Disclaimer: Well George owns Star Wars and the characters and
the word Jedi, so I guess I should cover my ass here and
mention his prior claim, but I doubt he'd recognize this
version of the lads. Warning: semi non-cons stuff may on here.
Feedback: Please! The great thing about adopting bunnies is
that they lead you in directions you might not have gone.
That's also the hard thing about them; you never know if you're
any good at going in that direction.
Other Stuff: Mac's fault this time. She was attacked by this
bunny: ((So I thought to myself, what about a story where -
somehow - the boys get transported back to the days when the
Jedi were still just a contemplative order (i.e. peaceful,
non-aggressive monk-like) and perhaps our Obi-Wan is a novice
of this order, and - equally somehow - Qui-Gon is some sort of
primitive King or General who takes a fancy to our young Jedi
novice...)) and passed it along and there I was, suddenly taken
by the idea of Obi in brown robes and Qui in early armor (or
armour for those who prefer British Standard English) . . . and
. . . I've got bunny teeth marks on my ankles.
I envision this world as being similar to Europe as it slowly
climbed out of the Dark Ages, more specifically, the time of
Charlemane. There are a lot of differences, but it's one world
and there are no aliens or technology.
Oh yeah, this is for Mac, who better get to work on Rogue
Trader
The novices were frightened, and, Brother Obi-Wan thought, they
had good reason to be. He moved along the rows of student
carrels, projecting an image of calm serenity. When he heard
whispering from a carrel ahead of him, he strode quickly, but
soundlessly, to where two young students leaned over the narrow
aisle to talk. Obi-Wan said nothing, merely stood there until
both boys were aware of his presence. It took more time for
them to notice him than it should have and he frowned.
When they did notice him, they looked up at him with
wide scared eyes and he wanted to take them into his arms and
comfort them. Instead, he gave them the signs to continue
studying. He would see them after the Hours of Silence and
assign them additional tasks for breaking the silence. He
glanced around the room and everywhere heads quickly bent over
scrolls and books, the brief excitement over.
"They are just boys, Master Abbot," Obi-Wan said later. "And
one of them, Marwn, is a lay student. They are afraid."
"And you, Brother? Are you afraid?"
"Yes Master, as are most of us here. I gave them three extra
chapters to read for tomorrow," he added in a vain attempt to
turn the discussion away from his fear.
"And do you think I am afraid, Brother?"
Obi-Wan looked at the dark serene features of the Abbot. "I do
not know, Father Mace. Is it easier to face this fear, having
once been a warrior?"
The abbot looked down at his most promising pupil for a long
moment. "No, Obi-Wan," he finally replied softly, "it is much
more difficult."
Those green-blue eyes stared at him, wide with shock, and
Father Mace spread his hands. "Without knowing fear, we cannot
be free of it. Let us meditate on the nature of fear, Padawan."
"Yes Master," Obi-Wan replied, trying not to blush at the honor
of being called "Beloved Student" in the ancient tongue.
Murmuring the ancient words of the Litany for Conquering Fear,
both men turned their gazes inward, neither noticing as they
each rose several inches above the sparse mats they'd been
sitting on. Both remained still for hours and might have
remained so all night if a young novice had not broken their
silence with a tap on the Abbot's door. As each man settled
down into himself again, the Abbot bade the novice to enter.
"Father Abbot," the boy said. "The outriders from the Envoy's
party have arrived. The Envoy will be here within the hour."
And so it was that Obi-Wan found himself pouring wine for the
King's Envoy and the various Masters of the Jedi Brotherhood.
Once the wine was poured, he retreated to the shadows of the
room's darkest corner, and waited in case he was needed. Being
allowed to remain in the room during a meeting like this was
another sign of the Abbot's trust in his student, but to feel
any pride over that would not occur to Obi-Wan. A Jedi might
feel pride in the works of his fellow brothers, or the Order,
as a whole, but individual pride was contrary to the Way of the
Light.
Sometimes Obi-Wan wondered how it was for those, such as the
Abbott, who entered the order after living as adults in the
outside world. Master Mace's connection to the Living Force
that surrounded everything in existence had come as the result
of an injury on a battlefield. He had told Obi-Wan of how he
had been sure he was going insane as well as dying before a
wandering Jedi brother felt his presence and brought him to the
Temple.
Obi-Wan himself had been left on the doorstep of the temple in
a bundle of fabric, a tiny babe with nothing to indicate his
parentage. The only thing he did know was that the cloth he was
wrapped in had been sturdy but not costly, and that it had been
heavy with the smell of smoke. He wondered if his parents, or
one of them, had been burned as a witch in one of the many
districts that still feared those who were connected to the
Force.
In fact, that was what the Envoy, a Lord Varin was discussing
with the Abbott.
"His Majesty is pleased that there have been far fewer witch
burnings since he made it known that he supports your order."
"As are we," the Abbott replied in a dry voice.
"Well, yes," Varin said smoothly. He smiled in a way that
Obi-Wan assumed was meant to be reassuring and friendly. Didn't
the man know that he was radiating his contempt for his
surroundings and the company? Varin wore a richly embroidered
tunic of green silk, with a gold silk undertunic and leggings.
His belt was trimmed with gold, as was the sword at his hip.
Rings decorated his left hand and four green gems were placed
in a neat line up his earlobe. It is easy to see why this
bright bird of a man would feel disdain for the Jedi sitting in
a sparely decorated room in their plain brown robes.
"And now," Varin continued, "my lord the King is calling in the
favor."
"Is he?" The Abbott's voice was mild, but Obi-Wan could feel
the stone beneath those even tones.
"Yes, he is." Varin didn't even bother to hide the hardness of
his own tone and Obi-Wan suddenly felt a flash of fear.
Fear leads to anger, he reminded himself, letting the
rest of the litany run through his head as he released the fear
through himself and into the Force.
"His Majesty requires one of your order to attend him at
court."
"To what possible purpose?" Mother Depi asked.
"It would be very helpful if the King were to have someone who
could . . . shall we say, give him an advantage in
negotiations."
"The Jedi do not use their power to bend the minds of others
against their will," Depi said firmly.
"Regardless of what you think you know of the King, Mother, he
is far more subtle than most give him credit for," Lord Varin
replied with some heat. "He asks not for one who would be so
crude as to change men's minds, but for one who would be able
to see truth from lies . . ."
"And how long," Father Mace asked, his quiet smooth voice
cutting through Varin's words, "would such an individual last
at court without going insane? And how many enemies would this
man or woman of peace make before the first banquet was over?
Will the King want a new Jedi every time his old one is knifed
in a hallway or poisoned by an angry ambassador?"
Varin looked around the room, licking his lips, his fear
evident on his face. Obi-Wan actually felt some sympathy for
the man; it could be hard to confront a truth, particularly
when Abbott Mace was dealing it out. The courtier glanced at
his hands for a moment and then sighed. Reaching into his pouch
he pulled out a letter. In the sparse surroundings of the
Abbott's parlor, the crimson seal on the letter shone like
blood. As Varin handed it to the Abbott, a ray of sunshine
caught the seal, and Obi-Wan's world went red.
The red of blood, of heat, of fire burned his eyes. Red as
Sovarian wine, red as passion, red as a rose petal against snow
. . . He was burning, dying, being birthed, and all around him
the roar of this red tide washed over him, until he screamed,
and fell to the floor in a faint. Through the red mist that
surrounded him as his eyes flickered closed, he saw his Master
staring at him with deep sorrow in his eyes.
He saw the same thing when he awoke: the Abbott looking at him
with an expression of sympathy and pain. Breaking that
difficult gaze, Obi-Wan looked around. He was in the Infirmary
and Mother Depi standing on the other side of his bed.
"Did I say anything?" he asked. He usually didn't when in the
grip of a future vision, but this had been like no vision he'd
ever had. He licked lips gone dry and Mother Depi held out a
cup. Obi-Wan drank all of the herb mixture and grimaced a
little at the taste.
"No, Obi-Wan," Father Mace replied. "You just stared at the
King's letter and screamed. And then you passed out." His
unspoken question hung in the air.
Obi-Wan nodded, closed his eyes for a moment, trying to banish
his fatigue some. Mother Depi laid a gentle hand on his
shoulder and he could feel a rush of her Healing strength move
through him in a gentle wave.
"Thank you, Mother," he said, and then began to sit up. The
other two Jedi quickly helped him arrange his pillows, until he
was propped up in the low bed. Then they both sat on the floor
and waited.
"I saw red . . ." Obi-Wan began. "No, that's not quite it. I
was red. The color itself, will all the meaning behind
it."
"All what meaning?" the Abbott asked.
"All the things red symbolizes . . . blood and fire and passion
and . . . " Obi-Wan spread his hands. "I can't really explain
it more than that. I was red and I died and was re-made."
Mace traded a quick glance with Depi, and then looked back down
at the Order's most promising and most dangerous student. Mace
had only been at the Temple for a year when the Obi-Wan was
left on the doorstep, but he knew that the Abbott at the time
had foreseen that the foundling would bring great change to the
Order. Others, including Mace himself, had seen flashes of
change brought on by the boy's presence, but none of them could
say whether the change was for good or for ill or for both.
And so they'd pushed the lad as hard as they could, trying to
install all the Jedi Virtues in him and never letting him
forget of the Dark Side's seductive omnipresence. He'd soaked
up the lessons like a sponge and asked for more, until it
seemed there was nothing he didn't know. And yet, this powerful
young man whose aura practically blinded anyone with
Force-sight was strangely innocent and gentle. Although he
despaired of his mistakes and his occasional moments of anger
or fear, he was less inclined to the Darker emotions than
anyone else in the Temple.
And I'm going to throw him into the bearpit, the Abbott
thought, despairingly. Force help me.
He looked up to see those curiously changeable eyes staring at
him steadily. There was no sign of weakness on the boy's face,
no indication that he'd been unconscious for half a day.
"You're sending me to court, aren't you?" Obi-Wan asked.
"It seems I have to," Mace replied. "The King has threatened .
. ." his voice trailed off as Obi-Wan reached out and touched
his shoulder.
"The reasons do not matter, my Master. Once I saw the seal on
the King's letter, I knew I was going to be the one to go." He
bowed his head for a moment and then lifted it and smiled at
the Abbott. "Do not be worried Master; I am a Jedi. I exist to
serve the Path of the Light."
Mace nodded, but, later that night, after the arrangements had
been made for Obi-Wan's departure with the Envoy, the Jedi
Abbott sat in his quarters struggling with the guilt of
following his own vision and sending a young saint into a world
of sinners.
Sometimes, Qui-Gon Jinn thought as he leaned back in his
bath, letting an attendant wash his hair, it's good to be
King. He felt the girl's breasts, through her damp dress,
brush against his back, and he wondered, idly, if he had time
to send everyone out and . . .
There was a tap on the bathroom door and before Qui-Gon had
time to respond, his squire Son-Ave stuck his head through the
door. "You asked me to remind you about the Council meeting
this morning, Your Majesty."
"Fine," Qui-Gon growled, "you've reminded me. Now get out."
"Uh . . . Her Majesty wished to know when the ambassadors from
Kasitland are arriving, my lord."
"How the hell do I know?" the king responded, watching as the
young squire flinched. Damn boy had no backbone, even if he was
Qui-Gon's sister's son and the heir to the throne. "Tell her
tomorrow at the earliest, more likely the next day."
"Yes, Your Majesty." Son-Ave bowed and started backing out the
door.
"Son-Ave!" the king yelled.
"My lord?"
"Has my Jedi arrived?"
"Not yet, my lord. Captain Manin got a message from Lord Varin
saying that he expected to be here this afternoon."
Qui-Gon snorted and waved the boy away. Varin was another of
these soft court-bred toadies. Oh he was good for running
errands, but show him real combat, the kind of day-in day-out
fighting that had won Qui-Gon his throne, and he'd probably
faint dead away.
Just like my boneless heir, he thought glumly. The
boy doesn't deserve that squire's braid; any real soldier can
see that. My son won't be like that; I'll train him right, the
way I was trained.
He sighed and rose from the tub, aware that his attendants had
finished while he was brooding. He didn't even look at the
young woman as he strode to his bedroom to dress. Fun in the
bath would have to wait for another day.
As they neared the capital, Lord Varin was more and more sure
that the Jedi Abbott had tricked him. Although the old man had
said that this Brother Obi-Wan was one of the best of the
Order, Varin found the young man to be a bit of a fool. He even
found himself wondering if the boy was a little simple. There
was something about his silence and the way he looked at
things, as if seeing more than Varin or anyone else could see
that made him seem almost otherworldly. There was also, Varin
realized with some sympathy, an aura of terrible fragility
about him, in spite of the compact lean form, and the physical
strength the young man had exhibited more than once on the
journey.
"How strange," Obi-Wan now said quietly. Varin reined in his
horse and nudged it closer to the horse Obi-Wan rode. "That you
can find some sympathy for me. While I appreciate the
sentiment, I need no sympathy, Lord Varin. I was actually quite
content with my life at the Temple, although I welcome a chance
to see more of the world."
Varin stared at him in shock.
"I am sorry, my lord, but your thoughts were so loud. I am
neither simple, nor fragile, I assure you. My Master did not
set out to trick His Majesty, but merely sent me because I was
the one meant to go."
"What," Varin asked warily, "do you mean by that?"
"Both Father Mace and I saw it. The Force wishes me to be at
court and so I'm going to court."
Against his better judgment, Varin decided to dispense a bit of
advice. "That sort of statement won't go over well at court.
People are still . . . wary of . . . your kind."
"I know that, and yet, the king calls me to court to be a Jedi.
Are you telling me not to be one?"
"Perhaps you could be a . . . less obvious Jedi."
The young brother smiled at him, an open smile with none of the
deceit or guile of the court.
"A less obvious Jedi? How, my lord, can I be that? I am the
only kind of Jedi I know how to be. Does the king not wish me
to use my skills?"
"I wouldn't presume to know His Majesty's mind," Varin replied.
"I'm hardly one of his inner circle." Why was it so easy to say
things like this to this stranger?
"And that bothers you?"
"I'm loyal," Varin protested, drawing a surprised look from
Obi-Wan, "but I served at the court when Her Majesty ruled
alone." He hoped that the Jedi brother knew at least a little
recent history.
"Ah. And so the king would be inclined not to trust you, just
as you would be inclined to resent his presence upon the
throne. But surely you must know that he trusts you. Even an
ignorant Jedi right out of the Temple knows that the position
of Royal Envoy is hardly a sinecure."
Varin shot an amused glance at the young man. "You might make
it after all; part of that sounded like a courtier's line."
"I was simply telling the truth as I know it."
"That will never do at court."
"I am a Jedi, my lord," the brother stated matter-of-factly. "I
tell no lies."
"Then, Brother Obi-Wan, you are either a fool, or the bravest
man I know."
"Perhaps," came the very quiet reply, "I am both."
Obi-Wan didn't quite know where to look when they reached the
city walls. As they passed through the great Eastern Gate, the
noise and smell of a large city struck him and he had to draw
on his connection to the Force in order to deal with the
onslaught. The Force was here as much as it was anywhere, but
the distractions in between Obi-Wan and the serenity he was
reaching for were as hard as any test his Master had ever come
up with.
He found his serenity, however and was soon able to look
around. What he saw shook his hard won peace almost instantly.
The students, particularly the lay students, often spoke of
Coures as if it were a magical place, a city of palaces and
gardens, of fountains and the great Red Keep. As a child,
Obi-Wan had been more than curious and had yearned to travel to
this wonderful place.
At the moment, it didn't seem so wonderful. It smelled, for one
thing, the smell of too many unwashed bodies in one space with
improper sanitation for all of them. And it was dirty, hardly
the Jewel of the Kingdom he'd been told about. There were no
palaces to be seen near the walls, just hovels and shacks far
worse than anything he'd ever seen even in the poorest of the
farming districts.
And the people . . . How could anyone simply ride by as his
escort was doing and not want to stop and help these people? He
looked at Varin in astonishment.
"Who are these people?" Obi-Wan asked. "Has there been an
influx of refugees from some war or plague in the west?"
"These people?" Varin looked around. "Brother Obi-Wan, every
city has its poor. Don't worry, we'll soon be past them. Move
us along Sergeant," he called forward to the head of their
escort.
Obi-Wan looked from the gold and gems worn by Varin to the
figure of a woman who was looking at the soldiers with
speculation in her eyes. Her face was a mask of seduction, but
what he could see of her Force aura was gray with despair. For
a moment, a touch of anger worked its way through Obi-Wan's
hard earned serenity. How could Varin, a well meaning, if vain,
man, just ride by and do nothing?
His own anger shocked Obi-Wan and he found himself thinking,
Anger leads to hate. Hate leads to suffering. And suffering
leads to the Dark Side. He repeated it several times,
reaching for the calm he needed, letting his anger and worry
flow out into the Force. He would not forget these people, but
he would not allow his compassion for them to turn into anger
against those more fortunate. Perhaps the court had lived at
Coures so long that they no longer saw the problem. Surely
there was some way he could help these people and keep his own
integrity and act as the "King's Jedi," whatever that entailed.
By the time he was calm, they had reached a much more
prosperous part of town. Here the houses were neat and well
built, with most of them centered on squares and plazas. Now he
saw the gardens and the fountains, and the air smelled more of
flowers than it did of unwashed bodies. Perhaps, he
thought, this is all our lay students saw. Most of them come
from wealthy families, after all.
And then they turned onto a broad avenue, moving under a great
arch, one that surely dated from the Time of the Ancients, and,
looking up the avenue, Obi-Wan saw the Red Keep of King Qui-Gon
Jinn for the first time.
If words like strength, power, permanency, and might could be
embodied in a building, the Red Keep was that building. Secure
within its own set of walls, the great drum towers and walls of
the building were fashioned out of the prized red granite that
came from the great quarries to the south of the kingdom. Even
Obi-Wan knew that no one else in Coures had ever been allowed
to use red granite in construction.
For a second, Obi-Wan had a flash of the red vision, but it was
fleeting and left him with nothing more than feeling of change
and that he was riding on a cusp. And I know that
already, he thought. Still, he bowed his head, thanking the
Force of the Light for the further insight.
The king was walking the walls, something he did at odd times
throughout the day. It kept the guards on their toes, and it
got him out into the fresh air and away from the Council with
its petty concerns and annoying courtiers. And then there was
Her Majesty, his own wife, who wore her smoldering resentment
like a cloak. Damn woman, Qui-Gon thought, for at least
the thousandth time, she asked me here. I ended the wars
against her, saved her pretty neck and the necks of her whole
court, and all she has for me is the contempt they all have.
Oh, they try to hide it, but . . .
Resting an elbow on a crenallation, he gazed absentmindedly
into the courtyard below. Once it had been easy, once he had
known what to do and when to do it. His luck, he'd
thought, a gift from the gods. That luck had told him to accept
the offer of a desperate woman with a kingdom to protect, and
that luck had led him, time and again, to turn the tide of
battle at just the right time.
And now? Now that luck had abandoned him, leaving him trapped
in a keep full of people who wished he'd died in that final
battle. He had a wife who was bearing his child, but who
disliked him, and a life that so often seemed empty of the
simpler pleasures he'd known as the greatest mercenary of his
time. Having a girl or young man in the bath hardly compared to
the battlefield, where his clear vision and his luck enabled
him to emerge having killed as few men as possible while still
winning clear victories.
You're acting like a child, Qui-Gon Jinn, he told
himself. It's time to grow up and accept life as it is.
This depressing though was interrupted by the clatter of hooves
in the courtyard and he looked down.
Brother Obi-Wan looked around the busy courtyard with intense
curiosity. So many people bustling about, and yet it was
nothing like the scene near the city walls. These people all
radiated a sense of purpose, and aside from the fact that some
of them seemed to resent their purpose, it rather reminded him
of home, only on a far larger scale.
And then he felt it. A strong burst of unhappiness and
resentment radiated from somewhere above him. Who here, he
wondered, could be so lonely and so tormented? More
importantly, who here could be so sensitive to the currents of
the Force as to be able to broadcast so strongly and yet not be
able to shield at all?
Qui-Gon looked more sharply at the riders drawing up in the
courtyard. There was something very strange down there,
something bright, yet contained, like a candle in a lantern. He
felt his luck, quiet for so long, stir around him. He stared
more intently and . . .
Obi-Wan looked up, focusing the Force, and met the dark blue
eyes of a man. He had a vague impression of plain clothing,
long gray touched bronze hair, but mostly he saw the Force
signature of the man, pearl gray, as if he had touched
Darkness, and yet somehow come through it. But it was an uneasy
peace that this man had, a dangerously unstable balance.
You're why I'm here, he thought simply, knowing it in
that instant.
Brightness, a pure silver brightness, met Qui-Gon's eyes. He
could see a man in brown robes at the center of the brightness,
and he stared harder, focusing his eyes as he had once done in
battle.
He got the impression of blue/green eyes with the clarity of
fine glass, but most of his mind reeled from the sound, unheard
but a sound nonetheless, of a voice saying, You're why I'm
here.
And then, the man in the brown robe was gone, hustled into the
castle by someone Qui-Gon belated recognized as Lord Varin, and
Qui-Gon was alone again on the battlements.
My Jedi, he thought, unwilling to admit, even to
himself, how shaken he was by the contact. No one warned me
he'd have a face like a god's. His mind was supplying him
with details now, the fine skin bronzed a little from the sun,
the firm chin with its cleft, a patrician nose that had never
met the haft of a battle ax, and those eyes, so like the sea on
a cloudy day . . . And yet all these parts seemed like nothing
compared to the whole beauty of the young man.
"My Jedi," the king said, out loud this time. "All
mine." Turning, he raised his voice and summoned a page.
Obi-Wan pushed the thought of the man on the battlements to the
back of his mind as a page appeared to show him to his rooms.
When he saw the quarters assigned to him he was sure there was
some mistake, however the boy assured him that this was where
the king wanted him. Looking a little lost, the young monk
turned to Varin.
"His Majesty must think highly of your Order," the lord told
him. "He must have plans for you, Brother." There was a warning
note in Varin's voice, and Obi-Wan couldn't help remembering
the Abbott asking about the safety and sanity of the "King's
Jedi."
"I don't know what to do with all this space," he admitted.
Varin looked around. "There's a bathroom; you could start with
a bath. We were on the road for several days."
"And I am well aware of it, believe me," Obi-Wan replied
ruefully. As Varin turned to go, Obi-Wan held out a hand to
stop him.
"Thank you for your help and advice, Lord Varin." He moved his
hand in the Gesture of Blessing, which was supposed to
represent a wave rolling on the ocean. "May the Force be with
you."
Varin felt an odd feeling of peacefulness flow over him and he
smiled, a genuine smile. "Thank you. I hope to see you again
soon." He bowed, to Obi-Wan's surprise, and then left.
Roughly an hour later, after Obi-Wan had bathed, put on a new
robe, and was meditating as he tried to assimilate the
strangeness of the day, there came a knock on his door.
Realizing that much of his meditation had centered on the man
he'd seen on the battlements, Obi-Wan sighed, rose from his
knees and went to the door.
He clung to his half-achieved serenity as he looked at the man
on the other side of the door. He faced a tall, lean man, with
long bronze-gray hair, eyes like the sky before a storm, and a
neatly trimmed beard that emphasized a firm jaw. Although the
man was wearing the plain brown leather and chain mail armor of
the castle guards, Obi-Wan somehow knew that this man was no
ordinary guard. A thin band of braided gold and silver rested
on the man's head, and he wore a ring set with one large ruby.
Him, Obi-Wan thought, the man from the
battlements.
Attributing his breathlessness to nerves, he tried to calm his
pounding heart as he bowed. "Your Majesty," he began.
"No, Brother. I get too much of that as it is. Surely the Jedi
don't bow to the outside world."
Qui-Gon awaited the reply, trying not to swallow hard as the
young monk straightened his back. Oh, but he was even lovelier
seen up close, beautiful, but not helplessly so, in the way so
many catamites were. No, this beauty was wrapped in strength,
resolve and a strange serenity that made Qui-Gon feel even more
restless than he usually did.
"We respect achievements made outside the Temple," came the
mild reply. "And Your Majesty's achievements have astounded the
world." Obi-Wan smiled at him and Qui-Gon felt that smile like
a fist squeezing his heart.
By the Gods, he wanted this man. And, like everything else
Qui-Gon Jinn had ever wanted, he was going to do what it took
to have Brother Obi-Wan. Whatever it took.
Obi-Wan wasn't sure what to make of the feelings that emanated
from the king. Earlier, the man had been unshielded but now he
had a strong, if somewhat unsteady shield in place.
Obi-Wan's sense of purpose deepened. The Force had sent him
here for more than one reason, he was sure of that, but this
man who knowingly held temporal power while unknowingly holding
spiritual power, was the prime reason he had been called to
Coures.
Suddenly realizing that the king was still standing in the
doorway, Obi-Wan gestured to the inside of the room. "Would you
like to come in, my lord?"
The king's face tightened. "It's Qui-Gon, Brother," he said
shortly. "I grudgingly accept 'sir' in public, but in private,
call me Qui-Gon."
Obi-Wan nodded, although he doubted everyone in the Keep had
the privilege of addressing the king by his name. "I am
honored, Qui-Gon. Perhaps you could call me Obi- Wan?"
The king smiled, and for some reason Obi-Wan felt his face grow
warm. What was it about that smile? Covering his confusion, he
gestured again.
"Actually, I was wondering if you felt up to more riding today?
I have an urge to get away from here for a while."
"I'm often in the saddle all day and into the night," Obi-Wan
replied quickly, glad to have something else to think about.
"When we go on our rounds in the countryside, the distances can
be much further than the distance I traveled today." He moved
toward the interior of the room, heading toward the bedroom. "I
will need to put on a pair of leggings and some boots . . ."
"Go ahead," Qui-Gon replied. He was stunned at the Jedi's easy
acceptance of him. One off hand grant to use the king's
personal name, and the man was treating him as he probably
treated his friends in the Temple.
Only you don't want him to be just a friend, do you?
Qui-Gon looked at the bedroom door which had been left slightly
ajar. He could hear rustling noises, and the thump of a pair of
boots. It would be so easy to walk forward and just take
what he'd wanted, the way he had dozens of times before.
But he couldn't. He was stunned by the thought. There was
something about that brightness he'd seen earlier, and that he
could still feel somehow, surrounding the young man like
armor. For a moment, the king felt sticky, and he looked at his
hands, expecting to see blood staining them.
"The red . . ." a nearby voice whispered. Qui-Gon looked up to
see the Jedi brother, his eyes almost all pupil, staring at
him. Then they both blinked and everything was as it had been,
except that Obi-Wan still looked shaken as he sat in a chair to
put his boots on.
"Red?" Qui-Gon asked, glancing down at his clean hands.
"I've been seeing red ever since I knew about your summons,"
Obi-Wan replied matter-of-factly.
"And now you just saw it on my hands," the king stated.
It wasn't a question, but Obi-Wan answered it anyway. "I'm
sorry, but it's your profession. I've seen red on the hands of
others before, warriors who come to us for healing, even on the
hands of the Lord Abbott."
"Well," Qui-Gon replied seeking to draw the conversation away
from himself, "that's hardly surprising. Mace Windu was one
hell of a fighter before he put his sword down and limped away
from the Battle of Artres."
"You fought with him?" There was a tiny hint of hero- worship
in the young Jedi's eyes, and Qui-Gon hid his own smile.
"I'll tell you about it as we ride."
". . . and so, if Mace hadn't taken that blow, it would have
been me dying on the field," Gui-Gon said, finishing his tale.
They rode lazily through a meadow which they had reached via a
series of tunnels that led under the city.
The king looked at Obi-Wan, who had remained quiet throughout
his telling of the tale.
"And yet, you threatened him in order to obtain your "own"
Jedi."
From anyone else it would have been an accusation, but from the
young monk, it was a simple fact. He looked at Qui-Gon with
nothing but curiosity. It made the king feel oddly defensive.
"I didn't exactly threaten . . ." he began and then paused as
those cool green/blue eyes looked at him.
"Damn, I should have realized you'd use it on me as well as
everyone else."
The statement surprised Obi-Wan. "I beg your pardon?"
"That damned truth-sense you people have," the king replied. "I
wanted to turn you loose against my enemies and those who only
pretend to be my friends, and instead . . ."
"Instead?" the Jedi's calm voice asked after a moment.
"Do you have any idea how devastating you are?" The minute he
asked the question, Qui-Gon felt heat moving across his face.
He was blushing? Hastily, he continued speaking.
"In this world in which you've found yourself, Jedi, lies and
secrets are the coin of the realm. And now I will drop you and
those all-seeing eyes of yours into the middle of this . . .
chaos I pretend to rule and you will see the lies and secrets.
Not just those of my enemies, but mine as well."
"You asked for a Jedi, King Qui-Gon Jinn," Obi-Wan said firmly.
"As I told Lord Varin, I can only be the Jedi I am. I cannot
lie to you, nor for you."
"Can you be silent for me, Jedi?"
"I was told to accept reasonable commands from you."
Qui-Gon looked around. "There's a stream over here. Perhaps we
could sit and talk about what is reasonable and what is not."
The young Jedi seemed to know how to take care of a horse,
Qui-Gon was glad to see. Once the horses had been walked some
and allowed to drink, the two men sat down on the stream bank.
"This is lovely," Obi-Wan said. He could feel the Living Force
easily in nature, and now his senses were enraptured by the
feeling of the life in the stream and in the surrounding
plants. There was a fox upstream with her kit and he smiled at
the kit's determination to catch his own tail.
Overriding all of the nature around him, however, was the man
at his side. He didn't try to read the king's thoughts, but a
feeling of relief rolled off Qui-Gon in palpable waves. The
harshness he'd felt earlier eased, replaced by a certain
wistful contentment. There was another tension, but for some
reason the king was managing to keep it tightly under shield he
shouldn't even have.
Obi-Wan was no fool. He knew, as any Force-sensitive knew, that
most people were afraid of the "witches." Most of the temples
to the Gods encouraged this fear, keeping alive the ancient
legends of the horrible Sith who had brought down the Empire of
the Ancients and plunged the world into darkness and war.
The Jedi did what they could, remaining custodians to the lost
knowledge of the Empire, but what did knowledge and books
matter when war and plague and famine threatened on every side?
The main reason they were tolerated was their ability to heal,
their steadfast refusal to use their powers for harm, and the
fact that they provided a convenient place to dump unwanted
children whose eyes saw too much. And here, in Ascant, they had
the vague protection of the king.
And now Obi-Wan knew that Ascant's king apparently refused to
acknowledge his own sensitivity to the Force. This presented a
matter of conscience for the young monk; should he call Qui-Gon
on his refusal, or should he ignore it?
But there was something else. Something . . .troubling about
the king. Obi-Wan couldn't understand how he could feel so at
ease with the man, while at the same time feeling almost
frightened of him. It was one thing to be told that Qui-gon
Jinn was larger than life (a phrase used often by both the
man's supporters and enemies) and another thing to experience
it.
It's the Force he radiates, Obi-Wan told himself.
He's untrained and he thinks in worldly ways and therefore
he projects in those ways. Even as he thought that
comforting thought, a small warning in the back of his mind
told him there was more to it than that.
Qui-Gon watched Obi-Wan out of the corner of his eyes, and
damned the young man's expressive face. When they'd first sat
down, Obi-Wan had been delighted, smiling at something he found
amusing. Qui-Gon had been pleased, this was one of his favorite
places, and he wanted Obi- Wan to like it as well.
But then, the Jedi had gone pensive, staring sightlessly at the
flowing water. Qui-Gon wondered what he was struggling with,
for his face held faint hints of inner conflict. Something
strange had happened to the king then; he'd wanted to banish
Obi-Wan's worries, bring back that beautiful smile, while
simultaneously wanting to throw the Jedi to the ground and take
him hard. Qui- Gon shook his head, worried about his more
vulnerable impulses. The monk was no one; a young man here to
serve him, in whatever way the king desired.
Which brought him back to the subject they were supposed to be
discussing.
"What," Qui-Gon asked quietly, "would you consider a reasonable
demand from me."
"I will heal and teach without reservation," Obi-Wan answered,
glad for once to be pulled back into the real world.
"Well I have no problem with that, although we have both
healers and scholars. I'm sure they will make you welcome."
Qui-Gon paused. "You see the future."
"No, not as such. I see possible futures, like roads leading
from the city. This one goes east, this one to the south . . .
If a man heads east and robbers await him to the south, he will
not be robbed."
"But you would see that it's possible that he could be
robbed. Would you tell him?"
The young man bowed his head, and Qui-Gon was lost for a
moment, as a ray of sunlight caught the copper in his
short-cropped hair.
"No," was Obi-Wan's reply. "Neither I, nor anyone, can see
all possible futures. If the man goes south and is
robbed, he might still, later, save a life, whereas, if he goes
east, there might be plague and two lives would be lost." He
looked up at Qui-Gon. "We are trained to live in the moment,
simply to be in the now."
"Easy to do, behind the secure wall of your Temple." Qui-Gon
knew he sounded bitter, but he couldn't help it. "No decision
you make there affects lives."
"Not on the scale of your decisions," Obi-Wan agreed quietly,
"but as healers and teachers we affect lives all the time."
"Damnit man, what does it take to make you fight back at me?"
Obi-Wan blinked. "Do you wish me to fight back when what you
are saying is the truth? I am no fool, Qui-Gon Jinn; I know
that anything I do in this . . . chaos as you called it, could
have such reaching affects on the future that even the greatest
adept of them all could not follow all the roads."
"If you see a future based on an action of mine that could harm
my kingdom, would you tell me?" the king asked after a long
moment of silence.
"Only if I was extremely certain of my vision. I am afraid,
sir, that you must leave that up to me." His tone gave no room
for bargaining, and Qui-Gon, who normally resented people
talking to him like that, found he could accept it from Obi-Wan
Qui-Gon sighed. "Well, I didn't actually ask you here for your
visions, so that can be considered reasonable." He sighed.
"This is the tough part."
"The truth-sense."
"Can I tell you who to use it on and who to leave alone?"
"No, it doesn't work that way. I can sense a lie in anyone
except another Force-sensitive."
Qui-Gon nodded. "But you can decide when to tell me what
you've learned, right? For that matter, you can tell me when
you sense another Force-sensitive."
"I will not hunt my own kind." A cold voice now, and Qui-Gon
understood, thinking of the Force-sensitives who had been
forced to betray their fellows.
"I only mean that if an embassy or a trade mission come before
me with a force-sensitive in their midst, you will tell me?"
Obi-Wan nodded. "That would be reasonable."
They both laughed a little at the constant repetition of the
word reasonable and for a moment a strange little silence fell
over them.
"I didn't think this through," Qui-Gon admitted. "I didn't know
what a profound affect you'd have on me."
"I have had an affect on you?" Obi-Wan sounded curious.
Oh have you ever, Qui-Gon thought, wanting again to pull
the other man into his arms and kiss him until his lips were
bruised and swollen. He coughed and tried to focus on the
rather important conversation.
"I've never met someone I can't lie to." He looked at the Jedi
monk. "It makes me want to trust you."
"You can," was the simple reply. "I am not interested in my
place at court or in any of the intrigues hinted at by Lord
Varin and my escort."
"Will you tell me when they lie to me? Tell me in private, I
mean."
There was a long silence and Qui-Gon found himself holding his
breath.
"Only if the lies are dangerous. I will not tell you what I
believe are called 'social lies,' and if some ambassador has
lied because he was instructed to, I will tell you that if I
can."
Qui-Gon nodded. "I understand."
Another long pause and then the Jedi looked at the king with
something akin to fear in his eyes. "Oh my lord, you give one
man too much power."
"Only a man who would not abuse that power would be afraid of
it." Qui-Gon astonished himself by saying.
"I must learn not to fear it. Fear, in the end, leads to the
Dark Side."
There was nothing Qui-Gon could say to that and as the sun was
slowly sinking, he rose to his feet.
"I think we at least have framework for you," he said, offering
his hand to help the Jedi up from the stream bank. His hand was
grasped in a strong callused grip, as Obi-Wan smoothly rose
from the ground, a vision of grace and strength somehow
combined.
"Indeed, Qui-Gon," Obi Wan replied, his hand resting for just a
moment in the large hand of the king's. He felt a shiver move
through him and dismissed it as a harbinger of evening's chill.
The next few days seemed to pass in a blur to Obi-Wan. While
he was long accustomed to taking in new information, he was
also accustomed to having plenty of time to integrate it. Here
it seemed that, just as he learned something new, he learned
something that contradicted it. This, of course, had also
happened at the Temple; contradiction was an extremely useful
teaching tool.
But the court of King Qui-Gon was no mere book to be learned
before the next day's discussion, or a series of contradictions
that build up to an enlightening moment. It was exactly as the
king had described it, chaos. A chaos of factions so
intertwined and convoluted as to make the illuminations in a
manuscript seem plain and easy to follow.
By the middle of his second day, he'd decided to stop trying to
make sense of who was on which side. In fact, he withdrew,
meditated for a good long time on detachment and Balance, and
emerged in time for dinner.
Dinner, and other meals, tended to be fairly casual,
occasionally rowdy, meals, unless the king was entertaining or
it was a feast day. This night was neither, and so Obi-Wan
found a seat at the second table, from which he could watch the
hall.
The queen entered first and in some state. Adi was a
magnificently beautiful woman, and dressed in the royal red,
she cut a striking figure. Her retinue surrounded her, however,
and she appeared to pay no attention to anyone else in the
room. From her, Obi-Wan caught a feeling of simmering anger and
buried fear, although she hid both well, presenting the world
with a look of serenity that went along with her pregnant
state. Here was a woman, he thought, born to her station and
highly aware of it; she didn't try at all to hide her pride.
The king strolled in a few moments later and the whole court,
which had just settled from saluting the queen, rose and bowed
or curtsied to him. He still wore the plain armor and circlet
he'd been wearing when Obi-Wan met him, but his personal Force
aura overshadowed his clothes like a cloak. Even those who
could not see it noticed his brightness, the Jedi realized.
Obi-Wan found it hard to keep his eyes off the man and watch
the flow of the Force in the hall. Qui-Gon nodded to his queen
with a certain blunt courtesy and she responded with a
perfectly graceful curtsy; they sat, and dinner was served.
Qui-Gon was used to feeling alone at times like this. If he
could do things his way, he'd be down among his men, telling
stories or talking strategy with the old sergeants. Up here, in
Adi's rarefied world, he felt like the dolt she wanted him to
feel like. All the same old same old, so why, after five years,
did the loneliness suddenly seem so much worse?
Without even thinking about it, he turned and looked at
Obi-Wan. He wasn't even sure how he'd known where the Jedi was,
but when he turned his head, he immediately saw the young man
watching the court with detachment. It wasn't the "I'm so above
all of this" detachment that Adi frequently displayed, but more
of a scholarly detachment. Somehow he could tell that Obi-Wan
saw the room as a pattern and, if asked, could chart out that
pattern as easily as Qui-Gon could map a battle.
The king fell to brooding, his mind pulling him back to last
night's dream of the Jedi monk beneath him, legs spread and
crying ecstatically while Qui-Gon thrust into him. He'd woken
to a very stiff erection and had thought of calling for one of
the pages or bath attendants to relive him of it. Strangely
enough, it had felt wrong, and he'd clung to the dream memory
and brought himself off, all while imagining what it would feel
like once he really did possess Obi-Wan.
Obi-Wan blinked and shook his head for a moment, feeling a rush
of heat flow over him. Looking around with both eyes and mind,
he couldn't tell where it came from, only that it was sexual in
nature. In this court, he mused; it could have been anyone.
Strange how, when he'd learned he was going out into this
worldly court, the thought that someone might desire him had
not occurred to him.
Desire had no place in a Jedi's life, interfering with serenity
as it did. Distracting bodily urges could be controlled through
meditation, and love among the Jedi was a thing of the mind and
not the body. If only that was the case here, Obi-Wan
thought. He'd been somewhat disturbed by the aura of sexuality
in the Keep, which was something he was going to have to work
on. The young Jedi was a well-read person and knew that King
Qui-Gon's court hardly compared to the great eastern courts
with their harems and slaves.
Disturbed and feeling a bit warm, Obi-Wan rose quietly from his
place and slipped out a side door. A few corridors took him to
the kitchen garden and he breathed deeply and appreciatively.
Rosemary and thyme, sage and basil, the smell of the herbs
cleared his head from the heat and confusion of the banquet
hall.
"Interesting place to choose," a velvet voice behind him said.
"No one thinks to look for anyone important here." A warm
chuckle. "I've spent hours here when I should be in the Hall."
"Then why do it?" Obi-Wan asked.
"Because I have to," the king replied. "Because this kingdom
was falling to pieces the way every other kingdom on the
Continent is, and they asked for my help. And finally, because
I'm better at it than anyone else is. Isn't that why
you're here?"
"Well that and the threat of increased taxes on our district,"
Obi-Wan replied dryly.
"Surely even two days here have shown you that I'm willing to
do whatever it takes to keep my kingdom safe."
Obi-Wan nodded. "I've known it since I met you. Your sense of
purpose almost defines you. It's odd really . . ."
"What's odd?"
The young Jedi spread his hands and strolled to a bush of
lavender. "Aside from differing goals, you are as dedicated as
most of the monks I know at home, even dedicated in the same
way." He ran his hand softly along the lavender and then
brought the hand up to his face, inhaling deeply.
"A woman," the monk continued, cutting off whatever words
Qui-Gon might have managed to get out after watching the
unconsciously sensual gesture, "once asked me if there was
anyone under the robe. If there was just an Obi-Wan as opposed
to a Brother Obi-Wan." He looked at Qui-Gon, moonlight glowing
from pale skin.
Who can blame her? Qui-Gon thought. He remained silent,
knowing for some reason that the young man was not normally
given to this sort of self-revelatory conversation.
"My answer was no. What I didn't tell her is that I have seen
what lies beyond Brother Obi-Wan, just as you have, perhaps,
seen what lies beyond King Qui-Gon."
Qui-Gon's sudden harsh inhale sounded doubly loud in the silent
garden.
"I've seen a young man walking on a thin, ice covered parapet,
high above the ground. Before me stretche two paths, both
equally perilous. And the worst is that I know that when I
choose, it shall be at random, and it will affect far more than
one Jedi Brother."
"I . . ." Qui-Gon began.
"And now," Obi-Wan went on as if Qui-Gon hadn't spoken, "it's
worse, because you're there with me, standing, as I do, on the
cusp of shattering change." He nodded to the king.
"Goodnight sir. With the embassy coming in tomorrow, I will be
needing rest." A brief bow and then he was gone in a swirl of
robes.
Qui-Gon stood still for a long moment, his mind struggling with
what he'd just heard. How could the Jedi open his soul to
another like that? And, in doing so, how could force Qui-Gon to
consider so much of what he kept buried deep within his most
secret soul?
Slowly, the king walked to the lavender plant and pulled a
single, flowered, stalk. He breathed in the scent and felt his
tension ease a little. In light of what Obi-Wan had said
Qui-Gon's physical desire for the young man seemed trite. And
yet, if it was so trite, why had he been glad to know that
Obi-Wan no longer thought of himself as alone on his icy path?
Because you damned fool, his mind answered easily, it
isn't just physical desire anymore.
"Shut up," the king muttered, and left the garden, still
holding the lavender Obi-Wan had touched.
Obi-Wan looked at the robe the young page had left next to his
bath. Cut along the same lines as his Jedi robe, it was made of
fine brown velvet, and the sash was made of heavy raw silk
edged with gold. He stared at the ensemble and then began to
laugh. He wasn't sure who was responsible for the clothing
change (although he had a good idea), but he somehow knew it
wasn't the king. Not that it mattered, he thought as he climbed
out of the bath, dried off and retrieved his best robe and
sash, dressing quickly.
He was just leaving his room, when the already quite familiar
voice of the king called to him.
"Ah, Obi-Wan! I was just coming to talk to you."
Obi-Wan turned and found that the king had actually put on
finely chased and gilded armor that suited his rank, and that
he wore a true crown. Oh dear, the monk thought briefly,
I hope those robes weren't his idea.
Obi-Wan bowed gravely, aware of the retinue of courtiers around
Qui-Gon. "Sir?" he asked, noticing the raising of eyebrows from
the courtiers and smiles of approval from the soldiers. He
sighed to himself; like it or not, he had been maneuvered into
a faction, and he felt a brief flicker of resentment for the
man who'd done the manipulating. He let it pass though him and
into the Force and prepared to listen to the king.
"Right now, all I want from you is your impression of
the Kasitlanders. Their ambassador, Count Valorum, will be all
pleasant words, but I need to know how committed he is to
anything he says." The king looked at Obi-Wan for a moment.
"You look ready to blend into the background, good . . ."
"Your Majesty," one of the courtiers murmured.
The king rolled his eyes, and turned to stroll down the corner.
Even as he started to gesture Obi-Wan toward the back of his
escort, the monk stood back and fell into place with a couple
of older looking soldiers who wore standard armor. Good,
Qui-Gon thought, Taris and Bant will keep him from harm.
He'd dreamed about the young man again last night, not a sexual
dream, but a dream in which he watched, helpless as Obi-Wan, a
gleaming sword in his hand, killed an armored warrior. As the
dead man slid off the Jedi's sword, Obi-Wan turned to Qui-Gon,
tears flowing down his face, and said, "Oh Force, what have I
become?"
Qui-Gon had woken, gasping from the force of the dream and had
been half tempted to send Obi-Wan back to his Temple to save
him from such a fate. But he couldn't; he needed the Jedi and
his talents too much. And hadn't even Obi-Wan acknowledged
that, for some mystical reason of his own, he needed to be here
now?
Now, moving toward a meeting in which he needed to play top dog
for the benefit of somewhat aggressive neighbors, King Qui-Gon
remembered a soft voice in the darkness, you're there with
me, standing, as I do, on the cusp of shattering change.
The main steps before the Great Hall were crowded, as people
milled about and heralds all tried to keep them in their proper
places. Queen Adi and her women and guards seemed to take up
most of the stairs, causing Obi-Wan, who'd backed up against a
wall on the top stair, to wonder where on earth the King and
his party were going to stand.
He watched an amusing ripple effect as the heralds, who seemed
to cherish protocol more than they did either ruler, casually
displaced people and placed others, until the court formed a
great crescent on the stairs and down in the courtyard. The
King and Queen made a handsome couple, Obi-Wan thought, and, if
one were unknowing of the tensions between them, one could
imagine from the way they interacted that theirs was a match of
great friendliness. What Obi-Wan felt from them at the moment
was a mutual irritation with each other and a slight degree of
physical fatigue on the part of the Queen.
His attention, and that of everyone else in the courtyard, was
captured by the sound of horns and drums as the Kasitlanders
rode in through the gates, escorted by a small honor guard.
Obi-Wan found himself feeling a little disappointed. Admired
and feared for their battle tactics, particularly the way they
fought "running wars" using terrain, and stealth against their
foes, the men before him didn't look all that different from
the people of Ascant. The ambassador's guard wore the same kind
of leather and mail armor he'd become accustomed to seeing in
the Keep, and the only difference Obi-Wan noticed was that they
carried more bows than the King's Guard did.
Silly monk, he told himself, you're not here to
appraise them militarily. He laughed at himself, a good way
to stay humble, for his attempt to see fighting strengths in a
"friendly" visit.
"Most Royal Majesties," the Kasitland herald said, his deep
voice echoing around the courtyard, "may I present unto you,
the most excellent Count Valorum and his most fair Countess
Nienve?"
The couple that strode forward were as much a study in
contrasts as the Ascant king and queen, and Obi-Wan had to
assume theirs was another state match. Valorum was a tall
whipcord slender man, elegantly dressed in the blue and white
of his kingdom, while his wife, easily half his age, was the
stuff of adolescent dreams. The countess was red-haired, green
eyed, and was perfectly curved in every place a woman was
supposed to be curved. Obi-Wan instinctively glanced at Queen
Adi, and wasn't surprised to see the woman's eyes narrow, at
the same time a wave of anger rolled off her. The king, on the
other hand, merely glanced at the countess before looking back
to her husband.
"We do welcome Our visitors from Kasitland," Qui-Gon said, the
polished phrases rolling off his tongue perfectly. "And We are
glad that Our brother ruler has sent the legendary Count
Valorum to treat with Us." He took his wife's hand and led hr
halfway down the steps. "Please, join Us in bread and wine, and
be welcome in Our home." He raised a hand and a page with a
silver tray moved to stand next to him.
As the count and his wife came up the stairs, Obi-Wan focused
on them, carefully. Both seemed to be in earnest in their
desire to treat honestly with Ascant's king, but there was
something about them, almost as if they had barriers of their
own. Obi-Wan smoothly withdrew, and then, as the king and queen
served shared bread and wine with their guests, the Jedi ducked
behind a wall of people and launched a very brief and slightly
clumsy probe at the entire ambassadorial party.
"Oh, I'm terribly sorry," came a voice from the courtyard. "I
must have slipped."
"Who spoke?" Obi-Wan asked one of the guards.
"The countess," was the reply. "Wouldn't mind if she slipped in
my direction. What a woman."
After a bit more ceremonial conversation, the Kasitlanders
withdrew to rest and freshen up after their long ride. Long
before he would have expected it, the king came looking for
Obi-Wan, finding him again in the kitchen garden, this time on
a bench near the wall.
"Oooof," Qui-Gon said, slumping down next to the Jedi. "Damn
stuff weighs a ton; it's absurd to think anyone could actually
fight in armor like this."
"It is beautiful," Obi-Wan said. "The craftsman knew his art
well."
"As an artist, not an armorer." The king leaned back and sighed
again. "Why can't it all go away for one day so I can just sit
out here and rest and talk to you."
"To me?"
"No lies." A short silence fell and then the king looked at
Obi-Wan. "Well?"
"On the surface, they are everything you'd expect. Valorum is
sure that his agenda is a worthy one and expects very little
argument from you over it. They're a little nervous, probably
because of your reputation, but they seem inclined to act
fairly and plan no treachery."
"Oh the surface," Qui-Gon said. He looked at the Jedi and
raised an eyebrow.
"Her Excellency is Force-sensitive."
"Shit. Seriously?"
"Did she become distracted and almost lose her balance at one
point during the wine and bread?"
"Yeah, as a matter of fact. I thought she was trying to shove
her tits in my face." Qui-Gon suddenly coughed, and glanced at
Obi-Wan, expecting to see a blush or a shocked look.
"I lived all my life in the Temple," Obi-Wan said, smiling
almost impishly. "I've seen any number of naked woman in the
baths."
"Isn't that rather distracting?"
"That's why we all bathe together. To learn to move past the
distraction of the flesh and know that all people are just that
. . . people."
"I'd be a lousy monk," Qui-Gon said with a smile. The smile
went away. "Did she notice you?"
"I don't think so, but if we're introduced, she'll know you
have a Force-sensitive on your side."
"Hmmmmm. Could she have . . . masked or put a false front on
what you read from her and Valorum?"
"I have no idea. I could do it, but I've been trained
all my life to use the Living Force. What her training has been
like . . . well we just don't know."
"Shit," the king said again.
Obi-Wan was about to speak, when he saw a page running toward
them.
"Time's up," Qui-Gon said to Obi-Wan. "Look, this is just a
ceremonial dinner and I don't want to risk you right now.
Tomorrow is soon enough."
"As you wish. I'll eat in my quarters." Obi-Wan didn't try to
hide his relief and Qui-Gon glared at him.
"Smug bastard," the king muttered, grinning to take away the
rudeness of his words. He rose and followed the page, the
setting sun glinting off his armor and burnishing the long mane
of hair that flowed over the steel.
When did we become friends? Obi-Wan wondered. How did
it just . . . sneak up on me like that?
He thought about it more at dinner. Was it because the king was
an unacknowledged Force-sensitive, and as a Jedi, Obi-Wan felt
a sense of responsibility toward him? Was it merely that
Qui-Gon liked him, preferred his company to that of his court?
Or was it something stronger, the Force, pushing them together
because there was something they needed to do together? He
already knew that Qui-Gon was part of his own destiny, that
frightening Change, whatever it was, that he was going to bring
to the Order, or even the world itself.
But, he told himself without any vanity, everyone I
interact with is part of my Path.
He sighed and took a drink of his wine, and smiled. Rich and
fruity, but still with a hint of dryness to it, it was much
better than what had been served last night. So was the food,
even what the cooks had judged correct for a tray to someone's
room. The bird was pheasant, with a slightly spicy pepper
sauce. Obi-Wan grimaced a little; going heavy handed with spice
bottles was the privilege of the rich and he actually preferred
his food with less pepper. He absently reached for the
wineglass again.
"Oh thank the Gods that's over," Qui-Gon muttered to himself as
he trudged into his rooms. His squire immediately began to
unbuckle the king's breastplate, but as soon as the boy had
managed all the buckles Qui-Gon couldn't reach, he waved him
away. "I'll do it myself, boy. Go to bed; I'll want the red
velvet thing tomorrow."
"Yes, Your Majesty."
Qui-Gon stripped out of his armor quickly, tossing the padded
under tunic to the floor and padding into his bedroom on bare
feet. Bath in the morning, sleep now. He was in no way
prepared for the sight that met him.
The room was golden with firelight and candle flames, and
smelled of sandalwood. As usual, his bed was covered with heavy
furs, but those furs had slid halfway off the bed, probably
from the movement of the man who lay naked on them, his skin
turned to purest gold by the light, light gold against the dark
furs and darker gold against the white linen sheets. As soon as
Qui-Gon entered the room, the man looked up and smiled at him
with wide eyes.
"Oh Force, you're beautiful." He stretched as he spoke,
enabling the king to see lean muscles dance under that gold
skin. He could also see the man's half-erect cock, the curls
around it kissed by gold.
"Obi-Wan?"
"So beautiful," the young man replied, dreamily. "Come to me,
my beautiful king, come and love me."
"I . . . what's . . .?" Qui-Gon wasn't normally given to
stammering, but he was certain that he wasn't asleep, that this
wasn't one of his Obi-Wan dreams.
The Jedi monk rolled over and looked over his shoulder, his
eyes dark and smoldering. "You'll be the first," he said, his
voice caressing each word. He ran a hand down his back and then
across one buttock. "Come and be my first, my lovely lord. Come
and teach me how men love." He rolled again, ending up on one
side. "Please . . . I need you. Oh Qui-Gon Jinn, lord of
armies, ruler of Ascant, winner of battles, conquer me. Make me
yours."
"I . . . what's wrong with you?" Qui-Gon managed to gasp out.
"Nothing that your touch can't heal," Obi-Wan, purred, licking
at his own thumb.
"This is not right," Qui-Gon insisted, his voice a little
heated, as he tried to ignore the aching hardness between his
legs. "You're not acting like . . ."
"I'm acting," Obi-Wan replied in the same dreamy voice, "like a
lover who wants to be fucked. Do you want me to beg more, my
lord and king?"
"NO!" Qui-Gon yelled, "I don't like lovers who sound like
whores."
"'M not a whore. Just yours, yours alone. You're the one
I want, Qui-Gon, the one I need."
And then Qui-Gon saw it, the goblet lying on the floor near the
bed. He picked it up and sniffed at the dregs in it carefully,
catching an odd sweetness underlying the dry red.
"Obi-Wan, how much of this did you drink?"
A hot hand trailed down his neck to his side. "Who cares? Come
here and let me drink from your mouth." The hand began to
fumble with Qui-Gon's breeches and the king absently batted it
away. Who would drug Obi-Wan and why?
He carefully put a hand on Obi-Wan's forehead; the man was
burning up. His mind started cataloging poisons and potions. It
smelled sweet, was giving Obi-Wan a fever, and was making him
as randy as a cat in heat. Mysilac. The only question was how
much had Obi-Wan been given? Too much could prove deadly,
although if someone wanted Obi-Wan dead there were quicker,
much less . . . conspicuous ways of accomplishing the task. How
long would the effects last? Qui-Gon's limited knowledge of the
drug couldn't give him an answer.
The hand was back, trailing up his chest. Obi-Wan was running
his fingers through the hair on Qui-Gon's chest and sighing. In
his ear, actually. Just as Qui-Gon realized how close they
were, a pair of lips touched themselves to his ear.
"Close," Obi-Wan whispered. "Just as we should be, as we were
meant to be. Please, my love, come to bed."
"Obi-Wan, you're drugged. Stop playing the tart and use your
brain for a moment. Isn't there some Jedi . . .?"
"Never mind the Jedi," those lips whispered, and Qui-Gon was
still losing the battle against moving his head. "But if you
don't want me on the bed, have me on the floor. Anywhere,
Qui-Gon, anywhere. Bend me over a chair, take me on the bench
in the garden . . . it won't matter, I need your body against
me, around me, inside me."
A man could only take so much. Qui-Gon was sure, as he moved
his hands to grasp Obi-Wan's shoulders that he meant to push
the Jedi away. But even as he did, a surprisingly strong pair
of hands closed over his wrists and tugged hard.
Rolling slightly to break the grasp, Qui-Gon found himself face
to face with Obi-Wan, the other man's face flushed, and his
eyes heavy lidded. The pink tip of Obi-Wan's tongue slid across
his lips, and Qui-Gon felt every muscle in his body strain as
he fought the urge to cover those lips with his own. Why was he
fighting this so much?
Then the heavily lidded eyes closed and Obi-Wan was biting his
bottom lip with a sigh. "So close," he breathed. "Come closer,
love."
Was it the expression on Obi-Wan's face that made him look like
lust incarnate? Was it his heat that made Qui-Gon feel as if he
were approaching some mythical beast of fire? Or was it the
word, the name, "love," on those lips?
In the end it didn't matter. Nothing mattered after Qui- Gon
leaned forward and kissed Obi-Wan. He tried to be careful; he'd
bedded virgins before, but Obi-Wan responded by surrendering
his mouth eagerly, almost drawing Qui-Gon into that lush heat.
Qui-Gon caught fire from the deepening kiss, pushing Obi-Wan
back on to the bed and following him until they both sprawled
across the fur, skin to skin. As Qui-Gon explored Obi-Wan's
mouth, the young man moaned and writhed under him, his actions
making it quite clear that the king's pants were certainly in
the way.
Finally breaking the kiss, Qui-Gon hastily removed the rest of
his clothes and then sat back and looked at Obi- Wan. Once more
lying on his back, Obi-Wan was a gift from the gods, beautiful
and shining, hungry for whatever Qui-Gon would give him.
"So beautiful," the king whispered.
As he bent to kiss Obi-Wan again, the Jedi put up a hand.
"Hair," he said in the dreamy voice. "Unbraid it for me, love."
Qui-Gon nodded and as his hands moved to the tie binding his
braid, he moved suddenly to straddle Obi-Wan, their erections
nudging each other. Obi-Wan thrust up, and Qui-Gon put his free
hand on one slim hip to keep him still. Just then, the tie gave
way and the braid was loosening until Qui-Gon's hair fell
around his shoulders.
"Oh Force," Obi-Wan breathed. "So gorgeous . . . need you so
much."
He reached up, tangling his fingers in Qui-Gon's hair, pulling
the king's head down for another long hard kiss. As they
continued to kiss, Qui-Gon biting at Obi-Wan's lips, he also
stroked the hip he'd been holding. Long hard strokes, down and
around reach one buttock, and then back to the hip, again and
again, calling up more of those throaty moans from the man
underneath him.
Obi-Wan was on fire, every sense consumed with the passion that
raged through him. Qui-Gon's smell, sweat and leather and pure
masculinity, the way he tasted, like wine and fire somehow
combined, the way he almost growled as his mouth worked its
magic on Obi-Wan's, the overwhelming sight of him looking down
at Obi-Wan with lust in his eyes, and the feel of him -- oh
Force the feel of his weight, his hands sculpting Obi-Wan's
body, his erection hard against Obi-Wan's groin . . .
"Now, Qui-Gon," he panted, as he tore his mouth away from the
other man's kiss. "I can't bear it anymore."
"Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon replied huskily. "Are you sure?"
Obi-Wan grabbed the hand that had been stroking him and moved
it between them, pressing it against his erection. Even a touch
instigated by himself made him tilt his head back and moan,
arching his hips against Qui-Gon's weight.
"Feel how sure I am. Love me, my lord; open me up and be inside
me." He could still feel a faint reluctance from the king.
"Please Qui-Gon, I'm burning, and only you can put this fire
out." He gathered the Force and, lifting Qui-Gon's weight off
him for a moment, rolled over so that when Qui-Gon straddled
him again, it was Obi-Wan's thighs that bore the man's weight.
He arched his back, feeling the king's hardness nudge his
buttock.
Qui-Gon was lost in the moment and there was only one anchor to
reality: the beautiful body beneath him. Obi- Wan kept arching
his hips, each time rubbing the king's cock against that
perfect ass. The young Jedi was sweating slightly and he
glistened in the warm light, putting to shame every other lover
the king had ever had. And he was going to have Obi-Wan;
he was going to give the Jedi everything he'd been asking for
and so much more.
He moved off Obi-Wan, stilling a complaint with a murmured,
"Hush, my love. I'm not going anywhere." He kept one eye on
Obi-Wan, but the young man remained complacent, wriggling
against the bed somewhat. Qui-Gon hurriedly fished through a
small chest on the bedside table, finally finding the small
clay jar he wanted. Impatiently thumbing the cork stopper off
the wide mouth, he scooped out a generous portion of the jar's
contents, and turned back to Obi-Wan.
As soon as he touched the man's skin, stroking one firm
buttock, the young Jedi arched into the caress, moaning. When
Qui-Gon's hand continued moving, Obi-Wan parted his legs. The
king slid his hand forward to cradle the already tight balls,
and then even further forward, until his hand was wrapped
around Obi-Wan's cock. Qui- Gon toyed with it for a while,
amazed at the way the smallest touch could produce such
expressive reactions.
"Ohhhh . . ." Obi-Wan moaned. "Feels so good, my love. No one
else . . . ahhh . . . has ever touched me like this."
Qui-Gon was startled by a sudden burst of extreme jealousy. He
couldn't remember any other lover who had made him feel this
way. "Good," he said roughly, "and no one should." Without
waiting for an answer, he let go of Obi-Wan's cock and reached
for his hip.
One gentle pull was all it took to get Obi-Wan on his knees.
Qui-Gon settled into position behind him and ran a teasing
finger down the cleft of Obi-Wan's ass. The Jedi cried out in
surprise when the king's finger brushed against his opening.
Qui-Gon chuckled, as Obi- Wan's knees moved even further apart.
He arched his hips as well, presenting himself while making
small noises of need.
"Oh gods," Qui-Gon muttered reverently. He moved his fingers,
slick with cream, to Obi-Wan's opening and carefully slid one
finger in. So hot, so tight, he thought. I'm going to
come just from doing this.
Obi-Wan encouraged him every step of the way, pressing back
against his hand and crying out loudly when Qui-Gon found
that spot inside him. The king had never seen anyone,
let along a virgin, get this ready this fast, and had to
conclude it had something to do with the drug.
The drug. For a moment, Qui-Gon paused, knowing he was most
certainly fooling himself with the notion that the drug was
just revealing a buried desire on Obi-Wan's part. His own
buried desire was too strong; he'd never shied away from taking
what he wanted, particularly when what he wanted was a
beautiful man stretched out before him begging for it.
All Obi-Wan could feel now was the heat and the emptiness.
Qui-Gon had been inside him but now he wasn't and . . .
"Please, my lord. Fill me with all of you. Take me,
Qui-Gon. Now!"
Something pushed at the entrance to his body and he caught his
breath, only to sigh dreamily as the pushing continued and
Qui-Gon began to move inside him. There was no pain, only the
lifting of an ache he hadn't known he had. Never alone
again, he thought, as he felt his body opening up like a
flower, and he pushed back, trying to make this wonderful
joining happen faster.
"Oh gods!" Qui-Gon yelled as Obi-Wan suddenly shoved back and
took him all the way in. The man had to be some pleasure god
come to earth, and all Qui-Gon could do was match the rhythm
that Obi-Wan seemed to want. It was like moving into fire, a
tight channel of fire that surrounded him, and accepted him as
nothing ever had before.
His mind began to spin, the world vanishing until there was
nothing but the golden fire of Obi-Wan beneath him, all
breathless cries and pounding movement. This moment had to
last, to go on forever, for as long as Qui-Gon was here, he was
loved and he loved and that had never happened to him before.
It suddenly seemed very important to let Obi-Wan know that,
and, never stopping his driving rhythm, Qui-Gon leaned forward
along the slick heat of Obi-Wan's back.
"I love you," the king panted into Obi-Wan's ear. The Jedi
threw his head back until they were almost cheek to cheek.
"Yes!" he cried out. "As do I love you."
And then it happened. Qui-Gon wasn't just inside Obi- Wan's
body, he was inside all of Obi-Wan, everything that made the
young man who he was lay spread out before the king and he knew
it all, saw it all felt it all. He could feel what it was like
for Obi-Wan, this driving ecstasy that he'd never even known
was possible, this pleasure so intense and so fine that it
ripped through his soul like a blade, carving him and remaking
him into something brand new.
And, somehow, Qui-Gon, knew how to do the same thing and
without thought for all his flaws and faults, he opened himself
up and let Obi-Wan see into the depths of his soul. Tears were
falling from his eyes to land on Obi- Wan's neck now, as
Qui-Gon's great lifelong burden of loneliness was lifted,
smoothed away by the pure acceptance that Obi-Wan offered just
as generously as he offered his body.
Thoughts, feelings, knowledge moved between the two, and one
little bit of information was passed from Qui-Gon to Obi-Wan,
hardly noticed by either in the heady ecstasy of their growing
bond and nearing climaxes. Minds both reeling from near
overload, both withdrew slightly, and became aware of the
physical world again.
Qui-Gon reached around Obi-Wan's hip to pump his cock in
exactly the right rhythm, and he drove into Obi-Wan exactly
hard enough, until both men hung, breathless and together, on
the fine edge of control. The fall, when it came, was more like
flying, each of them screaming in ecstasy, and doing everything
they could to prolong the moment. But the fire raged out of
control, and both king and Jedi surrendered to it, passing
through ecstasy into dark, cool, oblivion.
There was something heavy on his back, Obi-Wan noticed as he
woke. Almost instantly he knew that it was Qui- Gon, and for a
moment he reveled in being wrapped up in the warm length of his
lover. Hazily, he remembered the drug in his system and cleared
it with a thought. Through the bond he could tell that . . .
"A bond!" Obi-Wan exclaimed, sitting up and sending Qui- Gon
tumbling to the bed. "A lover?" The Jedi monk shook his head.
"No," he mumbled, "this isn't . . . it can't be happening. How
. . .?" He turned to look at the king.
"What's wrong," Qui-Gon asked, his voice a little thick. "I
feel . . . I don't know . . . it's like . . ."
". . .trying to see out of two pairs of eyes," Obi-Wan said. He
reached out and touched Qui-Gon's forehead and watched as the
man's face cleared. His own discomfort level went down as well.
Oh, this was a bond all right and a serious one at that.
Qui-Gon, his blue eyes almost black in the flickering
firelight, opened his mouth, not sure of what to say. He felt
like someone had opened up his head and stirred up the
contents, leaving thoughts floating around unattached to
anything.
Obi-Wan shook his head and moved. The movement made him aware
of a soreness he couldn't quite remember having before, and
then his eyes went wide, as he stared at Qui-Gon again. When
the king started to speak, Obi-Wan held up his hand, searching
his mind.
Qui-Gon watched in silence, knowing, although he knew not how,
that Obi-Wan was examining his experience from every angle,
looking at it dispassionately and with that perfect Jedi
detachment.
"You were right," Obi-Wan breathed, after what had seemed a
lifetime to Qui-Gon. "Oh love, you were right."
Qui-Gon's fear vanished at the word "love" leaving him almost
weak with relief. "About what?"
"That the drug was letting me do things, say things, that I
wanted to but couldn't, or didn't know how to."
"Then," Qui-Gon said, not bothering to disguise his rising
happiness, "you don't think I took advantage of you? You
enjoyed it? You . . . you love me?"
Obi-Wan smiled, that impish smile Qui-Gon had only seen a few
times. "No, you didn't take advantage of me. No I didn't merely
enjoy it; I loved and want it again as soon as possible.
And yes, Force help us both, I love you." The last was said
almost wistfully.
"Obi-Wan, I do love you as well," Qui-Gon said, troubled by the
Jedi's expression even as he was glad to hear Obi-Wan's
answers.
"I know. That's why we bonded on some level, I'm not sure how
yet."
"Bonded . . ." Qui-Gon frowned for a moment and then smiled,
remembering. "That happened when you showed yourself, all of
yourself to me. I don't know how I did it, but I did the same
for you."
"All of yourself?"
"To the very depths of my soul, love." Qui-Gon wasn't sure why
this seemed to bother Obi-Wan so much. It had been such an
amazing experience, one he knew would never be matched again in
his life, and Obi-Wan was more upset about it than he was about
the sex. "I'm sorry. Did we break some vow . . ."
"Qui-Gon, my dearest love, we broke about four or five vows
between us, but this is different. This bond, it links us, not
just mind to mind as some Jedi are linked, but soul to soul,
something only rumored to be possible outside of legends." He
looked soberly at Qui-Gon. "You know what they say in the
songs, about the lovers who can only be parted by death? That's
us. I don't know how far we can be from one another, but too
far and we'll fall ill. Even further, and we'll die."
He bowed his head, shaking it slightly. "I guess you have your
Jedi now, my lord."
"Obi-Wan, no! I didn't drug your wine, and I know I shouldn't
have taken advantage of you . . . gods, what a fool I am, so
used to taking what I want that even this is tainted by my
needs."
"Tainted," Obi-Wan began sounding a little hurt.
"Shhh!" Qui-Gon hissed sharply, as the door to his rooms
opened. "Who is it?" he yelled.
In response, the king's squire stumbled in. Qui-Gon was about
reprimand him when he saw the long splash of scarlet running
down the boy's nightshirt.
Obi-Wan leapt off the bed in an instant, catching Son- Ave
before he fell. He eased the boy into his lap and bent over
him, cataloging his injuries, and pouring healing strength into
him.
"My lord . . ." the boy gasped, looking up at his uncle, who
was kneeling beside Obi-Wan. "You must flee . . . Queen's Guard
. . . killing your men . . ."
"And the Kasitlanders?"
"Not sure . . . thought I saw . . . oh Gods!"
Qui-Gon looked at Obi-Wan who shook his head. Qui-Gon closed
his eyes briefly and then grabbed at the dagger on his bedside
table.
"Son of my sister," he said quickly, reaching for the thin
braid that hung near Son-Ave's cheek. "By trial of arms, thou
art now a Knight." He sliced off the braid and handed it to
Son-Ave. "You deserve it, my brave lad."
"Uncle . . . thought I saw . . . Valorum with her . . ." His
voice trailed off and he slumped back against Obi- Wan, who
passed a hand over his face, and then gently closed the new
Knight's eyes.
"Fennis was the one who sent him, Qui-Gon, and he saw Fennis
fall with an arrow through his heart."
Qui-Gon didn't have to reply; if the Captain of his Guard was
dead, then things were bad indeed. He leaned forward and kissed
his nephew's forehead and then looked up at Obi-Wan.
"I hope you had clothes on when you came here Obi-Wan, because
we have to leave now."
Obi-Wan stood up effortlessly with the boy in his arms and laid
him on the bed. "My robe," he said to Qui-Gon. "I think I left
the sash in the hall somewhere and I know I was barefoot."
"Damn!" the king replied, as he dug through the closet. "Here
this," and a tunic hit Obi-Wan's chest followed by a pair of
breeches, "and these will have to do. Bring the robe; we'll
belt it with an old belt. We'll steal boots for you from the
stables."
Qui-Gon dressed incredibly quickly and, as Obi-Wan finished
rolling the waistband of the breeches and blousing the tunic
over a belt, the king moved around the room, gathering
everything small and valuable he could get his hands on.
Obi-Wan grabbed his robe, the velvet one he hadn't worn that
morning and Qui-Gon looked at him.
"Fancy for a Jedi."
"I thought it came from you. It was in my rooms this morning."
They looked at each other. "Her," they both said.
"Time to go," Qui-Gon snapped. He moved past the bed and
paused. "Go with the gods, Son-Ave." He bent and took the braid
out of the boy's hand and then accepted the bottle Obi-Wan
handed him. Pouring the brandy across the still form, he then
reached for a candle.
"Be one with the Force, Son-Ave," Obi-Wan murmured as the bed
burst into flame.
And then they were sneaking out of the bathroom the back way,
moving in perfect unison through the back corridors of the
castle. "I'll be back," Qui-Gon said quietly as they slipped
into the stables. He looked at Obi-Wan. "You've seen it,
haven't you?"
"I see that the two men on the icy parapet have chosen a path,"
Obi-Wan replied. "You will be back Qui-Gon Jinn, but you may
not know the man who returns."
"Will I know you?" Qui-Gon asked, checking the saddling on a
messenger's horse.
"Always." Obi-Wan swung up onto a horse as Qui-Gon did.
"Then that will have to do. Let's ride!"
After a slow careful ride through the ancient tunnel system
beneath the keep, they emerged near the stream that the king
had taken Obi-Wan to when they talked about "reasonable" terms
for the Jedi's service.
"We'll wait here a while," Qui-Gon said. "If any of my men
manage to make it out, they'll know to come here."
"And then?" Obi-Wan asked. Their former unity seemed to have
faded somewhat, and he felt distinctly nervous and exhausted.
"The Jedi Temple would give us sanctuary."
"Not the Temple. Once they know you're with me . . . oh Gods,
of course! Adi did it."
"Did what . . . oh you mean she drugged me. Why?"
"To distract me. She probably took one look at you and, once
she stopped drooling, knew that I would want you." He turned
away. "She knew I wouldn't out and out take someone against
their vows, but that I might take advantage of someone so
drugged they didn't remember their vows."
"Oh I understand all of that," Obi-Wan replied, "but why. . .
It's that habit you have of walking the castle late at night,
or if you're restless. You had to be kept busy so you weren't
on the scene. But what difference would it have made, if you'd
been there? I know you're the greatest swordsman alive, but how
could one man make that much of a difference?"
"Her guards and their knight-captains have sworn fealty to me.
Had I been there, it would have been much harder for them to
move against my men." Qui-Gon paused. "Adi is . . . formidable.
She's probably been planning this since she got pregnant. Now,
she's three months away, and then she can be regent for
my son."
"She'll have to find your son somewhere else," Obi-Wan began.
"Because the baby's not a boy," Qui-Gon finished, his eyes
wide.
"She's a girl who will have her father's force sensitivity."
"I'm not force-sensitive," Qui-Gon snapped, obviously
wanting that to be the end of that discussion.
"Does my lord prefer 'witch?'" Obi-Wan asked coldly. "Or maybe
'demon's get,' or 'unclean' or any of a hundred other names
your gods' priests have given us?" He raised his hand
and Qui-Gon felt his horse being nudged toward Obi-Wan's until
the two men were face to face. "I suppose force-sensitives are
only tolerable when their in your service, whether on
the steps of your keep or naked and belly down in your bed."
Qui-Gon stared, unable to move at all. Obi-Wan's breath came in
harsh fast pants and his blue eyes glowed, a blue glow that was
beginning to spread around his whole body.
"Obi-Wan!" Qui-Gon snapped, suddenly very grateful for their
bond. "Center! Let go of your anger."
For a brief moment, Qui-Gon was sure Obi-Wan was going to
finish off Adi's attempt to be rid of her husband, but then the
Jedi suddenly slumped in the saddle. "Oh Force," he said so
softly that Qui-Gon had to lean down to hear him. "What have I
done?" He took several deep breaths and the king could somehow
feel his lover's rage vanishing.
"It's my fault," Qui-Gon said after a long moment.
"No," Obi-Wan said. "I understand not wanting to be thought of
as . . ."
"That's not what I mean. I'm talking about your anger. How
normal is anger like that for you?"
"I do get angry, in fact I struggled with it as a child, but
now it hardly ever happens. Certainly not like that." Obi-Wan
looked up at Qui-Gon. "Obviously there's more to a soulbond
than the songs mention." He smiled a little, and Qui-Gon
reached out and stroked his face.
"I wonder if it was like this for Illuria and Nazim?"
Obi-Wan thought of the two doomed lovers of legend and shook
his head. "I hope not, and I hope we don't end up like them."
He looked away for a moment and then turned back to Qui- Gon.
"You've called it luck all your life and you've mostly used it
on the battle field, but you are going to have to admit
what you are, Qui-Gon. Now that you have knowledge from me,
you're going to instinctively try to use that knowledge and the
results could kill us."
"Well, I'm lucky that I fell in love with the greatest Jedi of
his generation, or any other for that matter."
Obi-Wan frowned slightly. "I've never thought that about
myself."
"No, but your abbot did. That's what he said in the letter he
sent with you. I figured that's what you meant about the icy
parapet and your decision. What's happening to us is going to
change the world, isn't it?"
Obi-Wan dismounted, wincing as he did, but letting the faint
pain vanish into the Force, and carefully checked his horse
before tying the reins to a nearby branch. Hugging his arms
around himself, he walked a little way up the stream bank, away
from Qui-Gon.
Change the world. He'd always known about the visions and the
dreams others had had about him. He knew about the cautious way
the Elders of the Temple had dealt with him and the very
casualness in some of his training that spoke of fear. "Are you
afraid of me?" he'd once asked Father Mace. "I would be afraid
of what you could become, Obi-Wan," his master had replied
honestly. "You must remain ever vigilant to the Dark Side,
Padawan, for should you fall, your fall would be great and the
result Dark indeed."
And yet, here he was, in love with and soulbonded to a man who
flirted with the Dark Side every time he rode into combat, and
whose rages were legendary. He'd broken his vow of chastity for
this man and possibly his vow of obedience. Part of him wanted
to be angry with Qui-Gon for taking advantage of a drugged
helpless man, but the part that knew Qui-Gon's soul gave him
brief images of himself lying on the king's bed and the genuine
struggle Qui-Gon had gone through before he gave in. Qui-Gon
was who he was and it wasn't his fault that he'd given in.
He felt Qui-Gon's approach before he heard it, and turned to
meet him. The taller man held out his arms and Obi-Wan moved
into them, and felt them wrap around him. "You don't have to be
alone any more, Obi-Wan. And I'm not afraid of you. Can you
find some comfort there?"
"Only if you can find comfort in knowing someone accepts you
for who you are," Obi-Wan said softly. "You aren't alone
either." He lifted his head, and Qui-Gon bent his and then they
were kissing, deep hungry kisses.
It was like being on the drug, Obi-Wan thought vaguely, as he
felt the need slam though him again. Shame vanished and he
wanted to be naked and in this man's arms. And he wanted it
now.
Qui-Gon started pulling at Obi-Wan's robe and at his own tunic
simultaneously, while still trying to kiss him. He'd never
needed anyone this much and he felt Obi-Wan's thought about the
drug. So this was what it had been like, he thought as they
both over balanced and started to fall.
I've got us, love, a voice said in his mind, and he felt
them touch the ground with hardly a bump.
"Did you speak inside me?"
Yes, I did, and you could too; I'll show you. But not
now.
Obi-Wan let the robe open and pulled his arms out of the
sleeves. "Instant ground cover," he whispered into Qui- Gon's
ear, and then went back to nibbling it. Qui-Gon laughed in
surprise and then moaned as Obi-Wan moved down to his throat.
"We shouldn't . . ." the king said, as he fumbled at his belt.
"Think we . . . have to . . . for the bond," Obi-Wan whispered,
pausing every few words, to nip at Qui-Gon's neck.
"Nice reason," Qui-Gon muttered.
"But, you're right," Obi-Wan said, exerting massive control,
"it's dangerous." He winced, pain stabbing at his temples.
Qui-Gon's eyes narrowed. "Obi-Wan, what are you doing?"
"Controlling the bond," Obi-Wan replied through clenched teeth.
"Well, it hurts."
The pain vanished and Qui-Gon drew a deep breath and looked
down to see Obi-Wan looking at him with wide eyes. "I'm so
sorry," he whispered. "I would never hurt you."
"Wasn't that bad," Qui-Gon replied, feeling the need for his
lover return as the pain in his head vanished.
"It was for me. Oh Force, Qui-Gon . . . I can't stop it, this
need."
"Then don't," Qui-Gon replied. "Head still hurt?"
"It's fading." Obi-Wan could feel that hunger building up
again. When he felt Qui-Gon undo his belt, and then untie his
breeches, he raised his hips eagerly.
"Good, let's fight this thing another way." Qui-Gon lowered his
head and Obi-Wan moaned at the feel of hot breath on his
erection. "Put your hand over your mouth, love." Qui-Gon said.
"Why . . . oh!" Obi-Wan clamped a hand down over his mouth,
recalling how much noise he'd made the night before. And it was
just in time, for Qui-Gon's mouth moved down on him, swallowing
him whole, or so it felt. He screamed into his hand and tried
to arch his hips, only to find them held tightly. The sense of
restraint was odd, but not without pleasure, and he tried to
relax and let Qui-Gon work his magic.
And, oh it was magic, as a skillful tongue moved over the
sensitive skin at the same time that incredible mouth worked
over him. Hot and wet, and such an intense experience as to
drive him insane. As tendrils of Force were binding himself and
Qui-Gon closer; he could feel Qui-Gon's enjoyment in this act,
the joy his lover felt in Obi-Wan's pleasure. That knowledge,
that this man wanted to pleasure him, wanted him
to feel this insanity, was enough to send him over the edge,
and he bit down hard on the edge of his hand to keep his
screams from echoing through the night.
As soon as he had come down a little, his breathing still
labored, Obi-Wan pulled at Qui-Gon demandingly, drawing him up
for a kiss. This kiss tasted of salt and bitterness, a strange
taste that Obi-Wan suddenly realized was himself. It should
have been repellent, but instead it increased his determination
to return the favor.
Qui-Gon felt that determination and smiled. "You don't have to,
you know. Force, Obi-Wan all you'd have to do right now is
touch me a little and . . ."
"I want to taste you," Obi-Wan said huskily. "I want you inside
my body again."
The king said nothing, but two pairs of hands struggled with
his clothes until Obi-Wan found what he wanted. "Oh Force," he
breathed, "this fit inside me?"
"Wonderfully," Qui-Gon said, shivering at the memory. "Someday,
when we have time, I'll let you know what that feels like too."
Their bond was strong right now and Obi-Wan stared at Qui-Gon.
"You would let me . . ."
"I'm glad I have an untouched part of myself to give you, my
love."
Obi-Wan sat up and bowed his head. "I do love thee, Qui-Gon
Jinn."
Before Qui-Gon could answer the surprisingly formal
declaration, he felt a light lick against the head of his cock.
"Mmmmmm . . ." Obi-Wan rumbled and Qui-Gon groaned loudly at
the vibration as he leaned back.
Hand over your mouth, love Obi Wan instructed, and
Qui-Gon could swear he heard laughter through the voice in his
mind. And then nothing mattered but the long slow licks of
Obi-Wan's surprisingly agile tongue. Reaching the base, Obi-Wan
nipped his way up the shaft with lip covered teeth, while
Qui-Gon writhed under him and wondered how Obi-Wan could be so
good at this.
I'm a Healer too, that strange bell like voice in his
head said. "I can see patterns and nerves. As if to illustrate,
he licked at the crease of Qui-Gon's thigh, causing the king to
buck slightly. Then Obi-Wan was mouthing his balls while
stroking his cock gently, dedicating plenty of time to the task
while Qui-Gon clenched his free hand in a fist to keep from
grabbing the back of Obi-Wan's head.
Just when he was sure he could take no more, just when he was
about take his hand off his mouth, bellow at Obi- Wan to finish
him off, and damn the consequences, his lover lifted his head.
Slowly, with infinite care, he moved his mouth down over
Qui-Gon's straining cock, taking it in inch by inch.
Qui-Gon Jinn was a king; he'd had the services of some of the
most talented mouths in Coures, both amateur and professional.
None of them compared to what Obi-Wan, an almost virgin Jedi
monk, was doing to him. He could feel Obi-Wan's throat
massaging the head of his cock, and knew that his lover had
taken him all the way in. And now he was moving, and Qui-Gon
could feel that hot wet mouth sliding up and then plunging down
at an ever- increasing speed.
As if that wasn't enough, Obi-Wan was there again, in
his mind and Qui-Gon could feel the threads that made up their
bond twining and tightening, drawing them ever closer. It was
so right, so perfect, and matched with the physical stimulus it
was more than enough to send him into a thrashing climax.
Obi-Wan managed to stay with him, although when Qui-Gon
returned to his senses he saw tears in the young man's eyes.
"Oh damn," he said, feeling terribly guilty.
Obi-Wan laughed. "It's strictly a physical reaction. If you
think I didn't like doing that, look and see for yourself."
Qui-Gon didn't really have to call on their bond; Obi- Wan was
practically humming with pleasure. "You're so generous," the
king said, almost sadly. "You take so much pleasure in making
me feel good."
"You're the same way," Obi-Wan said.
"I never have been before." Qui-Gon did up his breeches,
watching as Obi-Wan did the same. "You give me nothing but
good, and I teach you how to get truly angry."
"Which will happen again if you don't stop feeling guilty."
Obi-Wan's voice was tart. "Now is the time for us to ignore my
visions and my philosophies and to live in the now, as you
always have. Yes, great things are happening, but all we can do
is be ourselves."
"But that's just it, we aren't ourselves anymore." Obi- Wan was
about to say something, when Qui-Gon held up a hand. "Riders, a
dozen or so."
Both men leapt to their feet, hastily rearranging their
clothing as they ran for the horses. Qui-Gon drew his sword,
and they waited as the sound of hooves drew closer.
Obi-Wan felt Qui-Gon relax as, in the first light of dawn, the
riders could be seen as men in the red King's Guard uniforms,
but Obi-Wan couldn't relax. There was more here, someone else .
. .
The Guards parted and the Jedi and the king found themselves
looking up at the beautiful face of the Kasitland countess.
"I can explain why I'm here, but we must be on the move or
Valorum and your Queen will find us soon enough."
"Can I trust her?" Qui-Gon asked Obi-Wan very quietly as they
mounted their horses.
"I can't tell," the Jedi replied, frowning faintly. "Both she
and her maid are tightly shielded."
"So then the girl's one of . . . us too?"
"Yes." Obi-Wan replied, ignoring the faint pause in Qui-Gon's
sentence.
"Damn! 17 men and one Jedi against a pair of force-sensitives
we know nothing about." The king looked at Obi-Wan. "Ready,
love?"
"Of course." Obi-Wan replied, controlling his horse with his
knees to lean across and grasp Qui-Gon's hand. "And my lord?"
Qui-Gon sighed at the title, but raised an eyebrow.
"I have broken vows to be here; I will undoubtedly break more."
"I know and I'm so sor . . ." the king began to say.
"And, while I cannot kill without reason, I will defend myself
and others if I must." He smiled, and Qui-Gon wondered that the
smile could be so loving in the midst of what was such a heart
wrenching confession. "In this Qui-Gon, I am you man and would
swear oaths, if you would have me do so."
"The only oath I ask is that you promise to be by my side
always."
Obi-Wan smiled again, just as the sun rose, surrounding his
head with copper and gold until he glowed like a statue in a
temple. Qui-Gon's breath caught at the beauty of him.
"To death and beyond, beloved," Obi-Wan said carefully. "For
there is no Death; there is only the Force."
Qui-Gon closed his eyes and tried not to hate himself. This man
was going to see death, and plenty of it; he hoped Obi-Wan
still believed his words with the same strength of conviction
after he'd seen war.
They stared at each other for a moment more, and then Qui-Gon
nodded curtly. "Let's go."
They soon settled into position, Qui-Gon, Obi-Wan, and the
remaining officer, a Sergeant named Oln-Niv at the front, 2
pair of soldiers behind them and then the Countess and her maid
and the rest of the men behind them.
As they rode, Qui-Gon questioned the man beside him. The man's
news was not good; Valorum and his men had definitely sided
with the Queen's Guard, and most of the over numbered King's
Guard had scattered or been killed.
"There will be more coming, Sir."
"They all know where to look." Qui-Gon flicked his glance back
down the line. "What about her?"
"To be honest, Sir, we took her and the girl as a hostage.
Didn't make a damn bit of difference."
"Obi-Wan, can you tell if either of them are reporting back to
Valorum?"
Obi-Wan was tempted to ask Qui-Gon if he could tell what
condition the horses were in, but refrained from teasing his
lover in front of one of the men.
"I've been keeping close tabs on both of them, Sir," he replied
evenly, knowing Qui-Gon saw the amusement in his eyes. "So far
neither of them has used the Force except to make the riding a
little more comfortable."
"We can get them better clothes when we stop for the night.
That goes for you too; we've got to get you out of that robe."
Good idea, Obi-Wan sent. And if you must know,
I'm using the Force to make riding more comfortable as
well.
Qui-Gon made a choking noise and Oln-Niv stared at him
curiously.
We're going to have a talk with them tonight, Obi-Wan
said in Qui-Gon's mind again. They're going to need to know
that I can talk to you, and if I try hard enough, to some of
them as well. It might prove useful.
Qui-Gon nodded and looked at Oln-Niv. "Brother Obi-Wan has some
useful talents, Sergeant. I intend to take any suggestions he
makes about anything . . . unusual very seriously. I suggest
you do the same."
Oln-Niv looked at the Jedi. He'd assumed up to that point that
the young man was with them because he'd caught the king's eye.
Cool crystal eyes that shifted color looked back at him,
assessing him. For a moment it seemed as if the Jedi could see
into his soul and he shivered a little.
"I mean you no harm," the light voice said calmly. "I am as
much a victim of the Queen's bid for power as is the King and
the rest of your men. Also, if it helps you and your men in
accepting me, you should know that I am a fully trained
Healer."
The Sergeant smiled a bit. "Glad to hear it, Brother. Me 'n'
the boys always feel better when there's a stitcher in the
company."
Long hours passed, as they rode carefully, trying to get speed
out of the horses without tiring them too much. Obi-Wan was
able to assure Qui-Gon that there was no one following them and
that the Countess and her maid made no attempts to contact
anyone.
"However," he said in the early afternoon, "the ladies are
tiring, particularly the maid. I don't think she's used to
heavy riding like this."
"There's something else, isn't there?" Qui-Gon asked. He looked
at Obi-Wan and spoke softly, Oln-Niv having gone back to check
on the men at the rear. "Something about us."
"I must admit I'm having a hard time paying attention," Obi-Wan
said, almost apologetically. "I keep drifting into fantasies
and thoughts of you."
"I know exactly what you mean. It has to be the bond. Which is
why," Qui-Gon continued with a laugh, "that it's a good thing
that we're here."
Here turned out to be a large clearing in the forest they'd
been riding through. In the middle of the clearing was an inn.
"A trappers' inn," Obi-Wan said. "Will any of them know you?"
"Depends on who's there, but at this time of year the place
should be pretty quiet." He turned to Oln-Niv and made the
dispositions.
"Obi-Wan," he said, turning back to his lover. "Will you keep
an eye on our 'guests' while we look the inn over and secure it
if need be?"
"Yes, Sir," Obi-Wan replied quietly. He wanted to ask that
Qui-Gon not kill anyone, but how could he do that? I love a
killer, he thought.
"A Jedi," the Countess said, when Obi-Wan rode up to her and
bowed in the saddle. "Did he buy you from your Temple to spy or
to teach him how to use his own gifts? Or were you just pretty
enough to interest him?"
"His Majesty," Obi-Wan replied, in the silky tones he'd learned
at court, "asked for a Jedi from my Temple to read the truth in
negotiations with foreign embassies. Since then, we have become
soulmates."
"But that means . . ." the maid began, staring at Obi-Wan in
awe.
"Silence, Padme!" the Countess snapped. "Jedi, I will need to
talk to you and to King Qui-Gon. I don't appreciate being held
captive."
"I will inform His Majesty, when things are more settled."
They sat in chill silence for another 10 minutes or so, the
young maid peeking at Obi-Wan curiously, while her mistress
appeared to meditate. The only Force activity that Obi-Wan felt
from either of them was one faint tendril directed at himself
from Padme. He deflected it easily, and raised an eyebrow at
her. She blushed and looked away.
Obi-Wan was intensely relieved when one of the soldiers came up
to speak to him. The young man looked rather nervous, and
Obi-Wan wondered if the lad was more afraid of the Jedi or the
king's lover.
"We've secure the building, sir," the soldier said, very
quietly. "No one knew us, and the Captain asked if the ladies
could be trusted to keep their silence."
"I'll see to it," Obi-Wan replied calmly, thinking that some of
his calm had to be drawn from Qui-Gon's familiarity with this
sort of situation. The bond, while providing a major
distraction, was proving useful as well as dangerous. If only
he had time to figure it out. Might as well wish for
the moon, he thought with a faint smile.
"Your Excellency," he said, turning to the Countess. "Captain
Qui-Gon wishes to know if he can count on the silence of both
yourself and your companion."
"Returning to his roots is he?" she asked. "And if I cannot
promise silence?"
"You will be silenced," Obi-Wan replied. He drew on Qui-Gon's
hard voice and said, "one way or another."
"How dare you threaten me, you . . ."
Obi-Wan raised his hand and Padme slumped in the saddle. "It
appears that Your Excellency's maid has succumbed to the
fatigue of a long ride." He jerked his head at the soldier.
"See that the girl doesn't fall off her horse."
"Aye sir," the young man replied, looking at Obi-Wan with awe.
Fighting the need to wash, the Jedi turned back to the
countess. "My Lady?"
She was looking at him, her face unreadable, her shields high.
"You are indeed most unexpected, Brother Obi-Wan. I give you my
oath that I shall not reveal the true identities of anyone in
our company. Will that suffice?"
"It will." Obi-Wan looked at Padme. "Should I . . .?"
"No. She's unused to riding so far; it's a kindness."
"Very well. If you'll come with me?"
Less than an hour later, Obi-Wan found himself alone in the
room assigned for himself and Qui-Gon. It was only then that he
allowed himself to shake. How could he have acted like that? It
made no difference that he had used the Force to ease the
aching muscles of both Padme and the Countess. All that
mattered was that . . .
"You used your talent in a way you think is unethical,"
Qui-Gon's voice said from the door. "If for nothing else about
this thing between us; I hate myself for that."
"No," Obi-Wan replied quietly. "It was that blind choice we
made on the parapet. I know what's happening to me now."
"I can't see that; you bury it deeply."
"And I shall continue to do so until I know what I'm going to
do about it." He turned to see Qui-Gon's still face. "Don't
look so hurt, my love. You will not tell me everything before
you go into a battle, and I will be battling this knowledge for
some time now."
"Must you do so alone?"
"Only if you are not at my back to give me strength."
"Oh gods, Obi-Wan." Qui-Gon moved swiftly across the room to
pull Obi-Wan from his chair. Gripping his arms tightly, he
pulled the Jedi into a close embrace. "Always, love, always.
You can trust me on that."
"I know." Obi-Wan felt it again, the hunger of the bond
reaching out toward him, and he knew Qui-Gon felt it as well;
the blue eyes were darkening with lust. "How much time do we
have?"
"The landlord promised dinner in an hour. I told everyone
except the few I have on watch to rest until then."
Obi-Wan pulled back and his hands fumbled hurriedly with his
clothes. Qui-Gon, who had been about to do the same, stopped
and simply watched instead. He had no idea how it was that he
brought out such hunger in this beautiful man. Obi-Wan was a
young man, with a face like a god and a body like mortal sin,
whereas Qui-Gon knew himself to be only an aging mercenary
captain with a once-broken nose and a body built for killing
people.
"You think that's all you are?" Obi-Wan asked softly. "You
think that's what I see when I think of you? Undress."
Surprised, Qui-Gon stripped his clothing efficiently, leaving
his sword on the floor near the head of the bed. He was a
little embarrassed as Obi-Wan, also naked, walked up to him,
looking him over.
"I see power," the Jedi said softly. "I see the face of a man
who does not pretend to be anything than what he is. I see
strength and the grace of movements so powerful that I could
never hope to imitate them. I see beautiful blue eyes that have
seen so much horror and I know a mind that has never given in
to insanity."
Obi-Wan's eyes suddenly went glassy and Qui-Gon reached for
him, only to be stopped by some invisible shield. He was still
aware of their bond, but he could get nothing from Obi-Wan's
mind.
"I see the future. I see my student and my teacher. I see us
standing in the chaos of change with the power of choice placed
in our hands this time. I see blood and roses."
He staggered and Qui-Gon could suddenly reach him. He helped
his lover to the bed, watching as Obi-Wan shook his head. "Did
I say anything?" the Jedi asked.
Qui-Gon repeated word for word and Obi-Wan shook his head.
"Interesting; I'm usually not that talkative. And I usually
faint afterward. I think you give my visions strength."
"What does it mean, your vision?"
A shrug. "I don't know. The part about change . . . that's been
part of every vision I've ever had or that anyone's ever had
about me. And the teacher/ student part makes sense. I've been
drawing on your knowledge to deal with the countess and the
men, and I know you're leaning on me for patience. I will teach
you how to use your sensitivity . . ."
"And what?" Qui-Gon interrupted. "I'll teach you to be a
soldier, how to lose your temper and how to suck cock?"
"I figured the latter on my own," Obi-Wan said, with a falsely
demure smile. "You will teach me to be strong in adversity,
and, if need be, how to look death in the face."
"Ah, Obi-Wan, I would shield you from the face of death."
"You do me no favor if you lock me away from the world when we
are to change it."
Qui-Gon shrugged, not wanting to think about changing the
world. He scratched at his beard. "And the blood and roses?"
Obi-Wan shook his head. "Both red. Ever since I was summoned to
your court, I've seen red in visions and dreams." He stared
into the distance for a moment and then flung himself on his
stomach. When he looked back at Qui-Gon it was with open need
on his face. "Enough, please, my love. Come and anchor me to
the real world. I need you inside me."
It wasn't the insanely greedy pleas Obi-Wan had produced the
night before, but Qui-Gon found the simple request far more
arousing. Obi-Wan had the look of a man who had performed some
great feat, run miles or fought for hours, and now needed to be
reminded that something else in the world existed. And oh to be
needed, not wanted because he was king and the road to power,
but to be needed when he was merely a vagabond on the road . .
.
Qui-Gon grabbed the small bottle he'd snatched out of the inn's
kitchen and approached the bed. "Tell me, Obi-Wan. Last time
was so . . . frenzied; I need to know what you want from me."
"I . . ." Obi-Wan blushed a little. "I really can't remember
much of last night. I know it felt amazing, and that we bonded,
but, well, I have a much better memory of you taking me in your
mouth this morning."
Qui-Gon nodded. "I understand." He sat down on the bed, and
bent over to kiss Obi-Wan. A soft kiss, a gentle kiss even,
that quickly warmed until the two men were biting each other's
lips and gasping desperately for air. Qui-Gon plunged his
tongue into Obi-Wan's mouth and then moaned when, a moment
later Obi-Wan returned the gesture.
They were on their sides, facing each other and as they kissed,
Qui-Gon's hands moved easily over Obi-Wan's body. He could
feel, faintly, through their bond, the places that afforded his
lover the most pleasure, and he lingered there, nipping at the
hollow of Obi-Wan's neck, and tracing the tips of his ears with
a warm finger.
When Qui-Gon's hand swept down Obi-Wan's side to grasp his hip,
Obi-Wan moaned and arched into the grasp, pulling his mouth
away from Qui-Gon's. "I feel like clay," he said breathlessly.
"You're forming me into a creature made for this."
"Mmmmm," Qui-Gon murmured from his place at Obi-Wan's chest.
"Not just for this."
"Here and now then," the Jedi replied, crying out when one of
Qui-Gon's large hands moved from his hip around to grasp a
buttock. "Oh gods, Qui-Gon, please!"
Qui-Gon ignored him, to suck and then lightly bite each nipple
in turn, and Obi-Wan writhed, his own attempts to touch his
lover impossible under the tide of sensation that washed over
him. When Qui-Gon moved and then exerted pressure on Obi-Wan,
the Jedi followed blindly, finding himself on his stomach.
Qui-Gon's hands were now 'sculpting' his back and buttocks,
dipping lower now and then to rub gently along his legs.
"Never knew . . ." Obi-Wan gasped, ". . . how being touched
could . . . ohhhhhh."
Qui-Gon smiled and let his fingers slowly slide along the cleft
of Obi-Wan's ass again. And again his lover moaned and moved up
into his touch. "You're so sensitive," he whispered, leaning
down to Obi-Wan's ear.
"Can't help . . . it. Your touch . . . is driving me mad. Go
inside me, love, please?"
Qui-Gon wanted to draw it out more, give Obi-Wan even more
pleasure, but hearing those words spoken in that husky voice,
made him all too aware of his own need. Leaving one hand
resting on Obi-Wan's ass, he reached toward the floor and found
the bottle of oil he'd grabbed in the inn's kitchen. Pouring a
generous measure of it into his hand, he was soon making
Obi-Wan ready. It didn't take much and he knew, probably from
the bond, that Obi-Wan was aware enough, in spite of the moans
and gasps that rewarded each twist of Qui-Gon's fingers, to
relax.
Qui-Gon slide in between legs that spread open for him, and
hastily oiled his impatient cock. Wanting Obi-Wan had turned
into needing him, the bond between them pressing at him like an
opponent in battle. He fought it, feeling the pain build up in
his head, because he couldn't move too fast, couldn't hurt
Obi-Wan in any way.
But now Obi-Wan was feeling it as well, everything he was was
nothing compared to the still uncompleted bond. He was
trembling under Qui-Gon, empty and aching and desperate for his
soulmate to join with him. He gathered the Force around him and
pulled Qui-Gon down on top of him, crying out unhappily when
even that contact wasn't enough.
Qui-Gon reared back for a moment when he felt the strange power
let him go. Then, realizing what Obi-Wan had been trying to do,
he reached down, grabbed his lover's lean hips and pulled him
up. "Yes!" Obi-Wan shouted. "Now!"
When he felt the blunt head of Qui-Gon's cock moving into him,
the relief was so great and yet it made the lack of connection
even more painful. Obi-Wan pushed back hard, ignoring the faint
burn, and hearing only Qui-Gon's startled shout of pleasure.
This was what Obi-Wan had wanted, this physical
emptiness a symbol for his soul's emptiness. As Qui-Gon settled
back on his heels, pulling Obi-Wan into his lap, thus driving
his cock even further inside Obi-Wan, the Jedi reached down and
grabbed at Qui-Gon's hands as they rested on his hips.
Qui-Gon cried out in surprise as his mind was entered, almost
in the same way he entered his lover. Once more, the barriers
he'd set up fell, and he could see Obi-Wan's falling, and they
were again together in every way possible, mind, body and soul.
How long they remained like that, unmoving while their minds
met and absorbed each other, neither knew. It was only when
their bodies demanded completion that Obi-Wan leaned forward
and put his hands on the wall to brace himself. Qui-Gon moved
with him perfectly, knowing Obi-Wan's intentions even as his
lover acted on them. Every move was like that; as Qui-Gon moved
forward, Obi-Wan moved back to meet him. There was no
clumsiness or fumbling for rhythm; each knew the other wanted
to extend this magic as long as possible.
Qui-Gon forced himself to move slowly all the way into
Obi-Wan's tight heat and then almost all the way out, each
steady stroke met by an answering thrust from the beautiful man
in front of him. Obi-Wan made a sound that was something a
drawn out chuckle, and before Qui-Gon knew it, he was seeing
them.
He froze in shock, closing his eyes to see better. Somehow, and
instantly their connected minds showed him how, he was seeing
himself and Obi-Wan from a point outside their bodies. Obi-Wan
was still on his knees, his back arched in a smooth sweep of
gold touched skin, and at some point, Qui-Gon had leaned back
on his own knees, his weight resting on his hands. They looked
as if they were joined only in one place, each seeming to
struggle to pull away and then each drawn back to the other.
Both of us beautiful, both of us fleeing and coming back. I
do love thee, Qui-Gon Jinn.
As I love thee, Obi-Wan.
And then the vision was gone and the demands of their bodies
were too much to bear. Qui-Gon reared up and grabbed Obi-Wan
around the waist, pulling him back into his lap, going into him
deep and hard. Obi-Wan moaned so deeply that it was almost a
sob. This was better without the drug, better than being in
Qui-Gon's mouth, better than anything. His life was nothing now
but pure pounding pleasure, and when hard hands gripped his
hips, he moved with them, helping drive his lover ever deeper
inside him. When one of those hands slide along the length of
his straining cock, he screamed out his pleasure and came. A
second later, even as he still reeled from the orgasm, he felt
another wave of pleasure wash over him; Qui-Gon's climax was
just as shattering as his own.
They tumbled onto their sides, gasping and panting for a short
while. Then Qui-Gon stretched and grunted slightly. "I'm too
old for this, Obi-Wan. All day in the saddle, on no sleep . .
."
"And having spent part of the previous night in the saddle,"
the Jedi shot back.
"Obi-Wan! Is that my humor I'm hearing?"
"It must be. They don't teach us to talk like that at the
Temple."
"Good," Qui-Gon replied. "It doesn't suit you."
"You'd have me retain my innocence?"
"All the better to corrupt you, love."
The Jedi shook his head. "I'm terrified," he said dryly.
Qui-Gon chuckled. "Why is it that, with my whole kingdom
falling around my ears, two possible Kasitland spies in the
midst of my company, and nowhere to go, I feel freer than I
have in years?"
"'The more you give away, the more free you become,'" Obi-Wan
quoted.
"Oh. And here I thought it was love. But don't tell anyone. If
it gets around that I'm a romantic, my reputation is shot."
Almost as if on cue, someone knocked on the door. Qui-Gon
grabbed a blanket and covered them both. "Well," he said, "they
had to know sometime."
Try not to look like a romantic.
"What is it?" Qui-Gon yelled, stifling laughter.
"It's Masik, Sir. I have a message from the Countess."
"Come in."
The young guard was the same who had helped Obi-Wan guard the
Countess and he didn't look at all surprised to find his king
in bed with the Jedi Monk. He nodded in salute and handed
Qui-Gon a scrap of parchment, which the king read.
"Tell her I'll look forward to dinner. That's all."
"Sir."
As soon as the door closed, Qui-Gon tossed the note to Obi-Wan.
"My lord," it read. "We must speak, and so I've asked the cook
that dinner for four be served in my chamber. I hope this is
agreeable to Your Majesty.
"One more thing. Tell your Jedi that he should learn to shield
better. I don't appreciate having my meditation interrupted by
your sexual antics.
"N."
"My Jedi," Qui-Gon grumbled. "That's what they'll all say."
"And they'll all be right. Just as you are my king.
Shall we dress and see what story she starts out with?"
"Aye, we should. Eat well at dinner, my Jedi, for tonight
you'll need you're strength when I prove to you that I am
indeed your king."
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