AN: Hey, guys! I know it's been a while again. :( I had a job for a while that kept me busy, but unfortunately it didn't work out. Anyway, I'm back! YAY!

This idea has actually been rolling around in my head for a long time, but I've had a hard time finding the opportunity to put it down to paper, and then to PC. It just so happened that the sga_beya site had a challenge about the first season, and it sparked the memory of this story. If I ever end up linking this story to beya, here's a SHOUT OUT to my peeps over there! Much love you you all! :)

Hope you enjoy!

Title: First Encounter

Author: scarletraven79

Type: StoryFic/Missing Scenes

Summary: When her father is taken from their village, 13-year-old Teyla Emmagan must assume the role as leader of her people. What secrets will she learn, and what will become of her people when a group of strangers comes to the village looking for help?

Spoilers: Um, Season 1, I guess.

Rating: K+ for now, though that may change...

Chapter One

Teyla Emmagan glanced around the large, round hide-covered tent, her dark eyes searching the many faces that surrounded her. Tiny beads of sweat prickled on her neck and back, though they had little to do with the warmth of the structure. Trying desperately to still the fluttering in her stomach, Teyla took a slow breath and then let it out just as slowly.

She was just thirteen years old, too young for the responsibility that would be laid on her shoulders in a matter of moments. There was still much about being a teenager that she wished to discover, things she wanted to learn about herself and others her same age. But circumstances, terrible ones, had intervened and set her here, in the midst of her people.

Teyla gazed at the tall man at her left, noting the sadness in his blue eyes as well as the pride he carried for her. She inclined her head slightly in a nod, and he reciprocated, the lips behind his full beard twitching in a small smile. At her right hand stood a much older woman, with kind eyes and silver-white hair. Before Teyla could utter a word, the woman grasped Teyla's hand in her arthritic one, squeezing it as tightly as she could in reassurance.

"It is time, Teyla," the woman murmured then, giving a single nod toward the opening of the tent. The flaps parted, allowing another villager to enter, and Teyla's heart ratcheted up a notch as he stepped toward her. In his arms he carried her father's cloak, the symbol of his leadership, and when he held it out, Teyla could scarcely catch her breath. There was the last piece of her father, her final physical tie to him. Taken by the Wraith in the last culling, he had been the only other surviving Emmagan, and now Teyla was the very last. Beside her memories of him, the cloak in her clansman's arms would be the only thing she could look to for remembrance, the only item she could clutch in her hands when she missed him at night.

Tears spilled down her cheeks, and again she looked to the tall man.

"Halling. I do not think I can..."

The man shook his head. "You can, and you must. I know how great your sadness is at this moment, but you are our leader now."

"But," she began, but he interrupted again.

"You will do well, Teyla. We all have great confidence in you."

Once more, her gaze turned to the people crowded into the tent. Their faces held so many emotions – hope, fear of the Wraith, happiness at having a new leader, young though she was – and all waited patiently for the ceremony to begin. These were Athosians, a proud and noble people.

Her people.

They were truly hers now, to guide through the years just as her parents had done. She allowed herself to dwell on thoughts of her mother first. She had been a fair and patient leader, her exceptional sense of humor giving her a ready supply of witty remarks. She was a better negotiator than her husband – Teyla's father – and though she held such great office, she often stepped down to perform a midwife's duty, or assist in the harvest when there was a shortage of laborers.

She had been so loved by all in the village that when she became ill and died, it shocked some so greatly that their hearts fell weak, and two of the eldest villagers died soon after her. Teyla was only six years old then, but she could still clearly recall the funeral ceremony, as well as how bitterly her father wept at night when he supposed Teyla was fast asleep. She had thought, at the time, that her father might never recover from the loss, but he had proved to be stronger than his grief. As time went on and turned into years, he found it easier to speak her mother's name without even so much as a hitch in his deep voice.

And speaking of her father...

He was quite tall, his dark hair curled close to his head. His muscular arms were ever ready to wrap around his little Teyla, and he was never afraid to lay a gentle kiss on her sun-warmed hair. Still, he would not hesitate to give her a reproof if it was necessary, and since she had been quite adventurous, it usually was. It was plain that he loved his people, both in the way he dealt with those in the village and in his respect of their customs and traditions. He could sing slightly better than most, and it was he who taught Teyla the songs about the Athosians history, of their greatest battles won and hardest lost.

He was also a wonderful storyteller, and would entertain the young ones in the camp with his tales late into the night, their eager faces fixed upon him, daring hardly to breathe lest they miss a single word. Teyla had only recently become "too old" for these sessions, but she still found herself stopping whatever she had been busy with to listen, her heart thrilling with each word. She always went back to her chore again when his eyes turned toward her, but she knew that he caught her watching each time.

Her heart squeezed again as she recalled those memories. Her father had only been gone a few weeks, but she knew deep inside that he was gone forever. The Wraith never returned those they took, and neither did any escape their clutches. This thought brought a hardness to her insides, just as she knew it did the rest of her people. No matter how many times the Wraith came to attack, the Athosians refused to lose hope, to turn away from their faith in the Ancestors. Despite all the loved ones who had been taken, those who remained would never simply lay down and allow themselves to be culled. They would fight as hard and as long as they needed to.

Suddenly resolved, Teyla nodded sharply.

"Thank you, Halling. And you as well, Charin. You have been great help to both of my parents before me. I would be honored if you would do so as well with me."

The old woman chuckled and patted her hand. "I would never dream of leaving you on your own, dear."

"Nor I," Halling agreed.

With a shared smile over Teyla's head, they stepped forward and took hold of the cloak. Each grasped a corner, holding it open so that its length nearly brushed the ground.

"Today," Halling's voice boomed throughout the tent, "we mourn the loss of our great leader, Torren Emmagan, son of Kaleth, husband to our beloved Turghan, father of Teyla and Raya."

Teyla's eyes immediately snapped to Halling's face. For as long as she had been alive, she had been an only child. Neither of her parents had spoken of a sibling. Who was this Raya, then? Perhaps Halling had simply gotten confused, she mused, but when she looked into his eyes, she saw that was not the case. Though she was beyond curious, Teyla pushed it away and focused on the ceremony. She would speak with Halling later.

"His memory and leadership will live on in our hearts for eternity. And though we are saddened by his death, we can rejoice in the fact that he is now with the Ancestors, and we can welcome our new leader, his daughter Teyla."

The crowd cheered and clapped as Halling and Charin wrapped the cloak around her shoulders, then clasped it at her throat. Charin pressed a gentle kiss on her cheek, then leaned toward her ear and murmured, "Smile, my dear. This is a good and happy thing."

Teyla nodded and grinned for Charin's benefit, though her insides felt ready to burst. It was all so sudden, this change. Her father had not been gone very long. She had not mourned his death enough, and yet now she was taking on his role, expected to lead his people – their people, she corrected – in his place.

Halling took his turn congratulating her, his head bowed as he touched his forehead to her own, his blue eyes closed.

"Your father would be proud," he said, his voice cracking slightly. "I wish he could see this day, see you standing here."

"As do I. I miss him very much." If anyone would understand her fear, her sorrow, it would be Halling.

"I know," he replied. "But I also know he would be pleased to see you take his place. Take comfort in the knowledge that he is no longer suffering."

Teyla nodded for what seemed the thousandth time. "I do," she whispered, unable to make herself speak at normal volume over the pain in her heart. "Thank you."

He resumed his place at her side, and after a long moment to compose herself, Teyla again turned to the throng of villagers.

"I thank you all for your confidence in me, and I promise to lead wisely from this day forward." They were empty words, spoken through custom by each new leader. She was only thirteen; just what did everyone expect from her? Did they really think someone so young could make such important decisions as which crops to plant, or where to put them? Did they think she could negotiate trades with other planets, or create treaties with them?

"Now," she continued, once more feeling the nervous flutter return to her stomach, "to seal my acceptance of this new role, I will sing the history of our people, as my father did, and my mother before him."

There was a brief silence, and then a lilting soprano began, at first quiet and a little shaky but quickly growing in volume. After a moment, it filled the entire building, singing confidently in the Athosian tongue. The voice sounded as if it should have come from a much older person, a professional singer rather than the slightly bony frame of a girl that stood before them. However, no one could deny that it was certainly Teyla singing; they could see and hear the breaths she took between stanzas, and more than once her own accent came through as she pronounced certain words.

As Teyla sang, Charin's eyes filled with tears. She could still recall how Teyla's mother, Turghan, had stood in this very place and sang the same song. Turghan's voice had been strong, like Teyla's, but unlike her daughter, she tended to waver on the higher notes. Clearly, Teyla had been born to sing, a rare thing among a people who tended to be farmers or metal workers, depending on the earth for their living.

Despite all Teyla's protest, Charin also knew that the young woman was born to lead. Her quiet grace was unmatched among the Athosians, and her logic and tact allowed her to solve issues that would befuddle most others. She could negotiate just as well as either of her parents had, getting a fair price for a trade, and had more than once stopped two young people from coming to blows in a disagreement. Though she was still young herself, Teyla tried to understand each age group's particular problems. She jiggled babies on her hip and kept toddlers away from the water's edge, invented games for the older children and taught them how to hunt and track. But she also helped mothers cook meals and repair the men's bows, while still finding time to spend with the elders, listening to their stories of the past and vowing to learn from their mistakes.

Yes, Charin thought as she wiped the tears from her eyes, Teyla would make a wonderful leader.

At last, the song ended, and the Athosians shouted their enthusiasm. When their noise had died down once more, Charin said, "My fellow Athosians, sons and daughters of the Ancestors, today we welcome Teyla Emmagen as our leader. In peace or in battle, in times of plenty or in drought, she will carry the burden of our safety and survival. Our responsibility is to help with that burden as much as possible. A wise man once told me that a leader can only exist if there is someone to be led. Let us lift Teyla up together, to help her be the woman we need."

The crowd cheered even more loudly than before, and Teyla had to fight the urge to clap her hands over her ears. Halling looked over at her and smiled proudly.

He had known all along that the people would embrace Teyla as their leader.

TBC...