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After he had finished teaching his afternoon class, John bathed, pulled out his hated Court Whites and put them on. He had just settled his dress sword and knives into place, when there came a knock on his door. "Now what?" he grumbled, then went to open it.
Ronon filled the doorway, almost unrecognizable in his formal Court Whites rather than his usual dark gray leathers. "Heard you were going to Court."
John tilted an eyebrow at him as he leaned against the doorjamb. "I don't need a guard, Ronon. I know you hate Court even more than I do."
Ronon smirked. "Kinda doubt that. And I think it's fun to go to Court. I got a bet going with Vala on how many of the courtiers I can scare just by showing up."
John blinked. "And how the hells are you going to be able to determine that?"
"Stationed Chuck in the hall to count," Ronon replied matter of factly.
Despite himself, John burst out in laughter. Chuck had a small bit of Empathy, and if anybody could give a fair count on this particular bet, it would be him. "Never change, Ronon," he gasped out once he finally got himself back under control.
Ronon raised one eyebrow at him. "It was Vala's idea."
John choked on laughter again, and Ronon had to reach out and give him a solid thump on the back. Gasping, John wiped the tears of laughter from his eyes. "Haven. I hate when you do that."
"What? Make you laugh?" Ronon queried as he hauled John by the arm out of his room. "Somebody's got to. Otherwise, knowing you, you might forget how."
"Oh, fuck you," John said amiably, making a rude gesture at him and starting to head down the hall.
Ronon snorted and followed after him, grinning. "No thanks. You're cute, but you're not my type."
"Thanks for reminding me," John replied sarcastically as they rounded a corner. "I would have forgotten otherwise."
Ronon bumped his shoulder into John's in mute apology and they walked the rest of the way in companionable silence. Once at the doorway that opened up onto the main hall, John impatiently waved off the doorkeeper, saying, "Don't bother with announcing me. I'd rather make a quiet entrance, thanks."
The doorkeeper, silently radiating his disapproval for the lapse in protocol, reluctantly stepped away from the door and stood at attention to the side of it.
John turned his attention to the still closed door and stared at it, his face blank. Ronon grasped John's shoulder and shook it gently. "I've got your back. Remember that."
John tore his eyes away from the door to look up gratefully at Ronon. "Thanks, buddy. I'll do that."
Ronon squeezed John's shoulder again and let go. John licked his lips, opened the door and went in.
Idle eyes turned at the motion in the doorway and a wave of silence spread, immediately followed by a babble of comments as John sauntered in, ironic smirk firmly in place on his face. As he walked through the mass of courtiers, he couldn't help but hear the various snatches of conversation that only lowered slightly in volume as he passed by.
"...can't believe he'd show his face..."
"...you sure that he's shaych?"
"That's what they say, Lena. Celia told me that..."
"...kingkiller..."
A gob of spit landed on his boot. John gave the miscreant a sharp smile while Ronon scowled ferociously from behind him. The man back up nervously and they continued walking.
"...lazy, good for nothing! He broke his father's heart, I tell you..."
"...I heard that he's impotent. How can he be next in line when..."
"...you know? He killed the king so his bard friend could..."
A shrewish looking noblewoman murmured something into her daughter's ear as she curtsied and the young woman simpered obediently at John. He ignored them both, his lips thinning as he walked past them.
"...why they'd have him. Heralds are supposed to uphold the law, not shelter..."
"...not true. I mean look at him! It's more likely he's screwing every woman that'll..."
"...pity how he disappointed his family like that. I don't believe..."
He reached the dais where Elizabeth stood with Teyla and bowed gracefully. "Your Majesty, Queen's Own."
Teyla smiled at him and Elizabeth nodded at him gravely. "Heir Presumptive. I hope your classes went well today?"
"The trainees are doing fine," John replied, holding out a hand for Elizabeth to grasp as she stepped down off the dais. "You and your Companion should come out and see them sometime. The two of you ride well together and would be a good example for our pairs in training."
Elizabeth tilted her head briefly in a listening pose and then smiled. "Grodin is very eager to accept your proposal. If I can find some time to get away, I'll take you up on it." She inclined her head in another nod. "Weapon's Master."
"Your Majesty," Ronon rumbled back in reply, before offering a hand to Teyla.
Teyla smiled, took his hand and stepped down. Elizabeth then turned to John, raised one eyebrow and said, "Shall we head to dinner?"
John nodded and they all made their way through the crowd to the dining hall. Several nobles eyed them warily as they passed by, before following after them.
After John settled Elizabeth in her chair, he flopped into the chair next to her, throwing an arm over the back and smirking at a couple of courtiers that gave him affronted looks. Teyla sat on the other side of Elizabeth and Ronon sat on John's other side.
After the servants came by and served them the first course, Elizabeth leaned in toward him and murmured, "You see now why I asked you to come to Court?"
John sipped from his cup before replying, "Yeah, I guess I do."
"It is getting entirely too blatant and I will not allow them to delude themselves into believing that I'd set you aside as heir because they believe a bunch of lies," Elizabeth said, her eyes flashing in anger.
John set down his cup and looked down at his plate. "Not all of them are lies, Elizabeth."
Her lips thinned as she pushed a bit of meat around her plate with her fork. "When they don't know, or worse, refuse to believe the circumstances driving your actions, they might as well be."
John picked up his fork and traced the tines through a pool of gravy on his plate. "You can't make people see what they don't want to see. They've made up their mind about me. They don't want me to be king, and frankly neither do I. I'm not cut out for it."
Elizabeth laid her hand on his. "I know, John. But until I produce an heir of my body and they are Chosen, you're it."
His eyes slanted over to her and he gave a small sly smile. "Lorne will be happy to provide if you'll let him."
Elizabeth blushed slightly and straightened in her chair. "As soon as I am reasonably able to do so, I'll certainly entertain the thought." A small smile tugged at her lips as she applied herself to eating.
John's smile widened into a smirk and he went back to examining the courtiers surreptitiously through narrowed eyes as he cut the meat on his plate. One or more of those stuck up, oh-so-superior assholes out there was doing their best to poison the populace's support for the Queen for their own nefarious purposes and they had to find them before they brought down disaster on Valdemar.
He felt an elbow to his ribs and turned to look at Ronon who leaned close and murmured, "Bet you I can make that sourpuss Countess Falada leave in a huff during the dancing afterwards," before stuffing a large chunk of meat into his mouth.
John glanced over at the woman in question and a giggle erupted from him which he quickly stifled into an amused snort. The woman was eying Ronon dubiously, as if he were some dangerous animal that had somehow wandered into Court. He quietly replied, "Double if you manage to make her do it while we're still eating dinner, buddy."
"You're on," Ronon said, grinning at him, and his table manners abruptly took a turn for the worse. Much worse.
It wound up being the most amusing Court dinner John had ever been forced to attend, despite everything.