It seemed like all hell broke loose once they reached the castle.

They’d enjoyed an hour or two walking through the village, conversing with many who had questions. Lady Morgana was more than pleased to show SG1 the sights—obviously proud of what her people had accomplished. It seemed that every turn they made, Sam was more and more impressed by what she saw. These people, although far behind Earth technologically, were not primitive. Many of the methods they used here for metalwork were still being used on Earth today.

Lady Morgana also excelled at small talk, asking questions about Sam’s home and her family and sharing much in return regarding her place in Meath. At the very least, Sam was certain she had found a friend in the woman and had already been invited back to visit for a more extended stay. One day, Sam thought, she might take Lady Morgana up on that offer.

Lady Morgana had sent Turlough ahead to have the kitchens prepare an early dinner. She was apparently eager to complete the treaty tonight and didn’t want to inconvenience anyone by forcing them to talk about business on an empty stomach.

Minutes after they arrived at the castle, however, Lady Morgana pitched a fit—and a large one at that.

Lady Morgana’s exclamation could he heard outside the Great Hall and its thick stone walls and heavy wooden doors. With her green eyes blazing, she advanced on Turlough with a fury so intense Sam wondered if Lady Morgana had somehow lost her senses.

Sam flashed a quick worried glance at Daniel, Stan, and Paul. Their shocked expressions must have matched hers, as they watched in fascination, unable to turn away from the scene unfolding before them.

"What do you mean he’s missing? What kind of idiocy is this?"

"My Lady, you sent me on ahead…to prepare the evening meal…and he was not with you when you returned," Turlough tried to explain, stumbling over his words, fear plainly evident in his voice, but Morgana was not listening.

"So, you are blaming me? Why is it that I get blamed for your incompetence?" Her voice was low and dangerous. Lord Kentigern was even standing back, watching and waiting to see where this would lead. Sam didn’t take that as a good sign. All the servants in the Hall had stopped in their tracks; their eyes firmly fixed on the Lady of the manor and the punishment she was about to dispense.

Turlough was sweating and a small stain appeared on his pants, spreading downward to trickle on the floor—drops of yellow mixing with the dust and dirt. Sam tried to turn away, to give this man some privacy from the humiliation Lady Morgana was serving tonight, but she couldn’t. Turlough—a big, brawny, masculine man’s man—was out of his mind with fear. What kind of person was Morgana if she could strike such fear into the heart of a full-grown warrior?

Sam was sickened and she felt, rather than saw, Daniel start toward the two figures that were engaged in this fascinating dance before them. She grabbed Daniel’s arm before he could step more than a foot, shaking her head furiously. No, this was not a time to interfere.

"But—" Daniel’s protest died on his lips, his eyes going wide.

Sam turned to see Turlough sliding to the floor, blood pouring from the gaping wound in his neck. Lady Morgana hovered over him, a bloody knife in her hand and a look of triumph and determination in her eyes.

"Would someone please take this piece of trash away from my sight?" Lady Morgana said, kicking the still warm body of her former servant and guard. Two servants hurried forward, lifting the body, a trail of blood dripping from the corpse as they carried it from the room.

Lady Morgana turned back to the crowd, wiping the knife on her gown, before she tucked the dagger back into its sheath at her waist. Gazing at the shocked faces before her, she offered only a small explanation. "He knew what was required of him and he was well aware of the penalty for not following through. I apologize that you all had to witness this…his punishment. That was not my intent. Please, let us retire to our rooms to allow the staff to prepare the room for us. We still have much to accomplish this night."

Daniel was shocked—or more accurately aghast—at what had transpired. To Lady Morgana, it was as if nothing had happened. When any self-respecting Lady would be serving tea and crumpets during afternoon tea, this Lady served up something far more dangerous—and deadly.

Vaguely, Daniel heard Stan Kovachek speaking quietly to Lord Kentigern and Lady Morgana. Something about how SG1 would wait for dinner in their quarters. All Daniel could do was stare at the dark puddle on the floor. It was only Sam’s urging and her prodding that got him moving out of the Great Hall and up the stairs toward their rooms. Hywel was leading the way, his face ashen.

Apparently, this was bothering more people than just Daniel.

Only once alone in their quarters with the door locked and secured behind them, did they relax a little, sitting meekly on the chairs adjacent to the fireplace. They all looked pale and Daniel knew that he could use the warmth of the fire right about now. The scene continued to play in his mind—especially her chilling disregard for human life.

"Sam, how…how can we even think about making a treaty with these…these…animals?" Daniel asked, the first to speak after an awkward silence settled on them, smothering them like a cold, wet blanket.

"Daniel—" Sam started, but was cut off by Paul Davis.

"Daniel, you have to realize that we cannot base our conclusions about an entire race of people on the actions of one. If we did that, where would humankind be?" Paul said his voice firm and determined.

"Paul, come on," Daniel said, pulling the glasses off his face and dropping them on the table. "We just can’t ignore what happened down there. It was…it was murder, for all intents and purposes."

"Capital punishment, actually," Stan Kovachek said quietly. "Lady Morgana acted as judge, jury, and executioner. In many cultures, people have been killed for less severe errors in judgement."

"But…but…that doesn’t mean we have to…to be friends with the likes of…of these people," Daniel said. He’d gotten up and was pacing around the room, too disturbed to sit still. His hands waved, gesturing widely, trying to emphasize his point.

"Daniel, I can understand your dislike of what happened down there," Paul started.

Daniel turned suddenly; his face screwed up as if he were in pain. "Dislike? Dislike doesn’t even begin to approach what I’m feeling right now. Disgust would be more like it."

"Daniel, even I know you are not the naive archeologist you used to be," Paul said, coming to his feet, his eyes firm and determined. Sam and Stan merely looked on, holding their tongues, waiting to see how this played out. "How many times have you killed a Goa'uld or someone else?"

"But, that’s different," Daniel argued, refusing to answer the question directly. The number was far higher than he liked—or even imagined—and he remembered each and every occasion. They haunted him in the dead of night, waking him from sleep, shaking and sweating as he relived it over and over again.

"How is it different?"

"I did it out of self defense or to protect a team member," Daniel retorted.

"Why?" Paul asked, his tone quiet, his head tilted to hear Daniel’s response.

"Why did I protect myself or my team mate? Because…because it’s the right thing to do."

"According to who?"

"What?" Daniel asked, surprise flickering across his face.

"Who says it’s the right thing to do? You? What if they were rightfully defending themselves against an aggressor—you in this instance?"

"We only fire in self-defense, as a last resort. We’re peaceful—"

"Peaceful my ass, Daniel," Paul said, his voice rising in volume. "You carry weapons and you know how to use them—quite effectively, or so I’ve been told. Since when do we have the right to impose our ways and our beliefs on the people we meet when we go through the gate?"

Daniel looked down at his shoes, unable to meet Paul’s gaze. "We don’t," he said quietly.

"Since when do we have the right to tell other races how to run their lives and their villages?" Paul’s voice was quiet now, kinder even. He knew he’d gotten his point across.

"We don’t."

"So?"

"So," Daniel said, glancing up, his eyes cold and hard. "I guess we go back downstairs and have dinner and act like nothing happened." Daniel knew his voice was bitter, but he didn’t care. He was tired and it was time to go home. This hadn’t worked out the way he wanted it to. "And then after dinner, we’ll sit down, finish the treaty and sign it, finalizing our allegiance with these people. We’ll all smile and act like civilized adults because this is the best thing for both of our peoples."

Daniel looked around at the faces before him—his friends—and rubbed his hand wearily across his face. He started for the door, pausing only to turn and offer a parting remark. "If you’ll excuse me, I need to get some fresh air before the farce begins again tonight."

Egan watched from the shadows as Daniel stormed out of his rooms, slamming the door closed behind him. No one would stop Daniel this night. Everyone was too busy with other matters—burying a friend and cleaning up the mess in the Great Hall.

Egan had seen the looks of disgust on the faces of the four strangers—especially on Daniel Jackson. The female, although taken aback by the violence, was more accepting of it. Samantha Carter had seen much in her young life. That much was apparent just by her reaction.

Egan followed Daniel at a discreet distance, silently gliding down the passageways, nodding quietly to servants as he passed.

Daniel was heading outside, Egan surmised, watching Daniel plod down the stairs. He walked out the door without a glance toward the Great Hall.

Would it be wise to follow the young man, to speak with him, to offer assurances on behalf of the people of Meath? In his current state of mind, Egan was doubtful whether or not Daniel would welcome the conversation. Although, Egan thought, stepping outside, pulling his cloak around his muscular frame, there would not be a better time.

Egan nodded his head firmly to himself, following the wake of curious stares as one of the strangers stormed away from the castle.

"Daniel Jackson!"

Daniel turned, hearing his voice, and watched as Egan approach him cautiously.

"Good day, Egan," Daniel said, inclining his head slightly, his tone cold. He hadn’t forgotten his manners, addressing Egan appropriately, but he was hoping Egan would get the message from the tone of his voice. Apparently, things were a little different here.

"Daniel Jackson, I wish to speak with you," Egan said, stepping close, his voice low so it wouldn’t carry across the square.

"Look, Egan, I’m not really in the mood for a chat," Daniel said, turning his back to Egan.

"I know you do not look fondly on this people at this time, but it will pass."

Daniel turned quickly, his eyes dark and brooding. "That’s probably putting it mildly. Somehow I doubt that these feelings will pass. Now, if I may bid you good day," Daniel said, once again turning to walk away.

"Lady Morgana does not speak for all of us," Egan said, his voice low and quiet, but carrying to Daniel’s ears, causing him to stop, to listen. "There are things…you should know."

"Things?" Daniel asked, stepping back to face Egan, his eyes narrowed. "What things?"

"There is more to our simple existence than what meets the eye, Daniel Jackson," Egan said cryptically.

"Apparently," Daniel said his sarcasm thick.

Egan took a deep breath. Daniel waited patiently for him to continue. He was curious to see what Egan had to say in his defense. "Daniel, some of us are not who we seem to be," Egan started, but was cut off when a young boy ran to his side.

"Master Egan," the boy started without preamble. "Lord Eavan wishes to know if you intend on joining the search parties this night."

Egan looked down at the youngster kindly, a flicker of emotion passing over his face. "No, I will not be joining the search parties. I must attend Lord Kentigern shortly."

"Thank you, Master," the boy said, curtseying as best he could, first to Egan, then to Daniel. "I shall tell Lord Eavan. Good day, Master, my Lord."

Egan took a moment before he turned back to Daniel. "We are a proud people and our ways may be strange to you, but please believe me when I say that many of us do not condone the actions you witnessed this day. Good day, Daniel. Good day."

With that comment, Egan turned on his heel, heading back to the castle. Daniel watched him go, awash in emotion. He trusted Egan. He spoke from his heart, Daniel could tell.

There were others, however, whom he did not trust. Lady Morgana was one of them.

After standing alone for a few minutes, collecting his thoughts, Daniel also headed back into the castle, absently watching the search parties gear up. Daniel was sure that they wouldn’t be able to find much in the dark. Even though they had torches, their prey had most likely gone to ground. Morning would bring light and a better opportunity to find whomever it was for whom they searched.

By tomorrow afternoon, Daniel planned to be back in the SGC. Hopefully by then, he’d be able to forget this planet ever existed.

"Sam, let him go," Paul said, stopping Sam Carter from walking through the door after Daniel.

"He’s obviously upset, thanks in no little part to you," Sam said, turning around, her voice cruel.

"Trust me, he’ll be fine. He just needs to get some air, to let it work itself out," Paul said, watching Carter pace around the room, running her hand through her blonde hair.

"Yeah, and things have worked themselves out just swimmingly, haven’t they?" Carter said, snorting in disbelief.

"Major Carter," Kovachek said as he stood, his hands clasped behind his back. "The treaty will be completed tonight and these people will become our allies. But, I suspect that that is not what is bothering you."

Sam Carter glanced up suddenly, her eyes wide. "Nothing’s bothering me, Major. I’m just a little high-strung after that incident downstairs. If you’ll excuse me, I plan to wash up and change for dinner. I suggest you do the same." A swish of fabric and the closing bedroom door effectively ended the conversation.

Paul looked at Stan Kovachek and offered a shrug.

"Well," Paul said with a half-smile, "apparently, we’re not too popular tonight."

"So, I’ve noticed," Kovachek said, stepping lightly to his bedroom door. "I’m going to pull together the rest of the papers I’m going to need for tonight. You?"

"I think I’m going to sit here, put my feet up, and relax," Paul said. "It’ll be my first ‘vacation’ in months."

"Sounds exotic," Kovachek said, smiling broadly.

Paul returned the grin in turn, as he dropped down to rest in one of the armchairs. "Oh, it is. Don’t kid yourself. Who else could say that they vacationed in a castle in a working medieval village on the other side of the universe?"

By the time Daniel returned to the room, Paul Davis was snoring quietly in front of the fireplace and Stan Kovachek had reams of paper spread across all the flat surfaces in the room. Daniel was actually surprised to find no sheets of paper on Paul himself.

"Hey," Daniel said, lifting up several sheets to plop down on a chair.

"Hey, Daniel," Stan said absently, sorting through some of the papers, making notations on others.

"Where’s Sam?"

"Huh?" Stan looked up, his eyes finally focusing on Daniel. "Oh, Sam? Napping, I think. You can check if you want." Stan turned back to his paperwork.

"Stan, do you need some help with all this?" Daniel asked, gesturing around the room.

"Uh, no. Got everything under control."

"Really? Sure doesn’t look like it."

"Oh, but he does. Can’t you tell?" came Paul Davis’ sleepy reply. "I tried to help him before, but he wouldn’t let me."

"Hey, Paul. Sorry to wake you," Daniel said quietly as Paul sit up straighter in his chair.

"That’s okay, Daniel. I really should apologize about before," Paul started to say, but Daniel cut him off with a wave of his hand.

"No, Paul. It was my fault. I overreacted. You were right. It just took me a little while to figure it out," Daniel said, smiling gently. "We okay?"

"Yeah," Paul said. He looked Daniel over carefully, before nodding his head. "Yeah, we’re okay, but I know I’m getting hungry. Any word about dinner?"

"It looked like they were still getting things together down there when I came back up," Daniel said, watching Kovachek prowl around the room looking for a missing sheet of paper. After a beat of silence, Daniel continued speaking, his voice low so as not to carry to the adjoining room. "Is Sam okay?"

"Yeah. She was a little rattled with everything going on. Like you, she needed some time to sort things out for herself."

"There it is," Kovachek’s triumphant exclamation came from somewhere in his bedroom, causing the two men in the sitting room to chuckle.

"Is he always like this?" Daniel asked.

"All the times I’ve traveled with him—which haven’t been many—yes, he is," Paul said, grinning.

The creak of a door signaling Sam Carter’s entrance cut off their chuckling.

"Hey, Sam," Daniel said, getting up to give Sam his seat. "You okay?"

"Yeah," she said absently, rubbing a hand across her face. Her hair was a little rumpled from sleep. She looked up at Daniel a moment later, concern in her eyes. "Are you? You kind of stormed out of here before. I should have gone after you, but the guys said you’d be all right. Are you?"

"Yes, I’m fine, Sam. Like I said, I just needed to get a little air," Daniel smiled at her, pointing to her hair. "Are you going to fix that before we go to dinner or do I have to stare at that all night?"

"What?" Sam asked, her hands immediately going to her head. She leaped up out of the chair and headed directly into the bathroom. "Oh, God, will you look at that," she exclaimed a few seconds later. When she emerged from the bathroom several minutes later, most of her hair was damp. It looked as if she had run wet fingers through her hair, trying to get it in some semblance of order.

"Better?"

"Yes, much," Daniel said, a grin on his face.

A knock sounded throughout the room. "Thanks, Daniel," Sam said, but moved quickly to the door. Kovachek poked his head out of his room, stacks of paper in his hands.

When Sam opened the door, Nerys stood before them, her hand raised to knock once again.

"Nerys," Sam said, "please come inside."

"My lady, my lords," Nerys said, bowing to them in turn. "I came to inform you that dinner will be served in the Great Hall."

"Dinner? Already?" Sam said, her hand self-consciously going to feel her damp hair.

"Yes, my lady. Lord Kentigern wishes to have time this evening to complete the alliance."

"Okay. We’ll be down in a few minutes. Will that be sufficient?" Sam asked. Daniel followed her glance around the room. The suite itself looked like a scene from a bad disaster movie. Daniel was sure that Kovachek would need more than a few minutes to sort through all this.

"Very well, my lady. Lord Kentigern awaits you."

Daniel watched as Sam turned sharply back to Nerys. "Lord Kentigern awaits us? How about Lady Morgana?"

"No, my lady. She has other duties this night," Nerys said, bowing her head and closing the door.

"Other duties?" Daniel echoed his tone incredulous.

"That’s what the lady said," Sam said, stepping to the center of the room, avoiding what paper she could. "Stan, will you be okay with all this?" Sam asked, gesturing to the items littered about the room.

"Yes, Major. It’ll only take me a minute or so to put this together, otherwise I’m ready." Stan reported and bent down to pick up some of the loose sheets.

"Give me a minute, Sam, and I’ll be ready," Paul said, moving quickly into the bathroom to freshen up.

"Daniel, how are you doing?" Sam asked, her tone quiet and full of concern.

"I’m okay. I can be ready in a few minutes. You should go and get yourself together," Daniel said, indicating her wrinkled BDUs.

"Yeah, you too," Sam said, as she smiled and turned go into her room.

A few minutes later found Sam, Paul, and Daniel waiting as Stan raced around the room gathering the final pieces to his paperwork puzzle.

"Sorry about this," Stan said, stacking the last few pages on the pile.

"That’s okay," Sam said, her hand on the doorknob. "We ready?" Everyone answered with a nod and followed Sam through the door.

Dinner was a quiet affair. Daniel was happy to see that the room had been rearranged so they wouldn’t have to stare at the spot where Turlough had stood only a few hours prior. The extra chairs had also been taken away. Apparently, the remainder of the negotiations would be carried out without an audience.

In an effort to lighten the dark mood that had settled on the group, Lord Kentigern related many stories of his childhood, of his growing up in the village. It was hard for Daniel to imagine the stoic man before them participating in the activities—some of them fantastic—which he was describing.

Servants hovered, replenishing the bowls of food on the table, and refilling the glasses of wine and ale. They all ate heartily of the food offered—roasted venison and various cheeses and a rough porridge. It wasn’t the food of feasts, but it was filling and pleasing to the palate.

When they had eaten their fill, Lord Kentigern gestured for the table to be cleared and, only a few moments later, they got down to the business of the treaty.

"I know you all must have reservations about this after what you witnessed this afternoon," Lord Kentigern began, his expression earnest. "I would, if our places had been reversed. Egan has spent much time with you and I trust his judgement implicitly. He feels that I should do whatever is necessary to reassure you, to convince you, to finish what we have started. "

"Lord Kentigern, I would be lying if I told you that the incident you speak of did not disturb us greatly," Daniel said, speaking slowly, choosing his words carefully. "But, the actions of a few—or one—cannot be held against the whole. We believe that this alliance would be beneficial for both of our peoples and we would also like to see this through to the end," he said, glancing at his companions who were nodding their heads in agreement.

"Daniel Jackson speaks for all of us on this matter, Lord Kentigern," Kovachek said, flashing Daniel a small smile of appreciation. "We are fully prepared to complete the treaty this evening and return to our world tomorrow to present it to our own legislative body."

"I am pleased," Lord Kentigern said, smiling gratefully. "I believe there were only a few other points we needed to finalize," he said, but was cut off when a knock sounded at the door.

Anger crossed Lord Kentigern’s features when the door opened to reveal a tall, lanky man, dressed in dark breeches and a forest green cloak. "Please, pardon the interruption, my Lord," the man said, bowing deeply. "I know you asked not to be disturbed, but we needed you inform you that the search parties are prepared to depart."

"Thank you, Eavan, for your report," Kentigern said, stiffly. "Please tell Nerys that we are not to be disturbed again this night."

"Yes, my Lord. Thank you, my Lord." Eavan bowed deeply again and quietly closed the door leaving the room to fall into an uncomfortable silence.

Daniel looked from face to face, uncertain where to begin—wondering if he should say or do anything. A few moments later, Lord Kentigern cleared his throat and looked up with an apologetic smile. "Please pardon the interruption. Where were we?"

"No, we understand you have other duties to perform," Kovachek said, shuffling some of the papers before him. "I believe we were speaking about some of the details of the research station we’d like to establish."

The talks went on for some time, enumerating the amount of equipment and people that would be allowed at the site—while also permitting the use of the site as a remote outpost for the SGC in the case of hostilities on Earth.

Lord Kentigern signed the bottom of the document Stan Kovachek had drawn up earlier—after Stan added the other points they had spoken about tonight—with a flourish and a smile. Kentigern stood and took Stan into a huge bear hug—shocking nearly everyone at the table.

"My brothers, let us drink to our alliance," Kentigern said, stepping over to the sideboard where pitchers of ale and wine sat alongside several empty goblets.

Accepting a glass from Kentigern, Daniel looked at Sam with a self-conscious smile. They had completed the alliance. They should be happy, they should be celebrating, but as they lifted their glasses to toast the beginning of their alliance, Daniel felt none of those emotions. Instead, a deep sense of foreboding fell over him. He put on a bright smile, hoping they couldn’t see the fear and anxiety in his eyes, knowing that the smile didn’t reach his eyes.

There was something wrong. He could feel it, but it was just out of reach. A shiver ran down his back. Something was very wrong. Very wrong, indeed.

Jack had been on the move for some time before he finally spotted the Stargate through the foliage.

Morning hadn’t proved to be kind to him. He woke up to the steady splatter of rain on his face. Great, he thought, just great. I arrive on this planet in the rain and I leave in the rain.

After his breakfast of a single leaf, Jack moved out, appreciating Egan’s gift even more the second day—especially after spending a night on the hard, cold ground. He was tired, exhausted even, and sleeping outside with no equipment was always difficult.

His decision to stay off the main path had proved to be even more problematic once the rain came, making the ground slick and muddy. Over the course of the morning, he’d slipped and fallen several times, managing to get himself covered in a nice coating of mud. Helps me to blend in, Jack thought, smiling to himself. His knee was bothering him, a result of a number of factors—the weather was damp and cold and he had twisted it earlier, trying to stop himself from falling for the fifth time. Instead, he managed to wrench it nicely.

From his vantage point near the ruins, there was no one around the gate, no guards waiting, no nothing. Jack glanced over his shoulder. He had the distinct impression that he was being watched, but there was no one to be seen.

Jack decided it would be in his best interests to check out the neighborhood first, before walking out into the open. He didn’t want to give anyone an easy target.

Traveling quietly, Jack made a wide circuit of the area, looking for signs of a possible ambush.

The fog hadn’t settled in yet, for which Jack was grateful. The forest was very still with only the light tapping of raindrops on the leaves above. It was peaceful, almost too serene for his liking. The forest—the planet itself even—was waiting for something. It was as if it was holding its breath—just as he was.

Sitting back on his heels on the edge of the clearing, Jack stared at the DHD, his ticket off the planet. The area looked clear, as best as he could determine. The DHD looked like it was all in one piece. So, what was he waiting for?

He shook his head and launched himself up, heading directly to the DHD.

Overhead, a lone black raven cried out several times, its cry echoing throughout the valley. Jack looked up, focused on the circling bird overhead. He quickly doubled his pace, limping as fast as he could to the DHD. Something was going to happen and he didn’t want to be here when it did.

He reached for the first glyph, surprised when his hand prickled. Not only did it feel like he’d just gotten a mild electric shock, but it felt like the DHD was covered in something thick. Great, he thought, watch the DHD blow up because of a short circuit or something. He pulled his hand back quickly, looking at the DHD carefully. When it didn’t blow up, he tried the second glyph and then the third.

Jack frowned deeply. There was something different about this DHD. Something strange, but it seemed to be working.

After he entered the third glyph, he started to hear sounds behind him. Someone was coming. Glancing back, he saw the first signs of guards—some coming up the main path, others apparently following his trail. O’Neill quickly entered the fourth and fifth glyphs, keeping an eye on their approach.

It would be close.

A large black raven circled over his head in a tightening pattern.

The sixth glyph locked in and he pressed the seventh.

He slapped the dome on the center of the DHD with his hand and the initial plume of the wormhole rushed out, settling down into its usual blue and white surface.

Jack ran.

Over the rocks and stones, he ran.

Shouts and cries from behind him urged him forward toward the gate and the open vortex.

The raven landed before him on the top step of the gate platform and the unthinkable happened.

He stopped.

Once the raven touched down, the air before him started to shimmer and shift, like heat rising off the pavement in the summer.

From the middle of the tempest, a figure emerged. Jack backed away, his eyes wide in fear. He turned to run, but several guards had come up behind him, effectively cutting off his escape route.

Turning back, he watched as Lady Morgana stepped down off the last step onto the rocky ground.

He was a dead man.

"Hold him and bring him to the edge of the forest. There is no need for us to stand as a spectacle to all," she said, gesturing to Eavan and two other men. They quickly complied, wrestling with O’Neill as he tried to fight, to somehow get away from his captors. They dragged him to the edge of the forest, to the middle of the stone ruins, throwing him to the ground to kneel at her feet.

With a strong, muscular man on either side of him, holding his arms, holding him in place, he looked up, determined to meet her eyes. He wanted to—needed to—show her that she had not broken him. He needed to show her that he was strong, even stronger than she believed possible.

Her green eyes were cold and unfeeling as they gazed upon him.

"Eavan, do you have the device I requested?"

"Yes, my lady," Eavan said, stepping forward as he pulled a small metallic object from his pouch. It was smaller than the Goa’uld memory devices Jack remembered from his latest encounter with Hathor, but looked very similar in appearance.

The gate behind him disengaged with its usual snap-hiss, sealing his fate.

"Thank you, Eavan," Lady Morgana said, smiling at her obedient servant before she turned her attention to the kneeling man before her.

"O’Neill, my beloved, you have displeased me. You thought you would be able to get away from me? You thought you would be able to leave my service? You are dreadfully mistaken. I have many ways to gain your cooperation, but wished I did not have to go to such extreme means." Lady Morgana paused, her eyes ravaging his body as he knelt before her, restrained and submissive.

"This device will ensure your complete cooperation. It is very simple. It rewards appropriate behavior and inflicts punishment when needed. You will wear it for as long as you live. You will never see your friends or family again. You will never return home. You are mine for all eternity."

"Yeah, well if you haven’t already noticed, there’s quite a bit of wear and tear on this body. Eternity won’t be that long," Jack said, trying his best to put up a strong front. She did have a sarcophagus and access to Goa'uld technology. What was going to stop her from keeping him alive for as long as she wanted?

"It is no matter, my love. Once this is in, you shall see that what I speak of is true. Hold him securely. He will fight it," Morgana said, leaning down to grab his face in her hands.

Jack fought her, trying to move, to escape, but to no avail. He was still weak and they were much stronger than he was—even on a good day. Someone grabbed his head from behind, steadying it, while Morgana placed the cool metal disc on the side of his temple. As soon as it touched his flesh, it dug in, disappearing beneath the surface of his skin, burying itself deep.

O’Neill screamed as the white-hot pain shot through his skull.

Through the pain, he could hear Morgana speaking. He tried to concentrate on her words, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t escape the pain. He couldn’t escape her.

He had nowhere to go.

Despair and hopelessness followed him down as he drowned in the welcoming blackness of unconsciousness.

She had won.