A/N: I do not own Marvel.
Mantis is correct. Ego does often lie away thinking of his progeny.
He is only rarely thinking of Peter.
And "thinking" is perhaps not quite the right word.
The planet is exactly what Ego constructed it to be. All life on it consists of exactly who he wants to be there.
All life.
The first few disappointments are buried in the garden. They were not Celestials, but they were his children, and Ego believes they deserve a proper marking place. He designs markers that will rise when he wishes them to and that will hide when he does not. There is no point in provoking awkward questions from the next child he brings here.
He goes there sometimes. He looks on the images of his children and wishes they could have lived up to their potential.
There is a quiet murmuring of sound.
When I grow up, I'm going to join the Nova Corps.
You're not going to grow up, stupid.
He shakes his head quickly. He's been alone too long. He's hearing things in the sound of the wind.
(He hasn't summoned a wind that day.)
At night, there is light in the corridors. Strands of it zip around like children running. Small threads curl up and hide in nooks and crannies. Tiny balls of it are tossed around.
Sometimes, the light laughs. Sometimes, there is a low murmur of sound, like voices he can't quite interpret.
And one night, he hears:
When we grow stronger, we should kill Father.
I always wanted to be an assassin when I grew up.
He shoves the light away and stuffs it back into the core of the planet. The hallways are silent.
They have always been silent. Surely it is just a dream.
Nera is something of a genius. She has told him that she wants to be an inventor when she grows up. He has high hopes for her.
She finds the memorials in the garden, and her eyebrows scrunch up. She looks up at him for an explanation.
"It is a hard thing to be immortal," he tells her with a sad smile. "You end up outliving your children."
Sympathy, so easily provoked in her, fills her eyes.
Liar, the air hisses.
Run, the fountains demand.
Nera's eyes widen. She takes a step back.
The earth behind her reaches up silently and snaps her neck.
If she is a Celestial, she cannot die. If she is not, then she does not matter.
She does not matter.
He moves the bodies after that. He can't afford another incident like this. It was . . . disquieting.
He constructs a cave. He leaves the bodies there.
After a while, he no longer sends his avatar to do it. He just allows the planet to carry the shells of his children down.
He doesn't like it in the cave. Something about it makes the air hiss like malicious whispers.
He had hoped moving the bodies would help.
It doesn't.
There are no more whispers in the night. No more games.
Instead, there are screams.
Sudden. Sharp. Shrieking. Lingering.
Every time he begins to drift off, one pierces his rest.
He doesn't know why they insist on being so noisy. None of them had time to scream. None of them suffered. They are all being ridiculous.
No. There is nothing on his planet except that which he permits to be here. There is no "they," only his sleep deprived mind.
He takes Mantis. He remembers from his time there some centuries ago that those of her species can help the weary sleep.
Mantis helps considerably. He has to be careful, though; she reacts poorly to Thane's death when the boy proves as useless as his siblings.
Her sobbing is not much easier to take than the screams.
Leylin beams up at Mantis. "When I grow up, I want to be just like you," she says.
Mantis looks around nervously and crouches next to her. "If you want to grow up, you need to be useful," she says in an anxious whisper.
On Leylin's planet, only those deemed "best" are allowed to live. She had hoped that this would be an escape from that, but she knows all about if.
She smiles at her father and tells him countless jokes to make him laugh. She rubs his forehead for him when he gets headaches. She sings to him when he winces at sounds that must be too high pitched for her to hear.
She is not useful enough.
Ego cannot sleep without Mantis's help. He doesn't know how she manages to sleep herself.
Ego doesn't think of his children.
He's haunted by them.
(Peter comes. He is, they are interested to see, all grown-up. He has an amazing longcoat, and Daddy likes him best, but they get over their jealousy quickly, because Peter tells Daddy no.)
(Peter doesn't listen to their warnings, but that's alright. He does what needs doing anyway. He burns their bones and sets them free. Being a grown-up must be amazing.)
(If I could have grown up, I would have wanted to be him, one of them thinks, and then they are gone.)
(They do not realize that because of Ego's actions, Peter has not grown up. There is still a child inside him. That child is still stuck in the moment he was stolen. He is a ghost in a grown-up's body, and he hears his siblings scream. He always will.)
(But he also hears them laugh and cheer his name.)