Disclaimer: I do not own Stargate but no copyright infringement is intended. I do not own the series characters. I make no profit, naturally. Well, I guess you know the drill by now.

A/N: This is the beginning of a story I dedicate to the most amusing System Lord ever. And Cliff Simon as Ba'al so rocks!

A/A/N I finally have finished Sam&Ba'al video and quite pleased with the result, so for those who interested - the link is in the profile.

Best laid plans

I tried so hard and got so far

But in the end

It doesn't even matter

I had to fall, to loose it all

(Linkin Park, In the End)

"My Lord," his First Prime speaks, genuflected before the throne chair dais, head half-bowed in a gesture of reverence, "you are victorious. Camulus' forces ceased to exist. He himself is detained and awaits your judgment."

"Avidan*," the System Lord currently occupying a seat of power says eyeing his Jaffa benevolently and gives a satisfied nod. "You have done well."

"Avidan," the whole room echoes as his slaves repeat the praise lowering their heads.

"Shall I bring him before my God's eyes?" Ar'tak ventures, a golden mark on his forehead that has been molded into the living flesh glimmers in a torch light as he lifts his head to look up at his master.

"Why, and deprive him of a pleasure enjoying his knew accommodation so soon?" The Goa'uld's lips twitch in wry amusement. "That wouldn't be so courteous now, would it?"

He stands, adjusting his long brown richly gold-donned cloak with a practiced grace and walks off the dais, stopping in front of his knelt servant.

"I shall visit him myself. A good host ought to make sure his guest has it best."

His low chuckle vibrates trough the air, an innuendo he has implied is blatantly obvious, but of course no one dares to share the jest; Gods may do what cattle may not.

The First Prime rises and gestures to others Jaffa be ready escort their master. As the System Lord leaves the chamber they form a defensive perimeter; two guards precede him, another pair keeps behind. He also shows Ar'tak to walk by his side - a token of the current favour.

"Are there any Camulus' Jaffa yielded to our dominance?" he asks as they walk down the mothership long passage heading towards the prison block, his tone changed completely from previous mocking amusement to all-business.

"We have plenty of those, my Lord. All surrenders were spared, just like you ordered."

"Camulus is going to be beside himself," the right corner of his master's mouth tugs upwards at the thought. "Although, what he had expected I would never know; it was painfully obvious from the very beginning that our victory had been inevitable."

"My Lord's strategy is always as flawless as his tactics uncommon. Our adversary, however…"

"Do not forget yourself," the displeasure of the Goa'uld's tone makes his Jaffa flinch. "You are not to judge a God, however not bright he may be."

"Forgive me, my Lord, I meant no disrespect. I merely was saying that Lord Camulus' battle tactics were obviously no match to yours."

"Well, there is that, of course." The System Lord makes a vague gesture with his left hand and a gem of the kara-kesh on his palm sparks merrily. "You're pardoned. Now, about these Jaffa…"

As a panel door slides open, Camulus raises his head to meet a sigh of his capture's disgustedly pleased face. He stands abruptly only to be met with sounds of charged staff weapons already aimed at him.

"You will pay for this dearly!" he snaps, agitated and frightened at the same time.

"Kree*, Jaffa." The other System Lord drops casually and the staff points are immediately lifted upwards.

He folds his hands over the chest then, his head cocked to the left, eying the Goa'uld before him cheerfully.

"Come now, Camulus, there is no need to get too… exited." The last one word comes as a chuckle.

"The High Council will suffer no more of your impertinence," Camulus retorts haughtily. "You are to be crashed in no time."

He would really like to believe his own words. Alas, the System Lord currently standing in front of him with that maddening smirk of his, suddenly proved to be more then any of them had ever anticipated. So, his threats are pretty much hollow right now and judging from the amused expression of the said Lord he knows it well, too. But that's how the game played within their kind, and so he ventures further.

"Even with the scraps of Anubis' former power you are no match for our combine forces. Release me now or…"

"Or what," the other one lifts his eyebrow, "you are to be avenged greatly? Please, Camulus, no one cares what happens to a looser, that's how it works. We both aware of that, so spare me rhetorics."

"What are you going to do with me?" Camulus' tone is wary and the tension in his posture is rather transparent.

"Well, now we are talking," the captor says sounding fairly satisfied and one loud snap of his long fingers sends all Jaffa out. With a soft whoosh the panel shuts back.

Some things are bound to be kept just between the Gods.

"Sit," the System Lord orders when they are alone and takes a few steps forward, eyes flashing with white-gold light. "I have a proposition for you."

As the prison door opens Jaffa snap to attention. From the expression his master wears when he leaves the ward, Ar'tak knows immediately that everything went according to his wish. Nothing new here, really - his Lord tends to have things his way more often than not, despite the odds.

Sokar could've said something on the matter indeed, would he still be alive.

"Take several Jaffa that former of Camulus' - the less worthy ones, of course - and have a vessel prepared. Our guest leaves us," he says and even his flange rumbles with satisfaction.

"My Lord," the First Prime quires and shows his willingness to carry out his master's orders at the same time.

Even his robes sweeps triumphantly as the System Lord half-turns to the Jaffa and flashes a sly grin as they leave the area.

"I feel rather charitable today."

"As you wish,"' Ar'tak inclines his head, giving up of understanding what his God has plotted this time. "Shall I prepare Lord Camulus' Ha'tak*?"

"Charitable I said, not wasteful." The Goa'uld utters with a mild irritation. "Tel'tak* will have to do just fine."

He lays sprawled on the enormously-sized bed covered with the aureate silken sheets, naked - the bed-clothing makes a fine contrast with his tanned skin, as he knows well - hands folded behind his head. The low ramble of pleasure occasionally escapes his throat as a Lo'taur* Shallan works her mouth on him.

She is very good at what she does - otherwise she wouldn't be here - and very willing to serve her God if moaning sounds she somehow manages being very much mouthful at the momentis of any indication. Usually he finds her ministrations quite enjoyable and it not takes that much time at all for him to reach a peak.

It is not working now.

He is still too much absorbed into current events to achieve a required state of relaxation and let her bring him to climax, and there is not even near enough power in this act that would lead to the sameachievement.

Domination, that's what he wants.

"Stop," he says and she complies at once, her lips leave him with a wet obscene squelch, eyes immediately become startled and worried that she somehow displeased him.

He sits, propping at his palms, and gives the Lo'taur scrutinizing look. She is petite and delicate, with the short light hair and big grey-blue eyes. In a way, she reminds him some piece of art - a porcelain statuette, perhaps. Nipples of her small breasts are taut dark buds now because of arousal and she wets her lips unconsciously as his eyes moves lower, stopping at the juncture of her legs.

She is young, pretty and absolutely nothing worth mentioning otherwise, really. No challenge at all. But one can not expect that from a Tau'ri female.

Still, her looks will have to do in addition to her pleasure-giving skills.

"On your fours," he issues a command and yet again she complies without hesitation, turning gracefully into ordered position.

He moves up, kneels behind the Lo'taur and places his palms on her narrow hips giving the right one casual stroke before slamming in without probing if she is ready; he doesn't have to.

She is dripping wet and deliciously tight. Her inner walls start clenching immediately, applying even more pressure the moment his member fills her. He drives into her hard and fast, eyes half closed, head thrown backwards, hips pound relentlessly.

Her muted soft sobs of pleasure do nothing to add to his own, rapidly building now, but the thought that his has her just as he had Camulus today on the battlefield, and then again, later, when he bent the other System Lord to his will and made him dance to his tune, well now, that does it.

His breathing hitches, eyes start glowing and fingers dig into the Lo'taur's hips with a force near enough to leave bruises; his movements become jerky. Shallan responses with a ragged half-sobbing half-moaning litany, knowing only too well how close he is and obviously devastated at the prospect have it happened too soon.

"Please, ah, please, more" she chants, panting, "please, my God!"

The neediness of her supplication, the power he wields - to give her what she desires now so desperately or not - it almost pushes him over the edge.

It takes some certain amount of self-control to prolong his trusts until she utters one last wordless cry and shudders. Only when her inner walls start collapsing, milking his cock vigorously, does he let it go and comes violently, his loud flanged groan almost physically fills a bedchamber.

He stays still just for a few seconds, savoring the feeling of content, of conquest, knowing it won't last long. There are always plans to be laid and moves to be made for him to indulge in dwelling on some moment, however pleasant the feeling might be.

The System Lord pulls out giving Lo'taur's bottom a mild smack and stretches comfortably on the sheets whilst she climbs off the bed and then returns this instant with a golden bowl of warm water and soft piece of closing.

"That was adequate," he says as Shallan cleans him thoroughly in gentle practiced moves, being very careful of water not wetting the sheets. "I am pleased."

"It is always an honor to serve a God," she makes one last sweep of closing over his body. "And my Lord was the most kind to me today."

His eyes lit up with amusement, rich multi-tonal carries a note of teasing when he speaks.

"Charitable, yes."

She sets the basin aside and tugs the sheet upwards, covering him.

"Shall I stay with my Lord further?"

"You shall not." He closes his eyes completely, his breathing slow and relaxed. "I will not require your services any time soon. You are to leave now."

He falls asleep even before she is gone.

The sound of the door-panels sliding open wakes him immediately. He blinks at the light coming through the opening, eyes adjusting quickly to the contrast between its brightness and comfortable dusk of the bedchamber.

"Kel shak*?" he snaps in irritation when recognizes the Lotaur's small frame. "Have I told you not…"

"My Lord", she interrupts and he sits abruptly, right hand reaching to the headboard-shelf where among other things lays a zat'nik'tel*.

Not only never in her life had she dared to do such an unthinkable thing, to cut in when he is speaking, but never had he heard such a horror in her voice too, until now.

He is not gentle. He knows that the fear might be and often is useful. He never hesitates to take drastic measures if there is a necessity. He is exacting, very much so. He rules with a firm hand because that's how things get done. But, unlike many others of his kin, he takes no pleasure in inflicting terror on lesser ones. He sees it as a sigh of weakness he has no desire to indulge in.

Shallan is terrified to death.

He stares narrow-eyed, zat' pointed at the entrance, as two dark unnaturally tall figures step in and then freeze at both side of the entrance. Orak*. Little good his weapon does him then, yet he lowers it not. The Lo'taur rushes to the bed as if seeking refuge and kneels beside it as close to him as possible.

He thinks briefly where exactly did it go wrong and which one of the other System Lords was able to lay his hands on this particular sweet piece of Anubis' legacy when he could not. And what undoubtedly ridiculous demands Orak's new master is going to make.

"What is the meaning of this?" he vocalizes a sheer irritation only for he cannot afford to show any lack of self-confidence.

All questions are answered when a fully cloaked deep-hooded figure slowly flows in.

"Anubis," he utters trough the clenched teeth; a feeling of the déjà vu is almost overwhelming.

"It would be appropriate for you to stand before your Lord," low hollow rumble comes under the cowl.

"Mack tal shree!*"

The Kull warriors lift their weapon-hands pointing them at him.

"Only if I allow for this to be so," a menacing reply comes. "Choose now."

He knows when he is overpowered. He knows when to stop. He wouldn't have become what he is otherwise. Survive now and pay back later.

A sheet thrown aside nonchalantly, he rises from the bed, still fully naked, and props himself on a headboard, his palm casually slides on the shelf.

"Well, is the view better now?"

"Cover yourself," comes a very irritated flange-response.

Anubis really does not like a reminder of his own present incorporeal state, he remembers that well. Apparently, some things are not to be changed even by re-resurrection.

"I would also advice you against trying any of your little tricks", the hollowness from under the hood utters. "They are not to work. I have taken care of that."

The suppressing field some kind of, he muses. One of those techs the banished System Lord managed to acquire during the time of his first 'death', probably, and didn't care to share when they were 'allies'.

"How very clever of you, my Lord."

He snaps his fingers and Shallan, who seemed to be not even breathing all this time, approaches him immediately with his closing and starts to get him dressed.

"Impudence." Anubis observes in a process.

"Rest assured, it was meant as a compliment," he lies blatantly and they both know it.

The protocol is unbreached, though.

When fully dressed and even kara-kesh has taken its rightful place on his left hand with Anubis' silent permission, he gestures towards the exit.

"Shall we relocate somewhere more suitable for our… negotiation?"

"It is past time. I could have conquered a system whilst you were indulging your vanity."

At least I still have something I can be vain about, he thinks briefly. Outside, he just shrugs nonchalantly.

"It could have gone much promptly was I notified about your arrival."

"That, yes. And it would also have give you plenty of time to throw some fit," Anubis chuckles darkly. "So, you see, I decided against it, however amusing it could have been. Although I admit, it did might left you with more active Jaffa, your late First Prime included."

He cannot help it - his temper flares and incandescence fills the eyes. His metal-clad fingers make a dull clank as he controls his left hand stay in place. His tone however, as he speaks, is light and flippant.

"Not to worry. I am just to put him through the sarcophagus now."

The black hood with the golden ending turns to pause upon him.

"He dared to defy me. There is not nearly enough left to be resurrected. It will serve you well to remember that, Ba'al."

Goa'uld language:

*Avidan - Gods are just;

*Kara-kesh - hand devise, often called ribbon devise;

*Kree - multi-meaning word, often used as a call to attention, as a command;

*Ha'tak - Goa'uld attack vessel;

*Tel'tak - Goa'uld scout ship capable of cloaking;

*Lo'taur - personal slave, high-ranking human servant;

*Zat'nik'tel - also known as zat' - energy weapon capable of stunning, killing and disintegrating;

*Kel shak - What is it?

*Orak - unspeakable, Kull warriors;

*Mack tal shree! - I am the Lord!