[Stargate: Fiction] "Compatibility of Souls: Chapter Two: When in Cymru" [3/12] [John/Rodney, G]
Title: Chapter Two: When in Cymru
Author: Ami Ven
Rating: G
Word Count: 1,100
Prompt: mcsheplets challenge #052 ‘destiny’
Fandom: Stargate Atlantis
Pairing(s): John Sheppard/Rodney McKay
Summary: John is a Roman centurion and Rodney is a Celtic princess.
Chapter Two: When in Cymru
Warning! This chapter contains mentions of historically-accurate arranged marriages that don’t actually happen in this chapter.
Gobannium, Cymru (modern-day Abergavenny, Wales)
382 A.D.
It was raining. It had been raining, and Iohannes was sick of it. He knew it was part of his punishment, being sent so far from Rome, but that didn’t mean he had to like it.
“There you are,” said an irritated voice, and Iohannes looked up to see a woman striding toward him, scowling. She was broad-shouldered, wearing a plain linen gown that matched the blue of her eyes. There were smudges of ink on her hands, and several strands of honey-blonde hair had worked loose of her simple braid.
“Good morning, Princess Meredydd,” he drawled.
Her scowl deepened. “And what’s so good about it? It’s been raining for three days straight. Mark my words, centurion, we’re all going to catch some horrible rain-borne disease and die slow, agonizing deaths.”
Iohannes couldn’t have stifled his smile if he’d tried. “Gods, I missed you,” he said.
Meredydd flushed faintly pink. “You did?”
He waved her into the headquarters building. Once, Meredydd would have been accompanied by at least two of his soldiers- not to mention the guards her sister, Queen Bethan, sent with her- but after three years, Iohannes’s security had gotten admittedly lax.
Meredydd plopped onto the couch beneath the window. It was the best seat in the room, she often said, and she’d claimed it as her own the very first time she’d come barging into his camp to call him an idiot. At the time, he’d found it infuriating, but now, Iohannes thought it was endearing.
He found a lot of things about Meredydd endearing.
“Where have you been?” she demanded. “I’ve had to deal with your moronic subordinates for months now. Even Bethan was starting to get annoyed with me.”
For all that Romans were taught about foreign ‘barbarians’, and especially foreign women, Iohannes had a great deal of respect for Queen Bethan. Not only did she rule one of the most peaceful Celtic tribes in Britania, she had negotiated a fair trade agreement with the local Roman governor- and on top of that, she dealt with Meredydd.
Iohannes set his helmet on the desk and glanced over the neatly-rolled parchments his lieutenant had left for him. “I had to go back to Rome,” he said, even though he had told her all of this before he’d left. “To report on my cohort’s progress in Britania.”
“Technically, this isn’t Britania,” said Meredydd. “This is Cymru. It’s just that you Romans are too stupid to tell the difference.”
“Gee, thanks,” Iohannes drawled, sorting through the parchments.
“No, I-” Meredydd began, then she sat up, suddenly. “Wait, why did you have to go to Rome? You send them messages with, well, military precision. And they write back. So what could they actually need to see you for?”
Iohannes kept his eyes on his desk. “The emperor feels his soldiers are spread too far,” he said. He probably shouldn’t have been telling her this, but it was Meredydd. “The outermost forces are being recalled. Cohorts in Hispania, Africa… Cymru.”
“You’re leaving!?” Meredydd gasped, surging to her feet.
“As I recall, you didn’t want us here in the first place,” said Iohannes.
“That was you collectively,” said Meredydd. “You personally…”
“Yeah?” he asked.
“Well, yes,” she said, pacing the empty space between his desk and the hearth. “Despite your hair, and your apparent inability to stand up straight when confronted by an entranceway, you are reasonably intelligent. There may even have been a few things that Bethan and I couldn’t have been able to accomplish quite as well without your help.”
“Happy to be of service,” said Iohannes. He began looking for a blank sheet of parchment.
In theory, Roman army camps could be disassembled and moved at a moment’s notice, but his camp had been in the same location for three years now, and he had fewer men than when they’d set it up. There was a lot they could leave behind, but a lot they would have to take with them. With fewer men, they’d have to set up smaller camps along the way, and they had no auxilia to support them. Plus, they’d need boats to reach Gaul, before they even started thinking about camps and marching.
Iohannes looked up, intending to ask Meredydd if there were any merchants leaving Britania who would trade passage for a bit of security duty, but instead he blurted, “I don’t want to go.”
“Then stay,” she said.
He snorted- if only it was that simple. “Meredydd-”
She moved around the desk to stand beside him, the fabric of her skirt brushing his bare knees. “Stay, Iohannes,” she said, softly.
“Meredydd…”
“I thought I’d resigned myself to a marriage of alliance,” she said. “Even though the men in the other clans are complete and utter morons. Bethan has been able to work out other agreements, and I’ve, er, persuaded a few would-be suitors.”
One corner of her mouth quirked into a smile and Iohannes couldn’t help smiling back- he’d been on the receiving end of Meredydd’s ‘persuasions’, which had more in common with tidal waves than conversations.
“And to be honest,” she continued, “I was hoping never to marry at all. I… I just wouldn’t make a very good wife. I talk too much and I don’t listen well. A husband would expect me to stop doing my natural study experiments, so that I could keep house and make babies. But I…” Meredydd took a deep breath, fingers twisted into her skirt. “I think I might like that. Babies. If their father was you.”
Iohannes’s brain struggled to keep up, but he was still a few sentences behind. “I would never-” he began, and Meredydd took a step back, expression clouding. Iohannes caught her hands, tugging gently when she resisted. “I would never stop you from doing your experiments,” he said. “I would never make you do anything you didn’t want to.”
“What about something I do want?” Meredydd asked, stepping closer again.
He stood, bringing both of her hands, still in both of his, to his heart. “Name it.”
“Kiss me?” Meredydd tried to make it a command, but it came out as a question- and one that Iohannes was happy to answer. She kissed him back just as fiercely, and flushed a flattering pink when they broke for air.
“So,” said Iohannes, settling his hands comfortably on her hips. “How many babies are we talking about here?”
“About a dozen, if you keep kissing me like that,” said Meredydd.
And, really, he had no other choice after that but to lean in and kiss her again.
Who’s Who
John Sheppard as Iohannes, Roman centurian
Rodney McKay as Meredydd, celtic (Welsh) princess
Elizabeth Weir as Bethan, Meredydd’s sister, celtic (Welsh) queen (this could also be Teyla, since her character never appears in the story)
Aidan Ford (technically) as Iohannes’s unnamed second-in-command (this could also be Lorne, but he was in the last one)
Chapter Three
Current Mood:
apathetic
Author: Ami Ven
Rating: G
Word Count: 1,100
Prompt: mcsheplets challenge #052 ‘destiny’
Fandom: Stargate Atlantis
Pairing(s): John Sheppard/Rodney McKay
Summary: John is a Roman centurion and Rodney is a Celtic princess.
Chapter Two: When in Cymru
Warning! This chapter contains mentions of historically-accurate arranged marriages that don’t actually happen in this chapter.
Gobannium, Cymru (modern-day Abergavenny, Wales)
382 A.D.
It was raining. It had been raining, and Iohannes was sick of it. He knew it was part of his punishment, being sent so far from Rome, but that didn’t mean he had to like it.
“There you are,” said an irritated voice, and Iohannes looked up to see a woman striding toward him, scowling. She was broad-shouldered, wearing a plain linen gown that matched the blue of her eyes. There were smudges of ink on her hands, and several strands of honey-blonde hair had worked loose of her simple braid.
“Good morning, Princess Meredydd,” he drawled.
Her scowl deepened. “And what’s so good about it? It’s been raining for three days straight. Mark my words, centurion, we’re all going to catch some horrible rain-borne disease and die slow, agonizing deaths.”
Iohannes couldn’t have stifled his smile if he’d tried. “Gods, I missed you,” he said.
Meredydd flushed faintly pink. “You did?”
He waved her into the headquarters building. Once, Meredydd would have been accompanied by at least two of his soldiers- not to mention the guards her sister, Queen Bethan, sent with her- but after three years, Iohannes’s security had gotten admittedly lax.
Meredydd plopped onto the couch beneath the window. It was the best seat in the room, she often said, and she’d claimed it as her own the very first time she’d come barging into his camp to call him an idiot. At the time, he’d found it infuriating, but now, Iohannes thought it was endearing.
He found a lot of things about Meredydd endearing.
“Where have you been?” she demanded. “I’ve had to deal with your moronic subordinates for months now. Even Bethan was starting to get annoyed with me.”
For all that Romans were taught about foreign ‘barbarians’, and especially foreign women, Iohannes had a great deal of respect for Queen Bethan. Not only did she rule one of the most peaceful Celtic tribes in Britania, she had negotiated a fair trade agreement with the local Roman governor- and on top of that, she dealt with Meredydd.
Iohannes set his helmet on the desk and glanced over the neatly-rolled parchments his lieutenant had left for him. “I had to go back to Rome,” he said, even though he had told her all of this before he’d left. “To report on my cohort’s progress in Britania.”
“Technically, this isn’t Britania,” said Meredydd. “This is Cymru. It’s just that you Romans are too stupid to tell the difference.”
“Gee, thanks,” Iohannes drawled, sorting through the parchments.
“No, I-” Meredydd began, then she sat up, suddenly. “Wait, why did you have to go to Rome? You send them messages with, well, military precision. And they write back. So what could they actually need to see you for?”
Iohannes kept his eyes on his desk. “The emperor feels his soldiers are spread too far,” he said. He probably shouldn’t have been telling her this, but it was Meredydd. “The outermost forces are being recalled. Cohorts in Hispania, Africa… Cymru.”
“You’re leaving!?” Meredydd gasped, surging to her feet.
“As I recall, you didn’t want us here in the first place,” said Iohannes.
“That was you collectively,” said Meredydd. “You personally…”
“Yeah?” he asked.
“Well, yes,” she said, pacing the empty space between his desk and the hearth. “Despite your hair, and your apparent inability to stand up straight when confronted by an entranceway, you are reasonably intelligent. There may even have been a few things that Bethan and I couldn’t have been able to accomplish quite as well without your help.”
“Happy to be of service,” said Iohannes. He began looking for a blank sheet of parchment.
In theory, Roman army camps could be disassembled and moved at a moment’s notice, but his camp had been in the same location for three years now, and he had fewer men than when they’d set it up. There was a lot they could leave behind, but a lot they would have to take with them. With fewer men, they’d have to set up smaller camps along the way, and they had no auxilia to support them. Plus, they’d need boats to reach Gaul, before they even started thinking about camps and marching.
Iohannes looked up, intending to ask Meredydd if there were any merchants leaving Britania who would trade passage for a bit of security duty, but instead he blurted, “I don’t want to go.”
“Then stay,” she said.
He snorted- if only it was that simple. “Meredydd-”
She moved around the desk to stand beside him, the fabric of her skirt brushing his bare knees. “Stay, Iohannes,” she said, softly.
“Meredydd…”
“I thought I’d resigned myself to a marriage of alliance,” she said. “Even though the men in the other clans are complete and utter morons. Bethan has been able to work out other agreements, and I’ve, er, persuaded a few would-be suitors.”
One corner of her mouth quirked into a smile and Iohannes couldn’t help smiling back- he’d been on the receiving end of Meredydd’s ‘persuasions’, which had more in common with tidal waves than conversations.
“And to be honest,” she continued, “I was hoping never to marry at all. I… I just wouldn’t make a very good wife. I talk too much and I don’t listen well. A husband would expect me to stop doing my natural study experiments, so that I could keep house and make babies. But I…” Meredydd took a deep breath, fingers twisted into her skirt. “I think I might like that. Babies. If their father was you.”
Iohannes’s brain struggled to keep up, but he was still a few sentences behind. “I would never-” he began, and Meredydd took a step back, expression clouding. Iohannes caught her hands, tugging gently when she resisted. “I would never stop you from doing your experiments,” he said. “I would never make you do anything you didn’t want to.”
“What about something I do want?” Meredydd asked, stepping closer again.
He stood, bringing both of her hands, still in both of his, to his heart. “Name it.”
“Kiss me?” Meredydd tried to make it a command, but it came out as a question- and one that Iohannes was happy to answer. She kissed him back just as fiercely, and flushed a flattering pink when they broke for air.
“So,” said Iohannes, settling his hands comfortably on her hips. “How many babies are we talking about here?”
“About a dozen, if you keep kissing me like that,” said Meredydd.
And, really, he had no other choice after that but to lean in and kiss her again.
Who’s Who
John Sheppard as Iohannes, Roman centurian
Rodney McKay as Meredydd, celtic (Welsh) princess
Elizabeth Weir as Bethan, Meredydd’s sister, celtic (Welsh) queen (this could also be Teyla, since her character never appears in the story)
Aidan Ford (technically) as Iohannes’s unnamed second-in-command (this could also be Lorne, but he was in the last one)
Chapter Three
Current Mood:
apathetic