Hello again!

This is a story I have been working on for a while and I'm very excited to get it finished. I hope you enjoy it. (As with my last 3-part story, I did not have a beta and, being dyslexic, may have missed something during my proof reading. Please be kind.)

This chapter is dedicated to my good friends, San Antonio Rose and jennytork, for their help getting this story finished.

Disclaimer: I am too poor to own anything recognizable.

Enjoy ...

Chapter 1

Rodney awoke slowly, the dim light causing his headache to spike. Were those gas lamps? He pushed against the soft surface of what turned out to be a giant bed to sit up. He found himself in a room that might have belonged to Queen Victoria. Gilded mirrors, thick drapes, pillows, ornate furniture, the four-post bed even had curtains! Almost everything he saw was either gold or blue, with a few exceptions like the white porcelain bowl and silver pitcher sitting in the corner - a sight that made the scientist grimace.

"Please let this place have indoor plumbing," he mumbled to himself.

As he slid off the bed Rodney noticed his boots, vest, and jacket were gone and a pair of gold slippers had been set out with a matching robe. Not quite his style, but at least whoever kidnapped him had the decency to leave him his shirt and pants. The first thing he check was the door, which was locked. Crossing the room in sock-covered feet, he pulled back the heavy drapes to look out the window in an attempt to get his bearings. The view overlooked a courtyard where some kind of military drills were taking place. The red uniforms were very similar to the royal guard at Buckingham Palace, without the tall back hat, but Rodney was more concerned about the rifles and spears they were carrying. Obviously he wasn't getting out of here by way of the front gate.

"Oh good," a voice from behind him called out, almost making him jump. "We feared we had given you too much."

"Too much of what?" Rodney demanded, turning on the man.

He was tall, maybe around Sheppard's height but not nearly as tall as Ronon, with graying black hair and a perfectly manicured goatee that was long enough to brush the top of his ridiculously puffy bow tie. The patterned vest and long suit coat added to the look and immediately put Rodney in mind of Professor Moriarty - and the skeleton key he was slipping into his pocket did not offer a favorable first impression.

"Forgive the manner of your arrival, Your Greatness," the man said, bowing with a flourish, "but we had to keep things as quiet as possible. You understand, I'm sure."

Normally Rodney understood just about everything, but this situation defied logic. One minute he is wandering a village with his team, the next he is waking up in Versailles. He was obviously kidnapped, but his captors treated him like royalty. And where was Sheppard and the others? Had they been brought here too?

"Where are my people?" Rodney demanded, deciding to address Moriarty's comments later.

"Right here," the man said with a smile. "Where else would we be?"

"We?" Rodney questioned, wondering how deep this rabbit hole went. "No! I'm talking about my team!"

"Oh, them," he said dismissively. "They are of no concern anymore."

Moriarty let out a very undignified yelp when Rodney grabbed him by his velvet lapels and slammed him into the nearest silk covered wall.

"What did you do to them?" he growled, trying his hardest to imitate Ronon - and fairly successfully based on the wide-eyed fear staring back at him.

"N-Nothing, Your Greatness! I swear on the crown itself, they were left unharmed! We did not even engage with them, our only interest was in you!"

"Why?!"

"Well … You are our king."

Rodney dropped the man and took a step back. Their king? How- When- WHAT?!

"This is why we have taken such care in bringing you here," Moriarty continued. "We couldn't risk anything interfering with your coronation."

"My- Look," Rodney started, still trying to figure out how they thought he was King of Wonderland. "This is a mistake. You have the wrong guy."

"You are not the brilliant scientist, Dr. Rodney McKay, who most recently served the Great City of the Ancestors?"

How does he answer something like that? Just saying "yes" would fuel their delusion that he was royalty. He could try saying no, but he doubted this maniac would believe him. However, his silence seemed to give confirmation and Moriarty's smile returned.

"See? There has been no mistake. You were chosen to lead our people into a new age of science and discovery."

"Don't I get a say in this?" Rodney demanded, crossing his arms. "What if I just refuse to be crowned?"

"Actually, you already were crowned by proxy. Today's coronation is just a formality. You have been our beloved ruler for … oh … 16 months now."

"I fail to see how that is possible being that I didn't know you exist!"

"We are your most devout students, Your Greatness," Moriarty explained, his smile becoming impossibly wide. "We have studied your work, your adventures, your bravery and cunning. We have modeled our entire society after your example."

"Oh," Rodney said when a response seemed to be expected. "That's … creepy."

"I'm glad you approve," the man continued, clearly not hearing him or his tone. "Now then, we must prepare for your coronation. Which of these best suits your taste? We changed our kingdom's colors to reflect your family crest."

"My what?"

He got his answer when Moriarty flung open a wardrobe and displayed several regal uniforms. Some looked more military, others more formal, but all were either red or white, trimmed with the other color and decorated with gold. Next to the suits hung two fur trimmed capes following the same color scheme. Rodney pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to will away a growing headache.

"That's not a family crest, that's the Canadian flag!"

"Oh?" the man asked, looking from the wardrobe and back to Rodney. "Is that the land from whence you hail?"

"Yes."

"I will have our records updated immediately to reflect this new information. It will be proclaimed at your coronation that you are His Brilliant Majesty, King Rodney I, Greatest Scientist of Canadia."

"That's Canada, you idiot."

Moriarty didn't seem to hear him as he pulled the most ornate of the outfits out of the wardrobe. It was white with a red stash and gold braid. There were a number of medals that had no meaning to Rodney, but the style was more civilian than military. Not that it mattered. He had no intention of wearing it or any of the others.

"I think this one would be most flattering," Moriarty said, clearly not picking up on his lack of interest. "Perhaps you can wear it with the red cape?"

"I prefer Atlantis black, thanks."

"You wish to be crowned in … that?" Moriarty asked, the cheer in his voice obviously forced.

"I don't wish to be crowned at all."

"But you must!" the man said frantically. "If you don't ... if the people don't see their king …"

"They'll pick someone else?" Rodney suggested.

"They will fall back into civil war."

That grave answer caused the scientist to go silent. He remembered the spears and rifles of the soldiers and imagined a civil war looking something like WWI. How many of these delusional people would get killed if he didn't play along? For that reason - and that reason only - he agreed to dress in the suit with forty pounds of decorations and went through the motions of the ludicrous ceremony. Here's hoping that, when it was all over, they would let his proxy take over again and he could go home.

"You were magnificent, Your Majesty," Moriarty gushed an hour later, as Rodney changed back into his own clothes. "The people were in awe of your greatness."

"Yeah, terrific," Rodney mumbled from behind the changing screen. "Where are my shoes?"

"In your closet, my King."

Rodney opened a door to another room looking for the closet - taking a minute to realize it was the closet, but did not see his boots among the 6 dozen pairs of shoes that lined shelves in one corner. There was almost every other style, short of sneakers, but the only boots were the military kind used in the American Civil War. That figured. His jacket and vest were also not among the clothes hanging up on either side of a three way mirror.

"Your ceremonial clothing is stored in the wardrobe," Moriarty explained, joining him, "but you have many options for your everyday wear."

Suddenly, Rodney had a sinking feeling in his gut.

"How long do you expect me to stay here?" he demanded.

"Many many years," the man said with another wide smile. "I just know that our people will flourish under your leadership."

Rodney was afraid he was going to say that.

"I'm not staying," he informed the man, but didn't even make a dent in that crazed grin.

"I can understand that you might be nervous," Moriarty said, in a tone that was probably meant to be reassuring but just sounded condescending. "Do not fear; I will be at your side every step of the way to help you become the great ruler we know you can be."

"Yeah, sounds great," Rodney mumbled. "Look, Moriarty-"

"Theophilus."

"What?"

"I am Lord Theophilus, Steward of Greandra. I have been ruling in your stead these last months."

Rodney wasn't sure how he felt about that. Moriarty- Theoohilus was not what he would call mentally stable and suddenly it became clear why they needed him to come in person. His own people didn't trust the man to keep running things. But if he had been occupying the seat of power for so long, why was he so eager to help Rodney take over- unless that wasn't his plan at all. The man had done nothing but try to control and manipulate him since he woke up. Maybe he still wanted to rule by proxy.

"Of course, that was only in your absence," Theophilus amended quickly. "Now that you are here, I will serve as your Chief Counsel."

Yeah, even if he was planning to stick around, Rodney wasn't big on that idea. However voicing his thoughts turned out to be like yelling at the wind. Despite giving direct orders to return his gear and take him to the Stargate, Theophilus seemed to only hear "I'm hungry". Not that he wasn't, but that was nowhere near what he said. However, minutes later he found himself sitting in the center of a long table, looking out on an empty room, as servants set dishes of food all around him.

"I hope the food is to your liking, Your Majesty," a young woman said with a curtsy, placing what looked like roast ham with apples beside him. "And you do not need to worry about your allergy here. In preparation for your arrival we have burned all the citrus plants and outlawed their trade."

"Really? Well … um … thank you," Rodney replied, unable to keep the smile off his face.

Okay, so he may be stuck in a gilded cage, but at least he didn't have to worry about anaphylactic shock on top of everything else. Besides, the food was very good. He was enjoying it so much he almost didn't notice Theophilus shooing the servants away - almost. On the other hand, the sheer quantity of the feast and empty chairs along the table reminded him of what was missing in this illusion of paradise.

"You seem troubled, Your Greatness," Theophilus said, sounding genuinely concerned. "Perhaps my king is missing his companions? If it pleases you, I can select new ones from your court."

"No, that wouldn't please me," Rodney grumbled. "You know what would? Going home."

"Ah, you are tired," his Chief Counsel said with a nod.

"Do you even hear me when I speak?"

"Come, Your Majesty," the man continued. "It has been a long day and a rest will do you good."

The summoning of the guards as an escort didn't give Rodney much choice and a few minutes later he was back in his room. The door was locked, apparently for the sake of his privacy, and he was left alone. He spent the first few minutes checking the perimeter of the room for any other exits, tried unsuccessfully to rest, and then spent the next few hours at his writing desk working on the power system upgrades he had been talking about with Zelenka. The fountain pen took some getting used to, but wasn't bad. He was deep in the math when his door - finally - opened.

"Oh good, you are awake," Theophilus said with his standard grin.

"I never slept," Rodney muttered in response, finishing an algorithm. "What do you want?"

"You are needed in the audience room, Your Greatness."

"For what?"

"An audience, my king."

Rodney let out and annoyed huff and put his pen away. While being a monarch had been mostly sitting around bored, he wasn't eager to start dealing with kingly duties either. But he also didn't see his Chief Counsel giving him a lot of choice in the matter, so he reluctantly followed the man down the hall. They came to a large room, almost as big as the great hall, with a golden throne sitting on a dais beside an ornate wooden one slightly lower on the platform. Theophilus gestured for Rodney to take the golden seat while he occupied the other. While he considered standing out of spite, Rodney figured he might as well get this over with.

"Now, Your Brilliance," Theophilus began, sounding very pleased with himself, "you said you did not want new companions, but I did not want you to remain lonely. So I made arrangements for you."

He clapped his hands and the double doors at the end of the hall opened. Sheppard, Ronon, and Teyla - all stripped of their gear and weapons - were herded into the room by a group of guards, prodding them along with spears. The idiot had just lit the fuse on a powder keg.

So, what do you think? Is Theophilus in trouble or is Rodney?

Comments and suggestions are always welcome. As usual, you can expect the next chapter tomorrow afternoon (CST).