After John left, Teyla sought Leal and Carson.
She found them just as a new Arstaemian was born, both doctor and healer beaming from the elation. They let Teyla hold the newborn, and for that brief moment, she forgot all they had suffered. It almost felt as if they were being welcomed again among the people.
She was not sure if the healer had been sharing Teyla's claims of their innocence, but it did seem as if there was a noticeable change, though who they were blaming for the destruction that night, she did not know. Maybe they had decided to let such troubling questions stay in the past, either way, the relief was palpable for her, to not see the angry accusations whenever eyes looked upon her. To be able to hold this woman's new baby, and laugh over the faces the child made; the demanding cries.
The book forgotten, Teyla spent the afternoon enjoying the baby and conversation. When they left, stepping out into the freezing night air, they walked to the bungalow, all in high spirits. Until she came through the door and saw Ronon's annoyed face and Rodney poring over the book; it came rushing back on a wave of guilt. John.
Rodney looked up, something indefinable on his face and snapped, "What did Sheppard say when he gave you this?"
Teyla glared at Ronon, and he shrugged. "I told him but he wouldn't believe me."
Sighing, Teyla took the book from him and gave it to Leal. "Could you help us read this?" She ignored Rodney's question.
Leal took the book, surprise registering when she had read the title, and with reverence she opened the leather cover, tracing fingers over the fine lettering on the paper. "Where did you get this?" she asked, looking at Teyla in shock.
"From Colonel Sheppard." She confessed his name with some trepidation, not entirely convinced Leal would keep the information between them.
She had, though, at least as far as Teyla knew.
It had been four days, and Leal had sat with Carson every night, reading the pages and trying to teach Carson to learn, also, so that he could read when she was busy working in the Home of Healing.
"I still fail to see the benefit of wasting our time reading this book."
Rodney's irate statement brought Teyla out of her reverie. "Because Colonel Sheppard brought it to us for a reason."
His hand moved in the air, "Oh, right, a book about the plague that kills all the royal family – so either he wants us to try and find a way to hasten Naem's demise, or he wants to find a cure." Rodney got up and served himself second helpings of the stew before turning to look at Teyla. "Pardon me for saying what everyone is thinking, but in light of recent events, I would vote for the latter, and in which case, I'd rather stick pins through my skin than help."
Teyla saw Leal watching them both, and she almost groaned out loud. Rodney would never learn there was a time to voice complaints, and there was a time to be quiet.
She was growing increasingly concerned about the bitterness she saw in Rodney, and even in Ronon. They shared a growing resentment for the situation they were all in, something she reminded them about nightly. Teyla did not want to break her promise to Leal, but in light of the poison eating away at her teammates souls, she felt a time came when promises were not meant to be kept.
Only, Leal had been with them nonstop. She was especially close to Carson, as they both sharing the art of healing. Teyla's work increasingly took her into other homes, so she left early and arrived late. And every time she tried to get time alone to confess her knowledge, Leal was there.
"According to this, the first symptom is altered behavior."
Carson read the line, then looked up. "The king has certainly acted odd since we arrived."
Leal bit her lip but read the next, "Trembling of the limbs follows, accompanied by a deterioration of the sight."
"He's declared Sheppard his dead son." Rodney sat down and started to eat. "I think that qualifies as altered mental status, don't you think?"
"However he came to us, John is Jaem," Leal defended. "I realize the circumstances are unusual, but my people needed a prince, and while I agree His Majesty has not been entirely rational in regards to Jaem, your Colonel Sheppard will be our Prince. My helping you will stop if you believe, or try to make it any other way, do you understand?"
Ronon grunted and raised an eyebrow at Rodney, his bread held inches from his mouth as he asked, "Sure this disease only affects the king and his family?"
Leal reddened, and stood, slamming the book shut and shoving it into Carson's lap. She stalked towards the door, pausing to address Ronon.
"When I was a child, King Naem was the kind of ruler that inspired great love and confidence. His wife was beautiful and gentle. The spring and summer after their marriage, the entire town awaited their child's birth. It was a time of celebration; then autumn arrived, and the queen's labor was long. The boy was born and Queen Sareal died. Our entire people mourned along with the king, but he was strong.
Jaem was presented to those that gathered with flame in the darkness to celebrate the prince's birth. In our history, there must be a prince, or we will live always in great peril. My first memory is of looking upon Jaem, and I tell you true, Colonel Sheppard is Jaem reborn to us; I believe my King."
Leal stared at Ronon, and then the others with ferocity that surprised Teyla.
"When Jaem died less than two weeks later, it was a blow too great for our king to recover from. He withdrew from his people, from our love. He isolated himself in his manse and spent time with his birds. Then the wraith came, and every single autumn after, and many said it was because His Majesty did not remarry and give us another prince."
Leal's face twisted as she turned to Carson, and Teyla knew something was developing deeper between the two of them, something more than sharing a passion for healing. "I thought you understood how important he is to our people!"
Then she was gone with the slam of their door, and even Rodney had nothing to say to that.
OoO
"Open, Jaem."
Sheppard opened his mouth, and forced himself not to close his eyes.
The porridge Leal had placed him on to try and get his strength up was easy to chew, and he swallowed it fast enough. That was the only blessing right now – that the food went down fast and he could get through this.
Naem smiled encouragingly. "You are doing much better."
He dropped the spoon into the bowl and John got to relax; he'd made it through another one. Then it was time for his wounds to be bathed. In the morning Leal usually did the chore, but at night, Naem did. "Lay back, Son."
John acted like a mindless man, and did. Naem had told John not even his thoughts could be against him, but the king couldn't read minds, and Sheppard could hide what he was thinking good enough. Sure as hell could when he had enough incentive, and as Naem wiped the cold anti-septic cream over the punctures on his thigh, John remembered every single reason he wouldn't show, or say, the angry thoughts running his mind.
He'd hung for days, maybe a week, but he didn't think it was more than that. The blood loss, pain, and whatever had been on those spikes stuck into his legs, had combined to make him weak and the two days since, he'd been unable to get out of bed.
The servants had brought his clothes for the crowning ceremony.
Days, it was just days away and where the hell was the Daedalus, anyway?
He refused to consider that something devastating had happened to Atlantis – they'd fought back attacks before and survived. They would come, he was convinced, it was just a delay, maybe an outbreak kept them back in the Milky Way longer than planned; they couldn't risk bringing bacteria from Earth to Atlantis if they could help it. It'd happened before; they'd ran out of coffee once during those delays and he'd listened to McKay go on and on about his caffeine withdrawal headache from hell.
It didn't matter if they crowned him prince, because frankly, he wasn't honoring anything agreed to without his free will.
"Leal says tomorrow you should be strong enough to get up." Naem rolled the dirty bandages into a ball. "I want us to go in the woods with Zarye and Aarye. They've missed you."
Sheppard doubted that, but looking at Naem's hard eyes, he forced the lie from his lips. "Great, can't wait."
Yeah, Naem had definitely taken the gloves off, and Sheppard kind of wished he'd put them back on. He was convinced that the king believed him to be some reincarnated form of his son, and he also believed Naem cared for him along that vein, but Arstaem's traditions and culture were seriously messed up, at least for someone like him.
He sure as heck hadn't asked for any of this.
Naem scooted into the bed beside him, lifting John's head till it was pillowed in his lap. He ran shaky hands through Sheppard's hair and sighed. "I know this is hard for you, Jaem. I do understand. But it does not change your duty and what I must do to teach you. Sleep again, Son, and tomorrow we will walk through the woods and talk about what will happen at the crowning ceremony."
John felt his eyes closing, and fought against it, but he was tired…so damn tired, yet even as he drifted away, he registered the trembles coming from Naem's body.
OoO
The manse was alive with sound and celebration. Candles burned in almost every room, doors open throughout the lower levels. The audience room was filled with tables and chairs brought to the manse on carts from town to supplement the ones on hand. Townsfolk milled throughout, talking and sharing events. Men and women played music in the background, and children cavorted around adults, ducking in between their legs.
Sheppard sat awkwardly beside Naem at the head of it, in a throne that had been brought to sit by Naem's, slightly smaller and lower on the dais.
The three days he had been on his feet didn't feel enough. He wondered if Naem would ever stop dosing him with that damned Lumival. He wasn't ready for this, but on the other hand, John kept repeating it didn't mean anything; just to them, and he didn't owe these people a thing.
He'd spotted his team when they entered the chamber. Teyla was wearing a dress, beautiful on her, like she'd always been a part of Arstaem. Ronon looked as strong as ever, dressed in an outfit that was a lot like his. Brocade silk tunic and pants, solid black, and if anything, it made the Satedan look even more feral than usual, but John also noticed how often he stumbled. The Lumival.
Rodney and Carson wore the same style, but McKay was dressed in solid blue and Carson in dark green. Sheppard wondered if Naem had ordered the clothes for them. As for himself, he wore for the first time an outfit almost an exact replica of Naem's formal wear. Deep red tunic with thick gold brocade on the arms, shoulders and hem, with black pants. And on the chest above his heart, an embroidered black panther.
Sheppard had asked him what it meant, but Naem had smiled and said it meant nothing. Funny, John didn't quite believe him.
He still felt his scabs rubbing against the material every time he moved. Every now and then one would get caught by the fabric and pull, causing a sharp spike of pain that made him wince. Luckily, Naem said all John had to do tonight, at least for most of it, was smile and look happy. At the end, the crown would be brought before him, then he would kneel before the people. Naem would take up the crown and place it on his head, declare him the prince of Arstaem, his successor, and then John repeated the vow Ascaria had taught him weeks ago.
After that, it was party till dawn, or however long the people lasted.
Sheppard looked wistfully at the open doors at the far end. They let in the cooling, fresh winter air, but the darkness was complete after the threshold, all the torches and candles now inside with everyone having safely arrived from the town.
There had been a Lupere attack on the main road when Sheppard had been hanging on the beam, was it six days ago? They were getting brave, and Naem had ordered Joros to selecte a cadre of guards to take a hunting party into the forest and kill some of the bolder females. He'd also decreed any one traveling between the town and the manse were to have an escort of four guards.
"Jaem, open," Naem ordered.
John turned, dread icing his insides. He almost asked here, but when he shifted in his throne seat, his leg reminded him painfully to just shut the fuck up and deal with it.
And he would've been fine, if he hadn't turned just then and saw Rodney watching him.
Adrenaline flooded his nervous system; he felt hot and cold at the same time. Look away, McKay, just look the hell away, he urged. Of course, Rodney didn't, he narrowed his eyes at John as if trying to figure out what mental signal Sheppard was sending.
"Jaem…"
Naem's second call was one hundred percent warning for Sheppard to do what was expected, to not ruin the evening by defying Naem in front of his people, their people. He tried to tell himself this was how it was done in Arstaem. This type of submission was part of becoming a prince, part of becoming king, and they'd seen it all before, but that didn't stop him from sweating and reminding himself that whatever the Arstaemians could accept, McKay wouldn't understand.
God damn it, John groaned.
Naem's hand gripped his thigh, painfully.
Maybe if he passed out, he could blame it on the crowd and noise and say it was because he wasn't feeling well –
"Open, now."
His time was up, and since he hadn't passed out, Sheppard turned away from McKay and opened, staring instead at Naem, and feeling himself falling even as the food was delivered into his mouth. Son of a bitch.
The rest of the evening leading up to the crowning was an embarrassed blur. Naem made him eat from his hand more times. Then the musicians played a slow, steady cadence of sound thrumming faster, and louder, strings and drums, and Gaemal, with Joros and Baela on each side, dressed in a formal uniform Sheppard hadn't seen before, with a golden sash and tasseled rope around their waist, swords hanging in scabbards that gleamed brightly in the room, marched to the dais. A crown of golden leaves, the same as the one Naem wore, rested on a pillow of purple silk.
Gaemal bowed and said gravely, "Your Majesty, the First Advisor presents the Crown to the Prince, as my father has done before me, and so shall my son after."
"The king accepts the Crown for his prince," Naem intoned.
The music stopped, and Sheppard felt every eye bear on him.
Naem stood and pulled John to his feet. "My people! I present to you, your prince – Prince Jaem! May he lead wisely, love long, and protect you to the end of all of your days!"
The king stepped aside and John stepped forward, remembering what was expected of him. He was fighting his own internal panic with every step. On the third step of the dais, he knelt before Gaemal, the pain in his thighs screaming at him, as he bowed his head to accept the crown.
"Prince Jaem; upon you we bestow the people's trust." The First Advisor stepped away, then, and on the floor one step down from the dais, he knelt, bended knee and the entire room dropped as one. "In you, we trust."
Sheppard's heart was racing. He'd been in a lot of crazy positions, but this one took the cake. Swallowing, he stood, and repeated, "In the days of Spring, my watch has begun, in the days of Summer, I shall protect from all harm, in the days of Autumn, there will be another, so that the days of Winter shall never come."
When he finished, the townsfolk stood and shouted loudly, whistles and catcalls, and the musicians began playing a fast tune. Naem placed a hand on his shoulder and leaned in to whisper, "Well done, Jaem. I have never felt so proud, not even on the day you were born."
At least one of them was happy, because right then, all John felt was despair. Utterly gut wrenching despair, because he was looking straight into the accusing face of McKay and the twisted angry one of Ronon.
OoO
Naem returned to his chair, the trembling in his limbs great enough that tonight, he did not want to try and walk. Soon enough his people would know that he was ill with the disease, but for tonight he would not take their cheer away. It was a long time earned, for all of them. He could have taken the Lumival, but he had wanted to feel everything tonight, and the drug dulled the senses.
Jaem had moved from the dais into the crowd, nodding numbly at the well wishers, and Naem wished he was by his son's side.
He let Jaem talk to his companions, saw them moving to the far wall and exchanging what looked like angry words until the woman, Teyla, calmed them. Naem had almost left his seat then, but he did not want to spoil tonight for Jaem, and he knew his intervention would only cause more of a rift between them. It was a rift he had encouraged by keeping them separate. A ruler could not afford to keep close friends. He could have men and women serve that he grew to love and care for, but not to the degree he had suspected these five cared for one another.
The far edges of the audience chamber were already blurred, the disease advancing faster than he had anticipated.
Naem had only to sit back and enjoy the celebration, watch his people smiling and laughing again. Joros and Baela were watching Jaem, and he trusted in the training to keep Jaem from doing anything foolish, like eating anything without Naem feeding it to him.
Before morning had lightened the sky outside, Jaem had returned to his seat, looking weary.
Most of the townsfolk had left, only a few of the young people, not yet married but old enough to stay without their parents, remained. Naem stood, his muscles stiff, and gestured for Jaem to follow. "Time for us to get some rest."
They made their farewells and escaped to Naem's private chamber. Even though his own body was betraying him, Naem instructed Jaem to lie down. Leal was not going to be here this morning, or this night. In fact, if rumor was true, Naem might have Jaem issue a formal pardon for one Carson Beckett so that he might ask Leal to marry him. It was good that his people were moving past the terrible events of the night that had reborn Jaem to them. It had been necessary; great joy often arrived on the wings of great pain, such was Jaem's crowning.
His wounds looked healthy, and Naem bandaged him with clean cloths.
As he finished wrapping the last one around Jaem's thigh, his son grabbed his hand and held it. "You've got the disease, don't you?"
Naem stood, taking the dirty bandages to the garbage. After he dropped them in the pail, he walked to the cabinet and got a drink, poured two, and sat them on the game table, gesturing at the chair. "Sit, Jaem."
The board was waiting for their next moves, having been abandoned when Jaem had needed the harsh reminder of obedience, and now, Naem moved his Lupere in position to attack Jaem's First Adjudicate. "It began two weeks ago, which is why I had to be so harsh, do you understand? I will be leaving you soon and you must be a capable ruler by then."
Jaem opened his mouth when Naem held the glass up for him, and drank, before shaking his head. "Naem, about this disease…I have reason to suspect it's not…exactly a disease."
The folly of youth, Naem thought, thinking they knew everything and could bend nature to their wants. He was surprised at Jaem falling prey to it, though. "It is the way of the royal line, Jaem, there is nothing to be done."
One of Jaem's Luperes blocked his from getting to the Adjudicate and Naem frowned at the board. With the piece safe, the path to Jaem's king was closed. He studied the board, alarmed when his vision blurred. He blinked, and it focused. Maybe he should rest now, and play later. "I think we will resume this later." He finished his drink, and held Jaem's up for him. After both glasses were empty, Naem waved Joros to stand guard outside.
Jaem removed all but his undergarments and climbed into the bed, curling far into the wall, like usual. After Naem was settled, he tried again, "You're being poisoned. Just thought you should know."
Incredulous that Jaem would continue to push, Naem sat up. "Jaem, I will not allow you to make false accusations. Do you realize the damage of what you do? A prince – a king, must always believe in his people!"
He felt Jaem tense, but Naem felt his own anger growing again, how could his son do this on the morning of his crowning? Ancestors take all, this was the worse thing he had done so far. In less than a month, Jaem would rule alone; Naem knew his days were limited, and here Jaem lay, spreading lies.
"Forget it," Jaem whispered.
Naem wanted to, wanted more than anything that he could forget what his son had said, but it was not something he could let go. "Stand up, Jaem," he said severely.
The lean body rolled, Jaem's face wreathed again in reluctant fear. "I was only trying to stop the…" swallowing, he stopped talking and stared at the floor. "Never mind. You're right, I shouldn't have said anything."
"You are right," Naem breathed, walking slowly to the dresser and withdrawing the restraints. "You must learn that words are like weapons. Once they are loosed, they will do their damage, whether you regret them or not. Put your hands out for me, now."
At least Jaem did not compound his mistake by refusing to obey. Two days hanging would be sufficient; no whipping this time.
After he had Jaem secured, he left the room.
Joros straightened from the wall. "Sire?"
"Jaem is as stubborn as Zarye and Aarye when they focus on their prey. I will be in the aviary if you need me, otherwise, let him think about his latest transgression."
His guards both shared a knowing look, and Joros nodded curtly. "Yes, Sire."
Naem left the manse as fast as his shaking limbs would take him.
OoO
"ETA to P6X-371?"
Caldwell was barely containing his impatience. Despite Novak and Hermiod getting the hyperdrive fixed a week ahead of schedule, it hadn't been fast enough. The time lag between their trip to Earth, and then the repairs – he wasn't feeling positive about what they would find.
"Five minutes, Colonel," Hermiod answered calmly.
"Good."
He waited as the time seemed to tick by painfully slow.
"Colonel Caldwell, we are in range."
Finally, after all these weeks, they could go down to the planet and find out just what the hell had happened to their people.
"Lieutenant, inform those in the rescue team we'll meet on the hangar deck in ten minutes. I want everyone armed to the teeth, we are going to get answers one way or another."
He slipped from the chair. "Major, you have the con."
OoO
They actually did it.
Last night he'd watched John Sheppard, former Colonel, be crowned as some prince to this backwater planet, and now what? He'd watched, stunned, while Naem fed Sheppard. Fed, by his hand!
It had taken every ounce of will power, and okay, in all fairness, Ronon's restraining hands, to keep McKay from rushing up to that throne and punching Naem in the face. Sheppard wasn't like that – what the hell was going on that had changed him? Rodney didn't even recognize him anymore.
He knew hostility from the people in town had lessened, a lot, and he was pretty sure Teyla had something to do with it, and possibly Carson, but Rodney was sick and tired of cleaning out stalls, fixing equipment from the dark ages. He was fed up with all of it; Sheppard got to live in the important house, and literally get treated like royalty, and even if he'd been innocent in the beginning, it'd been over two months, and enough was enough.
What he couldn't understand was why Teyla didn't share his disgust.
The town as a whole had a holiday, and they went straight from the manse to their bungalow. Leal was attached to Carson, like always lately. Teyla looked worried, Ronon was as pissed as he was.
Wonderful holiday, really.
He slammed dishes around harder than he should, swept the snow they'd dragged in on their feet out the door. Stoked the fire and threw two thick logs to warm the room. Ronon was cutting another one of those damn pumpkins for dinner. And Sheppard was up there with servants waiting on him hand and foot, with a king feeding him. Ludicrous didn't come close to touching the situation.
"Rodney."
Ignoring Teyla, he stormed back to the door, opened it and threw out the water in the dishpan.
"Doctor McKay?"
Looking up, he realized he'd just dumped dirty water on Colonel Caldwell.
OoO
You try to do a good deed, Sheppard, and look where it gets you. Continually. Because everything from the time he'd met Naem, to now, had been filled with good intentions, well, maybe except for the time he'd told Naem to fuck off. And he was doing that a lot right now, not out loud, because Joros was watching over him. But definitely to himself
The pain that he remembered so well seemed to come back harder and faster with each new time he was hung on the beam. If he hadn't hurt so much, he might've cried, but the pain had rendered him incapable of doing anything more than hang and drift, lost in scrambled thoughts that weren't making much sense.
He'd finally talked to Carson last night. Not only had he gotten the book from Teyla, but he'd gotten one of the Arstaemian healers, Leal, to help him read and go over the possible causes.
Leal had firmly denied the possibility of poisoning when Beckett had explained it was the only cause that would explain what he was reading in the book.
With McKay hovering near, making an ass of himself, John had a hard time discussing it. He got that Rodney believed he was milking the situation, but Sheppard had enough of his own screwed up shit to deal with. He wasn't able to try and defend himself to Rodney, and he sure as hell wasn't able to explain the abuse he was suffering at Naem's hand.
Sheppard had a lot of pride and yeah, possibly arrogance, so in some ways, he was a lot like McKay, he just kept his comments to himself more often than not. That's where the two of them differed – that, and he had social skills.
So the thought of pulling McKay aside and saying, "Look, this culture has some seriously screwed up mores in dealing with their royal kids, and Naem is insane enough to really think I'm his son so there you go – instant ticket to the shame and humiliation club with a nice side dish of torture," was possibly worse than being forced to eat from Naem's hands in front of a room full of people.
Actually, it was worse.
Because admitting he'd allowed Naem to do this to him, even with the Lumival, it just… it was vulnerability and failure and everything that John had always considered antithema to who he was.
Why had he even bothered trying to save Naem?
God…the pain was driving him insane.
His feelings for the king were such a mess he didn't even know where to begin. He hated, Naem, definitely. Sympathized…a little. Cared? It scared him that the answer to that wasn't no.
Naem had held him when his body was in so much pain he couldn't see straight. He'd held him, fed him, encouraged him. Saved his life in the woods. Everything he'd done hadn't been out of malice, but from love, no matter how misplaced it might be or have started out from, it was what it was.
But still, a part of him, hated Naem to the depths of his being.
John's knees gave out, and he fell, only for his wrists to pull in the shackles, and another moan escaped.
Please please please please…he needed out.
Voices. Raised voices. He was hearing…no, he was dreaming, hallucinating…
The door burst open and he was really there. Caldwell. The Daedalus.
John sagged, and then moaned. He tried to straighten but he just…couldn't. Then hands were on his chest, holding him up, pulling his weight, supporting it. Rodney?
"McKay?" he murmured.
Rodney's face was near his, so near that John felt his breath against his skin. Sheppard wanted to tell him to go away, to stay. He wanted to grab McKay and say he was sorry for screwing this up, for letting Naem win, for not being able to protect his team, but he couldn't do anything, because all the words and thoughts jumbled in his mouth in a traffic jam, and in the end, all he could do was sink against McKay's strength and say, "I needed you."
And then he was surprised that in the end, out of all he wanted to say, the one thing he hadn't wanted to admit, was the one thing that came out.
"I'm here now," Rodney's voice broke and he held Sheppard tighter. "I'm here, Colonel."
OoO
Zarye was the one that first knew something was wrong, and Aarye was right behind her twin. They screamed at their glass ceiling and dove from the tree to the ground, and then back up to the tree.
Alarmed, Naem ran from the aviary in time to see Jaem's four companions, Leal and a group of newcomers walking into the manse. He'd left Joros and Baela guarding Jaem, the rest of his guard spread throughout the manse and town, except the two standing stiffly beside the door, looking at him for orders.
The newcomers were not drugged, and they were fully armed; their guns more than a match for the swords Naem's guards carried. It would be a slaughter…and even knowing it, Naem wanted to order it. They had come for Jaem. For his son!
Stiffly, he strode towards the manse.
By the time he had reached his private chambers, a crowd had gathered. A servant had run to him, curtsied, explaining they had threatened her if she did not tell them where Jaem was kept. Naem had pulled her from her curtsey and kissed her on the brow. "It does not matter, Besaema. Go, now, prepare dinner."
Then he'd continued resolutely to his chambers.
Jaem was being unshackled, then the one, McKay, cradled his son and the other, Ronon, helped carry him to the bed. When he arrived, Joros and Baela glared their apologies, but they were held at gunpoint, their swords taken from them.
Stiffening his resolve, and his body, trying to hide the trembling and blurry vision that affected him, Naem addressed the one he gauged to be the leader. "Why have you come?"
The man reminded him of Jaem when they'd first met, full of thinly coiled danger. "You kidnapped our people, lied about their condition, and blocked your Stargate." He put his hands on his hips and stared hard at Naem. "You're the one that needs to explain. Why has Colonel Sheppard been treated like this?"
"Prince Jaem is my son, reborn to us. He has been crowned, and has been undergoing the training that all princes must to become a fair and wise ruler." Naem tried to keep his voice steady, but the mental exertion to spar with this man was proving too much. Seeing Jaem in their hands made him feel ill, and he felt everything slipping away from him, just when he was at the end. It was not right, it was not fair, that he should not be able to die with the peace he had this morning.
Kings do not beg, though, and Naem would not let his pain show.
Suddenly McKay was running at him, grabbing him and throwing him against the wall. Joros lunged, but Jaem's people restrained him.
"Trained! You sick son of a bitch, you've been torturing him, all these months, all this time, when I thought," he shook Naem hard, his own body shaking. "When I thought he was living it up. I thought he was being treated like royalty." The man's face had reddened in his fury, the Lumival still making his limbs clumsy. His breathing was labored, and rapid, and spittle gathered on his lips.
"Rodney, stop…"
Their doctor, healer, was trying to pull McKay away from Naem, but McKay shrugged him off with an angry jerk and shook Naem harder. "Why would you do that to him?"
The strong one, Dex, pulled McKay away as easy as he would pull a child. He gathered the smaller man to him and said, "Stop it, McKay. We all made mistakes. This isn't your fault."
"Isn't it? If I had tried a little harder to find out what was happening, maybe I could've --"
"Could have what, Rodney?" the woman, Teyla, asked, her tone gentle, but the glare she sent to Naem was venomous. "Do not forget, we were all kept drugged. John was well guarded, always."
Jaem's groans finished what they started; McKay looked one final time at Naem, one last moment and said, "You've been poisoned. Sheppard figured it out … what's killed thousands of your family over generations, and knowing him, he told you. But I'm not going to save you."
He turned and walked to Jaem's side, leaving Naem feeling lost.
"Colonel Caldwell, John needs medical care."
Teyla stared worriedly at Jaem.
"I will care for my son," Naem protested. "He is my responsibility!" They could not take Jaem from him, not now. "Please, it is true that I am ill, that I will die soon. All I want is to die with my son by my side."
Kings never begged, but fathers did.
The man straightened, and pushed against something in his ear…their radios. He had seen Jaem wearing it before, when he had seen him again for the first time.
"This is Caldwell, lock on to my signal. You should be picking up --"
Leal pulled a knife, and before Naem could tell her no, she was running at their commander. Before the bald man could move, another of their men had raised the weapon in his hand and fired.
Leal's feet stumbled, her upper body jerked backwards, and Naem saw two pricks of blood appear on her shirt, so small at first it could have been a mistake in the weaving, but then they spread, faster than Naem had ever thought blood had a right too. Their doctor, Carson, he ran to her, calling her name.
"Leal, no!"
"Hold your fire, damn it!"
The look on Carson Beckett's face was terrible. Naem remembered his thoughts about the two marrying, and now Jaem was going to be taken from him, Leal was going to die before him, and Naem would have nothing but death to comfort him.
The doctor lifted her to him, held her just like he had held Jaem. He pushed a hand against the bleeding wounds that already had her shirt red and wet.
"Why, Leal?" His face looked sad, and angry. "We wouldn't have hurt him."
Naem's healer swallowed, coughed, and blood trickled out the corners of her mouth. She grabbed frantically for Carson's shirt, the same silk he had worn to Jaem's crowning ceremony.
"For…Jaem. He is…our prince," she sobbed. "I…tried…to tell…you." She coughed harder, and convulsed, her fingers holding to him as if to anchor herself against the pain, but in the end, she was lost, lost in the same vicious waters Naem had seen off the cliffs across Arstaem's forest.
"Colonel." One of the man's soldiers leaned towards the leader. "We need to get our people to the ship, Sheppard's not doing so hot and McKay's looking a little iffy."
He nodded, and returned to his radio. "Hermiod, lock onto our signal and beam us up on my command." He turned to the others, lingering on the doctor holding Leal. "Doc? You have a patient, I believe."
Carson Beckett was still staring painfully at Leal, but then he nodded slowly, and ran his hands across Leal's face, closing her unseeing eyes. He looked at Naem. "I want to be there when her body is burned tonight. There's a bloody lot of anger and pain to sort, but I won't let you take that from me, king or not, do you understand?"
It did not matter. Nothing mattered. They were taking Jaem from him, and he could not stop them. "Do what you wish," Naem said, his voice flat.
He turned to leave, but before he could, Ronon had him in his fists and Naem was again thrown against the wall, but whereas before, McKay had been in a rage, uncontrolled and without purpose, Dex had purpose etched all over him.
Naem had once compared him to a feral animal, and now he knew this man was like a Lupere, powerful and deadly, and with one purpose – to kill. He might not turn on those he served with, but he was more of a killer than any of the others. And Naem welcomed it.
"Kill me, Lupere," he urged.
"Ronon, let him go."
Teyla, always talking these men down from their heights of passion. She would have been a good match for Jaem. He had needed to find his son a princess…
"I should kill you now," Ronon growled.
Naem did not care. "Then do it and get it over with." He had never been afraid of death, only afraid of it taking those he loved.
"No."
The man let Naem go. He stepped back, and raked a violent smile over the king. "If Sheppard's right, and you've been poisoned, it's more painful than my knife." Then his face grew cold and empty. "For what you did to us, you deserve more than one death."
A soldier pushed something into Ronon's hand and they stepped back, the bald Colonel saying, "Now."
In a flash of light, they were gone.
Naem stared at the room empty of Jaem, Leal's dead body, and his guards. Joros… Baela. "Leave me," he ordered, his voice shaking.
Joros hesitated, but Baela bowed and left.
"Joros, please."
Fathers begged.
His last guard turned and left, closing the door behind him. Naem knew he was standing on the other side, and would remain there, until Naem left. His trembling legs carried him to Leal, and he gathered her in his arms, carrying her to his bed. She had been there when Jaem lived and died, and lived again. Now they were all dead. All but him, and soon Naem would join them, and his people would fall.