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TITLE: To Serve A Queen - Part Sixteen (of seventeen)
SUMMARY: There was a Queen in Gennii Territory again.
PAIRING: Liz/Ronan
RATING: R
NOTES: Such a lot of people who responded to the last post! Thanks for the chime-ins - esp to the SG-1 follow-overs. Yes, we are at the second-last chapter, and I'll post the last chapter in a few days. Resolution is at hand!
Part Fifteen
To Serve A Queen - Part Sixteen
This time, the terrace was marble-warm in the balmy sunset, instead of stone-cold by the scouring wind.
Ronan would have preferred the biting wind.
The Gennii were gone by midafternoon.
He didn't watch them leave, although he heard that Elizabeth, Caldwell, Beckett and McKay did. By that time, Teyla had woken up, and Elizabeth decreed that Sheppard should stay with her. Ronan guessed that it was as effective a way of protecting Teyla as it was of keeping Sheppard out of trouble.
There was enough trouble in Atlantis without adding Sheppard's temper to the mix.
Sora had requested an audience with the newly-awakened Ford and was granted it. Nobody knew what was said between them, but the young Queen emerged from the room struggling to keep her composure. She was gone within the hour.
Ford was gone from the estate a few hours later.
Rumours flew thick and fast: that the Queen had dismissed him, that he'd gone after Sora, that he'd slipped into the Twisted Kingdom - what the landens called madness - with the breaking. Nobody knew the truth - Ford had left without even speaking to his friends in the court. The only person who might know the truth was nowhere to be found.
Elizabeth was still on the estate, her First Circle knew that much. But exactly where...? That was more difficult to pinpoint.
Ronan knew where she was. He'd sensed her presence deep in the Red. She was out in the gardens - not the gardens where she'd held that audience almost a week ago, but another. It was small, walled-in, lushly green - and above all, quiet, peaceful, and solitary.
Somewhere to be alone.
Ronan understood that.
He needed time alone, himself.
He'd told Sora that things had changed between the time when he'd been willing to serve her and the time when she asked his service.
It confused him, dizzied him with the speed of his life's passing. So many things to adjust to, so many things to rearrange in his thinking.
Less than a day had passed between her informal and formal requests. In that time, his perspective had changed.
Seven days had passed since Elizabeth had taken him from Belka Territory. In that time, his life had changed.
He'd been bought from slavery to freedom. He'd looked for a Queen to serve only to be rejected. He'd seen the Gennii arrive and entertained service with Sora, only to reject it when she offered. He'd seen two men broken and two Territories barely hold back from war.
Earlier, in the house, someone had mentioned the tour around the Territory. From what was said, Ronan gathered it was going ahead anyway - something to take Elizabeth's mind from contemplation of Warlord Aiden Ford, from Sora of the Gennii, of Atlantis and Gennii Territories at war.
You should be able to find service to your satisfaction.
A bitter smile touched his lips.
He'd told Elizabeth that all he wanted was a Queen to serve - a witch he could serve with what he had and who he was. He'd hoped to find a Queen who didn't fear his strength, who would see him as a person rather than a thing, and who wouldn't use him beyond what he could bear. He'd spoken the truth.
What he hadn't said was that he'd found the Queen he wanted to serve.
Will you serve?
What he could tell was that the Queen he wanted to serve didn't want his service. And he wasn't so sure that he could bring himself to offer himself and face her rejection. The thought of her refusing him, with all kindness but distant and empty, taunted him and he shuddered.
No. Atlantis court was not for him. He would have to find service elsewhere.
"Are you also convinced that you could have stopped one part of what transpired here these last few days?"
He started at the tart words, acid in the golden sunlight. "No," he said as he turned to face the woman who'd come out onto the terrace, disguising her caste and nature as neatly as any hunter he'd known. "But then, I'm not a Black Widow capable of weaving a tangled web."
Ware the witches of the Hourglass coven, it was said. Still, in the last few days, Ronan had seen both the kind and the terrible in Teyla Emmagen of Atlantis, and didn't fear the terrible for the kindness. It was all about a balance of trust.
"Even Black Widows don't always see the whole picture," Teyla said with regret in her voice. "As I am witness."
"You did what you could."
"Not enough," she responded. "And yet, we do what we can and hope that it is enough."
He hadn't yet said this to anyone. "Everything has a price." The price of Sora's Virgin Night had been the breaking of both Ford and her father.
She looked at him. "Yes," she said sadly, leaning down on the balcony railing. "Everything has a price."
Ronan eyed her. She was clad in an odd overcoat of leather strips that were seamed together with strips of animal hide. It looked at once both oddly outlandish and yet very comfortable as she tugged it around her and lifted her face to the afternoon sun.
Two days ago, she'd been a hale and healthy witch, slim but solid. Now, she looked fragile, the bones of her closer to the surface, her skin a thin covering of the flesh beneath. She'd been burned out by the use of her Jewel, the injury done to her, and her body's need to heal.
And a Warlord Prince's first and final instincts were to protect the distaff gender.
"Should you be out of bed?"
The glare she shot him was as acid as her greeting. "Mind your own business, Prince."
Ronan grinned in spite of himself. "So Sheppard doesn't know you're out here?"
"And you should not tell him," Teyla said immediately. She shot him a sullen look. "The healing web has done its job. His fussing is unnecessary."
"Not to him," said Ronan. He imagined that the other Warlord Prince had a difficult time of it, persuading Teyla to let him pamper her even a little. Sheppard would relish the chance while it lasted.
The look she gave him was just short of a glare as she muttered, "And they wonder why Elizabeth has vanished."
"But you know where she is."
"As do you," she replied without hesitation. "But we are neither of us going to tell."
He eyed her. "You sound sure about that."
The gaze that she turned on him was both knowing and oddly innocent. "I am. A Queen's state of mind is at stake. I do not think you hold that lightly, Prince."
She was right.
"How is she?" He shouldn't ask.
"I do not hold my Queen's state of mind lightly either," she said. Ronan looked away. The question wasn't his to ask. He took a slow, deep breath, and was surprised when Teyla shifted, catching his eye again. This time, she was smiling slightly as she spoke. "If you wish to know how Elizabeth fares, then you should seek her out yourself."
In the silence after her statement, she tilted her head a little in query before she turned and started back towards the door.
Ronan tried to gather his scattered thoughts. The only thing he could think of to say was: "And interrupt a Queen's privacy?"
Teyla paused and turned her head enough that she could see him out of the corner of her eye. "There are many ways for Elizabeth to escape the notice of her court if she wishes true privacy. However, there are also times when one goes apart so that one may be found." Her cheek curved in a smile he couldn't quite see.
"The way you're waiting for Sheppard to find you?"
Now she turned enough for him to see the definite curve of her mouth. "Maybe," she said with a laugh before passing smoothly through the door to the library without touching the handle.
Ronan shook his head and wished Sheppard joy of the Black Widow. Infuriating woman.
In spite of her words, it took him a while to stir from the terrace.
You should seek her out yourself.
He wanted to. He could feel her anger and grief resonating faintly through her shields in the Red. His only hesitation was that he didn't want to go looking for her, only to be rejected again.
In the end, it came down to a choice between her needs and his fear. No choice at all, really. She was a Queen after all, and he was just a Warlord Prince.
The sun was touching the top of the trees when he went looking for Elizabeth, hoping that she really did want to be found.
--
The garden was small and old and she'd found it just after her parents' deaths. Cleaning it up herself bit by bit had been cathartic at a difficult time, and if the gardeners knew where it was, they didn't tell her court.
Elizabeth came here when she needed solitude, uninterrupted by anyone.
She needed solitude now.
A small stream of water trickled into the pond, swirling in a black-green current around the basin before trickling out into the woods through a channel that passed out through the wall. The liquid sound gave her something to concentrate on, something to fill her ears and occupy her mind.
More than anything, the Queens and their courts exemplify the core of the Blood: service with honour, trust with protection, nurturing with love. Destroy that and we destroy each other.
Aiden was gone. She'd said all the things she could think to say, and he'd sat as silent and unlaughing as he'd never been before.
Broken. The term meant the inner web - a witch or Blood male's psychic strength, defined by the darkness of the Jewel they wore.
Looking at Aiden, Elizabeth had found the term frighteningly apt. Broken in web, broken in spirit - Aiden wouldn't even meet her gaze when she tried to talk to him. It was as though he was someone else entirely, a far cry from the mischievous young man she'd taken into her court.
It wasn't until she'd fallen silent, with nothing more to say, that he'd looked up at her. The fear in his expression stung like a needle in her flesh - but even that fear didn't hurt as much as his words.
"Lady, it was an honour to serve you."
He'd stood, bowed once, pressed something into her hand, and left.
She lifted her hand and watched the Purple-Dusk Jewel pendant gleam dully in the growing shadows of the evening. Aiden had left it with her - a testament to what he'd been and never would be again.
Elizabeth grieved.
The wind lightly rustled the leaves of the ornamental maple that grew in the corner of the garden as the evening breeze passed through. The garden itself was well-shaded by the giant oak that in the next courtyard and the tall trees at the edge of the woods, and the plants she'd grown here had been chosen for their ability to grow in shade.
It was a good garden for thinking in, a good garden to escape to.
She knew John was looking for her, although his frustration eased after a
little while and Elizabeth supposed he'd found Teyla after the witch escaped her sickroom. She hoped Teyla was letting him fuss - if nothing else, it would give Elizabeth some space from her First Escort. She could feel Carson's concern but he wasn't yet worried, and Stephen was quietly fretting over her absence but he understood she needed time and space.
If they knew of her sanctuary, at least they didn't bother her when she was here.
Not so for Ronan Dex.
She heard his bootsteps on the courtyard pavings of the next garden before he appeared at the opening in the crumbling brick wall. She'd set a spell on the wall, so it would appear solid to a lighter Jewel, and overgrown with the roses that twined themselves thickly over the lintel of the opening.
Ronan didn't wear a lighter Jewel.
So much for sanctuary.
"Lady."
"Prince." Elizabeth refused to look around as he paused in the entrance to the garden, taking in the grassed area. "Don't you know when not to disturb a Queen?"
Her snappish retort didn't disturb him; instead, he crossed the grass, treading with all the delicacy of a cat, and sat down on the bench beside her, facing in the opposite direction. "Evidently not."
She resented his presence - he was close enough that the scent of him in her nostrils was unavoidable and her body tried to respond to it.
In the midst of the chaos of the Gennii departure and the loss of a loyal Warlord from her court, it was both embarrassing and trivial to react to him so ardently. Yet she did.
To distract herself, she curled her fingers around the pendant and spoke. "I should have seen this coming. I should have guessed that Tyrus would take measures."
"Even Teyla only guessed at part of it."
She looked up then. "Teyla's not the Queen."
"No," he agreed.
There seemed to be nothing to say to him. Then the Purple-Dusk pendant gleamed in her lap and she began speaking.
"I remember the day John brought him to my notice," she said. She'd only just set up her court and was reviewing the applicants with the help of her newly-appointed First Circle. "He was twenty, and nervous at being presented to me, but once he became more comfortable, he cracked a few jokes..."
John had presented the dark-skinned young Warlord in the privacy of her office, and Aiden had been a little intimidated at first, but swiftly began to warm to the others. And they had warmed to him - even Carson, who had found Aiden's cocky assurance irritating.
She stared at the Jewel in her hand. "I should have protected him better."
The males served and their Queen protected them. A delicate balance, but one worth preserving. The responsibility went both ways - a fact that the witches in Belka and the males in Gennii seemed to have forgotten.
It had been her responsibility to protect Aiden, and she had failed - if she'd been more vigilant, more wary, more careful with him, then Tyrus would never have reached him and his inner web would never have been broken.
"How?"
His question broke into her guilt and she took a moment to gather her thoughts and answer him.
"I knew Tyrus was angry--"
"But not that he would break Ford."
"Teyla saw it. I should have paid more attent--"
"She saw a broken inner web. That's all." Out of the corner of her eye she saw Ronan turn towards her, crooking his leg on the bench "Look at it like that and she should have paid more attention. She is the one with Hourglass training."
Anger was immediate and fiercely protective, a surge of defence against his implied criticism of one of her First Circle. "Teyla did what she could - visions aren't her strength. And I'm the Queen." That made it her responsibility.
"You're only responsible for the behaviour of your own court, Lady." He said, almost as though he'd picked up on her thought. Which was possible - they both wore the Red, and she wasn't used to shielding, but she wasn't leaking her thoughts either. "Aiden Ford behaved according to Protocol."
"And the Gennii didn't?" She wished she hadn't laid out the challenge, his rejection of Sora only too clear in her mind. The service he'd hoped for hadn't been to his satisfaction. Elizabeth regarded him sharply. "Is that why didn't you go with Sora?"
She was angry and she didn't know why. On behalf of the young witch? At the young witch for not being the Queen Ronan had been seeking?
It confused her.
He stared at a point somewhere between them for a while, long enough for her to wonder if she'd said too much. "I hoped to find a Queen worth serving," he said at last. "Here in Atlantis, in Gennii Territory - wherever I could find someone who would respect my strength. Not just use me for her own ends."
His yearning had been obvious enough. What she didn't understand was why he'd given up on service in Gennii Territory. He'd seemed very intent on it only a few days ago.
"Sora's young. She could have learned--" She stopped when he shook his head.
"Should have trusted my instincts," he said at last. "They were right."
Elizabeth wanted to ask what instincts those were but didn't dare. As it was, there was a resignation in him at odds with the stubborn, angry slave he'd been only a week ago, at odds with the determination of the last few days, seeking a Queen to serve. It was as though the fire had dimmed within him, banked for the moment.
She was sorry he wouldn't find the service he wanted - at least, not with Sora. But there were other Queens and other courts who would take his service the instant he offered. "You'll find service elsewhere," she said, instinctively reaching out to touch him on the hand and wondering why he flinched at her words. "Teyla was right - any of the Province Queens would be glad to have you in their court--"
Her fingers touched his skin and she was caught up in a complex web of emotions, transmitted through the Jewels they wore.
Aching hunger and trembling turmoil resonated through the Red, from his inner web to hers. She felt the way his senses stirred, rousing when she touched him, a response she han't expected.
His fingers closed around her wrist, gentle but inexorable. She wouldn't get them off short of using Craft - and she didn't want to. Not against him.
"You never answered my question last night."
She looked up at him, startled and disoriented by his response. "What? Which question?"
"You bought my contract from Heleri," he said. Elizabeth watched as his eyes scanned her face, watching for even the slightest cues. "Five hundred gold marks for a male who wasn't of your court, who didn't serve you - who didn't like you."
I couldn't leave you there. A Warlord Prince yearning for something more, denied it in a Territory that was willing to use his hard cock, but not allow him the comfort and protection he'd craved. Elizabeth would no more willingly have left him there than she would chop off her own hand.
"You wanted freedom," she said, huskily.
"So did another thousand slaves in Belka." Ronan watched her. "You bought my contract."
He was fishing for something. Elizabeth narrowed her eyes. "Do you want me to say that it was because I was attracted to you? Is that what you're waiting for?" Her words had more bitchiness than she'd intended, but it was said.
"No," he said after a moment. "But it helps."
"Ronan," she began, then stopped. This was so embarrassing. "Prince Dex--"
"I prefer Ronan."
"You would." She took a deep breath. "You don't owe me anything."
"This isn't about owing anything." The fingers that encircled her wrist didn't relent.
Between the look he was giving her and the hunger she could feel resonating through the Red web from him to her...
She wished she could be sure that her own desire wasn't feeding back to him. That wouldn't be fair to him - yet another Queen who only wanted him in her bed.
Except you don't only want him in your bed, she thought to herself behind the privacy of her own personal barriers.
Do you think that will matter to him?
Elizabeth sighed at her warring thoughts. The simplest explanation was probably the best one. "You're responding to the Queen who gave you your freedom back, Prince - nothing more."
If it was hard to meet his eyes as she said that, it was harder to think as he tugged on her wrist, pulling her towards him.
He exerted no undue force. Elizabeth knew that if she pulled back, he would let her go.
She didn't pull back.
Something in her will was broken - as broken as Aiden, as broken as Tyrus. She gave no resistance as he drew her into his lap and settled her against his thigh.
Elizabeth knew she should protest, knew she should stop this, but the warmth of the body that curved protectively towards her was intoxicating in its proximity. It had been a while since she'd last had a lover.
Desire strained her self-control as he brushed his lips through the curls of her hair until his mouth hovered by her ear. "So why are you responding to me?"
Elizabeth quivered and knew he felt it, too. This close, with both of them wearing the Red, and after such turmoil of the day, there was no hiding her own craving. And she owed him the truth. "Because I haven't had a steady lover in two years," she said at last. "And you're male, and handsome, and attractive." Her laughter caught in her throat, bitter with her own anger and guilt. "What witch wouldn't respond to that?"
"You could have any male in your court."
Despair took her like a storm.
She'd told Aiden that she could give him protection and he'd ended up broken.
She'd told Ronan that she wouldn't use him the way they had in Belka and what was she doing now?
Her own bitterness formed the words before she could censor them. "Why would I want any man when I could have a Warlord Prince trained as a pleasure slave?"
Anger blossomed along the Red, flaring in the dark of his eyes. She'd meant him to be hurt, and he was. But he was also hungry, and the hunger didn't abate at her words. Instead, it sharpened, found a focus, and she felt the resolve crystallise within him.
He wanted to give her something - needed to repay his debt. Elizabeth could feel that as clearly as she could feel his hand on her wrist, his cheek against her hair.
"Then use me."
Elizabeth caught her imagination before it could provide her with graphic images of him touching her, tasting her, moving in her... The ache thrust through her, sharp and sweet. "No."
"Why not?"
"Because you're not a slave to be used that way!"
"And if I offer it?"
She turned and looked at him over her shoulder, trying to make him understand. "I didn't bring you out of Belka for that, Prince."
"Maybe not," he said. A moment later, she shivered as his hand ran lightly along her thigh, and felt the corresponding quiver in his own body. "I still offer it,"
If Elizabeth was fighting desire, so was he. And beyond desire, her psychic senses were telling her that every pore of him, every instinct was urging his total and unconditional surrender.
The hunger wasn't hers alone.
With that knowledge, her own instincts wanted to accept that surrender, to take it with both hands and promise it protection and honour - the response of a Queen to the submission of a male.
What chance did Elizabeth have against the need of a Warlord Prince?
You can't take this, she reminded herself, desperate. He doesn't understand that there is no debt between you.
Slowly, inch by inch, she regained control over her emotions, reining them in with brutal efficiency. And finally, she looked into his face, mere inches away. It took a lot of courage to meet his gaze. "You don't owe me anything, Prince."
Something like regret tinged his words. "Honest desire?"
"You don't owe me that, either."
There was nothing between them. Nothing that he needed to repay her, nothing that she could give him that was untainted.
In spite of the shortcomings of Gennii Territory, maybe it would have been best if Ronan had gone with them. But the service was his, and so, too, must the choice be.
Ronan didn't look away.
Instead, he lifted one finger to her mouth, touching the corner and stroking the tip along the curve of her lower lip as he said. "You have it anyway."
Elizabeth looked into the long-lashed eyes regarding her with such dark intensity. Honest desire. Sexual submission. The erotic possibilities quivered within her, blossoming like buds on the tree with the coming of spring.
She could sense the truth of it in their connection through the Red web. He was making sure she was feeling the truth of it. There were no debts between them, just the chord that need struck between them in resonating hunger.
He would let her use him, would allow her to have this much of him, purely for desire's sake.
Anything more, she would have to earn.
The choice was hers.
She kissed the tip of his finger in answer.
Yes.
--
to Part Seventeen
SUMMARY: There was a Queen in Gennii Territory again.
PAIRING: Liz/Ronan
RATING: R
NOTES: Such a lot of people who responded to the last post! Thanks for the chime-ins - esp to the SG-1 follow-overs. Yes, we are at the second-last chapter, and I'll post the last chapter in a few days. Resolution is at hand!
Part Fifteen
To Serve A Queen - Part Sixteen
This time, the terrace was marble-warm in the balmy sunset, instead of stone-cold by the scouring wind.
Ronan would have preferred the biting wind.
The Gennii were gone by midafternoon.
He didn't watch them leave, although he heard that Elizabeth, Caldwell, Beckett and McKay did. By that time, Teyla had woken up, and Elizabeth decreed that Sheppard should stay with her. Ronan guessed that it was as effective a way of protecting Teyla as it was of keeping Sheppard out of trouble.
There was enough trouble in Atlantis without adding Sheppard's temper to the mix.
Sora had requested an audience with the newly-awakened Ford and was granted it. Nobody knew what was said between them, but the young Queen emerged from the room struggling to keep her composure. She was gone within the hour.
Ford was gone from the estate a few hours later.
Rumours flew thick and fast: that the Queen had dismissed him, that he'd gone after Sora, that he'd slipped into the Twisted Kingdom - what the landens called madness - with the breaking. Nobody knew the truth - Ford had left without even speaking to his friends in the court. The only person who might know the truth was nowhere to be found.
Elizabeth was still on the estate, her First Circle knew that much. But exactly where...? That was more difficult to pinpoint.
Ronan knew where she was. He'd sensed her presence deep in the Red. She was out in the gardens - not the gardens where she'd held that audience almost a week ago, but another. It was small, walled-in, lushly green - and above all, quiet, peaceful, and solitary.
Somewhere to be alone.
Ronan understood that.
He needed time alone, himself.
He'd told Sora that things had changed between the time when he'd been willing to serve her and the time when she asked his service.
It confused him, dizzied him with the speed of his life's passing. So many things to adjust to, so many things to rearrange in his thinking.
Less than a day had passed between her informal and formal requests. In that time, his perspective had changed.
Seven days had passed since Elizabeth had taken him from Belka Territory. In that time, his life had changed.
He'd been bought from slavery to freedom. He'd looked for a Queen to serve only to be rejected. He'd seen the Gennii arrive and entertained service with Sora, only to reject it when she offered. He'd seen two men broken and two Territories barely hold back from war.
Earlier, in the house, someone had mentioned the tour around the Territory. From what was said, Ronan gathered it was going ahead anyway - something to take Elizabeth's mind from contemplation of Warlord Aiden Ford, from Sora of the Gennii, of Atlantis and Gennii Territories at war.
You should be able to find service to your satisfaction.
A bitter smile touched his lips.
He'd told Elizabeth that all he wanted was a Queen to serve - a witch he could serve with what he had and who he was. He'd hoped to find a Queen who didn't fear his strength, who would see him as a person rather than a thing, and who wouldn't use him beyond what he could bear. He'd spoken the truth.
What he hadn't said was that he'd found the Queen he wanted to serve.
Will you serve?
What he could tell was that the Queen he wanted to serve didn't want his service. And he wasn't so sure that he could bring himself to offer himself and face her rejection. The thought of her refusing him, with all kindness but distant and empty, taunted him and he shuddered.
No. Atlantis court was not for him. He would have to find service elsewhere.
"Are you also convinced that you could have stopped one part of what transpired here these last few days?"
He started at the tart words, acid in the golden sunlight. "No," he said as he turned to face the woman who'd come out onto the terrace, disguising her caste and nature as neatly as any hunter he'd known. "But then, I'm not a Black Widow capable of weaving a tangled web."
Ware the witches of the Hourglass coven, it was said. Still, in the last few days, Ronan had seen both the kind and the terrible in Teyla Emmagen of Atlantis, and didn't fear the terrible for the kindness. It was all about a balance of trust.
"Even Black Widows don't always see the whole picture," Teyla said with regret in her voice. "As I am witness."
"You did what you could."
"Not enough," she responded. "And yet, we do what we can and hope that it is enough."
He hadn't yet said this to anyone. "Everything has a price." The price of Sora's Virgin Night had been the breaking of both Ford and her father.
She looked at him. "Yes," she said sadly, leaning down on the balcony railing. "Everything has a price."
Ronan eyed her. She was clad in an odd overcoat of leather strips that were seamed together with strips of animal hide. It looked at once both oddly outlandish and yet very comfortable as she tugged it around her and lifted her face to the afternoon sun.
Two days ago, she'd been a hale and healthy witch, slim but solid. Now, she looked fragile, the bones of her closer to the surface, her skin a thin covering of the flesh beneath. She'd been burned out by the use of her Jewel, the injury done to her, and her body's need to heal.
And a Warlord Prince's first and final instincts were to protect the distaff gender.
"Should you be out of bed?"
The glare she shot him was as acid as her greeting. "Mind your own business, Prince."
Ronan grinned in spite of himself. "So Sheppard doesn't know you're out here?"
"And you should not tell him," Teyla said immediately. She shot him a sullen look. "The healing web has done its job. His fussing is unnecessary."
"Not to him," said Ronan. He imagined that the other Warlord Prince had a difficult time of it, persuading Teyla to let him pamper her even a little. Sheppard would relish the chance while it lasted.
The look she gave him was just short of a glare as she muttered, "And they wonder why Elizabeth has vanished."
"But you know where she is."
"As do you," she replied without hesitation. "But we are neither of us going to tell."
He eyed her. "You sound sure about that."
The gaze that she turned on him was both knowing and oddly innocent. "I am. A Queen's state of mind is at stake. I do not think you hold that lightly, Prince."
She was right.
"How is she?" He shouldn't ask.
"I do not hold my Queen's state of mind lightly either," she said. Ronan looked away. The question wasn't his to ask. He took a slow, deep breath, and was surprised when Teyla shifted, catching his eye again. This time, she was smiling slightly as she spoke. "If you wish to know how Elizabeth fares, then you should seek her out yourself."
In the silence after her statement, she tilted her head a little in query before she turned and started back towards the door.
Ronan tried to gather his scattered thoughts. The only thing he could think of to say was: "And interrupt a Queen's privacy?"
Teyla paused and turned her head enough that she could see him out of the corner of her eye. "There are many ways for Elizabeth to escape the notice of her court if she wishes true privacy. However, there are also times when one goes apart so that one may be found." Her cheek curved in a smile he couldn't quite see.
"The way you're waiting for Sheppard to find you?"
Now she turned enough for him to see the definite curve of her mouth. "Maybe," she said with a laugh before passing smoothly through the door to the library without touching the handle.
Ronan shook his head and wished Sheppard joy of the Black Widow. Infuriating woman.
In spite of her words, it took him a while to stir from the terrace.
You should seek her out yourself.
He wanted to. He could feel her anger and grief resonating faintly through her shields in the Red. His only hesitation was that he didn't want to go looking for her, only to be rejected again.
In the end, it came down to a choice between her needs and his fear. No choice at all, really. She was a Queen after all, and he was just a Warlord Prince.
The sun was touching the top of the trees when he went looking for Elizabeth, hoping that she really did want to be found.
--
The garden was small and old and she'd found it just after her parents' deaths. Cleaning it up herself bit by bit had been cathartic at a difficult time, and if the gardeners knew where it was, they didn't tell her court.
Elizabeth came here when she needed solitude, uninterrupted by anyone.
She needed solitude now.
A small stream of water trickled into the pond, swirling in a black-green current around the basin before trickling out into the woods through a channel that passed out through the wall. The liquid sound gave her something to concentrate on, something to fill her ears and occupy her mind.
More than anything, the Queens and their courts exemplify the core of the Blood: service with honour, trust with protection, nurturing with love. Destroy that and we destroy each other.
Aiden was gone. She'd said all the things she could think to say, and he'd sat as silent and unlaughing as he'd never been before.
Broken. The term meant the inner web - a witch or Blood male's psychic strength, defined by the darkness of the Jewel they wore.
Looking at Aiden, Elizabeth had found the term frighteningly apt. Broken in web, broken in spirit - Aiden wouldn't even meet her gaze when she tried to talk to him. It was as though he was someone else entirely, a far cry from the mischievous young man she'd taken into her court.
It wasn't until she'd fallen silent, with nothing more to say, that he'd looked up at her. The fear in his expression stung like a needle in her flesh - but even that fear didn't hurt as much as his words.
"Lady, it was an honour to serve you."
He'd stood, bowed once, pressed something into her hand, and left.
She lifted her hand and watched the Purple-Dusk Jewel pendant gleam dully in the growing shadows of the evening. Aiden had left it with her - a testament to what he'd been and never would be again.
Elizabeth grieved.
The wind lightly rustled the leaves of the ornamental maple that grew in the corner of the garden as the evening breeze passed through. The garden itself was well-shaded by the giant oak that in the next courtyard and the tall trees at the edge of the woods, and the plants she'd grown here had been chosen for their ability to grow in shade.
It was a good garden for thinking in, a good garden to escape to.
She knew John was looking for her, although his frustration eased after a
little while and Elizabeth supposed he'd found Teyla after the witch escaped her sickroom. She hoped Teyla was letting him fuss - if nothing else, it would give Elizabeth some space from her First Escort. She could feel Carson's concern but he wasn't yet worried, and Stephen was quietly fretting over her absence but he understood she needed time and space.
If they knew of her sanctuary, at least they didn't bother her when she was here.
Not so for Ronan Dex.
She heard his bootsteps on the courtyard pavings of the next garden before he appeared at the opening in the crumbling brick wall. She'd set a spell on the wall, so it would appear solid to a lighter Jewel, and overgrown with the roses that twined themselves thickly over the lintel of the opening.
Ronan didn't wear a lighter Jewel.
So much for sanctuary.
"Lady."
"Prince." Elizabeth refused to look around as he paused in the entrance to the garden, taking in the grassed area. "Don't you know when not to disturb a Queen?"
Her snappish retort didn't disturb him; instead, he crossed the grass, treading with all the delicacy of a cat, and sat down on the bench beside her, facing in the opposite direction. "Evidently not."
She resented his presence - he was close enough that the scent of him in her nostrils was unavoidable and her body tried to respond to it.
In the midst of the chaos of the Gennii departure and the loss of a loyal Warlord from her court, it was both embarrassing and trivial to react to him so ardently. Yet she did.
To distract herself, she curled her fingers around the pendant and spoke. "I should have seen this coming. I should have guessed that Tyrus would take measures."
"Even Teyla only guessed at part of it."
She looked up then. "Teyla's not the Queen."
"No," he agreed.
There seemed to be nothing to say to him. Then the Purple-Dusk pendant gleamed in her lap and she began speaking.
"I remember the day John brought him to my notice," she said. She'd only just set up her court and was reviewing the applicants with the help of her newly-appointed First Circle. "He was twenty, and nervous at being presented to me, but once he became more comfortable, he cracked a few jokes..."
John had presented the dark-skinned young Warlord in the privacy of her office, and Aiden had been a little intimidated at first, but swiftly began to warm to the others. And they had warmed to him - even Carson, who had found Aiden's cocky assurance irritating.
She stared at the Jewel in her hand. "I should have protected him better."
The males served and their Queen protected them. A delicate balance, but one worth preserving. The responsibility went both ways - a fact that the witches in Belka and the males in Gennii seemed to have forgotten.
It had been her responsibility to protect Aiden, and she had failed - if she'd been more vigilant, more wary, more careful with him, then Tyrus would never have reached him and his inner web would never have been broken.
"How?"
His question broke into her guilt and she took a moment to gather her thoughts and answer him.
"I knew Tyrus was angry--"
"But not that he would break Ford."
"Teyla saw it. I should have paid more attent--"
"She saw a broken inner web. That's all." Out of the corner of her eye she saw Ronan turn towards her, crooking his leg on the bench "Look at it like that and she should have paid more attention. She is the one with Hourglass training."
Anger was immediate and fiercely protective, a surge of defence against his implied criticism of one of her First Circle. "Teyla did what she could - visions aren't her strength. And I'm the Queen." That made it her responsibility.
"You're only responsible for the behaviour of your own court, Lady." He said, almost as though he'd picked up on her thought. Which was possible - they both wore the Red, and she wasn't used to shielding, but she wasn't leaking her thoughts either. "Aiden Ford behaved according to Protocol."
"And the Gennii didn't?" She wished she hadn't laid out the challenge, his rejection of Sora only too clear in her mind. The service he'd hoped for hadn't been to his satisfaction. Elizabeth regarded him sharply. "Is that why didn't you go with Sora?"
She was angry and she didn't know why. On behalf of the young witch? At the young witch for not being the Queen Ronan had been seeking?
It confused her.
He stared at a point somewhere between them for a while, long enough for her to wonder if she'd said too much. "I hoped to find a Queen worth serving," he said at last. "Here in Atlantis, in Gennii Territory - wherever I could find someone who would respect my strength. Not just use me for her own ends."
His yearning had been obvious enough. What she didn't understand was why he'd given up on service in Gennii Territory. He'd seemed very intent on it only a few days ago.
"Sora's young. She could have learned--" She stopped when he shook his head.
"Should have trusted my instincts," he said at last. "They were right."
Elizabeth wanted to ask what instincts those were but didn't dare. As it was, there was a resignation in him at odds with the stubborn, angry slave he'd been only a week ago, at odds with the determination of the last few days, seeking a Queen to serve. It was as though the fire had dimmed within him, banked for the moment.
She was sorry he wouldn't find the service he wanted - at least, not with Sora. But there were other Queens and other courts who would take his service the instant he offered. "You'll find service elsewhere," she said, instinctively reaching out to touch him on the hand and wondering why he flinched at her words. "Teyla was right - any of the Province Queens would be glad to have you in their court--"
Her fingers touched his skin and she was caught up in a complex web of emotions, transmitted through the Jewels they wore.
Aching hunger and trembling turmoil resonated through the Red, from his inner web to hers. She felt the way his senses stirred, rousing when she touched him, a response she han't expected.
His fingers closed around her wrist, gentle but inexorable. She wouldn't get them off short of using Craft - and she didn't want to. Not against him.
"You never answered my question last night."
She looked up at him, startled and disoriented by his response. "What? Which question?"
"You bought my contract from Heleri," he said. Elizabeth watched as his eyes scanned her face, watching for even the slightest cues. "Five hundred gold marks for a male who wasn't of your court, who didn't serve you - who didn't like you."
I couldn't leave you there. A Warlord Prince yearning for something more, denied it in a Territory that was willing to use his hard cock, but not allow him the comfort and protection he'd craved. Elizabeth would no more willingly have left him there than she would chop off her own hand.
"You wanted freedom," she said, huskily.
"So did another thousand slaves in Belka." Ronan watched her. "You bought my contract."
He was fishing for something. Elizabeth narrowed her eyes. "Do you want me to say that it was because I was attracted to you? Is that what you're waiting for?" Her words had more bitchiness than she'd intended, but it was said.
"No," he said after a moment. "But it helps."
"Ronan," she began, then stopped. This was so embarrassing. "Prince Dex--"
"I prefer Ronan."
"You would." She took a deep breath. "You don't owe me anything."
"This isn't about owing anything." The fingers that encircled her wrist didn't relent.
Between the look he was giving her and the hunger she could feel resonating through the Red web from him to her...
She wished she could be sure that her own desire wasn't feeding back to him. That wouldn't be fair to him - yet another Queen who only wanted him in her bed.
Except you don't only want him in your bed, she thought to herself behind the privacy of her own personal barriers.
Do you think that will matter to him?
Elizabeth sighed at her warring thoughts. The simplest explanation was probably the best one. "You're responding to the Queen who gave you your freedom back, Prince - nothing more."
If it was hard to meet his eyes as she said that, it was harder to think as he tugged on her wrist, pulling her towards him.
He exerted no undue force. Elizabeth knew that if she pulled back, he would let her go.
She didn't pull back.
Something in her will was broken - as broken as Aiden, as broken as Tyrus. She gave no resistance as he drew her into his lap and settled her against his thigh.
Elizabeth knew she should protest, knew she should stop this, but the warmth of the body that curved protectively towards her was intoxicating in its proximity. It had been a while since she'd last had a lover.
Desire strained her self-control as he brushed his lips through the curls of her hair until his mouth hovered by her ear. "So why are you responding to me?"
Elizabeth quivered and knew he felt it, too. This close, with both of them wearing the Red, and after such turmoil of the day, there was no hiding her own craving. And she owed him the truth. "Because I haven't had a steady lover in two years," she said at last. "And you're male, and handsome, and attractive." Her laughter caught in her throat, bitter with her own anger and guilt. "What witch wouldn't respond to that?"
"You could have any male in your court."
Despair took her like a storm.
She'd told Aiden that she could give him protection and he'd ended up broken.
She'd told Ronan that she wouldn't use him the way they had in Belka and what was she doing now?
Her own bitterness formed the words before she could censor them. "Why would I want any man when I could have a Warlord Prince trained as a pleasure slave?"
Anger blossomed along the Red, flaring in the dark of his eyes. She'd meant him to be hurt, and he was. But he was also hungry, and the hunger didn't abate at her words. Instead, it sharpened, found a focus, and she felt the resolve crystallise within him.
He wanted to give her something - needed to repay his debt. Elizabeth could feel that as clearly as she could feel his hand on her wrist, his cheek against her hair.
"Then use me."
Elizabeth caught her imagination before it could provide her with graphic images of him touching her, tasting her, moving in her... The ache thrust through her, sharp and sweet. "No."
"Why not?"
"Because you're not a slave to be used that way!"
"And if I offer it?"
She turned and looked at him over her shoulder, trying to make him understand. "I didn't bring you out of Belka for that, Prince."
"Maybe not," he said. A moment later, she shivered as his hand ran lightly along her thigh, and felt the corresponding quiver in his own body. "I still offer it,"
If Elizabeth was fighting desire, so was he. And beyond desire, her psychic senses were telling her that every pore of him, every instinct was urging his total and unconditional surrender.
The hunger wasn't hers alone.
With that knowledge, her own instincts wanted to accept that surrender, to take it with both hands and promise it protection and honour - the response of a Queen to the submission of a male.
What chance did Elizabeth have against the need of a Warlord Prince?
You can't take this, she reminded herself, desperate. He doesn't understand that there is no debt between you.
Slowly, inch by inch, she regained control over her emotions, reining them in with brutal efficiency. And finally, she looked into his face, mere inches away. It took a lot of courage to meet his gaze. "You don't owe me anything, Prince."
Something like regret tinged his words. "Honest desire?"
"You don't owe me that, either."
There was nothing between them. Nothing that he needed to repay her, nothing that she could give him that was untainted.
In spite of the shortcomings of Gennii Territory, maybe it would have been best if Ronan had gone with them. But the service was his, and so, too, must the choice be.
Ronan didn't look away.
Instead, he lifted one finger to her mouth, touching the corner and stroking the tip along the curve of her lower lip as he said. "You have it anyway."
Elizabeth looked into the long-lashed eyes regarding her with such dark intensity. Honest desire. Sexual submission. The erotic possibilities quivered within her, blossoming like buds on the tree with the coming of spring.
She could sense the truth of it in their connection through the Red web. He was making sure she was feeling the truth of it. There were no debts between them, just the chord that need struck between them in resonating hunger.
He would let her use him, would allow her to have this much of him, purely for desire's sake.
Anything more, she would have to earn.
The choice was hers.
She kissed the tip of his finger in answer.
Yes.
--
to Part Seventeen
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