Fic: With Fire and Sword (7/8)
Previously:
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
Part 5
Part 6
The two older lords had taken a group of uninjured men, many of them archers, to search the palace for any more stray Wraith who might be lurking in the corridors. Ronon doubted any others had gotten through the lines, but it was probably wise.
That left Lady Teyla in charge below. After the last few hours, he no longer found that strange.
He followed when she went back outside, more to have something to do than for any other reason. The men remaining on the grounds were searching through the bodies, collecting their countrymen and systematically ensuring the Wraith were indeed dead. The fog had rolled in across the harbor by now, and even Ronon felt a chill as he glanced out toward the sea and saw only a wall of white that swallowed up the tops of Atlantis' towers.
Teyla was conversing with someone about disposing of the bodies. Ronon heard a noise coming from the harbor and stiffened, moving down toward the shore. Teyla followed a moment later, keeping her voice low. "What is it?"
"There are boats approaching," he replied in a similar tone. "They carry torches." The approaching ships were not trying to conceal their presence, which suggested they were not Wraith, but Ronon knew well enough to not take such a thing for granted.
Unfortunately, Teyla slipped past him and moved closer to the water. The short woman was stubbornly brave. He cursed internally and hurried to catch up.
They waited for a moment before the first of the rowboats came into view. The men inside were wearing the blue uniforms of Atalan's navy, but Ronon did not relax until one of the men hailed Teyla by name.
He was evidently a captain of one of the ships in the harbor. He was limping, his leg bleeding, and he stepped aside with Teyla and Ronon as the line of injured men moved slowly past them and up the incline to the gates, some carrying their comrades on stretchers.
"What news, Captain?" Teyla asked the other man.
"We have disabled or sunk all the Wraith ships, my lady. We lost the Tria and the Apollo along with the Destiny. The Odyssey is damaged and cannot maneuver at the moment. She lies near the harbor entrance."
Three ships, possibly four, was nearly half Atalan's navy, according to what Ronon had overheard, but it could have been much worse.
The captain indicated more wounded were coming from the ships and Teyla dismissed him to go see the physicians and have his injuries looked at. The man gave her an odd look at that and she raised an imperious eyebrow. "What is it, Captain?"
"Pardon me, my lady, but perhaps you should heed your own advice?" He nodded to her face, which was covered in dried blood along one side. She reached up and touched it as though she had forgotten she was even bleeding.
"In good time, sir," she told the officer, who was smart enough to scurry away.
Ronon was apparently not so intelligent, because he folded his arms. "He's right. You should see a doctor."
She glared at him. "Head wounds always bleed copiously. I am fine."
He planted his feet and wouldn't budge from her path. He cast about for a persuasive argument. "You're a mess. And you're probably scaring people."
Teyla stared up at him for a moment, and then her lips twitched in amusement almost in spite of herself. She sighed heavily. "Very well. The watch is set here if the alarm needs to be raised anyway."
He trailed after her as she headed back into the palace. It was slow going, as many people called to her, asking for information. She repeated the report of the navy's success several times before Ronon finally lost patience and caught her arm to steer her toward a seat near the buckets of water. She muttered something under her breath at him but didn't try to pull away.
But the water buckets were empty. One of the harried nurses turned a dark eye on Ronon when he inquired why. "We've had our hands full, haven't we? If you want to be useful, go refill some of them."
The woman rushed away to see to her next patient before either Ronon or Teyla could reply. When he turned to look at her, Teyla looked a bit shocked, though more so on her own behalf than his, he thought. She was accustomed to being addressed with deference, after all.
"I suppose we should make ourselves useful," she observed wryly, grabbing two of the water buckets. Ronon grabbed four more and followed her down a hallway that led into the castle. Torches were lit along the walls here, probably because people had been moving back and forth during the night, and in short order they came out in a small courtyard centered around a well. More torches burned here inside the metal sconces on the walls. Ronon set to work pulling up the bucket in the well and pouring the water into the other containers. Teyla shifted the full buckets out of the way without comment, but then abruptly when the last one was finished, she stepped away and sat down hard on the nearby stone bench.
He just barely caught himself before saying her name. "My lady?"
She grinned at him and shook her head. "That sounds almost strange coming from you."
He pushed aside his embarrassment. "What is wrong?"
Teyla rubbed absently at her face. "Nothing. I am just tired."
He could well understand that. The furor of the battle had subsided and his body was now protesting the strain of the last several hours. And he was more used to this type of punishment than a member of the Atalanian court.
He handed her one of the pieces of cloth he had grabbed in the infirmary before noticing there was no water. "Here. You might as well clean up out here in the peace and quiet."
She nodded at his chest. "So should you."
He glanced down, almost surprised to see the bloodstains on his tunic. He'd discarded his armor after rescuing the queen, but it had been fairly dark in the infirmary and he had not noticed the state of his clothing.
The armor had blocked most of the blows, but a few had gotten through and drawn blood. He hesitated for a fraction of a second before stripping the tunic off. Teyla had already seen the other scars on his body; it would not offend her to see them again.
In the torchlight he examined the wounds, but they were all fairly shallow and had ceased to bleed already. Only the cut on his arm was still seeping and he cleaned it hastily before wrapping another length of cloth around his arm.
He realized the silence had stretched and he looked up to find Teyla staring at him with an odd expression on her face. He wondered if she'd suffered any blows to the head - her eyes were glassy, probably from fatigue, but he'd seen men struck so and continue as if nothing had happened only to collapse some hours later.
She shook herself from her stupor, though. "Do you need a physician?"
"I've had much worse," he shrugged. The results of seven years of abuse by his captors were clearly visible on his skin.
Her gaze turned piercing. "Never again."
He stared back, his throat closing up. "Never again," he repeated, though it was barely a whisper. He turned away from her, looking across the courtyard. For so long his life had been lived moment to moment. Survival was the only thing that mattered. Every day he lived, he stole a victory from the filth who had destroyed his home and killed his family. When he grasped that the Wraith were organizing to strike at Atlantis, his sole purpose had become to escape and warn them, to prevent another island from falling to the Wraith. Death had been immaterial, as long as he survived long enough to deliver the message.
The Wraith were not entirely gone. Some remnants probably remained out on the seas. But the bulk of their forces lay dead and sinking outside. Atlantis was still standing, and Ronon was finally free.
He felt dizzy, and almost frightened. His heart seemed to thud against his ribs and his limbs shook. What would he do now? Where would he go? Ronon had not realized until that moment how absolute his expectation of death had been. It had never crossed his mind that the end of the Wraith would not mean his own end too.
A hiss drew his attention and he gladly focused on Teyla rather than his own panic. She was trying to clean off the dried blood and she had frozen in alarm. Evidently her injury was more painful than she had been willing to admit.
Without a mirror she also had done a poor job of cleaning the blood away.
He didn't bother asking permission. He straddled the bench and took the cloth from her hand, wetting it again and wringing it out before he began to wash her face. The blood had caked in a number of spots and he tried not to push too hard on Teyla's skin to get it loose.
She didn't speak, holding herself somewhat stiffly, but she did not bid him to stop. He preferred to focus on the task, so the only sound was the occasional ripple of the water or the echoes down the hallway.
The blood had gotten into her hair. Ronon pushed himself up and squinted in the flickering light. The actual cut was above her hairline. He sat back down. "You'll want to wash your hair."
She nodded and he noticed the blood ran all the way down her neck. Gingerly he reached out and tipped her chin up. Teyla realized what he was doing and she tilted her head back so he could finish wiping the mess off her throat.
Despite the chill in the air, her skin was warm, and his knee was pressed against her leg. Her eyes fluttered closed as he reached the base of her throat and he realized that underneath his fingertips he could feel her pulse.
A different sort of anxiety swept through him and he stilled, his fingers resting against her skin. Teyla craned her neck and looked up at him. This close he could mark her breathing and underneath the odors of blood and sweat, he could smell her. Suddenly he could think of nothing beyond the tiny space between them.
Her hand cupped his cheek and his eyes shut. He remembered her examining the injury to his back just a few days earlier, her touch warm but impersonal. This was not. Her hand was hot against his face and her fingers stroked along his jaw lightly. Goose bumps broke out on his arms.
Because his eyes were shut, he jumped when her lips brushed against his. He opened his eyes and found Teyla leaning very close. She still touched his cheek and she stared at him expectantly for a moment.
He had no idea what to do.
When he didn't move, she approached him again. This time he was expecting her kiss, but that made it no less strange.
Her lips moved against his slowly, and he realized she was exploring him. His pulse began to race for a new reason, and his hands reached for her waist without thought as he mimicked her actions. His lips parted, drawing in air, and as her arms wrapped around his neck, her tongue brushed against his.
Ronon shuddered, from pleasure this time, and opened his mouth, letting her in, and in a few heartbeats Teyla was exploring his mouth as thoroughly as she had his lips. Heat washed through him, but not the heat of rage or battle. It tingled along his spine and settled low in his belly. He pulled her closer, letting her have his mouth for long, luxurious moments. Teyla's hands dug into his shoulders, her nails pricking his skin slightly, and hunger flared through him.
He yanked and suddenly she was straddling his legs, her body flush against his bare chest. She was radiating warmth even through the layers of clothing between them. Ronon took control of the kiss. One of his hands tangled in her messy hair, gripping her tightly as his tongue moved frantically and with absolutely no finesse. Teyla didn't seem to mind based on the tiny sounds of pleasure she was making and the way her hands slid along his shoulders and his back eagerly. Distantly he knew this was wrong for some reason, that his hold on her was probably too strong, but the sensations in his body were so unfamiliar to him that it took several long seconds before he could rein himself in at all.
Her hands trailed up his neck and framed his face as the kiss slowed. When he would have pulled back, she chased after him, kissing him again. Ronon became aware that his body was reacting to the kisses and the feeling of her pressed against his chest and straddling his legs like this. He barely recognized it, after so many years.
If Teyla was aware of his condition, she gave no sign of it, but Ronon was feeling that sense of panic begin to well up again. He wasn't sure how he would react, had no idea what he was doing, so he gently but firmly set Teyla away from him, ending the kiss and moving her body to arm's length.
Her dark eyes were wide and almost apprehensive. On impulse he stroked one finger down the length of her neck. Her eyes closed for a moment and she sighed, and he had to fight the urge to drag her to him again. But too much had happened in a short period of time, and his own thoughts were so disordered, he hardly knew what he was doing.
His voice was rough when he finally spoke. "We should get back."
She watched him for a long moment, and he felt her taking his measure with a single look as she had several times already. He hoped she could see his confusion and understand it, but the woman was skilled enough at concealment - or perhaps his mind was too jumbled to tell - that he had no idea what she was thinking.
She merely nodded and backed away further. She swung her leg over the bench and stood, as did he. She picked up his tunic and tossed it right in his face with a smirk. "I suspect the shirt is ruined."
He tugged it over his head. "It wasn't really mine anyway," he responded in kind.
She picked up two of the full buckets, and he grabbed the remainder and followed her back to the infirmary. She did not look at him or comment further. Ronon would not have thought it possible, but he was actually even more unsettled now than he had been when they had come into the courtyard.
*~*~*~*
Fog had swathed the Odyssey in a white blanket, leaving the crew restless. Emerson took comfort from the growing quiet in the harbor which suggested the battle had indeed wound down. Some skirmish had taken place near the burning shipyards, but for now he remained on the deck and held in his questions. The injured crew were headed for the shore, but they had not lost nearly as many men as he had expected.
Meanwhile the ship remained at anchor, waiting as the last hours of the night waned.
One of the sentries he'd set in the stern signaled. The men were watching for any Wraith attempting to slip in boats out of the harbor, but the young man appeared puzzled as Emerson slipped into place alongside him. "Sir, a light out to sea," he murmured lowly.
Emerson squinted and indeed, he spotted first one glowing spot of yellow in the mist, then a second. Lantern lights from rowboats, it looked like. But the Wraith would not signal an approach so boldly, not after the last few hours.
Unless more ships were coming.
Emerson tensed and waved for his first officer. If another group of Wraith ships was bearing down on them, they were in very deep trouble.
The first of the boats came closer and the muffled silence of the dawn was broken. "Ahoy the ship!"
The first officer handed Emerson his spy glass and with some difficulty he trained it on the dark blur in the fog. A young man with light colored hair was waving from the bow of the row boat. He was wearing a blue uniform.
"Lieutenant Campbell?"
His voice startled his own men but a moment later the reply came back, "Aye, Captain."
Campbell had started out as a lad under Emerson's command years ago. He'd transferred to the Apollo's crew the previous summer, after he'd made lieutenant.
The boats drew up alongside the Odyssey and the rowers rested. Emerson looked down at the dirty and bedraggled group. "What's become of Captain Ellis, Lieutenant?"
Campbell's face was grim. "Dead, sir. He was injured when he ordered us to abandon ship before ramming the Wraith pirates to take them down."
Emerson was not surprised Ellis had gone down with his ship. He hadn't harbored particularly warm feelings toward the other captain, but he could respect that he'd done his duty.
"Captain sent us to the boats while Apollo was in the turn. We waited to be sure all the Wraith went to hell before making for the harbor," Campbell continued.
"Good lads," Emerson said, nodding approvingly. "We've taken out most of the Wraith ships and the harbor is secure. Not sure what's happening on shore but you should get yourselves there and report."
Campbell asked why the Odyssey was here at anchor and Emerson explained the cannon fire and the broken mast before sending them on their way with a warning to be wary of possible Wraith in the waters, and to approach shore carefully so as not to be mistaken for the enemy.
He had a moment of relief before there was a call from another quarter. He'd sent a small party of men to search the damaged Wraith ship listing nearby that had partially burned in the first wave of their assault. It would not sail again but Emerson wasn't keen on waiting here with a good hiding place for enemy pirates lurking off his starboard side.
Two of the men were rowing back and climbing aboard. The ensign looked disturbed as he nodded to Emerson. "Sir, we've found men aboard the ship still alive." He hesitated for a moment. "Captain, they're chained to the walls. Some of them burned to death when we attacked."
His throat tightened for a moment. The Wraith had taken all available fighters to the shore with them, which meant those left behind could be only one thing. "Slaves."
"Yes, sir."
"They're not armed, then?"
"No, sir." That explained the confusion. Any man caught on the ships holding weapons would be considered an enemy and shown no mercy. But it was against the code of arms to strike down a servant, especially if he was unarmed in battle.
Prisoners and slaves of the Wraith, though, were not mere servants. Ordinarily such laborers were required to serve the victors for a certain time in some capacity before being allowed freedom, if they were amenable and not deemed a threat.
The usual customs might not apply here, though, not if these men were forced to serve the Wraith against their will.
He debated for a moment. There was no telling what state of mind such men would be in. The Satedan prince had been eager to fight against his former captors but that did not mean all the others would think so. "Remove them from the ship and bring them to shore, but keep them bound."
"Sir?" His first officer looked shocked as did the ensign.
"We cannot be sure where the loyalty of such men may lie, gentlemen. We cannot afford the risk of having them free. Take them to shore under guard and ask what's to be done with them for now. And we'll have to search the other ships for survivors."
"Aye, sir." The lieutenant began to organize a group to see the prisoners back. Emerson stared at the hulk of the Wraith vessel for some time. Victory seemed determined to bring him fresh headaches to replace the previous ones.
*~*~*~*
From the top of the queen's tower, Jack and Daniel had split their men into small groups and sent everyone off into different directions. The lower levels of the castle were too difficult to search with so few, but they could at least ensure the towers were all secure. Jack didn't truly expect to find anything, but it would be inviting disaster not to check.
Jack chose for himself the path that went past the queen's chambers. He trusted John's account of events regarding the deaths of the Wraith who had reached this floor, and certainly after tonight he was more willing to extend some trust toward the Prince of Sateda, but he needed to verify that the tower was secure and no more Wraith were lurking anywhere near his wife.
As luck would have it, Sarah was coming out of the queen's chambers just as Jack came around the corner. Despite the aching in his body, his footsteps quickened at the sight of her. He was glad to have cast off his armor, for it meant he could wrap her in his arms as tightly as his weary limbs would allow. The two men with him moved further down the hallway and went around the next corner, leaving them in privacy for this moment.
"Sarah." He buried his face in the curve of her neck. She was clinging back just as tightly, fingers digging into his shoulders.
"I'm all right, Jack," she whispered, her lips brushing against his ear. The contact brought a fierce desire to life, and Jack drew back just far enough to kiss her. There were things he could never articulate with words, but even as tired as he was, he could never hide how grateful he was that she and their child were safe.
By the time he pulled away, his hands had fallen to rest against her belly. Jack pressed a little with one hand and felt the baby push back a moment later, a silent reassurance. "You need to get some sleep," he said. "Go to our chambers. I will join you as soon as I can, but -"
"Jack," Sarah interrupted. "Jack, I can't."
"Why not?" he said, suddenly alarmed. "You said you were-"
"I am fine," she said swiftly. "Laura is in labor."
For a moment, Jack thought of the little girl in braids who never lacked for daring and Sarah's statement was absurd. He had been happy to see Laura married and happy to see her expecting a child, especially after what had happened to her in Neill, but right now his mind was steadfastly refusing to believe that the young lady he'd pulled off the rigging of the Queen Margaret not long ago was on the other side of this door giving birth to a child of her own.
"Jack?" Sarah said, sounding concerned.
He shook his head quickly. "It's nothing. It's just..."
"I know," she replied, her hand caressing the back of his neck gently. "She grew up."
Jack nodded minutely, laying his hand over her belly again. It did not seem all that long ago that he had first taken Sarah to his bed. In another three months, the child they had conceived would be born. All too soon, that child would be crawling and talking and growing up, just like his son, and just like the three young women he had helped to raise.
Jack had learned long ago that there would never be enough time. But now, he did not wish for more. In the aftermath of the night, he prayed for the safety of his wife, of Laura, and of Elizabeth and Kate too.
"You will stay with her?" he asked, his voice sounding strange to his ears.
She nodded. "If you see Teyla, will you let her know? I know she has seen at least as many births as I have. The queen and Lady Katherine have been sent for, of course, but neither of them have the experience to be of much help if Laura has a difficult time of it."
Jack swallowed hard at Sarah's last few words, but he nodded again. After a swift kiss, he said, "I will find her."
As he was walking away, Sarah said, "And then you will rest?"
He looked over his shoulder at her. "I'll sleep when you sleep." At her exasperated expression, Jack could only smile.
*~*~*~*
Teyla could still feel the roughness and warmth of Ronon's hands long after they stepped out of the courtyard. This man, this prince of a people who no longer existed, had only been in her life for a few days but he had rattled her in every way. Everything about him was unprecedented in her eyes. He had been a prisoner of the Wraith and lived to tell the tale. She could not imagine the things he must have seen, or done to survive. He was utterly unlike any man she had ever known.
That did not entirely explain why she had kissed him. His touch while he wiped the blood from her face was ungentle, but not uncaring. He was fearless in battle yet fearful in society. He was both haunted and haunting, and Teyla had never been able to resist a paradox.
Sarah's summons was almost a relief. Although she was naturally concerned for Laura's well-being, Teyla was glad to have a few hours away from Ronon. She would not have much time to think about what had happened, however, as when she arrived Mistress Perna immediately put her to work.
Sarah was in need of rest, so Teyla took her place, supporting Laura in her pacing across the small room. Laura looked at the remaining blood on Teyla's face in alarm. "Teyla, are you quite all right?" she asked.
"You are hardly the one to ask such a thing now," Teyla teased. "I am fine. It was a minor blow. I inflicted much worse on its giver."
"I have no doubt," Laura replied.
They paused then, as one of the pains came. Teyla looked behind Laura to the midwife. "Lord Jonathan did not say how long this had been going on."
"Some hours," Perna replied.
On the other side of the room, Kate was sitting at a table writing something, but she looked up at that exchange. "I would still like to know how Elizabeth and I both missed the fact that it had started, Laura," she said, a little sourly.
"I myself was not entirely certain what was happening," Laura admitted. "And I kept falling asleep between the pains."
"I've seen such a thing many times, my lady," Perna assured her, as Laura and Teyla began walking again. "Let us be thankful that the battle will be long over by the time the baby arrives."
Laura nodded. Teyla had to agree.
After another contraction, Laura decided to sit down for a little while. Perna then sent Teyla and Kate to collect the birthing chair and the other things they would need before long. Her satchel and the chair had been tucked away in a corner of Carson's office, probably so no one would have to bring everything upstairs in a hurry.
The walk down the corridor was too quiet for Teyla's liking just now. It abruptly occurred to her that this must have been where Kate and Elizabeth had been attacked. Kate was looking nervously down the way. The bodies had been removed, but near the stairs there was blood on the floor.
"It must have been very frightening," Teyla said, trying to draw her friend out.
Kate shook her head. "It could not have been as terrifying as where you were."
"No, I think it would have been worse here," Teyla replied gently. "At least where I was, the Wraith were to be expected. And I was armed."
Kate rubbed her arm absently, as though she were cold. "I knew what I had to do and I did it," she said. "But had Prince Ronon and Lord John not come when they did, it would not have been enough."
"They did come, though, and there is no use in recriminations now."
Kate seemed to take a little comfort in that, and soon they were at their destination. It did not take them long to find what they had come for, but Kate looked nervous for some reason. "Kate?" Teyla said. "Is something wrong?"
The younger woman bit her lip for a moment. "Marcus and I have... reconciled. I think that is the proper way to describe it."
Teyla smiled almost immediately, surprised but immensely pleased. "How did this come about?"
"He came to me before the battle to tell me why he acted the way he did last year," Kate explained, resting her hands on the back of the birthing chair. "How he was mistreated by a woman he loved. Then after he was hurt, he told me that he still loves me, and that he would give anything for another chance."
It seemed the captain had finally taken the advice Teyla had given him at Solstice. "And you have given it to him."
"We have given it to each other. I was hardly blameless in what happened between us."
She still looked like something was bothering her, but this time Teyla merely waited. "Teyla, I - I am not quite sure how to ask you this," Kate began, "but - Marcus told me about his relationship with you."
Teyla looked down for a moment, hoping to hide her embarrassment. She would have been much happier if Kate had never found out about that, although she understood why Marcus would want to be completely honest on that score after all that had happened. "It was a long time ago, Kate," she said, hoping her friend would accept that as an explanation.
"I know. I cannot say I am happy about it, but it is not as though either - any of us could change it," Kate replied.
That much was true. Kate seemed to still be waiting for something so Teyla composed herself. "I did not love him, Kate, and neither did he love me. There is no reason for you to worry over it."
"No," Kate replied, shaking her head. "I am not... that is not what I was thinking, Teyla. I trust his feelings for me, and mine for him. I am not angry at you."
Teyla was not entirely sure that Kate was as sanguine about her history with Marcus as she claimed to be right now, but hopefully the ardent young man would be able to put any such thoughts out of her head swiftly and convincingly.
"There was something I wanted to ask you, though," Kate added.
Teyla braced herself. "Yes?"
Kate took a deep breath, her cheeks flushing. "Did you find - was it -" Finally she laughed at herself a little and met Teyla's gaze. "Was it satisfactory?"
That caught Teyla off-guard enough that she felt her face getting hot too. Her mind immediately flashed back to her encounter with Ronon and what her body had been craving from him. Kate probably thought she was embarrassed to be talking about her affair with Marcus, yet she could not give her friend anything less than an honest answer. Quietly, and smiling a little wickedly, she replied, "Very."
Kate's cheeks turned an even brighter shade of pink, but she looked pleased despite herself.
*~*~*~*
Marcus was able to talk one of the physicians into releasing him. Had Beckett been there, he likely never would have agreed, but this other doctor confirmed the wound to his shoulder was no longer really bleeding. Marcus promised to keep the sling in place and dressed himself, making good his escape before Carson could spot him.
His mind was reeling, which wasn't surprising in the aftermath of the battle and the ambush upstairs. Of course the thing that had him the most agitated had nothing to do with the Wraith. He wondered if he had dreamed Kate sitting at his bedside, confessing her love and kissing him in full view of half the world.
He approached the queen, who was watching him with a small smile on her face. Her amusement suggested he had in fact not been dreaming earlier. However there was something more serious to be spoken of, even though he wished dearly he could avoid it. Had there been more people about he would have waited, but only a few of his own men who had been injured in the fighting lingered near her now.
"My lady, are you all right?"
"It is only a sprain, Captain. You need not worry."
He shifted his weight uneasily. "It is my job to worry, Majesty. And I did not serve you well tonight."
Elizabeth's eyebrow went up and he saw anger in her eyes. "If you are referring to conspiring with one of my ladies-in-waiting to spirit me from the palace even after I expressly told you I would not leave, then no, you did not."
He swallowed. "No, my lady. I know you are unhappy with me but it was necessary. I needed to have a plan in place to get you safely out of here, if the worst had happened. I would have been derelict in my duty to not make those preparations." As events had unfolded, he had probably placed her in even more danger by persuading Kate to help him. Had the two of them stayed put, with a locked door between them and the Wraith, the queen would probably not have been harmed.
Elizabeth looked at him for a long moment, her expression serious but not quite as angry as before. At length she sighed. "I suppose I should not expect less of you than to plan for all contingencies. But do not ever keep such plans from me again, Captain."
He understood the rebuke and bowed. "Yes, my lady." He hesitated for a moment before adding, "Please do not blame Lady Katherine, Majesty. I persuaded her that she would need to act if I could not. I knew I could trust her should it come to that."
The queen shot him an exasperated look that quickly changed into an unsettling grin. "I believe I will refrain from inquiring precisely what methods you used to get Kate on your side."
His ears burned as his cheeks flushed. "Majesty."
Elizabeth covered her lips to hide her laughter. "Forgive me. I could not resist." Marcus cleared his throat, not sure what else to say. "For what is worth, Marcus, I am happy for you both."
"Thank you, my lady." He strongly desired to move the topic to something else. "Is there anything I can do for you?"
She sighed. "I am not going to be allowed to move until Dr. Beckett examines me, I know. Once he does, I will go upstairs to Laura."
That did not surprise him. "If you do not need me, I thought I would go out and view the aftermath of the fighting for myself. I may learn something useful."
"I fervently hope not, Captain," Elizabeth said ruefully. "If you could fetch me some water before you go, I would appreciate it."
He nodded and went to find clean water and a cup for her. Once he saw her settled again he did as he had said and went outside. The sun was up by now, though the fog was still obscuring everything. It was at least light enough to see without torches.
Had he walked this path a few hours earlier, the carnage would have been more evident. Now it was mostly blood stains and marks in the earth. The last of the fallen Atalanians were being carefully lifted from the ground and placed in carts to be taken for burial. Marcus noted a cart already heading slowly across the isthmus, probably carrying the Athosian dead back to the village. Lady Teyla would want her people buried there, rather than in a mass grave on the mainland. He made a mental note to tell her the cart had left when he saw her next.
He approached a group of men, including Pendergast, who was seated on an overturned barrel resting his leg, and Prince Ronon. They were looking at the haphazard pile of Wraith bodies lying near the water. The pirates had been searched for any valuables and their remains tossed carelessly aside, but Marcus knew they needed to be disposed of. Even in death, the Wraith could spread disease and misery.
"A couple of the Wraith ships are salvageable," Pendergast was saying. "The larger one could be repaired enough to be towed out to sea."
"You mean to pile the bodies on the ship and sink it?" one of the other officers asked.
"Burn it," Ronon said, in his usual abrupt fashion. Marcus was either more tired than he thought or he was growing used to the stranger's bluntness, because he merely nodded. He wanted the dead Wraith destroyed irrevocably, not from superstition but to put an end to the misery of the last week for good.
"I would not waste our labor or materials just to bury these scum," one of the sailors in the group put in, glaring at the dead Wraith.
"Better to patch a ship enough to sail half a league than risk poisoning the waters of Atalan with their ashes," Pendergast replied sharply.
That seemed to be the end of debate. Pendergast sent for McKay, who would arrive protesting at full volume, no doubt. Even the meager repairs needed to put the one ship to sea would take a few hours. Pendergast sighed, and Marcus debated whether to suggest the man go inside and see the physicians. It had already probably been brought up, though, and Marcus suspected it would only irritate the captain if he said anything.
Ronon broke the quiet instead. "You said two of the Wraith ships were salvageable?"
"Aye," Pendergast nodded, pointing toward the harbor. "The smallest one there. We didn't even see her in the night. I suspect they abandoned her entirely. No one was aboard when we searched. She's too small to haul many men or much cargo."
"So we'll use the larger vessel for the bodies?" Marcus asked.
"Yes. The Aurora can still sail. She can tow it out past the harbor to where the current picks up."
No one else spoke for a moment. Ronon was staring at the harbor, looking lost in thought when Pendergast spoke again. "We found men in some of the larger ships, chained to the walls."
The prince's head jerked and his body tensed. "Slaves," he said, nearly spitting the word. "Left behind during the fighting."
Lorne felt ill. "They were bound so they couldn't escape?" Ronon nodded. That meant on the ships that had burned or sunk, those men had been trapped, unable to save their own lives.
"What will be done with them?" Ronon asked the old captain.
The man shrugged helplessly. "They were unarmed, but they were on board ships classed as pirate vessels. It will likely be up to her Majesty's clemency whether they will be imprisoned or hanged."
The tall prince shifted unhappily at that news, but Marcus could not share his displeasure. Of course men bound as slaves should not pay for the crimes of their masters, but not all of them would be of sound mind anymore. The queen could not send such men out into the world where they might be a danger to others.
For the first time in some days, Marcus was grateful his only responsibility was the queen's safety.
The sound of McKay's voice echoed across the hill and he decided it was high time to be elsewhere. The prince followed him. He doubted the man had met McKay yet, but it probably made little difference.
They walked along the shore in silence for a minute. Finally Marcus drew in a breath, deciding that he might as well get this conversation over with now, as he had with the queen. "I wanted to thank you for what you did for her Majesty and Lady Katherine."
Ronon shrugged, absently digging at something in the earth with the tip of his sword. "It was lucky we arrived in time."
Marcus flinched at the reminder of his failure last night. "I'm aware of that," he said more stiffly than he intended.
Hostility flared in the taller man's eyes again. "And you realize that by standing out in the hall, you all but announced to the Wraith that something valuable was in there?"
His fingers clenched into a fist, which aggravated his shoulder. "I did not expect a small party to gain entrance. I assumed if the defenses collapsed, we would hear it. But if we were inside the room, we might not have known the castle had been compromised until it was too late to escape." He had been running this argument over in his head for several hours, but it still felt weak given how close the Wraith had come to the queen.
Ronon considered that for a minute. "You should have sent the queen away earlier."
Marcus rolled his eyes. "You do not know Queen Elizabeth, my lord." Not to mention Kate, or Laura, or Lady Sarah for that matter.
He thought Ronon's lips twitched at that. He hesitated slightly before answering, "The women here do seem damnably stubborn."
"I assure you, my lord, you don't know the half of it."
The tension between them faded, though Marcus knew he was going to be reliving the events of the last day for some time, in order to learn from his mistakes. To that end, he looked around at the scarred earth. "I wonder if you would be able to tell me what happened during the battle? I've yet to hear more than pieces." He would ask the captains for their accounts of the fighting on the water as well, but Captain Sumner had always believed in gaining as many points of view on events as possible, rather than trusting a single account.
Ronon looked surprised at his request. Not many people invited the man to talk at length on anything. But he nodded and pointed back down the shore, beyond the earthen barrier, where the Wraith ships had first landed, and began to speak.
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
Part 5
Part 6
The two older lords had taken a group of uninjured men, many of them archers, to search the palace for any more stray Wraith who might be lurking in the corridors. Ronon doubted any others had gotten through the lines, but it was probably wise.
That left Lady Teyla in charge below. After the last few hours, he no longer found that strange.
He followed when she went back outside, more to have something to do than for any other reason. The men remaining on the grounds were searching through the bodies, collecting their countrymen and systematically ensuring the Wraith were indeed dead. The fog had rolled in across the harbor by now, and even Ronon felt a chill as he glanced out toward the sea and saw only a wall of white that swallowed up the tops of Atlantis' towers.
Teyla was conversing with someone about disposing of the bodies. Ronon heard a noise coming from the harbor and stiffened, moving down toward the shore. Teyla followed a moment later, keeping her voice low. "What is it?"
"There are boats approaching," he replied in a similar tone. "They carry torches." The approaching ships were not trying to conceal their presence, which suggested they were not Wraith, but Ronon knew well enough to not take such a thing for granted.
Unfortunately, Teyla slipped past him and moved closer to the water. The short woman was stubbornly brave. He cursed internally and hurried to catch up.
They waited for a moment before the first of the rowboats came into view. The men inside were wearing the blue uniforms of Atalan's navy, but Ronon did not relax until one of the men hailed Teyla by name.
He was evidently a captain of one of the ships in the harbor. He was limping, his leg bleeding, and he stepped aside with Teyla and Ronon as the line of injured men moved slowly past them and up the incline to the gates, some carrying their comrades on stretchers.
"What news, Captain?" Teyla asked the other man.
"We have disabled or sunk all the Wraith ships, my lady. We lost the Tria and the Apollo along with the Destiny. The Odyssey is damaged and cannot maneuver at the moment. She lies near the harbor entrance."
Three ships, possibly four, was nearly half Atalan's navy, according to what Ronon had overheard, but it could have been much worse.
The captain indicated more wounded were coming from the ships and Teyla dismissed him to go see the physicians and have his injuries looked at. The man gave her an odd look at that and she raised an imperious eyebrow. "What is it, Captain?"
"Pardon me, my lady, but perhaps you should heed your own advice?" He nodded to her face, which was covered in dried blood along one side. She reached up and touched it as though she had forgotten she was even bleeding.
"In good time, sir," she told the officer, who was smart enough to scurry away.
Ronon was apparently not so intelligent, because he folded his arms. "He's right. You should see a doctor."
She glared at him. "Head wounds always bleed copiously. I am fine."
He planted his feet and wouldn't budge from her path. He cast about for a persuasive argument. "You're a mess. And you're probably scaring people."
Teyla stared up at him for a moment, and then her lips twitched in amusement almost in spite of herself. She sighed heavily. "Very well. The watch is set here if the alarm needs to be raised anyway."
He trailed after her as she headed back into the palace. It was slow going, as many people called to her, asking for information. She repeated the report of the navy's success several times before Ronon finally lost patience and caught her arm to steer her toward a seat near the buckets of water. She muttered something under her breath at him but didn't try to pull away.
But the water buckets were empty. One of the harried nurses turned a dark eye on Ronon when he inquired why. "We've had our hands full, haven't we? If you want to be useful, go refill some of them."
The woman rushed away to see to her next patient before either Ronon or Teyla could reply. When he turned to look at her, Teyla looked a bit shocked, though more so on her own behalf than his, he thought. She was accustomed to being addressed with deference, after all.
"I suppose we should make ourselves useful," she observed wryly, grabbing two of the water buckets. Ronon grabbed four more and followed her down a hallway that led into the castle. Torches were lit along the walls here, probably because people had been moving back and forth during the night, and in short order they came out in a small courtyard centered around a well. More torches burned here inside the metal sconces on the walls. Ronon set to work pulling up the bucket in the well and pouring the water into the other containers. Teyla shifted the full buckets out of the way without comment, but then abruptly when the last one was finished, she stepped away and sat down hard on the nearby stone bench.
He just barely caught himself before saying her name. "My lady?"
She grinned at him and shook her head. "That sounds almost strange coming from you."
He pushed aside his embarrassment. "What is wrong?"
Teyla rubbed absently at her face. "Nothing. I am just tired."
He could well understand that. The furor of the battle had subsided and his body was now protesting the strain of the last several hours. And he was more used to this type of punishment than a member of the Atalanian court.
He handed her one of the pieces of cloth he had grabbed in the infirmary before noticing there was no water. "Here. You might as well clean up out here in the peace and quiet."
She nodded at his chest. "So should you."
He glanced down, almost surprised to see the bloodstains on his tunic. He'd discarded his armor after rescuing the queen, but it had been fairly dark in the infirmary and he had not noticed the state of his clothing.
The armor had blocked most of the blows, but a few had gotten through and drawn blood. He hesitated for a fraction of a second before stripping the tunic off. Teyla had already seen the other scars on his body; it would not offend her to see them again.
In the torchlight he examined the wounds, but they were all fairly shallow and had ceased to bleed already. Only the cut on his arm was still seeping and he cleaned it hastily before wrapping another length of cloth around his arm.
He realized the silence had stretched and he looked up to find Teyla staring at him with an odd expression on her face. He wondered if she'd suffered any blows to the head - her eyes were glassy, probably from fatigue, but he'd seen men struck so and continue as if nothing had happened only to collapse some hours later.
She shook herself from her stupor, though. "Do you need a physician?"
"I've had much worse," he shrugged. The results of seven years of abuse by his captors were clearly visible on his skin.
Her gaze turned piercing. "Never again."
He stared back, his throat closing up. "Never again," he repeated, though it was barely a whisper. He turned away from her, looking across the courtyard. For so long his life had been lived moment to moment. Survival was the only thing that mattered. Every day he lived, he stole a victory from the filth who had destroyed his home and killed his family. When he grasped that the Wraith were organizing to strike at Atlantis, his sole purpose had become to escape and warn them, to prevent another island from falling to the Wraith. Death had been immaterial, as long as he survived long enough to deliver the message.
The Wraith were not entirely gone. Some remnants probably remained out on the seas. But the bulk of their forces lay dead and sinking outside. Atlantis was still standing, and Ronon was finally free.
He felt dizzy, and almost frightened. His heart seemed to thud against his ribs and his limbs shook. What would he do now? Where would he go? Ronon had not realized until that moment how absolute his expectation of death had been. It had never crossed his mind that the end of the Wraith would not mean his own end too.
A hiss drew his attention and he gladly focused on Teyla rather than his own panic. She was trying to clean off the dried blood and she had frozen in alarm. Evidently her injury was more painful than she had been willing to admit.
Without a mirror she also had done a poor job of cleaning the blood away.
He didn't bother asking permission. He straddled the bench and took the cloth from her hand, wetting it again and wringing it out before he began to wash her face. The blood had caked in a number of spots and he tried not to push too hard on Teyla's skin to get it loose.
She didn't speak, holding herself somewhat stiffly, but she did not bid him to stop. He preferred to focus on the task, so the only sound was the occasional ripple of the water or the echoes down the hallway.
The blood had gotten into her hair. Ronon pushed himself up and squinted in the flickering light. The actual cut was above her hairline. He sat back down. "You'll want to wash your hair."
She nodded and he noticed the blood ran all the way down her neck. Gingerly he reached out and tipped her chin up. Teyla realized what he was doing and she tilted her head back so he could finish wiping the mess off her throat.
Despite the chill in the air, her skin was warm, and his knee was pressed against her leg. Her eyes fluttered closed as he reached the base of her throat and he realized that underneath his fingertips he could feel her pulse.
A different sort of anxiety swept through him and he stilled, his fingers resting against her skin. Teyla craned her neck and looked up at him. This close he could mark her breathing and underneath the odors of blood and sweat, he could smell her. Suddenly he could think of nothing beyond the tiny space between them.
Her hand cupped his cheek and his eyes shut. He remembered her examining the injury to his back just a few days earlier, her touch warm but impersonal. This was not. Her hand was hot against his face and her fingers stroked along his jaw lightly. Goose bumps broke out on his arms.
Because his eyes were shut, he jumped when her lips brushed against his. He opened his eyes and found Teyla leaning very close. She still touched his cheek and she stared at him expectantly for a moment.
He had no idea what to do.
When he didn't move, she approached him again. This time he was expecting her kiss, but that made it no less strange.
Her lips moved against his slowly, and he realized she was exploring him. His pulse began to race for a new reason, and his hands reached for her waist without thought as he mimicked her actions. His lips parted, drawing in air, and as her arms wrapped around his neck, her tongue brushed against his.
Ronon shuddered, from pleasure this time, and opened his mouth, letting her in, and in a few heartbeats Teyla was exploring his mouth as thoroughly as she had his lips. Heat washed through him, but not the heat of rage or battle. It tingled along his spine and settled low in his belly. He pulled her closer, letting her have his mouth for long, luxurious moments. Teyla's hands dug into his shoulders, her nails pricking his skin slightly, and hunger flared through him.
He yanked and suddenly she was straddling his legs, her body flush against his bare chest. She was radiating warmth even through the layers of clothing between them. Ronon took control of the kiss. One of his hands tangled in her messy hair, gripping her tightly as his tongue moved frantically and with absolutely no finesse. Teyla didn't seem to mind based on the tiny sounds of pleasure she was making and the way her hands slid along his shoulders and his back eagerly. Distantly he knew this was wrong for some reason, that his hold on her was probably too strong, but the sensations in his body were so unfamiliar to him that it took several long seconds before he could rein himself in at all.
Her hands trailed up his neck and framed his face as the kiss slowed. When he would have pulled back, she chased after him, kissing him again. Ronon became aware that his body was reacting to the kisses and the feeling of her pressed against his chest and straddling his legs like this. He barely recognized it, after so many years.
If Teyla was aware of his condition, she gave no sign of it, but Ronon was feeling that sense of panic begin to well up again. He wasn't sure how he would react, had no idea what he was doing, so he gently but firmly set Teyla away from him, ending the kiss and moving her body to arm's length.
Her dark eyes were wide and almost apprehensive. On impulse he stroked one finger down the length of her neck. Her eyes closed for a moment and she sighed, and he had to fight the urge to drag her to him again. But too much had happened in a short period of time, and his own thoughts were so disordered, he hardly knew what he was doing.
His voice was rough when he finally spoke. "We should get back."
She watched him for a long moment, and he felt her taking his measure with a single look as she had several times already. He hoped she could see his confusion and understand it, but the woman was skilled enough at concealment - or perhaps his mind was too jumbled to tell - that he had no idea what she was thinking.
She merely nodded and backed away further. She swung her leg over the bench and stood, as did he. She picked up his tunic and tossed it right in his face with a smirk. "I suspect the shirt is ruined."
He tugged it over his head. "It wasn't really mine anyway," he responded in kind.
She picked up two of the full buckets, and he grabbed the remainder and followed her back to the infirmary. She did not look at him or comment further. Ronon would not have thought it possible, but he was actually even more unsettled now than he had been when they had come into the courtyard.
*~*~*~*
Fog had swathed the Odyssey in a white blanket, leaving the crew restless. Emerson took comfort from the growing quiet in the harbor which suggested the battle had indeed wound down. Some skirmish had taken place near the burning shipyards, but for now he remained on the deck and held in his questions. The injured crew were headed for the shore, but they had not lost nearly as many men as he had expected.
Meanwhile the ship remained at anchor, waiting as the last hours of the night waned.
One of the sentries he'd set in the stern signaled. The men were watching for any Wraith attempting to slip in boats out of the harbor, but the young man appeared puzzled as Emerson slipped into place alongside him. "Sir, a light out to sea," he murmured lowly.
Emerson squinted and indeed, he spotted first one glowing spot of yellow in the mist, then a second. Lantern lights from rowboats, it looked like. But the Wraith would not signal an approach so boldly, not after the last few hours.
Unless more ships were coming.
Emerson tensed and waved for his first officer. If another group of Wraith ships was bearing down on them, they were in very deep trouble.
The first of the boats came closer and the muffled silence of the dawn was broken. "Ahoy the ship!"
The first officer handed Emerson his spy glass and with some difficulty he trained it on the dark blur in the fog. A young man with light colored hair was waving from the bow of the row boat. He was wearing a blue uniform.
"Lieutenant Campbell?"
His voice startled his own men but a moment later the reply came back, "Aye, Captain."
Campbell had started out as a lad under Emerson's command years ago. He'd transferred to the Apollo's crew the previous summer, after he'd made lieutenant.
The boats drew up alongside the Odyssey and the rowers rested. Emerson looked down at the dirty and bedraggled group. "What's become of Captain Ellis, Lieutenant?"
Campbell's face was grim. "Dead, sir. He was injured when he ordered us to abandon ship before ramming the Wraith pirates to take them down."
Emerson was not surprised Ellis had gone down with his ship. He hadn't harbored particularly warm feelings toward the other captain, but he could respect that he'd done his duty.
"Captain sent us to the boats while Apollo was in the turn. We waited to be sure all the Wraith went to hell before making for the harbor," Campbell continued.
"Good lads," Emerson said, nodding approvingly. "We've taken out most of the Wraith ships and the harbor is secure. Not sure what's happening on shore but you should get yourselves there and report."
Campbell asked why the Odyssey was here at anchor and Emerson explained the cannon fire and the broken mast before sending them on their way with a warning to be wary of possible Wraith in the waters, and to approach shore carefully so as not to be mistaken for the enemy.
He had a moment of relief before there was a call from another quarter. He'd sent a small party of men to search the damaged Wraith ship listing nearby that had partially burned in the first wave of their assault. It would not sail again but Emerson wasn't keen on waiting here with a good hiding place for enemy pirates lurking off his starboard side.
Two of the men were rowing back and climbing aboard. The ensign looked disturbed as he nodded to Emerson. "Sir, we've found men aboard the ship still alive." He hesitated for a moment. "Captain, they're chained to the walls. Some of them burned to death when we attacked."
His throat tightened for a moment. The Wraith had taken all available fighters to the shore with them, which meant those left behind could be only one thing. "Slaves."
"Yes, sir."
"They're not armed, then?"
"No, sir." That explained the confusion. Any man caught on the ships holding weapons would be considered an enemy and shown no mercy. But it was against the code of arms to strike down a servant, especially if he was unarmed in battle.
Prisoners and slaves of the Wraith, though, were not mere servants. Ordinarily such laborers were required to serve the victors for a certain time in some capacity before being allowed freedom, if they were amenable and not deemed a threat.
The usual customs might not apply here, though, not if these men were forced to serve the Wraith against their will.
He debated for a moment. There was no telling what state of mind such men would be in. The Satedan prince had been eager to fight against his former captors but that did not mean all the others would think so. "Remove them from the ship and bring them to shore, but keep them bound."
"Sir?" His first officer looked shocked as did the ensign.
"We cannot be sure where the loyalty of such men may lie, gentlemen. We cannot afford the risk of having them free. Take them to shore under guard and ask what's to be done with them for now. And we'll have to search the other ships for survivors."
"Aye, sir." The lieutenant began to organize a group to see the prisoners back. Emerson stared at the hulk of the Wraith vessel for some time. Victory seemed determined to bring him fresh headaches to replace the previous ones.
*~*~*~*
From the top of the queen's tower, Jack and Daniel had split their men into small groups and sent everyone off into different directions. The lower levels of the castle were too difficult to search with so few, but they could at least ensure the towers were all secure. Jack didn't truly expect to find anything, but it would be inviting disaster not to check.
Jack chose for himself the path that went past the queen's chambers. He trusted John's account of events regarding the deaths of the Wraith who had reached this floor, and certainly after tonight he was more willing to extend some trust toward the Prince of Sateda, but he needed to verify that the tower was secure and no more Wraith were lurking anywhere near his wife.
As luck would have it, Sarah was coming out of the queen's chambers just as Jack came around the corner. Despite the aching in his body, his footsteps quickened at the sight of her. He was glad to have cast off his armor, for it meant he could wrap her in his arms as tightly as his weary limbs would allow. The two men with him moved further down the hallway and went around the next corner, leaving them in privacy for this moment.
"Sarah." He buried his face in the curve of her neck. She was clinging back just as tightly, fingers digging into his shoulders.
"I'm all right, Jack," she whispered, her lips brushing against his ear. The contact brought a fierce desire to life, and Jack drew back just far enough to kiss her. There were things he could never articulate with words, but even as tired as he was, he could never hide how grateful he was that she and their child were safe.
By the time he pulled away, his hands had fallen to rest against her belly. Jack pressed a little with one hand and felt the baby push back a moment later, a silent reassurance. "You need to get some sleep," he said. "Go to our chambers. I will join you as soon as I can, but -"
"Jack," Sarah interrupted. "Jack, I can't."
"Why not?" he said, suddenly alarmed. "You said you were-"
"I am fine," she said swiftly. "Laura is in labor."
For a moment, Jack thought of the little girl in braids who never lacked for daring and Sarah's statement was absurd. He had been happy to see Laura married and happy to see her expecting a child, especially after what had happened to her in Neill, but right now his mind was steadfastly refusing to believe that the young lady he'd pulled off the rigging of the Queen Margaret not long ago was on the other side of this door giving birth to a child of her own.
"Jack?" Sarah said, sounding concerned.
He shook his head quickly. "It's nothing. It's just..."
"I know," she replied, her hand caressing the back of his neck gently. "She grew up."
Jack nodded minutely, laying his hand over her belly again. It did not seem all that long ago that he had first taken Sarah to his bed. In another three months, the child they had conceived would be born. All too soon, that child would be crawling and talking and growing up, just like his son, and just like the three young women he had helped to raise.
Jack had learned long ago that there would never be enough time. But now, he did not wish for more. In the aftermath of the night, he prayed for the safety of his wife, of Laura, and of Elizabeth and Kate too.
"You will stay with her?" he asked, his voice sounding strange to his ears.
She nodded. "If you see Teyla, will you let her know? I know she has seen at least as many births as I have. The queen and Lady Katherine have been sent for, of course, but neither of them have the experience to be of much help if Laura has a difficult time of it."
Jack swallowed hard at Sarah's last few words, but he nodded again. After a swift kiss, he said, "I will find her."
As he was walking away, Sarah said, "And then you will rest?"
He looked over his shoulder at her. "I'll sleep when you sleep." At her exasperated expression, Jack could only smile.
*~*~*~*
Teyla could still feel the roughness and warmth of Ronon's hands long after they stepped out of the courtyard. This man, this prince of a people who no longer existed, had only been in her life for a few days but he had rattled her in every way. Everything about him was unprecedented in her eyes. He had been a prisoner of the Wraith and lived to tell the tale. She could not imagine the things he must have seen, or done to survive. He was utterly unlike any man she had ever known.
That did not entirely explain why she had kissed him. His touch while he wiped the blood from her face was ungentle, but not uncaring. He was fearless in battle yet fearful in society. He was both haunted and haunting, and Teyla had never been able to resist a paradox.
Sarah's summons was almost a relief. Although she was naturally concerned for Laura's well-being, Teyla was glad to have a few hours away from Ronon. She would not have much time to think about what had happened, however, as when she arrived Mistress Perna immediately put her to work.
Sarah was in need of rest, so Teyla took her place, supporting Laura in her pacing across the small room. Laura looked at the remaining blood on Teyla's face in alarm. "Teyla, are you quite all right?" she asked.
"You are hardly the one to ask such a thing now," Teyla teased. "I am fine. It was a minor blow. I inflicted much worse on its giver."
"I have no doubt," Laura replied.
They paused then, as one of the pains came. Teyla looked behind Laura to the midwife. "Lord Jonathan did not say how long this had been going on."
"Some hours," Perna replied.
On the other side of the room, Kate was sitting at a table writing something, but she looked up at that exchange. "I would still like to know how Elizabeth and I both missed the fact that it had started, Laura," she said, a little sourly.
"I myself was not entirely certain what was happening," Laura admitted. "And I kept falling asleep between the pains."
"I've seen such a thing many times, my lady," Perna assured her, as Laura and Teyla began walking again. "Let us be thankful that the battle will be long over by the time the baby arrives."
Laura nodded. Teyla had to agree.
After another contraction, Laura decided to sit down for a little while. Perna then sent Teyla and Kate to collect the birthing chair and the other things they would need before long. Her satchel and the chair had been tucked away in a corner of Carson's office, probably so no one would have to bring everything upstairs in a hurry.
The walk down the corridor was too quiet for Teyla's liking just now. It abruptly occurred to her that this must have been where Kate and Elizabeth had been attacked. Kate was looking nervously down the way. The bodies had been removed, but near the stairs there was blood on the floor.
"It must have been very frightening," Teyla said, trying to draw her friend out.
Kate shook her head. "It could not have been as terrifying as where you were."
"No, I think it would have been worse here," Teyla replied gently. "At least where I was, the Wraith were to be expected. And I was armed."
Kate rubbed her arm absently, as though she were cold. "I knew what I had to do and I did it," she said. "But had Prince Ronon and Lord John not come when they did, it would not have been enough."
"They did come, though, and there is no use in recriminations now."
Kate seemed to take a little comfort in that, and soon they were at their destination. It did not take them long to find what they had come for, but Kate looked nervous for some reason. "Kate?" Teyla said. "Is something wrong?"
The younger woman bit her lip for a moment. "Marcus and I have... reconciled. I think that is the proper way to describe it."
Teyla smiled almost immediately, surprised but immensely pleased. "How did this come about?"
"He came to me before the battle to tell me why he acted the way he did last year," Kate explained, resting her hands on the back of the birthing chair. "How he was mistreated by a woman he loved. Then after he was hurt, he told me that he still loves me, and that he would give anything for another chance."
It seemed the captain had finally taken the advice Teyla had given him at Solstice. "And you have given it to him."
"We have given it to each other. I was hardly blameless in what happened between us."
She still looked like something was bothering her, but this time Teyla merely waited. "Teyla, I - I am not quite sure how to ask you this," Kate began, "but - Marcus told me about his relationship with you."
Teyla looked down for a moment, hoping to hide her embarrassment. She would have been much happier if Kate had never found out about that, although she understood why Marcus would want to be completely honest on that score after all that had happened. "It was a long time ago, Kate," she said, hoping her friend would accept that as an explanation.
"I know. I cannot say I am happy about it, but it is not as though either - any of us could change it," Kate replied.
That much was true. Kate seemed to still be waiting for something so Teyla composed herself. "I did not love him, Kate, and neither did he love me. There is no reason for you to worry over it."
"No," Kate replied, shaking her head. "I am not... that is not what I was thinking, Teyla. I trust his feelings for me, and mine for him. I am not angry at you."
Teyla was not entirely sure that Kate was as sanguine about her history with Marcus as she claimed to be right now, but hopefully the ardent young man would be able to put any such thoughts out of her head swiftly and convincingly.
"There was something I wanted to ask you, though," Kate added.
Teyla braced herself. "Yes?"
Kate took a deep breath, her cheeks flushing. "Did you find - was it -" Finally she laughed at herself a little and met Teyla's gaze. "Was it satisfactory?"
That caught Teyla off-guard enough that she felt her face getting hot too. Her mind immediately flashed back to her encounter with Ronon and what her body had been craving from him. Kate probably thought she was embarrassed to be talking about her affair with Marcus, yet she could not give her friend anything less than an honest answer. Quietly, and smiling a little wickedly, she replied, "Very."
Kate's cheeks turned an even brighter shade of pink, but she looked pleased despite herself.
*~*~*~*
Marcus was able to talk one of the physicians into releasing him. Had Beckett been there, he likely never would have agreed, but this other doctor confirmed the wound to his shoulder was no longer really bleeding. Marcus promised to keep the sling in place and dressed himself, making good his escape before Carson could spot him.
His mind was reeling, which wasn't surprising in the aftermath of the battle and the ambush upstairs. Of course the thing that had him the most agitated had nothing to do with the Wraith. He wondered if he had dreamed Kate sitting at his bedside, confessing her love and kissing him in full view of half the world.
He approached the queen, who was watching him with a small smile on her face. Her amusement suggested he had in fact not been dreaming earlier. However there was something more serious to be spoken of, even though he wished dearly he could avoid it. Had there been more people about he would have waited, but only a few of his own men who had been injured in the fighting lingered near her now.
"My lady, are you all right?"
"It is only a sprain, Captain. You need not worry."
He shifted his weight uneasily. "It is my job to worry, Majesty. And I did not serve you well tonight."
Elizabeth's eyebrow went up and he saw anger in her eyes. "If you are referring to conspiring with one of my ladies-in-waiting to spirit me from the palace even after I expressly told you I would not leave, then no, you did not."
He swallowed. "No, my lady. I know you are unhappy with me but it was necessary. I needed to have a plan in place to get you safely out of here, if the worst had happened. I would have been derelict in my duty to not make those preparations." As events had unfolded, he had probably placed her in even more danger by persuading Kate to help him. Had the two of them stayed put, with a locked door between them and the Wraith, the queen would probably not have been harmed.
Elizabeth looked at him for a long moment, her expression serious but not quite as angry as before. At length she sighed. "I suppose I should not expect less of you than to plan for all contingencies. But do not ever keep such plans from me again, Captain."
He understood the rebuke and bowed. "Yes, my lady." He hesitated for a moment before adding, "Please do not blame Lady Katherine, Majesty. I persuaded her that she would need to act if I could not. I knew I could trust her should it come to that."
The queen shot him an exasperated look that quickly changed into an unsettling grin. "I believe I will refrain from inquiring precisely what methods you used to get Kate on your side."
His ears burned as his cheeks flushed. "Majesty."
Elizabeth covered her lips to hide her laughter. "Forgive me. I could not resist." Marcus cleared his throat, not sure what else to say. "For what is worth, Marcus, I am happy for you both."
"Thank you, my lady." He strongly desired to move the topic to something else. "Is there anything I can do for you?"
She sighed. "I am not going to be allowed to move until Dr. Beckett examines me, I know. Once he does, I will go upstairs to Laura."
That did not surprise him. "If you do not need me, I thought I would go out and view the aftermath of the fighting for myself. I may learn something useful."
"I fervently hope not, Captain," Elizabeth said ruefully. "If you could fetch me some water before you go, I would appreciate it."
He nodded and went to find clean water and a cup for her. Once he saw her settled again he did as he had said and went outside. The sun was up by now, though the fog was still obscuring everything. It was at least light enough to see without torches.
Had he walked this path a few hours earlier, the carnage would have been more evident. Now it was mostly blood stains and marks in the earth. The last of the fallen Atalanians were being carefully lifted from the ground and placed in carts to be taken for burial. Marcus noted a cart already heading slowly across the isthmus, probably carrying the Athosian dead back to the village. Lady Teyla would want her people buried there, rather than in a mass grave on the mainland. He made a mental note to tell her the cart had left when he saw her next.
He approached a group of men, including Pendergast, who was seated on an overturned barrel resting his leg, and Prince Ronon. They were looking at the haphazard pile of Wraith bodies lying near the water. The pirates had been searched for any valuables and their remains tossed carelessly aside, but Marcus knew they needed to be disposed of. Even in death, the Wraith could spread disease and misery.
"A couple of the Wraith ships are salvageable," Pendergast was saying. "The larger one could be repaired enough to be towed out to sea."
"You mean to pile the bodies on the ship and sink it?" one of the other officers asked.
"Burn it," Ronon said, in his usual abrupt fashion. Marcus was either more tired than he thought or he was growing used to the stranger's bluntness, because he merely nodded. He wanted the dead Wraith destroyed irrevocably, not from superstition but to put an end to the misery of the last week for good.
"I would not waste our labor or materials just to bury these scum," one of the sailors in the group put in, glaring at the dead Wraith.
"Better to patch a ship enough to sail half a league than risk poisoning the waters of Atalan with their ashes," Pendergast replied sharply.
That seemed to be the end of debate. Pendergast sent for McKay, who would arrive protesting at full volume, no doubt. Even the meager repairs needed to put the one ship to sea would take a few hours. Pendergast sighed, and Marcus debated whether to suggest the man go inside and see the physicians. It had already probably been brought up, though, and Marcus suspected it would only irritate the captain if he said anything.
Ronon broke the quiet instead. "You said two of the Wraith ships were salvageable?"
"Aye," Pendergast nodded, pointing toward the harbor. "The smallest one there. We didn't even see her in the night. I suspect they abandoned her entirely. No one was aboard when we searched. She's too small to haul many men or much cargo."
"So we'll use the larger vessel for the bodies?" Marcus asked.
"Yes. The Aurora can still sail. She can tow it out past the harbor to where the current picks up."
No one else spoke for a moment. Ronon was staring at the harbor, looking lost in thought when Pendergast spoke again. "We found men in some of the larger ships, chained to the walls."
The prince's head jerked and his body tensed. "Slaves," he said, nearly spitting the word. "Left behind during the fighting."
Lorne felt ill. "They were bound so they couldn't escape?" Ronon nodded. That meant on the ships that had burned or sunk, those men had been trapped, unable to save their own lives.
"What will be done with them?" Ronon asked the old captain.
The man shrugged helplessly. "They were unarmed, but they were on board ships classed as pirate vessels. It will likely be up to her Majesty's clemency whether they will be imprisoned or hanged."
The tall prince shifted unhappily at that news, but Marcus could not share his displeasure. Of course men bound as slaves should not pay for the crimes of their masters, but not all of them would be of sound mind anymore. The queen could not send such men out into the world where they might be a danger to others.
For the first time in some days, Marcus was grateful his only responsibility was the queen's safety.
The sound of McKay's voice echoed across the hill and he decided it was high time to be elsewhere. The prince followed him. He doubted the man had met McKay yet, but it probably made little difference.
They walked along the shore in silence for a minute. Finally Marcus drew in a breath, deciding that he might as well get this conversation over with now, as he had with the queen. "I wanted to thank you for what you did for her Majesty and Lady Katherine."
Ronon shrugged, absently digging at something in the earth with the tip of his sword. "It was lucky we arrived in time."
Marcus flinched at the reminder of his failure last night. "I'm aware of that," he said more stiffly than he intended.
Hostility flared in the taller man's eyes again. "And you realize that by standing out in the hall, you all but announced to the Wraith that something valuable was in there?"
His fingers clenched into a fist, which aggravated his shoulder. "I did not expect a small party to gain entrance. I assumed if the defenses collapsed, we would hear it. But if we were inside the room, we might not have known the castle had been compromised until it was too late to escape." He had been running this argument over in his head for several hours, but it still felt weak given how close the Wraith had come to the queen.
Ronon considered that for a minute. "You should have sent the queen away earlier."
Marcus rolled his eyes. "You do not know Queen Elizabeth, my lord." Not to mention Kate, or Laura, or Lady Sarah for that matter.
He thought Ronon's lips twitched at that. He hesitated slightly before answering, "The women here do seem damnably stubborn."
"I assure you, my lord, you don't know the half of it."
The tension between them faded, though Marcus knew he was going to be reliving the events of the last day for some time, in order to learn from his mistakes. To that end, he looked around at the scarred earth. "I wonder if you would be able to tell me what happened during the battle? I've yet to hear more than pieces." He would ask the captains for their accounts of the fighting on the water as well, but Captain Sumner had always believed in gaining as many points of view on events as possible, rather than trusting a single account.
Ronon looked surprised at his request. Not many people invited the man to talk at length on anything. But he nodded and pointed back down the shore, beyond the earthen barrier, where the Wraith ships had first landed, and began to speak.