Whore of Hadante
Description, Rating, & Disclaimers
TITLE: Whore of Hadante
AUTHOR: Elysium
SPOILERS: Prisoners
SEQUEL/SEASON INFO: Season 2
RATING: R
SUMMARY: A prisoner in Hadante contemplates potential new 'friends'.
CATEGORY: Angst. Sort of.
AUTHORS NOTES: Story was first posted to the Stargate SG-1 Hurt/Comfort list, at Onelist.com. It is rated R for its mild slash content. It will only make sense if you have seen the episode and remember 'the freakish little fellow who asked Teal'c to be his friend', as Seanchaidh put it.
DISCLAIMER:
All Stargate SG-1 characters are the property of Stargate SG-1 Productions (II) Inc., MGM Worldwide Television Productions Inc., Double Secret Productions, Gekko Film Corp and Showtime Networks Inc. No infringement of those rights is intended. This story is for entertainment purposes only and no money exchanged hands. No copyright infringement is intended. The original characters, situations, and story are the property of the author. This story may not be posted elsewhere without the consent of the author. This disclaimer was shamelessly copied from the 'Heliopolis' site.
Look at these, look at these! Ah, there is a girl with them, she will not last, unless...Linea! Always she interferes! But if men may not touch her--it is of no matter, then. They all are still mine.
How comely, this one, how frail, blue eyes wide like a girl, his skin thin and fair. He will be a girl, here. He will be my competition, if the woman is not. He walks like a man, but who could feel protected in those arms? His face is too sweet, too weak; I do not like him.
These two! Such a pair! My heart races just to see them! But perhaps they are together? Oh, lords and ladies, let them not be together! Let them each be in pursuit of me, here, after the hours stretch into days, after the days stretch into years. For there is no escape from Hadante, and time is long, lonely time longer still, empty ever-night. Maybe we three together will fill our emptiness in the times ahead? That is too much to ask.
This one, hair of silver and amber, a crease of thought between his furry brows, slight frame but muscled, strong-willed--so strong he is unafraid here, like he knows this place already. Is the hair of your chest silver, or gold? Let me rest my head on it! His face is not one to fear, but one to adore; already he has such power over me. He will have that power over others here, soon. Who should he fear, with this other beside him? Who should he fear, walking alone? Those few who will challenge him may regret being fools, if they live.
And this last--miracle of fates which brought him here--arms as thick as my leg, back wide as a door, and tall, his skin a rare darkness of rich red-brown, touched by a shimmer of gold; in his arms who could not feel secure? Who could not wish to feel that smooth brown silk under his hand, or that strength overpowering his body? He could rule here, and I could be his consort. I would like that.
They will reject me now, I know. But time here is long...and maybe I will be their ‘friend’...
3/02/00
