Born in the Barrens by Eildon Rhymer (T)
Mar. 8th, 2009 02:50 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sholio posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
stargateficrecRec Category: John Sheppard & Rodney McKay friendship
Pairing: none
Category: hurt/comfort, AU
Warning: slavefic, torture
Author on LJ:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
rhymer23
Author's Website: Stargate Atlantis fanfic
Link: Born in the Barrens
Why This Must Be Read: I think it's fair to say that SGA is the fandom that finally sold me on AUs.
And this is a good one. The worldbuilding is just fantastic -- a gorgeously original world, with a steampunk feel to it, plus a very organic and believable magic system woven in. Rodney is an alchemist working for the slave-keeping Genii, while hiding secrets of his own. Kolya gives him a "gift": an abused and traumatized, dark-haired, nameless slave who can barely speak.
Given the extremely different circumstances, it's fascinating to see the characters' canon personalities (and relationships) slowly emerge from their AU selves. It's just John and Rodney for the first half of the story, with the rest of the cast showing up later on, though the focus remains on the two of them. The plot is also interesting and holds together well, and it's full of creative and original ideas -- even those that are just dropped in and peripheral to the main story, like Teyla's fascinating-sounding backstory, which reflects her canon backstory with a few magical twists.
Excerpt:
It was never truly dark in the city of the Genii. They were addicted to alchemy – not good at it, mind, but fascinated by it, gleefully producing simple, glittering toys. Discs of incandescent metal topped the towers and engine-houses, making it a sky of a hundred false moons. Their nights were silver and black, and their days were cold and gleaming.
Silver flowed in through the quickened glass of the windows. Rodney rolled over, pressing his forearm against his eyes. His fingertips smarted with the aftermath of late-night working, and his dreams were heavy with memories of places he would rather be. Home, he was home - or perhaps by the ocean, beneath pinnacles of crystal and carved stone. He was in a place with colour and with no--
"Adept McKay." The voice penetrated his dreaming.
"What…?" Rodney threw off his blanket, his heart already beating faster. "How… how did you…?" He scraped his hand through his hair; reminded himself of the role he was supposed to be playing. "What part of 'working' don't you people understand?"
The soldier's eyes flickered with something he was too well trained to show completely.
"I was thinking," Rodney said. "I was working until well after the chimes of three. I was resting my eyes and thinking…", in a high-backed chair, covered with a blanket woven in other, distant places; neck stiff and sore, eyes itching with fumes and memories; thinking...
"Of course, my lord Adept," the soldier said. "The High Lord Cowen has sent you a gift, as a gesture of thanks for all the work you have done for him." A muscle at the side of his mouth twitched. "The throne room has never been more bright or the war machines more gleaming."
"A gift?" Rodney's stomach rumbled despite himself. "Those fondant fancies he--"
"A slave, my lord Adept. One of General Kolya's own."
"A slave?" Rodney frowned. "Why ever would I want a slave? Does a slave know how to prepare an elementary fixing? Does a slave know the secret name of lead? Apprentices I can use, even if they do keep on opening the door and letting people in when I expressly asked not to be disturbed. A slave – and I've seen your slaves… No." He flapped his hand. "I don't want it. Take it away."
"And refuse the High Lord Cowen's gift?"
Rodney stopped; pressed his hands to his face. When he lowered them, the windows were still gleaming. "Stop it!" he shouted, striking the metal frame with his fist, then smoothing it out, jaggedly tracing the correct symbols, muttering the necessary words. The air was cold outside, and the street was grey in the early light of morning. "Of course I won't refuse the gift," he said stiffly, still not turning round. "Send the slave in – him, her, it. Tell the High Lord Cowen that I received it gratefully."
Pairing: none
Category: hurt/comfort, AU
Warning: slavefic, torture
Author on LJ:
rhymer23Author's Website: Stargate Atlantis fanfic
Link: Born in the Barrens
Why This Must Be Read: I think it's fair to say that SGA is the fandom that finally sold me on AUs.
And this is a good one. The worldbuilding is just fantastic -- a gorgeously original world, with a steampunk feel to it, plus a very organic and believable magic system woven in. Rodney is an alchemist working for the slave-keeping Genii, while hiding secrets of his own. Kolya gives him a "gift": an abused and traumatized, dark-haired, nameless slave who can barely speak.
Given the extremely different circumstances, it's fascinating to see the characters' canon personalities (and relationships) slowly emerge from their AU selves. It's just John and Rodney for the first half of the story, with the rest of the cast showing up later on, though the focus remains on the two of them. The plot is also interesting and holds together well, and it's full of creative and original ideas -- even those that are just dropped in and peripheral to the main story, like Teyla's fascinating-sounding backstory, which reflects her canon backstory with a few magical twists.
Excerpt:
It was never truly dark in the city of the Genii. They were addicted to alchemy – not good at it, mind, but fascinated by it, gleefully producing simple, glittering toys. Discs of incandescent metal topped the towers and engine-houses, making it a sky of a hundred false moons. Their nights were silver and black, and their days were cold and gleaming.
Silver flowed in through the quickened glass of the windows. Rodney rolled over, pressing his forearm against his eyes. His fingertips smarted with the aftermath of late-night working, and his dreams were heavy with memories of places he would rather be. Home, he was home - or perhaps by the ocean, beneath pinnacles of crystal and carved stone. He was in a place with colour and with no--
"Adept McKay." The voice penetrated his dreaming.
"What…?" Rodney threw off his blanket, his heart already beating faster. "How… how did you…?" He scraped his hand through his hair; reminded himself of the role he was supposed to be playing. "What part of 'working' don't you people understand?"
The soldier's eyes flickered with something he was too well trained to show completely.
"I was thinking," Rodney said. "I was working until well after the chimes of three. I was resting my eyes and thinking…", in a high-backed chair, covered with a blanket woven in other, distant places; neck stiff and sore, eyes itching with fumes and memories; thinking...
"Of course, my lord Adept," the soldier said. "The High Lord Cowen has sent you a gift, as a gesture of thanks for all the work you have done for him." A muscle at the side of his mouth twitched. "The throne room has never been more bright or the war machines more gleaming."
"A gift?" Rodney's stomach rumbled despite himself. "Those fondant fancies he--"
"A slave, my lord Adept. One of General Kolya's own."
"A slave?" Rodney frowned. "Why ever would I want a slave? Does a slave know how to prepare an elementary fixing? Does a slave know the secret name of lead? Apprentices I can use, even if they do keep on opening the door and letting people in when I expressly asked not to be disturbed. A slave – and I've seen your slaves… No." He flapped his hand. "I don't want it. Take it away."
"And refuse the High Lord Cowen's gift?"
Rodney stopped; pressed his hands to his face. When he lowered them, the windows were still gleaming. "Stop it!" he shouted, striking the metal frame with his fist, then smoothing it out, jaggedly tracing the correct symbols, muttering the necessary words. The air was cold outside, and the street was grey in the early light of morning. "Of course I won't refuse the gift," he said stiffly, still not turning round. "Send the slave in – him, her, it. Tell the High Lord Cowen that I received it gratefully."
