Chapter Text
Another day, another several consecutive hours of sitting on the throne trying his best not to look openly bored. For a world that was a literal ticking time bomb life on the Sovereign home system could certainly be painfully uneventful.
For him anyway. All the other golden embodiments of perfection had their roles to play. Being designed with a purpose in mind. A role to play. And it really was unfortunate that the role his mother has chosen for him had to do with destroying the Guardians of the Galaxy. Something Adam has proven, beyond a shadow of doubt, he was not up to. Even before it became the thing he didn’t wish to ever attempt again. For a multitude of reasons – not the least of which being just how unenjoyable he found the experience of being stabbed.
Not that it wasn’t an appropriate reaction under the circumstances…
And what was it about his current role that made him dwell on things like that? Days when, well, something actually happened. As opposed to what the last few weeks of his life added up to. Namely a whole lot of doing his best to look imposing while sitting in an oversized, ornate chair. Pretending to oversee a planetary empire that was as close to a smoothly running machine as any society could hope to be, what with its precisely engineered citizens and its next to no interactions with anyone outside of their little golden bubble.
A figurehead, that’s what he was. Same as every High Priestess to ever hold the same seat of power. His was a voice that spoke for all of his people, yes, but… His was an empire that felt no need to add to the conversation.
It only helped a little to know this was a situation never planned for. It was without precedent for a High Priestess to die a violent death, leaving as her heir someone with none of her own traits. Only abilities unnatural in one of their kind.
Powers meant for a force of nature, a galactic superpower with no equal. Not someone whose days were defined by inactivity. Hours spent doing nothing more meaningful than being the Warlock. A ruler in name alone. A living reminder of what incredible things could be achieved by Sovereign science… The most bored person on the face of this jewel of a planet.
And if there was anything there could be done about that unfortunate status quo Adam was yet to think of it. Which, considering the amount of time already spent on solving the problem, could mean this was a problem without a solution…
The irony was that, through no fault of his own, his empire was thriving. No longer in the menacing shadow of the High Evolutionary, there was no need to worry about the future of his people. Between the elimination of the longstanding threat that was their maker and the fact the many, many explosives buried under the surface of every single planet in their system were in the process of being removed, the Sovereign had no worries in the world.
Not that it stopped them from grumbling about the people he hired to safely dispose of all the explosives in question. And there was a lot of that. In fact he was almost certain the speech being delivered at the foot of his throne right this minute was on that exact subject. If only he could bring himself to actually pay attention to what one of his generals had been droning on about he’d know for sure. But... if Adam were to do that his carefully neutral expression would definitely become the picture of utter boredom and that would not be good for morale, would it?
Besides – he could have his time wasted by monologues about how heretical it was to have a mere animal in charge of diffusing the biggest threat to the continued existence of their empire any day of the week. But it wasn’t every day that he could run his eyes over the crowd of blandly pretty faces gathered in his throne room only to find his attention drawn to one that… Didn’t quite fit.
It wasn’t that there was anything not meeting the Sovereign standard when it came to the woman’s features. She was nothing short of stunning. Very much the picture of their particular brand of aesthetic perfection. And unaccountably familiar in a way that was bothering him more and more with each passing second. Filling him with unshakeable certainty that he has seen that face before. Has seen that look of barely disguised annoyance before.
Who was she?
A question he still didn’t have an answer to when the general at long last ran out of things to complain about. But he had the next best thing then. Namely a perfect opportunity to claim he has been given a lot to think about. Spoken in a tone that would let his subjects know he would prefer to do his thinking in a room that wasn’t filled to bursting with sycophants. And for once it only took them a few minutes to get the hint and start dispersing.
Slowly.
Patience-tryingly slowly.
But then that was the Sovereign way. Whatever needed to be done was always secondary to assuring one looked as aesthetically pleasing as possible while doing it.
It comes as no surprise that the woman who caught and held his attention makes no move to leave. Stays where she is, leaning against a wall with the attitude of someone who fully expects him to come to her. Missing the level of reverence the average Sovereign had for their Warlock by several light years at the very least. Just when he thought she couldn’t possibly get any more compelling. Because that was the only fitting word. He wasn’t merely intrigued by the stranger – he was compelled by her. The attitude she exuded. Making no secret of the fact she was not impressed.
“Warlock,” says the woman and the familiar, deep tenor of the voice solves the mystery of her identity in a heartbeat.
Only to leave him with a far stranger one in its place.
“That’s… not the colour you were the last time I saw you,” he finds himself saying in reply.
“It’s not a colour I enjoy being. But it’s better if no one knows I was ever here,” replies the daughter of Thanos he had last seen on the streets of Knowhere. Calmly informing the citizens of that peculiar little spaceport just how many of the terran animals now roaming the streets were the kind that mauled people…
There was a no doubt perfectly reasonable explanation behind her transformation into what at first glance appeared to be nothing more than another pretty face in a sea of pretty golden faces. An illusion produced by some device Rocket put together, from various scraps of broken machinery knowing him. The how of this strange turn to his previously exceedingly boring day wasn’t the important part. It was the why of it that he couldn’t begin to guess at.
And so… “Why?”
“Long story.”
Adam nods, having figured as much. Hesitating only a moment before turning to head for the exit from the opulent golden space leading to a room that, unlike this one, had no inconvenient witnesses in it.
Someplace Nebula would be able to deactivate the artificial glamour hiding her natural shades of harsh blue and silver under the bland monotony of gold. A thing she appeared eager to do, going by the disgusted glare she just gave her reflection in the polished golden walls of the throne room…
In retrospect it was hard to tell what exactly it was he was hoping for while contemplating the mind-numbing monotony of most of his days. Still – with this dangerous stranger not only here but having made it to the very heart of his empire without anyone ever suspecting her presence, it was safe to assume boredom was no longer a thing he needed to worry about.