![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
gayalondiel_bakFandom: Stargate SG-1/Merlin
Title: Quondam: Futurus (1/?)
Character/Pairing:(future chapters) Arthur/Merlin, Arthur/Daniel, A/D/M
Length: c.1600 words, WIP
Genre: Slash, crossover
Rating: R (not yet though)
Spoilers: SG-1 through season ten, Merlin through season three, mild.
Warnings: Nothing really yet.
Disclaimer: All Stargate characters and situations are the property of MGM. The Merlin TV series uses mythical characters in an interpretation which is the property of Shine Productions. No ownership is implied or inferred. This is done for love only.
Summary: Daniel and Cam find that fussing with things from the Glastonbury archive still isn’t a good idea. But wherever they have found themselves, Daniel finds it familiar. Almost as though he’s been there before.
Master Fanfic List
AN: I haven’t written SG-1 for ages, and Merlin never. But I’ve recently been rewatching the Arthurian arc in SG1 seasons nine and ten and this idea just planted itself. I promised![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
sally_maria I’d give it a go, so here it is. Hope it works.
"You know how I hate asking this question."
"Then don't ask it."
"But if I don't..."
"Look. You know what you're going to say, I know what you're going to say. It' s pointless saying it."
"Okay."
"Fine."
“It’s unnecessary.”
“Absolutely.”
"It just feels... wrong. Not saying it."
"Go on then. If you must."
"Jackson?"
"Cam?"
"Where the hell are we?"
"...No idea."
“Well that's not much good to me, is it.?"
"You asked."
"Thanks. My flashlight isn't working."
“No, neither is mine. I've got my lighter, though. One second... there. Oh."
"Jackson?"
"Cam?"
"I think I preferred it when I didn't know where we were."
"Yeah... me too."
The two men looked around the cold, damp room, the shadows chasing one another as Daniel moved the flame in his hand. Stone was the only word they could really use to describe it: stone walls, stone columns, a chilly stone floor and several raised daises of stone bearing ornately carved boxes on which stone figures reclined. Cameron closed his eyes briefly.
"It's a tomb. We're in a tomb."
"Yep," Daniel replied simply. Cameron gave him a hard look.
"Why are you bothered? You're an archaeologist, you used to look for tombs for a living."
"Yes, but the thing about digging up tombs is that you don't tend to be trapped in them. That door over there looks quite solid."
"Ah." Cameron holstered his firearm. "Let' s check that out, shall we?"
A few minutes of investigation later, they reached the conclusion that the door, while not permanently sealed, would take some serious work to break down. Daniel at least had managed to locate a couple of medieval style torches on the wall so that they were no longer reliant on his lighter and could take a better look around.
"I don't see anything else," he said, slightly defeated.
"What were you expecting?" asked Cameron.
"I don't know. A hologram, a depiction of Merlin or Morgan Le Fay or maybe another of the Ancients. Or in the worst case, finding ourselves back in the Ori galaxy about to be burned to death, I suppose. But there’s just nothing here, except burial monuments."
"I'll pass on that last one, if you don't mind." Cameron grimaced at him and turned his attention back to the door.
"Well, so will I," replied Daniel. "But how many times have we accidentally activated something from the Glastonbury archive and not found something useful, even if we couldn't use it immediately, on the other side? What's the point of sending us here if there's nothing but a sealed room?". Nevertheless, there was something he couldn’t put his finger on, that seemed odd. Different. Somehow... familiar.
"It's not sealed," replied Cameron. "It's just got a very heavy, very bolted door. I wish Teal'c was here. Alright, new rule: any time anyone fusses around with something from the Glastonbury archive they do so with the whole team, that's us, SG-1, no other teams, and full off-world gear on."
"We have our off-world gear," Daniel pointed out. "It isn't working, mostly, but we have it."
"That wasn't planning, though, was it? We've only got that because you got so obsessed with that little Ancient Playstation thing that you went back after gearing up for one more look and I had to come fetch you!"
"Yes, and we're only here because you said "What’s that thing?" and poked the Ancient device randomly without even asking me if I knew what it did yet."
“You knew this was going to happen?”
“No, of course not!”
Cameron sighed. "Whatever. Help me with this door."
"In a moment." Daniel moved closer to one of the tombs and brushed a hand over the stone. "I recognise this writing."
Cameron glanced over at him. "Ancient?"
"No..." Daniel held the torch closer and peered at the engraving. "It looks like an Old English dialect of some kind. It's not like anything we've seen off-world before."
"You think we're on the planet of Beowulf and Grendel?"
"I thought you slept through that movie."
"How could I with you complaining about the accuracy every five seconds?"
Daniel chuckled. "Anyway, yes, that sort of tradition, possibly a bit later. But I'm not sure we've landed on another planet. We've never really seen this, all the English speaking planets we've been to seem to have been influenced by the Asgard or the Goa'uld for their linguistic development to somehow mirror ours. It's fascinating, actually, and I'm hoping to get a chance to talk to Thor about it, because I have a theory..."
"Jackson!"
"Right, yes, fine. We've never seen language this archaic on another world, but we know full well that at least some of the Ancients had access to time travel technology."
Cameron turned around fully and stared at him. "You think we've been sent back in time?"
"Maybe. It's hard to tell without some more evidence."
"Like seeing something that isn't the inside of a tomb?"
"Yeah, that would do."
There was a sudden noise from outside the door, voices and footsteps and the clank of heavy metal... like keys.
"I think you're about to get your wish," commented Cameron . They moved back towards the far dais, Cameron hefting his handgun once more and Daniel raising the torch high to light the doorway. The oak door swung open to reveal half a dozen men wearing mail augmented with red livery, each brandishing a sword in their general direction. The front one said something in a commanding voice. Cameron cocked his head; the sounds were familiar, but he couldn't make them out to make any sense. "Jackson? Did you get any of that?"
"Bits and pieces," replied Daniel. “It does sound like it might be a dialect that’s an ancestor of modern English. They're not exactly spoken any more, but it's not as bad as learning to sound out Ancient Egyptian, so given time..." The man spoke again, curtly, and gestured to one side with his sword.
"I think he wants us to go with him," Daniel announced.
"Got that, thanks." replied Cameron.
They followed the guards out of the room and into a long, torch lit corridor, and after several turns came to a spiral staircase. Cameron muttered under his breath as they went, pointing out this element and that feature that he remembered as having been shown to him, as a child on holiday in England being dragged around the ruins of ancient castles. Daniel had to admit that the resemblance was more or less uncanny. This was no ruin, though, but a populated structure with people, lights and furnishings. Soon they were in a living area where the walls were hung with red and gold banners, guards stood at duty stations by doors and people who had the look of vaguely medieval servants scuttled past them as they went about their work, casting them odd looks.
He felt somehow as though he had seen them before, and it was as though his own feet were leading him, rather than the guard. Cameron had noticed that something was up long before they reached their destination, and when they halted and Daniel said "This is the Great Hall" because he knew that was what it was, although he couldn't have told Cam how he knew, the other man merely gave him an odd, assessing look. The guard announced them, and they were marched in.
It was not uncommon for SG-1 to be picked up by guards or soldiers and led before the king, chieftain or ruling council of the planets they visited. But something here was different. Here there was a throne, carved of wood, mighty and ornate, around which a handful of men in mail and red and gold robes were crowded. Knights, Daniel's mind told him, and it seemed at once obvious and new information. An elderly man stood with them too in blue robes that made Daniel think of home and comfort, although the only thing he could equate them to were the clothes he had favoured on Vis Uban before he knew himself. The old man’s hair was white to his shoulders, and he peered down his long nose at them with curiosity rather than hostility.
And then he saw the man on the throne, well-build, toned and muscular, dressed as the knights but with the addition of a small circlet atop his short blondish hair. The man looked up and caught his eye with a slightly haughty expression, and in a rush of memory and feeling it was all Daniel could do not to drop to his knees right there in the hall.
Cameron was looking at him again, slightly impatient this time, waiting for his to begin his usual greeting speech, and attempt to get past however many centuries of English linguistic development to communicate with their captors and potential allies. But there was only one thing, one word that he could say. A word he had never thought to say again, a word he hadn't known he had been aching for so long to have the chance to whisper once more.
"Arthur."
Title: Quondam: Futurus (1/?)
Character/Pairing:(future chapters) Arthur/Merlin, Arthur/Daniel, A/D/M
Length: c.1600 words, WIP
Genre: Slash, crossover
Rating: R (not yet though)
Spoilers: SG-1 through season ten, Merlin through season three, mild.
Warnings: Nothing really yet.
Disclaimer: All Stargate characters and situations are the property of MGM. The Merlin TV series uses mythical characters in an interpretation which is the property of Shine Productions. No ownership is implied or inferred. This is done for love only.
Summary: Daniel and Cam find that fussing with things from the Glastonbury archive still isn’t a good idea. But wherever they have found themselves, Daniel finds it familiar. Almost as though he’s been there before.
Master Fanfic List
AN: I haven’t written SG-1 for ages, and Merlin never. But I’ve recently been rewatching the Arthurian arc in SG1 seasons nine and ten and this idea just planted itself. I promised
sally_maria I’d give it a go, so here it is. Hope it works."You know how I hate asking this question."
"Then don't ask it."
"But if I don't..."
"Look. You know what you're going to say, I know what you're going to say. It' s pointless saying it."
"Okay."
"Fine."
“It’s unnecessary.”
“Absolutely.”
"It just feels... wrong. Not saying it."
"Go on then. If you must."
"Jackson?"
"Cam?"
"Where the hell are we?"
"...No idea."
“Well that's not much good to me, is it.?"
"You asked."
"Thanks. My flashlight isn't working."
“No, neither is mine. I've got my lighter, though. One second... there. Oh."
"Jackson?"
"Cam?"
"I think I preferred it when I didn't know where we were."
"Yeah... me too."
The two men looked around the cold, damp room, the shadows chasing one another as Daniel moved the flame in his hand. Stone was the only word they could really use to describe it: stone walls, stone columns, a chilly stone floor and several raised daises of stone bearing ornately carved boxes on which stone figures reclined. Cameron closed his eyes briefly.
"It's a tomb. We're in a tomb."
"Yep," Daniel replied simply. Cameron gave him a hard look.
"Why are you bothered? You're an archaeologist, you used to look for tombs for a living."
"Yes, but the thing about digging up tombs is that you don't tend to be trapped in them. That door over there looks quite solid."
"Ah." Cameron holstered his firearm. "Let' s check that out, shall we?"
A few minutes of investigation later, they reached the conclusion that the door, while not permanently sealed, would take some serious work to break down. Daniel at least had managed to locate a couple of medieval style torches on the wall so that they were no longer reliant on his lighter and could take a better look around.
"I don't see anything else," he said, slightly defeated.
"What were you expecting?" asked Cameron.
"I don't know. A hologram, a depiction of Merlin or Morgan Le Fay or maybe another of the Ancients. Or in the worst case, finding ourselves back in the Ori galaxy about to be burned to death, I suppose. But there’s just nothing here, except burial monuments."
"I'll pass on that last one, if you don't mind." Cameron grimaced at him and turned his attention back to the door.
"Well, so will I," replied Daniel. "But how many times have we accidentally activated something from the Glastonbury archive and not found something useful, even if we couldn't use it immediately, on the other side? What's the point of sending us here if there's nothing but a sealed room?". Nevertheless, there was something he couldn’t put his finger on, that seemed odd. Different. Somehow... familiar.
"It's not sealed," replied Cameron. "It's just got a very heavy, very bolted door. I wish Teal'c was here. Alright, new rule: any time anyone fusses around with something from the Glastonbury archive they do so with the whole team, that's us, SG-1, no other teams, and full off-world gear on."
"We have our off-world gear," Daniel pointed out. "It isn't working, mostly, but we have it."
"That wasn't planning, though, was it? We've only got that because you got so obsessed with that little Ancient Playstation thing that you went back after gearing up for one more look and I had to come fetch you!"
"Yes, and we're only here because you said "What’s that thing?" and poked the Ancient device randomly without even asking me if I knew what it did yet."
“You knew this was going to happen?”
“No, of course not!”
Cameron sighed. "Whatever. Help me with this door."
"In a moment." Daniel moved closer to one of the tombs and brushed a hand over the stone. "I recognise this writing."
Cameron glanced over at him. "Ancient?"
"No..." Daniel held the torch closer and peered at the engraving. "It looks like an Old English dialect of some kind. It's not like anything we've seen off-world before."
"You think we're on the planet of Beowulf and Grendel?"
"I thought you slept through that movie."
"How could I with you complaining about the accuracy every five seconds?"
Daniel chuckled. "Anyway, yes, that sort of tradition, possibly a bit later. But I'm not sure we've landed on another planet. We've never really seen this, all the English speaking planets we've been to seem to have been influenced by the Asgard or the Goa'uld for their linguistic development to somehow mirror ours. It's fascinating, actually, and I'm hoping to get a chance to talk to Thor about it, because I have a theory..."
"Jackson!"
"Right, yes, fine. We've never seen language this archaic on another world, but we know full well that at least some of the Ancients had access to time travel technology."
Cameron turned around fully and stared at him. "You think we've been sent back in time?"
"Maybe. It's hard to tell without some more evidence."
"Like seeing something that isn't the inside of a tomb?"
"Yeah, that would do."
There was a sudden noise from outside the door, voices and footsteps and the clank of heavy metal... like keys.
"I think you're about to get your wish," commented Cameron . They moved back towards the far dais, Cameron hefting his handgun once more and Daniel raising the torch high to light the doorway. The oak door swung open to reveal half a dozen men wearing mail augmented with red livery, each brandishing a sword in their general direction. The front one said something in a commanding voice. Cameron cocked his head; the sounds were familiar, but he couldn't make them out to make any sense. "Jackson? Did you get any of that?"
"Bits and pieces," replied Daniel. “It does sound like it might be a dialect that’s an ancestor of modern English. They're not exactly spoken any more, but it's not as bad as learning to sound out Ancient Egyptian, so given time..." The man spoke again, curtly, and gestured to one side with his sword.
"I think he wants us to go with him," Daniel announced.
"Got that, thanks." replied Cameron.
They followed the guards out of the room and into a long, torch lit corridor, and after several turns came to a spiral staircase. Cameron muttered under his breath as they went, pointing out this element and that feature that he remembered as having been shown to him, as a child on holiday in England being dragged around the ruins of ancient castles. Daniel had to admit that the resemblance was more or less uncanny. This was no ruin, though, but a populated structure with people, lights and furnishings. Soon they were in a living area where the walls were hung with red and gold banners, guards stood at duty stations by doors and people who had the look of vaguely medieval servants scuttled past them as they went about their work, casting them odd looks.
He felt somehow as though he had seen them before, and it was as though his own feet were leading him, rather than the guard. Cameron had noticed that something was up long before they reached their destination, and when they halted and Daniel said "This is the Great Hall" because he knew that was what it was, although he couldn't have told Cam how he knew, the other man merely gave him an odd, assessing look. The guard announced them, and they were marched in.
It was not uncommon for SG-1 to be picked up by guards or soldiers and led before the king, chieftain or ruling council of the planets they visited. But something here was different. Here there was a throne, carved of wood, mighty and ornate, around which a handful of men in mail and red and gold robes were crowded. Knights, Daniel's mind told him, and it seemed at once obvious and new information. An elderly man stood with them too in blue robes that made Daniel think of home and comfort, although the only thing he could equate them to were the clothes he had favoured on Vis Uban before he knew himself. The old man’s hair was white to his shoulders, and he peered down his long nose at them with curiosity rather than hostility.
And then he saw the man on the throne, well-build, toned and muscular, dressed as the knights but with the addition of a small circlet atop his short blondish hair. The man looked up and caught his eye with a slightly haughty expression, and in a rush of memory and feeling it was all Daniel could do not to drop to his knees right there in the hall.
Cameron was looking at him again, slightly impatient this time, waiting for his to begin his usual greeting speech, and attempt to get past however many centuries of English linguistic development to communicate with their captors and potential allies. But there was only one thing, one word that he could say. A word he had never thought to say again, a word he hadn't known he had been aching for so long to have the chance to whisper once more.
"Arthur."
