The Prince/When on Norimia...

[mashimero]

Artist: antares_dw
Title: The Prince
Medium: Manip
Pairing(s): John/Rodney
Notes: Beta: Many thanks to Sinaida.

Author: lou
Title: When On Norimia...
Wordcount: ~17,000
Rating: R
Pairing(s): Established John/Rodney(alternate universe, where Atlantis was cut off from Earth)
Summary: Teyla is being held against her will on Norimia and John's determined to bring her home. If it means he has to enter the Elgo Fest as her Champion to make it happen - with the help of Ronon, Rodney and a Norimian named Yemir now part of the Atlantis guard - so be it.
Notes: This fic exists solely because of the inspiring art by antares04a, with whom I had a great time discussing what this story could be. Once it was done, I was extremely lucky to have dear friends help me make it better, so big thank yous to davincis_girl, hitlikehammers and bachlava. Also, much thanks to the mods at sgareversebang who made it possible in the first place (and for their infinite patience).

When On Norimia...

Walking back towards the control tower - it's too gorgeous of a day to take the transporters - John smells the delicious aroma of trenick roasting. As he turns the corner, he sees that the Yusty are having a cookout, their little all-blond kids running around while the adults sit in small groups. There are a couple of Oriznans, too, mingling and making the best of contrast, their blue-black skin gleaming in the sun. It makes John smile to hear them all laughing. Both groups are relatively new refugees on Atlantis.

"Commander Sheppard!" the leader of the Yusty calls up when he's spotted. "Come, come eat with us!'

Ah, hell, he has time for a bite. He joins them, smiles all around and tries not to flinch too hard at the myriad of little touches the Yusty do out of habit. 

"Hey guys," John says. "It smells great!"

He's immediately given a kebab of trenick, and it's done just right. Maybe he should bring some back to Rodney: he'd love it. John doesn't remember the name of the woman who's the spokesperson for the Oriznans - Orima? Orita? maybe Otinia - but she's coming over and already doing their complicated little bowing rituals.

"Good day, Commander Sheppard," she says. "Once again, I want to express my gratitude upon your generosity in allowing my people to come to your beautiful city."

"Oh, well, it's our pleasure, especially since the Oriznans are valued trading partners," John says smoothly, thinking that Teyla would be proud of him. He straightens up and gestures at his new shirt and pants, made of something that's closer to hemp than cotton. "I’ve been wanting new uniforms for my men and I for a while now. They're perfect."

Orita, he's pretty sure that's her name, smiles widely.

"Thank you, Commander. We are happy the clothes are to your satisfaction. We are working on a second set for everyone, and we should have them dyed black as of your specification by the end of next week."

"Cool," John says. Seven years since they crossed the one way wormhole from Earth to Atlantis, and basically no Earth clothing remains, save for stuff better worn in downtime. John feels that dressing all of his soldiers alike helps to retain cohesion and assimilate the new Pegasus recruits, and the Oriznans have designed a uniform that fits perfectly and makes them stand up a little straighter, which is great. Speaking of, he has a meeting with Bates that he needs to go to soon. 

"Have a good day," John says, after making his goodbyes, then giggles at? the plate with a dozen juicy trenick kebabs he's been given by a very insisting Yusty cook. "And thanks for the food!" 


He whistles going back to the control tower, and goes straight for the mess hall since it's almost noon. As expected, Rodney's already there, sitting with several minions who are drinking his every word. John spots a couple of young women from the Hoff University who are doing an internship, and are trying their best to impress, if not charm, the famous Dr. Rodney McKay. 


Mine is John's instinctive reaction. He's been with Rodney for almost six years now, though they made it public only four years ago. On the third anniversary of their arrival on Atlantis, with no contact with Earth whatsoever in that time, the command staff had sat down. Together, they'd made some needed changes to adapt how things would be done from then on. It was not secession from Earth, but a declaration of independence none the less. One of the first rules to go had been "Don't Ask, Don't Tell", and without much of a reaction from Atlantis as a whole, John and Rodney had moved in together that very night. So yeah. Maybe it had not been such a secret after all. 

John goes to Rodney's table and drags a chair for himself, puts the plate with kebabs in the middle of the table which shuts Rodney right up, and sits down, flashing his most charming smile at the girls. Bates can wait a little.

"Rodney, ladies," John drawls, and he's satisfied when he's the new center of attention, complete with flirtatious smiles. Diversion: it works almost every time. Rodney doesn't even say thank you, and after a pleased little 'oh, great!' is already eating his trenick.

"Good day, Commander Sheppard," the pretty blonde - and therefore the most potent threat - says while making eyes at him. 

"Lana," John says amiably.

Rodney grunts around his food, and when John looks over he's rolling his eyes. He hates the flirting, even if he should know John would never cheat on him. When Lana goes to take a kebab, Rodney almost growls and she withdraws her hand, fast.

"Be nice, Rodney," John says. "There's plenty."

"Plenty of what?" 

It's Ronon, and John grins at he takes two kebabs while Rodney just squeaks in outrage, but doesn't dare say a word. The big guy is one of the first refugees they'd taken on Atlantis, once he'd had the operation to take his Wraith tracker out. He had proven to be a valuable addition to the security force, and John had personally taken him under his wing and in his team once he'd put Ford at the head of SGA-6. He's thinking of putting Ronon in charge of his own team too, real soon.

"Oh, great, now Conan will eat them all," Rodney complains.

"The Yusty have plenty more," John tells Ronon. "They're having a barbecue near the South Tower."

"Okay," Ronon says, but still steals a third kebab just to make Rodney splutter, leaving them after a big grin.

"So, how's the internship going?" John asks the girls.

He realizes it's a bad move when their collective focus goes back to Rodney, and they start trying to kiss ass, telling all about how wonderful it is and that they are learning so much. Rodney's practically beaming. John gives them four days, and Rodney will start expecting them to pull their weight, with associated insults. John will be curious to see if the beatific expressions will remain, then. Annoyed, he gets up.

"I gotta go, meeting," John says, putting his hand on Rodney's shoulder for a second. "See you later."

The girls look disappointed, there's at least that, but Rodney touches his arm. 


"Hey," Rodney says, and when John looks down at him, curious, Rodney grabs John's shirt in the middle of his chest and pulls him down into a deep and dirty kiss. Rodney fists his other hand tight in John's jaw-length hair and it makes him grin. He's not the only possessive person in this relationship. It rarely leads to PDA of this magnitude, but he's got nothing against it from time to time. There are a couple of catcalls from the next table over, too. When Rodney finally releases him, John gives him another affectionate peck before straightening up. Rodney looks happy enough, with his proprietary smile firmly in place.


"Okay, and have a nice day too," John drawls, before smirking at the girls who look a bit stricken (and in one case turned on). "Don't work too late, I have plans," he adds suggestively, loving how he can still make Rodney turn pink whenever he wants.

"Sir? Could you keep the TMI on the down low, please?" one of the Marines from the other table says, making a mock-horror face. John knows he's one who wolf-whistled earlier; he's a good kid.

John winks at him and saunters out of the mess.


***


From then on, John's in a really good mood. He finally makes it to the meeting with Bates, to plan how they'll recruit some young men and women interested to join the forces on Atlantis.


"We have a list of thirty potential recruits, Sir," Bates says, passing a tablet. Bates was probably the last person who switched from Major to Commander, something John never asked for but that started informally several years ago with Ford. Bates prefers calling him Sir, and John's fine with that.

John scans the people who made each endorsement, and is pleased that ten names are from men and women who already live on Atlantis and feel invested enough to become active participants for security and defense. Of the rest, John crosses off two names: he doesn't quite trust the Ulthas, yet. From under his fringe, John sees that Bates approves. He's always been the most suspicious of them all, though he's getting better over the years.

"What do you think?" John asks. 

"Wise decision, Sir," Bates says. 

"The Wraith have never found Atlantis. I don't plan on bringing people here who I'm not sure of and change that,'" John says. 

They'd been lucky that way, though there was always someone checking the long range sensors, just in case.

"I've made sure that the boot camp is set up correctly on UTE-786," Bates says. 

"Okay, fine," John says. "I'll send Ronon to kick their asses a bit at hand to hand in the third week, and..."


He's interrupted by Ford, on his radio. 

"Commander Sheppard, come in."

It's unexpected, since he's supposed to be off world with Teyla. John frowns before answering, making a little gesture to excuses himself to Bates, who nods.

"Ford? Is there a problem?" John asks.

"Yes, Sir, something went wrong on GYW-462, Sir," Ford says and John is immediately worried. Shit.

"Is everyone okay?" John says, already up and going towards the control room.

"No one's hurt, but they took Teyla, Sir, and they didn't let her come back," Ford says, visibly agitated and John curses. Damn it, there's always someone trying to grab one of his people. 

John opens his comm to the limited frequency.

"Crisis staff meeting in Dr. Weir's office in 10, Sheppard out."

***


"And they won't let her go," John says. 


"No, Sir," Ford says, and he's been fidgeting since the meeting started. "If I had known where to find her, I would have tried something, but the place is huge."

"It was best to come back to Atlantis, Aiden," Elizabeth says. "There is no way to negotiate her release?"

"I don't know," Ford said, looking frustrated. "They said that we could prove ourselves as the Norimian custom asks, and then she'd make her choice."

"But that's exactly what I don't understand," Rodney says. "So you tell us that this world is led by a very limited number of women, their Queens, right?"

"Yes, the negotiations were with the Chief Advisor. But then, later, we met Queen Ylon who seemed to take an instant liking to Miss Emmagan."

"Enough that she had her kidnapped?" Rodney's voice gets higher with the agitation. "Why would a nation led by women kidnap other women?"


"The Queens hold the power, and they decide among themselves who will be the Queens to be nominated next, if one dies or resigns. Very rarely, they consider someone from another world, and Teyla was deemed worthy," Elizabeth explains sounding fascinated.


"But I am sure she refused! Why keep her against her will?" Rodney asks.

"I imagine she did refuse, but the Queens will hold her for half a year, so they can make their arguments and try and convince her. There is no mistreatment, according to them, but I am not sure they can be trusted. After that period, if she is still unconvinced, she can leave," Elizabeth says.

"A golden prison, then, with bonus brainwashing," Rodney says with scorn. "But we don't want to wait half a year!"

"Then that's when the Elgo Fest comes in handy," Ford says.

"What's the Elgo Fest?" John asks.



"Every four months or so, or if needed, there's the Elgo Fest, where men try to prove their worth to the Queens who wish for a companion. If she chooses so, the Queen can then accept the winner as her suitor. If she's not happy with who won, it goes to the next tournament, though the winner gets much honor and a good position at court. There are no forced unions. In the case of someone who's a Candidate, like Teyla, if someone from her world manages to win the competition, he's proving his people's worth to the Norimians. If the Candidate agrees to leave with the winner, she is free to go," Elizabeth says.



"I can't believe this," Rodney's saying. 

"I say we go over there, find her, and bring her back," John adds.

"It's very hard to get any information, Commander," Ford says. "But I think she was moved from the city near the gate to an unknown location."



"Then we go in with a jumper and look for her subcutaneous transmitter," John argues.

"I'm sorry to say that nothing with electronics works on that world, Sir, too much magnetic interference," Ford says. "The transmitter must not even be working properly."


"They have no technology? At all?" Rodney says, appalled. 

"I'd put the level of civilization to the middle ages, approximately," Ford says. "They have horses, oh and sort of steam engines, nothing much more evolved than that. It's a tough world; they shoot first and ask questions later."



John sees Rodney shudder. If the situation was not this serious, it would be almost funny

"We need more information," John says. The whole thing makes him twitchy. "I'll go on the planet, try to convince them to give her back. If that's doesn't work, it's still an occasion to do some recon."

"I want to go too," Rodney says. "Maybe I can make something work to track the signal, but I won't know if I can't do tests over there."

"We'll bring Ronon," John says. He needs someone who can protect Rodney, not that he'll say that out loud. And with a planet of people like that, better go with backup.

"It's worth trying," Elizabeth says. "We’ll need to have a way to stay in contact, in case something comes up."


"We'll check at the gate every 12 hours. Ford, you're in charge in the meanwhile. We'll leave in two hours," John says.


"Two hours? God, okay, I need to go see Zelenka and Grodin right now," Rodney says, gathering his stuff.

"Don't forget to go eat something," John says. "And not just the junk you keep in the lab."

The sorta-powerbars, Pegasus-Style, the cooks managed to make with cereals, nuts and honey are good, but Rodney has the bad habit to overlook proper meals.

"Yes, dear," Rodney says, already out the door.

John better go too. He has tons to do before they leave.

***

"We understand, Commander Sheppard, but it's impossible."

The Advisor is tall and thin, standing straight behind his desk, and he doesn't seem duplicitous per say, though he's unmovable in his beliefs.


"Nothing is impossible, Advisor," John says. "We could be allies against the Wraith, trading partners, but if you hold one of my people against her will..."

"The Wraiths are a plague that do not touch our world, thank the Goddess," the Advisor says.

If the jumpers can't come over, most probably the darts can't, either. It would explain how the planet had increased so much in population: there are several hundred thousands of people living on Norimia, and that's a lot for the Pegasus Galaxy.

"Maybe not with their ships, but they could walk through the Ring of the Ancestors," John tries.

It's as if the Advisor sits a little straighter, his jaw clenching.

"Then we fight. The Norimians are not cowards."

"I never said you were," John says, smiling a bit in apology. It's time for some creative thinking, he reckons. "Teyla is already the Queen of her people, Advisor. You cannot just take her away."

That does make the Advisor look pensive, but only for a second.

"If you are so sure that she would go back with your people, prove your worth," he says.

"By entering the Elgo Fest?" John asks.

"Yes. That is our custom, and the way things are done on Norimia. I will now request you leave, Commander, as we have nothing more to say."


The Advisor gestures and John clenches his teeth. He knows when he's dismissed and right now he has absolutely no leverage to get more information. John bids his goodbyes and leaves the Advisor's office, and is then escorted through the palace to the entrance, where he's given back his weapon. When John gets out, he exits right into the myriads of colors of the souk in the plaza just before it. The contrast from calm and cool to the outside is almost dizzying. 


The climate around the gate on Norimia is a lot like Afghanistan, hot as hell in the day, the atmosphere saturated with sun and dirt. The town has a bit of greenery, peeking over the closed wall of the palaces' gardens, but the communal areas are mostly bare, packed dirt everywhere. John walks to the small inn where he left Ronon and Rodney. As he enters their room, they both look at him, hopeful, and the confidence they have in him makes it sting a bit when John has to shake his head no. 


"We won't get anything useful at the palace," John says. 

"A bust, huh?" Rodney says, and he knows to not push John too much when things go south like this. It's a proven fact that even Rodney McKay can learn to read moods and act accordingly. "Well, we expected that. What now?"

John sighs.

"I don't know. We could ask around a bit," he says.

"They won't talk," Ronon says. "Not to strangers. I tried."

"But no matter what we do, we are strangers!" Rodney says. He then shoves a couple of devices that were laying in a half circle around him back in his pack. "While you were trying the elusive diplomatic approach, I did some tests and I'm sorry to say this shithole is crap for tracking subcutaneous transmitters. Nothing works here, not even life signs detectors. It if wasn't so annoying, it would be almost interesting."

So that's a dead end, too. John starts pacing the four steps it takes to cross the room and back.

"I'm sure there's a way to get some info," he grumbles.

"Yemir. He's from Norimia, right?" Ronon asks.

John stops, turns to Ronon and blinks at him while he pictures the Yemir in question: short, stocky, one tough son of a bitch but with a perpetual smile and who's fiercely loyal to the chain of command, especially Elizabeth. One of the best recruits they had on Atlantis in the first wave, three years ago.

"I... I think so, yes," John says. "You'd think he'd help?"

Ronon’s eyebrows rise.

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure. He practically worships Teyla," Ronon says.

True, if John stops to think about it, Yemir has always been more than polite to Teyla, always ready to be of service, and looked at her with some sort of a dazed expression. For three years, now. Not that he's the only one with a hopeless crush. 

"Yemir? Do I know him?" Rodney says, frowning. "Can he be trusted?"

"He's a good guy," Ronon says, and that's a raging endorsement coming from him. John takes a deep breath: there's no need to lose any time here, and he'd prefer being productive.

"Okay, then, let's go talk to Yemir," John says. 

***


"Miss Teyla? A Candidate?" Yemir says, before breaking into a big smile. "Of course! Oh, she will be a wonderful Queen!"


It almost sends Rodney in a spluttering mess.

"What? Of course not! She won't accept, you..." Rodney starts.

"Rodney!" John barks, sharp enough that Rodney's mouth clicks shut and he looks at him with a hurt look. Trying his best to smile, John turns towards Yemir, whose own smile has dimmed a lot. 

"Look, Yemir, I understand how you'd think that, but I'm really not sure that Teyla wants to stay on Norimia as a Queen. You know how important her duties to the Athosians and Atlantis are to her," John says.

Yemir stops glaring at Rodney and turns pensive, and then nods at John.

"That's true, Commander. But she would be a wonderful Queen. The Norimians would love her and prosper, no doubt," he muses.

"I don't doubt that one second," John says. "But I'd like to speak to her, and if she wants, take her back to Atlantis. Do you think you could help us with that? I'm sure Teyla would be grateful."

"The locations of the Candidates are one of the best kept secrets on Norimia," Yemir says. "But we could try, yes."

"Thanks. I really appreciate your help," John says. He smiles and touches Yemir on a shoulder, and it's like the guy soaks up the approval, and stands a little straighter. 

"I will do my best to assist, Commander."

"Thank you, I am sure you will," John says.

****



"Oh, please, is this really necessary?" 

It's not surprising that Rodney protests over getting an outfit to better blend in on Norimia. John fiddles to adjust what is a cross between a vest and a light - sleeveless - armor and he feels a bit like a fool himself, to be honest. It's mostly black leather with some decorations in plate, silver and gold, paired with black leather pants and boots. A length of red fabric is draped around his hips, held with more leather belts. In the bag the merchant gave him there are still some leather wrist bands and arm cuffs, but John decides he has enough for now. 

John stuffs his Atlantis clothes in the bag and decides to go see what Rodney looks like, bracing himself not to laugh if he's clad in leather too. He reaches Ronon, first, who of course looks totally at ease in gear that looks a lot like John's, although it's embossed red leather with tribal designs. The result is pretty fierce and if an eyebrow lifts with amusement at John, Ronon doesn't start laughing, which is good.

"Not bad, Sheppard," Ronon says.

"Yeah. Though I feel like an extra from Xena," John says.

Rodney has his back to him, and no, what Yemir and the merchant chose for him is no armor. It's a long coat reaching his calves and with long sleeves, made of a silky grey fabric with light copper embroidery and small stones. Rodney swivels when he hears John's voice and his eyes almost bulge out of his head. 

"Okay, so this is disturbingly hot," he says, which makes John grin. Rodney's never really quite mastered the inside voice versus the outside voice.

John looks him up and down, taking it all in: there's some leather pants and high riding boots for Rodney too. The pants are laced in the front, and isn't that interesting. Under the tunic, Rodney's wearing a puffy greenish shirt and a belt with an enormous golden buckle. He looks fantastic. John can't help himself: he walks right up to Rodney and touches the clothes lightly; they are as soft as they look. 

"I kind of dig your looks, too," he says, and a smile twitches at Rodney's mouth.

"Oh, they look great, but did you miss the fact that we're going to walk around in excruciating heat? I'll be drenched in sweat in a minute, and most probably suffer from a heatstroke the next. At least you've, huh, got some ventilation," Rodney says, tracing a finger along the edge of the armor on John's chest, the cut made to give full mobility to the arms. The touch makes John shiver and he's definitely getting into this dressing up thing when someone coughs. 

It's Yemir, looking a bit embarrassed.

"Hum, Commander," he says, jerking his head to the merchant who's frowning, definitely not approving of two men making eyes at each other. "If the clothes are to your satisfaction, we could pay and go search for a meal?"

John steps back, though he hates it on principle. He's hidden what he was for years, and he doesn't like being told how to act anymore. If he wants to ogle Rodney, he should be able to. Rodney's mouth is pinched and unhappy, too, but for once he stays quiet. Yemir did warn them that Norimia was very traditional, in a non gay-friendly way, so it's not like it's a surprise. But when in Rome, do like the Romans and John doesn't want to attract unwanted attention.

"Okay, fine, let's go. Ronon, pay the nice man, we're taking it all," John says, before stuffing Rodney's clothes and Ronon's shirt in his bag.

Food, and then they'll try to get some hints on where to find Teyla.

***


There's only one way to sum up their quest for information: it's a resounding failure. John tries to charm, Rodney annoys people to death, Ronon looms and Yemir tries his best to play on old friendships, but no one will say a word. The Candidates location is a state secret and no one wants to talk. Each and every time, though, people suggest they enter the Elgo Fest and prove their worth. If the Candidate is meant to go back to her previous world before the six months is done, they just have to make it happen.

Frankly, frustrated by things going around and around, John is beginning to think it wouldn't be such a bad idea. 

"When is the next Elgo Fest?" John asks, licking sweetness from his fingers, but pushing the second of his honeyed pastries towards Rodney, who grabs it immediately with a contented sound.

"In fifteen days," Yemir says, and he's looking at John expectantly. When John looks to his right, Ronon is observing him too. Rodney stops making orgasmic noises around his dessert and pauses, looking at the three of them in turn.

"What? You're not suggesting we should enter the Elgo Fest, right?" Rodney says and John can't quite look at him. "Oh my god, you're thinking about it."

"Of course I'm thinking about it!" John says, raising his voice a bit. When the people eating at the tables around start looking their way, he forces himself to lower the tone. "If we haven't found anything by then, it would be a way to get Teyla back."

"But we don't even know what the Elgo Fest is!" Rodney says intently, before looking at Yemir. "It's most probably extremely dangerous, right?"

Yemir sort of shrugs.

"The goal is to find warriors worthy of the Queens or Candidates," he says.


After a pause of a couple of seconds, Rodney makes a little ‘go on’ motion.


"Care to elaborate?"

"There are three competitions. First is the shrer race," Yemir says. "Three laps around the course and the first sixty can go to the second competition."

"Shrer?" John asks.

Ronon doesn't look too pleased, frowning. 


"What looks like your horses," he elaborates and Yemir nods. John has seen several, but not from up close yet. Beautiful beasts.


"Yes, just like horses from the Earth movies. After that there is the... crossbow? Yes, crossbow event. It takes the number down to eighteen."

"Okay, that's doable," John says. He'd prefer guns, but marksmanship is marksmanship, and he's always had a good eye. "What then?"

"Each Queen or Candidate interested in a companion steps forward, and the finalists choose whom they want to pay allegiance to."

"Oh, that's not too bad, I had this fee--" Rodney starts to say but Yemir interrupts him.

"If there's more than one finalist for a Queen or Candidate, there's a sacred last man standing ritual. A scimitar fight," Yemir says.

He should be used to it by now, but the complete opposite reaction of Rodney and Ronon would be hilarious if the whole thing wasn't so serious. While Ronon all but nods approvingly, Rodney's eyes go big and he starts to rant.

"Of course, a fight! With swords! What was I thinking, that for once it could be with minimal violence!" Rodney says, agitated and hands flying everywhere. He looks at John, eyes a little wild. "You're not considering this for real, are you?"

"Well..." John says, because he is considering it, even if it makes Rodney look betrayed. "The fight, is it to death?" He needs to know everything to take a decision.

"Death is not required," Yemir says. "But it's more spectacular and it happens often."

"What is this?" Rodney says, still vibrating with outrage. "Gladiator planet? They kill for artistic license?"

"Rodney," John says, putting a hand on his thigh to try to calm him down. "Want it or not, this is the way they roll."

Rodney throws him a glare.

"That doesn't mean I have to like it," he says.

"True. Look, we'll ask around tomorrow, and if we don't have anything then..." John says.

"Yeah, yeah," Rodney says, getting up and leaving in a huff.

John gives Yemir and Ronon a tight smile. He needs to try and calm Rodney down. By the time he gets in their room, in the back of the little inn, Rodney's at the window, looking out. John closes the door softly and goes to him, circling his arms around Rodney's waist and resting his forehead on his wide shoulder. He doesn't say anything, though, and after a minute Rodney relaxes a tiny bit.

"You're going to end up hurt or killed," Rodney says and John hugs him a little closer.  

"Maybe," John says. "Or I'll dazzle them all and win."

Rodney snorts.

"Or that," Rodney says, turning in his arms and cupping one of John's cheek. In the moonlight, Rodney's eyes are almost eerie, so pale. "It's not that you're not good. You're pretty awesome, but..."

John silences him with a finger on his lips. 

"It's Teyla, Rodney," he whispers.


Rodney's face falls and he sighs.

"I know. I know."

***

Once it's clear that they're doing this, it's like Rodney wants to take charge of it all. He goes to the palace to get a copy of the rules on a big rolled parchment that he forces Yemir to read, over and over again until he probably knows it by heart. The first debate they have is who is going to enter.


"The rules say that the Candidate's world has to enter their Champion, as in one person only which is ridiculous and totally unfair," Rodney says. 


"Then the one who has the better chances to win has to sign up," John replies.


Raising his eyebrows, Rodney looks at him sardonically.

"The fight at the end? Ronon all the way," Rodney says and well, there's no arguing with that. "But apart from that? Who the hell knows? Yemir grew up with shrers, and I'd say John's the best shot, even with a crossbow."


Said like that, it sounds like a stalemate. But there's something John doesn't share much, and it's his past. In this case, it's relevant.

"I grew up with horses, too," John admits.

Surprised, Rodney looks at him sharply.


"Really? Oh. I can imagine that pretty well, to be honest," he says.

Ronon, always practical, shrugs.

"We get a good shrer and find out who's the best rider," he says.

"I think I might know someone who would have a good one," Yemir says, and then smiles. "And the best thing is that he owes me a favor."

****

While Yemir is bargaining with the owner, John goes near the fence and checks out those infamous shrers. They are almost the same as regular horses, though their heads are a little slimmer and the eyes a bit bigger. It's the color of those eyes, either green or yellow, that drive the point home that this is Pegasus, therefore things are definitely unique. 

The mare they're trying to borrow is a chestnut Arabian, or close enough, with fine but strong legs, who's pacing in the back of the paddock, ears twitching. She's saddled already, though not wearing any bridle; John whistles softly and she looks his way, intrigued. He's brought several mini carrots, well blue carrots, and he offers one with a slow and careful movement. Normally a horse either comes forward immediately to eat a treat or is not interested, but he’s being observed, here. The shrer continues to pace, but comes closer with each pass, before she stops, almost vibrating a foot away, sniffing. It's been a while since he's sat a mount, but she's gorgeous and John misses it, sometimes. It was the only good part of growing up in the Sheppard household. The shrer tentatively takes the final step, nostrils flaring, and delicately takes the carrot from his hand, immediately stepping back to much on it. John smiles.

"Are you shy, sweetheart?" he croons. He takes out another small carrot, and this time she comes easily, even staying for John to caress her head. After the third she playfully butts his shoulder as he strokes the glossy coat covering her withers. "Yeah, such a good girl."


"Hmm. And we can add horses to the list of species you can wrap around your little finger," Rodney says, not that far behind John.


"Isn't she beautiful?" John asks, smiling at him.

"Oh, definitely the prettiest horse with green eyes I've ever seen," Rodney says sarcastically, but he's smiling a bit, too. 

"Don't listen to him, he's jealous," John says, stroking the shrer's velveteen nose. 

Yemir and Ronon come back with Malo, the owner, and the shrer keeps rubbing against John. Malo laughs.

"Making friends already?" he asks. "Yemir convinced me that your Miss Emmagan deserves that her Champion ride my Mira in place of my son, who broke a leg. Is that you, Commander?"

John grins.

"Thank you, we're grateful. We're gonna take turns and check out who'll be the Champion," John says, before stepping back. He'd prefer going last. He gestures to Yemir. "Why don't you take a few laps?"

With a nod, Yemir hops over the fence and Mira eyes him, head pulling up and away, ears twitching back. Malo goes in too, which calms her, getting her to accept the bit, then sipping the bridle in place, and fastening it. Not waiting to let her get used to the idea, Yemir climbs on, easy as breathing. Mira sidesteps a little, rolling her eyes, but easily calms down when Yemir taps her back.  He then takes her for a lap, starting kind of easy but he pushes her in no time. Malo opens the fence so Yemir can stir Mira out of the paddock, where he rides her to a rock formation several hundred feet away and back at a gallop. Yemir is taking a risk, pushing an unknown horse that fast, but maybe that’s how they do it on Norimia. Mira's even more beautiful in movement, and Yemir is definitely a good rider. He can't help it, John feels a tinge if disappointment. When he stops, Yemir's grinning, visibly proud and John tries to offer his best smile.

"That was great," he says, before looking at Ronon. "Your turn."

Ronon gets in the paddock as Yemir gets down from Mira's back, but he's unnaturally tense, enough that even Rodney notices.

"Is he... is he scared of the horse?" Rodney whispers. 

The care that Rodney takes to say it to John only makes him grin, because it would be pretty stupid to have Ronon overhear something like this and expect to live through the day. Rodney's lots of things, but he's not stupid. It seems that he might be right, though, because there's definite tension between Ronon and Mira. He gets on, because we're talking about Ronon here, but after a couple of laps he comes back to the fence and dismounts.

"Not for me," Ronon grunts, looking straight ahead, obviously frustrated if not ashamed. 

John taps his arm.

"S'okay," he says and normally he'd try to comfort him a bit more but his eyes are on Mira already. She doesn't look tired, just energized and John takes the bridle from Malo. John's got a couple of carrots left, so he gives her one and gets a friendly head bump in return.

"Hey there," John says softly. "What do you say, wanna try running around with me?"

Mira bumps him again and John climbs hoists himself up into the saddle. He's mounted stallions several hands higher than her, and way more skittish, but it's been a long time.

"Shush, we're going, we're going," John says as Mira dances a little bit, and he strokes her neck soothingly. It's more excitement to move than any wish to throw him off. "We're starting by a walk though, c'mon."

After a couple of steps where John doesn't let her lead, she starts listening more, so he ups the tempo. He pushes her into a trot, and after a couple of laps he easily leads her into a canter. She's extremely responsive and John can feel his blood pumping harder. They find a rhythm pretty easily and only when he's satisfied does John bring her to the door, which Malo opens for them. John stops Mira completely, facing towards the same rock formation, and she wants to go, badly. When he gives her her head, she doesn't disappoint and they eat the ground with the incredible feeling that comes with it. John waits until the very last second to make her turn and comes back, up in his stirrups but crouched on Mira as if he can help her push harder. And she gallops, boy she does it well and does it fast, and when John makes her stop just by his friends, he can't help the laugh that bubbles up. That was so very awesome. Mira dances under him, though John rapidly takes control back, patting her neck with affection.

"Oh yeah baby," he croons, before jumping down - he might be showing off a bit - and handing the reins to Malo. He gives Mira his last carrot, telling her how good she was.

Only then does he notice the looks of his friends’ faces. Ronon is smiling again, which is good, and Yemir is downright grinning. Rodney, on the other hand, is doing more of a wide eyed fish out of the water act, looking a bit awed. Malo whistles softly.

"That was impressive, Commander. My Mira has potential, but she needs a steady hand," Malo says.

That means he did better than Yemir? From the way they're acting, it seems so and John smiles so wide, he's afraid his face might split in two. Cool.

"She's great," John says.

"And she's yours for the Elgo Fest," Malo says, with a little bow. 

*** 


Once it's sure they have a shrer, John officially registers to the Elgo Fest. John had been a bit weary that Yemir would be miffed to miss the chance to prove his worth on his home turf, but it seems that seeing John being competent as a shrer rider was instead a source of pride. He'd always been a devoted soldier, but now he salutes a little more eagerly, visibly proud that his commander has a chance at the Elgo Fest. Well, that he has a chance is what Malo and Yemir say, while Rodney worries a lot.

"Okay, so you have your horse, now what?" Rodney says, almost jittery.

"Now he trains," Ronon says.

They have twelve days, and John has to be at his best. He's never participated in a horse race, at least nothing but galloping some horses around with Dave, a lifetime ago. But no, no races, especially not the kind where almost anything goes like the first leg of the Elgo Fest. There's also the crossbow and the hand to hand to think about, John's never fought with the curved blades used in ceremonials here. They all sit down around a piece of paper one day, trying to work out a schedule.

"I'm not sure that having John completely exhausted by the time the Elgo Fest starts is the best strategy," Rodney says, when he sees the first draft.

Sighing, John has to agree. He's feeling the ride on Mira all over today.

"But I do need some practice, on everything," John says. 

The first order of business is of course the shrer race. If John isn't one of the first sixty to cross the finish line, everything else is irrelevant. Yemir describes it as a very tough and brutal race and to help John prepare, they do some simulations of a start line mêlée, using some of Malo's horses and friends to crowd all around John, and then do their best to make him fall off. Soon, John learns to hang on tight and do some vicious moves of his own, especially after being spectacularly ejected from his saddle one time too many. 

John practices hand to hand with Ronon, though it's with stands in for the real blades, since they won't let them bring their own. Yemir does provide two sets of curved swords and daggers he says are pretty much it.

"The official ceremonial weapons are provided by the officials. It is better that way," Yemir says.

"Why?" John asks one night, doing his best to learn the particular ruthless backhanded slash Ronon insists he should master right the fuck now. 

Yemir shrugs.

"Less risk of poison," he says and it sends Rodney in a frenzy.

It could be worst, though, because Rodney has found something to do in the middle of everything. After making sure of what is allowed or not, he's modifying a crossbow so it has the most strength available for the width that can be entered at the Elgo Fest. As John's waiting for the new and improved crossbow to be ready, he's practicing his aim a couple of hours a day, too. 

At night, Rodney fusses over him and every little scrape and bruise, though he does give John the best toe-curling massages in the universe. All in all, it's a pretty fair trade. Except for how John hurts like he's about to die when he wakes up in the morning.

Getting old sucks.

***

Yemir had said the race was ruthless. He had said that it was hard. He had somehow failed to mention that over three hundred shrers would be at the start line.

Suddenly? Making it to the finish line below sixty seems exponentially more difficult. And the other guys? They want this as much as he does, or so it seems because every one of them looks deadly serious and focused. John has trouble holding Mira: she rolls her eyes and seems skittish to be in the company of so many horses at the same time. Rodney, Ronon and Yemir should be in the crowd at the periphery of the race track. It does an almost figure eight around a small oasis and a tiny village, half an hour or so from the city that holds the gate. Each lap is about a mile long and is quite wide but John has no idea how so many horses will fit without a spectacular disaster. 


There's a lot of grunting and shoving going on as they pack at the start line, even some flank nipping among horses. John wants to try to be on the first few positions, but he soon realizes that's where the most vicious competitors are, with spurs and spikes and shrers who try to bite. He doesn't want Mira to be hurt, so he backs up a bit, roughly in the middle of the pack. Mira is practically vibrating under him, coiled power wanting to unleash and John lies on her neck, shushing her so she stays calm. There's someone talking to the crowd, probably pronouncing the Elgo Fest open and it's followed by a big roar, as there are at least twenty thousand people here to watch. John thinks once again that it's a good thing the Norimian atmosphere prevents Dart attacks, because the Wraith would love a big crowd like this.


John's brought back to more immediate considerations when he hears the sound of a loud horn, two short blows, the equivalent of get ready. John sits up, gathers Mira's reins and when the long blow sounds, it's suddenly chaos. It's as if they went from still to gallop in one instant, all at the same time. There's some vicious shoving but John pushes right back, manages to stay on his saddle and plow forward. A couple of hundred yards later, there's a bit more distance between the participants and John yells at Mira to give it, kicking her flanks a little. She's off like a bullet, eating the packed dirt and John's job is to guide her with legs and reins where he thinks there's an opening. The problem is that the amount of dirt in the air, kicked up by hundreds of hooves, makes it hard to see where the hell they're going. Upon Yemir's suggestion, John has a scarf over his head and mouth, which at least prevents him from eating too much of it.

It's impossible for John to know how well he's doing, but he figures that as long as he manages to pass other shrers and not see many who are passing him, it must not be too bad. The noise level is insane, with the crowd yelling and the hooves thumping but John falls in some kind of zone, feeling one with Mira and moving with her. She trusts him and he's got all confidence in her and they're doing what has to be done. John negotiates the first curve with a bit of caution because he doesn't want to brush flank to flank with the others, but he curses when at least five riders manage to pass him. From then on, it's all or nothing and John just pushes Mira to the limit. 

One lap done, the second isn't easier, though it's less crowded which gives Mira an advantage due to her speed. At one point, John starts to pick horses ahead like goals, if he can just get past them he'll be okay. The grey one, and it's gone, then the black stallion with the guy in red. He's not even close to being first, and it does something to his competitive steak. Yes, he's proud and he'd like to win that thing. But it's not what matters right now, he has to stay on the saddle and go as fast as he can. 

The third lap brings out the desperate moves, or so it seems. Once again John is violently pushed when a rider comes neck to neck with him and Mira. He almost loses his balance, but luckily he stays upright, though he did lose a couple of spots in the process of getting everything under control. The guy in black who did that was obviously successful up front, because John has to suddenly swerve to the right not to trample a fallen competitor, who's rolling in the dirt. John negotiates the last curve at full speed, and it's the last stretch, finally. John's up on his stirrups like the first time he rode Mira, pushing with her, and it's like she gets a second breath, going a little faster even if she's now covered with sweat and breathing hard. 

John sees the finish line; it seems there are too many guys already there with their fist in the air. The crowd is cheering like mad and John can just pray that he's making it in time. He pushes and pushes and Mira runs like she's possessed until he crosses the finish line. Heart thumping, John slows Mira down, making her turn around and fall to a trot to cool her off, patting her neck. There are shers everywhere in the post-race chaos, beasts and riders circling and all but bumping into each other, tempers still high.

"You did great, baby," John croons at Mira, and he's so high on adrenaline, he's shaking with it. 


There's still a bit of cheering, but it's dying down, so John figures that the race is basically over. He walks Mira towards the finish line, now anxious to know if he's got a shot at the second round. Before he can grab one of the kids in light blue he knows are helping the officials, a shout makes him look up.

"Commander Sheppard! Commander Sheppard!"

It's Malo, for once forgetting himself and running towards him with a big smile on his face. Immediately something unclenches in John's gut, because he wouldn't look so happy if John had blown it. He smiles back, patting Mira's neck.

"Hey!" John says. "I made it, right?"

Malo laughs.

"You took the twenty third position, Commander, it's the best result anyone ever accomplished with one of my shrers," he says. "Very good for my business, I am in your debt."

"I'm honored to give back to you," John says by rote, just as Teyla drilled him.

John is honestly surprised by the result; it had seemed that so many had made it before him. Probably a lot of the people celebrating were from the riders’ entourages. Speaking of, John can see Ronon plowing his way through the crowd towards him, closely followed by Rodney and Yemir a step behind. John dismounts, hands the reins to Malo after one last pat of Mira’s sweaty coat, and he runs to them, soon taken in a crushing three way hug. There's laughing and Rodney may kiss his neck as he holds on close, Ronon shaking him and there's some heavy thumping on his shoulder that must be Yemir. 

"Oh my god, I almost had a heart attack from the little I saw," Rodney says, but he's grinning wide and John wishes he could kiss him, right then and there. 

"Well done, Sheppard," Ronon says, a welcome distraction and John laughs.

"It was awesome," John says, earning himself an indulgent Rodney eye-roll.

"If I am correct, this is the best position the Champion of a Candidate has gotten in an Elgo Fest for many, many years," Yemir adds, eyes shining with pride. "Miss Teyla has a true Champion, as it should be."

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves here," John says, but already he sees that many people are giving their little group curious stares. "There are two events left."

Malo steps forward, putting an arm across John's shoulder and smiling down at him. John doesn't dare shake him off, he owes him big, so he lets himself be steered towards big white tents on the right.

"Ah, let's not think about that now. Tonight, we celebrate!" Malo says, his loud laugh infectious.

John turns, and sees that Mira's led off by one of Malo's young aides, who's giving her a treat and he hopes he'll manage to say goodbye later. She was definitely the champion here.

***

The evening consists of a succession of people wanting to talk to John and give him all kind of food and drinks, though he's been able to avoid most of the booze. He's probably met all of the other fifty nine guys who made the cut, getting everything from open curiosity, suspicious looks and even resentful glares. A stranger qualifying so high attracts attention, especially since the story spread that John had never even mounted a shrer before he came to Norimia fifteen days ago. He knows it's better not to be in the spotlight too much, so John tries to downplay it the best he can, praising his mount and Malo, and saying that his world has horses, which are practically the same. He gets grilled within an inch of his life about horses, what is similar and different from shers, and more than once John has to apologize that he can’t trade some to Norimia.

The tents are also filled with music, a heady smell like incense, and dancers, from both sexes, with very sheer clothes and sensuous moves. John's so tired his eyes almost cross but it's like he's surrounded by movement and seduction attempts and he can't help but look, mesmerized. He's had to brush off wandering hands a couple of times now, smiling tightly and declining as politely as he can, changing spots when it gets too much, often caught by Malo who parades him around like a trophy. It's been going on for hours though, and a few times he felt Rodney's eyes on him, visibly frustrated at the amount of fawning and touching going on around John. Ronon's never far, either, his strong presence is keeping at bay several of the more belligerent competitors and quite possibly a couple of the people trying to seduce him, too. Yemir, John is pleased to see, does what was asked of him dutifully: making sure Rodney's safe at all times, a smiling shadow who seems to be chatting with friends but is still alert and ready.

John himself checks on Rodney often, incapable of stopping himself from doing so because it's supposed to be his job, and this time he's surprised that Rodney's not glaring his way. No, he seems in deep conversation with a gorgeous woman with ebony curly hair, sitting very close to him. She's listening intently, even though John's pretty sure that Rodney's either on a technobabble diatribe or exalting all the ways in which he's so important, the way his hands are flying around. She's leaning towards Rodney deliberately to show her assets, which are pretty good assets if someone swings that way, laying little touches to Rodney's arm and thighs that leave no doubt to her intentions. It seems that Rodney hasn't caught on to her interest yet, he can be that oblivious - though he does swing that way, or used to - and John can see how he tries so hard not to stare at the girl's breasts, not realizing that's exactly what she wants him to do.

If John wanted out of here to rest before, it's now an imperative. He takes Malo aside to tell him he's not that young and needs his rest for the following morning and manages to get away before getting introduced to yet another merchant. When he looks at Ronon and tilts his head towards Rodney, making the 'we're getting out of here' gesture, he gets a knowing smirk. Oh, John knows he's pretty transparent and that his tendency to always get between Rodney and women is more than expected, but he so doesn't care at the moment. He's always had problem sharing with others, and Rodney's not negotiable. John must look determined enough that he manages to cross the room with a minimum of stops for chitchat, grunting his thanks for the praise and moving on. Once near Rodney, the girl's definitely too close now, a bit more and she'd be on Rodney's lap. She looks up when he puts a hand on her shoulder.

"Sorry miss," John says with a smile that must not be that friendly because her eyes get a bit wide and her own smile loses a bit of brightness, "but we're going now. Right Rodney?"

"We are?" he says, blinking up at him, but then he's scrambling up from the cushion he was sitting on. "Oh, great, I thought we'd be here for hours still!"

It doesn't take an instant for Rodney to remember he was pissed at John not even half an hour ago, so he adds, "But are you sure that you're done flirting with everyone who breathes in here? I wouldn't want you to miss someone, make them feel left out."

"I don't know: are you done yourself? As I see it, you were two minutes - tops - from getting jumped here," John can't help but quip back. 

Rodney frowns, as if he doesn't understand what John's talking around, then looks down at the girl still sitting on her cushion and looking at them with curiosity. It's obvious when the situation dawns on Rodney and he looks so surprised that John's not even annoyed anymore and it makes him smirk. If John often thinks that he never sees those things coming, Rodney's got a blind spot a mile wide.

"Come on, Doctor Oblivious, we're done here, let's go," John says, taking Rodney's elbow and stirring him out.


Exiting the tent is like crossing the gate to a different planet, the desert air chilly at this time of the night. John knows Ronon and Yemir are following them from a bit of a distance, no need to look back. Thinking he did his part all night, John throws his arm over Rodney's shoulders, tugs him close and points up. The sky is magnificent.

"Neat, huh?" John says.

Rodney snorts.

"Neat indeed," he says, his arm going around John's waist. 

He doesn't say more and they're at their own tent now, ducking inside. There's a short exchange between Yemir and Ronon that John doesn't catch, but he knows they'll keep watch tonight, too many stories of Elgo Fests where the second morning found finalists dead or sick. A torch outside gives a bit of light, enough to get around, but they're mostly in shadows and as if they entered a private bubble, the sounds of the party still going on are but distant now.  There's a little barrel of water in the corner so they can clean up, and Rodney pulls John next to it before starting to undress him. His agile fingers make quick work of the buckles, laces and snaps until he can remove the whole leather armor; Rodney's got practice getting rid of it by now. There's none of the usual teasing and commentary that goes with it, though, Rodney focused and intent. He then continues on the belts and pants and John obligingly steps out of them, and out of his boots when nudged. 


The cold makes John shiver, but it's Rodney's soft caresses that give him goose bumps, careful and sure at the same time, as if he's trying to learn him by touch all over again. A finger on his mouth is clear: don't say anything. John's pretty sure it's not to spare an earful to whomever took first watch to guard them, but to keep this mood, this moment as it is. Rodney then takes a cloth, wets it, and starts to clean him up. It's efficient, as most things with Rodney seem to be, but sensual too, not an inch of his skin missed. Rodney squeezes his cloth sometimes to make water run down John's body, watching the rivulets make their way down on John as if it's the most fascinating thing he's never seen. In the semi-darkness of the tent, there are no true colors and the thin line of Rodney's irises - pupils blown to catch as much light as they can but most probably with lust, too - shine like silver.



A silent Rodney is always a bit unsettling, but John doesn't dare make a sound, if he wants it to be this way. Rodney pats him dry with a towel when he finishes and John takes it as his cue to move. He pushes the embroidered long-coat off Rodney's shoulders, not caring when it falls to the ground. The silky shirt, heavy belt and buckle and leather pants soon follow, leaving Rodney naked before him. It's tempting to lean in to touch as he wants and kiss him, but John grabs the cloth and mirrors Rodney's action from before, cleaning him up in the same way, and then patting him dry. 


They're both hard, have been practically from the start, but it was not important until now, not until Rodney finally caresses John's jaw, then slides a hand in his hair to pull him forward. The quiet pace is immediately thrown aside as John plasters himself right against Rodney, kissing him hard and he can't restrain a strangled moan, Rodney being all heat from his skin, his mouth, to the hard line of his dick against his hip. John steers Rodney to the cot where they fall without much grace, John on top, Rodney's fingers still tangled in his hair, tongue and body asking for everything John can give, everything he is. There's desperation in it all from them both, because who knows, it could be their last time with the last two competitions tomorrow, including a fight John might not walk out of at all.

John just hangs on, moves against Rodney who's groping and keening quietly, as if he's doing his best to keep everything in; on the other hand, he's matching John thrust for thrust. They never stop kissing, though it turns to mostly panting in each other's mouths at one point. When John comes it's sudden, ripping from his core in a rush, sending pleasure all over, enough to blind him for a second, then he flashes back to feel Rodney stilling against him too, riding his release in his turn. John's arms give and he crashes down, knowing Rodney's got him. His lips against the soft skin of Rodney's neck, John feels his speedy heartbeat against his lips, can feel the way he's gasping for air, still, as Rodney's arms close around John's back, holding him close. Frankly, John doesn't even want to move, ever. 

"I can't lose you," Rodney finally whispers. "I can't, John."

"Then I'll win," John says, burying closer.

***


John wakes early enough that it's still mostly dark outside, though there's the sound of people starting to go about their days. Rodney's sleeping spooned behind him, a heavy arm across John's waist, who relaxes back into him. He can indulge a little more. 


When everything spins so much in his head that he has to get up, John turns around and caresses Rodney's ear and jaw lightly until he twitches and finally opens his eyes. Upon seeing him, Rodney's first reaction is to smile, happy, then he frowns and loses it pretty fast. He just remembered what's going to happen today, that much is obvious. John kisses him, wishes the smile had stayed a bit longer.

"I'm going to go find something for us to eat," John says softly.

"'kay," Rodney rasps.

John gets up and puts one of the silk shirts he bought on top of his leather pants. He really hopes everything goes well today and that they can make it back to Atlantis as soon as possible, tonight even. With Teyla. Since Rodney seems to have chosen to hide behind the covers for the moment, John leaves the tent only to find Yemir sitting crossed legged outside.

"Good morning, Commander," Yemir says.

"Morning," John answers. "I'm getting breakfast, want anything?"

Yemir nods.

"Thank you, Commander. I'll make sure Dr. McKay is not disturbed," he says.


"You do that," John says, and he leaves towards the stalls to the East a bit that sell what's almost grits. There are some hard boiled eggs this morning, too, and soon John's got enough stuff to feed everyone. He's surprised that Rodney's already dressed and out when he comes back, sitting around a little campfire with the two others, but there's a kettle which seems to be holding something that smells almost like coffee that could be the explanation. They all eat mostly in silence, and then it's time for John to switch from the shirt to the leather armor. When he's all buckled in, Rodney puts on his long coat and he sighs dramatically.


"We should find a place to practice with the crossbow," Rodney says. "I did last minute modifications to the one we borrowed."

"Your crossbow was already pretty spectacular," John tries to soothe. 

Rodney has played with the springs and torque, most probably dismantling it into parts and building it back, and in return he's managed to put together one hell of a crossbow. It fits into the parameters allowed by the officials, Rodney made extra sure of that, but the arrows when fired leave faster and travel further and steadier than when they bought the crossbow, and by far.

"Not bad, and with a couple of arrows of practice, I'm pretty sure that going through that part of the Elgo Fest will be a formality for you," Rodney says.


"I hope so," John says. Rodney opens the lock on the wooden chest where he's kept the crossbow, but John reaches him before he pulls it out. "Hey, wait a sec."


John takes a little pouch he put in there a couple of days ago, and Rodney frowns at him, curious.


"I got you something," John says. He's bought it at the market over a week ago, but he hasn't had the nerves to give it to Rodney before. Figuring that it's pretty much at the last of the quiet time they'll have, it's now or never. "Thought you could complete the look, you know?" 

He takes out the necklace, first, with a gold pendant, and attaches it around Rodney's neck.  He looks completely surprised.

"Oh, that's... that's very nice of you, thanks," Rodney says.

It is, but that's not the real important gift John bought. He shakes the pouch and three rings fall in his palm.

"If we're going for rich and sophisticated, you need bling," John mocks to cover that he's pretty much dying of nerves, here. He starts by a ring on Rodney's right hand that pretty much fit, but when he slides the last on Rodney's left ring finger John can't help but glance at Rodney's face. He's flushed pink, blinking a little.

"Oh."

Of course he gets it. John leans in to kiss Rodney softly, and it morphs into a tight hug. Since he's never been good with words, John awkwardly asks:

"You know, right?"

"Yes. Yes, I know. I love you, too," Rodney says back.

***



The crossbow event, like the fight scheduled for the early evening, is set to happen in the stadium built to contain at least forty thousand people. The architecture is similar to the arenas John has visited in northern Africa, a little worse for wear but still sturdy. John knows that Rodney, Ronon and Yemir have seats somewhere, but apart from that he's on his own. The Sixty, as they're called, are waiting down in the bowels of the stadium until it's time to compete. John tries to keep to himself, but there's a couple of competitors who are eying him, and finally a tall fellow, well built and with eyes as dark as his black hair comes forward with a small smile. He's not much over twenty five years old, and if John remembers well he had been polite the night before.

"I'm Turly, from Ralan," he says with a bow of his head. Ralan is a city not that far from the gate if John remembers right.

"John Sheppard, from Lantea," John replies, mimicking the salute. Upon impulse, he offers his hand to shake and Turly smiles wider and does so.

"You're the Candidate's Champion, aren't you?" he asks, visibly curious.

John nods.

"That I am. Sorry to disappoint you guys, but I'm bringing her back home," he adds with a wink.

Turly laughs, eyes twinkling.

"You're sure of yourself, John Sheppard," he says and John shrugs with a smirk.

"If I wasn't, I wouldn't be here," John says.

"Is she worth your life?" Turly says.

"Totally," John says, no hesitation. "She's my friend, the leader of her people and she's an important member of my Team. I'd die for her, yes."


Turly looks at him speculatively.


"You said leader of her people, but she's not yours?"

John wonders if he should lie on this, but he decides to go with the truth.

"No. Our people work together," John says. "I'd still do anything for her, so here I am."

With eyes crinkling, Turly grins.

"She's beautiful, then," he says.

It surprises a laugh out of John.

"Very, yes. But that's not it, I'm... engaged to someone else," John says, the word weird on his tongue but it feels right so in many ways that it makes John smile.

"She must be one special woman, then," Turly says.

"Yep. She's family," John says, which he feels right down the marrow of his bones, and that's the most important. "I'm not surprised that she was chosen as a Candidate. You can be sure she's not coming back here, ever, though. No offense," John says.

"You cannot blame us for trying," Turly says. "I've heard people addressing you as Commander. You lead your world's armies?"

"Yes," he says. 

Turly looks genuinely curious, and not as if he's fishing for something. There's a roar in the crowd outside and John turns towards the doors. People with pads and quills are checking lists, and he figures it's going to start soon. John turns to Turly and smiles at him. 

"Good luck, out there," John says, offering his hand again. Turly smiles and shakes.

"Same to you, Commander Sheppard. May the best man win and prove his worth," Turly says before they walk to the little crowd. 

The crossbow competition is not complicated: the sixty candidates come out in waves of ten, and try to make the higher number of points on the targets. Of each group the six best at points go to the second round, where again in groups of six they have to hit targets that are further that time. The best three of each group, so eighteen total, are then declared finalists for the hand to hand combat later that night. 

John sits in a corner as he waits for his name to come up, trying to project as much cool as he can. Turly goes in the arena and comes back with a wide smile, and sits down next to John as they wait for John's turn. They chat a little, until John's name is called in the second to last wave of the first round, the groups having been made with their results from the shrer race. John gets a little shoulder bump for luck from Turly and follows his adversaries out in the stadium, where they are met with whistles and clapping that is almost deafening. The first targets are about twenty five yards away from where they are, just as he's practiced in the last ten days.

Once in place, it's not very long: if they could bring their own crossbow - that is scrupulously measured by an official - they're given six standardized arrows. The sun is getting high, as they're nearing mid day now, and it's uncomfortably hot. John puts the first arrow in the crossbow and lies down on the ground to fire, as most of the other ten do, and then waits for his signal. Each contestant has to wait for the sound of the officials whistle, going by turn with one arrow only. John keeps his eyes on his own target, visualizing the center and doesn't look at the results of any of the men who fire first, though the exclamations of the crowd are a pretty good indicator of how well they're doing. There's automatic disqualification for someone who fires out of order, and John counts in his head. He's sixth in line, which he's been told is an honor for an offworlder but offered to the Champions of Candidates who make it this far.

When his turn comes, John exhales, holds his breath and presses the trigger. The arrow goes almost to the center and the crowd roars. John grins but it's not time to lose his focus, so he carefully listens to the whistles, until they go full circle and it's his turn to fire again. The crossbow's working like a charm and John manages to group his arrows into a nice circle in the center, even if around the fourth one the sun is hitting hard, and makes sweat bead and drip in his eyes. He should have put a scarf around his head again. At one point John gets focused enough that after letting go of his arrow, he searches the ground for a second before he realizes he just fired the sixth and last and that's why there's none left to reload. 

Only then does he scramble to his knees and checks out the targets in a row in the distance. There's no one that's notably bad, but John sees at first glance that he's sure to make it to the second part of the proceedings, after lunch. He waits for the tenth to fire the last arrow and they all rise to their feet. The officials, three of them, go to each target in turn with something to measure and note, which takes a couple of minutes, then they announce that two, four, seven and nine didn't make the cut. John tries to find Rodney and the others in the crowd, but it's too hard so he turns and goes back inside, in the shade, to wait for the second wave.  

When he reaches the competitor's chamber, Turly's waiting for him and he smiles wide when John does a wink and a thumb up. The last group of ten go out but thankfully while they go through the first part of the event, the rest of them are offered beverages and something to eat. John doesn't feel like eating much, he's always lost his appetite in the heat, but he takes a swing of the canteen and almost spits it out when he realizes there's a lemony flavor to the water. It's instinct by that point, but since Rodney's not here and there's no danger, John just keep on drinking. It would be stupid to get dehydrated now. 

The second part of the crossbow competition will proceed with groups of six, which are determined with the results of the first wave. The distance measured from arrows to center of the targets is added up for each competitor and gives them a rank. Then from worst to best, they're distributed into six new groups. John got the twelfth rank, and therefore gets assigned to the sixth group, the last to compete. Turly tells him it's a good omen, the sixth group being blessed by the Goddess, while Turly himself is in the fourth. 


It's not that John doesn't want Turly to realize his dream to become a Queen's suitor, but when he leaves for his turn in the stadium almost an hour later, John almost wishes that he doesn't make the cut. There's nice enough recognition on Norimia for someone who went this far, and John likes the kid, wouldn't want him to get hurt in the fights, later. The way Turly's beaming when he gets back in the chamber is proof enough that there's no avoiding it, though. In fact, he's so hyper, he's practically bouncing off the walls. John goes to meet him and he's glomped in a quick one armed hug, Turly still gripping his crossbow tight.

"I made it!" Turly says.

"Congratulations," John says, clapping his back. The guys who came back winners earlier are checking out Turly more closely, probably evaluating him as a future adversary, so John leads him to a bench in the back. "You should rest for now, drink a bit."


With a thousand watt smile, Turly follows him, telling John how no mater what, now, he's brought pride to Ralan, that it's a good day, maybe one blessed enough to make him a suitor. John nods and lets him babble on until the sixth and last group is called.


"I'll be back soon," John tells Turly, using the red cloth he usually keeps around his waist to wrap around his head. It's practically the worst of day, as far as the sun is concerned, and he wants to avoid problems. John's simple reassurance makes Turly smile because, at this point, the losers are escorted out of the stadium and not back here.

"Of course. See you later," Turly says.

Same as before, John is lead to his spot on the firing line and given six arrows. The targets, though, are further away, at forty yards or so. From tests they did this morning, John knows exactly how to compensate for the greater distance. Once again, the whistling from the official start, each followed by the muffled sound of the arrow hitting the targets, then by the crowd's reaction. John counts the whistle blows, focuses the best he can, and when it's his turn he releases his first arrow. There's barely any angle adjustment needed, since Rodney increased the torque, and it flies to the target and hits dead center, even better than John did earlier. There's a different quality to the roars of the spectators this time. The advantage the improved crossbow gives John was less visible in a short distance, but now it's glaringly obvious. 

The rhythm of whistling by the time keeper doesn't falter, though, precise like a metronome, and soon enough it's time for the second shot, the third, until they're all done. By then, the crowd’s noise increases each time it's John's turn, though he manages to make abstraction of it pretty well. He's having a good day, too, John decides because he's practically hitting the arrows one over the other, or close enough. A quick look to his right when he fires the sixth shows him that he's definitely got the best result of his wave. He sits back on his haunches, pats the crossbow with a warm mental thank you to Rodney, and like before, the officials go measure and note the results. With no surprise, he's confirmed to go to the next round and they leave the sand of the arena for the cooler corridors once more.

As they walk in towards the chambers, a big guy with tattoos almost everywhere there's skin on display, and it's quite a bit, falls into step with John.

"It is a very impressive Ukna you possess, Stranger," he says.

John smiles, because yeah, he has the best crossbow on this entire planet, he's pretty sure.

"Thanks," John says. "Maybe I could start trading some to Norimia."

They're back in the chamber now, and John hears Turly's whoop just as tattoo guy says casually:

"You'd have to be alive for that."

He leaves John there to go meet a couple of other muscled beasts on the other side of the room. A threat or intimidation, then; it was bound to happen. There's barely time to turn his attention to Turly before the referee, as John has come to think of him, starts to read the results of the crossbow event, part two, for the eighteen finalists. The ranks this time give them the order they'll pledge allegiance to the Queens or Candidate, which is why John's particularly happy that he's ranked first. His new friend Turly is thirteenth for tonight, and when the list is all announced he turns to John.

"You scored 11? Less than in the first round?" Turly says, awed. 

John smiles at him.

"Seems like it," John says, and he notes how he's the focus more than ever in the room. And that his crossbow seems to have its hordes of followers, too. It's kind of late in the afternoon right now, and John's stomach growls. 

"Hey, do you think there's something left to eat?"


***


Thankfully, John did manage to grab a bite before he's whisked out to the fight preparations. Each of the eighteen have to go through ritual cleansing, to which John doesn't object, even though he's still dreaming about a long shower as soon as possible. Clad only in a towel, John's taken to sit near an older women, who grabs his right arm and starts painting swirly symbols that start on the back of his hand and creep all the way up to his elbow.  She's working with concentration and the paste she uses is cool on his skin, in a way that is unnatural. Once she's finished, she nods at him and he gets up and goes back to the room where the competitors left their gear earlier.  Turly is almost all dressed up and John sees that he was painted too, though it's on his left arm, his good one. 


"Tradition?" John asks him, running a finger on the lines that seem to have embedded in his skin.

"Yes, so you are made one with the blade and become the weapon, ensuring the safety of the royalty," Turly says. 

John dresses again and Turly's nice enough to check the buckles, so everything is nice and tidy while John does the same for him. John sees that many put on braces to protect their arms, so he decides to put his on, too. Better have leather and plate on than naked skin, if they don't restrict his movements. Fortunately, Turly helps with that too, because there are many leather cords and snaps to fasten for the different arm pieces John's outfit came with. The result would look a bit ridiculous if it didn't fit with the rest of the ensemble so well.  

Once everyone is ready, there's nothing much more to do than wait for the signal. Most of the guys start stretching, which John decides to do too. He's not the oldest of the lot, but he’s not far. Most are in their late twenties, early thirties and whoever he's going to fight, it won't be a piece of cake. A big man comes, some time later, and starts rehashing the instructions: go kneel before the Queen or Candidate you want to pledge allegiance to, keep your eyes down at all time in respect, do not address them unless they speak to you, and retreat to the chambers until the time to fight comes. They are then lined up by rank, John being first, and lead to the entryway of the stadium where they had the crossbow competition earlier. A dais has been set up, where John supposes the Queens and Teyla should be. 

The crowd is still packed in the arena, maybe even more than earlier in the day. It's getting dark out and the place is illuminated with torches planted a couple of feet apart in the sand around the arena and also some higher in the seats, as well as near the exits. There's a low level of noise, but constant, that feels a lot like expectation. Since he's first in line, John sees when the drapes around the dais move and a man comes up to the edge to speak, making a sign for the crowd to shut up: the effect is instantaneous as silence falls.


"Two Queens and One Candidate will join us tonight, in the search of the worthiest warriors of them all to protect and serve Norimia. Queen Ylon, of Westirn," he announces and a tall blond woman steps forward. She's probably in her late forties and absolutely gorgeous, clad in long green flowing robes, and as she waves at the crowd the cheers are loud. When she sits down in a chair at stage left, the announcer speaks again.

"Queen Samah, of Dermi," he says as a younger woman this time steps out on the dais, with curly brown hair, a white robe and a brilliant smile, and the cheers are just as loud as she salutes before she goes to sit in the middle chair.

"And Candidate Teyla Emmagan, of Athos," the man says as Teyla come out. She looks stunning with an elaborate bustier decorated in blue and gold and a long pink skirt with a wide belt hanging down on her hips. It leaves her middle bare, showing her amazing figure, even if she tries to wrap herself up in a length of light fabric like a shawl, though it doesn't hide anything since it's pretty transparent. There's an awed murmur and Teyla - who seems a bit stiff and is eying the exits, John's pretty sure - steps forward to salute gracefully, which makes the crowd roar.  She finally steps to her seat, sitting down with all the grace of an actual Queen. John can't help but smile at that.

There's some more talking, but John only pays attention when he hears his own name being called up. The guard at the door gestures him to go, so John takes a deep breath and walks in the stadium. As he expected, there's a mix of cheers and boos, as most of those people would prefer to keep Teyla and he's well aware of that. John walks right to the dais, in front of Teyla, and without looking up at her he puts a knee to the ground and hits his fist on his heart.

"I offer you my life," he says loud and clear, as is expected of him.

"And I am humbled by your gift," Teyla replies. Then, as she has the right, she addresses him, though with more hushed tones. "John, it is good to see you."

"Are you okay?" John whispers back. 

Meanwhile, the announcer says the name the second warrior, cueing more cheers which make hearing Teyla more difficult.

"They have treated me well, except for keeping me against my will. There is no need for concern," she says. "This is dangerous, John. I could bide my time until the probation period is done without a problem."

John snorts; he knows Teyla must be more than ready to leave under her cool exterior.

"What? And I'd have done all of this for nothing? Nah, don't worry, we'll be out soon."

"Be careful," Teyla urges.

One by one, the eighteen are called out and if at first they knelt before the two Queens, when all is said and done there are five men kneeling before Teyla, five in front of the blond and eight offered their lives to the brunette. John's annoyed that Turly decided that he'd risk Teyla, but there isn't much he can do about it at the moment, keeping his eyes down on the ground so he doesn't do something stupid enough to get disqualified. The group for Teyla and Queen Samah are asked to leave the fighting grounds, so they stand up and go back inside. The first thing John does when they're in the chamber is to turn to Turly and get in his face, which attracts a guard that steps forward to separate them. No fighting is allowed outside of the sand of the arena.

"What the fuck, Turly?" John says, scowling. "Why did you do this?"

The kid looks honestly puzzled.

"You have convinced me that Candidate Emmagan is worthy, it will be an honor to fight for her," he says. 

John puts his hands over his face, begging for some calm.

"But I don't want to hurt you, you idiot!" John mumbles.

"I will fight fairly, Commander Sheppard, I can assure you," Turly says, but then straightens up when John looks at him again. "I will fight to win, though. But not to kill you, unless it's necessary."

"For the love of god," John groans, then sigh, tapping Turly's arm. "Okay, fine. Same here."

The only thing left to do is to wait until it's their turn to fight. John stretches some more, observing his future adversaries. Beside Turly there's the tattooed guy who threatened him earlier, a lean and sort of weaselly man who keeps staring as if John personally offends him just by breathing, and a guy who looks like more muscle than brains. One on one, John would not be all that worried with any of them, but it's going to be all at once and that's a recipe for unpredictability which makes him nervous.

The only cue to what is going on outside is the ebb and flow of the noise the crowd makes, though after a little while there's the sound of horns, which signals that the first fight is finished. It didn't take all that long, twenty minutes tops. The second group, the eight for Queen Samah, is then asked to go into the stadium, which starts the whole thing once more. This time, it's way longer, and John decides to play a little mind game, going to lie down on a bench in the back. Inside, he's starting to get nervous and he'd prefer to pace like Turly and Muscle Man, but this is annoying the shit out of Tattoo Guy and Weasel Dude, which is a plus. 

Finally, after the horns sound once more, they're asked to go out. It is pitch black outside by now, though the visibility in the fighting area is good enough. The crowd is definitely louder, and there's some chanting which is on par for every single big sporting event John's been to. That men probably died earlier tonight doesn't seem a problem, and in fact was probably cheered on. Teyla's still sitting on her chair, back ramrod straight and John sees that sitting next to each Queen is their champion, although one seems to be getting some medical attention for a cut to his ribs. The sand has been raked, but some spots are darker and the air smells faintly of blood.

"Warriors, please step forward to pick your weapons," the announcer says.

That's one thing that John had been annoyed with, not being able to practice with the actual weapons he was going to use in the fight. Yemir had assured him that they were traditional and sacred, and that the practice ones would be close enough to the real thing, though. On the other hand, no risk of poison was good, because looking at his opponents, he wouldn't have put it past Weasel Dude and Tattoo Man. On the ground, near the dais, is an assortment of curved swords and long daggers. John had practiced with one of each, though any combo was acceptable. He lets the others chose before stepping forward and immediately John feels the tickling hum of Ancient technology calling to him. It's surprising because he hasn't felt it anywhere on Norimia before now, and how it can happen with such a weapon defies explanations. It's a couple of daggers to the left, obviously older than the rest and therefore looking less sharp, so the others have ignored them altogether. John doesn't know exactly what the Ancient component does, but it can only be an advantage for him. Careful not to turn it on immediately, John takes the one that has the strongest vibration. The guy tending to the weapon shoots him a surprised but assessing look, and John guesses the daggers with the Ancient vibes are generally overlooked. 

After a bow to Teyla, they're then pointed to the fighting area, where John takes position waiting for the whistle. When it sounds, Muscle Man comes straight for him, while Tattoo Guy and Weasel Dude seem to gang up on Turly. Since he doesn't have the luxury to worry about the kid, John focuses on his adversary, exchanging blows with the scimitar while blocking with the dagger. The man might be as tall as Ronon but he's nowhere near as fast and John soon draws first blood, on an arm. It makes his guy furious, which is good because he doesn't think as much and John manages to cut his leg, enough to handicap him enough to take him out of the fight. When Muscle Man falls, the crowd roars, momentarily making itself known to John who had blocked it out.

Turly's holding his own between Tattoo Guy and Weasel Dude, who's trying to get him in the back. He's tired, though, and has several cuts on his arms and a bad one on his side. John yells and dives in, distracting Tattoo Guy long enough to get to Turly and they are back to back now, fighting together. 

"You're hurt. You need to get out of this!" John says between two blows, teeth clenched. This shit is hard, man, he's getting tired.

"I will die before surrendering," Turly says, panting hard, and then lashing out at Weasel Dude who's cackling like a hyena.
 
"Jesus," John curses as a blow cuts him high on his left arm, and he's got to think of something fast because he's going to get himself killed. They manage to push away another attack, but it's getting harder for Turly, John can feel it.


"Then I'm sorry, kid, but I've got to do this," John says, and before Turly can wonder what that means John hits him under the jaw with a vicious elbow blow. 

He hears an ominous crack and Turly falls down to the ground in a heap. John leaps away, hoping to bring the two others with him before they stab Turly's unconscious form, just for kicks. It works and Tattoo Guy and Weasel Dude start circling him, always staying opposite of each other. John tries to turn as they do to keep one on each side and none in a blind spot.

"What are you waiting for?" John shouts, trying to goad them into making a move already.

"You'll go back to your world as a corpse, Stranger. No one comes here and humiliates us unpunished," Tattoo Guy says. 

God, John just can't wait until this is over, he has no patience for corny villain lines. But he can't deny that he's getting tired here, and two against one is maybe more than he can take right now. That's when he remembers the hum in the dagger and John shrugs.

"Look, all I want is to take my friend back, so let's end this," John says. "I'm giving you a last chance to bow out before I kick your asses."

It makes both men smile.

"I like your style, Stranger," Tattoo Guy says. "End this, if you can."

"Okay," John says, and hoping that he's not doing something stupid, he thinks 'on' at the dagger in his right hand. There's a sudden flash as it lights up, flames running on the curved side of the blade and filling delicate patterns there. It's pretty cool looking and the crowd makes an 'ohhhhh' noise. Better yet, his opponents look flabbergasted. John's about to say something suitably cutting when the tingling goes to another level and his arm suddenly feels cold as hell. He looks down to see the flames start to creep up on his arm, following the painting the old lady made earlier. It's surprising as hell, but it takes a second to realize it's mostly for show because it doesn't hurt at all. John grins when the crowd gets in more of a frenzy, then he gets in position, showing off a little. 

"Let's get this party going," John says, and he takes a deep breath when both guys lunge towards him at once. 

As Ronon and Teyla always tell him, John tries to fall into the head-space where his body is leading, and not his mind. It's surprisingly easy, and John figures that he's helped by the Ancient dagger and its light show. He starts to move, dodging and stabbing, moving faster than usual for sure and rapidly it's clear that he has the advantage. At one point Weasel Dude steps back, so John focuses on Tattoo Guy, who's more and more stepping back under his assaults. John has weakened the guy's good arm by now, and he's about to deliver a blow to the head when there are cries and John has a sudden and irrepressible urge to duck. When he does, Tattoo Guy lets go an 'oomph' and John looks up to see he has a dagger embedded to the hilt in the middle of his chest. Tattoo Guy stands there, looking surprised, before falling down and John turns to see Weasel Dude down one dagger and looking a bit panicky.

"Going for my back, there?" John asks him, spitting to the ground.

Even though he doesn't fight fair when he can, Weasel Dude is too proud to run away. But he's cornered right now, which is always dangerous. Not allowing him time to think, John charges with a cry, and they start exchanging blow after blow. The fucker is wiry and stronger than he looks. In the end, though, he's no match and John manages to disarm him. Throwing away his own sword, John then grabs him and delivers an uppercut with the butt of his dagger that sends him to dreamland immediately. 

Panting, John looks around in a circle, surrounded by the cries and he raises his dagger to the sky, making them wild. John grins, knowing that he's gonna get hell for this from Rodney and god, he made it. John thinks off at the dagger that returns inert and runs to the dais. He's about to kneel before Teyla when she all but jumps into his arms, laughing. He laughs too, spinning her around and yeah, the crowd is definitely approving of this. 

"That was magnificent, John!" Teyla says.

"A piece of cake," John replies, letting her down.

The master of ceremonies approaches them and he bows to them.

"This Elgo Fest will be talked about for generations," he says, looking pleased. That's good, because John was a bit afraid they'd be pissed to lose their Candidate.

"Oh, well, I did what had to be done," John says.

Bowing again, the MC turns and does the silence gesture again, which makes the noise level fall suddenly.

"The Candidate's Champion has proved his worth!" he exclaims and if there was a roof, it would have blown off with the roar that follows. 

Teyla smiles, and then raises John's hand, getting another cheer.

***


The rest of the night is a whirlwind of epic proportion. The two Queens offer their congratulations and then it's the higher class that come and asks questions about the dagger that John can barely answer. He's asked to light it up a couple of times before he finds the guy who handled the weapons in the stadium and gladly gives it back. The man takes it reverently, and John points to the other three daggers he knows would do the same and winks. 


John then insists on going to the infirmary, or what is used as one, and sees that Turly looks a bit worst for wear, his jaw swollen though the rest is patched up. John winces.

"I might have gone a bit hard on you, kid," he says, coming close enough to offer his hand.

Turly shakes it while he rolls his eyes, but he looks amused.

"Better sore than dead," Turly says. "I heard the Goddess was with you, covering you in fire. I wish I had seen that."

"Not all of me, just my arm," John says. He has a feeling this whole thing will take epic proportions soon. "What are your plans, now?"

"I am not sure. There is no shame having lost to you, that is for sure," Turly says.

"Just saying, we're recruiting for my armies. I could use someone like you," John says and it's like he's just offered Turly the best gift ever, his face lighting up.

"I'd be honored, Commander," he says, hitting his fist on his heart in the Norimian salute.

"Great, this is the time and coordinates," John says, giving him a piece of paper with the address of the boot camp. "There's training, first, but I'm sure you'll make it." 

There is some sort of commotion in the corridor, just outside.

"Does it seem like I care? I want to see him now!"


John turns to the door when he hears Rodney’s voice, visibly coming closer. It seems he's on a roll. 

"Or Teyla. Where is she? You better not have taken her away again, or I swear to god, I'll..."

"Rodney!" John shouts when he gets in the doorway and from one moment to the next he's crushed in a bear hug. He laughs, squeezing Rodney back. 

"Oh my god, you son of a bitch," Rodney says when he finally lets John go, but he's grinning. "Only you could find Ancient tech in a place like this."

John smiles.

"I'm lucky like that!" he says and Rodney then looks at him critically, turning John's face this way and that, then inspecting the bandage on his left arm.

"Are you okay?" Rodney asks, as if he can't believe what he sees with his own two eyes, that John is whole and practically intact.

"Yeah, I'm okay," he says.

"Sheppard!" Ronon booms, before crushing John in a second bear hug in minutes, one that makes all of his breath go out suddenly. It's possibly the thing that has hurt the most in the whole Elgo Fest. Ronon then takes John by the scruff of his neck and shakes him like a puppy. "Your backhand left slash needs some work."

Laughing, John ducks out of Ronon's grip, but that's when Teyla comes in the room and she's the target of a simultaneous hug that makes her disappear between Rodney and Ronon. Her laugh his delighted and John can only grin, just like Yemir, who's right there but doesn't dare to go and intrude in such a fierce affair. He salutes John, military style.

"Commander, I've never been more proud to serve under you," he says, still smiling.

"Thanks Yemir, wouldn't have made it without you," John says, clapping his shoulder. He then looks at his Team, all grinning and happy, and claps his hands together.

"Okay, guys, it's been fun, but I think it's time to go home."

"I thought you'd never say it," Rodney says and grabs John's hand to pull him out of the chamber going to the exit. John links his fingers through his, feeling the ring, and he grins, thinking that for a kidnapping situation, he's seen way worse.




The End.

Comments

[auburn]

antares_dw, the art is lovely, genuinely pretty to look at, and I must admit I've been riveted by the image of John with long hair. Whenever I've tried to imagine it, it hasn't worked at all in my head, yet this does. I'm so impressed.

At the same time, the story. lou, you built a fantastic AU story from the picture. (I am just loving the work that this challenge has produced so far.) You've got all the elements from the illo integrated into your plot. I am so glad it was still a stargate story, despite the Arabian Nights look of the art, not because I dislike the Arabian Nights, but because SGA stories that have some connection to canon are getting rare on the ground of late. You came up with one of the tropes I love best, though: the expedition that never recovered contact with Earth.

Great stuff, artist and author!

[lou]

thank you so much, I am happy you think I captured the art, because i love it so ♥ (and between you and me? John's hair is one of the reasons I picked this, isn't it amazing? LOL!)

It was a lot of fun to make it Atlantis based, but not quite as we know it. I'm really glad it worked for you. thanks for the great comment!

[antares_dw]

Thanks a lot for your nice words!

I tried John with his usual short hair and with the long hair - and then I decided to take the long-haired one.
On the other hand, Rodney with long, blond hair looked ... very strange. *lol*

[mab_browne]

Art and story are both highly enjoyable. :-)

[lou]

thank you so much! =D

[danceswithgary]

The artwork is just gorgeous and I can't wait to read the story! I'm saving it to read as incentive to finish my McShep Match fic.

*uses every scrap of willpower to go back to writing*

[antares_dw]

Thank you very much for your nice words!

And I'm already looking forward to all the McShep Match stories! *bg*

[djaddict]

The artwork is absolutely beautiful and very well done! Love John in this one!

The story was facinating and detailed. Great world building for an abandoned Atlantis. Really enjoyed!

[lou]

oh, thank you so much, I'm glad you enjoyed the story. it was fun to play with the idea of an Atlantis cut from Earth =D

[mecurtin]

Haven't read the story yet, but OMG the art is AWESOME! I love the fact that BadAssHero!John still has a kind of rueful expression.

[antares_dw]

Thank you very much for your nice feedback!

And BadAssHero!John isn't bad at all, but totally the hero in the story. *lol*

[mecurtin]

The story: WOW, I love it. I love the details about John riding, and about the crossbow. But what tickles me most is that I didn't notice the tiny glint of gold on Rodney's left hand until it came into the story. antares, did you intend for it to be a wedding ring, or was that part lou's idea? Excellent work for each and both, either way.

[lou]

thank you so much! the art was so inspiring, I just kept adding more and more stuff from it to the story. I had noticed the jewelry, and I'd be curious to know if Antares had thought about what it could be, but John totally surprised me as I wrote when he sort of proposed without saying anything. (yes, sometimes the characters sort of get ideas! lol!)

so glad the riding and the crossbow worked for you, too. thank you again for great feedback!

[d_odyssey]

Stunning art! The colors are rich and striking, love the light shining on Teyla. John is strong and gorgeous. Rodney's clothing fit the scholar as he concentrates on the scroll. Nice touch with the schers/horses in the corner. So beautiful and fits hand in glove with the story.

The story is entertaining and wonderful. Great detail and world building. Your original characters are well developed and likable, particularly Yemir and Turly. Enjoyed the strength and comfort of the Atlanteans as they have no contact with Earth and are good for it. John and Rodney were awesome, love the open relationship, the trust between them and of course, the snark and love. The schers and riding contest were very cool. Liked the contests, the gladiator type setting and especially the surprising ancient dagger. The fire and reactions were fantastic. John winning, Teyla jumping in his arms, inviting Turly to Atlantis, Rodney demanding to see Teyla and John and finally, team love were the perfect ending.

Great job on the art and the fic. Much love for both.

[lou]

oh wow, thanks so much for the great feedback =D =D

I'm happy the story worked for you and particularly that you liked Yemir and Turly! I'm always a bit nervous writing OCs. the art was so inspiring, I kept thinking of new things to add until it grew and grew. glad it was entertaining and that you liked all that. Team love (and the John/Rodney love) was important for me, so it's awesome you enjoyed!

thank you again for taking the time to make this great comment, it's deeply appreciated :)

[shaddyr]

Wonderful story! I do enjoy "cut off from Earth" fics, and this was no exception.

And, fantastic artwork - all three of them look fabulous!

[lou]

thank you, this story was a lot of fun to write, so I'm really happy you enjoyed it. it was my first time exploring the "cut off from Earth" scenario, so I'm glad it worked for you!

[sage]

oh, very cool -- art & story! I love the concept & also that the contest is more of a triathlon than gladiator thing. Many nice twists.

[lou]

awesome! thank you so much! and ha, yes, I was totally writing this as a triathlon, Pegasus style ;) glad it entertained you!

[(Anonymous)]

I enjoyed this immensely. I like the way you pictured Atlantis separated from Earth. Your original characters were satisfyingly rich, John with the shrer was a joy to read, and the art was beautiful.

[antares_dw]

Thank you very much for your nice words!

[mirror_mirrin]

I haven't read the story yet, but I just wanted to say that I absolutely love the art. It's just gorgeous.

[antares_dw]

Thank you very much!

And I love you icon very, very much!! Is there a bigger version of this hot and lovely scene? *g*

[ozsaur]

The artwork is fabulous! I keep looking at it and finding more fascinating details. It's so rich, I'm surprised at how much ended up in the story. Really love the costumes and John's long hair.

The story is so exciting! I would have been happy with a fantasy story, but I'm thrilled that you made this a canon based AU. I can see this Atlantis evolving after being cut off from Earth for so long. The story itself is a fun and suspenseful read. Really enjoyed it.

[antares_dw]

Thanks a lot for your nice words. And yes, I was also very happy with how many details Lou put in her story - even details I hadn't paid that much attention to while making the manip. *g*

[davincis_girl]

The artist made great choices with this graphic piece and showed a high level of skill.

I loved the entire story as well.

[antares_dw]

Thank you very much for your wonderful feedback!

[winter_elf]

Whoo Hoo! John as an Action Hero! :) :) :)

Great Manip! Terrific idea for an AU :)

Loved the world building and action in the story. The challenges were fun, rescuing Teyla - who wasn't a helpless figure - but rather captured because of her strength, and the strong connection between John & Rodney :) Thanks! And you know, you can write more in this AU :)

[lou]

I'm really really happy that you had fun reading this! and oh, thanks, it was important to me to show that Teyla was not this damsel in distress but just so awesome that the Norimians wanted to keep her for themselves ;)

ah, well you and the wonderful other commenters are tempting me to maybe explore this AU a bit more eventually! that's an awfully nice compliment to make, thank you!

[danceswithgary]

A wonderful adventure that matches the beautiful artwork marvelously. Great world-building and action scenes, and John and Rodney were so great together. :-D

[lou]

I'm really pleased that you think the art and story go well together because it was so inspiring. I had a lot of fun writing this and that you enjoyed it is wonderful! thank you!

[(Anonymous)]

Oh this was fun!! I liked the way you took the manip and rolled with it! Interesting with Atlantis being cut-off from Earth - it was fun to see Bates again. I loved the challenge and the Ancient tech. Very fun!

[lou]

thank you so much for your nice comment! and yes, Bates! that's what is fun with alternate timelines, we can have anyone we want ;)

Great story!

[(Anonymous)]

The story was great, I enjoyed it and the picturre was amazing! Thanks for sharing.

Re: Great story!

[lou]

thank YOU for reading and commenting! much appreciated, I am happy you enjoyed =D

[pionie]

I really enjoyed this, both the art which I've already mentioned is fabulous, but also the story, which was great. You painted such a coherent world, with all the people and the customs, and I liked the Ancient dagger, already become legend!

[lou]

I'm sorry it took me so long to come and thank you for your great comment! I am really happy that you enjoyed the story, it means a lot!

[gozer]

Gorgeous art, and the story is wonderful in every way. They suit one another perfectly.

[lou]

thank you so much (sorry if I'm late with the reply!)

the art was very inspiring and I'm glad you enjoyed the story that resulted!

[seliki]

This was awesome and great and I loved it.

[lou]

I'm really glad to hear that, thank you so much!

[michelel72]

The art is really amazingly rendered; the characters are blended in perfectly. The story does a fantastic job of accounting for all the elements while remaining tense and exciting in its own right. Great job, both of you!

[lou]

thank you, the art was such a treat to work with! I really had fun writing this and I am thrilled that you enjoyed reading!

[(Anonymous)]

Great story; picks up on the terrific artwork, but stands on its own, as well. Love the lost expedition trope. i can see a Lot more potential stories in this 'verse! Jantique

[mf_luder_xf]

This was such fun! What a wonderful planet society and OCs you have created here. It felt like I was there with them. And I loved seeing an Atlantis, left so long without Earth, but thriving. The whistling marine was adorable. :)