A MidWinter Celebration

by The Grrrl

Title: A MidWinter Celebration

Author: The Grrrl

Author's email: thegrrrl2002@gmail.com

Author's URL: http://thegrrrl2002.slashcity.org/

Archive: Ask first.

Fandom: Stargate Atlantis

Pairing: Sheppard/McKay

Summary: Rodney is queen for a day.

"Congratulations, Rodney," John said, nudging him with an elbow. "I guess this means you were the tenth caller."

The village elder beamed at Rodney. "Come this way," she said, alarmingly happy. "The festivities will begin immediately."

"Wait, wait--" Rodney gazed beseechingly at his team. "I don't understand?"

"It's a great honor, Rodney," Teyla said with a smile. "It is very rare that an outsider is bestowed this title."

"Come, we must prepare you." The elder took Rodney by the hand and began to lead him to the village.

"Prepare me?" Rodney stumbled in the snow, falling to his knees. "But what if I don't want the title?"

John helped him up. "How could you not want to be Snow Queen for a day?" he asked, brushing the snow from Rodney's jacket.

"Are you serious?"

"It's totally cool," John said, and dear god, he was serious.

They were led to a large tent with a roaring fire in the center of it. Long tables lined either side, and at one end, obviously a place of honor, was a large dais. The chair was huge and heavily decorated with boughs of some sort of evergreen bush, bright with red berries. Shiny white ribbons were draped all around, streaming down from the back of the chair and curling gracefully onto the floor.

The elder snapped her fingers, and two young men appeared with a white robe. Before Rodney could protest again John and Ronon were helping him off with his tac vest and jacket. "I'm not, what are you--oh hey, it's kind of pretty," Rodney said, fingering the intricate beadwork.

"Sparkly," John nodded, head cocked to one side.

The robe was warm and heavy, with soft silky fur lining the edges. "How do I look?" Rodney asked as they tied it around his waist.

"Pretty," Ronon said.

"Yes, very," Teyla agreed. "It is exquisite workmanship."

"It really does catch the light, doesn't it?" Rodney held up an arm, admiring it. "But how come I can't be the Snow King? Why is it the Snow Queen?"

The elder--Rodney had forgotten her name--informed him, "The origins of the celebration are from an ancient ceremony performed to appease the goddess with worship and offerings for a mild winter and a fertile growing season." She arranged the collar of the robe, straightening it. "It was decided many years ago to open up the title to both men and woman so that all may share in the honor."

"And it is quite an honor," Teyla said, with a pointed glance at Rodney. "We thank you for allowing us to participate. It is very generous of you and your people."

"Yes, yes," Rodney said, knowing a prompt when he saw it. "Thank you. We're...honored. Honest."

The elder nodded proudly, then a young woman appeared at her side, holding a pillow with a circular object resting on top of it. It glittered in the firelight. "A crown?" Rodney asked. "I get to wear a crown?"

"But of course. You are the queen." The elder lifted the crown with both hands and waited expectantly.

Teyla whispered, "I believe you must kneel."

"Oh, great." Rodney sighed. The robe was damn heavy, and his knees weren't good on the best of days. But--it was a crown. "Okay."

He knelt, and the elder placed the crown on his head with great reverence. She spoke a few words that Rodney didn't understand, then stepped back.

"Do I get a scepter?" Rodney asked as John helped him to his feet. The crown slid to one side, stopped only by Rodney's left ear. John caught it and righted it again. "I think all rulers need a scepter."

"If you wish," the elder said, taking his hand. She led him to the throne and Rodney walked carefully, so as to not jar his crown. "You are the Snow Queen. For one day, you may have whatever you please."

"What about dancing girls? I really like dancing girls." Rodney pretended he didn't see John scowling at him.

The elder smiled delightedly. "Then the most beautiful girls of the village will dance for you."

Rodney climbed the three stairs to the throne chair, not an easy task with a weighty robe and unsteady crown. Three small children appeared out of seemingly nowhere and lifted the trailing fabric, helping him turn around and then adjusting it so he could sit.

The chair was pretty comfortable, cushioned by the sweet-smelling evergreen boughs. From his platform, Rodney could see the entire room. There were musicians setting up in one corner, and food being carried in on large platters.

"That smells really good." Ronon said. "When do we eat?"

"Soon," the elder said with an indulgent smile.

"Will there be cake?" Rodney asked.

"If you wish there to be."

Rodney squared his shoulders. "I do," he intoned, solemnly. "Cake for all. Except him," Rodney added, pointing to John.

"And so it will be."

"Hey," John complained, glaring at Rodney.

Rodney smiled beatifically.

The elder clapped her hands and smiled. "Let the bestowing of offerings begin!"

The music started up and a procession of brightly dressed men and women entered the room. They brought a dizzying array of items for bestowing, including mugs of warm, spiced wine, flowers, cakes, bowls of pleasant-smelling leafy things (potpourri, John pointed out excitedly), candles, a small fluffy puppy (Rodney was made to understand he must return it by the end of his reign, no matter how cuddly it was), and, to Rodney's delight, a scepter, which might have been a table leg in a past life but now was covered with red ribbon and silvery dangles. It was an endless stream of gifts, all which Rodney examined and admired effusively before passing them on to Ronon and John, his ladies in waiting.

The dancing girls actually were quite lovely and talented, if overdressed. Then there were lovely dancing boys, followed by dancing children, and Rodney became a bit worried that a dancing bear might show up next.

Thankfully, the food was served next, large chunks of roast meat, delicately dressed vegetables, something very much like mashed potatoes, and of course, more wine.

"Uh oh," Rodney said, shifting in his chair uncomfortably. He motioned for John to come to him.

"Yes, imperious one?"

Rodney motioned for him to lean closer. "The queen has to pee," he whispered.

John snickered.

"Hey, it's not funny--I've got 50 pounds of imperial robes on here. And a crown. I can scarcely walk."

"Maybe queens aren't supposed to pee."

"Well then queens shouldn't be served so much spiced wine," Rodney snapped. "Now go and ask that nice lady where the bathrooms are."

"Yes, your highness." John gave a sloppy salute and headed off.

When John returned, Rodney was informed that the Snow Queen had a private bathroom of her own, accessible through a small doorway just behind the throne.

Rodney appointed John as his Royal Lavatory Attendant, instructing him to remove the crown from his head and place it carefully on the back of the chair. "You may hold my robes, too" Rodney intoned as he rose from his seat. The room swayed fuzzily. "Whoa."

"Sure. Anything else you might want me to hold?" John asked, all too innocent.

"Yes, you pervert, my hand, so I don't take an unseemly tumble down these steps."

John gathered up the trailing fabric and offered Rodney a jaunty arm to hold as they made their way down the steps. With great dignity they strolled into the small, surprisingly modern bathroom, heads held high.

"Oh, thank god." Rodney frantically attacked the knot at this side with clumsy fingers. "Get me out of this thing."

"Here, let me." John untied the knot with a sultry smile, then slipped his hands underneath. "Ooh. Warm," he said.

"Taking liberties, aren't we?" Rodney sneered haughtily.

John proceeded to take even greater liberties with Rodney's mouth, kissing him lewdly.

"As nice as this is," Rodney murmured, nuzzling John's chin. "I really must--"

"Oops." John looked sheepish. "Of course."

Rodney made use of the room's facilities with John behind him, holding the robe out of danger and it was odd yet pleasantly intimate to lean against John's strong body, warm breath on his neck as he emptied his bladder--sweet, sweet relief at last. After he cleaned up, Rodney began buttoning up his pants but John stopped him with a hand to his wrist.

"What?" Rodney asked.

"Need to pay homage to the queen," John whispered in his ear, hand sliding down into Rodney's pants.

"I think you're enjoying this queen thing a little too much," Rodney protested, but his voice went a little breathless as John cupped his soft cock. "But, um, okay, whatever works for you."

John gave a low, dirty laugh, then turned Rodney around and sank down onto his knees. Rodney gasped as a warm mouth engulfed him, sucking him to full hardness in no time at all. So good, so fantastically and good and Rodney clung to the sink to keep from crumbling to the ground. "Oh, god yes, yes, you may do whatever you please."

John ran his hands over the robe and moaned, mouth vibrating deliciously around Rodney's cock and it didn't take much, despite the wine and the heat and the location and the whole entire crazy day, because John knew how to do wonderful things with his mouth, knew how to take Rodney apart and put him back together again. Before long John was on his feet again, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, looking altogether smug and happy and pleased as Rodney panted, wide-eyed and astonished, because even after all this time, it was amazing to have John do this for him.

"You will be rewarded," Rodney finally managed, grasping John's shoulders. "Greatly rewarded."

"Damn right." John cupped Rodney's face. "Just wait till we get back to the city."

Another luscious kiss, and then John closed up Rodney's robe, tying it securely and straightening the collar. "Ready to face your adoring multitudes?"

Rodney nodded, then lifted his chin. "Let us carry on. My people need me."


Rodney leaned back in his throne, regal and serene as he petted the sleeping puppy curled up on his lap. He gave up on trying to keep the crown centered on his head, allowing it to rest against one ear. John was settled in at his feet, head resting against Rodney's knee, hem of the royal robe draped over one shoulder. His hand was hidden beneath, curled around Rodney's ankle.

"It's good to be the queen," Rodney mused as he smiled down at his people.

"Oh yeah," John said, yawning. He gave Rodney's ankle a squeeze.

And the party continued on 'till dawn.

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