As Time, Unending (Ancient History Challenge) 2/3
As Time, Unending
Pairings: John/Rodney, Rodney/Elizabeth
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: AU Character Death
Summary: John is taken as a slave in the war with Geldar and gifted to the Princess Elizabeth. Rodney is the ship’s captain who loves him. Can they find happiness in a world torn by war and hate?
Words: 18,000+
Author’s Notes: While this is nominally set on Earth (at least in my head), I have chosen to not use Earth-bound countries that anyone would recognize for my fic. Instead, I have chosen to name my countries Hallona and Geldar. Any resemblance to the countries of Hallona and Geldar from the SGA episode ‘The Game’ is purely coincidental.
The Princess Elizabeth stared at her reflection in the mirror, her lips tilted into a frown.
“Your hair does not please you, My Lady?” Elizabeth’s handmaiden, Teyla, stood behind the princess with a brush in hand. Teyla had been working on Elizabeth’s hair for an hour and it had been teased and tamed into little ringlets that framed her lovely face.
“Yes… No… I don’t know.” She frowned at her reflection again. “I just want my betrothed to be happy to see me.”
“I am sure he will be very happy to see you, Highness. After all it has been several months since you have been together.” There was a suggestive lilt to Teyla’s voice and a distinctive mischievous glimmer in her eye.
“That’s just it; I do not think I please him.” Elizabeth blushed at the topic, but it had been bothering her for a long time and she had to talk to someone about it. “We have only been together,” she stumbled over the words and Teyla giggled at her, “once and that was when we were first betrothed.”
“Once?” Teyla’s eyes were wide as if she could not imagine such a thing.
Elizabeth blushed even more and would not meet Teyla’s eyes in the mirror. “It was so…” she searched for a word but couldn’t find one adequate, “I liked it a lot. I liked the kissing especially. But I liked the other, too.”
Teyla giggled again, “Oh, I like the other a lot, too,” she assured her mistress.
“But then he was gone to war with Hallona for such a long time. When he returned, he was… different. Colder. He is still polite to me, but he says he wants to wait until we are married to do it again.” Elizabeth’s fingers curled into a fist as she remembered Rodney’s polite, distant words.
Teyla giggled again, “I’ve never met a man who wants to wait.”
Elizabeth flushed a deeper red and Teyla dropped to her knees at her mistress’ feet trying to make amends, “No, perhaps he is just aware that you are the Princess and he can not treat you as a common handmaiden.”
Elizabeth stroked a hand down Teyla’s face, “You are anything but common, and I want to know of any man who treats you as such. I will have him severely punished,” she said in her most haughty tone.
“I promise, I will tell you,” Teyla smiled. “Now, if you want your betrothed to notice you again, we must make sure that you are dressed to tempt him when you go to meet him today.”
“Tempt him?” Elizabeth asked.
Teyla’s fingers moved to the bosom of Elizabeth’s dress. She twitched the demure folds of Elizabeth’s gown so that her bosom was more exposed. “Yes, we will show him a little of what you have to offer. Perhaps he will show you how warm he really is.”
Elizabeth smiled, pleased at the thought. She nodded. “Yes, I would like that.”
~~~~~
Elizabeth loved going to meet her betrothed at the docks. Seeing the great ships glide in always made her heart swell. Seeing her beloved stride down the plank to meet her always made her breath catch in her throat and she would fall in love all over again. He was so handsome in his uniform. She flushed as she remembered what he looked like without the uniform on.
“Princess,” he greeted her with a low bow. He was always so formal and he treated her like breakable china. Sometimes it made her want to throw things, to prove to him that she was not breakable at all.
“Rodney,” she breathed out his name before she stepped forward and kissed him. She was hoping for so many things. But he was as formal as ever. He returned her kiss with a perfunctory press of his lips to hers. It was not the sweeping embrace that she had hoped for and her heart broke a little in that moment because she finally understood that he would never love her as she did him.
“It is good to see you are well, Princess,” he said in his stiff, formal manner.
“We are going to be married soon, Rodney. I think you can call me Elizabeth,” she told him tartly.
He startled back a step not used to such a tone from her. She wasn’t used to such a tone from her, but she rather liked the reaction. Maybe she had just been using the wrong approach with Rodney all this time. Swept by inspiration she stepped forward and took his arm.
“Do you know, in all the time you’ve been head of my armies and the Captain of my flagship, Atlantis, you have never taken me aboard. I should like to see it.” She tucked her hand in his arm and indicated the gang plank he’d just walked down.
Rodney stared at her, mouth agape and Elizabeth wanted to laugh. “Now?” he asked uncertainly.
“Yes, now.” She tugged on his arm trying to get him to move.
“Prince… Elizabeth, we’ve been out to sea for some time. The ship mostly just stinks right now of sailors and unwashed bodies.”
“Really?” She smiled and pressed herself up against him, letting her breasts brush against him. “It sounds quite exciting.”
Rodney took a step back putting a proper amount of distance between them. “Princess,” he said firmly, “I must report immediately to your father on our successes in battle.”
Elizabeth did her best to not let the tears of frustration fill her eyes, but Rodney must have seen something. “I will bring you back tomorrow and give you the grand tour,” he promised.
She brightened, “Oh, yes, please.”
“And until then, I have a present for you.” Rodney smiled. It was a real smile, one that Elizabeth had not seen for many months, maybe years, from her betrothed. It felt like the sun returning after a spell of grey, rainy days.
“You brought me a present?” He’d never brought her a present before that wasn’t carefully chosen by his brother.
Rodney waved a hand. A man walked down the plank to stand before her. He was tall and handsome enough with a shock of dark hair that stood up in spiky tufts. His eyes met hers in a moment of frank appraisal, they were the color of the sea during a storm - not green, but not grey either. He dropped his eyes when he saw she was looking at him. When he reached Elizabeth and Rodney, he knelt gracefully at their feet.
“This is John,” Rodney said as introduction. His hand went to the man’s shoulder and his touch was gentle, almost a caress. “I thought you might like him as one of your household.”
“A slave?” Elizabeth stared down at the man at her feet. It wasn’t that no one had ever given her a slave before. Teyla was a gift that her father had given her when she had been betrothed to Rodney. It was just that Rodney had never given her a slave. He abhorred slavery and they talked about how to abolish it once they were king and queen upon the throne.
“You don’t want him?” There was an odd note of distress in Rodney’s voice. Elizabeth rushed to reassure him.
“No, no, he is very handsome. I am sure that he will be a fine addition to my house. I was just surprised that is all.” She reached up and kissed Rodney on the cheek. “Thank you.”
“You’re ah… welcome,” Rodney blushed which Elizabeth thought was adorable. “I have another,” he waved and another man moved down the plank to join the one at her feet. This one was a behemoth, a mountain of a man who towered over everyone he passed.
Elizabeth gaped at the two men kneeling before her, “I… Rodney, I don’t know what to say. Does this one have a name, too?”
The first man looked up at her. “He,” he tilted his chin to indicate the other man, “is Ronon. He will protect you with his life, My Lady.”
“Well,” Elizabeth cast about wildly for something to say. “Why don’t I take them home and you can meet with Father?”
Rodney nodded, his hand still on John’s shoulder, “It sounds like a plan. I will see you for dinner, Princess?”
“Of course,” she answered. She stepped back into her litter which would carry her home, her two new slaves following dutifully behind her.
~~~~~~
After an hour of impatient waiting, Rodney’s audience with the king was postponed until the next day. He was grateful for the opportunity to return to his room and rest before he had to go to dinner with Elizabeth. He was exhausted beyond measure.
He hadn’t expected it to be quite so hard to give John to Elizabeth. John had gazed at Rodney with such a look of betrayal as he turned to follow Elizabeth back to the palace. Perhaps he would have preferred to go to the mines, which was where most of the prisoners on Rodney’s ship were headed. But there was no way Rodney could have allowed that. It was backbreaking work in the mines, and the air was unhealthy. Those sent there didn’t live for more than a few months.
Once he reached the sanctuary of his own room, Rodney dropped wearily into a chair. Before he’d even had a chance to relax his brother appeared at his door.
“Ah, here you are brother.” Kavanagh swept into Rodney’s room, taking the chair next to Rodney’s, helping himself to Rodney’s liquor.
“Don’t you ever knock?” Rodney scowled at him. “Just because you are chief advisor to the king doesn’t mean you can just come in here whenever you want.”
Kavanagh looked over at Rodney with a narrow-eyed regard that made Rodney shiver. His brother was ruthless and would do whatever it took to get his family to the throne. The only reason it was Rodney marrying the Princess was because she made no secret of her loathing for Kavanagh. When the subject of the betrothal had come up, Kavanagh had pushed forward Rodney, the Princess’s best friend. It had seemed the perfect solution at the time, and Rodney had been happy enough with it then.
“But I come bearing happy news, brother.” Kavanagh practically purred. He stretched out his legs taking his ease.
Rodney refused to take the bait and ask. He knew that his brother would not be able to withhold his news for long; he was fairly bursting with it.
“Our good king is dying,” Kavanaug told him at last with a surly sneer when Rodney didn’t ask.
“This is happy news? Does the Princess know?” Rodney did not love her in the way she wished, but she was a good and true friend and her father’s death would hurt her a lot.
“She will know soon enough. The king has determined to move up your wedding so that he may see his only daughter happily married before he dies.” Kavanagh’s voice fairly dripped with sarcastic sweetness.
“No.” Rodney jerked as if his brother had slapped him. “I can’t marry the Princess now. I don’t love her.” Rodney had never said that to anyone before. But he owed it to her to free her and let her marry someone who would love her the way she deserved.
“What?” Kavanagh hissed. He leaned in and wrapped a hand around Rodney’s arm pulling him forward. “Love? Who said anything about love, you fool.”
Rodney tried to jerk away. “Let go of me. I will call the guard.”
“The palace guard are loyal to me,” Kavanagh hissed at him. “And they will only come if I call them.” He gave Rodney a shake. “Now listen to me. I have arranged things very carefully so that you can take the Princess and the throne. I have even ‘arranged’ for the king’s death because the old fool was taking too long to die.”
“What?” Rodney whispered. He shrank away from his brother appalled. “I will tell them what you have done.”
Kavanagh smiled and it made Rodney shiver. “Oh, do that, brother, and I shall tell them that you ordered me to poison the king so that you could have the throne.”
Rodney hung limp in his brother’s grasp, barely able to believe what he was hearing. “No one will believe you,” Rodney said, desperate to find some way out of the nightmare that he had fallen into.
“Oh, won’t they?” Kavanagh let go of his arm, confident that Rodney wasn’t going to go anywhere. He sat back in his chair and sipped his wine. “You are the betrothed to the princess. What would I have to gain by poisoning the king?” He held the glass up admiring the way the crystal sparkled in the lamplight. “After all, I’m already the king’s most trusted advisor; I could hardly hope to benefit from the king’s death. You, on the other hand…” he let his words trail off. He let Rodney draw his own conclusions.
Rodney couldn’t believe that he’d been trapped by his brother. He’d always believed Kavanagh to be a sycophantic liar and an idiot. He knew his brother’s ambitions for their family, but Rodney had never thought Kavanagh would stoop to murder to get them there. Now he knew better. And he’d drawn his noose tight around Rodney’s neck. Rodney had only two choices - he could marry Elizabeth or die a traitor.
He glared at Kavanagh, hating him more than he’d ever hated anyone in his life. “You’ve won, are you happy?”
Kavanagh smiled, toasting Rodney in mocking salute. “Oh, very. It makes me so happy to know that my brother will be marrying the love of his life and ascend the throne of Geldar.”
“Get out!” Rodney stood in a fury. He pulled Kavanagh to his feet, pushing him toward the door. “Get out!” He picked up the bottle of wine and threw it after him. It smashed against the wall, the wine leaving a trail of red dripping down to the floor.
“Temper, temper, little brother,” Kavanagh’s laughter rang in the room even after he was gone.
Rodney sank back into the chair, not sure what to do.
“Captain?”
Rodney jerked at the voice. He turned to find John standing at his door. He was dressed as a slave of the Princess in bright silks that hugged his body and showed it to its best advantage. Rodney couldn’t help letting his gaze linger on John’s body - he’d known the sounds John made when he came, he’d seen John writhing in pleasure and knew the taste of his skin. Just looking at him made Rodney hard. John refused to meet his eyes though; he kept his eyes cast down as a proper slave should. In his hand he carried a silver platter with a slip of paper on it. He knelt and presented the platter.
“The Princess desires your presence, My Lord.”
Rodney scowled. He hated that John was on his knees, his head bowed subserviently. John was the least subservient person Rodney had ever met. Even in his submissive pose, the lines of his back were taught and his body fairly thrummed with tension. It made Rodney angry to see him there.
“Oh, get up off your knees,” Rodney snarled.
“My Lord?” John didn’t get up and he didn’t raise his head.
“I said to get off your knees and stop calling me ‘my lord.’”
John did look up then, but it was to glare defiantly at Rodney. “I think you have forgotten, My Lord, that I am a slave. A slave that you gave away.” The hurt look was back.
“Oh, you are the worst slave ever,” Rodney spat as he crossed the room to jerk John to his feet. He slammed him against the wall and crushed their lips together.
At first John was silent and still, but Rodney was stubborn, too. He licked across John’s lips demanding entrance. He bit at John’s bottom lip and rubbed his erection against John’s hip. With a gasp, John opened his mouth, his tongue tangling with Rodney’s.
“You gave me away,” John repeated as they broke apart to gasp for breath.
“You idiot, they were going to send you to the mines. I couldn’t let them do that.” Rodney pressed in to kiss John again but John turned his head away. “John,” he absolutely didn’t whine.
“You are betrothed, My Lord.”
The words were like a bucket of cold water. Rodney staggered away. John stayed pressed against the wall, the silver platter still incongruously in his hand.
“It happened a long time ago,” Rodney tried to explain. “When we were both young and I thought I loved her. I was wrong, I’m sorry. She doesn’t have to know. We can be together, like it was on the ship.” Rodney whispered. He stepped close to John needing to be close, to feel his warmth. John put a hand on his face and smiled sadly.
“I’m sorry, Rodney. It was different on the ship. There it was only the two of us. Here… She’d always be between us and I’d feel like your slave. I’m sorry.” John leaned in and kissed him softly goodbye. He pressed the paper into Rodney’s hands and slipped from the room.
~~~~~
Kavanagh stood outside Rodney’s room hardly believing what he’d just heard. He’d started to reenter his brother’s chamber to make sure he understood that Kavanagh was deadly serious when he’d seen the slave enter. Curious, Kavanagh had hung just outside of Rodney’s door listening to the exchange between his brother and the slave. He wouldn’t have believed it if he hadn’t heard every word himself.
His brother, Rodney McKay, had fucked a slave, seemed to have some measure of feeling for that slave. It was laughably ironic since Kavanagh knew how Rodney felt about slaves and slavery. He might have to take them for king and country but he didn’t have to like it and he absolutely refused to own one. Until now.
It was an interesting development. One that could well be used against his dear brother in order to convince Rodney to cooperate with Kavanagh’s plans for their family. And if the slave ended up being a detriment to those plans, it would be easy enough to have him killed.
~~~~~
Elizabeth sat at her window, staring blindly out as the tears slipped unheeded down her cheeks. She had known for some time that her father was not well, but to hear that he was dying had been more than she could take. She didn’t know how she was going to go on without him.
“I am sorry to disturb you, My Lady,” a voice beside her startled her. Elizabeth found her new slave, John, kneeling at her feet, a cup held in his hand. “Teyla thought you might want something to drink.”
She took the cup from him with a murmured, “thank you.”
“I will leave you.”
“No,” the word jerked from Elizabeth. She didn’t want to be alone. If she were alone, she would grieve. She would have plenty of time to grieve after her father was dead. “Please don’t go.”
Obediently, John sank back to his knees, “I am sorry about your father,” John said, quietly sincere.
She shrugged, “So am I. I don’t think I’m going to be a very good queen.”
“Why do you say that?” He rocked back on his heels to peer up at her.
She stared into her cup, swirling the liquid around hoping to read some hopeful sign there as the mystics could, “Right now the most difficult decision I have to make every day is what gown I shall wear. My country is in a war I hate and my chief advisor is Kavanagh whom I despise. What am I going to do?”
She didn’t expect an answer, but John surprised her, “You are going to be queen, My Lady. If you don’t like the war, change it.” There was hope burning in his eyes and his voice was steady and sure. “If you don’t like your chief advisor, fire him.”
“I can do that?” she asked, startled at the idea.
Amusement filled his voice, “You are the queen, of course you can.”
“Oh,” Elizabeth fell back against the window embrasure; her whole world suddenly filling up. She and Rodney had talked about so many things; it had just never seemed real before, just a game they played. But now… “But will I be a good queen?” she asked him.
He leaned in and took her hand, “I have watched you these last few days, My Lady, and I think you are going to be a great queen.” Elizabeth’s heart thrilled to the quiet certainty in his voice.
“But how do you know?”
“I have watched you and you are a tough negotiator, but a fair one. And you have a good instinct where people are concerned. Why just look at Kavanagh.”
Elizabeth gave a surprised laugh.
“No,” John said seriously. “Your father obviously trusts him, but you do not. Why?”
She thought about it seriously. “He is sly and professes to have my father’s best interests at heart, but I don’t think he does, not really.”
“But how do you know that?” he asked again.
“I… just think… it’s a feeling I have,” she said slowly. She had no proof, nothing that she could point at and see, ‘this is why is not to be trusted,’ but she had disliked Kavanagh for as long as she had known him.
John nodded encouragingly. “It’s called instinct. And it is right. You must learn to trust your instincts, Elizabeth, they will not lead you wrong.”
She wanted to believe him. “I hope you are right.”
He smiled at her easily, “Only history will tell,” he said with a sly grin. He stood and bowed before taking his leave.
“John,” she called. He paused, turning to look back at her. “Thank you,” she said.
He bowed again, “I only speak the truth, My Lady.”
~~~~~
Preparations for the princess’ wedding swept through the palace.
John had no time to think about Rodney or the fact that Rodney was going to be marrying John’s new mistress and John would be forced to see him every single day for the rest of his life, to watch him happy with his Princess, while John was forced to live with the memory of their one night together and the thought of what might have been if their peoples weren’t mortal enemies. It could not be any other way, but John found it hard to think of Rodney lying next to the Princess sated and sleepy, curled around her. So he lost himself in the work and tried to push every other thought from his head.
John hated being a slave. He hated the fact that he had been given a relatively easy life when many of his people were forced to live in squalor and deprivation working in the mines. John visited the slaves’ quarters whenever he could slip away and offered what comfort he could. He made friends with the cooks in the kitchen and convinced them to give him the leavings from meals instead of throwing it out. He would smuggle them in baskets and leave them to alleviate the worst of the suffering he found there. Sometimes he glimpsed faces he knew - the strangest of those was the doctor from the ship.
“John?” The doctor said when he discovered John there.
John sat at the bedside of a man murmuring to him about the beauty of Hallona, trying to distract him from the pain that wracked his body.
“Doctor,” John fell to his knees as was proper for a slave when talking to a freeman. Teyla had taught John and Ronon many of the things they needed to know about life as a slave. John was a little disturbed by her because she watched him intently, a curiously satisfied smile upon her face. It scared him to have her look at him so. But she had also been kind, trying to help to ease them into their new life.
“Now, I’ll have none of that here,” the doctor scolded. He reached down and hooked John’s arm with one hand pulling him up forcibly. “I don’t hold to this slave nonsense. And here there’s no one to care.”
It was true. As a rule no one but the slaves came to their quarters. The doctor was the first person John had seen there that wasn’t a slave. The room they were in was reserved for the infirm. The man that John had been speaking with had been struck by the lung disease that felled so many of those that worked in the mine. His skin was pale white and stretched too thin over his bones, his body was racked by hacking coughs. The rag the man clenched in his fist was stained with blood.
“Can you help him?” John asked the doctor.
Carson shook his head minutely and drew John away. “There is no help for this sickness once they have started to cough up the blood. Maybe if those affected were removed from the mine once they began to cough they might recover, but…” Carson’s words trailed off, his eyes avoiding John’s.
“All I can do is try to ease his passing,” the doctor said. He pressed a vial into John’s hand. “Give it to him in a little wine. He will sleep and never wake.” The doctor moved on to the next patient. The man had been beaten because he wasn’t working hard enough to please the overlords of the mine. Carson took out creams and bandages to smooth over the welts in his back.
John stared down at the vial in his hand and then back at the man in the bed. He had once been a colonel in the Hallona army. His name was Sumner and John’s father had mourned him greatly when he had been taken. John had seen him from his window often as he worked his men in the courtyard; he had been hale and hearty then, bigger than life. Now he was a husk, withered by the disease that ate away his body.
His eyes were intent on John. He had heard the entire exchange; he knew what the vial in John’s hands was for. There was nothing wrong with his mind though his body might be withered beyond hope of recovery.
“Do it,” Sumner whispered. He had no voice left; it had been burned away by the cough, but the words were plain nonetheless. “Please.”
John knew that he would rather die than lie helplessly in bed unable to care for himself knowing that he was a burden to all around him. He nodded. He went to the basket that he carried from the kitchens. In the bottom was a bottle of wine that still had a cup or so of liquid in the bottom. John had slipped it in when the cook wasn’t looking. He had been intending to give it to Ronon or Teyla. Instead he pulled out the stopper and poured in the liquid from the vial. He swirled it around to be sure it was all mixed together.
He sat next to Sumner and helped him to sit up. Supporting Sumner against his chest, John held the bottle steady so Sumner could drink. John wiped his chin as coughing shook the frail body and he couldn’t keep all the wine down. It must have been enough though because soon the coughing stopped and Sumner’s body relaxed in John’s hold until his head tipped over and his chest failed to move.
John straightened the now-lifeless body in the bed. He covered Sumner with his own fine cloak knowing he could well be punished for losing it and took his leave, his heart heavy with grief.
Of course the first person he met in the hallway outside the room was Rodney. John stopped in shock to see him there, standing incongruously in the slave’s quarters. John wanted… But what he wanted did not matter anymore.
“John, stop!” Rodney called as John turned abruptly away.
John knelt, feeling as if he might split in two from the need to run as far away from Rodney as he could get and the need to throw himself at his lover and lose himself there.
“No, gods, John, no,” Rodney’s voice was full of pain. John was spitefully glad that someone else was hurt by this as much as he was.
“Rodney, please, I just helped a man die, can we not do this now?” John grated the words out, his chest a knot of pain and misery.
“John?”
“Rodney, I can’t do this now. Maybe…” John didn’t know what maybe. There could be no maybe for them. He made himself remember Sumner dying in his arms.
“John, please. I thought you were just a slave and I’d be able to give you away but I can’t and if Kavanagh finds out…” John didn’t know what Rodney was rambling about, but there was too much pain in Rodney’s voice for John to ignore. “Come away with me,” Rodney pulled John up and pressed him against the wall. “We can run away together. Somewhere that’s not Geldar or Hallona. Somewhere where we can be together.”
John met Rodney’s eyes then. He could see the love and hope shining there. He leaned in and let himself kiss Rodney. He let himself think about a life with the two of them together, exploring the world during the day and nights spent together in each other’s arms.
Rodney sensed his victory was close. He stroked John’s cheek, “Here you are just a slave and I will be trapped in a loveless marriage. We can go away and explore the world together. Please.”
John knew he shouldn’t, but he was so full of grief from watching Sumner die, he couldn’t do that again. He nodded. Rodney’s smile was incandescent. “Thank you,” he breathed against John’s lips as he caught them against his own. “Thank you,” he breathed again as he moved to kiss behind John’s ear. His hands were on John’s body, too, sweeping up under the silks John wore to smooth over bare skin.
They were in the slave’s quarters in the afternoon when most of the slaves were at their duties. The place was nearly empty except for the sick and inform, and none of the slaves would give them notice anyway. But they were far to public for John’s comfort. “No,” John pushed at Rodney, “we can’t do this here, Rodney, someone will see.”
Rodney was too far gone in his passion to think. He gazed at John with lust-addled eyes and continued to push in kissing John’s neck, his hands wandering into John’s pants, palming John’s cock and squeezing gently.
John grabbed his hand and pulled Rodney towards a room that John knew would be empty at that time of day. From the corner of his eye, John thought he saw movement but when he turned to look there was no one there.
~~~~~
Teyla hurried through the halls of the palace keeping an eye out for John. She had sent Ronon down to the docks to look for him there. Sometimes John liked to go there and watch the ships come in. She had seen him there once with a lost look on his face, gazing out over the water towards far-away Hallona. She knew from Ronon that he dreamed often of his home. She hurt for him, wishing there was a way to ease his pain; she would bare it for him if she could.
She had looked everywhere she could think of in the palace and now her steps carried her to the slave’s quarters. He would bring what supplies he could wheedle from the cooks in the kitchen. He also went through the things the palace was disposing, seeking still usable supplies that could be sent to the slaves - clothes and blankets being the most useful things he found.
She spied him at last as John as was slipping from an out of the way room. He was not alone. She hid herself in the shadows as she saw that he was followed by none other than the Princess’ betrothed, Captain Rodney McKay. Both men were crumpled, John’s silks stained and wrinkled. Rodney wrapped a hand around John’s neck as he passed him in the door and kissed him.
Teyla stood in the shadows, irresolute, unsure if she should go away and leave the two men or if she should make some noise and warn them that they were not alone. They would probably go unheeded in the slave’s quarters, but sometimes others would walk these corridors, they were not completely safe. Before she could make up her mind either way, they parted with a final word and Rodney went on his way. John stood watching him leave.
Before she could lose her courage, Teyla stepped forward. “John,” she said to warn him of her presence.
He started at seeing her step out of the shadows. His gaze tracked to where Rodney had just disappeared. “Did you…?” he didn’t finish his sentence. His eyes when he turned them back to hers were troubled.
“You do not need to fear what I have seen, John. I have been keeping your secrets for some time now.”
John stood silent waiting for her to finish.
“I know who you are, Sheppard,” she told him simply.
John looked around hurriedly making sure they were alone. He pulled her into the room he had just left. It smelled sharply of sex.
“You must never say that word here,” he told her.
“Ronon told me that, too,” she said. “But I do not understand why you don’t want the people to know who are. It would give them comfort.”
“It would give them comfort to know that their prince is now a slave?” He turned away from her, his voice was harsh.
Teyla went to him. He was taller than her, so tall, as a prince should be. She had to reach up to catch his face. She turned his face so that she could look into his eyes, “It would give them comfort to know that you are alive. Even here, far from Hallona, we heard that the Prince was taken and we have sorrowed. The king was beside himself. He led the troops himself to try and rescue his son. Because of that, the king himself was taken.”
“What?” John gasped as if something inside of him had been broken. “Teyla, no.”
“I am sorry, my Prince. I was there when the Princess was told. He is in the prison beneath the palace now.”
John drew himself up and in that moment he looked every inch the prince even in his stained and wrinkled silks.
“I must see him,” he said simply.
Teyla did not protest or tell him it was impossible. This was her Prince. “I will find a way,” she assured him.
~~~~~
John did not question Teyla about how she would get him in to see his father. She said it would happen and so it would. He was not surprised when she came to him after the house was asleep and shook his shoulder to wake him. He sat up, instantly awake.
“Sheppard,” she whispered. “It is time.”
She held a small lantern to light their way. Behind Teyla, John could see Ronon looming. So much for her not telling anyone.
He nodded and slipped from his bed. He didn’t reach for the silk that he wore when waiting on the Princess. Instead he pulled on the simpler garb that he wore when he was helping to tend the fields or at some other hard labor. It was of a rougher weave and would hopefully be unnoticed as they passed through the halls. Although there wasn’t really much chance of that. The three of them made an interesting group with Ronon towering over everyone they met and Teyla’s small, lithe form. He just hoped they didn’t meet anyone who would remember them or question three slaves moving about the palace at night.
Fortune was with them. They made it to the prison without anyone challenging them. Teyla pressed something into the jailor’s hand and he unlocked the door for them.
“What did you give him?” John demanded. The only things they had of value were gifts given them by their masters. The princess was kind and generous to her slaves. Teyla often wore jewelry that was a gift from her mistress.
“It is of little consequence if it will aid you, my Prince,” she said quietly.
“Don’t call me that,” he scowled down at her.
She just smiled sweetly at him. She handed him the lantern she carried and indicated the door open in front of them.
John hesitated briefly before stepping into the room. The only light in the room was from the lantern John held; it spread a soft pool of light around him, but its light did not reach the corners of the room. The straw on the floor was dirty and shapes moved in it and the room stank of fear and blood. John lifted the lantern higher and spied a huddled shape in the shadows.
“Father?” He called softly hardly daring to think that it was his father in that terrible place.
The figure stirred and blinked up into the light. There was a moment’s silence as the man’s eyes adjusted to the sudden intrusion of light into his dark world. Then, “John?”
The man pushed himself up and threw his arms around his son. “You are alive,” he said into John’s neck.
John wrapped his arm awkwardly around his father. Theirs had never been a family who indulged in overt displays of affection. John’s father told him he was proud of him often enough and ruffled his wild hair once in a while. But now, his father wrapped his arms around John and held on as if John might escape if he let go.
At last he pulled back, “You are alive.” A smile lit up his face.
“I am so sorry, father,” John said. “I’m sorry, I got captured, I was careless and walking alone…”
His father stopped the torrent of words with a finger to John’s lips. “It is alright. You are alive. That is all that matters.”
“No,” John protested. “They are going to kill you. They are going to put you on one of their death barges and set it afire. You will burn to death.”
His father cupped John’s face gently, “But I have seen that the son whom I thought was dead is alive. I will die a happy man.”
“No,” John insisted stubbornly. He extracted himself from his father’s embrace. He went to the door where Teyla and Ronon waited quietly. Drawing them inside, he said, “There must be a way we can help my father to escape.”
Teyla and Ronon exchanged a furtive glance. They had already been discussing this.
“Yes?” John snapped impatiently.
Ronon shrugged. Teyla took a deep breath. “It involves Rodney,” she said.
Part 3
Pairings: John/Rodney, Rodney/Elizabeth
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: AU Character Death
Summary: John is taken as a slave in the war with Geldar and gifted to the Princess Elizabeth. Rodney is the ship’s captain who loves him. Can they find happiness in a world torn by war and hate?
Words: 18,000+
Author’s Notes: While this is nominally set on Earth (at least in my head), I have chosen to not use Earth-bound countries that anyone would recognize for my fic. Instead, I have chosen to name my countries Hallona and Geldar. Any resemblance to the countries of Hallona and Geldar from the SGA episode ‘The Game’ is purely coincidental.
The Princess Elizabeth stared at her reflection in the mirror, her lips tilted into a frown.
“Your hair does not please you, My Lady?” Elizabeth’s handmaiden, Teyla, stood behind the princess with a brush in hand. Teyla had been working on Elizabeth’s hair for an hour and it had been teased and tamed into little ringlets that framed her lovely face.
“Yes… No… I don’t know.” She frowned at her reflection again. “I just want my betrothed to be happy to see me.”
“I am sure he will be very happy to see you, Highness. After all it has been several months since you have been together.” There was a suggestive lilt to Teyla’s voice and a distinctive mischievous glimmer in her eye.
“That’s just it; I do not think I please him.” Elizabeth blushed at the topic, but it had been bothering her for a long time and she had to talk to someone about it. “We have only been together,” she stumbled over the words and Teyla giggled at her, “once and that was when we were first betrothed.”
“Once?” Teyla’s eyes were wide as if she could not imagine such a thing.
Elizabeth blushed even more and would not meet Teyla’s eyes in the mirror. “It was so…” she searched for a word but couldn’t find one adequate, “I liked it a lot. I liked the kissing especially. But I liked the other, too.”
Teyla giggled again, “Oh, I like the other a lot, too,” she assured her mistress.
“But then he was gone to war with Hallona for such a long time. When he returned, he was… different. Colder. He is still polite to me, but he says he wants to wait until we are married to do it again.” Elizabeth’s fingers curled into a fist as she remembered Rodney’s polite, distant words.
Teyla giggled again, “I’ve never met a man who wants to wait.”
Elizabeth flushed a deeper red and Teyla dropped to her knees at her mistress’ feet trying to make amends, “No, perhaps he is just aware that you are the Princess and he can not treat you as a common handmaiden.”
Elizabeth stroked a hand down Teyla’s face, “You are anything but common, and I want to know of any man who treats you as such. I will have him severely punished,” she said in her most haughty tone.
“I promise, I will tell you,” Teyla smiled. “Now, if you want your betrothed to notice you again, we must make sure that you are dressed to tempt him when you go to meet him today.”
“Tempt him?” Elizabeth asked.
Teyla’s fingers moved to the bosom of Elizabeth’s dress. She twitched the demure folds of Elizabeth’s gown so that her bosom was more exposed. “Yes, we will show him a little of what you have to offer. Perhaps he will show you how warm he really is.”
Elizabeth smiled, pleased at the thought. She nodded. “Yes, I would like that.”
~~~~~
Elizabeth loved going to meet her betrothed at the docks. Seeing the great ships glide in always made her heart swell. Seeing her beloved stride down the plank to meet her always made her breath catch in her throat and she would fall in love all over again. He was so handsome in his uniform. She flushed as she remembered what he looked like without the uniform on.
“Princess,” he greeted her with a low bow. He was always so formal and he treated her like breakable china. Sometimes it made her want to throw things, to prove to him that she was not breakable at all.
“Rodney,” she breathed out his name before she stepped forward and kissed him. She was hoping for so many things. But he was as formal as ever. He returned her kiss with a perfunctory press of his lips to hers. It was not the sweeping embrace that she had hoped for and her heart broke a little in that moment because she finally understood that he would never love her as she did him.
“It is good to see you are well, Princess,” he said in his stiff, formal manner.
“We are going to be married soon, Rodney. I think you can call me Elizabeth,” she told him tartly.
He startled back a step not used to such a tone from her. She wasn’t used to such a tone from her, but she rather liked the reaction. Maybe she had just been using the wrong approach with Rodney all this time. Swept by inspiration she stepped forward and took his arm.
“Do you know, in all the time you’ve been head of my armies and the Captain of my flagship, Atlantis, you have never taken me aboard. I should like to see it.” She tucked her hand in his arm and indicated the gang plank he’d just walked down.
Rodney stared at her, mouth agape and Elizabeth wanted to laugh. “Now?” he asked uncertainly.
“Yes, now.” She tugged on his arm trying to get him to move.
“Prince… Elizabeth, we’ve been out to sea for some time. The ship mostly just stinks right now of sailors and unwashed bodies.”
“Really?” She smiled and pressed herself up against him, letting her breasts brush against him. “It sounds quite exciting.”
Rodney took a step back putting a proper amount of distance between them. “Princess,” he said firmly, “I must report immediately to your father on our successes in battle.”
Elizabeth did her best to not let the tears of frustration fill her eyes, but Rodney must have seen something. “I will bring you back tomorrow and give you the grand tour,” he promised.
She brightened, “Oh, yes, please.”
“And until then, I have a present for you.” Rodney smiled. It was a real smile, one that Elizabeth had not seen for many months, maybe years, from her betrothed. It felt like the sun returning after a spell of grey, rainy days.
“You brought me a present?” He’d never brought her a present before that wasn’t carefully chosen by his brother.
Rodney waved a hand. A man walked down the plank to stand before her. He was tall and handsome enough with a shock of dark hair that stood up in spiky tufts. His eyes met hers in a moment of frank appraisal, they were the color of the sea during a storm - not green, but not grey either. He dropped his eyes when he saw she was looking at him. When he reached Elizabeth and Rodney, he knelt gracefully at their feet.
“This is John,” Rodney said as introduction. His hand went to the man’s shoulder and his touch was gentle, almost a caress. “I thought you might like him as one of your household.”
“A slave?” Elizabeth stared down at the man at her feet. It wasn’t that no one had ever given her a slave before. Teyla was a gift that her father had given her when she had been betrothed to Rodney. It was just that Rodney had never given her a slave. He abhorred slavery and they talked about how to abolish it once they were king and queen upon the throne.
“You don’t want him?” There was an odd note of distress in Rodney’s voice. Elizabeth rushed to reassure him.
“No, no, he is very handsome. I am sure that he will be a fine addition to my house. I was just surprised that is all.” She reached up and kissed Rodney on the cheek. “Thank you.”
“You’re ah… welcome,” Rodney blushed which Elizabeth thought was adorable. “I have another,” he waved and another man moved down the plank to join the one at her feet. This one was a behemoth, a mountain of a man who towered over everyone he passed.
Elizabeth gaped at the two men kneeling before her, “I… Rodney, I don’t know what to say. Does this one have a name, too?”
The first man looked up at her. “He,” he tilted his chin to indicate the other man, “is Ronon. He will protect you with his life, My Lady.”
“Well,” Elizabeth cast about wildly for something to say. “Why don’t I take them home and you can meet with Father?”
Rodney nodded, his hand still on John’s shoulder, “It sounds like a plan. I will see you for dinner, Princess?”
“Of course,” she answered. She stepped back into her litter which would carry her home, her two new slaves following dutifully behind her.
~~~~~~
After an hour of impatient waiting, Rodney’s audience with the king was postponed until the next day. He was grateful for the opportunity to return to his room and rest before he had to go to dinner with Elizabeth. He was exhausted beyond measure.
He hadn’t expected it to be quite so hard to give John to Elizabeth. John had gazed at Rodney with such a look of betrayal as he turned to follow Elizabeth back to the palace. Perhaps he would have preferred to go to the mines, which was where most of the prisoners on Rodney’s ship were headed. But there was no way Rodney could have allowed that. It was backbreaking work in the mines, and the air was unhealthy. Those sent there didn’t live for more than a few months.
Once he reached the sanctuary of his own room, Rodney dropped wearily into a chair. Before he’d even had a chance to relax his brother appeared at his door.
“Ah, here you are brother.” Kavanagh swept into Rodney’s room, taking the chair next to Rodney’s, helping himself to Rodney’s liquor.
“Don’t you ever knock?” Rodney scowled at him. “Just because you are chief advisor to the king doesn’t mean you can just come in here whenever you want.”
Kavanagh looked over at Rodney with a narrow-eyed regard that made Rodney shiver. His brother was ruthless and would do whatever it took to get his family to the throne. The only reason it was Rodney marrying the Princess was because she made no secret of her loathing for Kavanagh. When the subject of the betrothal had come up, Kavanagh had pushed forward Rodney, the Princess’s best friend. It had seemed the perfect solution at the time, and Rodney had been happy enough with it then.
“But I come bearing happy news, brother.” Kavanagh practically purred. He stretched out his legs taking his ease.
Rodney refused to take the bait and ask. He knew that his brother would not be able to withhold his news for long; he was fairly bursting with it.
“Our good king is dying,” Kavanaug told him at last with a surly sneer when Rodney didn’t ask.
“This is happy news? Does the Princess know?” Rodney did not love her in the way she wished, but she was a good and true friend and her father’s death would hurt her a lot.
“She will know soon enough. The king has determined to move up your wedding so that he may see his only daughter happily married before he dies.” Kavanagh’s voice fairly dripped with sarcastic sweetness.
“No.” Rodney jerked as if his brother had slapped him. “I can’t marry the Princess now. I don’t love her.” Rodney had never said that to anyone before. But he owed it to her to free her and let her marry someone who would love her the way she deserved.
“What?” Kavanagh hissed. He leaned in and wrapped a hand around Rodney’s arm pulling him forward. “Love? Who said anything about love, you fool.”
Rodney tried to jerk away. “Let go of me. I will call the guard.”
“The palace guard are loyal to me,” Kavanagh hissed at him. “And they will only come if I call them.” He gave Rodney a shake. “Now listen to me. I have arranged things very carefully so that you can take the Princess and the throne. I have even ‘arranged’ for the king’s death because the old fool was taking too long to die.”
“What?” Rodney whispered. He shrank away from his brother appalled. “I will tell them what you have done.”
Kavanagh smiled and it made Rodney shiver. “Oh, do that, brother, and I shall tell them that you ordered me to poison the king so that you could have the throne.”
Rodney hung limp in his brother’s grasp, barely able to believe what he was hearing. “No one will believe you,” Rodney said, desperate to find some way out of the nightmare that he had fallen into.
“Oh, won’t they?” Kavanagh let go of his arm, confident that Rodney wasn’t going to go anywhere. He sat back in his chair and sipped his wine. “You are the betrothed to the princess. What would I have to gain by poisoning the king?” He held the glass up admiring the way the crystal sparkled in the lamplight. “After all, I’m already the king’s most trusted advisor; I could hardly hope to benefit from the king’s death. You, on the other hand…” he let his words trail off. He let Rodney draw his own conclusions.
Rodney couldn’t believe that he’d been trapped by his brother. He’d always believed Kavanagh to be a sycophantic liar and an idiot. He knew his brother’s ambitions for their family, but Rodney had never thought Kavanagh would stoop to murder to get them there. Now he knew better. And he’d drawn his noose tight around Rodney’s neck. Rodney had only two choices - he could marry Elizabeth or die a traitor.
He glared at Kavanagh, hating him more than he’d ever hated anyone in his life. “You’ve won, are you happy?”
Kavanagh smiled, toasting Rodney in mocking salute. “Oh, very. It makes me so happy to know that my brother will be marrying the love of his life and ascend the throne of Geldar.”
“Get out!” Rodney stood in a fury. He pulled Kavanagh to his feet, pushing him toward the door. “Get out!” He picked up the bottle of wine and threw it after him. It smashed against the wall, the wine leaving a trail of red dripping down to the floor.
“Temper, temper, little brother,” Kavanagh’s laughter rang in the room even after he was gone.
Rodney sank back into the chair, not sure what to do.
“Captain?”
Rodney jerked at the voice. He turned to find John standing at his door. He was dressed as a slave of the Princess in bright silks that hugged his body and showed it to its best advantage. Rodney couldn’t help letting his gaze linger on John’s body - he’d known the sounds John made when he came, he’d seen John writhing in pleasure and knew the taste of his skin. Just looking at him made Rodney hard. John refused to meet his eyes though; he kept his eyes cast down as a proper slave should. In his hand he carried a silver platter with a slip of paper on it. He knelt and presented the platter.
“The Princess desires your presence, My Lord.”
Rodney scowled. He hated that John was on his knees, his head bowed subserviently. John was the least subservient person Rodney had ever met. Even in his submissive pose, the lines of his back were taught and his body fairly thrummed with tension. It made Rodney angry to see him there.
“Oh, get up off your knees,” Rodney snarled.
“My Lord?” John didn’t get up and he didn’t raise his head.
“I said to get off your knees and stop calling me ‘my lord.’”
John did look up then, but it was to glare defiantly at Rodney. “I think you have forgotten, My Lord, that I am a slave. A slave that you gave away.” The hurt look was back.
“Oh, you are the worst slave ever,” Rodney spat as he crossed the room to jerk John to his feet. He slammed him against the wall and crushed their lips together.
At first John was silent and still, but Rodney was stubborn, too. He licked across John’s lips demanding entrance. He bit at John’s bottom lip and rubbed his erection against John’s hip. With a gasp, John opened his mouth, his tongue tangling with Rodney’s.
“You gave me away,” John repeated as they broke apart to gasp for breath.
“You idiot, they were going to send you to the mines. I couldn’t let them do that.” Rodney pressed in to kiss John again but John turned his head away. “John,” he absolutely didn’t whine.
“You are betrothed, My Lord.”
The words were like a bucket of cold water. Rodney staggered away. John stayed pressed against the wall, the silver platter still incongruously in his hand.
“It happened a long time ago,” Rodney tried to explain. “When we were both young and I thought I loved her. I was wrong, I’m sorry. She doesn’t have to know. We can be together, like it was on the ship.” Rodney whispered. He stepped close to John needing to be close, to feel his warmth. John put a hand on his face and smiled sadly.
“I’m sorry, Rodney. It was different on the ship. There it was only the two of us. Here… She’d always be between us and I’d feel like your slave. I’m sorry.” John leaned in and kissed him softly goodbye. He pressed the paper into Rodney’s hands and slipped from the room.
~~~~~
Kavanagh stood outside Rodney’s room hardly believing what he’d just heard. He’d started to reenter his brother’s chamber to make sure he understood that Kavanagh was deadly serious when he’d seen the slave enter. Curious, Kavanagh had hung just outside of Rodney’s door listening to the exchange between his brother and the slave. He wouldn’t have believed it if he hadn’t heard every word himself.
His brother, Rodney McKay, had fucked a slave, seemed to have some measure of feeling for that slave. It was laughably ironic since Kavanagh knew how Rodney felt about slaves and slavery. He might have to take them for king and country but he didn’t have to like it and he absolutely refused to own one. Until now.
It was an interesting development. One that could well be used against his dear brother in order to convince Rodney to cooperate with Kavanagh’s plans for their family. And if the slave ended up being a detriment to those plans, it would be easy enough to have him killed.
~~~~~
Elizabeth sat at her window, staring blindly out as the tears slipped unheeded down her cheeks. She had known for some time that her father was not well, but to hear that he was dying had been more than she could take. She didn’t know how she was going to go on without him.
“I am sorry to disturb you, My Lady,” a voice beside her startled her. Elizabeth found her new slave, John, kneeling at her feet, a cup held in his hand. “Teyla thought you might want something to drink.”
She took the cup from him with a murmured, “thank you.”
“I will leave you.”
“No,” the word jerked from Elizabeth. She didn’t want to be alone. If she were alone, she would grieve. She would have plenty of time to grieve after her father was dead. “Please don’t go.”
Obediently, John sank back to his knees, “I am sorry about your father,” John said, quietly sincere.
She shrugged, “So am I. I don’t think I’m going to be a very good queen.”
“Why do you say that?” He rocked back on his heels to peer up at her.
She stared into her cup, swirling the liquid around hoping to read some hopeful sign there as the mystics could, “Right now the most difficult decision I have to make every day is what gown I shall wear. My country is in a war I hate and my chief advisor is Kavanagh whom I despise. What am I going to do?”
She didn’t expect an answer, but John surprised her, “You are going to be queen, My Lady. If you don’t like the war, change it.” There was hope burning in his eyes and his voice was steady and sure. “If you don’t like your chief advisor, fire him.”
“I can do that?” she asked, startled at the idea.
Amusement filled his voice, “You are the queen, of course you can.”
“Oh,” Elizabeth fell back against the window embrasure; her whole world suddenly filling up. She and Rodney had talked about so many things; it had just never seemed real before, just a game they played. But now… “But will I be a good queen?” she asked him.
He leaned in and took her hand, “I have watched you these last few days, My Lady, and I think you are going to be a great queen.” Elizabeth’s heart thrilled to the quiet certainty in his voice.
“But how do you know?”
“I have watched you and you are a tough negotiator, but a fair one. And you have a good instinct where people are concerned. Why just look at Kavanagh.”
Elizabeth gave a surprised laugh.
“No,” John said seriously. “Your father obviously trusts him, but you do not. Why?”
She thought about it seriously. “He is sly and professes to have my father’s best interests at heart, but I don’t think he does, not really.”
“But how do you know that?” he asked again.
“I… just think… it’s a feeling I have,” she said slowly. She had no proof, nothing that she could point at and see, ‘this is why is not to be trusted,’ but she had disliked Kavanagh for as long as she had known him.
John nodded encouragingly. “It’s called instinct. And it is right. You must learn to trust your instincts, Elizabeth, they will not lead you wrong.”
She wanted to believe him. “I hope you are right.”
He smiled at her easily, “Only history will tell,” he said with a sly grin. He stood and bowed before taking his leave.
“John,” she called. He paused, turning to look back at her. “Thank you,” she said.
He bowed again, “I only speak the truth, My Lady.”
~~~~~
Preparations for the princess’ wedding swept through the palace.
John had no time to think about Rodney or the fact that Rodney was going to be marrying John’s new mistress and John would be forced to see him every single day for the rest of his life, to watch him happy with his Princess, while John was forced to live with the memory of their one night together and the thought of what might have been if their peoples weren’t mortal enemies. It could not be any other way, but John found it hard to think of Rodney lying next to the Princess sated and sleepy, curled around her. So he lost himself in the work and tried to push every other thought from his head.
John hated being a slave. He hated the fact that he had been given a relatively easy life when many of his people were forced to live in squalor and deprivation working in the mines. John visited the slaves’ quarters whenever he could slip away and offered what comfort he could. He made friends with the cooks in the kitchen and convinced them to give him the leavings from meals instead of throwing it out. He would smuggle them in baskets and leave them to alleviate the worst of the suffering he found there. Sometimes he glimpsed faces he knew - the strangest of those was the doctor from the ship.
“John?” The doctor said when he discovered John there.
John sat at the bedside of a man murmuring to him about the beauty of Hallona, trying to distract him from the pain that wracked his body.
“Doctor,” John fell to his knees as was proper for a slave when talking to a freeman. Teyla had taught John and Ronon many of the things they needed to know about life as a slave. John was a little disturbed by her because she watched him intently, a curiously satisfied smile upon her face. It scared him to have her look at him so. But she had also been kind, trying to help to ease them into their new life.
“Now, I’ll have none of that here,” the doctor scolded. He reached down and hooked John’s arm with one hand pulling him up forcibly. “I don’t hold to this slave nonsense. And here there’s no one to care.”
It was true. As a rule no one but the slaves came to their quarters. The doctor was the first person John had seen there that wasn’t a slave. The room they were in was reserved for the infirm. The man that John had been speaking with had been struck by the lung disease that felled so many of those that worked in the mine. His skin was pale white and stretched too thin over his bones, his body was racked by hacking coughs. The rag the man clenched in his fist was stained with blood.
“Can you help him?” John asked the doctor.
Carson shook his head minutely and drew John away. “There is no help for this sickness once they have started to cough up the blood. Maybe if those affected were removed from the mine once they began to cough they might recover, but…” Carson’s words trailed off, his eyes avoiding John’s.
“All I can do is try to ease his passing,” the doctor said. He pressed a vial into John’s hand. “Give it to him in a little wine. He will sleep and never wake.” The doctor moved on to the next patient. The man had been beaten because he wasn’t working hard enough to please the overlords of the mine. Carson took out creams and bandages to smooth over the welts in his back.
John stared down at the vial in his hand and then back at the man in the bed. He had once been a colonel in the Hallona army. His name was Sumner and John’s father had mourned him greatly when he had been taken. John had seen him from his window often as he worked his men in the courtyard; he had been hale and hearty then, bigger than life. Now he was a husk, withered by the disease that ate away his body.
His eyes were intent on John. He had heard the entire exchange; he knew what the vial in John’s hands was for. There was nothing wrong with his mind though his body might be withered beyond hope of recovery.
“Do it,” Sumner whispered. He had no voice left; it had been burned away by the cough, but the words were plain nonetheless. “Please.”
John knew that he would rather die than lie helplessly in bed unable to care for himself knowing that he was a burden to all around him. He nodded. He went to the basket that he carried from the kitchens. In the bottom was a bottle of wine that still had a cup or so of liquid in the bottom. John had slipped it in when the cook wasn’t looking. He had been intending to give it to Ronon or Teyla. Instead he pulled out the stopper and poured in the liquid from the vial. He swirled it around to be sure it was all mixed together.
He sat next to Sumner and helped him to sit up. Supporting Sumner against his chest, John held the bottle steady so Sumner could drink. John wiped his chin as coughing shook the frail body and he couldn’t keep all the wine down. It must have been enough though because soon the coughing stopped and Sumner’s body relaxed in John’s hold until his head tipped over and his chest failed to move.
John straightened the now-lifeless body in the bed. He covered Sumner with his own fine cloak knowing he could well be punished for losing it and took his leave, his heart heavy with grief.
Of course the first person he met in the hallway outside the room was Rodney. John stopped in shock to see him there, standing incongruously in the slave’s quarters. John wanted… But what he wanted did not matter anymore.
“John, stop!” Rodney called as John turned abruptly away.
John knelt, feeling as if he might split in two from the need to run as far away from Rodney as he could get and the need to throw himself at his lover and lose himself there.
“No, gods, John, no,” Rodney’s voice was full of pain. John was spitefully glad that someone else was hurt by this as much as he was.
“Rodney, please, I just helped a man die, can we not do this now?” John grated the words out, his chest a knot of pain and misery.
“John?”
“Rodney, I can’t do this now. Maybe…” John didn’t know what maybe. There could be no maybe for them. He made himself remember Sumner dying in his arms.
“John, please. I thought you were just a slave and I’d be able to give you away but I can’t and if Kavanagh finds out…” John didn’t know what Rodney was rambling about, but there was too much pain in Rodney’s voice for John to ignore. “Come away with me,” Rodney pulled John up and pressed him against the wall. “We can run away together. Somewhere that’s not Geldar or Hallona. Somewhere where we can be together.”
John met Rodney’s eyes then. He could see the love and hope shining there. He leaned in and let himself kiss Rodney. He let himself think about a life with the two of them together, exploring the world during the day and nights spent together in each other’s arms.
Rodney sensed his victory was close. He stroked John’s cheek, “Here you are just a slave and I will be trapped in a loveless marriage. We can go away and explore the world together. Please.”
John knew he shouldn’t, but he was so full of grief from watching Sumner die, he couldn’t do that again. He nodded. Rodney’s smile was incandescent. “Thank you,” he breathed against John’s lips as he caught them against his own. “Thank you,” he breathed again as he moved to kiss behind John’s ear. His hands were on John’s body, too, sweeping up under the silks John wore to smooth over bare skin.
They were in the slave’s quarters in the afternoon when most of the slaves were at their duties. The place was nearly empty except for the sick and inform, and none of the slaves would give them notice anyway. But they were far to public for John’s comfort. “No,” John pushed at Rodney, “we can’t do this here, Rodney, someone will see.”
Rodney was too far gone in his passion to think. He gazed at John with lust-addled eyes and continued to push in kissing John’s neck, his hands wandering into John’s pants, palming John’s cock and squeezing gently.
John grabbed his hand and pulled Rodney towards a room that John knew would be empty at that time of day. From the corner of his eye, John thought he saw movement but when he turned to look there was no one there.
~~~~~
Teyla hurried through the halls of the palace keeping an eye out for John. She had sent Ronon down to the docks to look for him there. Sometimes John liked to go there and watch the ships come in. She had seen him there once with a lost look on his face, gazing out over the water towards far-away Hallona. She knew from Ronon that he dreamed often of his home. She hurt for him, wishing there was a way to ease his pain; she would bare it for him if she could.
She had looked everywhere she could think of in the palace and now her steps carried her to the slave’s quarters. He would bring what supplies he could wheedle from the cooks in the kitchen. He also went through the things the palace was disposing, seeking still usable supplies that could be sent to the slaves - clothes and blankets being the most useful things he found.
She spied him at last as John as was slipping from an out of the way room. He was not alone. She hid herself in the shadows as she saw that he was followed by none other than the Princess’ betrothed, Captain Rodney McKay. Both men were crumpled, John’s silks stained and wrinkled. Rodney wrapped a hand around John’s neck as he passed him in the door and kissed him.
Teyla stood in the shadows, irresolute, unsure if she should go away and leave the two men or if she should make some noise and warn them that they were not alone. They would probably go unheeded in the slave’s quarters, but sometimes others would walk these corridors, they were not completely safe. Before she could make up her mind either way, they parted with a final word and Rodney went on his way. John stood watching him leave.
Before she could lose her courage, Teyla stepped forward. “John,” she said to warn him of her presence.
He started at seeing her step out of the shadows. His gaze tracked to where Rodney had just disappeared. “Did you…?” he didn’t finish his sentence. His eyes when he turned them back to hers were troubled.
“You do not need to fear what I have seen, John. I have been keeping your secrets for some time now.”
John stood silent waiting for her to finish.
“I know who you are, Sheppard,” she told him simply.
John looked around hurriedly making sure they were alone. He pulled her into the room he had just left. It smelled sharply of sex.
“You must never say that word here,” he told her.
“Ronon told me that, too,” she said. “But I do not understand why you don’t want the people to know who are. It would give them comfort.”
“It would give them comfort to know that their prince is now a slave?” He turned away from her, his voice was harsh.
Teyla went to him. He was taller than her, so tall, as a prince should be. She had to reach up to catch his face. She turned his face so that she could look into his eyes, “It would give them comfort to know that you are alive. Even here, far from Hallona, we heard that the Prince was taken and we have sorrowed. The king was beside himself. He led the troops himself to try and rescue his son. Because of that, the king himself was taken.”
“What?” John gasped as if something inside of him had been broken. “Teyla, no.”
“I am sorry, my Prince. I was there when the Princess was told. He is in the prison beneath the palace now.”
John drew himself up and in that moment he looked every inch the prince even in his stained and wrinkled silks.
“I must see him,” he said simply.
Teyla did not protest or tell him it was impossible. This was her Prince. “I will find a way,” she assured him.
~~~~~
John did not question Teyla about how she would get him in to see his father. She said it would happen and so it would. He was not surprised when she came to him after the house was asleep and shook his shoulder to wake him. He sat up, instantly awake.
“Sheppard,” she whispered. “It is time.”
She held a small lantern to light their way. Behind Teyla, John could see Ronon looming. So much for her not telling anyone.
He nodded and slipped from his bed. He didn’t reach for the silk that he wore when waiting on the Princess. Instead he pulled on the simpler garb that he wore when he was helping to tend the fields or at some other hard labor. It was of a rougher weave and would hopefully be unnoticed as they passed through the halls. Although there wasn’t really much chance of that. The three of them made an interesting group with Ronon towering over everyone they met and Teyla’s small, lithe form. He just hoped they didn’t meet anyone who would remember them or question three slaves moving about the palace at night.
Fortune was with them. They made it to the prison without anyone challenging them. Teyla pressed something into the jailor’s hand and he unlocked the door for them.
“What did you give him?” John demanded. The only things they had of value were gifts given them by their masters. The princess was kind and generous to her slaves. Teyla often wore jewelry that was a gift from her mistress.
“It is of little consequence if it will aid you, my Prince,” she said quietly.
“Don’t call me that,” he scowled down at her.
She just smiled sweetly at him. She handed him the lantern she carried and indicated the door open in front of them.
John hesitated briefly before stepping into the room. The only light in the room was from the lantern John held; it spread a soft pool of light around him, but its light did not reach the corners of the room. The straw on the floor was dirty and shapes moved in it and the room stank of fear and blood. John lifted the lantern higher and spied a huddled shape in the shadows.
“Father?” He called softly hardly daring to think that it was his father in that terrible place.
The figure stirred and blinked up into the light. There was a moment’s silence as the man’s eyes adjusted to the sudden intrusion of light into his dark world. Then, “John?”
The man pushed himself up and threw his arms around his son. “You are alive,” he said into John’s neck.
John wrapped his arm awkwardly around his father. Theirs had never been a family who indulged in overt displays of affection. John’s father told him he was proud of him often enough and ruffled his wild hair once in a while. But now, his father wrapped his arms around John and held on as if John might escape if he let go.
At last he pulled back, “You are alive.” A smile lit up his face.
“I am so sorry, father,” John said. “I’m sorry, I got captured, I was careless and walking alone…”
His father stopped the torrent of words with a finger to John’s lips. “It is alright. You are alive. That is all that matters.”
“No,” John protested. “They are going to kill you. They are going to put you on one of their death barges and set it afire. You will burn to death.”
His father cupped John’s face gently, “But I have seen that the son whom I thought was dead is alive. I will die a happy man.”
“No,” John insisted stubbornly. He extracted himself from his father’s embrace. He went to the door where Teyla and Ronon waited quietly. Drawing them inside, he said, “There must be a way we can help my father to escape.”
Teyla and Ronon exchanged a furtive glance. They had already been discussing this.
“Yes?” John snapped impatiently.
Ronon shrugged. Teyla took a deep breath. “It involves Rodney,” she said.
Part 3