Dragon Knight (6/7) SGA AU
Dragon Knight (6/7)
author:
tari_roo
Rating: PG13 (gen)
Disclaimer: I own nothing, I profit from nothing but oh boy, do I wish I had a dragon. Or was a dragon. Or knew a dragon. *sigh*
Summary: Sequel to Geek Knight vs. the Black Dragon. Atlantis is imminently under attack by an Asuran fleet, and Queen Elizabeth has a desperate last chance plan. Recapture the dragon that is supposedly their last hope in defeating the Asurans. Rodney McKay and his team are back on their quest to capture the black dragon, Jhepard-shon. Shep though is determined not to be found... mostly because he is still recovering from the last attack.
Chapter 6
Abruptly the light disappeared and broken masonry fell into the throne room, falling from overhead, cracking and splintering the floor. The roar of noise from the battle in streets rang all around them as soldiers and knights struggled to hold back the Asurans.
Blinking against the afterimages from the too bright light, Elizabeth stared at what - who stood before her. It took several long heart beats before Elizabeth fully digested the implications of it all. The dragon was gone, his massive frame vanished as if it had never existed. The room was empty, larger in the dragon’s absence, the wide open expanse where the window had been unobstructed.
Instead, standing near where that massive head with its very large teeth had threatened was a man. He was attired in black armour that mimicked the effect of dragon scales. Tall, slight of frame, skinny even, his skin was pale like it had never seen the sun. The armour fit him snugly, had few embellishments, and highlighted his long limbs and bare hands and feet. His hair was a mess of spikes and cowlicks. He blinked rapidly, nearly falling to his knees as the next missile rocked the building.
“Oh, sure - you get clothes,” Catchell-meron grumbled nearby. The incongruity of that statement was almost enough to snap her out of the daze. Elizabeth stared at his bare feet, small and pink, peeking out from under black shin greaves. Shooting his friend a look but without saying a word, the man strode up the steps of the throne, his legs eating up the distance. As each bare foot touched a step, it lit up, a blue panel glowing on each stair. Elizabeth felt the muted, barely audible hum of Atlantis surge to a roar as he neared the throne. She had seen her grandfather climb those stairs on many occasions to sit before ceremonies and rituals. They had never lit up, not for him, her father, or her.
When the man sat down on the throne, a sound rolled through the city like a deep bell tone, long and sonorous. More lights in the throne room appeared from fixtures and apertures covered by tapestries depicting the millennia long reign of the Atlanteans. Cerulean blue power lines humming with magic appeared on the floor, running up towards the throne. Ancient magic surged through the room, bringing its own illumination. Rodney squawked beside her and quickly backed away from several tables and stools that rose out of the floor.
Jhepard-shon pushed back on the throne, and it obeyed, the high back lowering. Instantly images from around the city appeared in the room and above his head: the Asuran fleet, its landed towering Automatons, as well as the struggling Atlantean defenders. Elizabeth scanned those images, desperate to see what was happening, and desperate for the dragon to act.
At the same time though awe rushed through Elizabeth - awe and wonder that such power, such magic had lain within the City - and they had had no idea of its scope and ability.
Power thrummed through Shep as he felt Atlantis slowly wake - like a giant rousing from ages of slumber, sluggish and awkward. Thin curious fingers of awareness touched his mind, questioning, exploring. Shep opened himself up to them, lowered his barriers and smiled, “Hey.”
Atlantis stirred in response like she was shaking off the dust, and suddenly the massive weight of her awareness pressed down on his mind. She was like no other being Shep had met, and her touch was not gentle as if she were out of practice. He grimaced as she grumbled and groaned, complaining about things that made no sense to him, a stream of images of dark corridors and broken crystals battering his mind. He let them wash over him and just tried to stay afloat in the sea of sensory information she was pumping in.
Whatever her opinion of the state of her vast structures was, nonetheless, she was glad to have him and have him she did. In fact, she was positively delighted as the prospect of talking, of having someone who could hear her. Shep felt her possessive fingers tugging at his brain, whispering and promising so much wonder. Struggling to focus but holding on, Shep prodded her further awake.
“Come on, old girl. Time to flex those muscles. Your people need you.”
The throne thrummed with power as he channeled it, and it obeyed instantly, coursing through him, like no other energy or strength he had ever felt. As quickly as it ran through his veins, it was gone, out into the City, bearing commands and orders. Atlantis responded with a new, deep rumble of reverberation. It was peculiar, but Shep felt buildings moving, doors opening, floodgates, aqueducts and avenues clearing, like it was his own body, only not.
Atlantis opened her eyes - so to speak and awoke to see an attack, damage and destruction. She responded almost immediately to the threat attacking her walls, breaching them, destroying her streets, her people. Atlantis’s roar was silent but shook Shep with its intensity. Without thinking about how he knew to do so, Shep raised a shield of defence- an all encompassing ward that covered the City. It rose like a silvery blue dome over even the highest spire. It clicked shut in his mind and immediately turned back missiles and spells alike from the Asuran Fleet.
Distantly, as if he was underwater, he heard voices raised in alarm, feet running. All too quickly his attention was fixed on the Asurans both outside the shield and those still inside the City. The Fleet responded with a massive magic assault. Hundreds of concussives and magic balls of energy battered the shield. The steady, unrelenting rain severely tested the shield, but it held with Atlantis determinedly pushing power to maintain it. Shep dug deep into the untapped wells of power that lay within Atlantis, which she opened up to him, urging him to respond.
“Okay, we got the juice, now what?” he murmured to her, poking her gently.
Atlantis burbled a response and opened up her array of defences to Shep, and instantly he was almost at a loss with the over abundance of choice. Missiles of such a wide variety flashed before his eyes, magical and physical. High beams of pure energy. Flooding the streets. Viruses and plagues. Fire. Ice. Water. Magic that burned like the Sun.
Shep, who had been feeling weak and drained before his transformation and who was being bolstered by Atlantis’s strength, decided on simple and decisive. He needed to end the battle soon, lest he lose himself in the torrent of Atlantis’s awareness. The banks of missiles Atlantis had on hand was staggering. Using the images, he targeted every single Asuran he could see. Shep triggered barely a smattering of the missiles, and the rain of golden deadly missiles, directed by his intelligence, flooded the sky momentarily before hurtling down towards the battle.
Obedient and smart enough to track moving targets, each one found their mark and obliterated an Asuran Iron Soldier. Within a few seconds, the majority of the enemy was gone, only smoking fragments remaining. The surviving Asuran automatons inside the shield responded by targeting the missile banks and blasting off a round of magic arrows, beams, and spells. Their firepower was so diminished after the first volley that it barely scratched the surface of the missile turrets.
From his distant perch, Shep watched the Atlanteans rally in the streets. Princess Samantha’s bright gold hair marked her on the battle ground as it shone in the light of the burning city and Automatons. She rallied her troops and charged into the fray, her sword glinting in the sun. Between the knights’ counter offensive, the few Atlantean Mechanicals that remained, and Shep’s second volley of missiles, the Asuran Iron Soldiers within the shield fell in a spray of mechanical parts or vanished in a plume of destructive magic.
He turned his attention to the Fleet, the massive iron ships still battering the shield ineffectually with barrage after barrage of magic. They were a harder target, and it took more than one missile barrage to sink one ship, but sink it he did. The ship keeled over as the waters of the Bay flooded through tears in the hull. Shep didn’t wait for the ship to completely sink, his attention already on the rest of the Fleet. They were still battering away at Atlantis, determined to the last to overcome by sheer strength. By the time he had sunk four more ships, the rest were retreating, pumping out magic like water, trying to reverse out of the harbour under a contained hail of offensive magic missiles.
Caught up in the moment and heat of success, Shep pursued the ships, changing to long range missiles and sinking three more and damaging at least six before the Asurans escaped even that range. The ships that survived did not stop and soon disappeared over the horizon, trailing smoke and oil on the water. None of the incredible and once invincible army of Automatons survived, their wrecked parts scattered all over the city.
Atlantis burbled with excitement, her awareness fully awake and eager, still keen to do battle, the decisiveness of the attacks too quick for her. She wanted more, wanted to fly, to continue the pursuit. Before Shep could think twice, she purged her missile banks of power and began to redirect her energy towards a series of cells beneath the ground. Star maps and drive protocols flooded the view before his eyes, and Shep felt her yearn for the sky, plotting a course to intercept the Asurans.
With difficulty, Shep tried to persuade her to stay put, very certain he was not ready to handle a flying City. “Don’t flood those engines, sweetheart. We need that juice for the city... yeah, the city. It’s damaged - look see.”
With a great deal of effort, Shep changed the views back to Atlantis, the streets on fire, the buildings in ruins, the shattered walls. Firmly Shep showed her the need, practically dragged her awareness back to her people. The citizens of Atlantis were running about, trying to save their homes, the soldiers standing shell-shocked on the walls or battling fires. Buildings were still on fire, people were rushing about looking for loved ones, with fresh cries of grief rending the air. There was so much still to do in the City itself, the damage from the attack like a deep wound scored into the skin. While the parts of the City closest to the harbour and wall were the worst hit, almost every defensive structure, spire, turret, guard station was damaged from the attack. The Central Tower itself was unsteady after being under concentrated, targeted barrages.
“Come on, love. They need you more.”
Abruptly, like she just switched that part of her off, Atlantis dropped the urge for battle and bustled about prepping for repairs, her focus back on her own needs. And they were many. She dragged his mind with her as she travelled into her own innards where an array of parts, machines, and devices activated, and even more damaged was discovered - this time from the years of neglect. Atlantis muttered to herself and grumbled and gently let him go, too busy to hold onto his mind with the challenges of serious self-repair before her.
The shift back into his own body was peculiar, as he felt far too small and fragile. Everything hurt, like he’d been slapped against the wall a few times and shaken about. Slowly, Shep sat up and opened his eyes. Fresh real daylight, even though the sun was obscured by the plumes of smoke, hurt his eyes after the magic eyes of Atlantis. The disconnect from having a thousand eyes back to two was weird, and he almost sank back into Atlantis reflexively to fix it. The throne room looked like a disaster zone, both from his own attack and the Asurans’, with stone and glass strewn everywhere and tapestries ripped and on the floor. The humans were all still there: the Queen in her untested battle armour, her face a mixture of relief and concern. Everyone was looking at him, especially the Queen,the Athosian knight, the irritating knight who had captured him ... was it only two days ago, the scholar, the wizards. Cam.
Shep felt the weight of his loss crash down on him as he met Cam’s gaze.
Breaking the tense silence, Queen Elizabeth straightened and took a few steps towards him, her expression blank but pleasant. “Thank you. Thank you for saving my city.” She bowed slightly, and Shep noted her emphasise. The other humans in the room watched nervously, and Cam moved in his direction. Several of the knights, notably the ones who had held Cam, had their swords drawn and seemed poised for action.
Feeling weak and drained, Shep slowly stood the strength rushing out of him as Atlantis busied herself elsewhere. That bolstering flow of energy from her trickled down to a small stream, and he felt very light headed. Very aware of her fears, he replied calmly, “Queen Elizabeth, please tell your people not to freak out when a bunch of little devices, Atlantis’s own automatons appear. She is going to help with repairs. In fact...” and he paused.
Outside through the open double doors, a stream of small automatons buzzed past heading towards the damage in the Tower. They were in a variety of shapes and sizes - mostly overgrown bugs, orbs, and floating lights. “There they go. They’ll take care of the fires first,” Shep finished. The Queen’s worry ate at him, her fear that he was going to try usurp her - that her own battle was only beginning. She did not yet understand the price she had already paid. The Queen barely glanced at the machines, her focus was entirely on him and Cam. Her sword lay at her feet, and to her credit she only looked at it once.
The others in the room were distracted by the small automatons, and turned and watched the stream of hundreds of the little things take to the air and head down to the City. Rodney McKay, the knight who had started his journey to Atlantis, hurried over to the yawning precipice that had once been the windows. “Who the hell knew we had those!” he cried, a strange excitement in his voice. “Just look at them!”
A few of the automatons entered the throne room and started hovering over the damage, beginning to repair it. They appearance was so... engaging that few saw Shep slowly take a step down the stairs, and his knees buckled.
A wave of exhausted lassitude washed over him, almost drowning his awareness completely, and Shep felt the edges of black unconsciousness threaten to tumble him right over. The pain of the Bane was gone - lost in the transformation, and it was an intense relief. He had pushed himself far too much and had tapped out his own reserves hours ago.
Shep felt himself fall and could do nothing to stop it.
Belatedly, he felt strong arms catch him and just as the blackness claimed him, he saw Cam’s face, bent over him, his mouth moving. His last thought was - “It’s all gone.”
Cam stood to one side, uncaring of the excitement the little robots were causing. Shep was pale, pale as milk and moonshine, and just as he was about to move closer to lend a hand, his friend collapsed.
Cam ran but only just reached Shep in time, catching him as his head would have hit the top step. Cradling his friend, his suddenly fragile, small friend, Cam said softly, “I got you, I got you.” If Shep heard him before unconsciousness claimed him, he made no sign of it, his eyes fluttering and closing. The black armour was supple but hard, and Cam fingered it softly. No Trueborn had changed in Cam’s lifetime, and the armour was a real surprise.
Shep’s human face was also a surprise, although he couldn’t quite figure out why. How do you imagine someone would look when they changed shape? Even as a human though, Shep looked hurt, with dark bruising around his eyes, and lines of pain around his mouth. Abruptly, the two humans who had captured him, Teyla and Ronon, loomed over them, and Cam glared back. “Is he well?” Sir Teyla asked, her eyes darting over Shep’s body.
“No, thanks to you,” Cam snarled, pulling Shep closer, determined to protect his friend. Their vulnerability struck him. They were alone in a room of humans who had reason to fear them, even if Shep had just saved them all. Cam was days away from regaining strength sufficient to change back. Shep was out for the count, his innate magic unable to protect them. Cam couldn’t help the growl or the shiver of fear that ran up his spine. This was bad.
Dropping to his haunches, the scholar, Ronon, studied him and Shep, his gaze friendly and concerned. Meeting Cam’s eyes with frank and genuine concern, he rumbled, “My rooms are closest. He can rest there.”
Startled, Cam stared back to him in surprise. Above him, Sir Teyla was no longer looking at Shep. Instead her face was turned to the rest of the room, her long warrior’s que arcing over her back like a dragon tail. No one else approached them, no running feet, no angry words. Cam looked up at her and blinked rapidly in surprise. She had her sword out, but it was pointed away - pointed at her friends.
I swear on my sword, my life is yours.
Her oath rang in his ears, and Cam tried to wrap his head around this abrupt turn of events. Ronon’s gaze was still steady, patient as he waited for Cam to decide to trust them. Cam stared back, trying to divine the truth of the situation. Were they being genuine? In the end, it did not matter. Shep needed a quiet place to rest, and the Athosian had sworn on her life. Eventually Teyla’s stalwart protective posture and Ronon’s earnest expression persuaded him. The man’s eyes and silence were far more persuasive than words.
Cam growled at Ronon, “The room needs to be warm, and you had better get as much food as you can... for when he wakes.”
Cam did not even say to himself - if he wakes.
Looking down, Teyla nodded and motioned in the direction they should take. Ronon helped Cam stand, but Cam shook him off when he tried to take some of Shep’s weight. “Leave it.” Cradling Shep in his arms, the weight of his friend heavy but bearable, Cam studied the collected faces in the room. The Queen had not received the confirmation she wanted, and her face was closed off and angry. A similar tension radiated off her guards, but the nattering little knight and his two mage friends were completely ignoring them, busy talking furiously and waving at Atlantis’s robots.
With nothing to say, Cam narrowed his eyes and nodded briefly at the Queen. He felt her eyes on his back as Ronon led him from the throne room, with Teyla covering their retreat. He did not turn around.
She could wait.
*sga*dragon*sga*dragon*sga*dragon* sga*dragon*sga*dragon*sga*dragon* sga*dragon*sga*dragon*sga*dragon
Rodney had not been in many battles in his career as a knight. He preferred the confines of his laboratory with Carson and Radek, or his study at home than a campaign or expedition. This had been by far the biggest and most important battle he had ever been in, and he found himself at a loss as to what to do with himself now that it was over.
The little automatons - who varied in size and purpose- were doing most of the work in repairing the City and doing it faster and better than any human Atlantean. They had distracted him for a good while but were disinclined to stay still long enough for him to examine their workings and innards.
They also packed a nasty punch if you tried to zap one into submission.
So instead, nursing his burned hand, Rodney found himself heading towards the small meal room on his floor, the one he, Carson and Radek used when they emerged after a long spell of working on their devices. As expected, his friends were there - but so were Teyla, Ronon and Evan. The room was crowded as a result.
Ronon’s presence was no surprise as his room was currently occupied. There was plenty to discuss, and he loved a good debate. Teyla occasionally joined them but considering events, it was unexpected to find their little party all in one place. At least Teyla was due to be in the brig. Evan had probably only ever joined them once, but he had nonetheless decided to do so now.
Conversation stopped as he entered the room, and Carson kicked out a chair around the crowded little table. The table was covered in food, mostly meats and breads, and Rodney’s stomach rumbled. He hadn’t had a proper meal in days. Radek poured him a glass of something no doubt vile and bitter from his homeland. Rodney sat, took the glass, and took a long sip. He spluttered a little, and everyone smiled tired smiles, but the drink stayed down.
Before Rodney could pull one of the plates over, Evan cleared his throat, and all eyes turned to him. “To victory,” Evan raised his glass and quietly, somberly they all drank. They should have all felt more relief, more joy, at this unexpected triumph. The mood of the toast reflected the mood of the City. Hissing against the burn of the alcohol, Rodney coughed, “Victory indeed. But at what price?”
Carson nodded and tipped his glass forward, his gaze studying the liquid. “Too soon to tell, I think. I know the Queen fears a play for her throne.” Rodney, Evan, and Radek nodded in agreement. Elizabeth’s posture had screamed uncertainty, and it was a logical leap. The City responded to the dragon, and he may well desire the Realm of Equestria as his price.
Ronon snorted and shook his head. “I do not think the Dragon means to rule. That would be too obvious.”
“This is not some fairytale, Ronon,” Evan replied, pointing at the scholar. “Just because it is obvious, does not mean it is not correct.”
Still shaking his head, Ronon disagreed, “We have misjudged the dragons before. We would do well to wait and see before rushing to hasty actions.”
To this, Evan frowned but did not reply. Keen to diffuse the tension, Radek murmured, “At least Atlantis has awoken,” and he tapped the table quietly.
Rodney agreed unhappily, “A fine secret that - that the City itself is a giant Mechanical Device.”
“Don’t be so simplistic, Rodney. The City is hardly akin to one of our devices. The metaphor certainly fits, to be sure, but she is a far greater creature than that.” Carson smiled, leaning his head back and looking up the high ceiling above.
Evan pointed out sharply, “Who is to say what surprises await us on that front? A City that suddenly thinks and lives.” He raised an eyebrow in skepticism. “Who knows? Perhaps the Ancients put it to sleep for a reason.”
There were several murmurs of agreement from around the table, no one having a real response to that. Rodney sipped his drink and tried to find a measure of excitement, or at least peace. The city was safe, they were safe. Why did it feel so hollow? Why did it feel like the ground still about to fall out from under them? Was it just the uncertainty of the ‘price’ and the newness of a City they all thought they knew but suddenly so very different?
Teyla cleared her throat and all eyes moved to her. Of their group, she still faced the direst of consequences, a sentence yet unpronounced, and an oath to fulfill. Each stood in stark contradiction of the other, and her fate lay in Elizabeth’s hands. She did not have a drink, and her hands were clasped before her on the table. “I know some of you disagree with my actions, and my feelings about the Dragon. And time will only tell if,” she paused, her eyes seeking theirs. “I feel I must make amends with the Dragon, with Jhepard-shon. Although we acted together, and I was not alone in capturing him, I ... feel a debt. A large debt.”
“But you have no idea .... about anything, Teyla! Not what the Queen will require of you, let alone the Black Dragon,” Evan said sternly, earnestly. “Please rethink...”
Smiling firmly, Teyla said softly, “Whatever your fears, Lorne - I must trust Jhepard-shon. My own honour will not allow anything less than service and restitution.”
Honour was such a tricky aspect to life. Rodney had felt the keen bite of shame and dishonor, and while he did not feel the same level of guilt about the dragon as Teyla did, he could understand her view. He had saved their lives and from the start, they had acted thoughtlessly.
“Pish tosh, Teyla - you did not know...”
Shushing Carson, Ronon took her hand and said quietly,” Whatever happens, we will be here. Ready to help.”
They all nodded, Teyla smiled, and Rodney grumbled, “Even if it means facing down a dragon - again.”
*sga*dragon*sga*dragon*sga*dragon* sga*dragon*sga*dragon*sga*dragon* sga*dragon*sga*dragon*sga*dragon
Part 7