6) Words cannot express my gratitude for all of your encouraging reviews! I hope that this last chapter lives up to all of your expectations. Let me know what you think!

Dawn found Teyla awake. She had watched the shifting ceiling of her tent from her bed all night, listening to the wind through the leaves and the distant hum of the ocean. She had to confess that her cracked rib had given her distress as she had run that race, and as she tried to sleep now it was punishing her for her exertion. However, she would not have declined John's playful challenge for the worlds.

The ache of her injury kept her awake, but so also did remembering when she had hugged him. A certain scent, some sort of cologne, had hung about his shirt. All night long, she had striven to banish all images, all thoughts of him from her mind---but the memory of that smell stubbornly remained, nearly driving her mad with longing.

Finally, as the sun broke over the horizon, her newly-acquired lady's maids entered cheerily, bringing her breakfast.

Teyla forced herself to get up and eat, and afterward, with great ceremony, several women brought in Teyla's wedding gown.

It was a light, soft shade of yellow with a full skirt, the back of which trailed at least eight feet behind. White beads in intricate designs adorned the bodice and hem, and the sleeves had been cut to be short, modest and dainty. Though Teyla was unaccustomed to such Luthrian finery, all of the ladies agreed that the style flattered her beautifully---she looked stunning in such a gown, they said. One of the deft-fingered ladies dressed her hair in a style that kept it up off her neck, but let some strands fall elegantly down. They also found yellow and white flowers to place amidst her shining locks.

A full-length mirror was brought in for her and she stood barefoot before it, looking herself up and down. Had she ever looked so beautiful and so sad at the same time? She took an agonized breath. If there had ever been a moment in her life when she wished she would just die---this was that moment.

"What is the matter, miss?" one of the ladies inquired in concern. Teyla swiped at her eyes.

"Nothing is wrong," she tried to tell her.

"You are happy, miss? Is that why you cry?" the maid guessed hopefully.

Happy? No. Not happy. But she had found the courage to tell John Sheppard that she loved him, and he had heard and understood. She could bear anything, now.

VVVVVVVVVVVVVV

Morning light danced across the ocean, dazzling Teyla's eyes as she followed her lady's maids near the edge of the cliff, trailed by the noisy, merry wedding party. Musicians plucked stringed instruments in lively tunes, and two or three of them sang.

Teyla wore no shoes, and the dew of the grass felt cold against her feet. Her maids picked up the train of her skirt for now, so it would not catch on anything. The fresh breeze of the morning blew through the leaves and the grass and all of their clothes, making the trees laugh. Hundreds of birds greeted the dawn, bursting into twittering song and flitting from branch to branch. The sun shone full and bright, and there were no clouds. It was a perfect day for a wedding.

Teyla walked slowly, as if to the scaffold.

She had asked Rodney, Elizabeth, Ronon and Dr. Keller to please leave her alone, and so, rather grimly, they brought up the back of the party, their dour, sad faces in stark contrast to the day.

Teyla turned and faced the fortress ruins where the ceremony was to be conducted. Though the building was ancient, its walls were still mostly intact. Banners, garlands and ribbons hung from the turrets, and everyone around her exclaimed how lovely the place looked in the brilliant morning.

Teyla refused to weep.

She approached the door, and gazed through it into the long room that awaited her. At the far end stood the regally-garbed sacred man who would perform the formalities, and also the king and his entourage. Just to the sacred man's right was shining Prince Faegen, straight as a beech tree, the long train of his scarlet cloak rippling over the young, emerald grass, and bedecked in glittering jewels. He looked incredibly handsome and ruggedly serious.

Teyla suddenly froze. She waited.

Over and over, when she had pictured this moment in her mind's eye, she had stopped just at this point---and then she imagined a voice calling out to her.

Teyla! He would call. Wait! A voice uncultured, yes, but honest and gentle and earnest, would ring out over the hills. A voice that would interrupt this nightmare and save her from this fate. John's voice. Her John.

She waited.

Nothing happened. All that greeted her ears was more singing from the musicians behind her, the rustling of the leaves and the singing of the birds.

"Why are you stopping here?" an older man questioned, smiling. "Your prince waits for you inside!"

A stabbing pain lanced through her chest, but Teyla made herself stride forward and pass through the slight shadow of the doorway. The stone room and its decorations, the whirling and dancing of the party as they entered, even Prince Faegen himself became a blur as she walked numbly but forcefully toward the sacred man.

And all of a sudden she had ascended three steps to a platform and was there, right by the Prince's side. He smiled at her. She could not return it. All of the party settled in behind them, quieting their chatter to hear what the wizened, old sacred man would say in his opening speech.

"To begin, I would ask this: Teyla Emmagan of Athos and Atlantis," the sacred man started. "Please take the hand of Prince Faegen of Luthria."

Prince Faegen extended his broad, strong hand to her. She stared at it, knowing full well that the moment she took it, she would seal her fate. Teyla lifted a shaking hand.

"Teyla!"

She blinked. That voice---it was distant and strained, but still sounded so much like the one in her dreams...

"Teyla, wait! Wait a second!"

Her heart gave a dreadful bang inside her, an electric thrill darted through her veins. She jerked her hand back. She whipped her head around to squint through the sunlit door---only to have her eyes widen at the sight of John Sheppard's silhouette reaching the peak of the hill.

"John," she wanted to say, but barely managed a hoarse whisper. She wanted to pinch herself. Surely he was not here, doing this---

"Teyla..." he gasped, trotting closer, and now she could see him fully. He still wore no shoes, and his pant legs were dirty up to his knees; he bore no sling---only his cast---and he carried three bantos sticks in his good hand. His black hair was in disarray, he was pale and dark under his eyes, he had not shaved, and in his brilliant hazel eyes shone a half-crazed desperation and undisguised vulnerability. He captivated her.

He slowed to a halt, staring at her, breathless. Then, he took a deep, preparatory breath and looked sharply at Prince Faegen.

"I changed my mind."

No one moved. Prince Faegen's brow furrowed.

"I beg your pardon?"

"I'm her guardian---I have a right to do that, don't I?" John asked loudly. Prince Faegen glanced, confused, at his father, then turned intently back to John.

"On what grounds?"

"I don't think you're worthy of her," John answered back simply. He tossed two of the bantos sticks down before the prince. They clattered on the ground. "And so I'll fight you for

her."

Prince Faegen studied the weapons at his feet for a moment, then cocked an eyebrow at John.

"You are injured."

John flashed a grin.

"You scared?" He twirled his bantos stick. Prince Faegen's jaw tightened. Seeing that there was nothing to be done, he reached up and unhooked his cloak, letting it cascade to the ground. Underneath, he wore a tunic, loose pants and boots which, though admittedly royal, would suffice for a fight. He reached down and picked up the bantos sticks, thought a moment, then tossed one aside.

"What's that?" John demanded.

"You only have one," Faegen pointed out. "I will have no unfair advantage that I can

help."

The crowd backed up hastily, murmuring and gasping in shock, disbelieving that this could actually be happening at a wedding! Teyla was no better off than they. In fact, she felt uncharacteristically faint.

The two combatants circled each other on the patch of young grass, Faegen like a composed, ginger lion, John like a cornered wolf.

"Remember, it's first blood," The prince reminded John. "The first one to strike in a fatal place wins."

"Yeah, I remember." In an eyeblink, John attacked. The room echoed with the violent clacking of the sticks against each other. The guests gasped at the lightning speed with which they both struck and countered.

A moment later, they came apart, once again circling. Teyla gazed at John in admiration. He was focusing hard, incorporating everything she had taught him. She hoped fervently it would be enough.

Once more, John lunged at the careful prince. The noise of the battle banged against the walls. Their footwork was matched. If John had been healthy, it could have been an equal duel.

Prince Faegen sidestepped nimbly and aimed a blow at John's head. John twisted, just in time, and so Faegen only landed a glancing blow to John's right shoulder. John staggered back, wincing. He had been forced to use the muscles on his left side to dodge that blow, and it had hurt him.

Teyla's gaze urgently found Ronon, who stood in the far corner. But she knew in an instant he would be no help. He just leaned against the wall, arms crossed, a knowing grin spread all over his face. She bit her lip and returned her attention to the scrap. She would have to trust in John's ability to defend himself, and in Prince Faegen's goodness that would not allow him to take advantage of John's pain.

Indeed, he did not. When he noticed John grimacing, Faegen backed up. However, this gentler treatment appeared to make John angry, for he attacked with a greater ferocity, his weapon flashing so quickly the prince could not track it, and caught Faegen hard in the left elbow. Faegen sprang backward, startled---then fire blazed in his eyes. Teyla sensed that he was finished being gentle.

John gave the prince a deadly look, which was this time returned, and then the duelists came at each other roaring.

Teyla held her breath. Back and forth, they endlessly dodged and struck and countered and parried, grunting and crying out in frustration. The scrum seemed endless. Both heated warriors seemed intent on nearly killing the other.

It happened so quickly that Teyla almost missed it. Faegen executed a whirling move she had never learned---and John only had time to jerk slightly in surprise before his bantos stick was knocked out of his hand. Faegen cracked him soundly on the right side of the head. John went down like he was made of lead.

Faegen withdrew. The hall fell silent. Teyla's first impulse was to run to John's side, but remembering how enraged he had been at Faegen's softer treatment, she did not think that was wise.

It soon became evident that he was not unconscious. He groaned deeply and his brow furrowed dimly. He put an uncertain hand up to his right cheekbone, perhaps wondering if the prince had broken his face.

Squinting his right eye shut, John heaved himself up so he propped up on his elbow, and took a gasping breath.

"Now that I have bested you, do you still think I am unworthy?" the prince wondered darkly.

"Yeah," John got out. Now Prince Faegen was thoroughly bewildered.

"Colonel Sheppard, I do not understand," he confessed, throwing down his weapon.

"Well, I have rules about what makes a guy worthy of having Teyla, here," John indicated Teyla, then managed to get up onto his knees, then stand up unsteadily. However, no one touched him.

"And what are they?" Prince Faegen asked impatiently. "I am willing to take care of her, give her anything she desires; I will not treat her cruelly, or deprive her in any way. She shall be the most honored woman of all my people. What, then, are your terms, Colonel Sheppard?!"

"She has to be happy," John stated, opening both eyes and meeting the prince's gaze directly. "You don't love her. And she doesn't love you. She loves someone else...and someone else loves her." His gaze flicked over to meet hers. Teyla's throat closed. He went on.

"If she was in danger, I'm not sure you would die for her. And if she was unhappy, I don't think you'd be all that miserable," he told him plainly. "So, I think that the guy who loves her, and the guy she loves, would be the best judge of how to make her happy." John shrugged. "So I don't care if you kicked my butt." He leveled a firm stare at the prince. "I'm not letting you marry her when I know she'll just be unhappy."

The prince's eyes narrowed. Slowly, he stalked up to stand before John, his eyes full of scrutiny. John, though unsettled, did not step back, and did not break eye contact. Faegen studied his face. He spoke.

"It is you, isn't it, Colonel Sheppard?" he questioned deliberately. "You are the man who loves her...and who she loves!"

A murmur of great surprise fluttered through the room. Color rushed into John's cheeks but he did not back down.

"What if I am?" he asked defensively. Prince Faegen stared at him for just another moment. Then his face cleared and he burst out laughing. John jerked.

"Colonel Sheppard, why did you not tell me?" the prince crowed. "Though I asked you, you never spoke a word of this to me!"

"Well, I..." John stammered, shocked and blushing even more deeply. "You were betrothed to her, and you're a prince, so---"

Prince Faegen's face transformed into a picture of disbelief.

"And thus I am superior to you?" he finished. He threw his hands in the air. "Heaven above, Sheppard! It is your fame that is as far-flung as the stars! You---John Sheppard, Wraith-Slayer, explorer and military commander of Atlantis---not on equal footing with me, a prince who merely owns a few Wraith ships and has been blessed by fate with a fortunate immunity?" Faegen backed up a little and spoke earnestly. "It is I who have always felt inferior to you, Sheppard, though you may not have known it." His voice lowered. "Far be it from my honor to presume to take a woman that belongs to you."

John stood, stunned. The crowd around him erupted in comment, conversing so loudly that Teyla almost did not hear Prince Faegen speak over them into John's ear.

"Take her. Get her out of here---this place must be unpleasant for her."

John stared at him, still not quite believing it. Faegen grinned and shoved him Teyla's direction.

He stood before her now, slightly lower than she. She gazed down at him, waiting. For just a split second, she feared he was about to disappoint her again.

He lifted his hand, palm up, and held it out to her. Hesitating just a moment, she reached out and placed her hand in his. His fingers closed around hers.

And all of a sudden, he wordlessly turned around and pulled on her. She easily hopped down the stairs and trotted hand-in-hand after him, much to the further bemusement of the guests. They passed through the forbidding doorway and burst out into the brilliant morning.

Ronon, standing near Elizabeth and Rodney in the corner, watched them go and chuckled to himself.

"Well, I guess we know how to change Sheppard's mind about something," Ronon sneered. "Hit him in the side of the head twice."

"Twice?" Elizabeth and Rodney both said at once. Ronon shook his head.

"Never mind."

John led Teyla down a different path, toward a grassy cliff away from the ruins, her train billowing behind her. The view of the vast ocean here was spectacular, and behind them spread a flowering meadow. Finally he slowed to a stop and turned around, letting go of her hand and meeting her eyes. A soft breeze toyed with his unruly hair, and the sunshine set his face aglow. Teyla waited for him to speak.

However, somehow, John had finally realized that while his strength did not lie in his speech, his actions could be far more powerful and eloquent than any words. Thus, he stood about a pace in front of her, closed his eyes, and slowly, deliberately, lowered his head.

Tears sprang to Teyla's eyes. The purposeful way in which he had done that showed without a doubt that he knew what it meant.

Her heart swelling and surging, Teyla took a small step toward him, and tenderly pressed her lips to his bruised cheek where Prince Faegen had just struck him.She shifted slightly and kissed his soft, closed eyelid. She tasted tears.

A pang running through her, she took his face in her hands, drew forward and pressed her forehead to his, speaking aloud the traditionally-unspoken answer to his gesture.

"By my heart and by my life," she whispered ardently. "Your heart and life are safe with me."

He drew in a sharp, shaking breath, and slowly lowered his head so it pressed against the side of her neck. She slid her arms up around his shoulders, and he wrapped his one good arm around her waist. The embrace, rather than filled with passion, was infinitely gentle, for each one was suddenly, keenly considerate of the injuries the other had sustained. Teyla could have remained there forever, basking in his warm arms.

"Teyla," he murmured into her hair, his voice thick with emotion. "Teyla, are you

happy?" He swallowed hard. "That's all I really care about, you know. I know now that I couldn't stand it if you weren't."

He withdrew a little, wanting to see her face. He was crying, and could not stop his tears. They glistened in his vibrant eyes and ran down his cheeks, catching the rays of sunshine. She had never seen him shed a tear before, but she had always known that the capacity for such strong tenderness had always been present in his heart. That was why she loved him.

She beamed up at him and brushed his tears away with her fingertips.

"Yes, John," she assured him. "You have made me very happy today."

Hearing this, John's eyes took on a new light, and he gently leaned into her. Softly, sweetly, with lips that tasted of happy tears, he kissed her.

EPILOGUE:

Two months later, Atlantis bustled with the second visit of Prince Faegen. He and his fleet had been in the area and asked if they could be permitted to drop in. His request had been granted without hesitation, now that John Sheppard could finally deem him a "pretty good guy," and was willing to count him among his friends.

The evening of arrival, all of them dined in the mess hall, but the tables remained in their original, separate arrangement. John, Teyla, Ronon and Rodney occupied a table that sat a little distance away from the crowded one Prince Faegen occupied.

John had recently been allowed to take off his cast, and was enjoying the use of his left arm again. He lifted a drink to his lips and glanced over at Prince Faegen's table. He saw the Prince and Elizabeth sitting next to each other, conversing animatedly.

"Hey," John nudged Teyla confidentially, grinning. "Look at Elizabeth and the prince. They're...getting along pretty well."

"Oh, for crying out loud," Rodney said in exasperation.

"You're kidding, right?" Ronon raised his eyebrows.

"You seriously think that Elizabeth would go out with a prince?" Rodney said skeptically.

"Sure, why not?" John countered as he went to take another drink. "She told me once that Cinderella was her favorite story."

Teyla cocked a warning eyebrow at him.

"Do not take to match-making, John. You did badly enough for yourself."

He swallowed quickly and put his cup down.

"I disagree," he protested. "I think I actually did quite well for myself." And he kissed her on the forehead. Contentedly, Teyla leaned her head onto his shoulder, smiling down at her glittering engagement ring.

THE END