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Chapter Text

The sun was high at midnight on the day

They rode beneath its gleam and heat to war

In Abydos, from whence a cry arose

A plea for aid, deliverance from Ra.

Prince Daniel and his knight, Sir Jack

Arrived at night, but with no moon;

By horse they came, in desperate search

Of those Ra had not yet devoured.

The true King of that place, Kasuf

Was hidden underneath the land;

His daughter had him taken there

The princess, Sha’re, cleverest of all

Had summoned up the Tau’ri men

Despite the Fiery Warlock’s awful might,

She found them in the dunes, and brought

Them down to meet her people in the dark.

It’s there that she revealed the tyrant’s fearful

And corrupt design: to turn to glass

The white-hot sand, that all the people there

Would die; in dying, fuel his life for e’er.

To Ra’s great palace marched the Prince and Knight

Through dust and wind a thousand leagues they trudged

To meet the one who once was but a man

And liberate the souls enslaved to him.

A hundred swords they faced along the way,

And winds to rend their skins from bones,

And beasts and curses such as we have not 

Seen since; but perseverance led at last

To him they sought. He laughed to see them–

Two, without an army by their side.

But they were three, and Sha’re’s cunning plan

Had led her and her kin to slay the beasts

Which guarded sacrosanct his ill-got throne.

She found the relic whence he drew his strength

And held it up to dash it on the ground

As Daniel and his gallant knight did strike

At long last, with one arm, one mind, one breath

They brought the Sun-God well-deservèd death.

Chapter Text

Daniel’s wedding day terrified Jack, even more than Ra had. Evil sorcerers, he could handle, but the nobles worming their way into Cheyenne Keep for the celebration made his skin crawl. Even after Abydos, Daniel’s position as prince was far from secure— an adopted heir to the throne had been unheard of until now. Any house with even a drop of royal blood had more of a claim than he did to the Tau’ri throne. If there was ever a time to exploit that… 

Daniel didn’t understand the danger, of course. He stood behind the balustrade near Jack, overlooking the courtyard. Sha’re was next to him, wearing a heavily-embroidered version of the robes she wore every day in Abydos. Daniel’s smile was the widest it had ever been, and he waved at the nobles with an enthusiasm Jack hadn’t seen since they were children. Why shouldn’t he be happy? The music, the banners, the drinking and dancing that had taken over the place since their return would lift anyone’s mood; the people of Abydos were in Daniel’s debt; and he was now betrothed to the most beautiful woman anybody in Tau’ri had ever seen. It was the first time Jack had seen him wear his circlet without looking like it might crush him. 

It wasn’t Daniel’s job to be the pessimist; it was Jack’s. So he stood behind the couple, ready to flag down the castle’s archers at a moment’s notice.

A break in the procession gave Daniel a moment’s pause. He cocked his head at Jack, with that brilliant smile still plastered across his face. 

“Is everything alright?” he asked. “You look…”

“Like half the people you’re waving at down there want you dead?” Jack said.

“I— something like that.” Daniel’s smile faded slightly.

From behind them came Sir Teal’c’s voice: “Sir Jack is right to be concerned for your safety, Your Highness. Your victory may have earned you much respect, but some of the Tau'ri may still see you as a pretender.” The old knight’s face was stern, but not unkind. “Even though the King has claimed you as his heir.”

“You’re probably right.” Daniel glanced down again, into the courtyard. Something twisted in Jack’s chest. 

“To Hell with them,” Jack interjected. “Adopted or not, you’re the prince. Pretenders don’t kill gods.”

Sha’re, catching Jack’s gaze, took Daniel’s hand. The smile immediately returned to his face. 

“You have more than earned your place here, my Daniel,” she said, planting a kiss on his cheek. 

“I hope so,” Daniel laughed. “I’ve certainly got the scars to prove it.”

“If anybody disagrees, they can tell it to my sword,” added Jack, patting the weapon at his side. It was only partly a joke. 

Sir Teal’c raised an eyebrow. “You should be cautious to say such things, Sir Jack. Nothing would please Lord Maybourne more than to put his own man in your place.”

It was Daniel’s turn to raise an eyebrow. “I thought he wasn’t coming.”

“That was my impression as well,” said Teal’c. “Yet, here he is.”

Sure enough, down in the courtyard, Lord Harry Maybourne waved a languid greeting to the group. He looked as pompous as Jack knew he would, in a black silk doublet that had to be cooking him alive in the sun. He was surrounded, as always, by retainers— he never missed a chance to remind the King that he had forces of his own, even if every other noble house had them too. 

“Damn it,” Jack said. Before he could move to apprehend Maybourne, Sir Teal’c’s hand landed on his shoulder. 

“He was invited here. We must not harm him.”

“Who is he?” Sha’re asked. 

“A slimy, rotten—” Jack began.

“My cousin,” Daniel said grimly. “He made a petition to the other nobles to get back in the line of succession— rather, to get me out of it.”

Sha’re’s eyes narrowed. “Surely they did not support him.”

“None of the ones with brains did,” Jack said. 

“I think that’s underselling it a little,” said Daniel.

It was far from the only thing Maybourne had done. He had a nasty habit of trying to undermine Daniel any chance he got— he’d been the first to oppose sending troops with them to Abydos, and the other nobles joined him. It had nearly killed the Prince and Jack both.

Jack was about to interject when the door crashed open and a tangle of blue robes and gold talismans burst through it. Sir Teal’c’s eyebrow inched closer to his hairline. Daniel moved to catch it, and out of the chaos emerged—

“Magister Carter.” Teal’c nodded, as if that made sense of all of this. The court wizard righted herself, with some assistance from the Prince, and made a quick bow. 

“Highness. Sir Teal’c. Jack.” Sam hadn’t bothered with Jack’s title in years. She didn’t need to. “We have a problem.”

“What’s that?” Jack asked. 

Sam looked over the balustrade at Maybourne and his company. “Never mind. It seems like you already know.”

Daniel’s lips had tightened to a thin line. “Don’t I ever.”

Maybourne had taken to chatting with another lord, but glanced up occasionally at the group.

“I’m going to go greet him,” Daniel said at length. “See if I can find out why he came.”

Sha’re’s jaw was set. “I shall go with you.”

Jack didn’t like it, but he nodded. Daniel was better than he thought he was at knowing others’ intentions. It’s how he’d survived at court this long. 

“I’ll keep an eye out from up here. If he tries anything—”

“I know,” Daniel said, and down the stairs he went.

After he had gone, Sir Teal’c said, “You worry for him.”

Jack kept his face neutral. “You don’t?”

Sir Teal’c looked down at the courtyard, where Maybourne appeared to be having a perfectly civil conversation with his future king. “On the contrary,” he said. “I fear he will face much difficulty, even now.”

“Think he can handle it?”

“That remains to be seen.”

Jack was sure it was a lovely ceremony, but he couldn't have told anyone a thing about it. He'd been too busy watching Maybourne for signs of danger. The nobleman had been perfectly well-behaved— which was exactly the problem. It was never a matter of whether Maybourne would do something, it was a matter of when and what that “something” would be.

Jack was still watching him at the feast. He stood in one corner of the great hall with a cup of wine, moving it between his hands, pretending to drink. Maybourne was across the room with some noblewoman, spinning all kinds of tales to try and make her laugh. Prick. 

The smell of chalk and incense finally broke his concentration. Sam had appeared to his left.

“You don't want to dance?” She asked. Most of the guests had finished eating, and the middle of the hall was full of them— even Daniel was dancing. The torchlight made his velvet doublet almost glow.

Jack shook his head. “I think I'll live.

Sam smiled, a glimmer of mischief on her face. “You're going to let Maybourne ruin your best friend's wedding for you?”

Jack fully turned to look at her. “I wasn't going to let him do anything; that's why I was watching him.” Sam rolled her eyes, but Jack continued, “If you wanted me to dance with you, Magister, you could just ask.”

Sam beamed, and Jack placed his cup on the table nearby. She and Jack made their way to the center of the floor, Sam's various amulets and charms jingling like little bells. 

Jack had never been much of a dancer, but he kept pace. The court wizard was nothing if not patient with him— even when he tripped over her robes, nearly knocking them both into another couple. 

“Someday you'll have to tell me how you killed Ra but can't dance a pavane,” Sam smirked.

“I contain multitudes,” said Jack. His gaze flicked between the wizard and Maybourne, who was helping himself to another cup of wine. 

Sam raised her eyebrows. “What do you think he's up to?”

“I don't know,” Jack said. “But if he's half the scheming bastard I think he is, he's got something up his sleeve.”

“I hope not. I don’t think the King's heart could take it,” Sam said.

Jack looked toward the high table, where old King George was watching the festivities and chatting with Master Harriman, the castle steward. It had been a long time since the King had been up for dancing, but he was still a conversationalist— even with servants. Whatever Walter was saying, the King was interested. Jack would always wonder how he managed to do that and still hold a room with the kind of authority he did. 

“I don’t know,” Jack said. “The old man’s stronger than we give him credit for.”

In the middle of it all, Sam stopped. “Something’s wrong.”

“What is it?” Jack asked, scanning the room. Lord Maybourne was gone. “Oh.”

“There’s a disturbance in the corridor,” she said. Her hand went to one of her talismans, the one she used to track the flow of magic in the castle. “Where’s Lord Maybourne?”

Sam tore out of the crowd, moving nimbly between dancing courtiers and toward a side door, mostly used by servants. Jack followed close behind her, with a glance back to make sure Daniel was still safe. 

He and Sha’re were still dancing. Good. 

When Jack burst through the door, Sam had conjured a ball of light, about the size of an apple. It was a violent green. In its glow stood Maybourne, holding the hand of some frightened noblewoman. Jack’s hand went to his broadsword. 

When Maybourne saw him, he smiled. His teeth reminded Jack of a snake’s scales. 

“Sir Jack,” said the nobleman, “Would you please have a word with your court wizard?”

Sam turned her head slightly, but didn’t take her gaze off Maybourne. “He was the source of the disturbance.”

Maybourne's smile never wavered. “What kind of disturbance?”

“What kind of magic were you doing?” Jack asked. 

Maybourne raised his hands, one of which held some sort of plant. “I was just showing Lady Anise a trick, that’s all.” 

“Open your hand,” Sam demanded. 

Maybourne laughed. “Really, all this for a little light spell?”

“You heard her,” Jack said. He started to draw his blade— just enough to show he was willing to use it. Anise moved behind Maybourne.

The nobleman slowly, deliberately opened his fist. Sam examined what he was holding closely. 

“Fleabane and iron filings,” she said, dispelling her ball of light. The corridor was left darker, with just the flickering glow of torches. She turned fully to Jack. “It really was just a light spell. Apprentice-level.” She didn’t meet Jack’s eyes. 

Jack let his blade fall back into its sheath, trying not to swear. 

“Silly thing to leave your Prince alone over, hm?” Maybourne chuckled. 

Jack was about to retort when the music behind them stopped. He looked at Sam, who looked back at the closed door. The air was still.

Then, a scream tore through the air.

It was coming from the hall.

Chapter Text

By the end of the pavane, Daniel’s head ached from the weight of his circlet. The court was applauding. This new spark, added to the sights and sounds he’d withstood all day, singed his nerves.

The sight of his wife, though, felt like cool water. She was dressed in pale blue silk for which King Kasuf had spared no expense, and her ladies had braided her hair into a  crown-like style Daniel couldn’t even begin to comprehend.  

“I— you look like something out of a fable.”

Sha’re laughed. “Is that so? What is it that I look like, exactly?”

Daniel felt his face grow warm. “Like— like the queen of some fairy court. You’re just…” his words were escaping him. He was talking with his hands again.

“You are very kind, my Daniel.” 

One day, he thought, hearing that might start to lose its wonder. Tonight, that day seemed as far away as the moon. He had the sense that, so long as she called him that, everything might be alright. They'd been through so much; they deserved a soft epilogue.

But her brow creased as the musicians prepared for the galliard. 

“ Is it well with you? ” he asked in cautious Abydonian. 

Sha’re blinked, hesitating just long enough for Daniel to wonder if he’d gotten the pronunciation wrong. 

“ A bad feeling ,” she said finally. “ We should dance. It will pass .”

Ever the devoted lover, Daniel took his position next to her. “ I won't let anything happen to you ,” he said. Not that he was much of a fighter. And Maybourne was definitely planning something — where was he, anyway? Daniel didn’t see him.

Sha're smiled. “ I know. It is not myself I fear for. ”

Daniel’s brow furrowed. “ If something has happened, you can tell me .”

She shook her head. “ I am only… ill at ease. ”

And that was the end of that.

Even so, he scanned the room for Jack. Sha’re’s “bad feelings” had a tendency to come true. They were how she’d known to make a hiding place for her people before Ra came, and how she’d known to call for help. They were how she’d known where to look for his talisman. This was to say nothing of the fact that his conversation with Maybourne had been… off . The lord had been perfectly civil. He’d even addressed Daniel as “Your Highness,” something he’d never done in the twenty-odd years since Daniel became a prince. If anything, he’d been more polite than normal.

And now Maybourne was missing.

If he could just find Jack, maybe his unease would dissipate. Jack always had a plan for anything that might go wrong. But Jack was nowhere to be seen.

Daniel’s stomach turned over. He tried to focus on the dance, rather than the fact that he was unarmed. He had nothing concrete, just, well, a bad feeling. One, two, three, four, five, six, one— it felt like the music was moving too quickly, coming out of rhythm.

Then, out of nowhere, the music stopped. 

Everyone looked to the musicians at once. King George had noticed too. He stood as if to speak, but the musicians didn’t seem to notice anything had gone wrong. Their fingers still moved over their instruments.

Then, the torches all went out. 

The room was silent for a moment. The only light came from the waning moon in the windows. A guard went to try and re-light a torch. It wouldn’t catch; he gave up. 

A flood of relief washed over Daniel when he saw that same guard heading toward them. He recognized the man once he got closer: Sir Charles, an old friend of Jack's. He'd been with them in Abydos, a much-needed source of humor (even if most of it was at Daniel's expense).

There was no humor in his eyes now. He didn’t even look at the Prince, just put a hand on Sha’re's shoulder.

“Come with me,” he said.

“What’s going on?” Daniel asked. “Where’s Jack?”

Sir Charles only stared at Sha’re. “Come with me.”

I might as well be talking to a wall . Daniel began, “Sir Charles—”

Sir Charles's eyes began to glow. Something appeared on his forehead— a symbol. A serpent.

Sha're screamed.

Daniel would pick apart what happened next for the rest of his life. 

Someone behind him— no, multiple someones— seized him and pulled him to the ground before he could react. The only thing he would remember about their faces was the way their eyes were lit from the inside. It was like they were on fire… like the eyes of Ra. The stone floor scraped against his back as they dragged him.

“Sha’re!” He kicked and thrashed and finally got free. One of his elbows cracked against the flagstones. “Sha’re!”

She was surrounded, and there was so much space between them. Several knights, men from the King’s house and Maybourne’s and every house in between had circled around her. Sha’re threw herself at them, trying to batter her way out with her bare fists. They barely flinched. She wore silk, and they wore maille. 

“Daniel!” she called. “My Daniel!”

He sprinted toward her with everything he had. A sword, my kingdom for a sword! Could he take one from one of the knights? Could he make it that far? They were chanting something— what was it?

Everyone was screaming. 

He shouldered through the mass of people, tripping over nobelwomen’s trains and stumbling over noblemen’s boots until his hand found a scabbard. Sha’re’s eyes found his. Then a knight’s fist found Daniel’s chest. 

He staggered back, the wind knocked out of him. Without thinking, he tried to launch himself back at the circle of men, but someone had grabbed him by the shoulders. Not again. Not tonight. He wheeled around to face his attacker. 

It was Jack. 

All Daniel could think to say was, “Help me.”

But it was too late. 

Jack’s face was lit up in livid green all of a sudden. The knight’s face fell, and what was left of the air left Daniel’s lungs; he knew what had happened. Still, he turned around.

A lute fell to the floor, clattering as it broke. Someone choked back a sob. The torches were lit again, and everything was bathed in odd warmth. Where the knights had stood— where Sha’re had stood— it was like nothing had ever been there at all. Daniel’s feet carried him there without his permission, and he watched Jack try to steady him from outside himself. The king said something from across the room, but Daniel didn’t hear it.

He was shepherded to a chair. His elbow and rib cage felt like they were full of broken glass. He breathed shallowly to try and avoid the pain. Whether he sat there for minutes or for years, he couldn’t tell. Voices echoed around him: Sam’s, Jack’s, his father’s, Teal’c’s. 

There was a hand on his shoulder. 

“Daniel?” Jack said. “Daniel, look at me.”

But Daniel couldn’t take his gaze off the place where Sha’re had vanished. “How…”

Jack moved in front of him. His mouth was set in a firm line. “Stop looking at the floor.”

“Jack—” Daniel managed. 

“We’re going to get Dame Fraiser. She’s going to look you over.” The knight’s tone was clipped. “The castle’s been locked down. Nobody’s getting in or out. Do you hear me?”

“Yes,” Daniel said. “I—”

“Sam is making sure everybody’s accounted for,” Jack continued. “I—”

Daniel’s breath was starting to come back to him. “Where were you?” he asked. He hadn’t meant to ask it that way, but then, nothing tonight went the way it should have.

Jack’s face was stone. “I was distracted.”

“By what?”

A voice from behind Jack prevented his response. Daniel looked up to see Kasuf, the King of Abydos, his father-in-law. The old King stood tall, but Daniel saw his hands shake as he adjusted his white robes. He rose to his feet on instinct, though his legs didn’t feel up to the task.

“Good Father.”

“Good Son,” Kasuf said. His voice shook as he stumbled over Daniel’s language. “What has happened here? Where is my daughter? ”

Daniel’s heart plummeted. “I— I do not know.” 

Kasuf bowed his head. His shoulders trembled, only for a moment. “Who was responsible?”

Daniel had no answer for him. 

“That’s just what we’re going to find out.” King George arrived behind Kasuf. He clapped a hand on the other king’s shoulder. Teal’c was close behind him, watching. “Are you alright, son?”

Daniel took a breath, rode a fresh wave of pain, and nodded. “I will be.”

“Good. Jack—”

“The doors are bolted, Majesty. I checked them myself.” Then he added, “The guards are conducting a sweep of the castle just in case.”

“Thank you. And Sam?”

Jack nodded. “Sam’s checking the wards. She’ll be back within the hour.”

“You’re not hurt?”

“No, sir.”

Across the hall, the crowd parted. It was Dame Janet Fraiser— though calling her by her christened name was an infamously bad idea— with her usual cloud of apprentices and her leather bag of supplies. It appeared she’d thrown on an apron over her gown, since she had no time to change. She set the bag down in the middle of the room, rolled up her sleeves, and began giving orders. The apprentices scattered like apple blossoms through the crowd, and Fraiser herself came marching over before giving a short bow. 

“Your Majesty— Majesties,” she corrected herself. “Who’s injured?”

“That’d be me,” Daniel said quietly. 

Fraiser gestured for him to sit down. “What happened?” She put two fingers on his neck, feeling for a pulse. 

Daniel’s heart sped up again. “I—”

“You don’t need to go over it all. Just tell me how you got hurt.” She pulled a roll of bandages from one of her apron pockets. 

“I was pulled onto the floor by some of the knights. I hit my elbow trying to get away.” Daniel felt his mind slipping away from him again. He focused on the pain; it was clear and simple. “One of them hit me pretty hard about here.” He gestured to the front of his torso, right below his chest. 

Dame Fraiser took his injured arm and tried to straighten it from its resting position. It sent white-hot pain through Daniel’s shoulder, and he cried out. Jack looked away.

“It’s definitely broken,” she said. “I’m going to take a look at your rib cage. Can you take off your doublet?”

With some effort, Daniel obliged. Over the top of his shirt, Fraiser pressed in gently along his ribs. When she reached the spot where he’d been hit, he winced. 

“That’s it.”

She pursed her lips. “It doesn’t feel broken, but the bone may be bruised.” She went back to set Daniel’s arm, then turned to the king. “Your Majesty, if I may, he’s going to need rest— a lot of it. I can set the elbow, but the rib will need time to heal.”

George nodded. “Jack, take him somewhere safe for the time being. Don’t take your eyes off of him; if anything else happens, I don’t want him to be the first to find out.”

“Father, wherever Sha’re is—” Daniel interjected. 

“We don’t know what's going on at the moment. I won’t risk having you at the scene any longer.”

“His Majesty is right.” Maybourne was off to one side, holding a cloth to a cut on his face. We can’t have the crown prince risking his neck again tonight, can we?”

Teal’c raised an eyebrow. Jack looked like he wanted to say something— and for once, he didn’t. Daniel stared at him a moment, incredulous. 

“Jack, please—”

“He’s not wrong,” Jack said. He was staring Maybourne down. Daniel knew that look: Jack was hiding something. 

“One must wonder where you were when the fighting began, Lord Maybourne,” Teal’c said. “But I do not believe now is the time to discuss it.”

“I agree, Teal’c,” said the King. He looked at Daniel, not unsympathetically. “We’ll discuss what to do in an hour or two. In the meantime—”

Daniel held his arm, now fully braced. It wasn’t agonizing anymore, but it ached like hell. “I understand.”

Jack put a hand on his back and escorted him out of the hall without a word.

Chapter Text

The corridors were chaos— like someone had kicked over a hornet’s nest and walked away. Jack couldn’t hear himself think. Of course, the closer they got to Daniel’s quarters, the more things thinned out— nobody had a reason to be in that wing. The guards on duty had already checked it. 

Jack never liked the way the castle echoed up here.  

Daniel’s shoulders were tense. He hadn’t said a word since they’d left the hall, to Jack or to anybody. No doubt he was angry; the shock had worn off, and it wasn’t the kind of thing Jack expected him to take lying down. 

So when Daniel held the door for him, he was confused. He paused for a moment, but Daniel only gestured inside.

“You’re supposed to keep an eye on me, aren’t you?”

“Right.”

Daniel’s rooms were a lot like he was: bright, warm, and kind of a mess. There were books stacked on every possible surface. Daniel’s usual doublet was buried under three or four of them, atop one of two carved wooden chairs near the fire. The cushion for that chair was underneath it— he’d told Jack once that this was to stop him from getting too comfortable and falling asleep reading. The fire had died down a while ago, but Daniel was already lighting a candle from the embers. 

Jack closed the door. Someone would come find them soon. They always did.

It felt like all the sound had been sucked out of the room. 

“Daniel?”

“Jack.” Daniel didn’t bother taking the books off of his chair. He just pulled the cushion from underneath it and sat down before picking up a poker to nudge the fire back to life with. 

“Are you…” Jack knew better than to ask if Daniel was alright. Who would be?

“I’m alive,” Daniel said. The flames came to life, reflecting off his hair. “What about you?”

Cautiously, Jack took a seat in the chair across from him. Daniel didn’t acknowledge it.

“I’m…” I’m sorry, I’m worried, you almost got yourself killed. “I’m here,” Jack replied. 

“Right. But you weren’t there. When… when it happened.”

Ah. That. The fire wasn’t roaring now, but it began to crackle gently. “I thought I saw something. It doesn’t matter.” Sam didn’t need to be implicated in this. She had enough on her plate.

Daniel looked at him, finally. “How can you say that?” There was a new sharpness to his tone.

Jack looked at Daniel. “You know that’s not how I meant it. I just mean… nothing came of it. It was stupid.”

“Really? Because I happened to notice you and Maybourne went missing at almost the same time. What was that?”

Jack scowled. “What?”

“I just— I don’t know what to think.” Daniel paced across the floor to the bed. “We fought Ra together. We killed him together. And then, you disappear and my wife is gone. ” He looked Jack dead in the eye, with a coldness he’d never seen before. “And you held me back before I could try to —”

Jack’s fist curled. “You would have died! Do you understand that?”

Daniel stepped toward him. “Do you? If you had been there sooner—”

“But I wasn’t. And there’s nothing I can do about it now, so if you would just lay off—”

“Lay off?” Daniel laughed harshly. “You won’t even tell me what you were doing. I want to understand why my best friend stopped me from saving my wife, and— and you can’t even bring yourself to explain it.”

“Sam said she felt a disturbance!” Jack admitted, finally. “We tracked it. It was just Maybourne, hiding in a corridor doing a stupid little light spell. There. Are you happy?”

Daniel pinched the bridge of his nose. “She feels a lot of disturbances where you’re concerned.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” If he weren’t a prince, and he hadn’t just lost his wife…

“Look. She could tell you the sky was falling and you’d be at her side without a second thought. But she doesn’t need—”

“Not this again.” 

“Yes! This again!” Daniel nearly shouted. “I thought we understood each other.”

“And I thought you’d learned something in Abydos!” Jack snapped. 

“Like what?” Daniel gave him a withering glare. 

“Like the fact that you can’t save anybody— let alone your wife— if you die! Like the fact that it is my job to keep you alive—” Jack jabbed a finger in Daniel’s direction— “and not her!”

Daniel looked like he’d been slapped. He clenched and unclenched his fist, avoiding Jack’s gaze. 

The fire was burning properly now. 

Jack’s throat was tight.

“We have to do something, Jack,” Daniel finally said. His voice was hollow.

A moment’s silence passed. Daniel’s kind of quiet always spelled bad things to come. Jack wanted to— he didn’t know what he wanted. To fix it? Change it so he’d been there? 

But it was too late for that. All he could do now was damage control.

A knock pierced through the thickness in the air, and Jack answered it.

It was Fraiser. 

“The King sent me,” she said. “Everyone’s in the hall.”

The walk into the hall was too short. Jack had an idea of what they were in for, and as they all stepped through the doors, he wished he didn’t.

It was odd, Jack thought, that there wasn't any blood on the floor— any sign of the struggle. Of course there wasn’t. No one had died. But it felt like there should be something. Instead, there was a flock of nobles crowding around what Jack assumed was the King, looking like a bunch of gilded chickens. Sir Teal’c presided over all of it, the lone, ominous rooster.

“Silence!” Sir Teal’c boomed. The nobles rippled out, finally giving the King some breathing room. “The prince has arrived. We shall continue this discussion in an orderly manner.”

Jack’s jaw was tight. There were more people here than he expected. 

“Thank you, Sir Teal’c.” The King looked at the nobles directly in front of him. “If you could make some space for my son…”

The waters parted. Daniel glanced back at Jack, then waded into the fray, with Jack close behind. 

The King looked tired. He was still dressed for his son’s wedding, and Jack would have bet good money that he’d never left the room even after the castle was secured. 

“Are you alright?” King George asked Daniel, quietly. Daniel nodded. “Good.” Then, to the crowd, he said, “I’m glad you’re all safe. I want to make an apology first, to Kasuf.” The King of Abydos moved closer, with far greater ease than Daniel had. King George said, with a heaviness Jack hadn’t seen in years, “Your daughter went missing on our watch. Even without knowing her attackers’ purpose, or what magic they had at their disposal, it appears we let our guard down too quickly.”

Before Kasuf could respond, Daniel took his hands. “Good Father, I will find her. Wherever she is, whatever’s happened, I’ll bring her back.” He turned to his father. “I can be ready to set out by morning.” 

Kasuf squeezed Daniel’s hands. A fresh wave of guilt crashed against Jack’s chest.

“Now, son, slow down. We don’t know where you’d be going.”

“Then we can find out, can’t we? Magister Carter?” 

The court wizard was tense. She looked at her King, then at Daniel, then at Jack. “If– If you give me something of hers, preferably something she wore, maybe I can find where she was taken. But without knowing exactly how she was transported— it’s a long shot.”

“We’ll at least give it a try,” King George responded. “Have you got any idea what happened to our people, Magister?”

“I’m afraid not, Your Majesty. Based on what I saw, it’s some sort of… artificial possession. There aren’t enough spirits anywhere near the castle, let alone spirits with the kind of strength they’d need to possess someone.”

“We’ve seen this kind of thing before,” Jack added. “The thing with their eyes, it was—”

“It was just like Ra,” Kasuf said. “They glowed.”

You could have heard a pin drop after that. The stories of what Ra did in Abydos— what he’d threatened the whole world with— had spread quickly. There wasn’t a soul in that room who didn’t understand the implication.

There was a nervous, wheezing laugh. Maybourne had made his way to the center of things.

“I thought— pardon me, Sir Jack, but didn’t you tell us all that Ra was dead?”

“He is,” Jack and Daniel said, at the same time. 

“Then how could his kind of magic be used to attack us? If he’s dead, as you say….”

“What the hell are you implying, Maybourne?” Jack snapped. 

“Sir Jack,” Daniel said, by way of a warning. Jack ignored it. He’d failed to defend Daniel once tonight; he wasn’t going to do it again. 

“Say what you mean. I dare you.” Jack’s sword was heavy at his side. 

“If I may, Your Majesty,” Maybourne said, sweeping into an obnoxious bow, “If Ra is… somehow… alive, then some would call it unwise to send your only heir into whatever new territory he’s claimed. Especially when our own people have been compromised.”

So that was his play. No matter how the King dealt with it, Maybourne would have won: 

If Daniel went after his wife, and anything that happened to him proved Maybourne right.

If the King sent someone else, Daniel wouldn’t be able to focus on anything else— he’d slip up. 

“I do not believe our own people will be targeted again,” Sir Teal’c interjected. 

“What makes you say that?” asked the King.

“I saw the symbol that appeared on the possessed men. It is one I am familiar with— the sigil of a necromancer who haunted my own home before I came to Tau’ri.”

“A necromancer?” Magister Carter said. “You told us—”

“I have said that a tragedy befell my people on the island of Chulak some years ago, which is why I came here.” Sir Teal’c’s tone was even, but his shoulders had tensed slightly— Jack suspected he was the only one who noticed. “That is true. I had hoped that our defeating Ra would discourage Apophis from acting against us. It appears that hope was foolish.”

“What happened on Chulak?” Daniel asked.

“Much the same as what occurred in Abydos. Men, women and children were sacrificed to maintain the necromancer’s immortality.

But the people of Chulak were better armed. Soon, Apophis resorted to commanding spirits loyal to him to enter the bodies of their— our strongest warriors.”

“How?” Sam asked. 

“He invited them to a feast. He said he wished to make peace with them,” Sir Teal’c answered. “They were deceived.”

“Why didn’t you tell us this?” the King asked. 

“I did not wish you to believe that I had been compromised as well.”

“Why didn’t he come after you?” Sam asked. “You had to be one of the strongest warriors around.”

“My master, Bra’tac,” Sir Teal’c said. “He told me not to attend the feast, to flee the land as far as I could.” He paused. “I came here.”

And he never told a soul, Jack thought. 

The King’s brow was furrowed. “This complicates things. Magister Carter, see what you can find. Daniel, give her whatever she needs. We’ll get a war council together in the morning, when we can all think clearly.” He was looking at Jack. 

“Father—” Daniel began, but the King held up a hand.

“I’ve just been informed that a necromancer who took over an entire nation might be responsible. Yet, the men who took Sha’re didn’t hurt anyone; they only took her. Do you know what that looks like?” he asked.

Daniel looked to Jack, as if he expected backup. His gut twisted. 

It felt like he was holding Daniel back all over again, but Jack answered the King’s question:

“It looks like a trap.”

Chapter Text

Daniel hadn’t felt this way since he was twelve.

He’d been a happy child, following his parents around Cheyenne Keep, absorbing every sight and sound and piece of information thrown his way. He was even included in the process, as he got older— his parents would show him the texts they translated, from the Ancients. They’d ask him for his help. Of course, he realised later that they already knew the answers to their questions. It was their way of teaching him to be the kind of scholars they’d been: always curious, always learning, always ready to hear another perspective.

The one time he didn’t come with them, that was when it happened. Some people down in the village had found an Ancient building while digging a root cellar into the hillside. His parents had thought it might be a library. It wasn’t even supposed to take them very long; they only went to go and see it, to see if it might be safe. 

So he’d stayed home. 

He thought Master Harriman was playing a trick on him at first. He’d sat Daniel down, and explained very matter-of-factly that there had been a rockslide. Daniel didn’t fully believe it until the man handed him his mother’s journal. The dust it carried got everywhere. 

Now, he held Sha’re’s shawl the same way he’d held that journal: carefully, like she might still be upset if it were wrinkled or stained. 

Sam handled it with equal care, placing it on her workbench. Through the window, the moon had just begun its descent.

“When was the last time she wore this?” Sam asked. Her eyes were as red as Daniel’s or Jack’s. None of them felt like sleeping until this was done. 

“Last night,” Daniel said. “It’s one of her favorites.”

“I can see why,” Sam said, running a hand over the embroidered linen. “This should work pretty well then. It won’t give us a location right away, but I should be able to get it to tell you when you’re getting closer to her.”

She weighed out her ingredients precisely. Lodestone, some sort of bone powder, and what looked like marigolds all went into brass bowls, arranged in a triangle on the folded shawl. Then, with chalk, she began drawing her magic circle. 

“Jack, could you grab the quicksilver? It’s next to the cinnabar.”

From behind her, near a tall shelf, Jack obliged. She took out some kind of special pen— she’d explained how it worked, but Daniel never quite understood— and drew a sigil directly on the fabric. 

The air hummed. The fabric itself seemed to turn to water or glass, completely transparent all the way through. Sam poured each of the bowls directly onto— no, into the shawl— then, a deafening crack.

Daniel blinked, and the shawl was once again made of linen. Its red and yellow embroidery looked exactly the same as it once had. 

“Daniel,” Sam gestured for him to come closer. “Pick it up. If I touch it now, it’ll be useless to you.”

He did as he was told. 

The moment his hand touched it, he felt like he’d swallowed a hot coal. There was a burning pull in his chest, as if something were trying to wrench its way out through his back and out the window, westward. 

Then it cooled. The pull stayed there, but it didn’t hurt. Daniel had to think about it to feel it, in fact; it was so faint otherwise he might not have noticed it. 

Jack looked at him, expectantly. “How do you feel?”

Daniel shook his head, as if just waking from a dream. “I— I feel fine. I think I know which way to go.”

Sam smiled. “Good. You’ll feel it more as you get closer to her, as long as nothing happens to that shawl. If it gets torn or taken from you—”

“It won’t.” Daniel said. It was the most certain he’d been of anything all night.

Sam pulled him into her arms. “I hope you find her.”

Part of Daniel began to crack. All the anxiety, all the terror, was finally subsiding. He could feel the tears laying siege to his eyelids. Still, he said nothing. Sam and Jack were good friends of his, but he still had to be a prince. He could cry later. 

“You should get some sleep,” Jack said as Daniel pulled out of the hug. “That war council is going to be…”

“A nightmare,” Daniel said. “I know.” He took a breath. “I hope…”

“She’ll be okay,” Jack said. 

“How did you know what I was going to say?”

Jack almost smiled. “Lucky guess. Let’s… let’s get you to bed.”

He and Daniel both began making their way toward the door, when Sam said:

“Jack? If you have the time—”

“I’ll come back,” Jack assured her. 

Of course. Daniel hated the way their closeness irritated him. When he was younger, he’d thought he was afraid of being forgotten, but it had only worsened as they’d all grown together. Now, with… whatever it was they had between them, it was as bad as it had ever been. He tried not to show it, but… it was difficult. 

“You know what, Jack…” Daniel said. He hated himself for doing this, but he just wanted to be alone. He wanted to be away from Jack, away from Sam— away from Jack and Sam together. “The castle’s secure. I think I can go on my own.”

Jack’s brow furrowed. “Are you sure?”
“Of course,” Daniel lied. The thought of wandering the corridors alone, even with the smallest hint of a chance something might be waiting for him there terrified him. “You set up patrols, didn’t you?” 

Though he clearly didn’t like it, Jack couldn’t gainsay him. Not this time. 

So Daniel began the trek from Sam’s tower to his quarters. 

He must have gotten to sleep somehow, because he did dream. 

He was in some Ancient temple, that much was obvious. But it was full of things no Ancient had ever touched— golden braziers filled with hot coals, banners made of green silk, writing in a language Daniel had only ever seen in the palace of Ra. And there was screaming, so much of it. He tried to listen, to distinguish the voices, but he couldn’t make it out. He’d have to find them.

He broke into a run, trying to find whoever it was that was hurt— then, down a corridor, he saw Sha’re. 

Her hair was wild. Her eyes darted back and forth between him and the space behind him, as if she half-expected someone to appear there and kill them both. And the worst of it— a hundred serpents at her feet, coiling around her ankles.

“Sha’re?” he called. 

“Come no closer!” she said. Her voice shook. “You should not have come. Not now”

“I’m here to help.” Daniel kept moving towards her, more slowly now. If he could just get those snakes off of her, if he could just distract them somehow…

  “You will die, Daniel.” Sha’re’s breathing hitched. “The serpents, they will—”

“It’ll be alright,” he said. “I promise. Just be still.”

He was just within reach of the biggest snake now. All he had to do was move it. 

“Daniel,” Sha’re pleaded. “Stop. They will kill you.”

Nevertheless, he reached out. The snake didn’t resist as he lifted it from her feet. Neither did the others slithering on the ground. A thrill of hope ran through him.

“See? I’m not hurt. It’ll be— gah! ”

Fangs, sharp and dripping venom, sank into his forearm. 

It was like his blood had been set on fire. Sha’re screamed, though he only heard it for a moment. He was engulfed in pain, every muscle in his body trying and failing to flinch away from the source. Every twitch made it worse, and he tried to scream. He couldn’t take in enough air.

He was suffocating. He was burning alive. All he could think was: I’m so, so sorry.

When he woke, he was on the floor. 

The flagstones were cool to the touch. As he pushed himself up, he examined his arm. There was no bite. There had never been one. 

He breathed in, deeply. The shawl was still where he’d left it, draped over a chair and lit only by the faintest hint of blue dawn. His quarters were exactly as he’d left them. He was home. He was safe. 

The stars were still out, he could see that through the window. But it was no use going back to sleep. Not after that. Not with the sun getting ready to rise. Certainly not with this war council ahead of him that he absolutely could not miss. 

So he dressed himself. He’d take a walk, get some air, do the kind of thing the King had been telling him to start doing for years.

A small and spiteful part of him hated that his father might be right. 

He suspected the patrols were just as tired as he was; they couldn’t be counted on to keep an eye out for him. He slid a letter opener into his boot and slipped out the door.

The landscape of Tau’ri was asleep beyond the ramparts. The rocks and pines themselves seemed like they were still dozing, under their eiderdown quilt of fog. In the village below the Keep, a few candles burned— it looked like the baker had already begun his day— but almost every window down the mountain was dark.

It almost brought Daniel some peace. Despite the upheaval in the castle, the rest of the world would go on living. People had chores to do, goats to herd, families to care for. That would remain, no matter what happened up here.

But that wasn’t quite true, was it? If Jack was right, and Sha’re’s abduction was a trap, it wasn’t just meant to get rid of Daniel. It would destabilize the whole region, from the Abydonian dunes to the forest slopes of Tau’ri. Taking two sole heirs to different thrones wouldn’t just cause a crisis of succession— it would sow discord as others tried to fill the void. It would start fights, then skirmishes, then wars. The people below him would carry on as normal only as far as they could. Their chores, their goats, their families, all of it could be gone in an instant.

“And it would be my fault,” he murmured to himself. 

“What would be your fault, Your Highness?”

Daniel jumped. “Teal’c? What– what are you doing up?”

“The patrol group for this area was exhausted. I took over their duties for the moment.” Teal’c’s eyebrow was raised. “Were you unable to sleep?”

“Something like that.” Daniel said. “Bad dreams.”

“What do your dreams entail?”

“I— I think Sha’re was telling me not to come find her. She said I would die.”

“Do you believe you should heed her warning?”

Daniel paused. “ Should , probably. But… I can’t.”

Teal’c nodded. If it weren’t for that small movement, he’d have been as still as stone. “Then you must succeed. Do you believe the war council will agree with you?”

Daniel had almost managed to forget about that. “I hope so. Do you think— do you think I can convince them?”

Teal’c looked Daniel directly in the eyes. “Despite your uncertainty, I have always believed you to be an excellent speaker. If anyone is to make them see reason, it would be you.”

Blinking, Daniel said, “Thank you. I— that means a lot, Teal’c.”

Teal’c nodded in his solemn way. “It is only the truth.”

After a moment, Daniel asked, “You saw what happened to the people Apophis took, didn’t you?”

Teal’c kept his gaze on the horizon. “I saw only his warriors. I do not know for what purpose he intends to use Sha’re.”

Daniel nodded. Hopefully, they wouldn’t have to find out.

The sun began to rise, and the trees looked like signal fires.

Chapter Text

The bed Jack woke in was too soft to be his. As he sat up, his skin brushed against fine wool, and the morning air sent a chill down his arms. The early sunlight illuminated a desk covered in papers and ink, a tapestry map of the stars, and a hundred books lined up like soldiers on parade.

The owner of those books was already awake and dressed, pulling a kettle off the fire.

"Sam?" he said.

She looked back at him and smiled. Her hair seemed to turn white in the light from the window. His head hurt.

"You're awake," she said.

"Begrudgingly," he responded.

She produced two sturdy ceramic mugs from the mantle, then carefully shook some sort of herb into each one before pouring hot water over it.

"This might help. It's just a little yarrow and some rosemary." She passed him one mug, then sat next to him on the bed.

The mug was warm in his hands. "Isn't yarrow poisonous?"

Sam chuckled. "Are you planning on drinking a gallon of it?"

Fair enough. He took a sip of the brew. It was almost peppery, and it felt like someone had added support beams to his bones.

It occurred to him then that he wasn't wearing trousers.

Great work, Jack. Vigilant as always.

Sam had asked to speak with him last night. They both knew that probably meant more than talking— it had for months— but neither of them had ventured into the other's bed. There had been a sort of fence around that in his mind. They'd steal kisses, sure; they'd fool around in an alcove when no one was looking, but Jack had never once considered sleeping with her.

The memory of it came in fits and starts: she had been so gentle. She'd kissed him on the cheek, told him she hoped he'd be careful. He'd been distracted, imagining fifteen ways Daniel might get himself killed between the tower and his own quarters— remembering what he'd said earlier that night. Sam had said he should try to rest, but he was drawn up tight like a bowstring. He'd kissed her, harder than he meant to. She'd kissed him back. The tension had snapped.

"She feels a lot of disturbances where you're concerned."

"Listen, I—"

"We don't have to talk about it," Sam said. "There are…" she took a sip of her tea. "The war council is this morning."

She was right. They had other things to worry about.

"They're not going to want Daniel to go," Jack said.

"It'll take some convincing," Sam agreed. "Even I'm not sure it's a good idea."

"It's not like anyone else can use that talisman, right?" Jack asked. Sam shook her head.

"I did that on purpose. There are ways to make them more versatile, I just—"

"Knew we couldn't stop him from going?" Jack sighed.

"Exactly."

Not that either of them would breathe a word about it. He watched the court wizard drink her tea. She got up to smother the fire, and the mattress kept her shape. Jack dressed himself quickly; the two of them made for the hall.

Neither of them spoke.

There was really nothing to speak about.

Jack could have kissed Master Harriman on the mouth. He was the only one in the Keep who could give half a thought to breakfast after the events of last night, and certainly the only one who could have been persuaded to wake up and make it himself. Even on a good day, it would have been an impressive spread: carafes of wine, salted fish, fresh oatcakes with serviceberry jam, goats' cheese and honeycomb. He nodded in the steward's direction as he took an oatcake— he'd understand Jack's gratitude, even unspoken.

Sam took her seat at the high table, which had been moved slightly backward from the others to accommodate a few more chairs. She was next to Teal'c, whose eyes were as red as Jack had ever seen them. Daniel was already there as well, breaking his own oatcake into smaller and smaller pieces as he sat next to the empty chair meant for the King. Kasuf stood behind his own chair, hands behind his back, plate empty.

Jack suspected he was the only one there who understood what the King of Abydos must be feeling.

There'd been a time when he had a family. After they'd pulled Charlie out of the Kheb delta, though— well, he wouldn't have felt much like taking a seat either. Sara certainly hadn't.

"Sir Jack." A smooth voice came from behind him. Dammit.

He turned to face Maybourne. He looked thoroughly refreshed— eyes bright, shirt clean, new bandages, almost as if nothing had happened last night at all. It took all Jack's strength not to spit in his sorry face for it.

"Maybourne," he said, as coolly as he could manage. "Glad to see you're doing alright."

"As well as can be expected, under the circumstances." Maybourne said. "And yourself?"

Jack didn't get a chance to answer. The King had arrived, looking like he'd gotten about as much sleep as Teal'c or Kasuf.

"Have a seat, folks. We've got work to do." He wasted no time filling a plate before he sat at the end of the table, next to Daniel.

Jack took his place next to Daniel. "You alright?"

Daniel examined the grain of the table. "I will be."

Across from them, Sam tried to put on an encouraging smile. Sir Teal'c simply turned his gaze toward the King, waiting for him to speak. Kasuf finally sat— though he sat on the edge of his chair, like he might need to bolt any moment. Dame Fraiser's shoulders were tense.

Maybourne had found himself a nice seat at the opposite end of the table to the King. Of course. Being the voice of the nobility at these things was never enough for him. He had to put on a show.

At last, Masters Harriman and Siler appeared to Jack's left. They'd both waited until everyone else was seated, though Jack suspected that was more Harriman's idea than Siler's.

"We've got a problem," King George said. "I don't believe I need to go back over it, do I?"

Shaking heads all around.

"Good. I want to hear our options."

Daniel looked ready to jump out of his skin. "I should be the one to find her," he said. "I can be ready to leave in an hour."

The King's jaw set. That was no good. "I understand that you feel responsible, son, but I'm not inclined to let you risk your life again after Abydos."

"He is responsible," Kasuf said. "He became responsible the moment they were married." His voice broke. "He must be the one to bring her back."

The King looked to Dame Fraiser. "Can he handle the journey with his injuries?"

Dame Fraiser took a breath. "Only if everything went perfectly. Strenuous activity of any kind— especially without knowing what he might run into…" she didn't finish her sentence. She didn't need to.

"I know it's a long shot," Sam added, "magic of the body being—"

"Risky?" Jack supplied.

"Risky," Sam agreed. "But I could try speeding up his recovery."

Dame Fraiser shook her head. "That would be fine if he'd hurt his leg, but with the problem so close to his heart, it'd be just as likely to kill him."

Jack had seen Sam try it on a lame horse. Dame Fraiser had leant her some books, and she wanted to give it a shot rather than just put it out of its misery. It had really looked like it was working, too, until the bones began to regrow in the wrong direction.

Since then, Sam had refused to go near the stables.

"Forgive me, Your Majesty," Maybourne cut in, "but I'm shocked the discussion has made it this far. Our guest from Abydos has my deepest sympathies, of course. But sending our crown prince to go and rescue a foreign prince from— what was it you called this Apophis fellow, Sir Teal'c?"

Sir Teal'c raised an eyebrow. "A necromancer."

"Sending our crown prince into a necromancer's territory while he is injured and grieving would be negligent at best."

"What about sending me after my wife?" Daniel snapped.

King George held up a hand, though he did cast Daniel a sympathetic glance.

"What do you propose, Maybourne?"

Maybourne grinned like a coyote in a goat pen. "I suggest we send a detachment. Our best people, perhaps even our brilliant court wizard—" he gestured toward Sam— "assuming the resources are available to do so."

The King looked to Harriman and Siler. "Can we do it?"

Harriman coughed. "Frankly, Your Majesty… if we tried, we'd be facing the question of whether to feed the detachment or the ones who stayed behind in the Keep. Between the Abydos campaign and the wedding…"

"We don't have the men either," Siler said. His tone was as even as ever, probably in an effort to balance Harriman's skittishness. "Not ones we can expect to come back, anyway. Unless the nobles are willing to pitch in."

Maybourne chuckled. "Master Siler seems to misunderstand the situation of the noble houses. We have a few knights, of course, but only enough to guard our own territories. We certainly don't have the funds or the horses to send them so far away."

The thought was burning clean through his brain: "That's a load of bullshit, Your Majesty."

"Sir Jack," the King said warningly. "Unless you have something useful to add—"

"We can't trust him," Jack continued. A small part of him was screaming not to say what he wanted to. He rarely listened to that part. "Don't you all think it's an awful coincidence that a harmless magic disturbance happened right around the same time our people got possessed?"

"That's a serious accusation to make, Jack," said Maybourne.

"But is he right?" Daniel asked, looking the snake dead in the eyes.

Jack's lip curled. "You tell me, you conniving little—"

"That's enough!" the King said. "The fact is, we don't have the resources to mount a rescue. I…" his fist curled. He didn't look at Daniel. "I will not risk the stability of this kingdom if I don't hear a good argument for it."

The table was silent. Daniel looked to Jack, as if hoping he had something in his back pocket. Jack glanced toward Sam, but he only found the same resignation on her face. The fact was, the shawl she'd enchanted could only point the way. It wasn't an army. It certainly wasn't a guarantee.

"I will go and get some air," Kasuf said. His voice shook. He didn't look at Maybourne or the other king as he stood and left the hall.

Daniel said nothing. He simply got up and walked away, leaving the remains of his cold oatcake on the table.

Jack looked at the King. "I—"

The King levelled his gaze at Jack all at once. "Whatever you do, make sure he's safe."

"I will."

He followed Daniel, ready to do just that.

The solar was a quiet place— more suited to a game of chess than games of politics. It was full of cushioned chairs, heavy curtains, and bright mid-morning sunshine. Daniel had kicked Jack's ass at cards here more than a few times, usually shortly before the King or Sir Teal'c explained to him exactly how he'd managed to lose. As far as Jack could tell, though, chess was more his game.

Daniel had thrown open the windows. His shoulders were trembling, though he didn't make a sound.

Running feet echoed behind Jack. Sam was on her way, and Sir Teal'c was following at his usual pace. They looked at him when they reached the doorway. Why do they all think I know what to say? he thought.

Nonetheless, he was the first to open his mouth. "Daniel?"

Daniel jumped. "Sorry. I— come in." He ran his hand down his face. There had been tears, that much was clear. Jack only wondered why it hadn't happened sooner.

"Are you alright?" Sam asked.

Daniel smiled wryly. "Good question."

Sir Teal'c shut the door behind them. Smart move. It'd make it harder for Maybourne to eavesdrop on the way out of the hall.

"I'm sorry," Sam said. "I would have mentioned the talisman, but—"

"It's fine," Daniel said. His tone was soft. "I had a feeling it would go this way. I should have spoken up more."

"Your father's refusal is not your responsibility, Your Highness." Sir Teal'c stepped closer to the prince.

"No. But Sha're is." Daniel's voice cracked.

Jack took a breath.

It was a certainty, what Daniel wanted to do. He had that look that Jack had only seen a few times: the time he'd climbed the roof to get a closer look at the gargoyles, the first time they'd heard Abydos was in trouble, the time he'd asked Sha're to marry him. Every time, someone had tried to caution him. Every time, they'd wasted their breath.

So Jack said a damned foolish thing:

"Then we'd better go and find her."

Chapter Text

Though no one else seemed surprised, Daniel almost didn't believe it. Minutes ago, Jack had argued against him in front of everyone. He'd pointed out exactly why Daniel shouldn't do this. Now, not only was he all for it, but it was his idea.

Jack either didn't register Daniel's confusion, or refused to acknowledge it. Daniel opened his mouth to try and say something— but what would he even say?

"Sir Teal'c," Jack said, "How did you leave Chulak?"

"It was difficult. Apophis had many patrols, by land and sea. If Bra'tac had not assisted me in predicting their movements, I would have been caught."

"What are the odds we can get in contact with Bra'tac?" Jack asked.

Sir Teal'c pondered a moment. "That may be impossible until you reach Chulak itself. But Master Bra'tac is clever. Once you arrive, remain close to the trees and stay far from the village. Look for a shed snakeskin tied to the branch of a tree. He cannot be far behind."

Snakeskin. He remembered the serpents coiled around Sha're's feet. His stomach dropped.

Jack nodded.

"How… how do we get there?" he asked. His head was spinning; his memory was failing him.

"You won't want to take any of the main roads," Sam chimed in. "If anyone saw you…"

"You must follow the River Kheb." Sir Teal'c said.

Jack tensed. Daniel drew in a breath and glanced over at him, but the knight's gaze was fixed straight ahead. Sam moved her hand as if to comfort Jack, but thought better of it.

Jack had searched for his son relentlessly; he and his wife rode for days along the riverbank. Daniel wrote to him during that time, trying to reassure him or ease his grief somehow. When Jack wrote him back, it was only to tell him that he had buried Charlie and would be returning to the Keep— and that his wife would not be coming back with him. When he did return, it was with twice as much gray hair and without his old sense of humor.

Jack hadn't even smiled until they returned from Abydos.

"Is there another way?" Daniel asked. Jack was already risking his neck. He didn't deserve to be waist-deep in his own grief as well.

"None more direct," Sir Teal'c said.

"It'll be fine," Jack said, looking at Daniel directly. "It's not as if we've got a lot of time."

"It's possible that no one will recognize me. I mean, it's not as if there's a family resemblance between me and the roads—"

"We'll take the river," Jack said. "Roads have bandits. We'll be too easy to follow if Maybourne moves against you."

"When are you going to leave?" Sam asked.

For the first time in the whole conversation, Jack looked at Daniel. "Tonight?"

Daniel's mouth went dry, but he nodded. "Tonight."

"Magister Carter and I will distract the court," Sir Teal'c said. "We may be able to prevent them understanding what has transpired until well after you have left the Keep."

"And we can keep an eye on Maybourne once you're gone," Sam added.

There was a cold draft passing through the halls of the Keep. It might have been Daniel's imagination, but it seemed the whole castle was drawing in a breath to brace for what he was about to do.

The kitchens would be his first stop. He'd have to be quick, and have explanations ready. He shuffled through them as if he could predict what would go wrong, and solve it before it had a chance. He slipped down a lonely set of stairs and tried very hard not to sprint down a corridor.

The door was open. He peeked inside— and found himself face to face with Master Harriman.

The older man set down the papers he was rifling through. "Your Highness?"

Daniel fought the immediate urge to slam the door shut and run away. Be smooth.

"Master Harriman. I, um—"

"If you're hungry," Master Harriman said, "the Cook is just in the pantry. I can let her know—"

"No need," Daniel said, too quickly. "I was just…."

The best lies, he'd heard, were the ones closest to the truth.

"I think I was just looking for somewhere to be." It sounded more true than he expected.

Master Harriman nodded. His face was sympathetic.

"I'm sure the Cook won't object."

Daniel weighed his options: he could try and sneak something past the Cook, but he was already floundering. But he didn't want to fail at his one job— if he did, could he make up for it?

He didn't really have a choice.

"I'll leave her be," he said, finally. "Might go see if Dame Fraiser needs a hand."

Master Harriman resumed going through his papers. "I'm sure she does," he said. "Last time I saw her, she was chasing Lord McKay out of the infirmary with a lancet."

Daniel could only imagine. But he had other places to be while he waited for the kitchen to clear, and he could not fail a second time.

The packing didn't take very long. Because they'd have to be quick getting out of the city, Daniel was resolved to carry as little as possible with them: a change of clothes, his journal, a knife just in case— and the shawl.

He ran his hands over the soft fabric. It still smelled like her perfume: roses, sandalwood, myrrh; he could almost imagine she was right next to him, laughing at how silly he was.

He was going over the plan in his mind when a knock at his door made him jump.

Carefully, he stowed the rucksack underneath his bed and picked up a book, as if he'd been caught reading. If it were his father, or if Master Harriman had realized he hadn't gone up to the infirmary…

The one at his door was Kasuf. He was as dignified as ever, but Daniel could see the fatigue on his face. His robes were swallowing him.

"Come in, Good Father."

Daniel hastily gathered up the books, papers and gods-knew-what-else piled in one of his chairs, and gestured for the King of Abydos to sit before he settled onto his own cushion on the floor.

"What is it?"

Kasuf took a breath, as if simply speaking took great effort. "Have you also had dreams of my daughter?"

Daniel blinked. "I have. You've…"

"I have seen her too," Kasuf said. He leaned forward in his chair, his red robes settling around him as if the fabric itself were sighing. "What did she say to you?"

"She…" Daniel swallowed. He knew Jack wouldn't like it, his being honest with Kasuf about this, but he couldn't lie. Not to Sha're's father, not when she was the one in real danger. "She told me not to come any closer. Not to follow her. But I—" the fireplace guttered for a moment, hesitating alongside him— "I have to."

Kasuf reached out and took one of Daniel's hands, clasping it with both of his own like he'd done to Sha're when he blessed their marriage. "She told me the same. There will be danger, Good Son."

Daniel nodded. "I know."

"Be wise. You will not listen to her in this, but if she comes to you again—"

"I will hear her."

Kasuf released Daniel's hand, gazing into the fireplace. "When will you go?"

"Tonight," Daniel said. "After dinner."

"Sir Jack?" Kasuf asked.

"He— he's coming with me."

Kasuf stood, pulling Daniel up gently by the shoulders and into an embrace. "The wind be at your back, Good Son. I will tell no one."

His voice had softened, as if he had been carrying a great weight and finally set it down. They opened the door, exchanged their well-wishes, and Daniel watched the old king make his way down the corridor with a lightness that would have seemed impossible just minutes ago.

There will be danger, Kasuf had said. Of course there would be. But to hear it from someone else made it real in a way Daniel wasn't ready for— and they'd had the same dream.

He knew for a certainty that this wouldn't be like Abydos. He was standing at swordpoint, about to take a step forward.

Not only that, but he was taking Jack with him. If Jack returned without him…

Daniel began to write a letter.

Circling back to the kitchens had been easy enough in the small window before dinner preparations. He had been careful and quiet, but the stolen bundle weighed in his mind. It wouldn't be enough to sustain them the whole time, but he had a few small things they could sell along the way. They wouldn't starve, at least.

Being at dinner now, though, was much harder. Kasuf glanced at him every once in a while, as if trying to reassure him. Maybourne's eyes were narrow.

Daniel mostly picked at his food. Eating was out of the question; his stomach churned like the river's rapids. He didn't want to say anything.

Unfortunately, Maybourne was determined to make conversation.

"Your Highness," Maybourne said, "You're hardly eating."

Daniel set his jaw. "I'm fine."

Maybourne raised an eyebrow. "I understand this is all very stressful, but a prince really ought to keep up his strength."

Daniel imagined what Jack might say: "Careful, Maybourne. If he were stronger, he might finally kick your teeth in."

But he was not Jack. He went back to tearing apart a piece of bread.

Once the food had been cleared away, Daniel caught Teal'c in the corridor. He knew better than to give his letter to Jack; at best, something might happen to it on the road. It could be lost, or fall in the river, or torn. Jack might even figure out why he wrote it, and that could not happen.

"If anything… goes wrong," he said, trying to avoid mentioning his plans directly, "give this to the King."

Thankfully, Teal'c asked no questions. He nodded, and tucked the letter into the folds of his robes.

There was only one thing to do now.

Jack was waiting near the stables, just as they'd agreed. When he saw Daniel, he unrolled a bundle of fabric he was holding. He tossed the cloak over Daniel's shoulders, gently, but quickly. One horse stamped nervously next to him, and Daniel filled the saddlebags with the food he'd "borrowed."

"We need to move quickly," Jack said. "I told the patrols to go and check the east gate, but they'll be back any minute."

"How did you get the horse?" Daniel asked.

"Siler. On paper, she's lame. Had to be shot yesterday."

Daniel blinked. He had no idea what Jack had said to Siler to get him to agree to this; horse theft was a hanging offense, and how would he account for the missing saddle? Granted, if he were counting hanging offenses, everyone involved had committed at least three this afternoon.

Jack took up the horse's bridle. Its hooves behind them were so much louder than Daniel was ready for. He was certain someone would hear. Someone would come to stop them.

It never happened. They cleared the gates. Daniel breathed the scent of moss, dust, and river.

The packed earth of the road through town gave a little under his feet. It had rained a few days ago, and the sun had refused to dry the mud out completely. The mockingbirds and crickets sang their little duet in the trees, and if he listened closely, he could even hear the river from here.

As they passed the alehouse, a goat bleated beside them. Daniel jumped. He almost laughed at it, how much this placid little creature in its pen startled him.

The alehouse itself was bright and warm against the rest of the town. During the day, Jack had told him, people knew it by the lucky river stones on every windowsill. Each one bore a cobweb of white lines; that was where the luck was stored.

Daniel ran his hand over one as they passed. Maybe he could carry some of that luck with them.

They wound their way between houses, down packed-dirt paths, until they stood face-to-face with that river. Jack's river.

It roared near the town, white and furious. Daniel wondered how the fisherfolks' nets managed to hold up under the strain, against the rocks. He looked to Jack, as if to say something, but the look on the knight's face made him think better of it.

Chapter Text

Jack could say this much for Daniel: he was never one to complain. He knew trained knights who would have balked at the kind of push they made that first night; they marched until dawn through brush, along the occasional deer path, with only moonlight and the sound of the river to guide them. They had to be careful. If either of them had tripped, or the horse had taken a step in the wrong direction— Jack didn't want to think about it. Especially with the river so close by. Daniel wouldn't be able to steady himself with his elbow braced.

But they'd made it in one piece. Now, a day or so out from town, they could travel in daylight and Jack could breathe a little easier.

He still watched Daniel carefully, though. His tenacity— or maybe stubbornness— had been a blessing on that first stretch, but it'd be easy for him to push too far through his own fatigue even without the bruised rib from the other day. When he started to fall behind, Jack knew it was time to rest.

Daniel, of course, objected. He started in with the "I'll-be-fines" and a "Really-it-doesn't-hurt-much." Jack just glared at him. That was usually all it took, and today was no different. Jack looped the horse's bridle over a solid tree branch while the prince found somewhere to catch his breath.

When he reached for the waterskin they'd brought, it was empty.

Jack glanced at Daniel, then at the horse, as if looking at either of them would nail them down to their spots until he came back. It wouldn't, but it did make him feel better. Sort of.

Here, without embankments or rapids to choke it, the river seemed almost smooth. Glassy, even. Jack knew better, though. The Kheb had tricked Charlie, but it wouldn't do the same to him. He stood as far from the water as he could without it being out of reach. Before he could think about it, he plunged the waterskin into the shallows, and his knuckles went white around it. His lungs burned, and he realized he was holding his breath.

But it was done. He trudged back up the riverbank and passed Daniel the waterskin and made sure he drank.

"Are you alright?" Daniel asked. He was using that tone, the one he got when he knew something was up but didn't want to seem like he was pressing.

"Fine," Jack lied. It was close enough to being true, he figured. He'd be fine soon, once they got moving and he got out of his head. "You?"

"Trying not to breathe too deeply," Daniel admitted, passing the waterskin back to Jack. "I think I've made it worse."

Jack felt half a smile creep across his face. "You think?"

"That's an awfully patronizing tone, considering you're helping me do it," Daniel chuckled. It was faint, and a little pained, but a little weight left Jack's shoulders to hear it.

"What else was I going to do?" he said.

Daniel coughed. "It seemed… for a minute, at the war council, it seemed like you thought we shouldn't do this at all."

"There wasn't going to be any persuading them otherwise," Jack said. It was true, and he'd known it from the minute the council was called— the set of the King's shoulders, the way Siler and Harriman had been murmuring between themselves before it began. "It would have been a waste of time."

"So you just— this was your first plan?"

Jack took a drink of water. He hadn't liked agreeing with Maybourne in the slightest, but if he was honest, a part of him thought letting Sha're go was... necessary. Not that he'd tell Daniel that.

He said, "Would you be that surprised?"

Daniel sat down on a boulder next to him, satisfied. He still looked Jack in the eye a little longer than was comfortable, but that might not have meant anything. Jack never knew with him.

It was the quiet that got to him.

Even Daniel couldn't fill every hour with conversation. Jack could try and keep himself focused on the environment, but he couldn't stop his mind wandering. Not with the sound of the river lurking at the edge of his hearing.

He and Charlie had been fishing. That was how it started. He didn't have much rank at the time, and that was fine with him— it left time for things like this. And Charlie liked it well enough; he liked throwing back the ones that were too small to eat, watching the ripples behind them as they swam away. Sarah would take some of the bigger ones to the market, and Charlie would help her salt and cure the ones they kept.

He'd only looked away for a moment. It had only been a moment. He'd forgotten to bring a knife out to bleed what they caught. But it was long enough.

Charlie must have seen something in the water. That's what Sarah had said. He'd point out "lucky" river rocks to Jack from time to time, and Jack would go and get them so he could present them to his mother— that must have been it.

The thing about drowning is that you never hear it happening.

By the time Jack returned, Charlie was gone. There was only a pile of nets on the riverbank, lit up gold in the dawn. And every morning out here, the sound of the whippoorwhills had him half-convinced he'd go to the riverbank and see that again.

He knew better. He tried to know better. He didn't need anyone realizing he was still like that, least of all Daniel. So he didn't say a word when they broke camp in the mornings.

Daniel wasn't fooled, though. He was too smart for that. Every morning as Jack covered the remains of their fires with dust, Daniel looked at him like he might try to say something or ask questions. Jack tried to look as gruff and non-conversational as he could.

That worked— until the rain came.

It was their fifth morning on the road. They hadn't made it two miles from their campsite when the horse got fidgety. She took hills and turns far too quickly, and whinnied as if she were trying to warn them of something. When they neared a cliff, where there were fewer trees, Jack saw why: a mass of clouds, charcoal gray, charged toward them like an army. Lightning already flashed between them, and the already-damp wind picked up its pace.

"We need to find shelter," he told Daniel. "a cave, an overhang— something. Keep an eye out."

Daniel glanced around. He'd been quiet all morning; the march had taken a lot of his usual nervous energy out of him. Now, though…

"You know a place," Jack said, in the most intimidating tone he could muster. "Where?"

Daniel looked away. "There's an Ancient ruin nearby. But it's unstable. We shouldn't—"

"It'll be safer than here." Jack clicked his tongue, and he and the horse started ahead of Daniel.

"Jack—" Daniel called.

"Tell me when we're there," Jack said. Whatever Daniel had to say could wait.

The river below started to swell against the cliff face below. Jack's throat went tight, but he kept moving. Daniel would either lead the way, or Jack would find something else. Or that was the hope.

Sure enough, Daniel ran to catch him. He took the lead, coughing hard, and Jack felt a twinge of guilt. But the sky was darkening, and he already felt raindrops. He'd rather Daniel be coughing than struck by lightning, and the thunder would spook the horse if they didn't get her tied up in time.

The ruins Daniel was talking about were tucked into the mountain, far enough from the cliff's edge that they couldn't see the river anymore. Jack understood why he was worried: the building, or what was left of it, was thoroughly weathered. The remains of a rockslide had even taken out the back half of it completely— it was hard to distinguish the ruin's debris from mountain stone. But it was better than nothing, and more than large enough to cover them both and the horse as long as the storm continued.

But when Daniel reached what looked like the door, he stopped.

"What's the problem?" Jack asked.

"It won't open without a watchword." There was an edge of panic to Daniel's voice.

"So say the watchword," Jack said.

"It's not that simple," Daniel said. "If I get it wrong—"

Thunder rolled over the cliffside. The horse strained against her bridle, but Jack held it firm.

"Easy," he murmured to the horse. She calmed down, but only a little. Then, he called, "We're out of time, Daniel!"

"I know!" Daniel fired back. He took a breath, running his fingers over the carvings in the door as Jack came closer with the horse. "Quid est sonus— I think I have it!"

"Then say it!" Jack nearly shouted.

"Si— Taciturnitas!"

Jack would wonder for years whether the door had actually glowed, or if lightning had just struck nearby. Either way, where there had been a door, there was now an empty threshold, and he wasted no time pulling the horse through it.

As if on cue, the sky broke open above them.

Chapter Text

The ruin was an observatory, probably— long ago. In its day, the crumbling buttresses would have soared above the trees into a ceiling made of glass. The back end, buried under tons of boulders, might have housed who-knew-how-many Ancient astronomers and scholars, or maybe some kind of wizard. The roof was intact, but only just; falling branches had smashed holes in the glass, making small waterfalls throughout the room.

For a second, Daniel thought he might see his parents' bodies, broken and decaying in the rubble. He knew better. They died miles away, crushed under so much granite that their coffins held only river stones.

The stone floor here had grown mossy in the shade and damp, under the remaining bits of roof. While the exposed carvings had weathered to illegibility, the ones on the walls near him were more defined. They might have been a star map; the crisp lines were broken in places by deep indents. He could confirm it, if Sam were here.

He'd take a charcoal rubbing, once they got a fire started. If he closed his eyes, he could hear his father explaining how those worked. Daniel's hands were small then, and his mother had helped him lay the parchment over the stone.

He felt a hand on his shoulder— Jack.

"Let's get set up," Jack said. His voice was softer than it had been outside. "You think you can find some kindling?"

Daniel nodded. Most of the detritus that had fallen through the roof would be wet, but drier than anything they'd find outside.

As he gathered up the few dry bits of timber, he could almost make out the design of the tiles. They spiralled out from the center of the room, following each other like fish. He brushed away the moss to look at them better.

His father had shown him tiles like this. The ones he was looking at were carved with clouds, but the ones back then had been more geometric— interlocking triangles that had made him dizzy to look at them.

These were making him dizzy now.

Daniel piled up the wood he'd gathered. It took Jack a few tries to get the fire going, and even then, it guttered and struggled in the wind like a torn banner.

Jack said something, but Daniel didn't hear it. The wind in the pines was so loud above them. The fire was just bright enough to make the rest of the ruin seem pitch dark. If he closed his eyes, he could almost believe he was part of the place— the rain pouring over and through him, the night broken by a pathetic little fire that would go out sooner or later, no matter who tended it. How long would he have before the lichen broke him down completely? Fifty years? A hundred?

Then, there was something in his hand. It was cold, rough. Bread. Jack had moved to crouch at Daniel's side, and he was pressing it into his palm.

"You've got to eat," he said.

Daniel didn't have the wherewithal to protest. The bread was so stale it made his jaw pop to bite into it, but it brought him back to himself.

Jack settled into a sitting position.

"You alright?" he asked. He was looking at the fire, rather than at Daniel.

Daniel took a breath. "I don't know. I guess— I'm out of it."

"You're probably tired," Jack said. "Cold. Here."

And then Jack's cloak was over both their shoulders. Jack still wasn't looking at him, and it would have been strange if Daniel could form more than half a thought. As it was, he did feel better. For once, he wasn't going to question that. He'd have time for that on the road.

Dreams came out of the between-ness. He still heard the wind howling and the water rushing, and he still felt the warmth of Jack's cloak and the remains of the dying fire, but his eyes and ears were in another place.

Sha're was calling out to him through empty halls. Anything he focused on— stones, torches, carvings— bled and ran like too much ink, but he heard her. Where was she? He ran to look for her, but he only moved the wrong direction. Something pushed, or maybe pulled, and stopped his boots from gaining any traction.

Then the floor was gone.

So was Sha're's voice.

His knuckles were white around Jack's cloak. His breathing was too fast, and the pressing ache in his rib was growing. The air was sharp and cold in his lungs.

Jack, on the other hand, breathed deeply. Daniel stood slowly, trying not to disturb him. He needed to move around a little. That was all. Being in this ruin was getting to him; if he could just go outside for a moment, he could come back to himself.

The "door" to the ruin had closed behind them— rather, the stones in the wall had reappeared, but they went away again as Daniel stepped up to the threshold to let him through.

The rain was now more of a mist, coating Daniel's clothes rather than soaking them through. The crisp smell of damp earth and pine needles seemed to chase away the pain, and his heartbeat steadied. If he didn't look at it, the ruin may as well have never been there at all. If he focused on the velvet breeze, he almost forgot the sound of Sha're's terror. Sure, the shadows were eerie, and he felt Jack's absence at his side just as potently as he'd felt his presence, but he had room to breathe. It was a start.

Sha're had warned him already. If this next dream was an attempt to get him to turn back, well— it was too late. He'd defied a direct order and Jack had helped him, and if they came back to the Keep without Sha're, it would all be for nothing. There wasn't any room for second-guessing, for anyone's sake.

Then something sharp dug into his back. He turned to look— a mistake, if he'd ever made one.

Sir Charles Kawalsky had him at swordpoint. Or, the thing that had once been Sir Charles. Whatever he was now— whatever it was— its eyes glowed like hot iron. It had lost most of its armor at some point, and what remained hung off its body like chipping paint. Its cheekbones were hollow, and though it looked ready to strike, its arms trembled.

It was hesitating.

Daniel felt his legs move before he told them to. He broke left for the ruin, but the thing that was not Sir Charles moved faster. It drove a fist hard into his ribs, right where the ache sat.

Something cracked.

"JACK!" The knight's name tore out of his throat like glass as Daniel staggered back. He hadn't thought to bring a weapon out here— why hadn't he thought to bring a weapon?

The thing caught him by the throat. It was grinning. For a moment, Daniel was back in Abydos; this was just another one of Sir Charles's jokes. He'd let go in a second, and Jack would smack him upside the head, and they'd laugh about it later. He wanted to let himself believe it.

But the sparks floating in his vision told him the truth: only one of them was going to make it out of this. He lifted his leg and kicked the thing in the stomach, trying to ignore how human it sounded as it grunted from the blow.

Still, it didn't let go.

Daniel's vision was starting to cloud. He tried to scream again, but he couldn't get enough air. He felt the blood coursing through his limbs like needles. His limbs weren't listening to him anymore.

Jack. Please.

And then he was free. The thing that was not Sir Charles wheeled around and swung its sword at something.

Jack's sword met it.

Daniel's head swam as the humid air rushed in, just short of filling his lungs. It hurt to breathe even more now, as if the thing that was not Sir Charles had actually run him through— but there was no wound.

The rib was broken. That was certain now.

Jack was doing his best, but the thing didn't seem to care when he landed a blow. When Jack grazed its arm, it bled, but it didn't seem to notice any pain. It charged recklessly, even as it seemed to strain against itself. When Jack wrenched its blade from its hand, it went for his throat. Jack swung wildly, desperately, to no effect.

But the thing that was not Sir Charles was ignoring Daniel.

All at once, he took the thing's sword up and drove it through its back. His jaw clenched as the bone and muscle gave way with an awful tearing sound. Jack took the opening to shove the thing away from him.

It fell, and its eyes went dark— but not entirely.

Daniel could swear he saw Sir Charles looking at him, but only for a second. Whatever had been using his body had abandoned him to the consequences.

"Charles?" Jack crouched over him, not entirely without caution.

"Jack." Sir Charles choked. "I— what happened?"

Daniel's stomach turned. He started toward Sir Charles but— he couldn't. The sword was still in his hand.

Jack cradled Sir Charles's head in his hand, as if he were a child with a fever.

"You got lost. Some people got hurt. That's all. It's—" Jack's voice broke. "It's going to be alright."

Sir Charles looked to Daniel. There was no blame on his face; there was only confusion, and that made it so much worse.

"I'm sorry," Daniel tried to say. Whether he was speaking to Jack or Sir Charles, it didn't matter. The sound barely made it out of his throat. Neither of the knights heard it.

The body that had once held Sir Charles— and something that was not Sir Charles— went slack.

Jack said nothing. He just closed Sir Charles's eyes and sat there for a moment, down in the mud. When Daniel dropped the sword, he half-expected Jack to realize what had happened and lunge at him.

He didn't.

Jack let Daniel wrap his arms around him, help him stand, but he never took his eyes off the body.

"Jack, I—"

"It's alright, Daniel." Jack's voice was hoarse, and it occurred to Daniel that he'd never seen the man cry before now. "Are you hurt?"

"He— he broke my rib," Daniel admitted. It was almost funny, the way the pain hadn't quite caught up with him. Like it was waiting for everything to be over.

"You should go back inside. I'll bury him before… before something else finds him."

Daniel shook his head. "There's nothing to bury him with. We don't have anything to dig with."

"So what do we do?" Jack asked. "It's your call."

When someone died in the King's service, the King was responsible for making sure they got a good burial. But the King wasn't here, so Jack was right. It was Daniel's job.

"The ruin," Daniel said. "It's closed, so—"

"So the animals won't get to him," Jack said.

Daniel tried to help Jack carry the body inside, but Jack wouldn't let him. It was probably wise, but the fact that Daniel couldn't help after what he did still weighed on him. He should be the one to carry Sir Charles, to make up for it somehow, broken rib be damned.

What he could do— what he did— was lay his own cloak over the body, once they laid it in the center of the ruin. It wasn't a shroud, but it was all he had. All that was left was to say the words.

"Sir Charles did not end his life in idleness," Daniel said. His eyes stung with tears, but he blinked them back. "He died with valor, in service to his King. Let his name be spoken as far as the river flows. Let his rest be without burden."

He felt Jack's hand on his shoulder. Normally, they'd send him off with grave goods, things he'd want to keep in the next world. As it was, they only had his sword. Daniel felt sick to touch it, but he laid it on top of the shroud. A soft blue light came over the body, and Daniel supposed the sun must be rising. He didn't think it had been so long since they arrived.

A glance up through the ceiling told him he was right. The sky was dark.

The ruin wasn't.

Each carving glowed gently, like a candle had been lit behind the walls and the light just barely made it through. Daniel looked to Jack, to make sure he wasn't seeing things, and Jack looked just as confused as he was.

"What the hell?" Jack murmured.

Daniel was about to say he didn't know. But he had a feeling— one he couldn't explain or even articulate, really— like the ruin knew what was going on. Like something in its purpose had changed, and it was… acknowledging that.

He hadn't done right by Sir Charles. But he had tried. Could that ever be enough?

Chapter Text

The jay was the thing that woke Jack. At some point in the night, it had taken up an obnoxious kind of whistle that Jack had never heard in any other bird. It made his head hurt. Worse still, the rain had brought with it a cold draft that soaked into his skin with the dew, and he shivered even in his bedroll. His toes were numb in his boots.

He wished he could focus on those small annoyances.

He couldn't.

Sir Charles's body was less than a yard away from him. If he reached his arm out from where he'd slept, he could have touched his friend's shoulder— which he was sure would be hard by now, and cold as any stone in this ruin. Maybe that would prove to him that what happened hadn't been a nightmare.

It had been real.

But he couldn't afford to grieve right now. Not this close to Orlin's Cay— they couldn't be more than a days' ride out— and not after all that commotion. He stretched his arms out in front of him, rolling his wrists until they cracked, and got to his feet. His back ached, and he cracked that too.

He found Daniel awake, lying on his bedroll and staring at the ceiling. His throat was ringed with nasty reddish-purple bruises, and his breathing was short and shallow. Looking at him twisted something in Jack's chest.

If Daniel noticed him, he made no indication of it. His eyes were red, tired. He couldn't have slept very well.

Of course he hadn't. He'd killed one person before last night. That was if Ra could still be counted as a person, and he hadn't known Ra like he'd known Sir Charles; all that was to say nothing of the fact that his rib probably hurt like hell.

Jack busied himself with saddling the horse.

The first time he'd killed someone, he hadn't slept either. Among knights, it was expected— of course, you wouldn't find much comfort, but everyone understood that you'd be out of it for a day or so after whatever battle or duel you'd fought. They'd share a drink with you, remind you it would be alright, that you'd done your job and there was no man or god who could rightly judge you. It was the kind of thing they all told their squires about, prepared for as best they could.

But Daniel didn't have that. Kings and princes weren't supposed to be doing the killing. That was why they had knights in the first place. Daniel had already done more than his share, and Jack suspected it was only going to get worse from here.

He tried not to look at the body, but his gaze kept floating that way like a compass needle pointing north. With the face covered by Daniel's cloak, he could almost imagine it was someone else, for all the good that did.

If they made it back— when they made it back— Daniel would not be the same. He couldn't be.

Jack couldn't imagine him being jaded or cruel. Then again, he never imagined he'd watch Sir Charles die.

"How's the rib?" He asked Daniel finally.

Daniel blinked. Jack almost regretted pulling him into reality.

"I'm alright," Daniel said. When he tried to sit up, though, he didn't make it far before a groan of pain escaped him. Jack ran to help him, barely catching him before he faltered and landed on his back.

"Careful," Jack said.

Daniel nodded, his teeth gritted. He hadn't landed on the ground, but Jack had caught him so abruptly that it couldn't have felt good.

"I'm going to stand up," Daniel said.

Jack nodded. "I've got you."

He placed one hand on the small of Daniel's back and the other on his shoulder, trying to keep the pressure away from the broken rib. Daniel pushed himself up, the muscles in his jaw twitching, until he'd sat up. He tried to stand normally then, twisting a little to one side— and nearly fell into Jack.

"Sorry," he breathed.

Jack shook his head. "It's alright. You're almost there." He'd seen worse patients— been one of them, even. And if this was what it took for Daniel to accept his help, well, he was alright with that.

This time, Daniel was careful not to twist at all as he made it upright. Still, Jack didn't want to let go of him. The mud outside was going to be slippery and uneven. Another fall might puncture one of his lungs, and the thought of that happening...

"Hang onto my arm," Jack said. "We'll get you outside so you can brace on the wall. I'll get the horse."

Daniel, for once, did exactly as Jack asked. Jack tried not to think about how pale he was, or how the bruises around his neck made it look like someone had failed to hang him. He kicked away the remains of their fire, made sure there was no trace they'd been here— just in case.

Getting Daniel up onto the horse was a more difficult matter. Jack wasn't totally sure how they even managed it, and he hoped they hadn't caused any more damage in the process. Jack had to brace Daniel's torso in the narrow space between his ribcage and his hips, and he nearly slipped a few times— but at last, they did it.

Daniel didn't talk much. But every once in a while, when he thought Jack wasn't looking, his hand would go up to his neck, or to the shawl sticking out of his pocket. That shawl wouldn't be much use until they made it to Chulak— not that it mattered. Daniel cared less about the spell on it than he cared about who it came from.

There was a jay in their path. It sat on top of an abandoned pauldron, which had fallen in a patch of fireweed and rusted in the rain. The blue of the bird against the rust and the flowers almost hurt his eyes to look at— a color that didn't belong with its surroundings.

And that whistle.

It was the same one from this morning. Jays could do that, couldn't they, pass songs and mimicry to each other? That's what this was. It wouldn't be the same bird. Couldn't be.

But it waited just a moment too long to fly away.

Jack kept hearing that damned bird for hours after that. Just when he thought they'd lost it, that whistle would pierce the air again. If he didn't know better, Jack might have started to think it was a person for how clear it was. He quit trying to tell himself it was a different jay.

Daniel didn't seem to notice. If he did, he didn't say anything, which didn't surprise Jack all that much.

And pieces of armor, the ones Sir Charles had been missing, littered the ground in places. Had he taken them off on purpose? Tried to make himself easier to take down? Jack tried to imagine it: every muscle in his body telling him to keep moving, find his way to somewhere he'd never been, while his mind screamed and strained against it.

It was easier than he cared to admit.

They passed the rest of the day in a kind of wary silence. It was one Jack found comfortable, but he knew it had to be driving Daniel insane. He wished he could help— almost tried making conversation once or twice. But he knew he couldn't. No amount of talking was going to help either of them now.

By the time Orlin's Cay appeared in the hills below them, the sun was setting. Besides the jay, the mourning doves and owls had begun calling the moon to attention. It'd be high in the sky before long.

Jack scanned for a place to make camp, when two figures came around a bend in the road. His hand went to his sword on instinct before Daniel said the first real words that had passed between them all day:

"Jack, I think one of them is wounded."

As they got closer, Jack realized he was right. One person was supporting the other, and it looked like some half-finished batch of wine had been spilled down the front of their robes. They both looked tired, but one of them was downright pallid. "Wounded" might not begin to cover it.

He heard Daniel start to dismount behind him and cursed.

"Stay up there," he said. "We don't know these people."

It was an understatement. Jack hadn't seen anyone in Tau'ri dress like that. If these people were from Abydos, or maybe even Chulak, they probably weren't a threat— but only probably. If Apophis could use Sir Charles—

"Help me get down," Daniel said, with an edge of urgency. "They need help. Draw your sword if you have to, just let me see if they're alright." His expression was clear and familiar: if Jack didn't help him, Daniel would die trying to do it on his own.

"Fine," Jack said. "Just— be careful. Stay behind me until they get close." If they had weapons, he wanted to know about it before he let Daniel near them.

The moment Daniel's feet touched the ground, Jack's hand was on his sword. Whoever-they-were had spotted them, and were gaining ground— they couldn't be more than ten yards away.

One of them shouted something. Jack didn't know what it was, but Daniel must have, because he was already nearly running ahead with a roll of bandages from the saddlebag.

Daniel shouted back in the same language. Was it Abydonian? It sounded close.

Then, one of them said: "Akhi en Bra'tac!"

Jack paused.

These were Bra'tac's scouts. At least, they were claiming to be, and Jack wouldn't be able to get a read either way unless they got help.

He caught up to Daniel as quickly as he could. He was talking quickly, trying to help support the bleeding scout, but his strength was flagging.

"Let go," Jack said. "We can put him in front of you on the horse."

As Daniel repeated what he said, Jack surveyed the damage. The scout's stomach had been slashed badly, down to pulsing muscle, and recently. They were on the edge of consciousness, mumbling something Jack didn't understand. It was bad.

"How did this happen?" Jack asked, scanning the horizon. There was no one else on the road. They weren't being chased.

Daniel repeated his question to the other scout, who answered it quickly.

"They were attacked on their way out of Orlin's Cay," Daniel said. "By— by knights. They came to— what was that?"

The scout repeated what they'd said. Daniel paled.

"They came to bring a warning."