Chapter Text
Cameron receives another promotion nearing the middle of the winter. She doesn’t understand the exact hierarchy of the military on this planet, but he explains that he has a few more duties than when he was active in the military on Earth.
She curls up next to him on the couch as the warmth from the fire curls before them. She leans her head on his shoulder, watching plump snowflakes drift softly against a black sky. Her arms hoop around his middle, and her stomach, now no longer hideable, sits in his lap, and his hand caresses slowly while the baby kicks within her.
“They gave me my weekly pay today.”
She yawns, suddenly tired, but nuzzles her head back against his shoulder, content when he turns his head to drop a kiss to her hairline where she still has a prominent scar. “Were you compensated appropriately?”
“And then some.”
“Enough to keep us rich in boar stew for the next month, I hope.”
“Enough to buy you a dress that actually fits.”
Her second yawn is pre-empted by her laugh, and she traces his chin with her finger. “Now that’s a waste.”
“Enough to buy you a coat.” He kisses the pad of her finger as it drifts across his lips. “So, you don’t freeze in this weather.”
“More useful, but still wasteful.”
They go for a stroll through the woods a week later after she receives her new coat and dresses from the tailor. He hands them to her, getting them a little looser so she can grow into them. A rich redness creeps into her cheeks because she’s received hundreds of gifts, thousands, human sacrifices slaughtered in her name and honor, but none has ever meant as much as this.
Only agrees to go on a short jaunt with her after she held one of his hands in both of hers and pleaded because she misses the wilderness that’s always been present in the background of her life. Misses the sound of a babbling river and the muted stillness of snow.
“Fine. Fine.” Pushes himself off the couch, ready to replace all the outerwear he took off not two hours ago when he marched home from work. Slides on his coat, and then wraps the uneven, practically abstract, scarf she knitted for him around his neck.
Helps her with her boots when he finds her with her knee bent back and trying to slip on the tough animal hide over her swelling feet. Buttons the ornate clasps on her coat and ensures the equally oblong scarf she knitted for herself is tucked neatly at her neck.
They walk slow, without a destination, just away from the village through the snow up to the middle of her calf. Stay close enough to the houses that the lanterns and lamp lights illuminate the path before them, but far enough away so the only sound they hear is their own footsteps, the huff of each other’s warm exhalations wisping away on the icy wind.
“Is this what your planet was like?” He tugs her arm through the loop of his, slowing his soldier’s gait to keep up with her waddle.
“Colder than this, Darling.” Takes in the sight of snow on what the Tau’ri call coniferous trees. If she remembers correctly, they tear one down, dragging it indoors around this time of year and decorate it with all sorts of shiny fire hazards.
It’s been over a decade since she’s seen the snow.
It’s been even longer since she’s been this happy to see it.
When she glances back to Cameron, he has a soft grin on his face. “What?”
He reaches forward and with his fingers plucks a large clump of snowflakes that have landed in her bangs. “I’ve never seen you this happy.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever been this happy.”
“Oh, well—” guides her to him, his lips planting over her scar once again “—I gotta change that.”
“When we get home, get back to Earth—” pauses her words because she doesn’t know how to phrase the next as they haven’t spoken about what could possibly happen yet. If she’ll be imprisoned yet again, separated from him, or if he thinks the military will allow her amnesty since she is pregnant with his child.
Must sense her unease because as much as they’d both like to return to amenities they’re used to—showers, television, instant hot chocolate—the unknown of how those in charge makes it just as dangerous as living here.
Different applications of danger, but each society is no less barbarous than the other. “When we get back home, we’re gonna live close to a park so we can go on winter night strolls anytime you want.”
“Really?”
“Yeah.” Nods, steering her in the direction back to town, they’re probably only half and hour away, but it is late, and the winds are starting to pick up. “We’ll go out for dinner at a nice restaurant, our house will have a backyard perfect for barbeques, we’ll light fourth of July fireworks, I’ll take you home to meet my mom—she’s gonna spoil you and this kid rotten.”
Is about to respond with pessimism, even though his outlook is so positive. He truly believes that they’ll return, everyone will be so happy to see them and so grateful that they’ve brought such pertinent information with them that they’ll gladly let her live with him without supervision and raise their not entirely Tau’ri child in peace without the threat of violence.
There are too many variables in this situation to allow her to remain completely optimistic.
Doesn’t want him to be wary of this, wary of her way of thinking, so instead she hugs herself against his arm and their feet start to crunch over the snow, the wet kind that’s been exposed to freezing temperatures at night creating a supportive layer of ice atop. When she was young she could walk on it for leagues and never leave a footprint, actually, was able to do this up until very recently because now when she walks, her foot goes right through the snow and she’s never felt so big in her life.
As if the baby can hear her ill thoughts, despite how quickly they disappear, she receives quite a kick to her side, forcing out a gasp.
Cameron stops immediately, one hand placed against her arm, helping to hold her and the other bouncing through the air, energetic, ready to go where she needs relief.
“Are you okay? What happened? Do you need—”
“Fine, Darling, I’m fine.” Grins despite the situation, laying a cool hand on his cheek, because as much as he tries to control their future, their present even, one little upset makes him completely lose his balance.
“Good. Good.” Helps her stand straighter again, hauling her up by her elbow. “What was that?”
“Your child decided to punt me in some internal organ.”
“Hey.” His eyebrows fall stern, and for a moment she believes he’s addressing her, but he pats her stomach gently. “Go easy on your mom, will ya?”
With a smile, she fixes the scarf at the back of his neck so the newly falling snow doesn’t descend down the crevasse. “I’m fine, Cameron.”
He shivers, retrieving her hand and holding it in his. “No, you’re not.” Breathes the words against her skin to warm her. “You’re freezing.”
Should tell him that what may appear freezing to him is natural to her, that even though she feels cold, her body doesn’t actually respond to it until it’s well below this temperature. Instead she tugs at the scarf, pulling it into place again. “We’d best be getting home then.”
They trudge through the snow in silence and she becomes entranced watching the snowflakes grow bright under the lamp lights. Soon their footsteps begin to ease as untraveled wilderness bleeds it’s way into cobblestone streets with different-sized shoe prints and some hoof stamps.
That’s when they start to hear the commotion.
The square is filled with villagers, in fact, it’s practically overflowing despite the cold temperatures and threat of a blizzard. Everyone is gathered in the center, the place where prayers and prostrations usually take place.
“What could that be?”
“I don’t know, maybe some religious thing?”
“Yes, don’t Tau’ri celebrate the solstice?”
“Not—exactly—” Cameron chooses to not expand more on the subject, instead starting to break through the layers of people shouting.
From what she can make out, the words and tone are angry, clouds of air puffing out from heated voices. Once they get to the town center, there’s a group of men preparing the shackles bolted to the bench, and her mind flashes back to their arrival and the charred corpse that greeted them.
Is about to pull Cameron back to their home, away from whatever violence will be enacted in a few minutes, but he hasn’t noticed what she has. Instead he’s noticed a particular man standing feet away with a content expression. “Tomin?”
“Cameron, my friend—” Tomin greets with the casual arm shake, then takes her hand more daintily. “Vala, you are aglow. Motherhood suits you well.”
“Tomin, what’s happening?” Cameron must notice them preparing because the redness from the winds drains from his face.
“A nonbelieving conspirator has been discovered in Ver Isca.” Tomin steps forward pointing to where one man, the tailor who made her this coat and dress, and another man, believes he’s their neighbor from a few doors down, nod to each other when the shackles have no give. “I do not want to appear boastful, but the prior guided me towards them and I was able to—”
“Your leg.” Cameron interrupts, pointing at the no longer lame and limping appendage. “It’s—”
“Healed. Yes.” A great, proud grin graces Tomin’s face from the corner of his lips to his eyes. “The Prior healed me for discovering the nonbeliever. I am now able to serve the Ori in a more substantial way. Though I am pleased to sever the Ori, I am also relieved that the nonbeliever was captured and will be eliminated before their plot could come to fruition.”
“What plan?”
“To sabotage the vessels we have strove so hard to create. Apparently weapons were to be implemented to—”
But his voice fades away, as does Cameron’s and the near hundred other villagers yelling for retribution, because they bring out the conspirator, who kicks and screams, each of her arms being held down by a man. She cries for help, her face wet and red not from a happy snow jaunt. A cut on her cheek and one on her temple bleeds as she openly sobs while being shackled to the bench.
Their eyes meet as she draws in a heaving breath, while flaming oil is prepared a few feet away.
“Help me,” she says aloud, but is polite enough to not mention her by name.
She starts to climb towards the woman, over the uneven steps of the maze. Gets exactly two steps in before Cameron reels her backwards, and when she tries to shake him off, to fight against him, he’s able to reign her in, both his arms bound around hers as she stares up at her friend as a sacrificial pullet.
“Let me—”
Cameron jolts her, shakes her hard enough to cause her to still. His chin is on her shoulder, and his voice is a low growl, “you wanna end up with her?”
“We have to—”
But it’s too late.
“It is time my friends.” Tomin claps a hand onto Cameron’s back, not noticing her turmoil, or their spat.
The oil is poured and courses quickly through the maze. She wrenches against Cameron’s body, pushing back against him as her friend still begs for help. He turns her, tries to walk away, perhaps back to their house, but Tomin stops him.
“It is a great honor to experience the death of a nonbeliever from so near.”
They are forced to stay.
Cameron releases her as her body trembles into shock upon watching Denya emit a shrill, raw scream while the fire laps at her feet and the hem of her dress.
And her friend stares at her while burning alive.