Chapter 5
“I could get used to Elphaba being Queen of the Kings of the whosits and whatevers,” Rodney McKay declared around a mouthful of turkey leg during the last feast of the week-long baby shower. “I’m going to miss the feasts. We should do this more often. Like for Christmas.”
“Hansen celebrates Hanukkah, remember?” John Sheppard pointed out. (“Right!” McKay snapped his fingers enthusiastically.) “And I don’t think I’ll ever get used to it. She kept it real quiet for a long time, it’s hard to imagine her … y’know …” he shrugged uncomfortably, “queenly. She’s not very regal. She doesn’t even wear a crown. How are you supposed to know?”
“I think it is lovely that Devanye has taken on the mantle of leadership but none of the trappings,” Teyla defended.
“And she rides a dragon,” Ronon argued thoughtfully, taking a marginally more polite bite of his turkey leg than McKay was doing. “That’s pretty queenly.”
“I’m not saying it’s a bad thing!” Sheppard denied. “She seems to have introduced democracy to Westeros and Middle Earth, that’s … cool. Very cool. But she’s not exactly queen material. She’s just Hansen. It’s weird.”
McKay rolled his eyes. “Everything about Elphaba is weird, Sheppard, but now there are feasts! And there need to be more of them. How long is Hanukkah again?”
“Eight days,” Sheppard answered.
“That is a good duration for more feasting!” McKay waved his turkey leg. “Ideally, we would get her to do eight days of Hanukkah and twelve days of Christmas …”
“One of her kings is Christian,” Teyla conceded.
“Really?” Sheppard frowned.
“Carson was raised Catholic,” Teyla nodded. “But if he is still devout now, he is very private. Devanye meets up with me for tea and lately we have been discussing the many religions of Earth.” Her lips quirked. “She refers to Jesus as the Gentiles’ favorite Jew.”
“See, that’s Hansen all over,” Sheppard declared. “Not at all queenly.”
“Do you have some problem with Devanye being a queen, John?” Elizabeth asked with mild censure.
“No, of course not,” he denied earnestly. “It’s just weird and unexpected and … she does this every six months or so, surprises us with some big, weird, unexpected secret, and it’s always bigger and weirder and more unexpected than the last one. And I’m just … a little concerned about what’s going to top this one.”
“Oh, my sweet summer child,” Devanye snickered from behind him, and he jumped.
“How long have you been there?” he snapped.
“Like four seconds,” Devanye assured him. “I’d be happy to show you my next big, weird, unexpected secret if you’ve got a minute. You and Dr. Weir. There are some people who would like to offer their help with the Wraith.”
They all glanced up at her sharply. “More people?”
Devanye beamed. “Many, many more.”
It was decided, once Devanye introduced Colonel Sheppard and Dr. Weir to Minister Goldstein, who was working with the Undersecretary and acting Israeli Prime Minister, that an elite company of the IDF (along with three dozen wizards) would attend training with the delegations of Westeros and Middle Earth and relay their training to the rest in the next six months.
And then it was time for tea with Queen Arwen.
“I am honored you chose me to be Layla’s godmother,” she murmured warmly over her teacup.
“Of course,” Devanye demurred, smirking at her husbands, whose jaws were slack as they stared at Queen Arwen’s beauty. She seemed to glow with an ethereal light, hair like midnight draping down her slender shoulders under her mithril circlet. She wore a simple blue dress embroidered with the White Tree of Gondor and studded with jewels like stars. She was queenly.
And John had been all too right about Devanye, especially compared to Arwen Undomiel. But Arwen had never ridden Danaerys, nor did she have any desire to.
“I thought, perhaps, you would change your mind with the arrival of your new refugees,” Arwen suggested. “You would be wise to do so; your bond with them is still tender and young, not as old and strong as ours.”
“Ours has been too long neglected,” Devanye pointed out, “for which I am very sorry.”
“Do not be,” Arwen smiled, reaching across the table to clasp Devanye’s hand. “You have had much to attend to, and Lord Legolas tells me you have lost your mind. That would be a grievous blow to anyone.”
“It’s manageable, but thank you,” Devanye smiled.
“That is good to hear,” Arwen sighed. “I have missed our talks.”
“You had talks?” Carson managed a bit breathlessly. “What … what about?”
“About the proper running of a democracy,” Arwen answered mildly. “About plants and birds and beasts. About magic and faith. About needlework and knitting. About most things, Devanye need not walk or ride to see me, as she has an enchanted mirror that allows us to speak directly whenever we so wish. She used to eat alone and would seek me out to season her food with good company and good cheer. I was much heartened when I saw you and Severus in her kitchen.”
“You can see into our kitchen?” Severus blinked.
“The enchanted mirror is behind the stove,” Arwen told him, then her face darkened, troubled. “I saw when Devanye lost her mind. It was terrible to behold. I feared that Cedric had cursed her.”
“Nope, just bipolar disorder,” Devanye assured her. “It’s very common and treatable with medication and therapy. But you’ve seen that, too.”
“I have,” Arwen agreed, and clasped Devanye’s hand tighter. “And I have seen how Severus treats you and Carson.”
Severus blanched.
“We’re working on it,” Devanye smiled. “You can’t see the work we do with Dr. Kate, we meet with her in the living room. Thank you for your concern. If an emergency should arise, you will be the first to know.”
“I am sorry you lost Seanair.”
“You know about Seanair?!” Severus bristled, the spell Arwen’s beauty had woven over him broken.
Devanye tensed. “Severus ―”
“Is nothing sacred?” he snapped. “You didn’t think to warn me there was a bloody queen spying on us through the backsplash?!”
“I hadn’t heard from her in a while, nor had I attempted to make contact, I didn’t know she was there!” Devanye retorted. “Do we have to do this now, Severus? I enchanted a mirror when I was lonely, I’m not going to apologize for that. Arwen has kept a respectful distance, all things considered.”
“I, er …” he said tightly, “I … apologize. For what you have seen.”
“It is not in my purview to forgive you,” Arwen returned. “I am not one you have wronged.”
“I actually,” Devanye cut in brightly, “had something I wanted to discuss with you. Arwen.” And she pulled out a pair of boxes, which contained a pair of rings; one with a blue stone and one with a blinding white. “I am going to offer you and Legolas either Nenya or Vilya and want to know which one you prefer. Your father’s ring, or your grandmother’s. Gandalf of course still has Narya.”
“That is a kingly gift,” Arwen gasped softly, her long white fingers trembling over the blue ring. “I had not realized Adar and Hiril Galadriel had not had their rings when they made their last stand for us to escape.”
“It was a carefully guarded secret,” Devanye told her quietly, “to prevent Sauron learning their whereabouts ― Gandalf, as an istari, is of course keeping his, but it is high time I found a new home for these two. We have left Sauron far behind us.”
“And we have a new war ahead of us,” Arwen frowned. She plucked the blue ring delicately from its box, holding it up to the light, beautiful tears scintillating in her grey eyes. “Legolas is also a kinsman of Galadriel, I would prefer my father’s ring. But surely all three would be better off in your hands and those of your consorts, Devanye.”
“They’re the Elven rings, and we are not Elves.”
“Neither is Mithrandir,” Arwen pointed out.
“Gandalf is more familiar with Elf magic ―”
“You are quite skilled in our magic, Devanye,” Arwen reasoned. “Surely your consorts would be as well?”
“What is she talking about?” Severus asked. “I thought our magic and theirs were incompatible.”
“I can learn Elf magic, they cannot learn our magic,” Devanye explained. “I haven’t tried you on Elf magic ― and in any case, Arwen, Carson is just a Man with none of Numenor in his veins.”
“He has Ancient in his veins,” Severus pointed out.
“Carson is quite adamant about preserving life, not the tactical advantage these rings give those wearing them,” Devanye told him before turning back to Arwen. “I am a dragon-rider, Arwen. These are meant to stay with you and with Legolas.”
Arwen nodded, placing the ring back in its box. “When did you intend to give them out?”
“After the brit,” Devanye told her.
“The ceremony in which you remove a piece of your child’s body,” Arwen said, sitting back in her seat and taking a dainty sip of her tea. “Men have such strange customs.”
“It’s Jewish,” Devanye laughed lightly. “Though I imagine it is a bit strange from an Elvish perspective. Judah will enter into the covenant between God and our people, and this is the weirdly specific thing God asks of the men to enter into said covenant.”
Lord Gimli brought profoundly tender roast beef to his tea party, and the mithril shirts, their delicate and tiny chainmail clinking softly as Severus and Carson hefted them, surprised at their lightness. Devanye offered him, in return, a pair of fine fingerless mittens.
“It’s vicuna,” she told him proudly and Severus and Carson exchanged confused glances.
“Ah, so you got one, did you, lass?” Gimli chortled.
“I have a mating pair,” Devanye told him brightly. “Finally figured out how to transfigure them from sheep.”
“A mating pair of this … vicuna?” Severus prompted.
“Sorry, vicuna are a breed of fleece animal a lot like alpacas native to South America,” Devanye explained. “They’re smaller and go back to the Ice Age, and almost extinct. As a result, their fleece is prohibitively expensive. But it is very soft and warm.” And with that, she placed the mittens in Gimli’s hands.
He gasped softly at the sight of the golden-haired woman in white depicted on the back of each with her arms outstretched in a giving gesture. “Is that …?”
“The Lady Galadriel,” Devanye nodded. “Or as close as I can get with yarn.”
“I thought you said they never went through Moria?” Carson asked. “How did Lord Gimli meet Lady Galadriel?”
“In battle,” Devanye explained quietly when Gimli seemed unable to. “She saw what Boromir had done and easily predicted that Sauron and Saruman’s forces would converge on him when he took the south road toward Gondor. She took her army south to meet us ― and a good thing, too. Cedric was with the Dark Lord’s forces and dealt the blow that killed Boromir. He had come in overwhelming numbers and Galadriel saved Gimli’s life. We chased them all the way to the Black Gate, where Galadriel foresaw that we would be surrounded and no one would make it out alive. Then she urged me to retreat with as many as we could spare to Rivendell, where Elrond had gathered everyone who couldn’t fight. Except for the hobbits, who refused to leave the Shire, thinking that the darkness wouldn’t bother them because they were small and simple. Elrond, who also had powers of clairvoyance, saw that Galadriel in her last stand had been slain with everyone who stood with her, and the forces of darkness were making their way toward us with all haste. It was a very near thing; Elrond and his sons held the Bruinen, but Rivendell was surrounded by orcs for miles. We had just gotten the last ones through when they were slain and enemies started pouring in from all sides.”
“How did you get out?” Carson frowned.
“I didn’t,” Devanye shook her head. “I shrunk the snowglobe down to hide it in my Nexplanon and was captured and taken back to Cedric so he could gloat and do it all again somewhere else.”
“That’s horrible!” Carson gasped in outrage.
Devanye exchanged a look with Gimli. “Yes,” she finally acknowledged.
“What happened in Westeros?” he wanted to know.
“The Long Night came.” Devanye’s hands trembled and she gripped her teacup more tightly. “I don’t talk about the how and why of it, I’m afraid. It’s best left in the past.”
“You ought to talk about it at least with Kate,” he urged and Severus placed a hand over his with a warning look when Devanye stiffened.
“This isn’t appropriate for tea,” he intervened. “They are lovely mittens, Devanye. I am sure you captured her likeness well enough.”
“They’re perfect,” Gimli agreed thickly.