Summary: When Obi-Wan reaches the age of independence, he
accompanies Qui-Gon on their first mission together. However,
not all of the world is as accepting of his relationship with
Qui-Gon as he would wish. Sequel to "In Search of the Sun"
(archived on my webpage).
Feedback: yes, please! Any and all comments welcome.
Author's Note: Many heartfelt thanks to Jennie for the
*extensive* beta, and for the encouragement I needed to finish
this when it threatened to stall on me. This story turned out a
lot sharper and altogether more satisfying because of her
perceptive comments.
Disclaimer: The boyz aren't mine, much as I wish they were.
They belong to George Lucas, who is a kind man for creating
such a wonderful universe for us all to play in.
Warnings: attempted rape (I'm not sure if I need to warn for
this but I figured it's better to be safe than sorry)
Obi-Wan stood on the patio of the estate where he lived with
Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn and watched the sun rise. The air was
cool against his skin, and he inhaled deeply, savoring the
scents of the flowers and woods around him. He sighed in
contentment as he looked down over the trees and gardens that
spread away beneath him in gently sloping increments, divided
by the russet paving stones of the front road. After so many
years, the view was readily familiar to him, and he enjoyed it
as much for its comfortable familiarity as for its beauty.
It was home.
A soft sound behind him made him turn, and he smiled as he saw
his master step out through the front door onto the patio. Obi-
Wan's eyes trailed over the other man as he came forward to
join him at the railing. "Good morning, Master," he said,
shivering pleasantly under the warmth of the older man's gaze.
"Good morning, Obi-Wan." Qui-Gon slid his arms around his
padawan from behind, and Obi-Wan leaned back against him,
sighing happily. He tipped his head slightly as Qui-Gon pressed
a kiss to the side of his neck, the soft beard tickling his
skin. Qui- Gon seemed to pick up on his reaction because he
deliberately ran his chin over Obi-Wan's skin a second time,
tightening his arms around the younger man when he giggled and
squirmed.
Obi-Wan turned and nuzzled into the curve of his master's neck,
breathing in the heady fragrance of his skin. This scent, like
the view of the gardens, was one that he was well-acquainted
with.
It awed him that he could feel so comfortable here, inside his
master's arms. Obi-Wan still found it hard to believe at times
that this man loved him, wanted him, cherished him. It was a
miracle that he woke up to anew each day, and he never ceased
to be thankful for it. He knew that he was Qui-Gon's padawan, a
word that meant "bedslave" in the ancient tongue, but he also
knew that he was more. Because Qui-Gon Jinn loved him.
Qui-Gon must have sensed the subdued shiver that passed through
him at that thought, because he pulled Obi-Wan away from him
slightly so that he could gaze down into the younger man's
eyes. He was smiling. "Pleasant thoughts, my padawan?" he said.
"Yes, Master." Obi-Wan did not elaborate, knowing that Qui-Gon
would understand the direction of his thoughts without having
to ask. Obi-Wan had just recently passed his eighteenth
Nameday, which marked him as past the age of independence among
the Jedi. While still a slave, he would receive a small salary
to spend in the city as he pleased, or to save if he so
desired. In time, it would be possible to save enough to cover
his bond-price, and then he could buy his freedom. Many
padawans waited their entire lives to reach this point, to at
last have the power to throw off the shackles of the servitude
that had bound them since they were children.
But Obi-Wan knew he would never do that.
His feelings for his master were tangled and complex, but at
the heart of it all beat a love that was searing in its
intensity. No matter what else they may be to each other,
Obi-Wan knew that he loved this man, and that this man loved
him. There was no place else in the world that he would rather
be than here, in Qui-Gon's arms.
He tipped his head back and smiled up at his master, reaching
to trail a finger lightly along the line of the older man's
jaw. Qui-Gon leaned into the touch with a soft sigh.
"I love you, Master," Obi-Wan whispered.
"As I love you, my Obi-Wan." Qui-Gon bent to kiss him, and Obi-
Wan melted into his embrace, feeling his body respond
immediately to the passion of his master's kiss. Qui-Gon
smiled, nuzzling his padawan's cheek affectionately. "My
passionate Obi-Wan," he murmured. "I'm looking forward to
showing you off to the world, my love."
Obi-Wan felt a slow tingle of excitement work through him at
the words, mingled with just the faintest touch of fear. Now
that he had reached the age of independence, he was allowed to
accompany his master on his missions, if his master wished it.
Just yesterday, Qui-Gon had been assigned to mediate in a civil
dispute in the far-off country of Samilia. A certain portion of
the population wanted to secede from the larger whole, and both
sides of the dispute had requested Jedi intervention before
their disagreements led to full-scale civil war. Tensions were
still low between the two parties, however, so Qui-Gon had
judged the situation stable enough to bring his padawan with
him, if Obi-Wan so desired. Obi-Wan had eagerly agreed.
Even so, Obi-Wan couldn't help being a trifle wary. Until the
age of thirteen, his entire life had been lived inside the
crèche, located at the heart of the Jedi city of
Coruscant. Then, when Qui-Gon had purchased him as his padawan,
he had moved here, to the Jedi Master's palatial estate.
Obi-Wan had been far from stifled in his upbringing, but he had
not experienced much outside of these grounds and the
occasional visits to Coruscant.
Qui-Gon's arms were soothing around him. "There's nothing to be
afraid of, love. I'll be with you."
Obi-Wan felt a flush of pleasure at the words, feeling
completely protected and loved. "I know," he said, snuggling
back deeper into Qui-Gon's embrace. His eyes found the riot of
vibrant color at the horizon as the sun continued to rise, and
his soul seemed to rise with it, carried on a wave of euphoria.
He was ready for this, had waited his entire life to reach the
point where he could accompany his master on these excursions.
Nothing could possibly go wrong.
Obi-Wan's eyes shone as the carriage pulled out of the front
gate, led by a team of four black horses. Qui-Gon watched him
through lidded eyes, feeling a familiar stirring inside of him
as he saw the blatant happiness in that sea blue gaze. It never
ceased to amaze him how easily this boy had become a part of
his life, how much he truly commanded his master's affections
with a look or a touch or a tender smile. Qui-Gon could not
effectively remember a time when Obi-Wan had not been a part of
his life, as if he had not truly existed at all until this boy
- this man, he corrected himself with a wry grin - had taken
control of his heart.
"Master?" Obi-Wan said uncertainly, feeling the weight of his
master's gaze. He smiled shyly as he turned away from the
window, and Qui-Gon's breath caught at the love he saw
displayed in that wide-eyed gaze.
Qui-Gon held out his arm, and Obi-Wan obediently folded against
him, lying his back against Qui-Gon's chest. The heat of him
seeped through the layers of tunics that they both wore, making
Qui-Gon sigh contentedly. He nuzzled into the side of his
padawan's neck, inhaling the scent of his skin.
"You are so beautiful," he whispered, catching the lobe of Obi-
Wan's ear between his teeth and tugging gently. The resultant
shiver that the younger man made was delightfully erotic. Qui-
Gon was desperately glad that his padawan was here with him
now. He'd always felt as if he were being torn in two when he
went on missions, and was forced to leave this tender soul
behind.
They talked comfortably throughout the long coach ride, Obi-Wan
nestled securely in his master's arms. Qui-Gon pulled a blanket
over the two of them when the weather cooled, and Obi-Wan
snuggled against him, his breath moist against the older man's
neck. Qui-Gon explained what he knew about the Samilian people,
outlining their cultural structure, their history, their
politics, answering whatever questions the younger man could
think of to ask.
Obi-Wan eagerly absorbed it all, although it didn't really
matter much to him what Qui-Gon said to him. He only wanted to
hear his master's voice, be surrounded by his arms, and enjoy
being here with him, embarking on this adventure together for
the very first time.
They were received graciously by their hosts when they arrived
in Samilia. Obi-Wan was introduced as Qui-Gon's "companion",
and he was given the same courtesies as the Jedi ambassador. He
was a bit overwhelmed by the grandeur of the palace as they
were ushered inside, but he stayed close to Qui-Gon's side and
tried to appear as composed as he could. Qui-Gon gave him a
small smile as they stepped inside together, and Obi-Wan was
comforted by the warmth in his master's gaze.
The leader of the Samilian government was a tall, domineering
man by the name of Artzen Talilaeu. His dark eyes raked over
Obi-Wan with a knowing air as Qui-Gon introduced him, and
Obi-Wan couldn't help but think that despite the discretion of
Qui-Gon's greeting, Obi-Wan's purpose here was fairly obvious.
The thought made him feel exposed in an unaccustomed way, and
he lowered his gaze to the floor, feeling faintly nervous.
The head of the opposing faction was named Lar Richein. He was
a much smaller man than his counterpart, slight of build, with
curiously shaded copper hair and soft eyes. His gaze focused on
Obi-Wan as the other men conversed, and Obi-Wan shivered
slightly under the intensity of that bald stare. There was a
certain intensive interest in the way this man looked at him
that made him very uncomfortable, although he did his best to
hide it.
He and Qui-Gon were shown to their rooms then, as the hour was
late. The negotiations would not start until the following
morning. Obi-Wan carried their luggage up the broad stairway
and into the upper halls of the palace, taking in the scene
around him with a sense of wonder. Qui-Gon's estate, while
undeniably grand, had a subtle, understated beauty to it that
relied more on open space and muted accents, mirroring the
sweeping vistas of the outdoors. The Samilian palace was exotic
and somewhat garish in the way it flaunted the wealth of its
people, draped in rich velvets and bright tapestries. It
reminded Obi-Wan forcibly that he was in a foreign country, and
far from home.
As Obi-Wan began to unpack their clothes, hanging them in the
closets that had been put aside for their use, Qui-Gon
stretched luxuriously and went to stand in front of the large
window against the far wall. The sun had just set, and the sky
was that unique shade of violet-blue that heralds the twilight
hours. Their suite was on the second floor of the palace, and
the window looked out over the rear of the estate, providing a
perfect view of the gardens and forests that draped the
surrounding hills. It was a scene of carefully cultivated
elegance, beautiful and rich and wild, and Qui-Gon luxuriated
in the sheer unfamiliarity of it. This was one of the things he
loved most about being a Jedi - these first hazy glimpses of a
new country, with all of the customs and people and challenges
that came with it.
He felt a sense of peace as he turned to watch Obi-Wan putter
about the room, arranging their belongings so that they would
be readily accessible during their stay here. Qui-Gon's heart
swelled with happiness as he took in the sight of his padawan,
seeing anew the boy inside the man that he had grown to love.
The lamplight caught on the edges of Obi-Wan's hair with a halo
of golden radiance, bringing out its reddish highlights as he
moved under its caressing touch. Gods, he was beautiful. Qui-
Gon felt a burst of overwhelming pride that the rulers here
would see this man standing loyally at his side.
Obi-Wan looked up and saw his master gazing at him with heat in
his eyes, and he smiled, feeling an answering heat rise inside
of him. It was incredible, the things this man could make him
feel with nothing more than the caress of his eyes.
"So what do you think of our hosts?" Qui-Gon asked, moving into
the middle of the room to better see his padawan's expression.
He frowned at the sudden shadow that crossed the younger man's
eyes at the question. "Obi-Wan?" he urged, when Obi-Wan
hesitated to reply.
Obi-Wan shook his head, standing with one of his master's robes
draped between his hands. "It's nothing, Master. Really. I was
just a little uncomfortable with the way they looked at me, is
all. Especially the New Union representative."
Qui-Gon perched lightly on the edge of the large bed and
gestured for Obi-Wan to come to him. Obi-Wan obeyed, dropping
the robe carefully over the back of a tall chair, and moved
forward to sit on his master's lap. Qui-Gon's arms closed
around him, holding him close, and Obi-Wan sighed in
contentment at the familiar feel of his master's embrace. Some
of the tension drained out of him as he nuzzled in close to the
other man's neck, feeling Qui-Gon's beard brush whisper-soft
against the skin of his face.
"My Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon sighed, rubbing his hand soothingly over
the planes of the younger man's back. Obi-Wan melted into the
touch, responsive as ever to the touch of his master's hands.
"You've led such a sheltered life up until now." It was true.
The only people he'd ever had to interact with at any length
were Qui-Gon's servants and the Jedi in the city, and the
children at the crèche where he had grown up. "You're
bound to find your newly expanded world a little frightening,
but I beg you not to face it with fear."
"I'll try, Master," Obi-Wan said, trying to draw on the
serenity that always seemed to surround his master, as if it
were as much a part of him as his eyes or his hair or his skin.
His hands clenched in the sleeves of the older man's robe.
Qui-Gon smiled, stroking lightly along the curve of Obi-Wan's
jaw. "Also, my love," he said with a faint note of amusement in
his voice. "You are very beautiful. You're bound to attract
quite a few gazes, and it is something you had better get used
to unless you plan on walking around with a bag over your head
for the rest of your life."
Obi-Wan laughed, feeling the last clinging tendrils of his
tension dissipate. He pulled away from Qui-Gon's embrace enough
so that he could gaze up into the other man's face. He could
feel the heat rise in his cheeks at his master's blatant
praise, but he was secretly thrilled by the words. "I'll keep
that in mind, Master," he said wryly.
Qui-Gon hugged him tightly. "I love you, Obi-Wan. I want the
whole world to see you, and admire you, and know that you're
mine."
Obi-Wan returned the hug with abandon, feeling swept away by
the love that he felt for this man. Qui-Gon's fingers stroked
through the hair at the back of his head in a possessive
gesture, and Obi-Wan needed no further urging to tip his head
up and meet the heat of his master's kiss.
Around them, Samilia and all of its concurrent troubles faded
away to nothing, and there was only the two of them, joined, a
single soul swirling away into an influx of light.
Obi-Wan, while welcome at the palace, was not allowed access
to the actual negotiations. When Qui-Gon went to sit down with
the Samilian leaders the following morning, Obi-Wan ventured
out to amuse himself in the palace gardens.
The trees here were different than he was used to, their
branches darker, more coniferous, and he breathed in the heady
scent of them with a sense of anticipation, reveling in the
excitement of setting foot in an alien land. He could
understand his master's love for this type of work, visiting
these exotic climes on a regular basis, seeing the different
faces of the world.
He found a fancifully carved stone bench at the side of a
green- water pond, sheltered beneath the branches of several
dark-leafed trees. The air here smelled faintly spicy, and he
breathed it in deeply, savoring the scent of these foreign
woods.
It was a surprise when he was joined by Lar Richein, the leader
of the New Union faction. It was this splinter group of
Samilians who wanted to break away from the rest of their
country and claim autonomy, a proposition that was being met by
severe disapproval from the main body of the Samilian
government.
Obi-Wan felt a tingle of unease as the man approached, but he
smiled pleasantly, remembering what Qui-Gon had said about not
letting his fears rule him.
"Good morning, Your Excellency," Obi-Wan said, lowering his
gaze respectfully as the man sat beside him on the bench.
"Good morning, Obi-Wan. And it's just 'Lar', if you don't mind.
I've had enough of 'Your Excellency' to last me a lifetime." He
smiled slightly, dipping his head to coax Obi-Wan to meet his
gaze.
Obi-Wan raised his eyes slowly, feeling uncertain. "Your role
as spokesman for your people does not sit well with you?" he
ventured hesitantly.
Lar smiled again, and it was an open, honest expression that
lit up the hazel depths of his eyes. "Change is not an easy
thing to accomplish, Obi-Wan, no matter how beneficial.
Sometimes it comes at great price, and with much sacrifice."
"I ... suppose it does." Obi-Wan shifted his gaze away to stare
out over the pond. He couldn't suppress the slow shiver of
uneasiness that passed through him, and he pulled his robe a
little tighter around him to ward off the chill. "I thought you
would be in negotiations with my master this morning."
Lar was silent a moment. "Your ... master," he said after a
heavy pause, "is currently speaking with the honorable
sovereign Talilaeu." His voice held a wry twist of humor. "He
thought it best to discuss matters with each of us individually
before beginning the task of coercing us into any compromises.
I do not envy your master his job, Obi-Wan."
Obi-Wan smiled briefly, appreciating the irony in the words. "I
have no doubt that my master will be successful in reaching a
settlement that will be beneficial to both your peoples."
Lar tipped his head back slightly, giving Obi-Wan a long,
appraising look. "Such perfect faith," he observed with an
inexplicable note of melancholy in his voice. "Tell me,
Obi-Wan, what exactly is the service that you perform for your
master?"
For some reason, the question gave Obi-Wan pause. He fixed his
gaze firmly on the flat, unmoving waters of the pond, listening
to the faint call of birdsong that sounded from somewhere
distant in the wood. The wind blew softly past him, rustling
his hair against the skin of his cheek. It felt uncomfortably
like a caress.
"I am his padawan," he said at last, wondering why he should
suddenly feel so reluctant to say those words.
A leaden silence greeted his statement, and Obi-Wan turned to
see something dark flicker across Lar's eyes. Apparently this
man knew exactly what the word "padawan" meant, and he did not
approve. Obi-Wan shivered.
"Of course you don't know any better," Lar said after a moment,
making Obi-Wan feel unaccountably shamed. He smiled sadly.
"It's all you've ever known."
"What do you mean?" Obi-Wan asked, feeling inexplicably
offended by the observation.
Lar replied, "We of the New Union do not believe in the concept
of slavery. It's one of the reasons we wish to secede from
Samilia. The government here, like the Jedi, supports the
practice of keeping slaves." His expression turned faintly
disgusted, as if he found the word distasteful.
Obi-Wan did not know what to say. He felt moved to defend his
master. "The Jedi pay excruciating attention to the care of
their padawans," he said, hearing the slight edge of defiance
in his voice. Trying to tone it down, he added, "We are not
allowed to go on missions until we reach the age of
independence, so that we are better able to defend ourselves in
the world. I'm given a small salary now, and if ever I save up
enough to cover my bond- price, I will be able to buy my
freedom." He did not mention that he had no intention of ever
doing so; such details seemed far too intimate to share with
this man. "Qui-Gon treats me very well. You have no cause to
worry for my well-being."
Lar's expression was shadowed. "So now you are no longer his
bedslave alone, but his whore?"
Obi-Wan blushed darkly, stung by the words. That wasn't what he
had meant when he'd said Qui-Gon was paying him. "I-"
Lar held up his hand in immediate apology. "I'm sorry,
Obi-Wan," he said. "I shouldn't have said that to you. I know
that you've had no choice in what you've become. It's what you
were raised to do, and you were never given the chance to
realize that you are worth so much more than this life you were
sold into."
Obi-Wan shook his head, confused. He wanted to explain that he
did not feel worthless when Qui-Gon touched him, held him - on
the contrary, he felt as if he was worth more than a universe,
cherished and loved. But he could not find the words.
"It's all right, Obi-Wan," Lar said softly, placing his hand
over Obi-Wan's where it laid between them on the bench. "You
don't have to be ashamed because of what you are."
*But I'm not!* Obi-Wan wanted to scream. He felt sick to his
stomach suddenly, and the words he was hearing stung like
poisonous barbs inside his mind. Angrily, he pulled his hand
away from the other man's touch.
Lar's eyes lowered in silent apology. "I apologize. I know how
difficult it must be for you to be ... touched."
Obi-Wan stood up abruptly, feeling angry and lost and more than
a little confused. "You don't ... you don't understand." His
voice shook when he said it. He could feel tears stinging in
the corners of his eyes and fisted his hands at his sides in an
effort to hold them back.
"It wasn't my intention to upset you, Obi-Wan." Lar looked
honestly repentant. "I just wanted you to know that you are not
alone. That there are those of us who care about you, and who
sympathize with your ordeal."
Obi-Wan bowed stiffly, trying to remember his place here. This
man was his host, and it would not do to behave disrespectfully
toward him. "Thank you, Excellency. May I be excused now,
please?" He knew that he was overreacting, that he was acting
well outside the bounds of courtesy, but he could not bring
himself to care.
Lar nodded sadly. "Of course, Obi-Wan."
Obi-Wan fled the garden and returned to the palace, going
directly to the rooms that he and Qui-Gon shared. Throwing
himself down onto the bed, he immediately started to cry,
shuddering under the weight of the shamed and guilty feelings
that writhed within him.
When Qui-Gon returned to their suite that afternoon, he found
Obi-Wan napping on their bed. He paused in the doorway a
moment, drinking in the sight of him, admiring the way the
slanting sunlight painted the young man's skin with a soft
profusion of color, gilding the golden tips of his lashes.
Obi-Wan woke when Qui-Gon sat on the bed next to him, smiling
up at him with sleep-hazed eyes. "Hello, Master," he greeted
with a soft sigh. "How did the meeting go?"
Qui-Gon ran his hand over the younger man's hair, smiling as
Obi- Wan arched up into his touch. "I am hopeful for a swift
resolution," he said. "Both parties seem honestly interested in
reaching an acceptable compromise."
Obi-Wan felt an uncomfortable tremor of disquiet move through
him. He wondered if he should mention his encounter with Lar
and bring his master's attention to the innate dislike that the
New Union had towards the idea of slavery, but he did not know
if it was his place to make such an observation.
Before he could make up his mind about how much he should
reveal, Qui-Gon's hand slid down around the side of his face to
cup his jaw. "I missed you today," Qui-Gon murmured to him,
blunt thumb tracing over the edge of his padawan's cheek. It
was the only warning that Obi-Wan had before the older man was
kissing him.
Obi-Wan responded eagerly, needing this touch between them. He
moaned low in his throat as Qui-Gon's tongue slid into him, and
his hands immediately moved to embrace his master's shoulders,
pulling the other man down on top of him.
They lay back against the bed without a word, bodies pressed
tightly together, and Obi-Wan felt Qui-Gon's erection rub
demandingly against his thigh. His master's intentions were
obvious. He felt a familiar thrill of excitement, that Qui-Gon
would want him, would love him this way, but then, against his
will, he remembered the things that Lar had said to him.
Something turned cold deep in the pit of his stomach, even as
he continued to respond to Qui-Gon's touches.
"Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon panted, sliding his hands down over
Obi-Wan's ass and squeezing, arching his hips forward against
the younger man's body. His breath was hot against Obi-Wan's
face. "You have no idea how absolutely beautiful you are." His
hands slid up the length of Obi-Wan's back, stroking deeply,
and pressed lightly on the younger man's shoulders. "Go down on
me, love," he whispered harshly, his voice rough with arousal.
He caught one of Obi-Wan's ears in between his lips and
suckled, nipping lightly with his teeth.
Obi-Wan felt a sudden chill. He knew that Qui-Gon would never
force him into any kind of intimacy he didn't want, but at the
same time, he was achingly aware of his status as Qui-Gon's
slave suddenly. What importance did the wishes of a slave have?
He wondered what would happen if he were to pull away and tell
Qui- Gon that he didn't want to do this right now. With a
feeling of trepidation that bordered on nausea, he realized
that he didn't want to find out.
He felt numb as he slid down over Qui-Gon's arching body and
fumbled at the opening of his master's leggings. Qui-Gon's
hands slid through his hair, and soft whimpers of need fell
past the older man's lips, his hips rising fluidly into
Obi-Wan's touch as his padawan freed his erection from the
confines of his pants. "Obi-Wan," he whispered, pressing with
one hand on Obi-Wan's shoulder, pleading with him to continue.
"Please..."
Qui-Gon's penis was hard and throbbing in Obi-Wan's hands, soft
skin stretched tight over hot steel. Qui-Gon made soft, urgent
sounds as Obi-Wan cradled the stiff cock in his hands, stroking
it lightly. Taking a deep breath to steady himself, Obi-Wan
closed his eyes and took the hard flesh deep into his mouth.
Qui-Gon arched up against him with a low cry, hands tightening
in Obi-Wan's hair. It wouldn't take long for him to find his
release in this condition. Obi-Wan had learned well over the
years what touches his master liked best, and he had no wish to
prolong the experience now. Qui-Gon came with a ragged shout
and a violent arch of his hips, and Obi-Wan clung to him as he
swallowed the bitter flood of his master's pleasure.
It took a few minutes for Qui-Gon to recover. When he did, he
pushed Obi-Wan gently back against the pillows and bent down to
kiss him deeply. The look in his eyes was heavy and sated, and
he smiled tenderly down at his padawan, touching his face
lightly. "I love you, Obi-Wan."
Obi-Wan choked down a sob, ashamed of his earlier fear, and
closed his eyes as Qui-Gon began to move down his body with
slow kisses and tender nips, pushing up his padawan's tunic
with both hands so he could have access to the skin of
Obi-Wan's chest and belly. Obi-Wan undulated under him, dizzy
with desire, and his breath caught on a cry as Qui-Gon's lips
closed over the head of his aching cock.
Obi-Wan pressed his hips up into Qui-Gon's warm mouth, fingers
clawing desperately at the mattress beneath him. Qui-Gon
stroked his thumbs deeply into the hollows of Obi-Wan's hips,
anchoring him, but he allowed Obi-Wan to make love to his
mouth, setting whatever pace he wanted.
Obi-Wan pumped madly into that moist, hot chasm, fisting his
hands in the sheets to either side of him, staring blindly up
at the ceiling as the sensations washed over him. The pleasure
screamed through him, stealing his breath away, and his
thoughts narrowed to the bright point of ecstasy between his
legs.
"Love you!" he cried as he came, and his entire body convulsed
as the orgasm whipped through him, a slave to the passions that
Qui- Gon had instigated inside of him. "Love you," he sobbed,
as the tremors slowly decreased in intensity, leaving him
feeling strangely empty. His eyes closed on an unsteady sigh as
he repeated, "Love you, Master. I love you."
Qui-Gon held him as the aftereffects of the orgasm slowly
dissipated, petting his back lightly, kissing his hair. Obi-Wan
folded into the embrace gladly, almost desperately, thinking
only about how good it felt to be in Qui-Gon's arms.
As he lay there panting in his master's embrace, his
contentment was dimmed as a memory of Lar's voice arced
accusingly through his mind.
*Whore...*
Obi-Wan sat beside his master that night at dinner. It felt odd
to have someone serve him, and this realization made him
irrationally angry for a moment before he took a stranglehold
on his emotions and cut them off before they could become a
problem. It was a great relief when the meal was concluded, and
they all moved into an adjoining sitting room to relax and
converse.
Qui-Gon sat in a comfortable chair by the fireplace, gesturing
for Obi-Wan to kneel at his feet. Obi-Wan obeyed without a
word, sinking to his knees and leaning in close against his
master's legs. He kept his gaze firmly affixed to the floor as
Qui-Gon's hand moved to ruffle the hair at the back of his
head. He could feel Lar's eyes on him without having to look,
and he colored slightly under the imagined observation.
Qui-Gon and the other men talked about trivial matters at
first, and Obi-Wan ignored the conversation that ebbed and
swelled around him. He rested his chin on Qui-Gon's knee and
closed his eyes, relaxing into the feel of his master's fingers
sliding rhythmically through his hair.
Then the conversation turned to the proposed break between
Samilia and the New Union, and one of the Samilian leaders
spoke up in a tone that immediately grabbed Obi-Wan's
attention.
"Perhaps your servant should leave the room now, Master Jinn,
since we are about to begin discussing political matters."
Obi-Wan looked up sharply, stiffening, and flushed darkly.
Every eye in the room was fixed on him.
Qui-Gon nudged him gently with his knee. "Go on, Obi-Wan," he
said apologetically, trailing his fingers in a light caress
along the side of Obi-Wan's neck. "I'll be up in a little
while."
Obi-Wan stared. Qui-Gon fully expected him to comply without a
word of protest, as if he were a child to go scurrying away at
his parent's whim. Obi-Wan felt a twinge of cold fury that his
master would belittle him in this way. His fingers clenched
into fists as he fought the tide of fury within him, nails
cutting into his palms. He felt the heat in his face and
shivered in renewed humiliation as he realized that his
distress would be evident for everyone in the room to see. He
could practically hear the thunderous pounding of his heart.
"Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon said again, with a note of displeasure in
his voice.
It was enough to snap Obi-Wan out of his paralysis. He looked
away sharply, unable to stand looking at what he imagined to be
pity in his master's eyes. Suddenly unable to contain his
anger, he stood and bowed stiffly. "As my master wishes," he
ground out, knowing that his tone was rebellious but at the
moment too humiliated to care. He caught Lar's eye as he turned
to leave the room, and he flushed anew under the New Union
representative's sympathetic gaze.
Without waiting for a reply, Obi-Wan left the room and returned
to the suite that he and Qui-Gon shared. He sat on the edge of
the bed and wrapped his arms tightly around himself, shivering.
*What is wrong with me?* his mind demanded furiously, as he
fought against the tremors that wracked through him. He had
been a slave all his life, and nothing about his situation had
changed. But never had he felt so much like property, so
insignificant, like a *thing* to be used and put on display and
then discarded when his presence became inconvenient. The fact
that Qui-Gon had never once done anything to provoke such an
attitude in him only made Obi-Wan feel guilty on top of
everything else, and compounded his misery.
His gaze moved to the open window, and some of the tension left
him as he took in the view outside. The sun had just set, and
the gardens were cloaked in a shroud of clinging purple
shadows. The sky at the horizon was still touched with a fading
blush of color. Somewhere, he could hear a fountain gurgling.
It was such a beautiful, primal scene, and Obi-Wan was struck
by the sudden urge to run out and lose himself in it, to shed
the chains of the fears and uncertainties that bound him here.
Even his love for his master felt suddenly constrictive, as if
it was weighing him down, binding him to something that he had
not chosen and could not change. For this one moment, all that
he wanted was to take his destiny into his own hands and run
away from it all.
But of course he could not do that. Obi-Wan's lips curled in a
sneer as he pondered that core truth. He was a slave, and his
place was here, in his master's bed. He doubted that the
Samilians would have much sympathy for him if they caught him
wandering around in the gardens after his master had ordered
him specifically to retire to their rooms.
Ruthlessly suppressing the core of misery that bubbled and
churned inside of him, he lay down on the coverlet of the bed
fully clothed and curled up on his side, pillowing his head on
his hands. He kept his eyes glued to the window, drinking in
the view he was afforded as if it were the elixir of life
itself. From this vantage point, all he could see were stars.
For some reason, this made him feel even more sorrowful.
He didn't believe that he would be able to fall asleep, but,
much to his surprise, he did.
He woke what seemed a very short time later to the knowledge
that he was no longer in his bed.
The world seemed to be dipping and swaying beneath him in a
vaguely restful manner, lulling him when his senses screamed at
him to awaken. He tensed, hands fisting in the folds of a
voluminous cloak, and moaned faintly, laying his cheek against
the hard chest of the man he was curled up against. "Master?"
he said quietly, feeling restless and more than a little
frightened.
"Shh," a voice answered from somewhere over his head. "Just
relax, Obi-Wan. We're almost there."
It wasn't Qui-Gon.
This realization brought Obi-Wan to full wakefulness, and he
sat up abruptly, wincing at the pain that shot through his head
as he did so. He immediately saw that he was sitting on the
back of a horse, in the middle of a small convoy of similar
riders, wrapped up in the cloak of the man who rode behind him.
The road they traveled down was deserted, and the sky was
aflame with a mosaic of shimmering stars, brilliant yet somehow
cold in their unearthly beauty. Around them, tall, dark trees
seemed to bend in toward the road, domineering and more than a
little frightening in their shrouded darkness. There was no
sign of the palace.
"What have you done?" Obi-Wan whispered in horror, clutching
instinctively at the cloak of the man who held him.
He looked up to see Lar's soft hazel eyes peering down at him,
luminous in the dusky shadows that fell shifting around them.
The older man tightened his arm around Obi-Wan's waist where it
held him and smiled in what was undoubtedly meant to be a
reassuring manner, begging Obi-Wan with his eyes to understand.
"Please just relax, Obi-Wan," he pleaded softly. "We've gotten
you out of the palace, but we're not safe yet."
Obi-Wan placed both palms against the man's chest and pushed,
forcing Lar to loosen the hold he had around him. Obi-Wan
stared into the other man's eyes in open disbelief. "You
abducted me."
"We freed you." There was a hint of steel in Lar's voice,
making Obi-Wan shiver. Immediately, Lar's expression softened.
"One of the cooks at the palace is sympathetic to our cause.
She added a slow-acting sedative to your food at the evening
meal. It's completely harmless, I assure you," he added
hastily, when he saw the incredulity on Obi-Wan's features.
"All it did was help you sleep."
Obi-Wan couldn't believe what he was hearing. "You drugged me,
abducted me, took me away from the palace against my will, and
now you're expecting me to ... what? Thank you?" He couldn't
keep the anger out of his voice.
"We couldn't be certain that you would have come with us of
your own free will," Lar said with absolute conviction. "It's
been so very long since you've had cause to exercise it. If you
ever have."
With a tired sigh, Obi-Wan sank back against the other man's
chest, giving up on the argument. "You don't understand
anything," he said morosely, rubbing at his eyes.
Lar sighed, a deep exhalation of breath that ruffled the hair
at the top of Obi-Wan's head. "Give it time, Obi-Wan," he
urged. "You're still thinking like a slave. I understand that
it's all you know how to be, but that life is over for you now.
You're free."
Obi-Wan was silent for a moment, trying those words out in his
mind. *You're free.* They felt strange, alien. He wasn't sure
if he liked or disliked the thrill he felt when he heard them.
"My master will come after me," he said after a moment. His
heart ached when he thought of Qui-Gon. "And he'll know
immediately that it was you who kidnapped me."
"There has been no evidence of ... kidnapping," Lar said with
some reluctance. "Your defiance this evening was evident for
all to see. There will be no sign of forced entry to your room.
Several of the palace servants will remember seeing you slip
outside for a walk in the gardens, contrary to your master's
wishes. Perhaps you feared reprimand for your actions and fled.
Or perhaps some tragedy befell you while you walked; not even
the palace grounds are entirely secure in these tumultuous
times."
Obi-Wan began to feel ill. "So I'm an escaped slave now." And
then, "My master will never believe it."
"It hardly matters what your master believes." Lar's voice was
apologetic. "What matters is what the Samilian government
accepts as truth. Qui-Gon Jinn is a Jedi first, and a master
second. He will finish what he has come here to accomplish,
before he makes any effort to pursue you. It gives you some
time, Obi-Wan."
"But he will notice your absence."
"Perhaps he will suspect, but he will not accuse. He will deal
with my second as faithfully as he would have dealt with me. An
urgent messenger arrived at the gates this evening, begging my
hasty return to my people. I left immediately. While worthy of
note, my absence will not be of any great concern."
Obi-Wan ground his teeth in frustration. "You risk much for a
single slave." His voice was bitter.
"It is what we believe in, Obi-Wan." Lar's voice was soft. "I
could not in conscience see you forced into another night with
that man."
Obi-Wan shivered, closing his eyes and slumping against the
hard bulwark of the other man's chest. "It sounds as if I have
just traded one master for another."
He felt a sort of mean satisfaction when Lar tensed at his
words. It pleased him that the man seemed to have nothing
further to say to him after that.
They traveled for nearly three days before coming to one of the
villages where Lar and his people lived. It was a small, modest
town that boasted nothing of the Samilian palace's grandeur,
and yet Obi-Wan found it even more attractive than the capital.
He hunched down into Lar's cloak as they passed down the
central road, but none of the people he saw seemed to be paying
him any undue attention.
"Welcome to Aragosa," Lar said with quiet reverence. "This is a
community of free peoples, who have thrown off the bonds of
Samilian law. There are no slaves here, Obi-Wan."
"Did you kidnap them, too?" Obi-Wan asked sullenly.
Lar smiled, ignoring the comment. "I'll admit that we are not
as prosperous as Samilia, but our people are happy here."
"You make it sound as if you've already succeeded in breaking
away from the main country." Despite himself, Obi-Wan couldn't
help but look at the faces of the people they passed. They did,
indeed, seem happy.
"Oh, but we have." Lar turned his horse into the front
courtyard of a small inn and waved at the young stableboy who
ran out to take hold of the reins. "In our hearts, we have,
Obi-Wan. Here in the New Union, we are all free."
Lar ruffled the hair of the stableboy as he dismounted, and he
ushered Obi-Wan ahead of him as he moved up the steps to the
low entryway of the building. He gestured that Obi-Wan should
take a seat by the window and moved to the low bar at the far
wall, presumably to secure rooms for his men.
Obi-Wan tried to be inconspicuous as he waited to Lar to
return. He felt very much out of place here. The men who had
ridden with them trickled into the building in ones and twos,
and he eyed them warily from under his lashes as they passed
him by. Obi-Wan had never been without an escort during their
time on the road, even when Lar had been occupied elsewhere
during their rest breaks. Obi-Wan had found it amusing in a
darkly humorous way that he had never in his life felt so much
a prisoner as he did now that he was "free".
One of the men caught his eye, and Obi-Wan shivered without
knowing why. The man's name was Dram, and he had been a
constant presence during the long journey. Even so, Obi-Wan had
never quite grown used to him, and he was uncomfortable with
the way the man had looked at him. It made Obi-Wan painfully
aware of the fact that he had been a slave - a whore, as Lar
had so graciously called him - and his shame had deepened with
every touch of the man's eyes.
Lar returned to his table then, cutting his thoughts short. The
New Union leader set a mug of something chill and dark down on
the table in front of him, and Obi-Wan reached for it
gratefully, without meeting the other man's eyes. "Thank you."
Lar sat down in the chair across from him and closed his hands
around his own mug. "You're welcome." Obi-Wan could feel the
appraising look that was raked over him and did his best to
ignore it.
A moment later, Lar spoke again. "You don't have to be ashamed
to meet my eyes, Obi-Wan."
Obi-Wan raised his gaze in response to the challenge and barely
concealed his wince at the compassion he saw in the other man's
eyes. The worst part of this was that Lar honestly believed he
was doing the right thing by taking Obi-Wan away from his
master. "I don't understand why you're doing this," he said,
dropping his gaze again. His finger traced lightly over the
side of his glass, making abstract patterns in the condensation
that had gathered there.
Lar sighed. "I'm not surprised that you're having such a hard
time with the concept of freedom. It's completely alien to you,
and you probably feel very lost and scared right now. I can
only assure you that we made the right choice in taking you out
of that place, and that you will come to cherish your freedom
as much as we do, in time."
"'Freedom?'" Obi-Wan's voice was incredulous. "Is that what you
call this?" Suddenly angry, he shoved his drink aside and
stared out the window, shaking. "You take me away from the man
who raised me, loved me. You turned me into a fugitive, held me
against my will, and you have the audacity to preach that you
did it *for my own good?*"
"You speak of love," Lar said calmly, refusing to respond to
the ire in the younger man's voice. "Was it love to force you
into a life of slavery? Into giving over command of your body
to another?"
"Qui-Gon never forced me," Obi-Wan said, his voice brittle.
"Not once."
"Of course not." Lar's expression was sad. "It's not considered
force to demand the obedience of a slave, now is it?" A pause.
"Did you ever try to say no to him?"
Obi-Wan felt a scream rise in his throat and struggled to force
it down. "Qui-Gon's attentions were never unwelcome to me."
"So you never once tried to defy him. You just accepted it."
Obi-Wan shook his head, trying to fight the wave of confusion
that Lar's words invoked in him. "It wasn't like that."
Lar was merciless. "You never even tried to defy him, so you
don't really know what he would have done. You were his slave,
Obi-Wan, not his lover. No doubt he had some obscure affection
for you, as people do towards their favored pets, but you
cannot truly believe in your heart that it was love."
Obi-Wan felt tears slide down his cheeks and wiped them away
furiously with the back of his hand. He kept his gaze fixed
unwaveringly on the wooded view outside the window.
Lar sighed again, leaning forward to touch Obi-Wan's hair
gently. "Oh, Obi-Wan," he murmured. "I'm sorry this is so very
hard for you. We've taken the step of freeing your body, but
only you can free your soul."
Obi-Wan said nothing for a long minute. "I'd like to get some
sleep now," he said after a moment, unmoving. "If I'm allowed."
Lar nodded. "Of course. Your room is on the second floor." He
paused. "I hope you'll think about what I've said, Obi-Wan."
Wordlessly, Obi-Wan stood up from his chair. Lar slid a small
key across the table to him, and Obi-Wan snatched it up without
meeting the other man's eyes.
He was still shaking as he climbed up the stairs to his room,
and he felt only marginally better once he'd locked the door
securely behind him. His mind was strangely blank. He had no
doubt that Lar's people would be keeping an eye out for him to
insure that he stayed put, so that he wouldn't throw away his
"freedom".
The bed was small but comfortable, and despite the late
afternoon light that filtered in through the windows, Obi-Wan
fell fast asleep.
Obi-Wan dreamed.
He had never had anything other than a positive view of his
master, and in his mind's eye, Qui-Gon had always been
surrounded by a halo of light, an endless repository of
kindness and love. Now that vision was shadowed, darkened, and
his dreams were filled with uncomfortable imaginings and vague
fears.
Did Qui-Gon love him? Was it possible for a master to love his
slave? Obi-Wan shuddered in misery as this question played over
and over in his mind. What if he had said no to Qui-Gon at some
point? Would his master have accepted his wishes? Or would the
Jedi Master have demanded the obedience of his slave?
Obi-Wan was woken rudely the next morning by a rough knock on
the door. He sat up in bed and rubbed at his eyes gingerly,
feeling lost for a moment as he struggled to remember where he
was. Then the memory returned, and the chill inside of him
deepened as he rose to answer the door.
It was Dram. The man was holding a breakfast tray in his hands
and looked none too happy about being assigned the duty of
delivering it. Obi-Wan shivered under the gaze of those dark
eyes, uncomfortably aware of his disheveled state. He had slept
in his clothes again, and his face was streaked with dried
tears. He must look the epitome of misery, but he could not
bring himself to care.
He gestured for Dram to set the tray down on the low table
beside the bed. "Thank you," he said, instinctively dropping
his gaze to the floor. He remembered Lar's accusation about
being afraid to meet people's eyes as an equal, but there
didn't seem to be anything he could do about it. A sharp pain
arced through his stomach as he caught the smell of the food,
reminding him that he had not eaten since midday yesterday.
He realized suddenly that Dram was not leaving the room.
Obi-Wan looked up at the larger man, feeling suddenly
uncomfortable.
"You liked being a bedslave, didn't you?" Dram said, his eyes
hooded.
Obi-Wan shivered. "It's all I ever knew how to be," he relied
hesitantly, not wanting to get into this discussion again. He
sat on the edge of the bed and started picking through the food
that had been brought for him, hoping that Dram would take the
hint and leave.
But Dram seemed drawn to him by a sense of morbid curiosity. He
moved forward to stand next to Obi-Wan, gazing down at him.
"How can you mourn a life like that? Do you really think so
little of yourself?"
Obi-Wan bowed his head, his fist clenching on the table in
front of him. Why couldn't people just leave him alone?
"I'd like to be by myself for a while," he said sharply, hating
that his voice sounded strained when he said it. "If you don't
mind."
Dram hovered a moment longer, then nodded. "Sure."
Obi-Wan let out his breath in a gusting sigh after the other
man left the room and immediately got up to lock the door
again. It didn't escape his notice that his hands were shaking.
"Get a grip, Kenobi," he muttered to himself as he returned to
his meal.
He felt the urge to leave his room later that morning, and he
took the time to rinse his face and hair in the washbasin
against the wall before he went. He'd be damned if he was going
to lock himself in here all day. He had never enjoyed being
confined, and it rankled on him even more now that he was
supposedly "free".
He couldn't help but feel that he was a political game piece, a
statement that Lar was making before his people, proof
incarnate that their leader wasn't afraid to challenge the
Samilian government or even the Jedi for the sake of their
independence. No doubt freedom was a powerful motivator for
these people, but Obi-Wan's freedom - and his presence here as
a visible symbol of the New Union's goals - was somewhat more
important than most.
He found Lar sitting in the common room, waiting for him. The
New Union leader smiled as Obi-Wan approached. "Good morning,
Obi-Wan. I trust you slept well?"
"As well as can be expected, I guess." Obi-Wan didn't care if
he sounded trite. It felt rather nice not to have to be
obsequious all the time.
Lar nodded his understanding. "I thought you'd prefer taking
the morning meal in your room, instead of having to deal with
everyone down here."
"Yes. Thank you." Obi-Wan let the gratitude show in his voice.
He truly did appreciate the man's perception. His gaze moved to
the window, and he felt compelled to ask, "Would you mind if I
went out to walk in the woods for a bit?"
Lar hesitated. "I hope you know it's not our intention to hold
you against your will, Obi-Wan."
"Of course not. I'm free now." He smiled slightly at the irony
of the words. "I'll accept another 'escort' if you feel the
need."
"I just want to insure that the bonds holding you to your
captivity are completely severed," Lar said, desperate that
Obi- Wan understand. "That means protecting you from yourself,
until you've had time to come to terms with your new life."
Obi-Wan rubbed the back of his neck with one hand. "Sure. Does
that mean I can't go outside?"
Lar hesitated a moment longer, then nodded. "You may go. Please
try to stay within sight of the inn."
Obi-Wan heard the words not spoken with perfect clarity - he
would be watched. "Thank you," he said, grateful that at least
he would be allowed the chance to venture off on his own.
He rose to leave without another word. As he stepped outside,
he tipped his head back to look up at the sky. He breathed
deeply of the crisp air and tried to forget for the moment the
uncertainties that were assailing him. His entire world seemed
to have been turned upside down, and now he did not know what
to believe about anything. Even his own heart.
Dry needles crunched under his boots as he walked around behind
the inn, enjoying the shade of the tall trees that surrounded
him. He caught another whiff of that sharply spicy scent that
was unique to Samilia, and smiled. This was remarkably
peaceable country.
He took care to stay within sight of the inn, not wanting to
alarm his hosts into thinking he was attempting to escape his
newfound freedom. It felt good to be outdoors again, away from
the knowing eyes and pitying glances of these men who sought to
help him. They were idealists, and while Obi-Wan resented their
interference in his life, he had to admit that he admired their
sense of honor and their willingness to take risks for what
they believed in.
And were they so far from the truth of things? Obi-Wan's
relationship with his master aside, surely slavery could be a
deplorable thing. He thought suddenly of the other children in
the crèche where he had grown up - had any of them been
as lucky as he? It was something he'd never really thought
about before. It gave him a chill to think of it; what must it
be like for the unwilling ones, the ones who didn't have the
fortune to find masters who touched them with love?
Feeling suddenly cold, he pulled his cloak tighter around him.
A quick glance over his shoulder told him that he had wandered
further than he'd intended. The amber-wood walls of the inn
were lost from sight behind the trees, although he was certain
he could find his way back without difficulty. Even though his
mind rebelled against the thought of being held captive in this
place, he had no wish to become lost in an unfamiliar country.
His eyes swept over the surrounding woods, and he wondered
where the watchers were that Lar had obliquely promised him.
Surely he would not be allowed to wander off on his own, not
when his heart still yearned so strongly for Qui-Gon. The
thought brought a surge of homesickness with it. He missed his
master, and all of the tumultuous fears and feelings he
suffered from could not change that.
A sudden movement to his left caught Obi-Wan's eye, and he spun
to face it. His heart seized as he saw Dram materialize out of
the trees. The man's dark hair and eyes made him appear a part
of the shadows that surrounded him, as if he were little more
than a wraith that had been born of them.
It took Obi-Wan a moment to find his voice. "I was just heading
back now," he said. There was a quiver in his voice that he did
not like, and he swallowed hard to banish it. "I'm sorry I
strayed so far from the inn. I didn't mean to."
"Of course you didn't." Dram moved forward with uncanny
silence. There was a sense about the man of danger and depth
and a slow, coiling rage, and Obi-Wan shivered as he felt the
weight of that fierce regard fall onto him. The small smile
Dram favored him with was chilling in a nonspecific way as he
reached out to touch Obi-Wan's hair.
Obi-Wan flinched away, his heart pounding. Despite his
reaction, there was a sense of inevitability to this encounter
that he could not describe. He was positive that it could not
be coincidence that it was Dram who had been assigned to follow
him.
"You clean up nicely," Dram said with a small smile, trailing a
finger down across Obi-Wan's cheek. Obi-Wan stared up at him
with wide eyes. "I can see why your master would be so taken
with you."
Obi-Wan couldn't believe what he was hearing. But neither could
he seem to find the wits to pull away. He felt chilled, frozen,
as if it was ice water instead of blood that pounded through
his veins.
Dram's voice lowered a notch, turning unabashedly intimate.
"You really are a beautiful little whore, you know that?"
Hearing those words broke Obi-Wan out of his paralysis. He
yanked away from Dram's touch with a feeling of dull panic,
clawing at the larger man's chest to shove him away. He cried
out as Dram's hand fisted in the hair at the back of his head,
pulling him forward again abruptly.
"What's the matter?" Dram sneered at him, black eyes hovering
just an inch over Obi-Wan's terror-stricken blue ones. "I
thought this was what you were used to, what you were pining
away after? Lar risks the entire secession over you, and all
you can think about is how much you want to go back to this?"
His other hand slid down over Obi-Wan's ass, pulling the
younger man's body tightly against his. "Does this feel more
like home to you?"
Obi-Wan was terrified to feel the erection pressing against his
lower stomach through the layers of their clothes. He was
stunned by the other man's anger. It had never occurred to him
that there might be those who disagreed with Lar's decision to
free him, who might object to the political ramifications of
his sudden inclusion in the life of their village. He struggled
against Dram's hold on him, turning his face away from the
heated caress of the man's breath, and felt the cold inside of
him deepen.
"Please," he whispered, struggling to free himself from other
man's grip. "Don't do this."
The blow came out of nowhere, knocking the breath out of him
when he fell to the ground. Obi-Wan landed hard on his shoulder
and rolled slightly to absorb the impact, wincing at the
unexpected pain. He cried out as his body was abruptly pinned
beneath the weight of the larger man.
A thick hand closed over his mouth, and Obi-Wan stared up at
his assailant, panic-stricken, struggling to breathe through
his nose. Dram's breath was hot on his face. Obi-Wan squeezed
his eyes shut, feeling tears slide out between his quivering
lashes. He had never felt so terrified in his life, so
completely overwhelmed and vulnerable to another's whims.
He lay there, crying, as Dram's other hand slid between their
bodies to caress the flesh between his legs. Obi-Wan's hips
bucked involuntarily, and he screamed low in his throat when
Dram pulled open the laces of his leggings, pushing futilely at
the weight that held him down.
"Is this what you want?" Dram murmured to him, bending down to
rub his stubbled cheek against Obi-Wan's. "Is this what you
laid in bed dreaming about last night, while the rest of us
couldn't sleep because all we could think about was retribution
from the capital? Do you have any idea what Lar risked to free
you?"
Obi-Wan felt himself go numb under the other man's touches. His
mind kept insisting that this was a nightmare, that it couldn't
be happening, but it *was* happening, and there wasn't a damn
thing he could do about it. And somehow, through his terror,
through his revulsion, a small, intrusive voice in his mind
insisted that he didn't have the right to fight it. Because
Dram was absolutely right - Obi-Wan *was* a whore, a shameless
pleasure slave in love with his master, and perhaps he didn't
deserve anything more in life than this, to be desired, to be
used, and when had he ever believed that he was entitled to
anything more?
A moment later, his thoughts turned to Qui-Gon, clinging to the
most powerful memories he had to distance himself from this
current horror. He thought about the way Qui-Gon had held him,
and made love to him, and it hadn't been anything like this.
Qui-Gon had never touched him with anything other than
gentleness and respect, had never made him feel anything other
than cherished, as if the world itself was nothing compared to
the time the two of them spent together. Never once had Qui-Gon
made him feel ashamed, or used, or hurt him in any way.
With a sudden surge of anger, Obi-Wan twisted under Dram's
crushing weight, sinking his teeth into the fleshy side of the
man's hand when it slipped down over his mouth. Dram let out a
hoarse yell and jerked his hand back, and Obi-Wan took
advantage of his distraction by shoving the man off of him and
sliding back across the leaf-strewn ground, pulling his robe
closed around him.
Dram's eyes were furious as he cradled his injured hand in
against his chest. "Slut," he spat out, shaking in his anger,
and took a half-step forward.
Obi-Wan skittered backwards, not taking his eyes from the man.
"I'll tell Lar what you did," he threatened, his voice shaking.
"I'll tell him you tried to rape me." His fingers were white-
knuckled where they held his robe closed across his chest. The
threat sounded lame even to him, but it was the only weapon he
had.
Dram sneered. "Who's he going to believe? Me, or the homesick
pleasure slave? As far as I'm concerned, you waylaid me in the
woods and asked me to console you over the loss of your
master."
Obi-Wan felt as if he had been punched in the stomach. There
was no reason for Lar to believe him. Even as the rational part
of his brain insisted that Lar would be fair, would know that
he wouldn't have done such a thing, the fear remained. His
vision blurred as he considered the ramifications of it.
He almost missed it when Dram started to move, but he managed
to avoid the other man's lunge and immediately wheeled to run.
Dram's hand closed around his arm, but before he could be borne
to the ground again, Obi-Wan brought up his knee in a purely
instinctual blow to the bigger man's solar plexus. Dram let go
of his arm immediately, stunned, and Obi-Wan hit him hard
across the side of the head.
Dram went down, and Obi-Wan ran. He could barely see through
the tears in his eyes, but he didn't stop to get his bearings.
The trees whipped by him in a smudgy blur as he ran, and ran,
until finally, he collapsed breathless against the side of a
tree.
He looked back over his shoulder immediately, tensed to fight
or flight, but there was no movement that he could see other
than the muted shiver of the branches in the breeze. Around
him, the woods were eerily silent.
Still feeling numb, Obi-Wan fumbled to retie the clasps of his
clothing, trying to forget the insistent memory of the other
man's touch. Once that was done, he stumbled toward a fallen
tree trunk and sat heavily, burying his head in his hands. It
took several minutes for him to get his breathing under
control, and he straightened, deliberately wiping the tears
away from his eyes as he took in the scene around him.
What was he supposed to do now? He couldn't go to Lar; who
would ever believe that a member of this supposed New Union had
tried to rape him? Obi-Wan was only a common bedslave, and all
of Lar's protestations to the contrary would not help the man
treat him any differently.
He certainly couldn't stay in Aragosa any longer, not knowing
that Dram was there waiting for him. Not knowing what they all
thought of him. The thought filled Obi-Wan with a sense of
biting despair. He was lost in the middle of a foreign country,
without friend or guide, and he had no idea whatsoever how to
get back to the palace where his master was waiting for him.
It surprised him to realize that he still wanted to go back to
Qui-Gon, although he wasn't sure why it should. His love for
his master still burned brightly within him, undimmed by all of
Lar's well-meaning arguments about ownership and masterly
affection. What it all boiled down to was the fact that Obi-Wan
was in love with Qui-Gon, and that he believed Qui-Gon loved
him. He was never happier than when he was by his master's
side, and he felt as if a piece of himself was missing when
they were apart. Perhaps Lar's motives were good, but it didn't
mean that he was right in every instance.
His decision made, Obi-Wan stood and started off into the
woods.
Qui-Gon did not turn as the servant brought him his tray. After
a heartbeat's pause, he heard the subdued clatter as the slave
set it down on the low table beside him. Immediately, the
tantalizing smells of spiced veal and fresh-baked bread
assailed him, and his stomach rumbled faintly, reminding him
that he hadn't eaten in quite some time.
A soft step behind him alerted him that he was not alone.
"Truly, Master Jinn, my soldiers are doing all that is in their
power to locate your missing slave."
Qui-Gon shifted slightly, narrowing his eyes at the view that
stretched away in front of him. Outside the wide window was a
spreading vista of unfathomable beauty - dark woods arranged
like a thick carpet over the surrounding hills, ornamented with
tendrils of morning mist. The sight of it made him feel cold
inside.
"I am aware of that, Sovereign," he said quietly, without
turning his head.
There was a small pause, and then Artzen Talilaeu stepped up
beside him. The man's short, dark beard looked especially
severe on his sharply delineated face.
"I, too, have lost slaves that were dear to me," the Samilian
leader said slowly, as if unsure how his words would be
received by the Jedi. "It happens, at times. Who is to say
who's at fault? We can blame them, for rebelling against our
rule, but truly we share an equal blame, for becoming
complacent in our love for them. We take them for granted, and
then one day they are gone. They do not understand the love
that we bear for them."
Qui-Gon's brow furrowed. It was unthinkable to even consider
that Obi-Wan did not know he was loved, that he was cherished.
And yet, Qui-Gon had to admit that he had treated the boy as
little more than the slave that he was since they'd arrived in
Samilia. This realization rankled in him, leaving a sour taste
in the back of his mouth.
He desperately hoped that Obi-Wan was safe. Wherever he was,
the boy had absolutely no experience in dealing with the world,
and Qui-Gon despaired that there would be those who would be
all too willing to take advantage of his padawan's innocence.
The thought that Obi-Wan might be exploited, abused, made
Qui-Gon almost blind with a seething, impotent rage.
But of course his features showed nothing. Qui-Gon was a Jedi
first and foremost, above everything else in this life that
held meaning for him. To run off after Obi-Wan now would place
these two opposing factions into the risk of civil war, and
that was something that Qui-Gon's conscience would not let him
do. Not even for Obi-Wan.
His helplessness choked him. *Be safe, my dear one,* he
thought, hoping that somehow, his wishes for his padawan's
continued safety and well-being would be heard and obeyed. The
vision of the landscape before him turned brittle as glass
before Qui-Gon's weary eyes, as if he could reach out and
shatter it with a single touch, if he so desired.
He refused to believe that Obi-Wan had chosen to leave him. It
was something that his heart could not accept, and he clung to
that hope in desperate self-preservation, knowing he would be
lost to the whirlwind without it.
After the negotiations here were concluded, he would go out in
search of his padawan, and he would not stop until he had found
him. Let Obi-Wan tell him to his face that he no longer wanted
Qui-Gon to be his master. Then Qui-Gon would believe it,
however much it pained him. But not until.
*I love you, Obi-Wan,* he sent out into that brittle landscape
of air and earth, choosing to believe that somewhere, somehow,
his padawan would hear and understand.
Deliberately schooling his thoughts to silence, he turned away
from the window and turned to face Artzen Talilaeu. It was time
for the negotiations to continue.
The sun had just dipped down below the level of the treetops
when Obi-Wan came to a tavern at the edge of the forest, framed
on two sides by a crossroads that looked fairly well-traveled
to his weary eyes. The air was chilled now with night's
approach, and he shivered inside his thin robe. He had been
walking for the better part of the day, not daring to rest for
fear of running into any of Lar's people, and he was exhausted.
A sign set up in front of the tavern proclaimed it "The Inn of
the Hunted Lord". This seemed to fit Obi-Wan's mood perfectly,
and he slipped inside as casually as he could, appropriating an
out-of-the-way table beside the fire.
The tavern was crowded on this autumn night, and Obi-Wan
hunched down inside the folds of his robe as he surveyed the
busy patrons around him. The fire felt good, its heat seeping
swiftly into his chilled skin, so that he felt almost
uncomfortably warm on his forward-facing side and chilled on
the other. No one seemed to be paying him any undue attention,
and for this he was grateful.
A sturdy barmaid approached him and asked if he wanted
anything to drink. Obi-Wan replied with a small shake of his
head. "I don't have any money," he said, wanting to discourage
her from approaching him again. "I just wanted to sit by the
fire for a moment. I won't stay long."
To his relief, she left him alone then, and he sank back into
his chair to stare morosely into the fire. He didn't know how
he was going to find Qui-Gon without asking for directions to
the Samilian capital, but he was afraid to do anything that
would draw attention to himself.
He tensed as a dark shadow fell across him and glanced up
sharply to see a tall, red-haired man standing beside his
chair. The man was slim yet solidly built, his features almost
fox-like in the incandescent firelight. He sat down in the
chair across from Obi-Wan and smiled.
"Hi," the stranger said in a friendly tone. "My name's Alun."
Obi-Wan watched him warily, pulling his robe tighter around
himself. His heart rate increased as he took note of the man's
proximity.
"I couldn't help but overhear that you don't have any money,"
Alun said. "That probably means that you don't have a place to
stay tonight."
Obi-Wan felt an uncomfortable tightening in his chest, but
still he said nothing.
Alun was not discouraged at all by his silence. He leaned
forward slightly, holding Obi-Wan's gaze. "I don't suppose
you'd be interested in making a few coins tonight, would you?"
His hand fell onto Obi-Wan's knee, stroking lightly.
Obi-Wan pulled his knee away, glowering. "No, thank you."
To Obi-Wan's dismay, the man didn't seem at all put out by his
lack of enthusiasm. "Oh, come on," Alun said with a knowing
smile, lowering his voice slightly. "A pretty thing like you
should be used to getting these kinds of offers. You look like
you haven't slept in a while. Haven't eaten. You been on the
road for a while, kid?"
Obi-Wan turned away, unresponsive, his heart thudding in his
chest. Was this always destined to happen to him, wherever he
went? Was this all that people saw when they looked at him? Was
he truly nothing more than a hole to fuck, a body to warm beds
with? He felt ill at the thought.
"You look like you're on the run from somewhere," Alun said to
him, lowering his voice even further. Obi-Wan's skin crawled at
the suggested intimacy of his tone. "You wouldn't happen to be
an escaped slave, now would you?"
Obi-Wan's head snapped back around at that. He glared, hating
the self-satisfied smirk that flitted across the man's face.
While Obi-Wan didn't exactly fear the Samilian authorities, he
was terrified of falling back into the hands of the New Union.
He doubted that Dram was the only one to resent his presence
here, and he expected that his pursuers would be willing to do
almost anything to insure that he didn't return to the capital
to accuse them of kidnapping, coercion, and attempted rape.
Maybe they would even kill him.
"Come on, kid," Alun urged, touching Obi-Wan's knee again
lightly. This time, Obi-Wan didn't pull away. "Come upstairs
with me and we'll see what I can do to help you."
"And if I don't?" Obi-Wan whispered, closing his eyes. He
already knew the answer to that question, however - he would be
turned in to the authorities as an escaped slave. And then
Lar's minions would find him. A single tear escaped from
between his lashes and trickled down his cheek.
Alun caressed Obi-Wan's knee in a smooth, seductive motion.
"Well," he said reluctantly, "I'll just let your imagination
deal with that one. But I don't think it's something we need to
talk about, now do we?" His voice was soft.
He stood up slowly then, pulling Obi-Wan up beside him. Obi-Wan
kept his eyes closed, and Alun wiped his tears away with a
light touch. Obi-Wan trembled under the gentle pressure of the
man's fingers.
"Come on," Alun said softly, smoothing his hand over Obi-Wan's
hair. "It's not that bad."
When Alun turned to leave, Obi-Wan stood there frozen a moment,
holding his robe tightly around him. No one was forcing him to
go with this man. He could just turn and leave, right now, and
take fate as it came. But he was tired, and hungry, and he
needed someone's help if he was ever going to find Qui-Gon.
*Whore,* his mind whispered to him in Lar's voice.
Taking a deep, shuddering breath to help still his tears,
Obi-Wan turned and followed Alun upstairs.
The room that Alun led him to was small but well-furnished,
with a comfortable-looking bed, a diminutive wardrobe closet
with an attached mirror, and a low table with two chairs. The
floor was smooth and well-polished, its center covered by a
bright, oval rug.
Obi-Wan stood frozen at the threshold of the room, trying to
fight the violent tremors that wanted to wrack through him. The
only light in the room came from a small candle on the bedside
table. Outside the single window, all was dark, and the square
pane of glass reflected the interior of the room in watery
outlines.
Alun had removed his cloak and thrown it over one of the
chairs. His tunic was a deep creme, and it accented the redness
of his hair to good advantage. His eyes were bright and eager
as he turned to face Obi-Wan, and there was something almost
predatory about them that made the younger man shiver. Dark and
grey, they glittered in the light of the candle.
Fox-eyes, Obi-Wan couldn't help but think. A chill passed
through him, and his gaze dropped to the man's slender hands.
He shuddered suddenly under the memory of other hands, less
graceful but no more welcome in their intentions against him.
"Come in," Alun urged. His voice was low and smooth, as if he
were attempting to coax a wild animal. "I'm not going to hurt
you. What's your name?"
Obi-Wan found himself responding to the enticement in that
voice without his conscious will. He was two steps into the
room before he was even aware of what he was doing, and he had
to force himself to stop.
"No," he whispered, dropping his gaze to the floor.
Alun took a slow step forward, mistaking Obi-Wan's reaction.
"I'll bet I'm more gentle than a lot of the other lovers you've
had lately." His voice was smooth and seductive. "Come on, kid.
At least tell me your name."
Obi-Wan almost laughed aloud at the assumption the other man
was making. 'Other lovers?' Was that all anyone ever thought
when they looked at him, that he was a whore? What did they see
in him that he was missing?
"No," he said again, more forcefully this time. His heart was
thudding in his chest.
This time, Alun caught the edge of steel hidden beneath the
word and frowned, his eyes narrowing dangerously. "Think about
this, kid," he said softly, giving Obi-Wan a level stare. "I'm
willing to help you out here, but you're going to have to help
me, too. Once you walk out that door, you're on your own
again."
Obi-Wan felt a surge of unexpected anger that Alun believed he
could be manipulated in this way. Despite the fear that was
strung through every cell in his body, Obi-Wan knew that he
could not do this, no matter what the consequences. It seemed
that the only power he had left to him was to determine who
would be allowed to touch his body, and he could not surrender
that power without giving up some vital part of himself. He was
not a whore, no matter what anyone else might think of him.
"I'm sorry," he said, blotting his palms against his robe and
trying to ignore the wild fear that twisted and writhed within
him. "I ... I thought I could do this. But I can't." Throwing
his pride to the wind, he suddenly raised his gaze and met
Alun's eyes squarely. "I need to get to the Samilian capital,"
he said, painfully aware of the desperation in his voice. "To
the palace. Please, help me."
Alun looked intrigued. "The capital, huh?" The predatory air
was still prevalent about him, but now it was chased by a new
emotion - curiosity. He perched one hip on the edge of the
table and crossed his arms. "I don't know too many escaped
slaves who want to go there."
Obi-Wan wondered how many poor, lost souls Alun had made this
exact offer to. The thought made him angry, and he met the
other man's gaze coldly.
"I'm not an escaped slave," Obi-Wan said firmly. "I am padawan
to Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn, of the Jedi Knights of Coruscant.
I was ... stolen," - his voice faltered on the word - "as a
political ploy in the ongoing secession negotiations between
Samilia and the New Union."
Alun's eyebrows hovered somewhere along the level of his
hairline. "A Jedi padawan." He laughed shortly, looking vaguely
disgruntled. He looked away suddenly, wiping his palms along
the front of his tunic. "Fuck, your master'd probably have my
hands cut off just for touching you."
Obi-Wan frowned, wondering at this attitude that seemed to be
so prevalent about the Jedi. Even Lar had been certain that
Obi-Wan was being abused, simply because he was a Jedi padawan.
"Help me," he said, putting his other concerns aside for the
time being. He took a slow step into the room, letting the
earnestness he felt show in his eyes. "Please, Alun. All I want
is to return to my master." He paused. "I'm sure you'll be
well-rewarded."
Alun licked his lips, and the muted glitter of his dark grey
eyes turned pointedly entrepreneurial as his gaze swept over
Obi-Wan's dark-robed form. "You'll tell him that I helped you?
That I didn't lay a hand on you?"
Obi-Wan nodded, wondering again at the fear that the name of
the Jedi could provoke. Qui-Gon had been right - Obi-Wan *was*
an innocent, and he knew absolutely nothing about the workings
of the world. Or even about his own people, it seemed.
"Do we have a deal, then?" he asked, surprised at his own
audacity in proposing this bargain between them. It felt
strange, to take command of his own destiny in this way. He
found, not surprisingly, that he liked it.
Alun regarded him cagily for a long moment. Then he nodded.
"Sure," he said with a note of finality, as if they had just
closed a business transaction. "We have a deal."
Alun reined in his horse at the edge of the city and paused at
the crest of the road, staring down at the palace that sat like
a glittering gem in the heart of the valley. "That what you
were looking for, kid?"
Obi-Wan's heart leapt when he saw the familiar citadel. It
looked like something out of a fairy tale, silhouetted against
the morning light. "Yes," he breathed, tightening his hands
around the saddle horn in front of him and leaning forward
eagerly, devouring the sight with his eyes. "That's what I was
looking for."
Alun prodded their mare's sides sharply with his heels, leg
muscles tensing against the backs of Obi-Wan's thighs. His arm
tightened around Obi-Wan's waist as the animal broke into a
rapid trot, holding Obi-Wan solidly against him as they made
their way down the slope of the road toward the distant sparkle
of the palace gates.
Now that he was actually here, Obi-Wan was terrified. He
didn't know what he was going to say to Qui-Gon, or how his
master was going to react to his padawan's sudden reappearance.
For the first time, Obi-Wan realized that he was really and
truly free. He could go anywhere he wanted, do anything,
without fear of censure or having to worry about what anyone
thought of him. The thought was vaguely terrifying in its
power, and he felt light- headed, torn as he pondered the
implications of it.
And yet, there was really no question of what he would do. Now
that he was truly free for the first time in his life, with a
world of choices spread out in front of him, there was only one
possibility that called out to him. His feet would only take
him in one direction, and that direction was back to the man
that he loved.
If Qui-Gon would have him.
The road to the palace was virtually deserted, and the few
passersby that they saw did not bother them. The soldiers who
stood watch behind the gate were dressed in glittering silver
armor, decorated with the whorls and delicately engraved crest
of the Samilian infantry. There was a flurry of activity among
the guards once Obi-Wan identified himself, and a runner was
dispatched immediately to the palace.
Obi-Wan waited tensely, patting absently at the side of the
mare's neck in front of him. Her skin was soft velvet under his
palm, warm and vibrant. The mare's coat was almost the exact
color of the tall spikes that adorned the tops of the palace
gates, dusky grey fading to dun in the rising sunlight. She
whuffed softly in acknowledgment of his attentions and cocked
her ear back at him curiously.
After what seemed a small eternity, the gates were opened.
Obi- Wan and Alun were asked to dismount, and then they were
led under guard up the narrow road to the palace. Obi-Wan felt
like a prisoner as the soldiers standing watch at the gate took
him under custody, but he did not protest their treatment of
him as they escorted him to the palace. He had grown accustomed
to such an attitude during his years as a slave, to the casual
degradation of being regarded as property, but now he seemed
hyperaware of each dismissing gesture and disrespecting glance
that was cast his way. Despite his desire to keep his thoughts
calm, it rankled on him.
They were held under guard in the main foyer of the palace
while Obi-Wan's master was summoned. The room was huge, its
gilded ceiling inlaid with glittering mosaics several stories
above them. The artwork and tapestries that decorated the room
were even more garish than Obi-Wan remembered, and he found it
even less pleasing than the first time he had been here.
He waited tersely, trying to control the rapid pounding of his
heart. A brief glance at Alun showed Obi-Wan that his companion
was as nervous as he was.
There was a subdued agitation outside in the hall, and Obi-Wan
froze, feeling a sudden and inexplicable reluctance to have
this confrontation. Taking a deep breath, he forced himself to
raise his gaze.
Qui-Gon stood framed in the wide doorway, his eyes wide and
filled with an emotion that defied definition as he stared at
his estranged padawan. His face could have been carved from
stone for all the emotion it showed, but tension fairly
radiated out of his tall frame.
The sudden silence in the room was palpable. With seeming
effort, the Jedi Master tore his gaze away from Obi-Wan to
stare at Alun. Immediately, something in his expression
darkened.
"Master." Obi-Wan took a half-step forward, reclaiming
Qui-Gon's attention. He kept his voice low and respectful, but
he did not lower his gaze. "I was kidnapped out of the palace a
week ago by ... insurrectionists who wanted to upset the
negotiations between Samilia and the New Union."
The lie galled him, but he could not bring himself to betray
Lar's involvement in his abduction. No matter what Obi-Wan's
personal feelings towards certain members of the New Union may
be, he believed that their cause was just. Their people
deserved the chance to pursue independence on their own terms,
without outside influence from Samilia or the Jedi.
"I managed to escape," Obi-Wan continued, without letting his
inner turmoil show, "and this man helped me return to the
capital. I would never have made it here without him."
Qui-Gon held Obi-Wan's gaze for a long minute, then glanced at
Alun again. Alun blanched beneath the heavy, appraising stare,
but he held his ground.
Finally, Qui-Gon nodded at the guard who stood nearest to him.
"See that this man is suitably rewarded, Captain. And then
escort my padawan to my quarters." Without another word, he
turned with a swirl of his voluminous robe and left the room.
Obi-Wan felt chilled. He stood unmoving as the captain of the
guard sent a runner to delve into the palace coffers. When the
man returned, he carried a black velvet pouch that clinked
tantalizingly when he held it out to Alun. Alun accepted it
with a long glance at Obi-Wan, and his eyes nearly bulged out
of their sockets when he opened it and caught sight of the
muted glitter of gold within.
Obi-Wan nearly laughed aloud. It seemed that the guards here
were well aware of the market value of a Jedi padawan.
Alun took his leave of the palace then, and he met Obi-Wan's
eyes with a subdued smile while he waited for the guards to
open the door. His eyes gleamed with an almost child-like
excitement as he clutched the small pouch close to his chest.
"Bye, Obi-Wan," he said, sounding for a moment as if he would
truly miss the younger man's company. His eyes flickered toward
the archway where Qui-Gon had disappeared. "Good luck."
Obi-Wan smiled in farewell as the guards came forward to lead
Alun away. He was desperately grateful when the man was gone.
The captain gestured for Obi-Wan to proceed him toward the
elegant staircase that swept upwards at the far side of the
foyer, and Obi-Wan submitted with a slight bow of his head.
Keeping his hands folded serenely inside the sleeves of his
robe, he kept his gaze affixed on the steps in front of him as
he ascended.
He was left alone in the suite that he and Qui-Gon had shared.
Had it only been a week ago? It felt like a lifetime, and Obi-
Wan let out a weary sigh as the captain ushered him inside and
then locked the door behind him. All was exactly as he had left
it, and he stifled a sob as he took in the familiar sense of
his master that hung like a lingering fragrance in the room.
Feeling strangely numb, he moved forward to stand at the
window, and his hands clenched white-knuckled around the
windowsill as he waited for his master to return.
A soft noise behind him made him turn. Qui-Gon stood frozen in
the doorway, his eyes dark and fathomless as he took in his
padawan's bedraggled appearance. Obi-Wan's eyes drank in the
sight of him greedily for a moment, feeling his heart pound in
mixed joy and terror as he met that unfathomable gaze. He
shivered as he felt his master's hard gaze rake over him, and
he lowered his eyes quickly, feeling the numbness inside of him
spread.
Without a word, Qui-Gon swept into the room and pulled Obi-Wan
into his arms. Obi-Wan flinched, half-expecting to be met with
anger, but Qui-Gon's arms were unexpectedly gentle as they slid
around him, crushing his body tightly to the taller man's
frame. Qui-Gon buried his face against his padawan's neck, and
Obi-Wan collapsed against him, stifling a sob against his
master's chest.
It took him a moment to realize that Qui-Gon was shaking, and
another moment after that to realize that his master was making
a soft, almost inaudible keening noise into his hair. Obi-Wan
instinctively wrapped his arms around the other man's waist,
squeezing him tightly, and felt Qui-Gon rock forward against
him, the grip around him tightening.
"I thought I had lost you," Qui-Gon whispered, his hands
moving to cup Obi-Wan's face. He pulled back far enough to look
down into Obi-Wan's eyes, rubbing his thumbs lightly over the
younger man's cheeks. The expression in his eyes was haunted.
Obi-Wan shook his head, unable to speak past the sudden lump
in his throat. He felt his eyes well up with tears and turned
his head away sharply, angry at himself for crying. When
Qui-Gon gently turned his face back to look at him, Obi-Wan
wiped at his cheeks with the back of one hand and forced a
small smile. "I have been doing far too much of this lately."
Qui-Gon's expression darkened at those words, and Obi-Wan
stiffened involuntarily, fearing that he had incurred his
master's displeasure. But then Qui-Gon bent to slide one arm
around the backs of Obi-Wan's knees, tightening the other
around his shoulders, and before Obi-Wan knew what was
happening, he was being lifted off the ground and hugged
tightly against Qui-Gon's chest. He slipped his arms around his
master's neck and held on tightly, feeling dizzy at the sudden
movement.
He made a small sound of protest as Qui-Gon carried him into
the adjoining bath, but Qui-Gon ignored him. He set Obi-Wan
down carefully on the carpet and then moved to start the water
running into the large tub, testing the temperature of the
water with the flat of his hand and adjusting it until a fine
cloud of steam began to rise into the room. Then he turned to
Obi-Wan again, and the strained lines between his eyes
deepened.
Obi-Wan stayed silent as Qui-Gon undressed him. His master's
fingers were light as they moved over his body, shedding his
clothes with quick efficiency and setting them aside. Obi-Wan
dropped his gaze, ashamed of his nudity suddenly, but Qui-Gon's
touch was coldly clinical as it moved over him, inspecting him
for injury and cataloguing each of the small hurts that Obi-Wan
had incurred during his time on the road.
Obi-Wan's skin crawled under the wordless appraisal in his
master's eyes. He kept his own gaze fixed firmly on the floor
between his feet, desperately wishing that he knew what his
master was thinking. Did Qui-Gon feel anger when he looked at
him? Disgust? Disappointment? Did he believe that Obi-Wan had
given himself to another? Or, worse still, did he feel nothing?
That thought chilled him most of all.
Qui-Gon's fingers brushed lightly across Obi-Wan's left
cheekbone, tracing the fading bruise where Dram had struck him.
Obi-Wan looked up, startled by the gentleness of the touch, and
felt his mouth go dry when he saw the depth of emotion that
churned in the other man's eyes.
"Who hit you?" Qui-Gon asked, his voice low.
Obi-Wan trembled under the subdued anger he heard in the
words. He held his master's gaze with wide eyes, unable to
speak.
Immediately, something harsh and primal chased across
Qui-Gon's eyes. He picked Obi-Wan up bodily and lowered him
into the bathtub, without waiting for a reply to his question.
Obi-Wan hissed as his body was immersed in the hot water, but
he made no other protest as Qui-Gon knelt beside him, reaching
for a washrag and a cake of soap to begin washing him. Obi-Wan
was surprised to see that the older man's hands were shaking.
"Master..." he managed to say at last, forcing the word out
past dry lips.
"Hush, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon interrupted him. Although his voice
shook, it sounded unbearably gentle. "Let me do this for you."
The gentleness in those words completely undid him. Obi-Wan
felt tears sting his eyes as Qui-Gon proceeded to scrub him
clean. Despite his fears, Qui-Gon handled him as if he were
something of infinite worth, something fragile and wonderful
that would break with the slightest mishandling. Obi-Wan closed
his eyes and allowed himself to relax under the soothing caress
of the big man's hands.
"I'm sorry," he whispered, unable to stand the silence between
them any longer.
He felt the shudder that moved through Qui-Gon when he said
it. After a moment, Qui-Gon said, "I am just glad to have you
back with me again, my love." The endearment made Obi-Wan
flinch despite himself. Softly, Qui-Gon asked, "Will you tell
me what happened?"
"I was kidnapped," Obi-Wan said quietly, hearing the unspoken
pain in his master's expectant silence. He kept his gaze firmly
affixed on the slow swirls of the water in front of him. "By
someone who has an interest in freeing oppressed slaves. He did
me no harm, Master."
There was a heartbeat's pause as Qui-Gon considered the
implications of this. "Was it someone you knew?"
Obi-Wan froze, remembering the expectant, hopeful gazes that
had greeted Lar Richein as he rode into Aragosa. Each of those
people had faith that their leaders would insure their
independence, that they would someday be able to venture forth
and make their own way in the world, without Samilian
interference. The very last thing they needed was the enmity of
the Jedi.
The silence between them grew to an almost unbearable
intensity before he found the breath to respond. "No," he
whispered.
He met Qui-Gon's gaze then and saw the understanding there.
The pain in those eyes was terrible to see. "And did you feel
oppressed, Obi-Wan? Did you feel that I was holding you here
against your will?"
Obi-Wan felt something cold twist deep inside his stomach, but
he refused to look away from his master's gaze. "No, Master,"
he said, feeling a deep ache spread through him, and it was a
worse pain than anything he had ever felt before in his life.
"All I could think of was how much I wanted to return to you.
But they wouldn't listen. They didn't understand, Master. They
thought they were doing good."
Obi-Wan was horrified to see the faint glimmer of tears in his
master's eyes. Qui-Gon turned his head away sharply, the
struggle to keep his emotions under control obvious in the
lines of his face. Obi-Wan ached to reach out and comfort him,
but he didn't dare.
"There's more," Obi-Wan said, hating himself for saying it but
knowing that he would never be able to live with himself if he
did not. The memory of the doubts and fears that had plagued
him during his time in Aragosa was eating away at him,
demanding absolution. "When I escaped from ... the kidnappers
... I realized that I had no way of returning to you on my own.
I found solace at an inn, but I had no money. That's where Alun
found me. He offered to help me, but I..." He trailed off,
unable to say the words.
A tremor passed through Qui-Gon's shoulders, and his
expression turned completely impassive, shielding his emotions
away behind the mask of serenity that he utilized so well. A
single tear broke free of his lashes and trickled down the skin
of his cheek, moistening the upper edge of his beard. "He used
you." The words were a harsh whisper.
Obi-Wan winced as if he had been struck. "No, Master," he said
softly. Around him, the water was starting to cool, leeching
the heat from his body. He could not meet his master's eyes.
"But he ... he wanted to. And I couldn't help but think that it
was all I'm good for, to be desired in that way. I mean, I know
that I'm your padawan, and that this is the life I have. But a
part of me couldn't help wondering if ... if there's ever going
to be something other than this for me."
For a moment, Qui-Gon didn't say anything. Then, "Oh,
Obi-Wan." He looked away sharply, struggling to get his
emotions under control. Then he surprised the younger man by
grabbing hold of his chin and tipping his face up to look at
him. Obi-Wan stared up at him with wide eyes.
"I should have made this clear to you before we ever left
Coruscant," Qui-Gon said hoarsely. His eyes as they gazed down
at Obi-Wan were very blue. "You are not under any obligation to
accept an unwelcome touch from anyone, not even me. Not even
me," he repeated firmly. "It's true that you are my padawan,
but you are also the man that I love. You have value as your
own person, no matter what I or anyone else may think of you.
And to me you are of infinite worth. If anything were ever to
happen to you, it would destroy me."
"You speak as if I am your equal," Obi-Wan breathed, closing
his eyes under the heat of the other man's hand.
"As you have always been," Qui-Gon answered. He stroked his
thumb heavily along Obi-Wan's jaw, his voice lowering to a
harsh whisper. "I love you, Obi-Wan. It was never my intention
to force you into anything."
Obi-Wan felt tears rise into his eyes. "I know," he whispered,
leaning into his master's touch. "You never did. That's what I
tried to tell them. I love you, Qui-Gon."
Qui-Gon bent to touch his forehead lightly to Obi-Wan's,
closing his eyes on a sigh. "I would have kept you innocent
forever, if it were possible," he said, his voice soft and full
of regret. "My beautiful Obi-Wan."
Obi-Wan trembled, feeling the last of his fears fall away like
broken chains around him. He was loved, he was cherished, and
there was nothing in the world he wanted more than to be this
man's padawan. Along with Qui-Gon, he mourned the innocence
that he had lost; he had ventured out into the world and come
face-to- face with its less savory facets: Ambition. Hate.
Lust. Greed. These things were a part of him now, because it
was impossible to be touched by such influences and not be
changed by them.
*Change is not an easy thing to accomplish, Obi-Wan. Sometimes
it comes at great price ... and with much sacrifice.*
A part of him wished that he could return to the chrysalis he
had inhabited before coming to Samilia. During his time here,
his eyes had been opened to a world that was colder and more
fragile than anything he could possibly have imagined. For all
the increased possibilities that it offered him, he couldn't
help but miss the simple innocence of his childhood.
Once left behind, however, the idealism of youth could never
be regained. Obi-Wan acknowledged this, mourned it, and then
... accepted it. When he did so, he was rewarded with a feeling
of sweeping euphoria. Strangely enough, his spirit had never
felt more free.
Very carefully, Qui-Gon's hand moved under Obi-Wan's arm to
help him out of the bathtub. Obi-Wan stepped out of the cooling
water gratefully, smiling into his master's eyes as Qui-Gon
wrapped him in the supple length of a large towel. Qui-Gon's
hands were gentle as they moved over him, drying him with
exquisite care.
When he was finished, Qui-Gon pulled Obi-Wan against him and
wrapped his arms around the smaller man's body, one hand
smoothing restlessly over the towel that covered his back. Obi-
Wan felt his master sigh heavily, and something deep within him
stirred to life with uncomfortable ease.
Sensing his padawan's sudden discomfort, Qui-Gon pushed
Obi-Wan away slightly and looked down seriously into his eyes.
"What is troubling you?" he asked.
After a moment, Obi-Wan cleared his throat with a glimmer of
residual apprehension. "I don't want to have sex today," he
said, with deliberate precision.
Qui-Gon smiled at him. "Then we will not."
Obi-Wan swayed, closing his eyes. Only Qui-Gon's strong hands
kept him upright as a tide of awe-tinged relief crashed over
him. Those four words were so exquisitely simple, but they
meant more to him than the entire world.
Qui-Gon's hands were gentle as they led him back out of the
bathing area and into the main bedroom, wrapping the towel
carefully around Obi-Wan's body as they went. "If you do not
wish to make love, my dear one," he said, insistent in his
desire to have Obi-Wan understand, "then we will not. It has
always been so between us."
"But we are." Obi-Wan leaned heavily against his master's
strong form, fighting against the weariness that enveloped him.
He was so unbearably tired; he couldn't even keep his eyes open
anymore. Freshly bathed and warmed, and feeling safe for the
first time in far too long, the stresses and challenges of his
long journey were finally catching up to him.
"I don't understand." Qui-Gon's voice was soft.
Obi-Wan smiled, not opening his eyes. "We make love every
moment of every day that we're together. We're making love
right now."
Qui-Gon pulled him close in a possessive hug. "I love you,
Obi- Wan."
Obi-Wan clung to him tightly. "I love you, Qui-Gon." He felt
Qui-Gon pick him up, the towel sliding away from his quiescent
form as he was lifted into the other man's arms, but then the
pull of weariness fell irresistibly over him.
He was asleep before his master set him down on the bed.
It was two weeks before they stood together to take their
leave of the Samilian palace. After much discussion and
capitulation, Talilaeu had agreed to allow the secession of the
New Union, under the provision that it would pay tribute to
Samilia for a set number of years beyond the founding of its
new democracy. The details were lost to Obi-Wan, but he found
comfort in the knowledge that Lar Richein and his people had at
last found the freedom they so loved.
Qui-Gon's eyes were warm on him as he loaded their luggage
into the coach that stood waiting at the head of the palace
drive. The spirited black horses that the Jedi Master preferred
stamped their hooves and whickered impatiently, eager to be on
the road.
Artzen Talilaeu had come out to witness their departure. The
New Union representatives, eager to spread the news of their
new autonomy, had already left for their home villages. Obi-Wan
strongly suspected that they simply did not want to be around
him or his master any longer than necessary. It reaffirmed his
suspicions that they were well aware of what their leader had
done in the name of freedom, although he took care to keep such
thoughts to himself.
Qui-Gon accepted the Samilian sovereign's accolades
graciously, and Obi-Wan stepped up behind him once he had
finished with the baggage. Talilaeu's eyes shone in the bright
morning light; obviously, the man believed that his people had
come out ahead in the settlement that Qui-Gon had achieved for
them. Obi-Wan smiled inwardly as he considered the fact that
Lar and his people would doubtlessly feel the same about their
own end of the arrangement.
When they had taken their leave of the party that had gathered
to see them off, Qui-Gon extended his hand to help Obi-Wan into
the coach ahead of him. Obi-Wan caught a sense of strong
disapproval in the expressions of the assembled Samilians, and
his smile became more evident as he settled onto the seat.
Qui-Gon's eyes were amused as he sat down beside him.
"Something amuses you, my padawan?"
Obi-Wan smirked openly. "No, my Master."
Qui-Gon grinned. "Good." With an effort, he pulled the door
shut behind him and then tapped the roof to signal the driver
that they were ready to depart. "I would hate to think that it
surprises you to see me treat you as my lover, instead of my
slave."
Obi-Wan felt a surge of warmth move through him. His smirk
faded into a contented smile, and he knew that Qui-Gon would be
able to read the open adoration in his gaze. "Yes, my Master."
Qui-Gon slid as arm around Obi-Wan's shoulders, and Obi-Wan
leaned in close against him as the carriage jolted around them.
The view outside the windows began to slide smoothly past as
the carriage moved forward down the hill.
"I believe I've had enough of Samilia, Master," Obi-Wan said
as they passed through the front gates of the palace grounds.
His gaze was pensive as he stared out the window across from
him.
"So have I, my love." Qui-Gon pulled him even closer and
kissed the younger man soundly on the side of the head. Obi-Wan
had to suppress the shiver of desire that moved through him at
his master's touch.
Qui-Gon smiled against his padawan's hair. "Let's go home."
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