Disclaimer: I don't own the stuff that belongs to other people. I do own the few things I made up.
A/N: Everyone's got to write one at some point in their fandom… You know, the obligatory story about Sheppard getting wound up in strangely plausible cultural wedding traditions.
Anyway, this is a short doodle in three parts that has been sitting around on my hard drive for the better part of forever, now. In it, I'm paying homage to the age-old theme of winning the princess's hand in marriage through heroic acts and Sheppard's unfortunate (?) habit of getting women to fall in love with him (and him caring right back) with a dash of parody and bodice-ripping romance novel, minus the bodice ripping, just for kicks. And it takes place sometime during the fifth season. Doesn't really matter when.
Poor Sheppard. Fic authors really are his worst enemy. Enjoy.
--
The Betrothal of John Sheppard
John Sheppard regarded the wall opposite him.
This, alas, was becoming an all too familiar situation: step through the Gate, have a little chat with the villagers, get in a fight, get kidnapped, get locked up, get betrothed to the eldest daughter of the local king. He was sick of it.
Why always him? Why not Rodney? or Ronon? Certainly probability didn't hate him that much.
He sighed and threw a pebble across his cell. Room. Whatever. A large comfortable bed, richly carved furniture, and nice drapes to block out the hot afternoon sun didn't change the fact that he was basically trapped here. He could leave his room if he so wished or even the wing, but he couldn't leave the large, stone palace, much less the planet. He had no idea where they had taken his friends, despite the fact they had all managed to retain their radios when their weapons were confiscated and had so far spent the day chatting and trying to ascertain their location. It wasn't going very well.
"So we've decided on the palace, then, right?" Sheppard was saying. That was as much as they had worked out.
"Or somewhere nearby," Ronon said with a grunt. "They wouldn't keep us where you could easily find us. We're on the grounds, though."
"Yes, you've said that," Rodney replied. "They want us where they can watch us but they don't want him to find us so we can leave. We've been over that."
Ronon's glare was evident even over the radio.
"Probably why they have someone following me whenever I leave my room," Sheppard said. It was another reason why he just stayed where he was.
"He might also be there to keep her out," Teyla said.
Sheppard thought about it for a moment. "That would make sense as to why she hasn't come for a visit. I wish other fathers had been so conscious about their daughters. Sort of." He didn't need to be presented with any situation that would result in his unwilling consent to the marriage, after all.
"Not what I wanted to know," came Rodney's groan. Ronon and Sheppard chuckled.
Their conversation then left the topic of their relative locations and became quite idle in nature. At length, Sheppard withdrew from it all together and just listened as he started to mull over possible escape plans on his own.
Unfortunately, his stomach had been speaking to him for the last hour, demanding food. He had been brought breakfast in his room that morning by a servant who wouldn't speak to him and had avoided the communal lunch with a lousy excuse that everyone seemed to buy. In hindsight, saying that he didn't feel well and couldn't possibly eat a bite had been a mistake seeing as they hadn't brought anything to his room to supplement the missed meal. He was forced to eat a PowerBar.
And now that teatime was approaching and all he had consumed that day besides the energy bar was some bread and a fruit that reminded him of a small cantaloupe, he was starving, but not sure he wanted to join Nareen, his betrothed, for tea, as had been suggested by the note that was slipped under his door about an hour after lunch. It smelled something like lilacs.
Now, Sheppard didn't like to think of himself as a bad guest for not answering his invitation to lunch; he much preferred the free-roaming-prisoner-who-was-going-to-enter-a-marriage-against-his-will take on things. He may have been given very few restrictions, but he was essentially imprisoned here. And because of that he wasn't in a very courteous mood and didn't much feel like eating with his captors.
So, he remained sitting against the wall until his stomach threatened to start eating itself and surrounding organs. Glancing at the large clock in the corner of his room, he stood, brushed off the seat of his trousers, and decided to meet Nareen after all. He didn't want to go but decided that if he didn't see her then she would eventually come see him, which could lead to a lot of trouble. Gracious as he was with the female attention he had received since coming to this galaxy, he didn't much care for it at the moment. In fact, he needed to come up with a way out of the wedding and fast; his walk down the aisle was scheduled for the next day.
They had only been on Vrschere for a day, he thought. All he had done was protect Teyla from some drunk and ask Nareen to call him by his first name.
He really needed to stop doing that.
"I'll talk to you guys later," he said into his earpiece as he started for the door; his vest lay abandoned on the bed. "I'm going to see Nareen and see if I can't talk my way out of this."
"Who?" Rodney asked.
"Who do you think, genius?"
"Oh, right. Good luck."
"Yes, good luck, Colonel," Teyla said.
"Thanks, guys."
He tucked the radio into his pocket.
--
Nareen looked up at him when he was led into her suite and smiled. He forced a similar expression and was sure it came off as a cheap imitation.
It wasn't that Nareen was hideous; she was quite the opposite, actually. Her hair was a dark auburn against freckled skin and her eyes shone blue whenever they caught the light. Though a little on the larger side due to her pampered upbringing, the extra roundness only made her shapely in all the right ways, a fact that was accentuated by the cut of her dress. And to be perfectly honest, Sheppard probably would have been attracted to her if the situation had been different. She was neither too tall nor too short and from their brief interactions, she seemed rather intelligent. He was just in the wrong place at the very wrong time.
"Hello, highness," he said, sounding far more confident than he felt. She smiled wider and gestured to the seat across from her.
"I trust you are feeling better, John?" she said as a servant poured them tea. "My father was quite disappointed that you couldn't make it to lunch. He has so many things he would like to ask you about. Flying, for one; it's his life ambition to build a machine that will soar through the air. You are a pilot, are you not?"
"Yeah," he said. Nareen picked up her teacup and saucer and watched him over the rim as she took a sip.
Tea had never really been his thing despite how his mother had insisted they spend Sunday afternoons when he was a boy. Because he had no sisters, his mother had briefly tried to instill some sense culture into him and his brother, with whom it had apparently taken. Sheppard, on the other hand, had been far more interested in sports and tadpoles and dirt like most other young boys to ever really pay attention to more than the cookies, so 'lessons in culture' did not last long in the Sheppard household. Too bad he could no longer use the excuse that the dog might try to eat his frog if he stuck around for too long.
One look at the assorted cakes and sandwiches, however, changed his mind about getting out of there as quickly as possible. Maybe this wouldn't be too bad, so long as he could get out of the marriage in the end. And have some food in the meanwhile.
Nareen's topic of conversation, however, didn't give him much assurance.
"I don't know how I can ever repay you for killing my betrothed," she said over the top of her cup. He choked on hot tea. "He was kind enough but murdered my previous betrothed in the most terrible fashion. No one ever told me whether or not they ever found Jorn's entire body."
Sheppard frowned. While he was glad Nareen wouldn't be marrying the man who had attacked Teyla, he didn't much like the reward he had received for it. He would have preferred a trade agreement.
Stupid Vrschen marriage traditions, he thought.
She went on. "Father was quite upset at the loss of Terren's wealth and influence to be sure, but he believes that your ability to control the obsolete technology will be a far greater asset to our house in the long run. He has plenty of money; what he doesn't have is an effective way to protect his people from the Wraith." She lifted her shoulders in a slight shrug. "Our scientists have determined that much of the ancestral technology is meant to defend the inhabitants of this world, though none of us have ever been able to use it."
"You don't have to marry me to receive the same kind of protection," he tried. "We have more than enough resources to offer as part of an alliance."
She shook her head and put the cup and saucer in her lap.
"The advantage of our marriage is that our children will presumably inherit your special abilities. Our people will be protected long after our deaths, John."
"Oh, yeah, right. That." Crap.
"You're not very happy with the situation." She frowned. "Think of it like this: My father wouldn't have chosen you to marry me after killing Terren if you hadn't anything to offer. In fact, you were very close to being tried for murder and put to death. I believe this is a reasonable alternative."
Sheppard lifted his brow; he hadn't known that. Maybe he should be a little more grateful.
Nah.
"You're a princess, right?"
"Yes."
"Doesn't that give you any sort of say in who lives and who dies?"
She looked at him for a moment and he could practically see the calculations running through in her head.
"No. However," she said just as he was about to protest, "the matter has been forgotten and his death has been written off as unfortunate, untimely, and as a matter of self-defense by the other party."
Sheppard frowned. He didn't like talking about the people he killed, especially not in such a straight forward manner. The other man had attacked Teyla and had to be dealt with. It was unfortunate that death had been involved.
And that was that.
"Look, can't we talk about something else?" he said. "You know, like the weather?"
Nareen tilted her head to one side. "Yes, of course. I just thought that you would like to know the facts behind your situation."
"No," he said, conceding somewhat, "I appreciate it. But isn't there anything you can do? You know, like call it off? Tell them you're disgusted by me, or something. Believe me, I won't be offended."
She shook her head. "Tradition dictates that if my betrothed is killed, I must marry the man who killed him. There are very few reasons a wedding won't take place and my father seems rather fond of you. I think he likes the idea of you the most."
"So there's no way I'm getting out of this?"
"It is unlikely, I'm sorry," she said. "But is it really so terrible?"
"To be forced into a marriage I don't want any part of? Yeah, it kind of is." He pushed at some bread crumbs. "What if I chose not to agree to the vows?"
"Vows?" she said with a slight laugh. "Nobility does not enjoy the same freedoms as our people."
He pressed his lips together. Of course not.
Her smile was sad, however, as she put her cup and saucer on the table between them. "I have about as much choice in the matter as you, I'm afraid. I loved the first man I was to marry and have despised all since him. They were each cruel enough to kill for my hand and that was reflected in how they treated me; you only killed Terren because a friend was in trouble and despite your reluctance to enter into the marriage, you are a good man. I must say that you remind me of the man I loved and that I am glad the cycle has ended with you. I'm not sure I would have survived any of the others in between."
Sheppard frowned as he watched her. Now he felt terrible. He hadn't said anything necessarily malicious, but certainly had been thinking terrible things.
"I'm sorry," he said slowly. Tears were glistening in her eyes as she turned away.
"You have nothing to apologize for. His death was far from your fault."
"I know, but ahh…" he said rather eloquently. Fighting the sudden urge to take her hand in comfort, he went on. "I know how it feels to lose someone you love and to have them…replaced by someone less. It hurts. A lot."
Sheppard furrowed his brow. He didn't like talking about his feelings and, besides that, he was lousy at it. That was the most articulate he had been about his mother in a long time.
And when Nareen reached for his hand across the small table, he didn't pull back. He just let her long fingers squeeze his and gave her a small smile for it. Then he laughed.
"Aren't we just a couple of sob stories."
"I'm sorry?"
"I think we could rival Bruce Wayne."
"Who?" Nareen looked even more confused.
"Never mind…" Sheppard looked around the room. "Let's go for a walk."
"I thought you were avoiding me," Nareen said.
Damn it. "What gave you that impression?"
"You were far too ill three hours ago to eat luncheon with my family, yet here you are suddenly feeling much better. Unless I'm mistaken, cake is not a remedy for nausea."
"But I'm with you," Sheppard pointed out. Nareen frowned.
"That is far from the point."
Sheppard just grinned.
--
It was hot outside, hotter than Sheppard would have guessed considering the coolness of the palace, and within minutes he was regretting his decision to wear his jacket. He quickly removed it. Holding it somewhat awkwardly over one arm, he shoved his hands in his pockets, still too warm for comfort. Nareen, on the other hand, seemed perfectly fine under her white parasol. She was even spinning it slowly as they walked.
It was late spring on Vrschere and the gardens around them were alive with colour. From a rose garden to the orchard of flowering fruit trees they were now entering, the landscaping was immaculate. Beyond a short garden wall to their right, the grounds extended as far as the eye could see, the land rolling away from the palace and ending in a distant forest. As they walked, small buildings would appear from behind a copse of trees or a hill that also hid a pond or larger lake. It made him think of the English countryside.
"If you're trying to use your gardens to convince me to stay," Sheppard said at length, "I've gotta tell you that it's not going to work."
"I wouldn't imagine doing anything of the kind," Nareen said, tilting her parasol to veil her face. It only made Sheppard curious about what she was hiding behind the ruffled fabric before cursing himself for being pulled into that trap. "Though it makes me suspicious about why you wanted to come out here."
"Fresh air."
"Hmm." Nareen peeked out at him. "I think you're looking for your friends."
His shrug was noncommittal. "I figured I might as well keep an eye out for them at least," he admitted. "You know, in case someone comes after me before tomorrow. I like being alive and they're generally a big help in that department."
Rolling the parasol to the other shoulder, Nareen shook her head. "My father has gone to great lengths to make sure no one will get to you."
"If you call being alone in a wooded area great lengths, then sure, I can see that. Thanks."
She clicked her tongue. "No one is ever alone, least of all in the grounds or in the palace."
"That's comforting." He glanced around. "I think."
"It is, actually. I have never had to fear for my life knowing that there are guards wherever I go," she said. Sheppard gave her a doubtful look. "You'll grow used to it in time."
"I'm a solitary kind of guy."
"Not anymore," she said. "You can't afford to be."
Sheppard frowned but didn't respond otherwise.
They fell silent as they went deeper into the flowering trees, a slight breeze blowing little pink petals around them. Some caught in Nareen's hair, the pink setting the red ablaze. He tried not to notice even as she pulled a small flower out of his hair and handed it to him, her lace-gloved fingers brushing his palm lightly.
He regarded the flower as she walked away, twirling it between two fingers as he thought about what to do with it. What he should do was throw it away and forget about it. What he was tempted to do was give it back. He didn't, though, knowing exactly what it would look like if he did.
Glancing up, Sheppard noticed Nareen watching him from where she stood several trees away. He wondered how long she had been standing there and shoved the flower into his pocket, looking away.
He really hated charming people sometimes. Like now.
"I believe you will make a good leader, John," she said once he caught up. "If you learn to care for the people of Vrschere as much as you do for the members of your team, they will want for nothing. And as a soldier you will have no qualms about protecting us from the Wraith. None of the others would have done this world so much good as you will."
He looked at her. "I hope you know I'm going to fight this for as long as I possibly can. And then some."
"From what little I know of you, I would be disappointed if you did any less. It's how I know you'll be good for us."
Nareen lowered her parasol, then, and closed it, looking at her dusty hem rather than at him. Though he wasn't sure why, Sheppard took a step closer and almost reached for her chin to tilt her face to his. He clenched the hand instead.
"I never thought I would be able to find happiness after Darrl was killed," she said. "You are, perhaps, the best thing that could have happened to us."
"Don't tell me that, Nareen," he said.
"I thought it best if you knew," she replied quietly.
Sheppard stopped himself from taking hold of her shoulders as if to shake some sense into her. He couldn't leave Atlantis. They needed him too much. He needed the city too much. It was the first place he could call home and mean it in a very long time.
But a small part of him was inexplicably beginning to want to stay, if only to protect her people. Maybe it was that damned hero he was becoming.
Somehow, Vrschere had managed to escape the Replicators and the spread of disease, but who knew what the future had in store for her people. If history had anything to say about it, the planet would become the convergence point for half a dozen hives, if not more. The population was vast and could easily feed a large number of Wraith, but no one knew when they would show up. It could be tonight. It could years from now. Whenever they came, however, he found that he wanted to be around to protect them. How could he wish ill on the woman who had saved his life and had shown him only kindness despite his hostility?
She titled her face to his. He allowed the proximity.
A twig snapped.
Jumping back, Sheppard scratched at his hair and looked towards the noise. It was Nareen's youngest brother, Korden, a boy of six.
"What are you playing, Nareen?" the boy asked.
"Nothing, honey," she said, not looking away from Sheppard for a long time. Turning, she held out her hand for Korden. "Just discussing grown-up things." She smiled at the child before turning back at Sheppard.
"Will you be joining my family for dinner tonight, John?"
He could barely find his voice, hating himself. "Yeah," he finally got out. "I'll be there."
"My father will be happy to see you."
He rubbed a hand over his jaw as the boy's governess appeared as well, unable to answer.
And as if suddenly shy in the presence of the older woman, Nareen opened her parasol and hid her face from Sheppard, but not before giving him a smile that could have meant any number of things.
"Bye!" little Korden said, waving exuberantly as Nareen led him away. Sheppard waved back.
Crap.