[Stargate: Fiction] "The Adventures of Rodney Hood" [John/Rodney, G]
Title: The Adventures of Rodney Hood
Rating: G
Word Count: 7,468
Fandom: Stargate Atlantis
Pairing(s): John Sheppard/Rodney McKay
Prompt: this prompt from the 2018 Romancing McShep
Summary: Rodney Hood is an outlaw who robs from the rich to give to the poor and Lord John is the Prince Regent’s ward, held prisoner until the return of the lost Queen Elizabeth.
The Adventures of Rodney Hood
Two small boys, each holding the hand of an even smaller girl, crept through the thick bushes at the edge of the palace garden.
“How do you even know she’s here?” asked one boy. His similar coloring - honey-blonde curls and blue eyes - showed him to be the girl’s brother.
Their companion had dark hair and he flashed a broad grin as he said, “Because she’s here every day at this time.”
“John! Have you been sneaking into the palace grounds every day? Without me?”
“Your nanny actually cares where you are, Meredith,” the other boy replied. “It’s so much harder for you and Jeannie to sneak out.”
“I’m sure your father will return soon, John,” said little Jeannie, and he squeezed her hand.
“Thanks. Now, c’mon.”
The three children inched closer, until they could see the open interior of the garden. At one end stood a round wooden target, painted with a bullseye and already dotted with arrows. At the other end, another arrow notched on her elegant bow, stood Queen Elizabeth.
She drew in a deep breath and loosed - and the arrow thudded deep into the center of the bullseye. The queen shot twice more, both arrows landing to the left of the first, so that they formed a line straight across the target.
As the last arrow quivered to a stop, Jeannie gave an involuntary squeal of delight, then clapped both hands over her mouth. “Oops,” she whispered.
The queen raised her bow in their direction. “Who’s there?”
John squared his shoulders and stepped out into the open, careful to keep Meredith and Jeannie behind him. “Just us, Your Majesty.”
She lowered the weapon, arching an eyebrow. “And why have you intruded on my garden?”
“We’re sorry, ma’am,” said John.
“We wanted to see you shoot!” Jeannie added. “You’re really good.”
“Thank you, dear.”
“But if you increase pressure on your string, you’ll be between point-seven-to and point-eight-one percent more accurate,” blurted Meredith.
Queen Elizabeth smiled. “And who might you be, young sir, to know so much and yet so little about archery?”
“Meredith of Kay,” he replied. “This is my sister, Jeannie, and our friend, John of Sheppard’s Keep.”
“John,” she repeated. “Our cousin Patrick has a son by that name, but he could not be as grown as you.”
The dark-haired boy smiled. “No, ma’am, that’s me.”
“Then you are our cousin, as well, and you should all join us for an archery lesson.”
“Oh, could we?” said Jeannie.
It was the most pleasant afternoon Meredith could remember, then or a long time afterwards. They each took turns trying the queen’s bow - Jeannie and even John could barely draw back the string, but Meredith managed to actually loose an arrow, though he fell short of the target by several feet.
“You have an archer’s shoulder,” Queen Elizabeth told him. She moved to a large wooden chest, sitting to one side of the path, and took out a much smaller bow. “This will be more your size, Meredith. If you practice, you could be the best archer in Lantea.”
He took it, with reverent hands. “I’ll practice every day.”
*
The road through the Pegasus Forest was narrow, the trees too close and the tracks too rutted for a horse cart to travel at any great speed, let alone a carriage as large and ornate as the one belonging to the Duke of Kavanagh. Which meant that the driver was able to stop suddenly when they rounded a bend and he saw the stooped figure of an old woman in the middle of the road.
“Why are we stopping?” the duke demanded, sticking his head out of the gold-framed window. “I am late for a very important meeting!”
“My apologies, then, sir,” said a voice - a man stood on the sturdy lower branch of a nearby tree, an arrow already notched on his bow. “You will now be very late.”
“Guard!” yelled the duke.
The man slid down from his seat beside the driver, dagger in hand, but almost instantly found himself flat on his back, the end of a staff against his throat - the ‘old woman’ had thrown off her cloak to reveal a young woman, dressed in the same sort of green-and-brown clothing as the archer.
Two more people joined them, a woman who twirled simple wooden sticks with a threatening smile, and a mountain of a man who carried a sword at his hip and a mandolin at his back.
“You… you’re the outlaw!” spluttered the Duke of Kavanagh. “Rodney Hood!”
“Yes, I am,” the archer replied.
“And why don’t you ever mention the rest of us?” the young woman asked.
Rodney Hood scowled at her. “No one is going to start calling you ‘Little Jean’. You’re actually little, it’s not ironic.”
“I like it,” said the mountain man.
Jeannie grinned, but the other woman said, “It does not matter now. We have other business.”
“Agreed,” said Rodney, and he loosed two arrows, which pinned the shoulders of the driver’s tunic to the carriage roof behind him.
The guard made to get up, but Jeannie jabbed him, hard, with her staff, then bent carefully to retrieve his fallen sword.
“Ronon,” she said, brightly, “See if you can’t find me some really big jewels in there, won’t you?”
Ronon-a-Dale grinned. “Sure.”
“And take any food supplies he might have,” added Rodney. The second woman arched an eyebrow, and he added, “What? We always do anyway, Teyla, and it’s been hours since I’ve eaten.”
“I am sure that a man such as this,” said Teyla Scarlet, darkly, “will have ample provisions, while his people starve.”
“I have only what I need,” the duke protested. “And you can’t just take it. That’s robbery!”
“And that’s why we’re outlaws,” said Rodney. “Now, in the name of Queen Elizabeth of Lantea, turn over all your valuables.”
Kavanagh scowled. “Michael is king of Lantea.”
“Wrong answer,” said Ronon, and drew his sword.
The Duke of Kavanagh fainted.
“I was only going to pry the gilding from his carriage,” said Ronon.
Jeannie patted his shoulder, as Teyla began to tie up the guard. “I know, big guy.”
*
John heard footsteps in the corridor and hastily closed the door of the wardrobe.
By the time the person came through the door of John’s chambers, he was sprawled in the chair at his writing desk, flipping through a book of poetry. But his man-at-arms took one look at him and turned immediately to smirk at the wardrobe.
“You’ve been staring at the wanted poster again,” said Evan.
“No,” said John. At the other man’s skeptical look, he glanced back at the wardrobe - and the tunic sleeve sticking out of it - and relented. “And what else do I have to do?”
Evan’s expression softened. “I know how much you want to be out there with him, fighting for the people of Lantea. Maybe, if we planned for-”
“No,” John interrupted. “There will be no more escape attempts.”
The first few times he had tried to leave the castle without permission, Prince Michael had shut John in his rooms for days, with only bread and water - not much of a deterrent for someone who had spent their early adulthood in the queen’s army. And though John was not directly in line for the throne, he was close enough that the prince could not risk a harsher punishment for him.
But he could punish those who had helped him. Aiden and his squad of palace guards had worked double-shifts at half-pay after John’s latest attempt, and Evan had been sick for weeks with the fever he’d caught during his three-day confinement in the deepest cell in the dungeon.
“There will be more ‘accidents’,” said Evan, darkly. “His Highness may not be able to harm you publicly, but I notice that chandeliers never fall and ornamental weapons never come loose when anybody else is walking by.”
“And what am I supposed to do about that?” John demanded. “I can’t leave, and I can’t stay…”
“You could send a message to your outlaw. A letter in the bag of a fat, rich noble is sure to be found. Or even in his pocket.”
As Evan hoped, that drew the shadow of a smile from John. “I never thought the sight of Kavanagh in his underwear would be so amusing.”
“Perhaps because they were so old-fashioned and badly-mended,” the other man suggested.
“And his carriage nothing but twigs under all that decoration,” said John, then his expression fell again. “What would I even write? That I’m trapped here, like a maiden in a tower?”
“I don’t know, my lord,” said Evan. He had opened the wardrobe to tuck the errant sleeve back in, and he gave the wanted poster an assessing look. “Perhaps you’d want to be a damsel in distress if you were rescued by someone with those shoulders.”
“Evan,” said John, laughing, as his man-at-arms smiled and bowed himself from the room.
*
“The Sheriff of Atlantis, Your Highness.”
Prince Michael, in his throne, glared. “Am I not king, herald?”
“My apologies, sire,” said Chuck, the herald. “The Sheriff of Atlantis, Your Majesty.”
“Better,” said Michael, and waved him away.
Acastus, Duke of Kolya and Sheriff of Atlantis, sidled closer to the throne. “I wonder why you do not have him killed, Your Majesty.”
“His insolence amuses me. For now. But your inability to catch one outlaw does not.”
Kolya scowled. “The Pegasus Forest is vast, sire, and wild. But he cannot outrun my men forever. And, if you will permit me to suggest it, I have a plan that would not only let us capture that detestable Rodney Hood, but have him willingly walk into our trap.”
“Oh?” said Michael. “Tell me more…”
*
“It’s a trap,” said Ronon.
“Well, of course it’s a trap,” said Rodney, snatching the advertisement from him. “The castle hasn’t hosted a fete since Elizabeth left for the crusade, and when they did, the emphasis was always on the dancing and jousting, never on an archery competition.”
“A competition which you and your ego could never resist,” said Jeannie.
Rodney frowned. “My ego has nothing to do with this. But this will be a way to strike at Prince Michael.”
“How?” asked Teyla. “We could not possibly attack him surrounded by all those guards and knights.”
“We don’t have to attack him at all,” said Rodney. “He’s keeping his court together with bribery and fear - accept Michael as king and be rewarded, or cross him and face the consequences - so a defeat of Michael’s best archer by an outlaw…”
“Michael’s best archer is Kolya,” said Ronon. “You want to beat him.”
“Of course I want to beat him!” snapped Rodney. “He’s the one who enforces all of Michael’s outrageous taxes. The people are starving - what we poach in the forest just isn’t enough. They need flour, they need milk and eggs, they need… If it weren’t for Friar Carson’s skill with herbs and poultices, we’d have lost more people. And don’t tell him I said that.”
“Too late, lad,” said the monk, joining them. “And you cannae be serious, waltzing into the castle, with a price on your head!”
“Obviously,” said Rodney, “I’ll be in disguise.”
“Won’t that undermine your whole outlaw-beats-the-sheriff plan?” asked Jeannie.
“There will have to be a dramatic reveal,” Rodney told her. “And a very quick getaway.”
Teyla frowned. “That does not seem like a very wise plan.”
“He just wants to see that pretty lord guy,” Ronon snorted.
“I do not!” Rodney protested. All three simply looked at him, and he relented, “John probably wouldn’t even recognize me.”
Jeannie snorted. “You two were inseparable when we were little,” she said. “How could you not have seen the way he looked at you? Like you were the best thing ever, in the whole world.”
“He didn’t…” Rodney began, then sighed. “He’s the most eligible bachelor in Atlantis, he’s probably flirting with every princess and noblewoman in the kingdom.”
“Any accounts I have heard from the palace suggest he rarely has contact with anyone,” said Teyla. “That perhaps Michael is keeping him prisoner.”
“And you think I should, what, go rescue him?” Rodney demanded. “Save him from being safe and warm in a fortified castle so he can live in the woods with us, wanted by the crown?”
“I’d downplay the illegal activity and outdoor sleeping,” suggested Jeannie, “and focus on declaring your undying love.”
“And say what? Remember me? We were kids together, will you marry me?”
“Sounds fine to me,” said Ronon.
“Well, we don’t have time for that kind of nonsense, anyway,” said Rodney, not sounding very convincing, but in a tone that made it clear the conversation was over. “We have work to do.”
*
John had loved the fete as a child. He had usually been able to convince Meredith and Jeannie to sneak off with him, to stuff themselves with sweets and watch the knights joust.
Now, he was forced to be practically on display, wearing his finest and most uncomfortable clothes and half-hoping that a certain outlaw archer had the sense not to sneak in this time.
He watched the sword bouts without really seeing them, easing away from various young unmarried court ladies who vied for his attention - until one said, “His form is good, but if he does not keep his guard up, he will leave his left side vulnerable.”
“What?” said John, just as one of the two armored fighters staggered from a blow to his left side.
The woman was not tall, but carried herself as though she was, and though she was dressed as well as any other lady, there was something off about it.
“You are Lord John,” she said, “I cannot tell you my name, but please know that I am a friend.”
“If you would rather discuss swordsmanship than marriage, you are certainly a friend,” he replied. “Will you walk with me?”
She smiled, pearl-white teeth in a sun-bronzed face, and took his offered arm. “Thank you.”
They walked in easy silence for a moment, and John took the chance to observe his new companion.
She wasn’t a lady - despite her elaborate and clearly expensive gown, he could feel the catch of calluses on the silk of his under-tunic sleeve. She walked with a sure, confident stride, not a lady’s mincing steps, and her eyes darted across the crowd, marking weapons and potential dangers. There was the barest outline of a knife hilt at her pocket, which could easily have been mistaken for a folded fan, like may ladies carried, but John had hoarded every tale of the Outlaws of Pegasus Forest and he strongly suspected this woman was one of their number.
“The swordsmanship here is generally good,” he said, as another bout began. “But what I have really been looking forward to is the archery.”
“Oh?” she said, her voice polite but her eyes suddenly sharp. “I understand the Sheriff of Atlantis is favored to win.”
“That’s what they say,” John agreed. “But I hear that there might be a challenger. Someone who can show Kolya how it’s really done.”
“A common man, perhaps?” she suggested.
“Oh, he would have to be more than common,” said John. “He’d have to be amazing. Maybe on his way to being legendary.”
His companion’s expression softened. “I am pleased to hear you say that. For his sake.”
John fought hard to keep his own expression neutral - he was right, she was one of Meredith’s outlaws, and she was at least willing to believe he was on their side.
“Hear ye!” bellowed Chuck, the herald, suddenly. “The archery contest commences!”
“Will you join me to watch?” John asked, but before she could answer, Aidan approached, two more guards hovering behind him.
“Lord John,” said Aidan. “His Highness instructed me to escort you to the royal pavilion to view the archery.” He paused. “That was not a request, sir.”
“I understand,” John sighed, and turned back to his companion. “Duty calls, my lady. You’ll forgive me if I leave you here?”
She squeezed his arm and let go. “Thank you for the walk.”
John allowed Aidan’s squad to escort him to the royal pavilion where, despite it being little more than silk fabric on sticks, Prince Michael sat on an ornate throne.
“Ah, cousin,” he said, gesturing John to the plain wooden chair beside him. “I did not want you to miss this spectacle. I know how fond you are of… archery.”
The way he said it made John instantly wary, but he said, calmly, “How considerate, cousin.”
The herald stepped forward. “Here begins the archery contest!” he called. “Archers, present yourselves!”
A line formed along a string hung between two poles, marking the edge of the archery range, each holding their bow ready. Kolya stood closest to the royal pavilion, the chain of his office gleaming at his collar. Next to him was Bates, a sergeant of the guard - he wasn’t John’s favorite person, but his loyalty was to the crown, not its wearer, and John could find some respect for that.
There were two other guardsmen, good-naturedly being heckled by their fellows, clearly aware that they wouldn’t be able to beat the sheriff or the sergeant. At the end of the line were several more people in commoners’ clothing, farmers or woodspeople, carrying bows that were roughly-made or antique or both.
And there, at the center of the line - his disguise was very good, John had almost missed it himself. Meredith must have put something on his face, to make it look leathery like that, and he’d put padding into the waistline of his threadbare tunic, but there was no mistaking those those broad shoulders, or those blue eyes, even under his broad-brimmed hat. His bow looked like the crudest of all, bits of twigs still on its frame, but John knew that wouldn’t keep Meredith from firing true.
“Archers!” called Chuck. “To your marks.”
The competitors all stepped closer to the string, each one facing a hay bale target painted with four concentric rings.
“Ready… Aim… Fire!”
The twang and thud of arrows filled the air, then silence. Two boys in palace colors came along the line, running arrows back to the shooters, tipping over two of the targets - only those who landed an arrow inside the painted circles could continue to the next round.
This eliminated a young man, barely more than a teenager, most likely a farmer from his clothes, and one of the guards, who laughingly rejoined the spectators, passing his bow back to another guard, who was presumably its rightful owner.
“Remaining archers,” said Chuck, “Ready… Aim… Fire!”
Another round of arrows flew, and there were only four competitors left - Kolya, Bates, a cheerful woman in woodsperson-green, and the disguised Meredith. The next round eliminated the woman, who shook hands with Bates and Meredith on either side of her, but who did not approach Kolya. Then, Bates was eliminated, his arrow a hairs-breadth outside the innermost ring.
“Only two challengers remain!” called Chuck. “Our very own Sheriff of Atlantis, Duke Kolya-” There was a scattering of cheering and applause. “-and a newcomer, the mysterious fat farmer, who refuses to give his name.”
“Maybe I’m just big-boned,” rasped Meredith, over much louder cheering.
Chuck ignored him. “Each archer will shoot two arrows,” he announced. “The closest of the four shots will decide the winner. Sheriff Kolya, by favor of Prince Michael, will go first.”
“I am king,” hissed Michael.
“Of course, Your Highness,” bowed Chuck. “Lord Sheriff? You may shoot when ready.”
Kolya raised his boy and - twang! thump! - landed his arrow in the middle ring, just to the left of dead center. His second landed just to the right.
“Impressive, Duke Kolya,” said Prince Michael. “Farmer, if you wish to concede, we will not consider it a withdrawal.”
“Thank you, Your Highness. But I’d like to shoot.”
“Of course,” said Kolya, coldly. He took a step behind Meredith, gesturing for him to continue.
Meredith readied an arrow and pulled back the bowstring. But just as he was about to release, Kolya feigned a stumble and knocked his elbow, sending the shot high into the air.
The crowd roared in outrage, but Meredith was already moving. He shot again, still upwards, and John leaned forward, knuckles white on the railing of the royal pavilion as the second arrow struck the first, tipping it downwards.
It hit the target in the exact center, thudding deep into the hay bale and knocking both of Kolya’s arrows out, to tumble into the grass.
There was a long moment of silence.
“We have a winner!” called Chuck. “Master Farmer, present yourself and take your prize!”
John kept his grip on the railing as Meredith approached the royal pavilion. The archer seemed completely at ease, waving to the crowd and grinning at Prince Michael as he said, “A prize, Your Highness?”
“The correct address for a king is Your Majesty,” said Michael, in the tone of a teacher who deeply disliked his student. When Meredith just stood silently, he continued. “But, yes, a prize. Herald!”
Chuck stepped down from the royal pavilion platform, holding a small golden medal on a blue silk ribbon. “As the winner of the archery contest, please accept this token from His Majesty, King Michael.”
“Your Majesty?” said John, making all of them look at him.
“Yes, cousin?” Michael replied.
“May I present the prize?”
The prince smiled. “I’m pleased you’ve come to your senses and decided to embrace your royal duties,” he said, as though he hadn’t been keeping John practically a prisoner. “By all means, cousin.”
John managed a smile in return. “Thank you.”
He stepped off the platform and took the medal from the cushion Chuck held. “That was quite a performance… Master Farmer,” he said.
Meredith looked up at him, then - and those were the blue eyes John remembered - before he glanced over at Kolya. “It was nothing, my lord.”
“Still,” said John. He slipped the ribbon over Meredith’s neck, thumb sliding over the other man’s neck and drawing a shiver than only John could see. “Congratulations, Sir Archer.”
“Yes, congratulations.”
They sprang apart. Kolya had joined them, smiling coldly.
“Master Farmer,” the duke continued. “Lord John is correct, your shooting was excellent. Allow me to shake the hand of so worthy an opponent…”
He held out a hand, still with that cold smile. Even standing a few feet away, John could feel Meredith’s hesitation as he reached for it - hesitation that proved correct when Kolya used his free hand to draw his dagger.
Meredith dodged backward, far enough to avoid being cut, but he hadn’t accounted for the padding in his farmer’s costume. The blade sliced into his tunic, spilling straw and cotton stuffing, and as Meredith retreated a few steps, hat tumbling to the ground. The mud he’d used to conceal his features had hardened and cracked off, revealing his face.
“Rodney Hood!” shrieked Michael. “The outlaw Rodney Hood! Guards, seize him!”
There was a moment of silence, then the tournament grounds erupted into chaos.
“Meredith!” called John, over the noise, but he had lost sight of him in the crowd, which now seemed to include several members of Rodney Hood’s band.
Then, suddenly, the woman from earlier was beside him. Her dress was now smudged with dirt and she carried a well-used short sword in her hand. “I am Teyla Scarlet,” she said. “We must go now.”
“Wait - no - Evan-” he began, but Evan appeared on his other side.
“I say we escape while we can, boss,” his man-at-arms said.
“I - okay, but somebody give me a sword,” said John.
“You must be unarmed,” Teyla told him, sternly. “You are being kidnapped.”
“Right,” agreed John.
He saw Aidan’s squad surround the royal pavilion, out of the main fray, and John let the outlaws lead him out into the Pegasus Forest.
*
It was dark by the time they reached the inner part of the forest, farther than the castle guards would dare to follow.
Rodney discarded his makeshift bow and the rest of his farmer costume as he went. Scrubbing a hand over his face to rub off the rest of the mud, he realized that the rest of their band - and a few villagers from Atlantis they’d managed to pick up - had vanished into the trees, and he was alone with John.
John seemed to realize it at the same time. He caught Rodney’s sleeve and pulled them both to a stop. “Meredith, wait…”
“Actually, it’s Rodney now,” the archer said.
“Yes, I heard. Rodney Hood, the Outlaw of the Pegasus Forest, who robs from the rich and gives to the poor.”
“And you’re a lord. Living in Michael’s castle-”
“Imprisoned in his castle,” John interrupted. “Meredith - Rodney - the moment I heard what you were doing, I wanted to come out here and join you. But I couldn’t escape. Michael, he…”
Rodney’s expression shifted. “He hurt you.”
“Worse. He hurt the people around me. Evan, my man-at-arms. Aidan, one of the castle guards…”
“Your man is with Teyla, but the guards-”
“He’s safe,” said John. “You kidnapped me, remember?”
“I guess we did,” Rodney said. “I’m sorry.”
John caught his hand. “I’m not. When I was in the army, when things were dark, I always knew I had to make it out alive and come back to you. But then my cousin Elizabeth was gone and you were an outlaw… I’m glad I’m here now.”
“Yeah?” Rodney asked.
They had stopped beside a small waterfall that tumbled into a slender stream. Fireflies danced around them, adding shimmers of gold to the silver moonlight.
John stepped closer, cupping Rodney’s face in both hands, and kissed him.
“Woo, go, Mer!” cried a voice, suddenly, and they both startled.
“What…?” Rodney snapped.
John blinked, then grinned. “Jeannie?” he asked. “Little Jeannie?”
She grinned back. “At least somebody accepts my nickname. And it looks like we interrupted something.”
Rodney tried to take a step back, but John held his hand, keeping him in place. “Yes, you were,” said John.
“Well, that’ll have to wait,” said Jeannie. “John, come and meet the rest of our merry band…”
Rodney was pulled along as his sister introduced everyone else, and their camp began to form for the night. Friar Carson hadn’t come to the fete, and he had a kettle of stew ready for everyone. There was a general air of victory among them, as everyone ate and talked, until the moon was high overhead and people began to drift off to their tents, taking the new people with them.
Finally, Rodney and John were alone again.
“So,” John said, smiling. “Which tent is yours?”
Rodney smiled back, and showed him the way.
*
“Explain yourself,” snapped Michael, pounding a fist on the armrest of his throne.
Kolya bowed, “I will find them, Your Majesty.”
“You’ve said that before. And yet Rodney Hood waltzes into our castle, bests you at archery, and snatches our dear cousin John right from under your nose.”
“I have been hampered by the queen’s laws,” Kolya growled. “But you are king, Your Majesty. If you would give me leave to use more drastic measures…”
“Do whatever you need to,” snapped Michael. “I want these criminals exterminated from my kingdom.”
Kolya grinned wickedly. “I know just how to go about it, Your Majesty.”
*
There was a sudden rustling in the forest. Everyone readied their weapons, but it was only Jinto, one of the village children, who skidded to a stop, out of breath.
Teyla reached out to steady him. “What is wrong?”
“Arrested!” he gasped.
“Who?” asked Ronon.
“Everyone! Soldiers came to the village and took everyone!”
“Soldiers?” John repeated. “Took them where?”
“Castle soldiers,” Jinto said. “They went back to the castle with the villagers.”
Jeannie handed him a cup of water. “Where are the other children?”
“The soldiers took them, too,” he said. “Father sent me through the woods to Friar Carson, but the sheriff was there, and he arrested Friar Carson, too!”
“You did right to come here so fast,” Rodney told him. “Find something to eat, then go rest. We’ll take care of this.”
Jinto darted forward to hug him, briefly. “Thank you!”
“Go,” said the archer, and nudged him gently away. When the boy had darted off toward Parrish, who was stirring something at the cookpot, Rodney continued, “Everyone ready you’re weapons, we leave at once.”
“Whoa, wait,” said John. “This is a trap. You see that, right? Kolya is using this to draw you out into the open. This is an even bigger trap than the archery tournament.”
“Well, of course it is,” Rodney said. “But what choice to we have? Kolya didn’t take the people of Atlantis to have them over for tea and cake.”
“I know that! But we can’t just walk into a trap, either.” John’s expression softened, reaching for Rodney’s hand. “I don’t want to lose you right after I’ve finally gotten you.”
The archer flushed pink, but he continued frowning. “It’s not like I was going to just storm the castle. We need a plan.”
“And you have one, of course,” said Teyla.
Rodney smiled. “Of course.
*
The castle dungeons were not designed to hold so many people. It had been decades since the last war, and Queen Elizabeth had rarely needed to use them. But now they were full, the villagers from Atlantis huddled in groups, the children crying softly in the dark.
Deputy Sheriff Ladon supervised the guards delivering the evening meal, then went back up to the castle’s main floor, where he found Kolya waiting.
“My lord?” he greeted, warily.
The sheriff’s smile was cold. “Deputy Ladon, refresh my memory - how many hangman’s scaffolds are there in the courtyard?”
“Just one, my lord,” he replied.
“As I thought. How many carpenters are available?”
“The village carpenter is in the dungeon, my lord,” said Ladon. “But several of the guards have experience building sheds and the like.”
“Send them to the courtyard,” Kolya ordered. “Tell them to begin at once.”
“Begin what, my lord?”
The sheriff’s cold smile reappeared. “New scaffolds, of course. It will take far too long if we have to hang every inhabitant of Atlantis one by one.”
Ladon’s blood ran cold. “My lord,” be began cautiously. “Surely, it was Rodney Hood you wished to hang.”
“True,” Kolya agreed, easily. “And what better way to draw him out than to threaten the lives of the pathetic dregs he protects? If I have to hang a few of them to get his attention…”
“I… I’ll go find the guards with carpentry skills,” Ladon said, and left as quickly as he could.
*
“This way,” whispered John, creeping out from around a large tree.
Normally, Rodney’s band avoided this part of the Royal Forest because it grew so close to the castle walls, but tonight that was an advantage. John knew of a servants’ entrance into the lower levels of the castle and led the way, dressed in a borrowed tunic and dark cloak.
“Remember,” said Rodney, just behind him, “Once we get them out, you head straight back to the forest.”
Jeannie scowled. “We know the plan, Mer.”
“Quiet, both of you,” said John. “Through here.”
The servant’s entrance was overgrown with weeds, but the corridor beyond was even more unused, dusty and shadowed. They made their was silently through the narrow stone passages, past the kitchens and down toward the dungeons.
Slivers of moonlight came in through the bars on the high windows, and as they approached, one of the shapes on the floor stirred.
“Rodney, lad?” whispered Friar Carson.
“Shh!,” Rodney hissed. “Wake the others, keep them quiet.”
“We’re here to get you out,” added John. He moved to the door and began to fiddle with the lock. “Just give me a minute…”
“Is this everyone?” asked Jeannie.
Friar Carson nodded. “Aye,” he said. “Except Jinto-”
“He is safe in our camp,” Teyla assured him.
“Hang on, I’ve almost got it,” muttered John, still working at the lock.
“It might be faster with this,” said a soft voice.
The merry men whirled, swords raised, to see Deputy Sheriff Ladon standing in the dungeon doorway, holding up a key.
He held up both hands, unthreatening. “I’m not your enemy,” he said. “You have no reason to trust me, but…”
“You’re right,” Rodney said. “We don’t trust you.”
“I don’t believe that what you do is right,” Ladon said. “I believe that Prince Michael is the rightful regent until Queen Elizabeth’s return, if she ever does return. But I also know that Kolya has gone too far, and I won’t be party to it anymore.”
John took half a step forward and lowered his sword. “What do you mean?”
“Kolya plans to hang the villagers at dawn. I can’t let that happen, even if it means working with you.”
“We’ll take it,” said Jeannie. When the others turned to look at her, she shrugged. “What else can we do?”
“Okay,” Rodney agreed. “It will be much easier to get this many civilians out of the castle with some inside help. But if you cross us, Ladon…”
“I shall see to him,” said Teyla, which shouldn’t have sounded so terrifying from a woman almost a foot shorter than the man she was threatening.
Ladon nodded. “Agreed.”
“Okay, then,” said Jeannie, and took the key to begin opening the dungeon cells.
As she and Teyla organized everyone, Rodney tugged John to one side. “We’ve got to do something about Michael.”
“Like what?” John hissed back. “We can’t just march into his room and kill him. You might be an outlaw, but you’re not a murderer.”
“No, I’m not,” Rodney allowed, then he brightened. “We can’t kill him now, but we can steal his crown.”
“That would be a serious message,” agreed John. “That he’s not worthy to be Queen Elizabeth’s heir.”
“Let’s go, then. Where’s the vault?”
John snorted. “He keeps it in his bedchamber.”
“Perfect,” muttered Rodney. He caught Jeannie’s eye and she nodded, catching Ladon’s arm and pulling him in the opposite direction. “Let’s go.”
It was much easier sneaking through the castle with just the two of them. John led the way, up back staircases and down side corridors until they reached the royal wing.
“Wait,” John said. “The guards…”
A shadow moved in the corridor beyond, then a familiar voice said, “I believe I shall start my patrol with the far end of the wing.”
“Aidan,” said John.
The young guard winked. “I’ll just leave this very empty corridor and be on my way.”
As he rounded the corner, Rodney blinked. “What just happened?”
“A lucky break,” said John. “Come on.”
Prince Michael had a suite of rooms, hung with luxurious tapestries and full of expensive furniture, lit by the slivers of moonlight from the narrow windows.
“Where’s the crown?” whispered Rodney.
“I didn’t spend a lot of time in here, you know,” John hissed back. “He has a stand for it… it’s empty."
The marble pedestal, topped with a velvet cushion, stood in pride of place beneath a large portrait of the prince - and it was decidedly empty.
“What now?”
Suddenly, a loud snore came from the other room.
John frowned. “You don’t think…?”
“That he sleeps with it?” Rodney said. “I wouldn’t be surprised.”
They crept into the room. Michael’s bed was even more ostentatious, hung with thick velvet and gilded on every available surface. The prince himself was sprawled under satin sheets, crown balanced precariously on his head, snoring loudly.
Rodney stayed in the doorway, hand on the hilt of his sword, as John slunk silently toward the bed. The balcony door facing the foot of the prince’s bed left shadows on the far side, enough to hide John as he made his way across the room.
Michael continued snoring, even as John leaned in, fingers light but steady, and slowly lifted the crown from his head. The jewels sparkled in the moonlight from the balcony and John held it for a moment in the air -
Just as heavy footsteps sounded outside.
“Your Majesty!” Kolya was already speaking as he barreled into the room. “The prisoners have escaped from-”
There was nowhere to hide, even if John and Rodney had been given the chance.
“You!” the sheriff roared and drew his sword.
Rodney drew his own weapon, catching Kolya’s blade as it came down. “John!” he called, in warning.
The shout finally woke Michael, who sat up in bed. “Thief!” he shrieked, and John hastily tucked the crown into his tunic, scrabbling back around the bed.
“I should have known,” Kolya snarled.
Rodney parried another blow. “I’m annoying like that.”
“You-” the sheriff repeated. He raised his sword again, but John parried, joining Rodney in the doorway.
The fight would have been solidly in their favor - Kolya was an excellent swordsman, but he was no match for two opponents, both younger and more skilled than he was - except that Michael continued to shout, and they soon heard loud footsteps in the corridor.
Kolya smiled coldly. “You won’t get away this time, Rodney Hood. How sad that you will have killed Lord John in your failed attempt to assassinate the king.”
“He’ll never be king,” Rodney snapped. “Long live Queen Elizabeth!”
“No!” Michael stood on his bed, face red with rage, then pulled a torch from the wall. “I am the king!”
“You’re a tyrant,” said John. “Long live Queen Elizabeth!”
He jumped backwards as the prince waved the torch, moving out of the way just in time. The bed curtains weren’t so lucky - the thick fabric caught fire easily, and Michael howled in anger. “Get them!”
Kolya ducked around the flaming curtains. “My pleasure, Your Majesty.”
John caught the sheriff’s blow on his sword, and Rodney fell back a step, throwing off his cloak to reveal his bow and quiver.
“You trust me, right?” Rodney asked John, nodding toward the balcony.
“Always,” John agreed.
They moved together, retreating toward the balcony, then Rodney nocked an arrow tied to a rope. It was better than he’d hoped - below were the newly-built hanging scaffolds, easy for an arrow to lodge in. His aim was true and the rope unraveled behind it. Rodney took the loose end from his quiver and secured it to the empty torch bracket inside the window.
John grinned. “Go, Rodney. I’m right behind you.”
Rodney hooked his bow over the rope and moved to the balcony rail. “You’d better be.”
“You’ll never get away with this,” snarled Kolya, but the fire had spread to the bedframe, which had begun to creak alarmingly.
“Get them! Get them!” Michael yelled.
The sheriff raised his sword - and the beam of the bed fell, trapping him in the flaming bed curtains.
“Go,” John repeated. He took off his cloak, throwing one end over the rope, and pulled Rodney over the balcony rail.
Rodney yelped, hanging on to his bow with white-knuckle grips, and only just throwing out one leg to stop them before they hit the scaffold. He tumbled to its platform, shaking, and John collapsed next to him. The other man was shaking, too, and it took Rodney a moment to realize that John was laughing.
“Let’s do that again,” John said.
“Absolutely not,” said Rodney, getting to his feet.
A roar from above made them whirl around. Kolya, his tunic on fire, stood on the balcony rail, ready to repel down the rope from Rodney’s arrow.
“Oh, crap,” John muttered. He drew his dagger and started to cut the rope.
“Don’t leave me!” wailed another voice. Just as Kolya stepped from the rail, Michael seized him around the waist, the two of them swinging wildly, as John severed the end of the rope. They landed in a heap, but Kolya struggled to his feet.
The sun was just rising above the ramparts of the castle, the golden light making Kolya’s scorched tunic look like it was still flaming as he raised his sword.
“There’s nowhere to run,” he snarled.
Michael, still on the ground, glared. “You could have been my heir, John.”
John tightened his grip on his dagger, knowing he would have no chance to draw his own sword. “No, I couldn’t.”
Kolya raised his blade, a wild look in his eyes - just as thunderous hoof beats sounded in the courtyard. He startled, lowering his sword. “What!?”
The portcullis opened, admitting a formation of riders. They came to a stop on the flagstone, and the lead rider slipped from the saddle.
“What is the meaning of this?” demanded Queen Elizabeth.
Kolya scrambled back. “Y-Your Majesty!”
“You have arrived just in time, dear cousin,” said Michael, hurrying to bow to her, trying and failing to look dignified in his singed nightshirt. “The lord sheriff caught these two ruffians breaking into my - your - castle.”
“Is that so?” she asked.
“You have been away a long time,” he said. “I have done my best to keep the peace, to keep my - your - kingdom safe. But this… this outlaw, this Rodney hood, has been against me at every-”
Elizabeth held up a hand to stop him. “Even on crusade, I have heard of Rodney Hood.”
John took another half-step in front of Rodney. “Whatever you heard, it isn’t true,” he said.
The queen arched an eyebrow. “No? Because I heard that, in my absence, Prince Michael had raised taxes, again and again. I heard that the nobles of my court went along with him, supported him, save for two - my own cousin, John, who was kept a prisoner, and the ‘outlaw’ Rodney Hood, who took to the forest and protected our people.”
“Oh,” said John. “No, that’s all true.”
“Then we’re all on the same page,” Elizabeth said, smiling. “Guards! Arrest Prince Michael and Sheriff Kolya.”
“What!?” shrieked Michael. “You can’t - The crown! They’ve stolen the crown!”
John produced it from inside his tunic. “Just keeping it safe, Your Majesty.”
The Queen smiled again, then took the crown and set it atop her head. “Thank you, cousin.”
“Uh, Your Majesty?” said Rodney. “I don’t mean to sound ungrateful, but what about the rest of my people?”
“Yes, your merry men. They should be here any minute.”
“What?” he and John chorused.
“How did you think I knew you needed help?” she asked. “Your sister might have cleared up a few details for me on the way here.”
“Mer!” Jeannie, riding behind a man in a Royal Army uniform, waved as they entered the courtyard. Teyla, Ronon and Evan each rode with other officers, and all four of them slid from the saddles as soon as they entered the courtyard.
“You’re not dead,” continued Jeannie, then stopped and bowed to the queen. “Your Majesty.”
Elizabeth nodded in acknowledgment. “Lady Jean.” She looked around - at the army officers standing with their horses, at the palace guards now holding Michael and Kolya, at John and Rodney standing together - and smiled again. “I believe you promised me the full story of what’s been happening in my absence.”
Jeannie grinned. “Absolutely, Your Majesty.”
*
The bells of the cathedral rang merrily, pealing through the clear spring air. The entire population of Atlantis had gathered on the grounds of the palace, dressed in their finest, and when the cathedral doors opened, they turned eagerly to look.
Chuck, the royal herald, came to stand beside the doors. “Presenting His Grace, John, Duke of Atlantis and His Grace, Meredith, Duke of Kay,” he said, formally, then grinned, “Three cheers for the happy couple!”
John and Rodney both looked splendid in their wedding suits, holding hands and beaming at the world in general as the crowd cheered. The rest of their party - Jeannie and Teyla in new gowns, Ronan and Evan in new suits - followed, smiling just as broadly.
They paused, waving to the crowd, and Queen Elizabeth joined them. “Enjoy your honeymoon, both of you. But not so much that you don’t come back. You’re my heir now, John, there’s things you need to learn.”
He tried to scowl at her, but couldn’t fight his smile. “Yes, Your Majesty.”
“Go,” she said. “Your carriage awaits.”
The carriage stood in the road from the castle, with Aidan’s guard unit, in freshly-pressed uniforms, to accompany them. Once they were seated, John and Rodney turned to look out the large back window, waving to the crowd, which waved back.
As they started moving, John leaned closer to his new husband. “Let’s hope we don’t meet any vigilantes or robbers on the road.”
“I think we could take them,” Rodney said.
John laughed, and kissed him.
THE END
Current Mood:
accomplished
Rating: G
Word Count: 7,468
Fandom: Stargate Atlantis
Pairing(s): John Sheppard/Rodney McKay
Prompt: this prompt from the 2018 Romancing McShep
Summary: Rodney Hood is an outlaw who robs from the rich to give to the poor and Lord John is the Prince Regent’s ward, held prisoner until the return of the lost Queen Elizabeth.
The Adventures of Rodney Hood
Two small boys, each holding the hand of an even smaller girl, crept through the thick bushes at the edge of the palace garden.
“How do you even know she’s here?” asked one boy. His similar coloring - honey-blonde curls and blue eyes - showed him to be the girl’s brother.
Their companion had dark hair and he flashed a broad grin as he said, “Because she’s here every day at this time.”
“John! Have you been sneaking into the palace grounds every day? Without me?”
“Your nanny actually cares where you are, Meredith,” the other boy replied. “It’s so much harder for you and Jeannie to sneak out.”
“I’m sure your father will return soon, John,” said little Jeannie, and he squeezed her hand.
“Thanks. Now, c’mon.”
The three children inched closer, until they could see the open interior of the garden. At one end stood a round wooden target, painted with a bullseye and already dotted with arrows. At the other end, another arrow notched on her elegant bow, stood Queen Elizabeth.
She drew in a deep breath and loosed - and the arrow thudded deep into the center of the bullseye. The queen shot twice more, both arrows landing to the left of the first, so that they formed a line straight across the target.
As the last arrow quivered to a stop, Jeannie gave an involuntary squeal of delight, then clapped both hands over her mouth. “Oops,” she whispered.
The queen raised her bow in their direction. “Who’s there?”
John squared his shoulders and stepped out into the open, careful to keep Meredith and Jeannie behind him. “Just us, Your Majesty.”
She lowered the weapon, arching an eyebrow. “And why have you intruded on my garden?”
“We’re sorry, ma’am,” said John.
“We wanted to see you shoot!” Jeannie added. “You’re really good.”
“Thank you, dear.”
“But if you increase pressure on your string, you’ll be between point-seven-to and point-eight-one percent more accurate,” blurted Meredith.
Queen Elizabeth smiled. “And who might you be, young sir, to know so much and yet so little about archery?”
“Meredith of Kay,” he replied. “This is my sister, Jeannie, and our friend, John of Sheppard’s Keep.”
“John,” she repeated. “Our cousin Patrick has a son by that name, but he could not be as grown as you.”
The dark-haired boy smiled. “No, ma’am, that’s me.”
“Then you are our cousin, as well, and you should all join us for an archery lesson.”
“Oh, could we?” said Jeannie.
It was the most pleasant afternoon Meredith could remember, then or a long time afterwards. They each took turns trying the queen’s bow - Jeannie and even John could barely draw back the string, but Meredith managed to actually loose an arrow, though he fell short of the target by several feet.
“You have an archer’s shoulder,” Queen Elizabeth told him. She moved to a large wooden chest, sitting to one side of the path, and took out a much smaller bow. “This will be more your size, Meredith. If you practice, you could be the best archer in Lantea.”
He took it, with reverent hands. “I’ll practice every day.”
*
The road through the Pegasus Forest was narrow, the trees too close and the tracks too rutted for a horse cart to travel at any great speed, let alone a carriage as large and ornate as the one belonging to the Duke of Kavanagh. Which meant that the driver was able to stop suddenly when they rounded a bend and he saw the stooped figure of an old woman in the middle of the road.
“Why are we stopping?” the duke demanded, sticking his head out of the gold-framed window. “I am late for a very important meeting!”
“My apologies, then, sir,” said a voice - a man stood on the sturdy lower branch of a nearby tree, an arrow already notched on his bow. “You will now be very late.”
“Guard!” yelled the duke.
The man slid down from his seat beside the driver, dagger in hand, but almost instantly found himself flat on his back, the end of a staff against his throat - the ‘old woman’ had thrown off her cloak to reveal a young woman, dressed in the same sort of green-and-brown clothing as the archer.
Two more people joined them, a woman who twirled simple wooden sticks with a threatening smile, and a mountain of a man who carried a sword at his hip and a mandolin at his back.
“You… you’re the outlaw!” spluttered the Duke of Kavanagh. “Rodney Hood!”
“Yes, I am,” the archer replied.
“And why don’t you ever mention the rest of us?” the young woman asked.
Rodney Hood scowled at her. “No one is going to start calling you ‘Little Jean’. You’re actually little, it’s not ironic.”
“I like it,” said the mountain man.
Jeannie grinned, but the other woman said, “It does not matter now. We have other business.”
“Agreed,” said Rodney, and he loosed two arrows, which pinned the shoulders of the driver’s tunic to the carriage roof behind him.
The guard made to get up, but Jeannie jabbed him, hard, with her staff, then bent carefully to retrieve his fallen sword.
“Ronon,” she said, brightly, “See if you can’t find me some really big jewels in there, won’t you?”
Ronon-a-Dale grinned. “Sure.”
“And take any food supplies he might have,” added Rodney. The second woman arched an eyebrow, and he added, “What? We always do anyway, Teyla, and it’s been hours since I’ve eaten.”
“I am sure that a man such as this,” said Teyla Scarlet, darkly, “will have ample provisions, while his people starve.”
“I have only what I need,” the duke protested. “And you can’t just take it. That’s robbery!”
“And that’s why we’re outlaws,” said Rodney. “Now, in the name of Queen Elizabeth of Lantea, turn over all your valuables.”
Kavanagh scowled. “Michael is king of Lantea.”
“Wrong answer,” said Ronon, and drew his sword.
The Duke of Kavanagh fainted.
“I was only going to pry the gilding from his carriage,” said Ronon.
Jeannie patted his shoulder, as Teyla began to tie up the guard. “I know, big guy.”
*
John heard footsteps in the corridor and hastily closed the door of the wardrobe.
By the time the person came through the door of John’s chambers, he was sprawled in the chair at his writing desk, flipping through a book of poetry. But his man-at-arms took one look at him and turned immediately to smirk at the wardrobe.
“You’ve been staring at the wanted poster again,” said Evan.
“No,” said John. At the other man’s skeptical look, he glanced back at the wardrobe - and the tunic sleeve sticking out of it - and relented. “And what else do I have to do?”
Evan’s expression softened. “I know how much you want to be out there with him, fighting for the people of Lantea. Maybe, if we planned for-”
“No,” John interrupted. “There will be no more escape attempts.”
The first few times he had tried to leave the castle without permission, Prince Michael had shut John in his rooms for days, with only bread and water - not much of a deterrent for someone who had spent their early adulthood in the queen’s army. And though John was not directly in line for the throne, he was close enough that the prince could not risk a harsher punishment for him.
But he could punish those who had helped him. Aiden and his squad of palace guards had worked double-shifts at half-pay after John’s latest attempt, and Evan had been sick for weeks with the fever he’d caught during his three-day confinement in the deepest cell in the dungeon.
“There will be more ‘accidents’,” said Evan, darkly. “His Highness may not be able to harm you publicly, but I notice that chandeliers never fall and ornamental weapons never come loose when anybody else is walking by.”
“And what am I supposed to do about that?” John demanded. “I can’t leave, and I can’t stay…”
“You could send a message to your outlaw. A letter in the bag of a fat, rich noble is sure to be found. Or even in his pocket.”
As Evan hoped, that drew the shadow of a smile from John. “I never thought the sight of Kavanagh in his underwear would be so amusing.”
“Perhaps because they were so old-fashioned and badly-mended,” the other man suggested.
“And his carriage nothing but twigs under all that decoration,” said John, then his expression fell again. “What would I even write? That I’m trapped here, like a maiden in a tower?”
“I don’t know, my lord,” said Evan. He had opened the wardrobe to tuck the errant sleeve back in, and he gave the wanted poster an assessing look. “Perhaps you’d want to be a damsel in distress if you were rescued by someone with those shoulders.”
“Evan,” said John, laughing, as his man-at-arms smiled and bowed himself from the room.
*
“The Sheriff of Atlantis, Your Highness.”
Prince Michael, in his throne, glared. “Am I not king, herald?”
“My apologies, sire,” said Chuck, the herald. “The Sheriff of Atlantis, Your Majesty.”
“Better,” said Michael, and waved him away.
Acastus, Duke of Kolya and Sheriff of Atlantis, sidled closer to the throne. “I wonder why you do not have him killed, Your Majesty.”
“His insolence amuses me. For now. But your inability to catch one outlaw does not.”
Kolya scowled. “The Pegasus Forest is vast, sire, and wild. But he cannot outrun my men forever. And, if you will permit me to suggest it, I have a plan that would not only let us capture that detestable Rodney Hood, but have him willingly walk into our trap.”
“Oh?” said Michael. “Tell me more…”
*
“It’s a trap,” said Ronon.
“Well, of course it’s a trap,” said Rodney, snatching the advertisement from him. “The castle hasn’t hosted a fete since Elizabeth left for the crusade, and when they did, the emphasis was always on the dancing and jousting, never on an archery competition.”
“A competition which you and your ego could never resist,” said Jeannie.
Rodney frowned. “My ego has nothing to do with this. But this will be a way to strike at Prince Michael.”
“How?” asked Teyla. “We could not possibly attack him surrounded by all those guards and knights.”
“We don’t have to attack him at all,” said Rodney. “He’s keeping his court together with bribery and fear - accept Michael as king and be rewarded, or cross him and face the consequences - so a defeat of Michael’s best archer by an outlaw…”
“Michael’s best archer is Kolya,” said Ronon. “You want to beat him.”
“Of course I want to beat him!” snapped Rodney. “He’s the one who enforces all of Michael’s outrageous taxes. The people are starving - what we poach in the forest just isn’t enough. They need flour, they need milk and eggs, they need… If it weren’t for Friar Carson’s skill with herbs and poultices, we’d have lost more people. And don’t tell him I said that.”
“Too late, lad,” said the monk, joining them. “And you cannae be serious, waltzing into the castle, with a price on your head!”
“Obviously,” said Rodney, “I’ll be in disguise.”
“Won’t that undermine your whole outlaw-beats-the-sheriff plan?” asked Jeannie.
“There will have to be a dramatic reveal,” Rodney told her. “And a very quick getaway.”
Teyla frowned. “That does not seem like a very wise plan.”
“He just wants to see that pretty lord guy,” Ronon snorted.
“I do not!” Rodney protested. All three simply looked at him, and he relented, “John probably wouldn’t even recognize me.”
Jeannie snorted. “You two were inseparable when we were little,” she said. “How could you not have seen the way he looked at you? Like you were the best thing ever, in the whole world.”
“He didn’t…” Rodney began, then sighed. “He’s the most eligible bachelor in Atlantis, he’s probably flirting with every princess and noblewoman in the kingdom.”
“Any accounts I have heard from the palace suggest he rarely has contact with anyone,” said Teyla. “That perhaps Michael is keeping him prisoner.”
“And you think I should, what, go rescue him?” Rodney demanded. “Save him from being safe and warm in a fortified castle so he can live in the woods with us, wanted by the crown?”
“I’d downplay the illegal activity and outdoor sleeping,” suggested Jeannie, “and focus on declaring your undying love.”
“And say what? Remember me? We were kids together, will you marry me?”
“Sounds fine to me,” said Ronon.
“Well, we don’t have time for that kind of nonsense, anyway,” said Rodney, not sounding very convincing, but in a tone that made it clear the conversation was over. “We have work to do.”
*
John had loved the fete as a child. He had usually been able to convince Meredith and Jeannie to sneak off with him, to stuff themselves with sweets and watch the knights joust.
Now, he was forced to be practically on display, wearing his finest and most uncomfortable clothes and half-hoping that a certain outlaw archer had the sense not to sneak in this time.
He watched the sword bouts without really seeing them, easing away from various young unmarried court ladies who vied for his attention - until one said, “His form is good, but if he does not keep his guard up, he will leave his left side vulnerable.”
“What?” said John, just as one of the two armored fighters staggered from a blow to his left side.
The woman was not tall, but carried herself as though she was, and though she was dressed as well as any other lady, there was something off about it.
“You are Lord John,” she said, “I cannot tell you my name, but please know that I am a friend.”
“If you would rather discuss swordsmanship than marriage, you are certainly a friend,” he replied. “Will you walk with me?”
She smiled, pearl-white teeth in a sun-bronzed face, and took his offered arm. “Thank you.”
They walked in easy silence for a moment, and John took the chance to observe his new companion.
She wasn’t a lady - despite her elaborate and clearly expensive gown, he could feel the catch of calluses on the silk of his under-tunic sleeve. She walked with a sure, confident stride, not a lady’s mincing steps, and her eyes darted across the crowd, marking weapons and potential dangers. There was the barest outline of a knife hilt at her pocket, which could easily have been mistaken for a folded fan, like may ladies carried, but John had hoarded every tale of the Outlaws of Pegasus Forest and he strongly suspected this woman was one of their number.
“The swordsmanship here is generally good,” he said, as another bout began. “But what I have really been looking forward to is the archery.”
“Oh?” she said, her voice polite but her eyes suddenly sharp. “I understand the Sheriff of Atlantis is favored to win.”
“That’s what they say,” John agreed. “But I hear that there might be a challenger. Someone who can show Kolya how it’s really done.”
“A common man, perhaps?” she suggested.
“Oh, he would have to be more than common,” said John. “He’d have to be amazing. Maybe on his way to being legendary.”
His companion’s expression softened. “I am pleased to hear you say that. For his sake.”
John fought hard to keep his own expression neutral - he was right, she was one of Meredith’s outlaws, and she was at least willing to believe he was on their side.
“Hear ye!” bellowed Chuck, the herald, suddenly. “The archery contest commences!”
“Will you join me to watch?” John asked, but before she could answer, Aidan approached, two more guards hovering behind him.
“Lord John,” said Aidan. “His Highness instructed me to escort you to the royal pavilion to view the archery.” He paused. “That was not a request, sir.”
“I understand,” John sighed, and turned back to his companion. “Duty calls, my lady. You’ll forgive me if I leave you here?”
She squeezed his arm and let go. “Thank you for the walk.”
John allowed Aidan’s squad to escort him to the royal pavilion where, despite it being little more than silk fabric on sticks, Prince Michael sat on an ornate throne.
“Ah, cousin,” he said, gesturing John to the plain wooden chair beside him. “I did not want you to miss this spectacle. I know how fond you are of… archery.”
The way he said it made John instantly wary, but he said, calmly, “How considerate, cousin.”
The herald stepped forward. “Here begins the archery contest!” he called. “Archers, present yourselves!”
A line formed along a string hung between two poles, marking the edge of the archery range, each holding their bow ready. Kolya stood closest to the royal pavilion, the chain of his office gleaming at his collar. Next to him was Bates, a sergeant of the guard - he wasn’t John’s favorite person, but his loyalty was to the crown, not its wearer, and John could find some respect for that.
There were two other guardsmen, good-naturedly being heckled by their fellows, clearly aware that they wouldn’t be able to beat the sheriff or the sergeant. At the end of the line were several more people in commoners’ clothing, farmers or woodspeople, carrying bows that were roughly-made or antique or both.
And there, at the center of the line - his disguise was very good, John had almost missed it himself. Meredith must have put something on his face, to make it look leathery like that, and he’d put padding into the waistline of his threadbare tunic, but there was no mistaking those those broad shoulders, or those blue eyes, even under his broad-brimmed hat. His bow looked like the crudest of all, bits of twigs still on its frame, but John knew that wouldn’t keep Meredith from firing true.
“Archers!” called Chuck. “To your marks.”
The competitors all stepped closer to the string, each one facing a hay bale target painted with four concentric rings.
“Ready… Aim… Fire!”
The twang and thud of arrows filled the air, then silence. Two boys in palace colors came along the line, running arrows back to the shooters, tipping over two of the targets - only those who landed an arrow inside the painted circles could continue to the next round.
This eliminated a young man, barely more than a teenager, most likely a farmer from his clothes, and one of the guards, who laughingly rejoined the spectators, passing his bow back to another guard, who was presumably its rightful owner.
“Remaining archers,” said Chuck, “Ready… Aim… Fire!”
Another round of arrows flew, and there were only four competitors left - Kolya, Bates, a cheerful woman in woodsperson-green, and the disguised Meredith. The next round eliminated the woman, who shook hands with Bates and Meredith on either side of her, but who did not approach Kolya. Then, Bates was eliminated, his arrow a hairs-breadth outside the innermost ring.
“Only two challengers remain!” called Chuck. “Our very own Sheriff of Atlantis, Duke Kolya-” There was a scattering of cheering and applause. “-and a newcomer, the mysterious fat farmer, who refuses to give his name.”
“Maybe I’m just big-boned,” rasped Meredith, over much louder cheering.
Chuck ignored him. “Each archer will shoot two arrows,” he announced. “The closest of the four shots will decide the winner. Sheriff Kolya, by favor of Prince Michael, will go first.”
“I am king,” hissed Michael.
“Of course, Your Highness,” bowed Chuck. “Lord Sheriff? You may shoot when ready.”
Kolya raised his boy and - twang! thump! - landed his arrow in the middle ring, just to the left of dead center. His second landed just to the right.
“Impressive, Duke Kolya,” said Prince Michael. “Farmer, if you wish to concede, we will not consider it a withdrawal.”
“Thank you, Your Highness. But I’d like to shoot.”
“Of course,” said Kolya, coldly. He took a step behind Meredith, gesturing for him to continue.
Meredith readied an arrow and pulled back the bowstring. But just as he was about to release, Kolya feigned a stumble and knocked his elbow, sending the shot high into the air.
The crowd roared in outrage, but Meredith was already moving. He shot again, still upwards, and John leaned forward, knuckles white on the railing of the royal pavilion as the second arrow struck the first, tipping it downwards.
It hit the target in the exact center, thudding deep into the hay bale and knocking both of Kolya’s arrows out, to tumble into the grass.
There was a long moment of silence.
“We have a winner!” called Chuck. “Master Farmer, present yourself and take your prize!”
John kept his grip on the railing as Meredith approached the royal pavilion. The archer seemed completely at ease, waving to the crowd and grinning at Prince Michael as he said, “A prize, Your Highness?”
“The correct address for a king is Your Majesty,” said Michael, in the tone of a teacher who deeply disliked his student. When Meredith just stood silently, he continued. “But, yes, a prize. Herald!”
Chuck stepped down from the royal pavilion platform, holding a small golden medal on a blue silk ribbon. “As the winner of the archery contest, please accept this token from His Majesty, King Michael.”
“Your Majesty?” said John, making all of them look at him.
“Yes, cousin?” Michael replied.
“May I present the prize?”
The prince smiled. “I’m pleased you’ve come to your senses and decided to embrace your royal duties,” he said, as though he hadn’t been keeping John practically a prisoner. “By all means, cousin.”
John managed a smile in return. “Thank you.”
He stepped off the platform and took the medal from the cushion Chuck held. “That was quite a performance… Master Farmer,” he said.
Meredith looked up at him, then - and those were the blue eyes John remembered - before he glanced over at Kolya. “It was nothing, my lord.”
“Still,” said John. He slipped the ribbon over Meredith’s neck, thumb sliding over the other man’s neck and drawing a shiver than only John could see. “Congratulations, Sir Archer.”
“Yes, congratulations.”
They sprang apart. Kolya had joined them, smiling coldly.
“Master Farmer,” the duke continued. “Lord John is correct, your shooting was excellent. Allow me to shake the hand of so worthy an opponent…”
He held out a hand, still with that cold smile. Even standing a few feet away, John could feel Meredith’s hesitation as he reached for it - hesitation that proved correct when Kolya used his free hand to draw his dagger.
Meredith dodged backward, far enough to avoid being cut, but he hadn’t accounted for the padding in his farmer’s costume. The blade sliced into his tunic, spilling straw and cotton stuffing, and as Meredith retreated a few steps, hat tumbling to the ground. The mud he’d used to conceal his features had hardened and cracked off, revealing his face.
“Rodney Hood!” shrieked Michael. “The outlaw Rodney Hood! Guards, seize him!”
There was a moment of silence, then the tournament grounds erupted into chaos.
“Meredith!” called John, over the noise, but he had lost sight of him in the crowd, which now seemed to include several members of Rodney Hood’s band.
Then, suddenly, the woman from earlier was beside him. Her dress was now smudged with dirt and she carried a well-used short sword in her hand. “I am Teyla Scarlet,” she said. “We must go now.”
“Wait - no - Evan-” he began, but Evan appeared on his other side.
“I say we escape while we can, boss,” his man-at-arms said.
“I - okay, but somebody give me a sword,” said John.
“You must be unarmed,” Teyla told him, sternly. “You are being kidnapped.”
“Right,” agreed John.
He saw Aidan’s squad surround the royal pavilion, out of the main fray, and John let the outlaws lead him out into the Pegasus Forest.
*
It was dark by the time they reached the inner part of the forest, farther than the castle guards would dare to follow.
Rodney discarded his makeshift bow and the rest of his farmer costume as he went. Scrubbing a hand over his face to rub off the rest of the mud, he realized that the rest of their band - and a few villagers from Atlantis they’d managed to pick up - had vanished into the trees, and he was alone with John.
John seemed to realize it at the same time. He caught Rodney’s sleeve and pulled them both to a stop. “Meredith, wait…”
“Actually, it’s Rodney now,” the archer said.
“Yes, I heard. Rodney Hood, the Outlaw of the Pegasus Forest, who robs from the rich and gives to the poor.”
“And you’re a lord. Living in Michael’s castle-”
“Imprisoned in his castle,” John interrupted. “Meredith - Rodney - the moment I heard what you were doing, I wanted to come out here and join you. But I couldn’t escape. Michael, he…”
Rodney’s expression shifted. “He hurt you.”
“Worse. He hurt the people around me. Evan, my man-at-arms. Aidan, one of the castle guards…”
“Your man is with Teyla, but the guards-”
“He’s safe,” said John. “You kidnapped me, remember?”
“I guess we did,” Rodney said. “I’m sorry.”
John caught his hand. “I’m not. When I was in the army, when things were dark, I always knew I had to make it out alive and come back to you. But then my cousin Elizabeth was gone and you were an outlaw… I’m glad I’m here now.”
“Yeah?” Rodney asked.
They had stopped beside a small waterfall that tumbled into a slender stream. Fireflies danced around them, adding shimmers of gold to the silver moonlight.
John stepped closer, cupping Rodney’s face in both hands, and kissed him.
“Woo, go, Mer!” cried a voice, suddenly, and they both startled.
“What…?” Rodney snapped.
John blinked, then grinned. “Jeannie?” he asked. “Little Jeannie?”
She grinned back. “At least somebody accepts my nickname. And it looks like we interrupted something.”
Rodney tried to take a step back, but John held his hand, keeping him in place. “Yes, you were,” said John.
“Well, that’ll have to wait,” said Jeannie. “John, come and meet the rest of our merry band…”
Rodney was pulled along as his sister introduced everyone else, and their camp began to form for the night. Friar Carson hadn’t come to the fete, and he had a kettle of stew ready for everyone. There was a general air of victory among them, as everyone ate and talked, until the moon was high overhead and people began to drift off to their tents, taking the new people with them.
Finally, Rodney and John were alone again.
“So,” John said, smiling. “Which tent is yours?”
Rodney smiled back, and showed him the way.
*
“Explain yourself,” snapped Michael, pounding a fist on the armrest of his throne.
Kolya bowed, “I will find them, Your Majesty.”
“You’ve said that before. And yet Rodney Hood waltzes into our castle, bests you at archery, and snatches our dear cousin John right from under your nose.”
“I have been hampered by the queen’s laws,” Kolya growled. “But you are king, Your Majesty. If you would give me leave to use more drastic measures…”
“Do whatever you need to,” snapped Michael. “I want these criminals exterminated from my kingdom.”
Kolya grinned wickedly. “I know just how to go about it, Your Majesty.”
*
There was a sudden rustling in the forest. Everyone readied their weapons, but it was only Jinto, one of the village children, who skidded to a stop, out of breath.
Teyla reached out to steady him. “What is wrong?”
“Arrested!” he gasped.
“Who?” asked Ronon.
“Everyone! Soldiers came to the village and took everyone!”
“Soldiers?” John repeated. “Took them where?”
“Castle soldiers,” Jinto said. “They went back to the castle with the villagers.”
Jeannie handed him a cup of water. “Where are the other children?”
“The soldiers took them, too,” he said. “Father sent me through the woods to Friar Carson, but the sheriff was there, and he arrested Friar Carson, too!”
“You did right to come here so fast,” Rodney told him. “Find something to eat, then go rest. We’ll take care of this.”
Jinto darted forward to hug him, briefly. “Thank you!”
“Go,” said the archer, and nudged him gently away. When the boy had darted off toward Parrish, who was stirring something at the cookpot, Rodney continued, “Everyone ready you’re weapons, we leave at once.”
“Whoa, wait,” said John. “This is a trap. You see that, right? Kolya is using this to draw you out into the open. This is an even bigger trap than the archery tournament.”
“Well, of course it is,” Rodney said. “But what choice to we have? Kolya didn’t take the people of Atlantis to have them over for tea and cake.”
“I know that! But we can’t just walk into a trap, either.” John’s expression softened, reaching for Rodney’s hand. “I don’t want to lose you right after I’ve finally gotten you.”
The archer flushed pink, but he continued frowning. “It’s not like I was going to just storm the castle. We need a plan.”
“And you have one, of course,” said Teyla.
Rodney smiled. “Of course.
*
The castle dungeons were not designed to hold so many people. It had been decades since the last war, and Queen Elizabeth had rarely needed to use them. But now they were full, the villagers from Atlantis huddled in groups, the children crying softly in the dark.
Deputy Sheriff Ladon supervised the guards delivering the evening meal, then went back up to the castle’s main floor, where he found Kolya waiting.
“My lord?” he greeted, warily.
The sheriff’s smile was cold. “Deputy Ladon, refresh my memory - how many hangman’s scaffolds are there in the courtyard?”
“Just one, my lord,” he replied.
“As I thought. How many carpenters are available?”
“The village carpenter is in the dungeon, my lord,” said Ladon. “But several of the guards have experience building sheds and the like.”
“Send them to the courtyard,” Kolya ordered. “Tell them to begin at once.”
“Begin what, my lord?”
The sheriff’s cold smile reappeared. “New scaffolds, of course. It will take far too long if we have to hang every inhabitant of Atlantis one by one.”
Ladon’s blood ran cold. “My lord,” be began cautiously. “Surely, it was Rodney Hood you wished to hang.”
“True,” Kolya agreed, easily. “And what better way to draw him out than to threaten the lives of the pathetic dregs he protects? If I have to hang a few of them to get his attention…”
“I… I’ll go find the guards with carpentry skills,” Ladon said, and left as quickly as he could.
*
“This way,” whispered John, creeping out from around a large tree.
Normally, Rodney’s band avoided this part of the Royal Forest because it grew so close to the castle walls, but tonight that was an advantage. John knew of a servants’ entrance into the lower levels of the castle and led the way, dressed in a borrowed tunic and dark cloak.
“Remember,” said Rodney, just behind him, “Once we get them out, you head straight back to the forest.”
Jeannie scowled. “We know the plan, Mer.”
“Quiet, both of you,” said John. “Through here.”
The servant’s entrance was overgrown with weeds, but the corridor beyond was even more unused, dusty and shadowed. They made their was silently through the narrow stone passages, past the kitchens and down toward the dungeons.
Slivers of moonlight came in through the bars on the high windows, and as they approached, one of the shapes on the floor stirred.
“Rodney, lad?” whispered Friar Carson.
“Shh!,” Rodney hissed. “Wake the others, keep them quiet.”
“We’re here to get you out,” added John. He moved to the door and began to fiddle with the lock. “Just give me a minute…”
“Is this everyone?” asked Jeannie.
Friar Carson nodded. “Aye,” he said. “Except Jinto-”
“He is safe in our camp,” Teyla assured him.
“Hang on, I’ve almost got it,” muttered John, still working at the lock.
“It might be faster with this,” said a soft voice.
The merry men whirled, swords raised, to see Deputy Sheriff Ladon standing in the dungeon doorway, holding up a key.
He held up both hands, unthreatening. “I’m not your enemy,” he said. “You have no reason to trust me, but…”
“You’re right,” Rodney said. “We don’t trust you.”
“I don’t believe that what you do is right,” Ladon said. “I believe that Prince Michael is the rightful regent until Queen Elizabeth’s return, if she ever does return. But I also know that Kolya has gone too far, and I won’t be party to it anymore.”
John took half a step forward and lowered his sword. “What do you mean?”
“Kolya plans to hang the villagers at dawn. I can’t let that happen, even if it means working with you.”
“We’ll take it,” said Jeannie. When the others turned to look at her, she shrugged. “What else can we do?”
“Okay,” Rodney agreed. “It will be much easier to get this many civilians out of the castle with some inside help. But if you cross us, Ladon…”
“I shall see to him,” said Teyla, which shouldn’t have sounded so terrifying from a woman almost a foot shorter than the man she was threatening.
Ladon nodded. “Agreed.”
“Okay, then,” said Jeannie, and took the key to begin opening the dungeon cells.
As she and Teyla organized everyone, Rodney tugged John to one side. “We’ve got to do something about Michael.”
“Like what?” John hissed back. “We can’t just march into his room and kill him. You might be an outlaw, but you’re not a murderer.”
“No, I’m not,” Rodney allowed, then he brightened. “We can’t kill him now, but we can steal his crown.”
“That would be a serious message,” agreed John. “That he’s not worthy to be Queen Elizabeth’s heir.”
“Let’s go, then. Where’s the vault?”
John snorted. “He keeps it in his bedchamber.”
“Perfect,” muttered Rodney. He caught Jeannie’s eye and she nodded, catching Ladon’s arm and pulling him in the opposite direction. “Let’s go.”
It was much easier sneaking through the castle with just the two of them. John led the way, up back staircases and down side corridors until they reached the royal wing.
“Wait,” John said. “The guards…”
A shadow moved in the corridor beyond, then a familiar voice said, “I believe I shall start my patrol with the far end of the wing.”
“Aidan,” said John.
The young guard winked. “I’ll just leave this very empty corridor and be on my way.”
As he rounded the corner, Rodney blinked. “What just happened?”
“A lucky break,” said John. “Come on.”
Prince Michael had a suite of rooms, hung with luxurious tapestries and full of expensive furniture, lit by the slivers of moonlight from the narrow windows.
“Where’s the crown?” whispered Rodney.
“I didn’t spend a lot of time in here, you know,” John hissed back. “He has a stand for it… it’s empty."
The marble pedestal, topped with a velvet cushion, stood in pride of place beneath a large portrait of the prince - and it was decidedly empty.
“What now?”
Suddenly, a loud snore came from the other room.
John frowned. “You don’t think…?”
“That he sleeps with it?” Rodney said. “I wouldn’t be surprised.”
They crept into the room. Michael’s bed was even more ostentatious, hung with thick velvet and gilded on every available surface. The prince himself was sprawled under satin sheets, crown balanced precariously on his head, snoring loudly.
Rodney stayed in the doorway, hand on the hilt of his sword, as John slunk silently toward the bed. The balcony door facing the foot of the prince’s bed left shadows on the far side, enough to hide John as he made his way across the room.
Michael continued snoring, even as John leaned in, fingers light but steady, and slowly lifted the crown from his head. The jewels sparkled in the moonlight from the balcony and John held it for a moment in the air -
Just as heavy footsteps sounded outside.
“Your Majesty!” Kolya was already speaking as he barreled into the room. “The prisoners have escaped from-”
There was nowhere to hide, even if John and Rodney had been given the chance.
“You!” the sheriff roared and drew his sword.
Rodney drew his own weapon, catching Kolya’s blade as it came down. “John!” he called, in warning.
The shout finally woke Michael, who sat up in bed. “Thief!” he shrieked, and John hastily tucked the crown into his tunic, scrabbling back around the bed.
“I should have known,” Kolya snarled.
Rodney parried another blow. “I’m annoying like that.”
“You-” the sheriff repeated. He raised his sword again, but John parried, joining Rodney in the doorway.
The fight would have been solidly in their favor - Kolya was an excellent swordsman, but he was no match for two opponents, both younger and more skilled than he was - except that Michael continued to shout, and they soon heard loud footsteps in the corridor.
Kolya smiled coldly. “You won’t get away this time, Rodney Hood. How sad that you will have killed Lord John in your failed attempt to assassinate the king.”
“He’ll never be king,” Rodney snapped. “Long live Queen Elizabeth!”
“No!” Michael stood on his bed, face red with rage, then pulled a torch from the wall. “I am the king!”
“You’re a tyrant,” said John. “Long live Queen Elizabeth!”
He jumped backwards as the prince waved the torch, moving out of the way just in time. The bed curtains weren’t so lucky - the thick fabric caught fire easily, and Michael howled in anger. “Get them!”
Kolya ducked around the flaming curtains. “My pleasure, Your Majesty.”
John caught the sheriff’s blow on his sword, and Rodney fell back a step, throwing off his cloak to reveal his bow and quiver.
“You trust me, right?” Rodney asked John, nodding toward the balcony.
“Always,” John agreed.
They moved together, retreating toward the balcony, then Rodney nocked an arrow tied to a rope. It was better than he’d hoped - below were the newly-built hanging scaffolds, easy for an arrow to lodge in. His aim was true and the rope unraveled behind it. Rodney took the loose end from his quiver and secured it to the empty torch bracket inside the window.
John grinned. “Go, Rodney. I’m right behind you.”
Rodney hooked his bow over the rope and moved to the balcony rail. “You’d better be.”
“You’ll never get away with this,” snarled Kolya, but the fire had spread to the bedframe, which had begun to creak alarmingly.
“Get them! Get them!” Michael yelled.
The sheriff raised his sword - and the beam of the bed fell, trapping him in the flaming bed curtains.
“Go,” John repeated. He took off his cloak, throwing one end over the rope, and pulled Rodney over the balcony rail.
Rodney yelped, hanging on to his bow with white-knuckle grips, and only just throwing out one leg to stop them before they hit the scaffold. He tumbled to its platform, shaking, and John collapsed next to him. The other man was shaking, too, and it took Rodney a moment to realize that John was laughing.
“Let’s do that again,” John said.
“Absolutely not,” said Rodney, getting to his feet.
A roar from above made them whirl around. Kolya, his tunic on fire, stood on the balcony rail, ready to repel down the rope from Rodney’s arrow.
“Oh, crap,” John muttered. He drew his dagger and started to cut the rope.
“Don’t leave me!” wailed another voice. Just as Kolya stepped from the rail, Michael seized him around the waist, the two of them swinging wildly, as John severed the end of the rope. They landed in a heap, but Kolya struggled to his feet.
The sun was just rising above the ramparts of the castle, the golden light making Kolya’s scorched tunic look like it was still flaming as he raised his sword.
“There’s nowhere to run,” he snarled.
Michael, still on the ground, glared. “You could have been my heir, John.”
John tightened his grip on his dagger, knowing he would have no chance to draw his own sword. “No, I couldn’t.”
Kolya raised his blade, a wild look in his eyes - just as thunderous hoof beats sounded in the courtyard. He startled, lowering his sword. “What!?”
The portcullis opened, admitting a formation of riders. They came to a stop on the flagstone, and the lead rider slipped from the saddle.
“What is the meaning of this?” demanded Queen Elizabeth.
Kolya scrambled back. “Y-Your Majesty!”
“You have arrived just in time, dear cousin,” said Michael, hurrying to bow to her, trying and failing to look dignified in his singed nightshirt. “The lord sheriff caught these two ruffians breaking into my - your - castle.”
“Is that so?” she asked.
“You have been away a long time,” he said. “I have done my best to keep the peace, to keep my - your - kingdom safe. But this… this outlaw, this Rodney hood, has been against me at every-”
Elizabeth held up a hand to stop him. “Even on crusade, I have heard of Rodney Hood.”
John took another half-step in front of Rodney. “Whatever you heard, it isn’t true,” he said.
The queen arched an eyebrow. “No? Because I heard that, in my absence, Prince Michael had raised taxes, again and again. I heard that the nobles of my court went along with him, supported him, save for two - my own cousin, John, who was kept a prisoner, and the ‘outlaw’ Rodney Hood, who took to the forest and protected our people.”
“Oh,” said John. “No, that’s all true.”
“Then we’re all on the same page,” Elizabeth said, smiling. “Guards! Arrest Prince Michael and Sheriff Kolya.”
“What!?” shrieked Michael. “You can’t - The crown! They’ve stolen the crown!”
John produced it from inside his tunic. “Just keeping it safe, Your Majesty.”
The Queen smiled again, then took the crown and set it atop her head. “Thank you, cousin.”
“Uh, Your Majesty?” said Rodney. “I don’t mean to sound ungrateful, but what about the rest of my people?”
“Yes, your merry men. They should be here any minute.”
“What?” he and John chorused.
“How did you think I knew you needed help?” she asked. “Your sister might have cleared up a few details for me on the way here.”
“Mer!” Jeannie, riding behind a man in a Royal Army uniform, waved as they entered the courtyard. Teyla, Ronon and Evan each rode with other officers, and all four of them slid from the saddles as soon as they entered the courtyard.
“You’re not dead,” continued Jeannie, then stopped and bowed to the queen. “Your Majesty.”
Elizabeth nodded in acknowledgment. “Lady Jean.” She looked around - at the army officers standing with their horses, at the palace guards now holding Michael and Kolya, at John and Rodney standing together - and smiled again. “I believe you promised me the full story of what’s been happening in my absence.”
Jeannie grinned. “Absolutely, Your Majesty.”
*
The bells of the cathedral rang merrily, pealing through the clear spring air. The entire population of Atlantis had gathered on the grounds of the palace, dressed in their finest, and when the cathedral doors opened, they turned eagerly to look.
Chuck, the royal herald, came to stand beside the doors. “Presenting His Grace, John, Duke of Atlantis and His Grace, Meredith, Duke of Kay,” he said, formally, then grinned, “Three cheers for the happy couple!”
John and Rodney both looked splendid in their wedding suits, holding hands and beaming at the world in general as the crowd cheered. The rest of their party - Jeannie and Teyla in new gowns, Ronan and Evan in new suits - followed, smiling just as broadly.
They paused, waving to the crowd, and Queen Elizabeth joined them. “Enjoy your honeymoon, both of you. But not so much that you don’t come back. You’re my heir now, John, there’s things you need to learn.”
He tried to scowl at her, but couldn’t fight his smile. “Yes, Your Majesty.”
“Go,” she said. “Your carriage awaits.”
The carriage stood in the road from the castle, with Aidan’s guard unit, in freshly-pressed uniforms, to accompany them. Once they were seated, John and Rodney turned to look out the large back window, waving to the crowd, which waved back.
As they started moving, John leaned closer to his new husband. “Let’s hope we don’t meet any vigilantes or robbers on the road.”
“I think we could take them,” Rodney said.
John laughed, and kissed him.
THE END
Current Mood:
accomplished