Every field was burning. The family that owned the plantation had barricaded themselves in their house at the first signs of an uprising, and now lay in pools of their own blood as slaves looted and sheltered under their roof, raiding their food stores. The momentum was unstoppable and spread to the neighboring plantations as a ripple causes waves on the shore of a lake. Teyla clung to the chimney of the plantation house, squinting to see past the smoke.

The surviving drivers had fled for reinforcements and she thought she could see small explosions in the distance. Binti looked up at her from the ground. “What do you see?”

“I cannot be certain...” Another small fire cloud burst into existence where the barracks were. “They appear to be retaliating with explosives of some kind.”

Binti swallowed hard and Teyla glanced around at the property surrounding the house, disheartened by how destroyed it was. “...They will burn the house. We must take what we can and hide it. Bury the food.”

Binti nodded and began to relay her orders to the surrounding uprisers. Teyla studied the outline of a wagon in the distance, narrowing her eyes against the stinging smoke that was whipped about by the wind. Through the shimmering heat and soot in the air she could make out that the wagon was being pulled by men, and that drivers were inside, pumping some sort of hose... pumping fire.

She stiffened, apprehension curdling her stomach. For a moment she wanted to bellow a warning, to issue a full retreat, to run... but the rest of the world was on fire anyway. Soon there would be nothing left to burn. What did she really have to fear? She exhaled so lowly that it was almost a growl. Showmanship. They intended to frighten them into submission. Teyla slid down the roof then leapt onto the ground, pain shooting up her shins as she landed.

“They have liquid fire!” she shouted and Binti and the others turned to her. “Is that the best they can do?”

Several nervously chuckled while others looked wary.

“They know this is our stronghold. They expect us to defend it. Take what you can rescue then find safe ground. I will need help – any without children, please, we must act quickly!”

Binti cast her a worried look, both covered in soot, then stepped forward to help, along with several others. Teyla nodded in appreciation.

Ronon sighed and winced as his hair was yanked, sending a small shooting pain into his scalp.

Bo furrowed her brow at him as she braided. “You keep doing that.”

“...What?”

“Going...” and she imitated one of his sighs.

He smirked.

“That’s because he’s impatient,” Liliana said as she stepped past the two in the living room, shooing Sanura away from the fireplace.

“The sooner you go to sleep, the sooner you’ll wake up and it’ll be tomorrow,” Bo advised.

“I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep, Butterfly.”

“You’re too excited, just like it’s Beva Eve.”

“Beva Eve?”

“Mm hmm,” she replied, starting another little braid. “When everyone gives someone else a present and we eat cookies and climb up on this one mountain at night to watch the stars.”

“It’s our winter solstice,” Liliana clarified, sitting down with Sanura to read the toddler a book.

Ronon nodded his understanding then was scolded for moving his head. “Almost done...” After a few more painful yanks, Bo dashed off. Ronon watched her open the door to her and Bri’s room, feeling a ping of guilt. Brianna hadn’t come out all evening and Liliana had warned him of the cause ahead of time. A few moments later, Bo dashed back out with a mirror then guided Ronon to the bathroom so that he could inspect his new hairstyle.

He blinked.

Bo grinned at him, stepping on the toilet to climb onto the counter. “You like it? It looks like you have horns.”

Ronon smirked at the two braids stemming from each temple and the messy, bow covered ponytail in the back. “I think I’m a monster now.”

She immediately recognized the invitation to play and screamed, sliding off the counter and running out of the bathroom. Curtis walked into the house to find Ronon chasing his daughter, looking like a deranged jester. “I told you, Bo, no bringing home creatures from the swamp!”

“Help me, Papa!” Bo leapt at him as he took off his coat, trying to scramble up as Ronon charged at her on all fours, snorting like a pig. He looked so frightening that Bo actually screamed in fear and scrambled more fiercely. At the same moment that Curtis hoisted her up Liliana admonished her and Ronon and warned them to calm down before bedtime. Curtis was laughing and playfully kicked at Ronon as he climbed to his feet. “If she has nightmares I’m blaming you.”

Ronon made a face at Bo and she stuck her tongue out at him before Curtis set her down again.

“Ronon, you have too many curls. Your hair will knot if you sleep with it like that. Have Isabeau take it out.”

“Okay, mommy,” he said as he sat back down, laughing quietly with Bo at the joke that apparently Liliana didn’t hear, for she continued reading to Sanura. He winced as Bo yanked and pulled to get his hair loose again. He squeezed his eyes shut as she yanked particularly hard.

“Bo, you’re torturing him.”

He opened his eyes and was surprised to see Brianna sipping a glass of milk.

“I am not. He likes it.” She patted Ronon’s head as if he were Sniffer.

Ronon figured that he better seize his opportunity to have a chat with Brianna now, knowing that he’d be distracted once Teyla came. “Hey, can I talk to you a little, Bri?”

Brianna stiffened a little. “...Sure.”

Bo didn’t let him go until she’d brushed out his hair then he rose and stepped with Brianna into the kitchen where they had a bit more privacy. He sat down in one of the chairs and she silently followed suit, setting down her glass of milk, looking nervous yet expectant as she looked to him. He could tell that she’d been crying earlier and that made him forget all of the advice Liliana had given him and he mildly panicked. “Um... your mom told me why you missed dinner.”

Brianna looked so horrified that he wished he could take back what he’d said. “She did?”

“Yeah, well, she said you were mad at me,” he tried to backpedal.

Brianna looked a little relieved. “Oh.”

He decided that playing dumb was his best bet. “I mean... I don’t remember having an argument or anything unless when we did you hit me on the head and I forgot about it.” He smirked and she shyly returned the smile, looking back to her milk. “I just wanted to say... If I did or said anything that hurt your feelings, I’m really sorry.”

She looked back at him and met his green gaze with her blue eyes, reddened a little from crying. “...It’s okay...”

He smiled a little and waited to see if she wanted to elaborate further, but when she only took a sip of milk, he knew he’d have to prod her a little more without revealing that Liliana had told him everything. “So just for future reference... what exactly was it that I did?”

She set her glass back down and reached for a napkin, wiping off her lips. “...You didn’t do anything. I was mad at Teyla.”

He furrowed his brow. “But you haven’t even met her yet.”

“I know... but once she comes you’ll be with her all the time instead of me.” She met his gaze, her eyes pleading with him to understand.

He shook his head a little. “Of course I’ll want to spend time with her, but you guys are all like family to me now. I’ll always want to spend time with you, Bri.”

She sighed. “It still won’t be the same...” She looked away and he was quiet, giving her space. “I mean... I thought that if you never found her again... maybe we could be together instead.” She shyly met his gaze.

He smiled a little and the warmth of it reached his eyes. After a moment he took her hand in his and squeezed it. He could tell her that she was so very young, that he only could see her as a lovely little girl, a sister or cousin; he could tell her that he wasn’t worth the effort and that she’d dislike him in time... but instead he told her what he thought she would understand – what he thought would hurt her the least. “Brianna... I know everyone tells stories about two people finding their perfect other half, falling in love and living happily ever after... but the truth is... it doesn’t usually happen that way. We can love a lot of people in our lives, and that’s a good thing. We’re lucky to get to feel that way more than once...” he trailed off, his heart suddenly hammering with the memory of Melena... memories that felt as if they belonged to another man in another life. He refocused his attention on Brianna, who was listening raptly. “But sometimes we meet the right person at the wrong time... or rather, one of the right people at the wrong time.”

Brianna studied him for a moment, letting his words trickle in before nodding minutely.

“And, you know,” he continued, clearing his throat a little. “Time changes a lot of things. When you get a little older you might not feel the same way as you do right now. I mean... I’ve changed a lot. I never thought I could actually be with Teyla but... time and circumstances... they change people...” He sighed, realizing he was speaking more to himself than to her and gave her an apologetic smile. “You’re beautiful and you’re young and you’re only just learning about these things. Someday you’re gonna meet another guy who you just might like. Give him a chance. It won’t be the same, but you never know. You might fall in love and think, ‘Who was Ronon, again?’”

Brianna bit her lip and lunged forward to clomp onto his middle. Ronon hugged her back, resting a hand on the back of her head. “...I’ll never forget you, Ronon,” she murmured into his shirt.

His throat was tightening unexpectedly fast and he looked down, resting his cheek on top of her head. “I’ll never forget you, either, Pretty Lady. Not for one second, okay?”

She nodded and wiped at a tear on her cheek.

“You’re a very special young woman. You and your sisters are the finest I’ve ever met. Don’t let anyone ever tell you different, okay?”

Brianna nodded and her voice was hoarse with tears. “Okay.”

She pulled away and Ronon smiled at her again as he reached out to wipe away one of her tears. She laughed self-consciously. “What the heck was Bo doing to your hair, anyhow?”

Ronon chuckled. “She was trying out a new hairstyle on me.”

“What was it? Tangles?”

“...It was by the end...”

She sniffled as she laughed again, her tears drying. Ronon couldn’t stand how vulnerable she looked and hugged her again, squeezing her as tight as he dared as he lifted her off her feet before setting her back down with a smooch to her cheek. She tucked her chin to her neck as his lips pressed against her skin, her heart fluttering about in circles but relieved to not feel a blush heating her skin.

“Sweet dreams, Pretty Lady.”

She smiled and hugged him briefly again. “Sweet dreams, Freckle Face.”

Ronon blinked in confusion. Brianna snickered and scurried out of the kitchen.

Later that evening, bored and anxious for time to pass more quickly, Ronon examined his face in the mirror, wondering how different he’d look to Teyla. He furrowed his brow and leaned in close when he saw something splotchy on his nose and under his eyes. Brianna was right. After all his time in the sun both on the plantation and helping the family, he had freckles. He started to smirk, both at Brianna’s cheekiness and at the thought that he hoped Teyla liked freckles, but the realization that he didn’t know if she liked freckles or not brought to the surface the many other things that he didn’t know about her.

He glanced at his reflection once more before stepping away, his stomach churning anxiously as he tried to wrap his mind around how very much of her there was to know, suddenly afraid that what he did know wasn’t enough, that she may have changed, as he’d waned Brianna that people sometimes do, and wouldn’t love him anymore. He knew he was disfigured by his scars – he couldn’t hide them forever...

He stepped into the empty living room and sat down by the embers of the fire. The house was asleep. Only he had chosen to stay up until the wee hours of the morning, at which point he would wake Curtis. He glanced to the clock. It was still hours yet. He closed his eyes, his anxiety feeding off of his insecurities, growing and taking the shape of a coiled snake until he opened his eyes and let out a shaky breath, remembering the feel of Teyla’s calloused fingers against his cheek and the smoothness of her voice. Of course she would still be Teyla, changed, like he was, but still Teyla. And Teyla had one of the most open hearts of anyone he’d ever known. She’d accept the changes in him, as he would her. There would be awkward moments, he knew, especially if she had believed him dead all this time. An adjustment period. But they would be okay.

He let out another shaky breath. They would be okay.

The drivers approached the plantation house with their wagon. One pointed out the silhouettes in the window and bellowed. “Fire!”

The others began pumping the levers of the pump, filling the hose with pressure and oil, and another aimed the end at the house. Moments later, flaming liquid shot out and coated the wooden walls, burning and cackling against the paint of the house. The next surge splattered in through a broken window, igniting the canvas head of one of the slaves. The driver holding the hose cheered, punching a fist into the air, until he realized that the victim wasn’t moving or shouting.

Another surge of liquid fire shot out before he was ready and he had to brace himself and hastily try to rectify his aim. “What the hell, Smith?” Cartman shouted, manning the pump.

“They aren’t in there!”

“What?”

It was difficult to discern what each was saying amidst the roar of the various fires nearby. Smith squinted at Cartman, both sweating and covered in grime and tar. “It’s some sort of trap! We have to pull back!”

Cartman laughed incredulously. He stopped laughing when Smith suddenly went rigid, a pickaxe embedded in his back. The hose slipped from his fingers and his eyes widened, blinking, trying to clear his failing vision, before he tumbled out of the wagon and onto the charring earth.

“Shit!” one of the other drivers shouted.

“Keep pumping!” Cartman abandoned his post and grabbed the hose, looking wildly about, trying to discern their attackers through the ever shifting smoke. He coughed as a billow blew into his face, momentarily shutting his eyes. When he opened them again, one of the two remaining drivers with him was shouting that he saw one of them. Cartman wheeled the hose about to face the shadow he caught slipping behind the unburned brush. “Pump!” he bellowed and in seconds a jet of fire was streaming into the bushes. “We’re gonna kill you all, you filth!” He glanced over his shoulder at his fellows. “Keep pumping!”

The bushes roared into flame and as soon as he saw the movement of people exiting them, he aimed the hose at their bodies and fired. He hollered in triumph when he heard a scream as someone was burnt. As his hose surged again he aimed the stream at the victim’s cries. When the fire petered out he waited a moment for his crew to keep pumping, expecting to feel the buildup of pressure again. There was nothing. He frowned. “What the hell is wrong with you?!” He pivoted to look over his shoulder and froze.

His two crewmen were on the floor of the wagon, their throats slit. Two young women stood in their places, each with a knife in hand, their chests heaving, their faces marred by soot. He immediately whirled the hose around, attempting to fling whatever burning oil he could onto the two. Teyla ducked and Binti cried out as several drops splattered onto her skin and singed her clothing. Teyla screamed and flew at Cartman, knocking him off of his perch and landing on top of him.

He recovered enough senses enough to bring a knee up and slam it into her back. Teyla lurched forward and pressed her knife against his throat. He punched her in the face with the side of his fist then attempted to scramble to his feet but her thighs held him in place. He cried out, slamming his fists into any part of her body that he could reach, hitting her in the arms and sides and abdomen. Teyla yanked the blade across the side of his neck, stilling him with the shock of his own blood surging into his throat.

She leaned in close, vaguely aware that the roiling heat against her skin warned of approaching flames. “Do you remember the runaway you whipped? The man you killed?”

Cartman coughed. “Several.”

Teyla’s chin shook. “His name was Ronon, and I want you to die knowing that your actions have led you here...”

Cartman’s breath was coming in gurgles. “...Whore.”

She screamed and with a deft stroke, slit his throat. Teyla leapt off of him as the plantation house near her collapsed in flame, sending a fury of sparks into the air. The last thing Cartman saw in the seconds of his death were the glowing embers against the black smoke, parting momentarily to reveal a small, approaching ship of a shape he’d never seen before. His life left before he could even wonder.

Branded Heart

Branded Heart Homepage
Previous Chapter
Next