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05 March 2009 @ 03:28 pm
[SGA/Merlin] Pointy Hats and P90s :: PG :: Gen :: 1/1  
Title: Pointy Hats and P90s
Author: chaletian
Fandom: SGA/Merlin
Rating: PG
Spoilers: None
Summary: Camelot is famed throughout the Pegasus galaxy for its mead and the hatred in which its ruler, Uther Pendragon, holds all forms of magic. Would’ve been helpful to know in advance, though, that ‘magic’ to Camelot is ‘flashing an over-developed ATA gene’ to the rest of the galaxy.

They looked at the sword. It was long and shiny and…

“Oh my God, is that blood?” asked Rodney.

“Yeah,” said Ronon.

“Mnrgh,” said Rodney. Ronon hefted the sword and looked down the blade.

“Good sword,” he said. “Good balance.”

“Well, that’s wonderful, Conan, but why don’t we, I don’t know, use the massive advantage of fire power we have, and just blow Sheppard out of there?!”

Ronon shrugged. “Sheppard wouldn’t like it. Lot of civilians around.”

“Yes, well, Sheppard is currently locked away in some medieval dungeon – and why, why are these places always medieval and look like something out of Xena? – so he’s really not in a position to… Oh. Oh. I get it.” He sneered at Ronon. “You just want to fight with a giant sword, don’t you? This is so feudal.”

“Ronon is merely intent upon saving Colonel Sheppard with the least damage to our people or theirs,” said Teyla peaceably, but Rodney wasn’t remotely convinced.

“And the fact that he gets to do that whilst wielding an enormous sword is merely the icing on the cake,” he said petulantly. “I hate these missions. We get seduced in with rumours of ‘Ancient outposts’ and ‘technology beyond compare’ and ‘destroy the Wraith forever’, and then we get here and it’s all blood and violence and Sheppard getting tortured whilst we have to devise cunning and dangerous plans to rescue him.”

“And mead,” put in Ronon.

“…and, in this case, mead,” added Rodney, who had quite enjoyed the mead up until the point Sheppard had apparently accidentally activated half an Ancient defence grid with his mind and the reigning king of this renaissance fair backwater threw him in the dungeon (Rodney assumed it was a dungeon; you only had to look at this place to figure out it was a dungeon) with a stated intention of executing him to death in the morning.

“Camelot is famed for its mead,” said Teyla. “Also for the king’s hatred of magic. I regret that I did not realise their magic was caused by the Ancestors’ gene.”

“Magic!” sneered Rodney, making generous use of sarcastic quote marks. “Idiotic!”

“Idiotic or not,” said Teyla, “Uther is implacable in his opposition to it. There will be no reprieve for Colonel Sheppard unless Ronon is able to defeat Camelot’s champion. We are fortunate we were even given this opportunity; it is an honour not often bestowed.”

“Well, why’d they bestow it this time?” demanded Rodney. “This is some ploy.”

“Ploy?” said Ronon.

“Ploy,” said Rodney, determined. “Or trap. Their champion is probably some over-muscled hulk about eight feet high, with armour made of titanium and a sword the size of Belgium, and he’ll kill Ronon, then they’ll execute Sheppard, and then, let’s face it, they’ll probably go after me. And Teyla,” he added, as a generous afterthought.

“Thank you for including me, Rodney,” said Teyla drily. He flapped a dismissive hand.

“And also—”

“Arthur is their champion,” interrupted Ronon, polishing the blade on his coat.

Rodney looked relieved. “What, the blonde kid?” He punched Ronon in the arm, then backed off quickly and pretended to inspect the contents of his pockets when the taller man looked at him. “Well, that’ll be a nice easy day’s work for you,” he said.

Ronon and Teyla exchanged glances. “Arthur is a noted warrior,” said Teyla. “We would be wise not to underestimate him. And we still do not know why he allowed this challenge. I have never known of such a thing.”


“I have never heard of such a thing!” bellowed Uther Pendragon, glaring at his son and heir. “To allow a- a- a savage otherworlder to challenge you! Their leader is clearly a sorcerer and he shall be executed as such. We should execute his accomplices with him, not give them the honour of battle! I forbid it, Arthur! You shall not fight this Ronon!” He spat out the otherworlder’s name and Arthur resisted the urge to roll his eyes: he retained enough healthy wariness of his lordly father to attempt no such thing.

“Father,” he began calmly, “they are traders and our guests. Their Colonel Sheppard claims he had no idea he was capable of sorcery, and I believe him. They wish to return to their home in peace through the Ring, and send no more sorcerers to Camelot. They have done us no harm.”

His arguments seemed to be having little impact on Uther which came as no great surprise, but Arthur was determined to keep trying; after all, it had taken Merlin quite two hours to get Arthur believing this – and when, precisely, had he, Arthur of Camelot, starting paying attention to what his servant told him, especially when said servant was quite so ludicrously incompetent?

“I will fight Ronon,” he said, steel in his voice. “And if he is victorious, he and his people – including Colonel Sheppard – will depart Camelot.”


“Psst! Psst! Colonel Sheppard!” John Sheppard – sorcerer, apparently – rolled over on the straw that lined the floor of his prison cell, and peered through the gloom to the figure outlined by flickering candlelight. His hand went automatically to the empty holster on his thigh, and he sat up.

“If this is some late night booty call, I’m not really in the mood,” he said flatly. “The threat of imminent execution has that effect on me.”

“I’m here to save you!” came a piercing whisper, and the figure moved so that he was now in the light. It was a boy, barely out of his teens, if that, with dark hair that looked only marginally tamer than John’s own.

“Well,” said John. “That’s always nice to hear.” He levered himself off the floor, and approached the bars of his cell, noting as he did so that the boy swallowed nervously but stood his ground.

“You- you didn’t mean to cast that magic, did you?” he asked.

John raised an eyebrow. “Is that what I did?”

The boy nodded, eyes suddenly ablaze with excitement. “I’ve never seen anything like it! I’ve never been able to…” he broke off, looking guilty, and John narrowed his eyes suspiciously.

“Guess you’re into this sorcery too, huh?” The kid shook his head vigorously but ultimately unconvincingly, and John grinned wryly. “Never mind. I won’t say anything. Us sorcerers stick together, right?”

“My name’s Merlin,” said the boy suddenly. “Your man – Ronon – has challenged Arthur to battle. If he defeats Arthur, you will be allowed to leave.”

John cheered up considerably at this news. “Really? Hey, that’s great. It’s kinda hard to take Ronon down.”

“Well,” said Merlin, “Arthur’s pretty good. With the sword and the mace and the bow and… well, everything, basically. It’s what he does.” He mimed a few thrusts of a sword, dropped his torch, and scrabbled on the ground to pick it up again. “Yeah,” he said, hair slightly more dishevelled.

“Right,” said John.

“And the plan’s sort of dependent on the king not forbidding it,” continued Merlin.

“Uh-huh,” said John.

“Or allowing it and then getting Gaius – he’s the court physician, you know – to drug Arthur to stop him. Or arresting him. Or, assuming Ronon wins, letting you all leave.” He suddenly noticed John’s less than thrilled expression, and smiled dazzlingly. “It’s all going to work out perfectly,” he said.


“This is a cock-eyed plan,” said Arthur, his voice muffled as Merlin pulled the chainmail over his head. “I’m going to beat the otherworlder-”

“Ronon,” put in Merlin.

“-and then Father will have Sheppard executed, and probably the rest of them to boot. Where’s my helmet?” Merlin handed it to him, and he tucked it under his arm.

“Colonel Sheppard seemed confident that Ronon would have a chance,” said Merlin, holding out Arthur’s sword. Arthur just cast him a condescending look, grabbed the sword and, strapping it to his waist, stalked out of the armoury, to the sound of the cheers outside.


“Don’t need it,” said Ronon, as the smith’s daughter held out the hauberk. Rodney’s head snapped up from where he’d been tapping away on his laptop (Reasons Why Rodney McKay Should Not Be Included On Away Missions To Medieval Lands Where There Is Much Citrus And No Computer Networking, Not To Mention Natives With Alarming Levels Of Distrust For Those In Possession Of The ATA Gene).

“What? Are you turning down armour? Are you mentally damaged? Or is this a little quirk to make the whole thing more entertaining for you?”

“Armour’s heavy; slows you down when you’re not used to it,” said Ronon, looking doubtfully at the chainmail he was already wearing over his normal clothes.

“Keep the mail,” advised the girl, offering Ronon the sword again. “You are fighting for your friend’s life.”

“Yeah,” said Ronon, his glance flickering to the castle where Sheppard was being held.

“Fight well,” said Teyla solemnly, as he took sword and shield. They tipped foreheads.

“Yes, yes, yes,” said Rodney. “Don’t die.”

Ronon grinned. “Gonna try not to,” he said, and headed towards the battleground, his team mates following in his wake.

“He’s going to win,” said Rodney, nodding confidently. “I mean, he’s definitely going to win, right?”

“Of course he will win,” said Teyla calmly, and Rodney groaned, covering his face with one hand.

“Oh God, I’m going to die here and I’ll never win a Nobel.”


The crowd was full and knights jostled alongside stallholders, everyone eager to watch Arthur fight the otherworlder whose friend was such a powerful sorcerer. The two men came together at the battleground before the King and the people of Camelot, and barely had they saluted each other than battle began.

It was quick and it was noisy and it was skilled. The otherworlder, it was true, had size and the solidity of maturity on his side, but Arthur was valiant and unmatched with the sword.


The scent of metal was heavy in the air, and for a moment Arthur and Ronon were locked together, swords trembling with the pressure, and Arthur said softly, “I would not see your friend die.” They broke apart, struck and parried.

“Good, cuz it’s not happening,” said Ronon, and brought down his sword again.


“Oh God, I can’t watch!” said Rodney, watching.

“Ronon will win,” said Teyla.

“Yes, fine, against most people, but he’s fighting His Royal Highness Hi I’ve Been Fighting With Swords Since I Was A Foetus. Pardon me for not being quite as sanguine as you!”

Teyla smiled and pointed to the arena. “Rodney. He has won.”

And indeed, Ronon stood over Arthur, sword point at the other man’s throat, and they stayed that way for long moments, the sound of the crowd muted, the sun burning down from the blue, blue sky, until Ronon backed away, stabbing his sword into the ground.

“Bring me Sheppard,” he shouted, “and we will leave this place.”

Uther Pendragon rose slowly to his feet, and flicked a finger at the guards. Behind Ronon, Arthur scrambled to his feet.

“Father,” he said warningly. “The otherworlder defeated me. They will go free.” Father and son gazed at each other, and Uther’s lips tightened.

“Fetch the sorcerer,” he demanded.

Long, tense minutes ensued, until half a dozen guards appeared, John Sheppard between them, hands tied behind his back, two swords levelled at him.

“Sorcerer,” said the king, “you and your people will leave Camelot and you will never return. Be warned: I will not allow such leniency again.”

“Some leniency,” muttered Rodney, bustling forward to join the rest of his team.

“Yeah, well, we’re not dead, so let’s call it a win,” murmured John in reply, wincing as one of the guards pulled at his bonds. “Nice fight, buddy,” he added, nodding at Ronon.

Rodney, heedless of earlier experience, punched Ronon on the arm again. “Knew you’d win,” he said airily, then set off in the direction of the stargate. Teyla glanced expressively at Sheppard and Ronon and hurried after him, and Ronon turned to Arthur.

“No hard feelings?”

Arthur, looking only very slightly put out, held out his hand. “No. Don’t come back, though; I’ll not go so easy on you another time.” They shook hands, and Ronon handed over the sword, then stepped back.

John Sheppard smirked. “Thanks for the hospitality,” he said insincerely. “It was a riot.”

Uther Pendragon’s face darkened. “Leave now!” he thundered, “before I change my mind!”

“Hey, leaving,” said Sheppard, holding out his hands for the weapons the boy Merlin brought up to him. He turned away from the crowd and, under the guise of checking them, whispered, “Hey, kid!”

Merlin looked at him curiously, eyes wide, and Sheppard spoke quickly.

“This… magic… thing. It’s not… well, look, it’s complicated, OK? Just know, if ever anything comes through the star- the Ring, or from the sky, Camelot is protected by shields.”

“I- I don’t understand,” said Merlin. “What shields?”

“Invisible shields,” said Sheppard reluctantly, feeling more like an idiot with every passing minute. “Invisible shields that you can activate with your mind, if you just think about it.” He would have tried to say more, but Arthur stepped forward and grabbed Merlin’s tunic, pulling him back, eyeing Sheppard suspiciously.

“…and that’s why,” finished Sheppard glibly, “clowns are just wrong. So, I’ll not be seeing you.” He sketched a wave, and, Ronon at his heels, followed the path Rodney and Teyla had taken back to the stargate.


“We should send someone undercover, though,” said Rodney pensively. “Maybe set up some kind of trade agreement for the mead.”

“Oh, I don’t think anyone will be going back there,” said Elizabeth decisively. “Not if they’re in the habit of locking our people in prison with a view to executing them, not to mention preferring to settle their disputes with swords.”

“But the technology!” whimpered Rodney. “Have you any idea… I mean, the potential… we couldn’t get a clear picture on whatever it was the Ancients had done there, but the power output was remarkable, and…” he trailed off, sullen, recognising Elizabeth Weir’s expression.

“It’s just a complete waste if no-one can use it,” he finished, but Sheppard smiled.

“Oh, I think they’ll figure it out,” he said, and stole half a muffin off Rodney’s plate, just to be contrary.


“What did the sorcerer say to you?” asked Arthur curiously as Merlin gathered together the dishes on the table.

Merlin shrugged. “I don’t know- I didn’t understand him.”

“Just as well,” said Arthur, stretching widely as he yawned. “I don’t trust otherworlders.”

“Mmm,” said Merlin, but as he left his mind was racing, and that night he dreamt of Camelot, gilded in arcs of blue that spat gold as they were attacked by angry pointed machines.

Tags: , ,
Stevy: Beast Castleankaret on March 5th, 2009 03:53 pm (UTC)
So cute!
Liliaethliliaeth on March 5th, 2009 04:21 pm (UTC)
I love the way this crossover works for both series involved, and great ending.
solar_cat on March 5th, 2009 06:53 pm (UTC)
Now THAT is a crossover!! =DDD
Mab of the Antipodesmab_browne on March 5th, 2009 06:59 pm (UTC)
This was tremendous fun all round. Thank you. :-)
archaeologist_d: Merlinarchaeologist_d on March 5th, 2009 10:41 pm (UTC)
I'm not really up on SGA but I liked that Arthur let Ronan win so that they could escape. Loved that Merlin was told about shields.
Well done.
maisieritamaisierita on March 6th, 2009 12:19 am (UTC)
So glad you wrote this! I've been toying with the idea of an SGA/Merlin xover myself, but I know I'll never get around to it. I'm just thrilled you included Ronon v. Arthur. :D And also that magic is really ATA!

This was adorable. SGA voices were spot on. Only quibble -- I wish it had been longer!! But thank you..
like a glorious car crash in iambic pentameter: ridiculous fangirlingiambickilometer on March 6th, 2009 06:26 am (UTC)
I am so much in favour of this crossover, you have no idea. Of course Camelot is located on a backwater planet somewhere in Pegasus. And of course Ronon would win in a fight with Arthur. :D This was a blast to read.
kinda into that Colin Morgan guy: rodney looks at johnrodneyscat on April 4th, 2009 10:54 pm (UTC)
Sweet! I'm into SGA and Merlin both and I really enjoyed this fic. I especially love how Arthur graciously lets Ronon win for the good cause, Rodney doing his usual selfish talking but you can tell he cares (and his frustration when he has to let all the good mead and technology slip), and the way John sneaks in some good advice for Merlin and how this advice is not lost on Merlin.

Thanks for sharing (I'm here through frogspace's rec list by the way.)
The Optimistic Pessimist: dragontobemeagain on August 7th, 2009 05:49 am (UTC)
Oooohh, I like.
My friend splendidsilence follows everything you write. She saw this and thought I'd love it since I'm a fan of both shows. Merlin is addictive and you crossed them - Yay!
I wish it was longer, but this was a little slice of happy for me. Thank you.
in the woods with the werewolves: SGA HP different galaxyemeraldsword on June 16th, 2010 10:52 pm (UTC)
awww, awesome! I can just see John's doubtful face when faced with Merlin and one of his sure-fire plans. Nice job!

(Oddly enough, I do not have an appropriate icon for this!)
Deanie: weir bluedeaniebtvs on March 13th, 2011 07:17 pm (UTC)
Absolutely brilliant. Your McKay voice is perfect. Great mix of the two shows.