It seemed the world was made of rain. Droplets of water pelted the high windows of the fortress, shuddering as they collided, joining violently and sliding down the transparisteel. The rainy season had begun early, without warning, and Taganor had become a planet of mud and damp. Thunder rumbled softly in the distance, counterpoint to the crisp electric flashes above the solid mass of dark clouds.
The skin of the Regent's arms prickled as the static charge of lightning electrified the air. He stood motionless near the window, eyes fixed on a point very far away, reaching out with his senses, traveling the valleys and towns below on the wings of perception, tasting the very air, searching for some trace of his prey.
In his mind's eye, he still saw the dunes and harsh planes of the world of his birth, now overlaid by the damp greenery produced by agricultural engineering. If he touched his teeth with his tongue, he still felt the grit and scratch of sand in his mouth. It would never fade, that feeling of thirst and heat and desolation. His world was called Taganor now, but by any other name, it was still the place he was born, the place he was sworn to protect -- the place he would die.
Emotionless hazel eyes reflected back at him in the mirror made by the darkened window. He focused on his own image for a moment, looking at the grim set of his jaw, the tense muscles of his shoulders, the scars on his biceps disappearing underneath the tight, short sleeves of his black tunic. He crossed his arms over the flat, lean stomach, and dropped his gaze for a moment, waiting for the entry chimes of his chamber door.
He spoke as the soft chimes sounded. "Enter," he called, hand dropping to the blaster sheathed at his side.
"My lord." The Senior Chancellor entered the room, always dignified, always serious, and bowed gracefully as the door slid closed behind him. "You sent for me?"
"I've heard a rumor, Valorum. Perhaps you can confirm it for me." The Regent picked up half-finished glass of wine, studied it, set it down again. "A Jedi has come to this world and is hiding in the wilds near Espa. He may intend this to be his refuge."
"Your sympathy for the Jedi was well known among certain factions, my lord. Now there are so few left..." Valorum hesitated. "The Imperial edict is clear. We must, according to law, hunt this man down and end his life."
"Perhaps not." The young Regent looked up at his most trusted advisor. "I have other plans for this Jedi."
"To do other than the law demands would be to risk everything you protect here."
"I have held this world by will alone, my friend. They will not take it now." The Regent looked up, a determined expression on his face. "You know what's at stake."
"I do, indeed." Valorum moved past the Regent, looking out at the gray weather, at the startled atmosphere churning beyond the windows. "What is your command?"
"Send your most reliable people to find this man. If he is here, I want him alive. It's imperative that I speak with him. Something tells me this is the answer to our problems with the Sith." The advisor bowed and turned to leave, but was stopped by the Regent's voice. "Alive, Valorum. Is that clear?"
"Yes, Excellency." Another deep bow, and Valorum was gone to do his duty.
The Regent sighed, feeling weary and alone, and reached for his comlink, keying a particular, well-worn button.
"Yes, my lord?" came the response, instantaneous and filled with sultry humor.
"Come to me in my chambers," the Regent commanded, already smiling at the knowing tone of his favorite's voice.
"Immediately, my lord," the man on the other end responded.
As he turned from the comlink, the Regent surveyed the piles of datapads and hand-written messages littering the tables and couches. Managing the affairs of the heir had become an enormous task over the previous few years, and took all the cunning and skill he possessed. The Sith were formidable; their armies seemed vast. The Regent shivered, and his blood ran cold as he recalled his reaction to the first contingent of black-clad Sith warriors making their way down the ramp of an Imperial ship.
There was an ancient saying, one the Sith had chosen to disregard in their quest for dominance of the surrounding star systems. *Always two there are, a master, and an apprentice. No more, no less.* The balance of power dictated the need for a teacher and a pupil - but no others. It was written that great destruction would come if the balance of power was shifted so grievously to the Dark Side...but the prophecies were ignored, shoved aside like useless folk tales. The Regent remembered enough of the teachings of his youth to feel judicious fear of the power wielded by the Sith.
He reached to unfasten his form-fitting tunic, releasing the clasps across his chest. As the clasps were freed, the fabric gaped open, exposing an expanse of muscular, pale flesh.
"Let me help you with that, my lord." The Regent smiled as the deep tones echoed across the room, and turned to see a dark-haired man striding toward him, a smile lighting his blue eyes.
"You took longer than I expected," the Regent accused, an answering smile playing about his lips.
"I ran," the dark-haired man said, and his hands closed around the Regent's waist as their mouths met, touched, devoured one another. Those talented hands ran beneath the Regent's tunic, finding and brushing over tightened nipples, pushing open the tunic and forcing it back over dropped shoulders. Lips followed hands down the torso, and back up, biting at the shoulder, teeth sinking into the taut skin.
The Regent exhaled a hissing breath and pressed a hand to the back of his lover's neck, locking him in place as he allowed the pain to consume him for a moment. His other hand touched the side of the face buried against his neck, raising it to his caress, tongue forcing its way past the willing lips as they parted to admit him. He tasted his own blood, the salty sustenance of his life, and it aroused him.
Two not-so-gentle shoves, and the Regent tumbled backwards onto his bed, sprawled beneath the dark head which roamed his body. Deft fingers released his belt, then brushed across the hard length of his cock as they unfastened his trousers, freeing his erection.
A warm nose nuzzled the organ. "Beautiful," came the soft words, spoken against his skin, and the Regent growled softly. Liquid blue eyes raised to his as a pink tongue ran the tip of his cock, licking softly. "How will you take me, my Master?"
"Your mouth," the Regent gasped out, just as that mouth descended slowly on him, tongue twisting sinuously in slow, lapping circles, providing sweet suction, exquisite tightness. The Regent watched, spellbound by the slowly bobbing head, the wicked glance across his belly, the brush of silky black hair against his skin with every downward motion.
Hands arrested his movement, stilling his hips, and he obeyed their implied command because he chose to do so. His pleasure intensified, coiling against his mind, senses opening and catching fire as the scrape of teeth down his cock sent shivers of pain and delight through his body. He ran his fingers lightly down his own torso, nerves singing with the pure music of passion, and caught the fingers at his hip, twining his own with them, pushing them away.
His lover's hands wrapped around his buttocks and pulled him deeper, even as his hands rested on the soft black hair, setting the rhythm. He thrust more quickly, encouraged by the soft suckling noises, poised on the edge of a tempting precipice. Slowly, one inch at a time, he moved closer, allowing himself to near oblivion, and one look at the determined, sensual gaze which flickered up to his own sent him howling over the brink -- enclosed, devoured, owned.
The Regent fell back, limp, and his body was warmly covered by the other man, his lips touched and possessed with an intensity which left him breathless. "All for you, my lord," his lover whispered, as they shared the taste of a reckless orgasm.
"Come here," the Regent ordered roughly, drawing the other man nearer, enclosing him in an embrace, twining the two of them together.
"Is your mind free of worry now, my Master?"
"You please me like no other," the Regent replied, tracing his fingers across the swollen lips, the dark eyelashes, the small scar on the cheek. Absently, he traced the pattern, a broken circle, raised and angry against the smooth perfection of his favorite's skin. "When will you tell me how this scar was formed, Xanatos?" he asked, troubled by the injury.
"It's of no consequence, Master. Please...don't trouble yourself." The blue of Xanatos' eyes darkened, and he pressed gentle kisses to the Regent's face.
"I've told you many times, you may use my given name when we are alone," his master reminded him with a tinge of reprimand.
"I'm not your equal, Mas...Obi-Wan," Xanatos answered, hesitant. "I should not be allowed that liberty."
"You're allowed what I say you are to be allowed," Obi-Wan answered, swallowing the other man's protests with a kiss, delighting in the exchange of tongues and tastes for a moment, before pulling away. He took the time to delight in the sight of his pleasure slave, cheeks flushed, lounging across his bed. Xanatos was the picture of decadence, from his lush lips to the sparkling eyes, to the hand that idly stroked across his bared chest, feathering across his own nipples, darting inside his waistband, rubbing for a moment before withdrawing.
With regret, Obi-Wan said, "I can't linger here with you. I must meet with Valorum and the others." He sat up on the edge of the bed, rearranging his clothing.
"I understand. What is so heavy on your heart?" Xanatos' question was not unusual. Over the years, Obi-Wan confided many things to his favorite, who was only a few years older than the Regent, and had come to trust and respect his advice. Were it not for a quirk of fate, that turned the universe on its side and tossed aside what might have been, they would have been equals, engaged in similar battles.
Obi-Wan hesitated as Xanatos' hand ran smoothly up the length of his spine, touching the sensitive bare skin at the base of his neck, then withdrawing. "I've heard a Jedi may have come to hide on Taganor, and if that is the case, we are all in grave danger," he explained slowly. The hand at his back froze in mid-motion, then continued as if nothing had been said.
"Even if this Jedi is discovered here, you will find a way to make it clear none of us is involved." Xanatos' tone was decisive, persuasive.
"I hope so." Obi-Wan fastened his shirt, and turned to Xanatos suddenly. "Is there gossip in the seraglio?"
"There was word of an outworlder asking questions. It came through the women who went to market in Espa." Xanatos' eyes became clear as crystal suddenly, and Obi-Wan had an alarming sense that he was hiding something, but the feeling passed almost immediately.
Still, the Regent was disturbed by the powerful sense of deception. "Indeed," he said roughly, rising from the bed, running two hands through his short hair.
Xanatos was there beside him, comb in hand, and he quickly groomed the Regent, tucking the stray hairs into place, taking advantage of the closeness to drop tiny bites and kisses to his master's neck and shoulders. "Yes," he repeated softly, hands smoothing down hair, breath warm against Obi-Wan's skin, lips taking and retreating.
Obi-Wan stepped away impatiently and turned to take Xanatos in his arms. "Don't play games with me, my captive," he said, in a voice low and dangerous, his eyes sending a warning.
"Never, my master," Xanatos grinned, heart beating faster against Obi-Wan's chest. He leaned into the harsh embrace, molding his body to the Regent's, burying his face in the curve of the slender neck before him. "Unless the game is one you have devised."
"Wait for me in my chambers tonight," Obi-Wan demanded, teeth raking down the arched neck. His hand caught Xanatos' chin, pulled it forward to give him access to those willing lips.
"Yes, Master," Xanatos answered, before he was caught and possessed once again, all speech abandoned.
The small fire sizzled, assaulted by the driving rain. The Jedi poked at the base of the flames with a stick, willing it to continue burning. Smoke wafted up, wispy spirals trailing toward the sky. There had been no dry days on the once-barren world since the tall man had arrived, stowed away on a transport like illicit cargo.
He uncurled his large frame and stretched aching muscles, cramped by the cold. Taganor was a miserable place to hide, but there were no other worlds where he might go undetected. The bounty for Jedi, living or dead, was enormous - more money than many citizens would ever hope to earn in a lifetime. It was far too tempting for most to believe the rhetoric of the Sith. The Regent of Taganor was said to have turned a blind eye to more than one fugitive, which gave the Jedi hope of a new place to call home...even if that day came in the distant future.
Wind gusted through the makeshift tent, and the Jedi pulled the sodden fabric of his cloak close about him. It was poor shelter at best, but it would have to do. The forest was dense and deep, and he would be able to find food there, if the Force was with him. He would wait a few days before moving to a new campsite. In a week or two, he would consider sneaking aboard another vessel on his way to Yavin. The fractured remnants of the Order awaited him there, hidden deep underground - provided they had not yet been discovered.
The fire dwindled, giving off only smoke without heat, and the Jedi reluctantly threw wet leaves across it, smothering the tell-tale smoke. Pulling his hood tightly about his face and resting one hand on his lightsaber, Qui-Gon Jinn lay down to sleep, and dream fitful dreams.
Six slim interceptor speeders darted across the landscape, moving fast over the target area, scanners activated and running at maximum output. Their pilots sat attentively in the open-air cockpits, oblivious to the elements, eyes fixed to the array of sensitive equipment before them. Their instructions had been quite specific - any and all life humanoid life forms in the forested areas were to be stopped and questioned, and taken into custody if they resisted.
A sudden blip on the radar alerted the squadron leader, who quickly activated a tracking locator. "I have something, sir," he said, keying his comlink and sending the data to his commanding officer.
"Very good," came the soft response. "Triangulate and apprehend."
The six pilots increased their airspeed, angling toward a faint hot spot amidst a thick grove of trees and brush. Darting easily between tree trunks and tangled undergrowth, the small craft zeroed in on the tiny signal, which grew louder and larger as they approached.
With great skill, the squadron leader dipped smoothly toward the ground as a dark shape rose, startled out of its concealed shelter. "There it is," he alerted the others. "Shadow Two, Three, veer left. Four and Five, right. Six, with me."
Ruthlessly, they chased their loping prey through the foliage. Opening an external comlink, the squadron leader barked out a command. "Halt immediately, or we will use force to subdue you." The figure ducked ahead into low branches and scrambled right. "Fire a few stun blasts," the squadron leader instructed. A barrage of blasts rained down on the forest floor.
Immediately the running figure stopped and turned. A flash of green sparked to life, illuminating his tall body. Each blast was met by the glowing blade and harmlessly deflected.
"It's him," Shadow Five said grimly.
"Increase intensity and duration to maximum," instructed their leader. A barrage of blaster fire flew furiously across the woods, and the green lightsaber repelled them all, until there was nothing but an emerald blur, too fast for the eye to follow. Until, at last, a single blast got through.
A sharp cry, and the green light winked out as the Jedi crumpled to the ground.
"Take him," ordered the squadron leader, maneuvering into a clearing and setting down his craft. His commander would be most pleased.
"What other business is there, Valorum?" The Regent leaned sideways in his chair and propped his head on his hand.
"There is the matter of trade taxation, Excellency," Valorum answered, doing his best to ignore Obi-Wan's fingers drumming on the polished surface of the conference table. "The Sith have raised the taxation rate to half of all profits made from trade with Imperial worlds."
"What do you think of that, my prince?" Obi-Wan asked the heir, who was seated to his right.
"It was not entirely unexpected," said the little boy gravely. "The tariffs have risen every few lunar cycles in this system. It could have been predicted."
"Yes, it could," Obi-Wan agreed, eyes sparkling as he looked across the table at Valorum. "Thus it is a mystery to me why no one predicted it."
The senior advisors exchanged glances. "We had hoped for some accommodation, Excellency, given the nature of your agreement with the Empire," said a tall man seated next to Valorum.
"Then you've not been paying attention," Obi-Wan said sharply to his Imperial Ambassador. "We are not different than any of a thousand other worlds, with one exception." His eyes darted to the heir, and then returned to Ambassador Windu, before catching the eye of each man or woman at the table in turn. "Things are changing quickly, my friends. We must be ready before these changes come, or we will be swallowed up by them."
"Very true." Valorum began to elaborate, but was stopped by the press of his aide's hand on his shoulder, and whispered words in his ear. "Shadow Squadron's commander to see you, my lord."
"Show him in," Obi-Wan said impatiently, gesturing to the door. As his guards hurried to obey, he turned his head and whispered conspiratorially to Anakin. "You will conduct this interview."
"He frightens me, Obi-Wan!" the boy said, and Obi-Wan could feel waves of genuine apprehension flowing out from his charge.
"All the more reason for you to become accustomed to this. You will have to learn the importance of hiding your fear, Anakin. You must always appear strong, in control."
"All right," the boy whispered, eyes locked to the approaching man, who stopped and bowed. "Report," Anakin ordered in a clear, strong tone.
One corner of the man's mouth curled up in a small smile, but his tone was respectful. "We have captured the Jedi, Highness. He is unharmed and in custody. We have had him inspected by a physician, and he has been appraised by a slavemaster, should you decide he is to be used for barter."
Obi-Wan's eyes darkened, a small point that was not missed by the heir.
"Who authorized you to contact a slaver?" the boy asked coldly.
"I felt it would be prudent to see the worth of your property," came the answer.
"You overstep yourself, commander." Anakin nodded to the door. "You're dismissed."
The commander bowed and looked to Obi-Wan for confirmation.
"You heard him, Maul. Have the man brought to me in the Hall of Ceremonies as soon as he is able." Maul bowed again, and with a last amused look at Anakin, departed the room.
"Very good, Anakin," Obi-Wan soothed the young boy, who shivered. "You may yet find there is nothing to fear where Maul is concerned."
The boy's face told of his disagreement, but he said nothing.
"Bring him."
The harsh command was without emotion. Servants scrambled to obey, fearful for their own safety if they should fail. One of their number bowed and ran to the opposite end of the Hall of Ceremonies, whispering in the ear of an attentive guard at the door. A hush fell among the courtiers as their Regent sat forward on his throne, intent on the presentation of his prize.
Soft gasps of admiration and envy rippled through the assembled crowd as the doors swung open slowly to admit a small cadre of armed men, weapons drawn. In their center, a tall man walked, head held high despite his lack of clothing. What remained of his tunic was bunched about his waist, leaving his torso bare. The marks of his captivity were plain; dozens of half-healed bruises and scratches covered his chest and back.
All eyes followed the captive as he was pushed forward, prodded and urged by many impatient fingers. He stumbled and fell, sprawled on the tiled floor, and pressed his face against the cool mosaic patterns beneath his cheek.
"Up, Jedi!" hissed one of the guards, bending close, tongue next to the captive's ear.
Anger flared in the Jedi's blue eyes but was quickly suppressed as he got slowly to his feet, dragging himself toward the dais by will alone. He reached the platform and was quickly shoved face down at the Regent's feet, bare body exposed, every muscle and sinew contorted against the binders and shackles.
"Remove the restraints." The Regent turned to the closest man in his personal guard, gesturing with the merest flicker of a finger.
Valorum's eyebrow arched, and he leaned closer. "That wouldn't be wise, Your Excellency. May I remind you, this man is a Jedi? His powers are beyond imagining."
"Not beyond mine, Chancellor. I assure you, he can't harm me." The cool hazel gaze turned back to the guard. "Must I repeat myself?"
"No, my lord," answered the guard, already bending to slip the small key into the lock, releasing the shackles. He dragged the prisoner up onto his knees in order to reach and open the binders, and for the first time, the prisoner and his captor locked eyes.
Time seemed to stand still for a moment as each man took the measure of the other. Something disturbing drifted through the room, making the crowd restless, causing vague murmurs of unease among the courtiers. There was a feeling of raw power, restrained, at the ready.
"Well, Jedi. Your freedom is at an end." It was not said cruelly, but the words struck the tall man, and the pain of acceptance flickered through his eyes. "You did well to evade capture by the Sith these many years. However, once I decided to find you, there was little you could have done to elude me on this world."
"Why was it so important to you to find me?" asked the captive, genuine curiosity in his eyes.
"I have my reasons." The Regent's face betrayed nothing. "What is your name?"
"Qui-Gon Jinn," the prisoner said.
"I am the ruler of this world, and you will address me with respect," admonished the Regent quietly. "There are rules, and you will follow them." He studied Jinn's upturned face, searching for signs of acquiescence, finding none.
He raised his glance to the guards. "Why was this man so badly beaten?"
With a short bow, the captain of the guard explained, "He resisted, Excellency. I was forced to take extreme measures. He was difficult to subdue, even with the use of drugs."
"Drugs?" The Regent's eyes narrowed. "Force-inhibiting substances?"
"Y-yes, Majesty," the man confirmed. "The same drugs you ordered be used...I followed your orders..."
"Silence," the Regent ordered. Something akin to admiration passed across his face; even under the influence of drugs, Jinn's command of the Force was impressive, almost enviable. He studied his captive for a moment, and then came to a decision.
"I've been searching for you, Jedi," the Regent said, descending the five steps of the dais and dropping to one knee before his prisoner, totally unafraid. Muffled sounds of protest came from behind him, but the Regent ignored his advisors' dismay. A smile turned his lips up, but the warmth of it did not reach his eyes. "I have need of you. And we will speak of the reasons later, in a place where there may be a free exchange between us."
"That may never be, my lord, as long as I remain a prisoner within your palace." Jinn's voice, light and cultured, carried the undertone of authority he'd doubtless used without a second thought all of his adult life.
"Many things change, with time," the Regent said, reaching out a hand to touch the Jedi's bruised face. One finger swept quickly down the side of his cheek, retreating before the touch could carry heat and warmth to Jinn's chilled skin. "You'll be given fresh clothing, food, a place to sleep. See that you take advantage of what is offered to you. You will need your strength in the days to come."
"Yes, my lord." Jinn's tone carried no mockery, just simple deference to a head of state; yet, there was no sense of enslavement in his attitude.
The Regent stood gracefully and backed away as Jinn allowed the guards to lift him to his feet. Jinn stopped, regarded the Regent for a moment, and gave a short bow before he was led off.
"I question the wisdom of allowing this man to have access to simple amenities. Would it not be best to break him first, and gain his cooperation later by restoring what is lost?" Valorum asked.
The Regent watched after the retreating Jedi until he was gone from the Hall of Ceremonies. "What he has lost can never be restored," he answered finally, sounding strangely sad. "I have no wish to further disgrace this man if there is a way to persuade him to assist me."
"You can never trust him."
"If the Jedi pledges his assistance to me, gives me his loyalty, there will be no question of trust," the Regent mused. "The word of a Jedi is absolute."
"I still think-" Valorum protested, but Obi-Wan stopped him with a look.
"You worry too much, old man," he said fondly. "I will be cautious. Of that, you need have no fear. After these many years as my chief advisor, you should know I do nothing without purpose."
"As always, my lord." Valorum inclined his head with a small smile.
"Be assured," Obi-Wan said softly. "I have a plan in mind."
The Regent made his way through the fortress, accompanied by a number of guards, surrounded by them, and yet never safe. There seemed to be deep tension among his elite guards, some simmering undercurrent, difficult to place. He tried to shake off the feeling of danger, but it crawled around the base of his spine, and he had learned from experience never to ignore his inner voices.
At the wide doors of the harem, the guards stopped automatically, assuming positions outside the perimeter as their ruler keyed in a personal code and waited for the optical scan to confirm his identity. The doors ground open, and he shouldered through them, impatient.
The smells of sweet erreria blooms flooded his senses, bringing a smile to his face. Xanatos knew what he liked, and went to great lengths to see the seraglio was always supplied with fresh erreria and callia flowers. There was an underlying scent, the perfume of exotic women, the musk of waiting men, and he ignored the arousal of those memories as he made his way through the dimly lit halls.
Distant sounds of soft chatter, the music of women's voices and the low tones of men, reached his ears from deeper within the seraglio, but many were asleep at the late hour. He never sent for anyone so late, unless it was Xanatos or a new favorite, and his habits were well known among his people. Most retired for the evening if he did not arrive by twilight. He was grateful to be known so well, for it spared him the interruption of pleasantries and small talk this night.
He reached the quarters he sought and entered without preamble, catching the tall Jedi in the act of dressing. His long hair was still damp, falling heavily about his shoulders, letting loose small drops of water to run in rivulets across the broad chest.
Unconcerned, Jinn toweled off and drew on a brown tunic, belting it across the buttery soft trousers he wore. Barefoot, he dried the excess moisture from his hair before facing the Regent, a look of resigned expectation on his face.
"I trust the quarters are suitable for you," Obi-Wan said wryly, amused by the Jedi's presence of mind and lack of fear.
"They will do," Jinn answered, a small smile curling the corner of his mouth. He bowed slightly to the smaller man, a suitable gesture of obeisance.
Obi-Wan nodded his head in acknowledgment, noting Jinn's eyes fixed on his waist for a moment. "Your weapon," he said, taking the lightsaber from his belt and placing it on the table nearest the door. At Jinn's questioning look, he asked, "You think me unwise to leave this weapon within reach of your hand?"
"I think you are a man who does little without purpose," Jinn answered slowly, reaching out with the Force and encountering a solid wall of resistance.
Obi-Wan felt the subtle probe and responded to it with a gentle push, blocking the other man's efforts completely. The two men looked long at one another, a struggle for understanding and dominance taking place without a word being spoken.
"Why did you come to Taganor?" the Regent asked, seating himself on a low couch and reclining, his posture more at ease than his wary mind. "Did you think to hide here?"
"I knew of this world when it was but a barren place," Jinn answered, taking the only other seat in the room, eyes never leaving the Regent despite his apparent lack of concern. "I felt it would be an appropriate planet to seek shelter."
"You've not kept current with the times, Jedi. This world was re-engineered by the Empire. Now there are no places to hide, no areas not controlled by the Sith, directly or indirectly. The spaceports and scum are gone for good."
"And what has the price of all this...bounty...been?" asked Jinn, a faint hint of sarcasm coloring his tone.
"Many deaths," Obi-Wan answered, hand unconsciously twitching near his blaster. He allowed himself to feel the weight of the knife strapped to his leg, the energy of the weapon at his side, and took comfort from their heavy presence. "I've done what was necessary to save the lives of those who remain here. And to protect the heir on this world."
"Your internal politics are of no consequence to me." For a moment, the sadness of several lifetimes was reflected in the blue depths of Jinn's eyes, eloquent in their pain. "I have seen the deaths of dozens of worlds at the hands of the Sith. What would you have me say?"
"Say nothing," suggested the Regent, smiling. "Instead, offer me your loyalty. I need your help, Jedi." Obi-Wan sat up and planted his legs on the floor, knees falling open as he rested his elbows there, clasping his hands. "I am in need of protection, and I can't rely on the guards who surround me now. There are whispers about these halls...I can't close my eyes too tightly when I sleep, for fear I will not wake."
"Again, your safety is not my concern," Jinn said. "You serve the Sith."
"I serve no one," Obi-Wan said, fury underlying his proud words. "The Sith leave me in peace because they recognize I cannot be controlled. This world will not be conquered. I have a duty..." The Regent stopped abruptly, acutely aware of the other man's inquisitive gaze. He rose from the couch, striding toward the low table, and poured a glass of a pale yellow liquid. That midnight gaze lingered on his body, causing strange shivers of anticipation and desire to cascade down his spine. The sensation was unfamiliar, too close to losing control...he was not ready for it.
"If you know anything of the ways of the Jedi, you understand why I cannot assist you in this. We-" the Jedi began, but his words were stopped by the outstretched hand of the Regent.
"I know more than you might imagine," came the reply. Obi-Wan lifted the glass and downed the fiery concoction, then refilled the glass, and another waiting beside the pitcher on the table. He crossed the room, offering the glass to his prisoner, who hesitated a brief moment before reaching for it.
Fingertips touched briefly, lightly, as the glass changed hands. For a moment, Obi-Wan's world seemed smaller, confined to the room he occupied, the spark in his hands, the uncertainty in his body. Once again, their eyes found one another, like magnets seeking their match, and something passed between them. A sort of soldier's bond, perhaps....
Obi-Wan threw it off quickly, withdrawing his hand and moving away, circling the room like an animal caged too long. "I know your duty is to protect the innocent, to seek peaceful resolution to conflict. You would violate no oath by assisting me, for in that way, you would protect the boy in whose stead I rule." Keeping his tone casual, he added, "You know of the prophecy...the Chosen One?"
Jinn was on his feet, moving before Obi-Wan was even aware of it. This man is truly powerful, he thought, before the Jedi was so close to him he barely could step aside. A wave of Force energy rippled toward him, like an arrow on course to its target.
Without effort, Obi-Wan deflected the energy, lifting his body with the remnants of that power and easily somersaulting through the air. He reached out his hand, called the lightsaber to him, and tucked it into his palm. His thumb moved against the activation switch, but he did not power the weapon. He met Jinn's astonished eyes, and a grin came across his features, born of delight and pride.
"You are Force adept...trained in its use," Jinn said, stating the obvious, unable to keep shock from his voice. "Who are you? What do you know of the prophecy? Who is your heir? What -"
"All things in good time, Jedi." The Regent allowed a measure of satisfaction to overtake him. He opened his senses to the Force, and found the room charged with emotion. Jinn's body sent subtle signals of attraction, admiration, and his own body responded to the lure, like a captain to a siren call. "I haven't survived this long by revealing all I know," he added.
"You can't expect my trust after...I am your prisoner," Jinn reminded him.
"I expect nothing but a decision," Obi-Wan clarified. "Will you serve me as bodyguard?"
"I owe you no allegiance," the Jedi answered, a spark of defiance deepening the blue of his eyes. "I cannot pledge to protect you."
"But you will serve me, Jedi, in one capacity, or in another. You belong to me. That fact should now be apparent to you." The Regent's fingers traced the sleek shape of Jinn's lightsaber, and the delicate threat implied by his actions was not lost on the Jedi. "You are my property, Qui-Gon Jinn. Nothing more. Your former life is over. And I will treat you as well as you deserve. If you make this difficult, I will see to it your life is a miserable one. If you cooperate, there will be rewards."
"No reward will make me break my oath as a Jedi. We are forbidden to interfere in the causes of war. I am not convinced of your motives. And you give me no evidence, no reason to believe this child is...what you say. It's ridiculous." Jinn's tone became cutting, harsh.
Kenobi took the refusal with stoic calm. He expected no less. "I owe you nothing, Jedi. But you will serve as I see fit. If I cannot trust you, you will be put to use elsewhere...where trust is not an issue between us." He moved to the wall nearest the door, keying a small com panel there. "These apartments you occupy are part of my seraglio. You understand what that means?"
"A harem," Jinn said flatly.
Kenobi's head tilted as he watched the reaction settle in. "You will remain here, and your only function in this world will be to pleasure me. If you don't succeed, you'll be put to death."
"There is no death, there is the Force," Qui-Gon said quietly.
"For you, perhaps," Obi-Wan said, nodding slowly. "I anticipated this. Stubborn adherence to your Code will gain you nothing."
The door slid open, and two guards entered, pulling a very young man between them. Fearful eyes, crystal blue, peered out from beneath golden lashes before the boy was pushed to his knees, forehead to the floor. "This boy is you, Qui-Gon Jinn. He stands in your place when punishment is warranted. The lash will mark his skin instead of yours. And if he dies under the punishment, I will find another to take his place." Obi-Wan waited until the full impact of his words was clear. He moved closer to Jinn, tilting his head up, so close he could smell the scent of his skin. "You will obey."
Jinn said nothing, only lowered his head to look at the man whose body pressed close to his. "Why did you not use this threat to force me into service as your bodyguard?" he asked, wondering, waiting to know, fearing the answer.
"It's a question of want," Obi-Wan answered, one hand roaming the front of Jinn's tunic, stopping over the belt, resting there. "And I find I want...something I cannot provide for myself." He reached up with one hand, pulling the Jedi's head down, and their lips met briefly in an explosion of need, of desire that should not exist, of power shared and reciprocated, before Kenobi pulled away and listened to the resonance of the Force within him. Somehow, this was right, and Jinn knew it also; it was in his eyes, in the acceptance he felt of the passion between them.
Without another word, the Regent turned, gesturing to the guards, and was gone from the room, leaving Jinn alone with his thoughts.
End.
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