NOTES: This story will require explanation. It's an AU - Stargate Atlantis blended in with the universe from Anne Bishop's "Black Jewels" trilogy. I wrote a much longer Ronon/Elizabeth story called "To Serve A Queen" back in late 2005, and it has received much acclaim, however, due to the NC-17 nature of the last chapter, it cannot be published at Fanfiction Net. This one has no sex scenes, and so can be safely posted here.

The Price Of A Warlord Prince

The plain was featureless and barren, an endless marshland through which shadows moved, their splintering forms mere fragments of reality.

Teyla moved through them, looking for a familiar face, a familiar defiance. Mud as grey as her Jewel clung to her bare feet, slicking her soles with insidious despair as she sought in the Twisted Kingdom what was lost to her in the realms of life.

Witches and Blood males alike spoke in hushed whispers of the Twisted Kingdom - the realm where the Darkness met and broken the human mind, and madness reigned all. A Black Widow was trained to walk in the Twisted Kingdom, to see more clearly what sanity could not comprehend, but there were always those who forgot the way back.

She did not intend to forget the way back; rather, she sought the way forward.

A flick of Grey-Jewelled power flashed out, seeking the resonance Sapphire of a mind and body tortured to the edge of sanity.

John?

Teyla picked her way through the thick sludge across the ground, ignoring the dirt that clung to the hems of her trousers. Even a fully trained Black Widow could fall astray in the Twisted Kingdom if she did not take care. She would be of no use to Elizabeth if she lost her way here, and shattered her mind.

She would be of no use to John.

The hand came out of nowhere, gripping her shoulder hard enough to bruise. "What are you doing here? Hey, easy, Teyla..." He held up his hands as she turned on him. "It's just me."

Slowly, with more uncertainty than she felt, Teyla put out a hand to touch his face, his stubble prickling against her palm as he leaned into the caress. "John." Sometimes it was hard to tell what was real in the Twisted Kingdom, but the psychic touch that caressed her mind was familiar and beloved.

"You shouldn't be here." There was a rough edge to his voice, a heaviness to the grip of the hand that circled her wrist. He was tired, drained of his strength and given no time or space to recharge. And she could feel the shadow of despair heavy over him. "I told Elizabeth not to send anyone after me."

"And no-one has been sent," she reassured him, her eyes ranging across the lines of his face - grown deeper in the mere days since he'd kissed her goodbye at the landing pad and strode off to see what trouble had occasioned a Landen call for help from the northern border of Atlantis Territory. It ached in her - not the aging, but what the pain portended.

He studied her for a long moment, trying to determine the truth in her expression, in her gaze. "Good," he said at last, reassured by her words. "Kolya... He's insane, Teyla. She can't let him gain a foothold in the Territory - he'll destroy Atlantis any way he can, and she can't give him that chance."

"John--"

"She can't." His fingers closed even harder about her wrist - to the point of pain. "Promise me you won't let her."

Teyla absorbed the pain without comment. "It is her decision to make," she said at last. "If she will not be persuaded, I cannot change her mind."

John seemed to realise he was crushing her wrist and loosened his grip, fingers rubbing gently along the bruised flesh in silent apology. "You shouldn't be here."

"Neither should you."

Weariness ached in his faint smile, and Teyla felt something clench in her belly as he reached out to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear and his fingers lingered by her throat. "It's an escape." He glanced around them at the skewed panorama. "Not very pretty, but the company more than makes up for it."

"John..."

She did not evade when he bent to kiss her, tilting her face up so his mouth might more easily access hers. Heat, darkness, and bittersweet pleasure rushed through her as she slid her hand around the back of his neck and he twined fingers into her hair to prevent her from stepping away.

John's lips were slow and smooth against hers, and she savoured the taste of him - savoured the line of his shoulders beneath her hand, the familiar sense of male strength and protection that was the bedrock of his nature under the reckless spirit that pervaded his every action.

He deepened the kiss, sliding them both along the edge of passion, and if they had been anywhere but the gnarled dreamscape of the Twisted Kingdom, she would have allowed him to draw her deeper.

But not here. Not where the self could too easily splinter and shatter in the bitter, brutal landscapes that formed this place. A Black Widow was trained to resist the skewing pressure that dragged at the psychic senses, to become aware of what was real and what was an illusion of the mind. A Warlord Prince - no matter how gifted a warrior he might be, or how dark his Jewels - was not.

Gently, Teyla pulled back, mouth relinquishing mouth with slow agony. She opened her eyes to the terrible ache in his gaze.

"You're going."

"I must." She pressed her palm to his cheek and did not elaborate. "Do not come back here again, John."

"I don't think it'll matter soon," he murmured. "Will you come back?"

"I..." Such hope in the question! But Teyla could not lie to him and would not give him false hope. "John--"

She saw the first crack in his soul - the pain of abandonment, even in the knowledge that this was his price for Atlantis' safety - a price worthy of a Warlord Prince. And her fingers closed about his hands, gripping tightly. So many things to say and no way to say them.

"It's probably better that way," he said with a lightness that fooled neither of them.

"Do not stay here."

His smile had dark edges. "You've said that already." Then, as she was about to turn away, he spoke again. "Teyla. There's a box in my bottom drawer - a gift. I didn't think you were ready to accept it from me." The self-mocking glint of his smile brightened the featureless grey yet tainted the air with an old bitterness. "Something to remember me by."

His pain was bright as fire in twilight; but Teyla could not afford compassion now.

"Goodbye, John."

He convulsed once, then stilled himself with a force of will. She almost turned away so she wouldn't have to see his eyes as he watched her leave, then forced herself to look at him as she effected the mental twist that would take her out of the Twisted Kingdom, and back to the Realms.

Even as the familiar lines and forms of her workroom replaced the unnerving landscape, Teyla saw John's mouth move in two words before the transition completed, and she was left staring at her reflection in the glass doors of her workroom.

A witchlight hovered brightly over her worktable, casting long shadows across the floor to the corners of the room. The glow gleamed across the hot tears sliding down her cheeks, reflected grief in a dark mirror, and Teyla swiftly wiped them away.

There was no time to grieve.

No-one has been sent.

She had told John the truth: no-one was being sent after him.

Elizabeth had watched the jewel chip recording with a set face and white lips, while her Consort paced like a beast caged, and her Steward's throat worked. The former Master of the Guard watched impassively until the end, when he said, "Sheppard's right."

And all the Queen had said was, "I know, Steven." But her eyes had sought out Teyla. "I'm sorry."

"Everything has a price." Teyla had not needed the apology. She had understood - perhaps even better than Elizabeth - for the sake of the court and Atlantis Territory, sacrifices were necessary.

This was the price John had asked of them - his sacrifice in exchange for Atlantis. It had not needed saying, but he had said it all the same. And the Queen had accepted the price.

Teyla had accepted the price - until she had seen what acceptance would bring with it.

Perhaps she had lived with John too long. Perhaps this renegade soul had existed in her long before she came to Atlantis Court in the service of the old Territory Queen, Melia. Perhaps she was simply unwilling to watch as Kolya, a former Warlord Prince of Gennii Territory, preyed upon the people Teyla loved.

She would not be 'sent after' John but she would go after him all the same.

It was not an easy decision, nor would it be an easy thing to do.

But everything had a price.

Teyla would pay this one.

--

Teyla started up from the chaise lounge, clutching at her pillow and struggling for breath.

She'd dreamed - a Black Widow's tangled web of twisted skeins, with no beginning and no end, and only the confusing mélange of images and feelings.

Winter's ice mirroring her dark reflection back to her with hazel pain before splintering into shards of blood that stung in her flesh and would not come out. A garden, once walled and peaceful, with a stream bubbling merrily through, now dried and parched, the wall crumbling as the Sapphire-dusted soil beneath ached with the memory of better times. A man, stripped bare and left to die, the criss-cross of lashes over his pale skin like a loose-woven cloak of scarlet that pooled and seeped over the grey mud towards Teyla's feet.

And the barren land that had once been Atlantis stretching out, hills and valleys, and the bitter, empty sea that stretched out to forever.

Was it her decision that had brought the dreams? Or would she have dreamed of him, even without the hours spent forming the tangled web of the spell upon which hinged so much of Atlantis' future and her own?

Exhaustion hit her like a wave crashing on a beach, and she drew of the strength of her Jewels, feeling the dark power fill her, easing back the weariness enough that she did not shake and shiver like a creature hunted.

Was it merely the cold of the morning invading her flesh, or a deeper source of unease - the lingering remnants of the dream-visions that woke her from restless sleep? A Black Widow was accustomed to the dreams - those that came without the spinning of dream-webs as well as those that came with - but never before had her dreams so unsettled her.

John.

She rose from the lounge and the quilted coverlet fell down about her bare ankles as she moved to stand by the window

In the gardens beyond, several figures moved. Members of the court taking a mid-morning stroll, or perhaps the gardeners working to keep the formal spaces neat and presentable? This morning, Teyla could not find the energy to care.

She lifted her eyes to her reflection in the pane of glass and saw, for just a moment, John watching her as she'd left him in the Twisted Kingdom.

The knock on the door made her jump, and the vision faded from sight. She was alone in the reflection of the glass, with someone standing outside the suite, waiting for entry.

Outside the door, Rodney hovered with something that approached uncertainty, although he had no hesitation in stating his question. "What are you doing today? And you're not allowed to say that you're going to sit in here and mope all day. Or give an answer that equates to sitting in here and moping all day."

Teyla felt buoyed by his energy, however nervous it was. "When do I ever 'mope', Rodney?"

He looked abashed. "Never, I suppose. But it had to be asked." The Green-Jewelled Prince tilted his head at her. "Now are you going to come along quietly, or did you want to yell at me?"

"Why would I want to yell at you?"

Rodney paused. Then, as though the words were dragged from him, he blurted. "Because Sheppard's not here for you to yell at."

It was suddenly difficult to swallow. "Rodney--"

"Look, you can't stay in there forever. And I need help with this spell. I think it's written in female."

By which he meant that it only made sense to the female mind. Rodney had peculiar trains of thought.

"I..." Teyla felt the lump in her throat grow more pronounced, even as she tried to laugh and only choked. The kindness was unlike Rodney, although the concern with his own pursuits was. And he was trying to help, in what way he knew how. She drew on the strength of her Jewels again, and inhaled, knowing it sounded more like a sob than she would have had anyone see. "I will come shortly. In an hour?"

"You promise?"

She looked away. "Yes."

"Teyla." His eyes were blue and oddly kind. Compassion was not a word she associated with Rodney, but he had his own sensitivities. "The court needs you."

Perhaps not the most comforting of things that could have been said, but it choked in her throat, leaving her with barely the voice to say, "In an hour, Rodney."

Teyla pressed her forehead to the cool, dark wood of the closed door. She would go through the day, discharge her duties to Queen and court. She would not flinch at the kindness of others, nor shy from their compassion. And when night fell, she would set into motion a chain of events that might mean John's freedom or her destruction.

Everything has a price.

Carefully, she pushed herself off from the door and went to tidy up the room.

The light quilt and the pillow were plucked from the floor, and she resolutely turned her face towards the open door of the bedroom.

In the curtained darkness, still the light seeped through enough to make the sheets pale, rumpled clouds. The emptiness of the bed seemed to mock her, too wide and cold for her solitary frame.

She had slept without him in her bed once, she would do so again.

But this first night - the first night of many? - Teyla had not been able to endure the loneliness, and had fled to somewhere where every shift within the sheets wouldn't scream a reminder to her that John was no longer in Atlantis.

As she laid the pillow down on John's side of the bed, and spread the coverlet carefully over the smooth sheets, Teyla felt the weight of last night's work upon her. She'd ventured into the Twisted Kingdom on nothing more than hope and been repaid for her efforts.

There's a box in my bottom drawer - a gift.

Witchlight bloomed at her psychic command, a balled glow above her head, casting vividly down on the wooden drawer and its contents.

Three formal neckties, a chess set, a book that she had been seeking for a whole season, and two odd cufflinks... John had a habit of tossing things away and then not being able to find them. He had teased her by calling her 'his memory' and asking her where his various items were - to which Teyla had inevitably retorted that she was no hearth-witch. More often than not, that devolved into John's pointed reply that he didn't want a hearth-witch, and things would get intimate thereafter.

But she would not think of that now.

The box, when she found it, was small and with the stamp of the jeweller on its lid - a small, private concern, which did much jewellery work for the members of the court and the First Circle of Elizabeth's court.

Teyla sat and stared at it for a long moment. Then she lifted the lid.

Witchlight glimmered, glittered, and twinkled across the fine traceries of leaves and vines that twined their way across the gold surface of the slim rings that sat in cushioned darkness. Two rings - male and female - fitted for the third finger of the left hand.

In the seasons during which they had shared a bed, they had never spoken of marriage - she had not broached it, he had not brought it up. In truth, Teyla had not felt herself ready to commit to such a relationship, and John had seemed content to be just her lover.

Seemings could be untrue.

She picked out the smaller ring, dangling it from her finger, knowing it would fit perfectly on the hand for which it had been made. In its gleaming curves, she saw the bitter twist of John's smile as he acknowledged what he had desired but never received.

I didn't think you were ready to accept it from me...

Teyla closed her fingers around the metal, feeling the cold bite into her flesh, icy with regret. John had always underestimated how much she valued him. And she had let him, by not exerting herself to show him otherwise.

Would he have believed her willing to accept his proposal if she had taken greater pains to show him her care?

Perhaps. There was no way to be sure. And so little chance of reparation.

Something to remember me by.

Teyla slipped the rings back into their slots and gently closed the lid of the box over them.

Everything has a price.

John had set his price and found it worthy of him. His life would be the coin exchanged for the safety of Atlantis - for the lives of Queen, friends, family, lover.

But it was not enough.

--

All day, she felt people watching her, the pressure of Atlantis' concern.

She felt its presence when she broke out of her reverie in Rodney's workroom to find him watching her, quietly anxious at her silence, although he kept talking as though nothing had happened.

She felt its weight when Elizabeth caught up to her in the midmorning, drawing her into Carson's office so the three could discuss a growing situation in the southern part of the Territory, near Teyla's home village of Athos.

And she felt it as she sparred against Ronon under Steven's watchful eye - losing herself to the stretch and flow of their movements in and about the unbladed sticks that were their training materials.

In all that day, Ronon himself was the only one to address the matter directly - a Warlord Prince, Consort to the Territory Queen, and entirely Ronon.

His words were low and for her ears alone as they rested and watched some of the other warriors sparring. "You okay?"

"Yes." Teyla left it there.

He did not. "Sheppard knew what he was doing."

"I never said he did not."

"You're not eating enough." When she turned on him, he grinned, lazy and assured and very male. "You're getting skinny."

"Turn your attention to Elizabeth," she snapped.

The initial wariness Ronon had shown towards her upon his arrival in the Atlantis court had long since vanished, to be replaced by a protectiveness that was at once both comfort and annoyance.

"She doesn't need my attention right now," Ronon shrugged. "You do."

"I am fine."

"No," he contradicted her bluntly. "You're not."

Teyla did not wish to have this conversation now.

"Then I will be fine," she said, choosing simplicity over deceit. "But I do not wish to speak of this today."

When he opened his mouth, she laid out a warning for him, in nothing more than a word. "Prince."

He subsided, but she felt his eyes watching her, studying her, and feared what conclusions he might reach.

Of all the people in the court, Ronon must not know her plans. His position as Elizabeth's Consort, the Red Jewel that gleamed in the pendant around his throat, and his own volatile personality as a Warlord Prince made him even more of a rogue player than John had been.

Others might hold back, remain silent until it was too late.

Ronon would not hesitate to speak out, to protest.

Strange, that out of all the First Circle, she and Ronon understood each other best - better even than those who shared their respective beds - neither of them born and bred to this court, come to service with Elizabeth late, but no less trusted for that. They had worked in partnership before, fluid as warriors trained by the same master, deadly as the Widow's venom in her left little finger.

She went in early, took her meals in her room, and did not stir until after dark.

And after dark, Elizabeth came to see her.

"Teyla." Slim hands chafed against each other as Elizabeth paced the floor. "About John..."

"Everything has a price." Was that her voice, so steady, so cold? There were times when others had accused her of unfeelingness for her calm. Teyla wondered if Elizabeth was thinking such thoughts now.

"Yes," the other woman said. "But the thing about a price is that it costs..."

Something was rising in Teyla's throat, something that she could not let out or she would be of no use in her plans. "Elizabeth... Lady..." She felt her voice tremble, and closed her eyes to reach for the Grey. It flooded her being, flowing through her mind and soul, drowning fear, anger, and grief, steadying her.

When she opened her eyes again, once more in control, Elizabeth was sitting beside her. "Teyla? If you wish to resign from my service...I won't try to stop you. But the court... We'd miss you. I'd miss you."

Her fingers closed over Elizabeth's hand. "I was not thinking of leaving your service, Elizabeth."

"Well, just as long as you don't." Elizabeth said with a little more wryness, before she sobered again. "Teyla, I'm sorry about John."

"You have said that a number of times already."

"It bears saying." And when Elizabeth leaned across to hug her, Teyla returned the embrace. "I'll... Will you be alright, tonight?"

Alone was what she did not say.

Teyla left no room for doubt in her answer. "Yes," she said. "Thank you. I wish... I wish to be left alone tonight. Please."

Elizabeth nodded. "I'll see to it. I'm..."

"If you say you are sorry again," Teyla interrupted, "Then I shall give Ronon a potion that will make him itch all night." Since Ronon shared Elizabeth's bed, the disturbance would be significant.

One slender brow arched. "Inventive."

"Invective," Teyla replied, smiling. "Thank you for coming, but I am fine. Or I will be."

The kindness remained long after the other woman went, an unexpected sting in Teyla's plans. She would betray her Queen with this action - risking her own service and her own self in the attempt.

But it must be done.

John had been right. Whatever he had been before, Prince Kolya was no longer sane, and his insanity threatened not only Atlantis, but also the other Territories in that part of the realm.

After the decision was made to leave John in the hand of the former Genii leader, Teyla had gone away to weave a tangled web. What she had seen in it had chilled her to the bone, sent her looking for John in the Twisted Kingdom. What Kolya had tried to do in Genii Territory before Sora rose to power and cast him out, he would try elsewhere - but faster. Eventually the stain of it would come to Atlantis: full circle.

This was for John, yes. But it was larger than that.

And although the tangled web vision had been brief and difficult - visions were not her strongest Widow's gift - Teyla had glimpsed a fragment of what might lie in it for her.

...the tree stripped of leaves, flayed of bark, screaming...the air turning to fire, searing flesh and rock alike...the water staining her like blood...

...like Blood...

It terrified her beyond all measure.

--

It was long past the midnight hour, tending towards dawn when she slipped out of the house, moving smoothly behind a Grey sight shield.

There was no-one to see her as she passed smoothly through the door, the Red shield cast around the house no barrier to a Grey-Jewelled Black Widow. There was no-one to see her cross the gravelled driveway, air-walking an inch above the moonlit ground so that her feet might make no sound.

There was no-one to see her stop as she beheld the two figures waiting at the landing web, one of them stretched out on the bench and drowsing, the other standing guard in the cool night.

Teyla dropped the sight-shield, knowing it to be useless. While she might slip past them, they had guessed her moves thus far; who knew what else they might guess.

"You should not be here."

Ronon wasn't surprised by her sudden appearance. "And you should?"

Rodney woke. "Took you long enough," he grumbled. "Do you know how stiff I am?" He stood, stretching his arms. "And save the protest. We're coming with."

She looked from one man to the other - from the talkative Prince to the silent and watchful Warlord Prince. "This is not a pleasure-jaunt."

"Oh, please, like I think we're going to be able to walk into Kolya's stronghold, hoist Sheppard over Ronon's shoulder and walk out of there! You think we don't know that?"

"You've got his location," said Ronon, unquestioning. "And a plan. We can help."

Teyla narrowed her eyes at him. "And what does Elizabeth think of your going against her decision?"

He shrugged, apparently nonchalant, although Teyla could sense his discomfort. "What will John think of you going against his?"

"A Consort flouting the wishes of his Queen is not the same as a Black Widow choosing to weave her own web," Teyla reminded him. "Elizabeth would be well within law and protocol to dismiss you from both Consort's position and court."

Even in the starlight, she could see enough of his expression, his stance, to know what this was costing him. Ronon had been brought to the court as a slave before finding freedom and love in Atlantis; to lose those would scar him - but to sit still when the opportunity to do something was offered...that was harder still. "I swore to serve, to protect, and to obey," Ronon reminded her with a softness that was still deadly in its quiet. "This is serving. Kolya should be dealt with."

She knew better than to argue with a Warlord Prince, but a Prince was a different matter.

"I said to save the protest," Rodney said as she turned towards him. "If he's going, I'm coming along, too. Just accept that we're coming with you after Sheppard."

Looking at them, Teyla knew there was nothing she could do to stop them. Or, there were things, but they would waste time and energy she could not afford.

"You do not even know what I intend to do."

"You're going to get Sheppard back. And you're going to deal with Kolya." Ronon shrugged. "Do we need to know more?"

"You know, if we're going to get a move on before someone hears us..."

"Aural shield," said Ronon.

"Elizabeth," Teyla countered.

"Then you'd better shield us, too," he said with a smirk.

Teyla did so, also throwing up a sight shield in case someone happened to wake and glance out the front windows of the house - unlikely as that was at this hour. She carefully restrained her exasperation with the two males. "This will not be easy."

"Like I said, we're not expecting it to be a case of walk in, walk out," Rodney grumbled. "But we want to do this. And you're going to need our help."

He said it with such certainty, that Teyla could only look at him.

And she had seen two shadows in her tangled web, hovering just on the edge of her vision, unclear. She had thought nothing of it then. But now...

"Very well," she said, gesturing at the Landing Web. "But we must move now."

Teyla was not going to think about how angry Elizabeth would be upon discovering that two of her First Circle, as well as her Consort, had gone against her wishes. Her own absence was bad enough, worse to compound it with Consort and First Circle male.

Elizabeth would be well within law and protocol to dismiss them all from her service.

But Teyla saw the realm from her vision, saw John's broken jewels and shattered soul, saw Prince Kolya standing over all she held dear and precious.

Everything has a price.

Still, as the males moved onto the Landing Web, and Teyla spread her shields over them both, she was grateful that she would not be paying this price alone.

She caught a strand of the Grey web, plucking it the direction of the northwestern borders of Atlantis Territory, and they leaped into darkness.

- fin -

NOTES: This is the first chapter of what is likely to be an equally long sequel to "To Serve A Queen" - however, I don't have time to write the sequel at the present time. I would still appreciate feedback if you're willing to give it, along with an assessment of whether the world makes any sense to those who are unfamiliar with the story. The full text of "To Serve A Queen" is available at my livejournal.