Gamora sat back down, her gaze fixed on Arthur, serious, intense, and laced with danger. The air around her bristled with a volatile tension, like a plasma charge ready to detonate at the slightest misstep.
Arthur, however, remained calm. Seeing Gamora wound so tight almost made him chuckle.
"Come on, don't be like this," He said lightly. "There's no reason to be so on edge. Like I said earlier, we're not enemies. Our goals have always pointed in the same direction. That makes us... well, natural allies."
Gamora's eyes narrowed. "Mysterious allies aren't exactly comforting, you know."
She leaned in, eyes piercing. "Tell me, do you really know why?"
Arthur tilted his head. "Hmm… the Soul Stone?"
He smiled faintly. "You do know where it is, right?"
Gamora's pupils shrank sharply, and just as she began to rise, a strange force shimmered above her, an invisible pressure locking her in place. She couldn't move.
"Easy," Arthur said with a sigh. "No need for theatrics. I'm not here to fight. Look, I know you've figured out the Soul Stone's location, but I don't know exactly where it is. You won't tell Star-Lord, obviously. And that's why I need him to keep an eye on you. If Thanos ever captures you and starts digging for answers, Peter would crack. No question."
Gamora's jaw clenched, veins pulsing at her temple, but the unseen force still held her down.
Arthur chuckled, not unkindly. "Really, stop struggling. You're not helping yourself here."
"I will never give in!" She snapped, staring at Arthur like he was a final boss at the end of a galactic campaign.
Arthur rolled his eyes. "Who said anything about giving in? I'm just trying to have a civilized conversation here."
Gamora gritted her teeth, then forced herself to breathe. "Calm down", she told herself.
In truth, Arthur's words had shaken her.
This was her most closely guarded secret, one she hadn't even dared say aloud. And now, here it was, laid bare like a classified file broadcast across the intergalactic network.
In that moment, she wasn't sure if her reaction was fear or rage born of humiliation.
Maybe both.
A part of her truly wanted to kill him right then and there.
But as she steadied herself, logic began to settle in. She couldn't beat him, not right now. His abilities were… different. And more importantly, Nebula was still in his hands. And Peter... Peter trusted him.
So much so that Arthur had crossed galaxies just because Peter asked him to. That kind of bond meant something.
Even if Arthur's motivations weren't entirely transparent.
Still, compared to Thanos, Arthur was… manageable.
But unless she got some real answers, she'd never feel safe. She turned to him again.
"How do you know about this?"
Without an answer, it felt like someone was always watching her. Every step, every breath, monitored. Not even Thanos had ever made her feel this exposed.
Arthur tapped his chin, considering. Then said casually, "Old Odin once called me the 'child of destiny.' Totally offhand, really. Didn't even consider how awkward that'd be for my parents."
"..."
Gamora blinked.
Well, that certainly explained how he and Peter Quill could be friends.
Do all Terrans tell jokes in the middle of life-or-death conversations?
Still, she noticed that as her tension eased, the invisible pressure faded with it.
She rotated her wrist slowly. The stiffness was gone.
Arthur suddenly tilted his head. "Oh, by the way, you do know who Odin is, right?"
Gamora scoffed. "Obviously. King of Asgard. His shadow loomed over half the cosmos at one point."
Arthur nodded approvingly. "Right. That old man told me you're going to be part of this, whether you like it or not. Doesn't matter if you're ready. It's just a matter of whether you move forward on your own or get dragged into it. Voluntarily, it'll hurt less. Not saying it won't hurt, just, you know… slightly more bearable." He coughed. "Okay, that's not exactly how he said it, but you get the idea."
Gamora stared at him with an expression caught between wariness and confusion.
His words made sense. But somehow, they still sounded… off.
"In short," Arthur began with a wry smile, "I'm basically the universe's bad-luck beacon. Wherever I go, chaos tends to follow. I could trip over a pebble and somehow knock out a top-tier villain or accidentally concuss a superhero."
He let out a sigh.
"So whether it's some cosmic script or just my ridiculous string of bad luck, all the things people desperately want to keep hidden… eventually land in my lap."
His eyes met Gamora's, calm but piercing.
"So yeah, your secret? I didn't go looking for it. I stumbled into it. And not just this one. I've got a whole vault of things I was never supposed to know. That's why I keep getting dragged into roles I was never built for."
"Roles you're not built for?" she echoed, skeptical.
"Things like... leading battles, negotiating with power players, making pacts across empires, and drawing up war strategies that span galaxies. Two years ago, if someone told me I'd be doing any of that, I'd have laughed them off. I'm not that guy. Or at least... I wasn't."
Arthur leaned back, his posture relaxed, though his voice carried the weight of hard-earned perspective.
"But now? I don't have a choice. I keep getting pulled in, so I keep moving forward."
He exhaled again.
"Thanos wants to wipe out half the universe, then settle down and watch the sunset like it's some kind of retirement plan. Me? I just want him gone, so this universe can finally breathe. After that? None of it matters to me anymore. I'll disappear with my girlfriend, maybe raise a few kids, live somewhere quiet and out of the way. Doesn't that sound good?"
He paused, almost laughing at the thought.
"You probably wouldn't guess it, but I'm actually loaded. I've got enough assets, thanks to some Stark-level tech deals and a few off-world investments, to live in comfort for a few centuries. So why would I waste time bouncing across star systems, getting shot at by warlords and alien tyrants, when I could just be sipping cocktails on a beach in Xandar?"
Arthur looked like he was about to sigh again.
Gamora stared at him, caught somewhere between disbelief and confusion.
Was this really the same Arthur who had traded barbs with Nova Prime like a seasoned diplomat? The same guy who played Ronan like a game of three-dimensional chess?
Right now, he looked less like a cosmic tactician and more like a reluctant genius stuck in someone else's war, an exhausted, jaded strategist with zero enthusiasm for his own legend.
(End of This Chapter)
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