Syndrome - Stockholm Syndrome
Nov. 28th, 2011 03:02 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
rinkhcTitle: Syndrome
Fandom: Stargate Atlantis - AU
Characters/Pairing: Weir/Koyla
Orientation: Het
Rating: PG
Word Count: 582
Notes: for theladymoretheladymore, and while I certainly don’t hate you, you did present me with a most difficult challenge. Thanks to camshaft22 for giving it a read through and convincing me to leave it as is.
Prompts: for HC Bingo Fill: “Stockholm Syndrome”
Her manner and her beauty had impressed him, when he saw her there, in the city.
When he returned home, as he was burning with fever, healing from his wounds, he dreamed of her. He decided he had to have her.
It was a small matter ofthreatening convincing the natives of Galashiam to refuse to deal with male underlings so that she would have to travel there herself to meet with the leaders for the grain her people needed.
Slightly more complicated to arrange the kidnapping and bombing of the entire village, turning it into a radioactive hole in the ground. The scientists had been thrilled to have a target to test their bomb on.
And so, he had her.
~*~
For the first few weeks, Elizabeth believed that they would come for her. She was kept in a cell, given the bare necessities; no demands were made upon her. No one spoke to her. At first, she didn’t even know who had her. But then she figured out that it was the Genii. They let her rage and fume and pound her fists on the walls for a time.
Eventually, she broke down and cried, she was not trained to withstand this kind of torture. The door opened and he stood there, staring at her. He stepped aside and held a hand out, inviting her to leave the cell. “Come with me, please, Doctor Weir.”
Hesitantly, she pushed herself up, using the wall for support. She followed him to a room, where a table had been set, and real food sat on the table. He sat. “The ravin bread is particularly tasty.”
She sat. He served himself from the bowls, and she took food from the bowls after him, eating only what he ate. He didn’t force her to converse; he didn’t force her to do anything. After that night, she ate at the table with him.
Eventually, because she was lonely, she began to talk to him. She asked questions about the Genii. He told her stories, folktales, he even sang to her occasionally. She grew comfortable in his presence. Enough so that she finally asked why her people had not come for her. He told her they thought she was dead. Then he left the table and she ate alone for a week.
~*~
He moved slowly, gave her time to adjust, to accept that things were as they were. He isolated her; she came to depend on him. He became the center of her world, as the months progressed. He grew confident that the once sociable and confident leader of Atlantis was broken to his hand.
One night, he surprised her, taking her to a small gathering, a celebration of a holiday. There was music and a feast and dancing. She was charmed. And terrified, clinging to his arm the entire night. When she did, he knew his plan was working.
He danced with her, holding her in his arms.
The evening ended, he took her back to the room she now had, instead of a cell. He kissed her, caressed her face and left.
A few nights later, when he left the table, he kissed her again. It became part of the routine.
The night he took her in his arms, held her, pressed her further with more intimate kisses, she melted against him, soaking in the attention.
When he followed her back to her room and stepped inside, she held out her hand and allowed him to stay.
~An End~
Fandom: Stargate Atlantis - AU
Characters/Pairing: Weir/Koyla
Orientation: Het
Rating: PG
Word Count: 582
Notes: for theladymore
theladymore, and while I certainly don’t hate you, you did present me with a most difficult challenge. Thanks to camshaft22 for giving it a read through and convincing me to leave it as is.Prompts: for HC Bingo Fill: “Stockholm Syndrome”
Her manner and her beauty had impressed him, when he saw her there, in the city.
When he returned home, as he was burning with fever, healing from his wounds, he dreamed of her. He decided he had to have her.
It was a small matter of
Slightly more complicated to arrange the kidnapping and bombing of the entire village, turning it into a radioactive hole in the ground. The scientists had been thrilled to have a target to test their bomb on.
And so, he had her.
For the first few weeks, Elizabeth believed that they would come for her. She was kept in a cell, given the bare necessities; no demands were made upon her. No one spoke to her. At first, she didn’t even know who had her. But then she figured out that it was the Genii. They let her rage and fume and pound her fists on the walls for a time.
Eventually, she broke down and cried, she was not trained to withstand this kind of torture. The door opened and he stood there, staring at her. He stepped aside and held a hand out, inviting her to leave the cell. “Come with me, please, Doctor Weir.”
Hesitantly, she pushed herself up, using the wall for support. She followed him to a room, where a table had been set, and real food sat on the table. He sat. “The ravin bread is particularly tasty.”
She sat. He served himself from the bowls, and she took food from the bowls after him, eating only what he ate. He didn’t force her to converse; he didn’t force her to do anything. After that night, she ate at the table with him.
Eventually, because she was lonely, she began to talk to him. She asked questions about the Genii. He told her stories, folktales, he even sang to her occasionally. She grew comfortable in his presence. Enough so that she finally asked why her people had not come for her. He told her they thought she was dead. Then he left the table and she ate alone for a week.
He moved slowly, gave her time to adjust, to accept that things were as they were. He isolated her; she came to depend on him. He became the center of her world, as the months progressed. He grew confident that the once sociable and confident leader of Atlantis was broken to his hand.
One night, he surprised her, taking her to a small gathering, a celebration of a holiday. There was music and a feast and dancing. She was charmed. And terrified, clinging to his arm the entire night. When she did, he knew his plan was working.
He danced with her, holding her in his arms.
The evening ended, he took her back to the room she now had, instead of a cell. He kissed her, caressed her face and left.
A few nights later, when he left the table, he kissed her again. It became part of the routine.
The night he took her in his arms, held her, pressed her further with more intimate kisses, she melted against him, soaking in the attention.
When he followed her back to her room and stepped inside, she held out her hand and allowed him to stay.
~An End~