Master Apprentice Archive Quick search:

Son of the Empire

by MrsHamill (thamill@cox.net)

Back to the beginning

CHAPTER FOUR

The next morning's breakfast was far cheerier and felt more 'normal' than the previous day's.  When Qui-Gon arrived, he found Anikin already there, on his mother's lap, talking excitedly about Qui-Gon's lightsaber.  It was a story Anikin must have been practicing, unfortunately, as he related it with a completeness that was startling.  The Empress gave Qui-Gon a look that was part humorous and part alarmed, but Anikin didn't even notice.  The moment Qui-Gon sat, he found himself with a lapful of young boy, hugging him tightly.

"I didn't have any bad dreams last night, Master Qui-Gon," he said softly.  "But I did have a dream where you and me were fighting off really bad guys, and I had a green lightsaber, just like yours.  It was wizard."

"That sounds very exciting, Ani," Qui-Gon said with a smile.  Anikin allowed himself to be lured to the table by the smell of food, and Matrin began serving him.  "Good morning, Exalted Majesty."

"Good morning, Master Jinn.  I understand I have you to thank for my second son's abrupt love of all things Jedi."  Her face twisted into a wry smile.  "I'm not at all certain whether to be grateful or worried."

"After my talk with Maul last night, I may join you in hiding under the bed, Majesty."  His dry words made her laugh.

Obion came into the room, followed closely by Maul.  He looked vastly improved over the day before, though he did pause and flush when he saw Qui-Gon sitting across from his mother.  "Obi."  The Empress was smiling at her son and had her hand extended.  

He took it, bending to kiss her cheek.  "Good morning, Mam."

"How do you feel?" she asked him, and he swallowed.

"Better."  Turning from his mother, he gave Qui-Gon a long, enigmatic look, then nodded a hello.  With a half smile, Qui-Gon nodded back.

A loud fussing heralded the arrival of Maisen and Cliadle.  The older girl had her half-sister by the arm and was all but dragging her into the room.  Obion suddenly laughed and walked over to them, picking Maisen up like a sack of tubers and tossing her over his shoulder.  "Having difficulty, sister?"

"Oh, that child!"  Cliadle had to speak loudly to be heard over Maisen's complaints.  "Good morning, Obi.  You look better."  She leaned up and pecked Obion's cheek, and he smiled at her in return.

While Cliadle greeted her father and Qui-Gon, Obion carried Maisen -- still squirming and complaining -- to his mother.  "I seem to have found a rather obnoxious growth, Exalted Mother," he said, trying to put his hand over Maisen's mouth and getting bitten.

"We shall have to have it removed then, Eldest Son."  The Empress shook her head.  "Maisen.  Be still."

"Then make Obi put me down!" Maisen demanded.

"I shall have him put you down in your room, where you will stay all day if you do not start acting your age and rank."  With a thunderous pout, Maisen finally subsided.  "That's better.  Now, your brother will put you down and you will eat your breakfast and we will not hear another word of complaint from you, yes?"  The pout increased, but the Empress merely raised her eyebrow.  "Yes?"

Maisen grumbled something that might have been an acquiescence, and Obion put her down next to her chair.  Without a word, Matrin put a plate full of food before her, and she sat and began eating.

Anikin, who had  jumped up to hug both Maul and Cliadle, turned to Obion, laughing as he hugged his brother.  "You got her good, Obi."

Obion ruffled Anikin's hair.  "Thanks, Ani."

"You gotta come see Master Qui-Gon work out, Obi.  It's so totally wizard!  He has a green lightsaber, and it..."  

Qui-Gon winced and sighed as Anikin went off, once again, into the wonders of a Jedi lightsaber.  Obion and Cliadle were listening with incredulous expressions on their faces, and Qui-Gon sent an apologetic look to the Empress.  "I'm truly sorry, Exalted Majesty."

Aliamon walked into the room as he spoke.  "Sorry about what?"

Unfortunately, Anikin felt he had to start all over again.

"I'd like you to begin training the girls on the basics of Force control, Master Jinn."

Qui-Gon sighed -- he knew it had been coming.  They sat in their usual place in the Empress' garden, watching the birds feed as voraciously as Anikin at a table.  

The Empress picked up on his sigh, for she gave him an apologetic look.  "Maul told me your reaction last evening.  I realize I'm asking a lot, Qui-Gon, but..."  She bit her lower lip and he saw the mother, not the Empress, for a moment.  "Whoever it is has gone after Obion... what if Aliamon is next?  Or Cliadle, or Anikin?"

"I understand," he replied.  They sat in silence for a long moment while Qui-Gon struggled to speak.  She was trusting him far more than he felt he deserved; he could be no less trusting of her.  But it was a hard lump in his throat he had to speak past, very hard.  "I welcomed this posting, Majesty, for several reasons, not the least of which is the fact that I... I don't feel, or even act, I suppose, very much like a Jedi, any longer.  And I'm no longer being treated much like a real Jedi, either."  She was obviously puzzled, but granted him the boon of silence, waiting for him to continue.

"My last padawan was Xanatos T'Crion, a beautiful boy from Telos who was so very Force-adept it was almost frightening."  He smiled sadly as he let his memory drift back.  "He became my padawan at seven, and I watched him grow, watched him become a man, become a Jedi, guided his steps to the Light.  Then, we received an urgent communication from Telos, something about an invading army, something about a person called the Dhro."

He leaned forward and cupped his hands over his face.  "Things moved so quickly... Xan was within months of taking his trials, becoming a knight.  The team sent to Telos went missing and we had confirmation: the Dhro was a conquering force that was spreading."  He glanced at her, but she was merely listening, enrapt in his tale.  "If you look on a holomap of the galaxy, you can see it.  Way out on the fringes of known space, that's where he came from, and he devoured worlds whole, without pause.  Telos was next on his agenda.

"Xan begged to be allowed to go, to fight for his homeworld.  I was frightened -- all right, I was terrified -- that if he did go, I'd lose him forever.  Lose the bright light that was like my son."  In his mind's eye, he saw Xanatos again, looking proud, worried, scared and happy as his braid was cut.  "Finally, he went to the Council and proposed a bold plan.  He would pretend to be a rejected Jedi, a Turned Jedi, and try to infiltrate the Dhro's operation.  I was adamantly against it.  I knew... I just knew... if he went, I'd never see him again.  I argued against it.  I was overruled."

A warm hand landed on his shoulder and he looked up in surprise.  The Empress' eyes were soft and filled with compassion.  "I was overruled because, in the end, my wishes weren't important.  Xan had a good chance, at least in the eyes of the Council, so he went.  The worst part was pretending to repudiate my padawan, my son, in order to cover for him.  And he has managed to infiltrate very high in the Dhro's army.  But I am so afraid for him, so dreadfully afraid for him, Majesty."  He sighed, briefly wondered why he was trusting her with all his baggage and just as quickly dismissed the question.  He trusted her, as much as she trusted him.  Looking down, he added softly, "A Jedi is not supposed to feel fear, you see.  Or love so strongly that it causes pain to say goodbye.  Or form attachments.  And it's all wrong, all so totally, terribly wrong."

They were silent again for a few long moments.  When the Empress spoke, her voice was sad.  "I... Ani and Ali aren't the only ones waking with nightmares, Qui-Gon.  I have not slept more than a few hours a night for the past year.  I see our deaths, at the hands of the Dhro, at the end of blood-red lightsabers.  And I am very afraid."  She ran her hand down his arm to take his hand.  "A wise man once said to me, where there is life, there is hope.  I have hope, Qui-Gon."  

He couldn't look at her, not while his emotions were so very near the surface, but he squeezed the hand in his.  "I will do what I can, Majesty."

"I know, Qui-Gon.  And my name is Adi."

The days began to blur into each other, a haze of teaching and learning and meeting after endless meeting.  The official treaty between the Sith and the Jedi needed completing, and Minister Palpatine proved to be as obstructionist with that as he had been with resolutions against the Dhro.  Bruck Chun continued his pursuit of Aliamon, though she was finding it easier to rebuff him as her meditations took her repeatedly to her calm place.  

And after several days, Obion joined the girls at 'meditation' class.

Initially, it was at his mother's command -- he didn't want anything to do with Qui-Gon, and Qui-Gon was fairly certain he knew why.  The best way to overcome conditioning, however, is to be made aware of it.  Qui-Gon watched, pleased at how Obion's grudging respect for all things Jedi grew.  When they were able to genially argue over some esoteric point or other, and even draw the girls into it, it felt like a victory.

They kept the other part of the lessons between themselves: the only ones who knew were the Empress, the children involved, Maul and Qui-Gon.  To everyone else, he was simply helping them calm and relax, since meditation was an accepted practice for leaders who had a heavy burden.  Qui-Gon didn't think Anikin was ready yet for anything so sophisticated, but he knew it would be just a matter of time.  He was already cognizant of tact and the need to keep certain things to himself.  The poor boy was indeed going through a growth spurt, and everyone concerned despaired of finding clothing to fit him for more than a few days.

Obion took to the Force like a natural.  All three of the older heirs had instinctual, native talent for sensing and using the Force, only they didn't call it that.  Intuition, persuasion, good reflexes -- they were all something else entirely, something that went unspoken.  Qui-Gon's lessons helped them focus and realize those skills for what they really were, and while he doubted they'd ever be as adept as a youngster raised in the Temple, they were able to grow in the right directions under his tutelage. It was easier than he had feared and more difficult than he had imagined, all at once.

At the end of one of their classes, Cliadle had a remarkable insight.  "Obi, your aura looks... different."

Frowning at her, Obion stayed in the half-lotus he preferred.  "What do you mean, Cli?"

"It's... I don't know how to describe it."  Frustrated, she looked to Qui-Gon, who said nothing but encouraged her to continue.  "When I look at Master Jinn, I see his as a beautiful, shining green, and Ali's is like that, only blue and not quite as bright, kind of dim in a way, but not by much.  But yours..."  She shook her head, still frowning.  "It's like... I don't know.  It's blue but it's not."

Auras were one of the first lessons learned in the Temple, and Qui-Gon saw no sense in changing that in this venue.  He hadn't expected Cliadle's Force sense to be able to pick up on such nuances so quickly, however.  After thinking it over, he decided to take a more diplomatic rather than honest path.  "Sometimes, when we are troubled, our auras can reflect that, Cliadle."  He had the attention of all three heirs now.  "I know when I am working on a particularly knotty problem, or if I have a lot of anger stored up for some reason, my aura can actually darken."

"But, Master Jinn..."  Aliamon was obviously confused.  "You told us we should release our emotions, not hold them in."

"That's true, Ali, and I'm not advocating differently."  He sighed, and looked at all three of them in turn.  "There are some emotions that are more difficult to release than others, and there are some emotions we simply do not want to release at all."  He smiled at their puzzled expressions.  "Love.  Compassion.  Joy.  I see no need to release those emotions to the Force, despite what the Jedi philosophy might be regarding them."  And therein lies my pain, he added to himself.

"Well, that makes sense," Cliadle said.  Her brow was still furrowed in thought, and Qui-Gon had the sudden thought of what a fabulous padawan she would have made in the Temple.  "And those are not exactly wild emotions either, are they?"

"What do you mean?" Ali asked.

"Think about it, Ali.  Master Jinn says we should release our emotions to the Force -- emotions like hatred, envy, that kind of thing.  And that's good.  You know as well as I do that hating someone can make you feel sick inside."

"Yes, I suppose that's true."  The softly worded agreement came from Obion, and Qui-Gon quickly turned to the heir, trying to hide his surprise.  But Obion was watching the girls with a far-away look on his face.

"Right, see?"  Cliadle was warming to her subject and once again Qui-Gon marveled at the girl.  "Releasing those emotions is good.  It makes you feel better, not worse, and helps you to see the why of something.  And it's a good thing he's taught us how to do it."

"I just wish I could do it faster," Aliamon said with a sigh.  It still took her almost fifteen minutes to calm and find her center.

"You will, my dear."  Qui-Gon patted her hand.  "You will.  Every day you get a little bit better."

"But you do it almost instantly," Obion said to Qui-Gon.  "I've seen you."

"Beg pardon?"  It was Qui-Gon's turn to frown.

"At dinner, your first dinner.  Before you noticed the wine was poisoned."  Obion was giving him a penetrating stare.  "You closed your eyes briefly, and when you opened them again, you looked... no, that's not right."  He chewed his lip thoughtfully for a moment before proceeding.  "You felt different.  Is that how you knew the wine was poisoned?"

Astonished but trying hard to hide it, Qui-Gon blinked at Obion.  "In a way..." he said.  "Because I am so attuned to the Force, the Force can alert me to immediate danger.  I had just grounded and centered, so it was even easier to receive a warning."

"Will we be able to do that too?" Obion asked, staring at Qui-Gon.  

"I don't know."  Qui-Gon stared back, thinking.  "You may.  Generally it takes years of practice -- but in that case, you would have been trained almost since birth.  In a way, you already use it, and we've discussed it before."  He spread his hands.  "You might."

"Think how useful that would be," Cliadle started.

Not exactly interrupting her -- for she continued to talk, just changed her focus to Aliamon alone -- Obion quietly asked Qui-Gon, "Why did you?  Ground and center, I mean."

To speak the truth or to dissemble again?  He was afraid if he didn't speak the truth, Obion would pick up on it, and he didn't want to alienate the young man, which was the last thing he wanted.  "I wanted to see you, really see you."

"Why?"

"Because..."  Qui-Gon paused and was aware all three young people were looking at him now.  "Because I sensed something, and I couldn't tell what it was."

"Something about me."

"Yes."

Obion turned to Cliadle.  "You said my aura looked peculiar."  He turned back to Qui-Gon, and though Qui-Gon could feel his trepidation, it was to Obion's credit that he asked the question anyway.  "What's wrong with my aura?"

Qui-Gon took a deep breath and slowly let it out, all the while staring at Obion.  The heir was a truly beautiful young man with a keen mind.  If Cliadle would have made a wonderful padawan, Obion would have been spectacular.  "Before I answer, I think you need to do some reading.  Cli, are there books that cover the Jedi-Sith war?"

"Yes, Master Qui-Gon, I've been studying them."  She sounded concerned, and he smiled gently at her.

"The best one, then, please give it to your brother.  And to Aliamon as well, but Highness, you need to read it first."  He looked between them again.  "Our time for today is up anyway.  Tomorrow, we'll discuss it."

Obviously troubled but understanding too, the three young people got to their feet quickly.  Qui-Gon followed a bit more slowly.  "Ah, getting old is a terrible thing," he complained in a humorous voice.

To his surprise, Obion immediately and soberly responded.  "You're not old, Master Jinn," he said.  "You're not old at all."

Oddly, his words made Qui-Gon feel very warm inside.

When his meeting schedule permitted, Qui-Gon took to working out just before dinner.  He used the same room each time, and sometimes, when his tutoring schedule permitted, Anikin would watch him.  This day, however, he found a different watcher: Obion came into the room about halfway through his normal set of exercises and watched him, arms crossed before his chest, leaning up against the wall.  Qui-Gon did his best to ignore the young man as he moved through the steps of another kata.

Finished, he powered off his 'saber and dropped his arms to his sides.  Obion picked up and threw him his towel, which Qui-Gon wrapped around his neck as he cooled down.  "Anikin is right," Obion said.  "That is pretty wizard."

"It is, hm?"  Qui-Gon chuckled.  "I think Anikin likes the idea of the 'saber, that's all."

"Probably, but that's not all of it."  Qui-Gon frowned at the cryptic remark, but Obion continued.  "I've been taught to see Jedi as a threat, just because of that, what you were doing."  He looked very sad.  "It certainly doesn't feel like a threat."

"Highness, I give you my word, for what it's worth; I am no threat to the Sith.  You and I know how important it is we reach an agreement, so we may fight the Dhro together."

Obion nodded shortly, but the sad expression on his face didn't go away.  "May I see your 'saber?"

"Certainly."  He presented it to Obion, handle first, and showed him where the power buttons were.  Stepping aside, Obion lit the 'saber and moved it around, obviously fascinated.

"What can it cut through?"

"Pretty much anything... except another 'saber."  Qui-Gon began some gentle stretching to further relax his muscles.  "Every Jedi builds his own, it's something of a rite of passage."

"What's the power supply?"

"This one uses Ilum emeralds as the focus, so it needs a smaller power source," Qui-Gon began.  He continued cooling down while he discussed the mechanics of the 'saber with Obion.  It appeared Obion shared a passion for things mechanical with his half-brother, Anikin.  Qui-Gon wondered how many ship models Obion had gone through while growing up.

When Qui-Gon finished his explanation, Obion handed the 'saber back.  "If you wanted a different color..." he began, tentatively, "like, blue, what would you use?"

"Sapphires."  Finished, Qui-Gon wrapped the towel around his neck, under his hair.

"And if you wanted, say... red.  What would you use then?"

Qui-Gon could tell Obion was far more keenly interested in the answer to that question than he had been to the other.  "Actually, there are no Ilum rubies.  There is a stone for a red blade, a grossulite that's not found on Ilum.  But it's very rare, and Jedi don't use it."

"Because it's rare?"

"That and for other reasons... because of the way it resonates in the Force, because of its inherent instability, reasons such as that.  And because it's tradition.  Dark Force users always had red 'sabers.  Of course, they used synthetic crystals which produced dark red blades, not the grossulites."  Obion raised his eyes to Qui-Gon's, and suddenly Qui-Gon realized Obion was having nightmares too.  "Another part of the tradition is that the ancient Sith more often used the grossulite, only occasionally using blue or green Ilum crystals; but there were very few Sith who wielded a 'saber without becoming Jedi first.  There are none at all, now."

"There will be soon, though, won't there?  Once you're done training us."  Obion's voice was bleak and Qui-Gon gave into temptation and touched the young man's arm, trying to reassure.

"Highness, I do not foresee teaching any of you how to use a lightsaber.  It would draw far too much attention to you."

"Attention -- like from the First Minister."  Bleakness turned to bitterness, shoved down.  "But I would like to learn those moves, those... katas?" Qui-Gon nodded reluctantly, and Obion continued.  "They help focus you, don't they?  I can tell you're grounded when you move in them."

"Yes... for me, sometimes, exercise is a form of meditation.  Others often feel the same way."  Qui-Gon shook his head, once again surprised at the acuity to the Force Obion showed.  "But there are other forms that don't require a weapon.  There are eight which are called 'open-hand' forms because they don't require the follower to physically hold anything."  He took a deep breath, wondering, even as he spoke, why he was doing it.  "The first form any padawan learns is an open-hand form.  I'd be glad to teach you, if we can find the time."

Obion's head came up and he looked at Qui-Gon, full in the face.  When Qui-Gon had first seen Obion, he thought his eyes were more green than blue... now, however, they looked more gray, deep blue-gray, than any other color.  

What he saw in Qui-Gon's face must have reassured him, for Obion nodded, slowly.  "I would appreciate that.  I'll set it up with our secretaries."

Swallowing, wondering what he was getting into, Qui-Gon nodded.

Not even his evenings were sacrosanct any longer, Qui-Gon mused with a resigned sigh.  He warmed enough water to brew tea for at least three people, while he read over the latest information from the Temple.

Alderaan was holding its own against the droid army of the Dhro -- so far.  They wouldn't last, and the Jedi had been attempting to create enough of a diversion to allow the royals from House Organa to escape.  The eldest son and heir to the throne, Bail, had been fighting to remain on the planet but it seemed his father had won that argument.  There was still no sign of Queen Amidala, but that might actually be a good thing: the Dhro couldn't find her either.  

Mace Windu had found out about Qui-Gon's queries to the Temple Healers.  Qui-Gon had little doubt that he could infer what was going on in the palace.  He sent Qui-Gon a pointed note about not going native, whatever that meant, and a very barbed inquiry about the treaty, asking yet again for a status report on it.  Qui-Gon sighed to read the missive:  Mace wasn't so much an obstructionist as he was a pragmatist, and he had never liked the Sith.  Qui-Gon knew he had to respond at some point, but wished to put it off as long as possible.  They had all been too busy to do much work on the treaty anyway, though Qui-Gon had the invaluable help of Bellen on the wording of various drafts and codicils.

A tap on the door turned out to be Maul, not that Qui-Gon was surprised.  The tea was just ready and he poured each of them a cup.

"There's still no word from Queen Amidala, but I think we can expect the major players of House Organa to show up within a few weeks."  Qui-Gon handed over the crystals which contained the latest information.

"That will relieve the Empress," Maul said quietly, tucking the crystals into his belt.  "I understand you're going to be teaching Obion some exercises."

Smiling wryly -- Maul seemed to know everything around the palace -- Qui-Gon nodded.  "Like Ani, he was taken with my 'saber.  But I managed to dissuade him."

"For now."  Qui-Gon frowned in surprise at Maul's cryptic words.  "Has he said anything about who attacked him?"

"Nothing."  Qui-Gon sighed.  "And I didn't expect him to.  We don't know each other very well, Maul."

"Yet."  The man's cryptic words were beginning to get Qui-Gon rather flustered, though he hid it as well as he was able.  

"You don't know who did it to him? You know everything that happens in the palace."

"Most things, yes, I do."  Maul took a sip of his tea and placed the cup and saucer on the low table between them.  "Especially where the children are concerned.  But I'm hardly infallible, and Obion has been a grown man for some time.  He and I had a fairly heated discussion several years back, when he began to learn about his sexuality and wanted more freedom to explore his possibilities."  Maul looked as though he were suppressing a smile.  "I still knew, but I just pretended I didn't.  Now, though..."

"You have suspicions, I know you do."  Qui-Gon stared hard at Maul.

"Yes.  I do."  Maul looked grim.  "As I'm sure you have suspicions.  And I've been arguing with him -- when I can pin him down.  But regardless, we cannot move until the principal victim realizes he is a victim."  They both sighed.  "How are the Force lessons coming along?"

"Very well."  Qui-Gon finished his tea and poured himself another cup.  "Cliadle and Obion are more adept than Aliamon, but not by much.  Obion has discovered there's something 'wrong' with his aura, thanks to Cliadle's insights."

Maul lifted his eyebrows in shock.  "He did?  I mean, she did?"

"Yes.  To both."  They stared at each other in consternation for a moment.  "I'm not sure what to do about it, either."

"Would it be a bad thing for him to learn the truth?"  Maul was very serious about the question and it took Qui-Gon aback.  "I mean to say, if he knew someone was compromising him, tainting him, would it set off any triggers the person might have planted?"

"Oh."  Blinking, Qui-Gon thought about it seriously.  "I'm not sure.  I've never run across this type of... mind control before."  Qui-Gon gnawed on his lower lip while he thought.  "That might be a good question to put before the healers."

"I don't want to alienate him any further than we've done," Maul said sadly.  "He's very upset with me at the moment, and it... bothers me."

"You couldn't," Qui-Gon assured him.  The level of Maul's care for the children of the Empress was touching.  "The taint is there, and yes, it might make him defensive, but I sincerely doubt it could completely change his personality.  I find it hard to believe it could do more than..." Cripple him psychically? an acidic voice in Qui-Gon's mind filled in.  Ignoring it, Qui-Gon continued.  "His honest love for his family and them for him may be his salvation."

"I'd like to think you're right."  Maul rubbed his jaw and sighed.  "Let me know what the healers say, please?"

"Always."

Qui-Gon hadn't been looking forward to the next meditation lesson, for the very reason he mentioned to Maul.  The Temple healers had been, once again, of dubious help.  They could not tell Qui-Gon definitively whether discussion of the taint would trip any buried triggers. Obion brought a book with him to the garden, passing it to Aliamon without a word.  The irrepressible Cliadle asked him if he'd liked it.

"I don't think like or dislike are the proper words here, Cli."  Obion's words were serious, but his tone was lighter.  "There are things I don't understand in this.  Like why we would outlaw the use of the Force, when it is clearly something we can feel.  And why would the Jedi be held at fault for these 'Dark Force' users?  Both the Jedi and our Sith ancestors fought Freedon Nadd and his kind."

"That's true," Qui-Gon conceded.  "The Jedi and the Sith come to the Force by different paths, Highness.  To the Jedi, the Force is something to be used, to be in communion with, to live within.  To the Sith, the Force was always a religion, sometimes a harsh religion.  The Force, to the Sith, was frightening at times.  The Jedi, however, learned to overcome that and sought their peace within it."

"If you don't understand something, or understand how something is done, you tend to fear it."  Cliadle, the scholar, was nodding her head as she spoke, but Obion and Aliamon were frowning.

"That's very true."  Qui-Gon smiled at her insight.  "It is the nature of humans to fear something not properly mastered.  We -- the Jedi -- sought understanding of the Force in order to use it.  The Sith merely worshipped it, then needed someone to blame when things went bad."

"All right, I think that's clear -- but why would my ancestors have accused your ancestors of causing the Dark Force users?  Freedon Nadd wasn't a Jedi, he was a Sith."  Obion looked as though he were on the edge of a precipice and wondering if he should step off.  "Wasn't he?"

"Yes, he was, though the answer to your first question is much more difficult."  Qui-Gon frowned too, ordering his thoughts.  "It comes down to superstition, I believe.  The Sith didn't want to... to manipulate the Force, didn't want to understand it.  It wasn't a principle to them, it was a god.  When someone suddenly begins to usurp your god for his own, turning it to his own, evil purpose, you need to look at why."  Qui-Gon spread his hands and sighed, sadly.  "The most convenient target was the Jedi, those who stubbornly insisted on understanding the Force and using it, rather than just worshipping it."

Aliamon was nodding, but Obion was scowling in thought.  "That's just wrong," he muttered.

Qui-Gon shrugged.  "I agree.  But it doesn't change the situation."

"So, you're saying basically, in order to stop fearing a thing, you must understand it."  Obion gave Qui-Gon another of his penetrating stares, and Qui-Gon smiled.  His lessons were sinking in.

"That is indeed what I've been saying, Highness, as your sister pointed out."  Cliadle blushed prettily at Qui-Gon's compliment.

Obion nodded slowly, his eyes focused on something far away.  "I understand."  After a moment, he pulled himself back to the present.  "Why did you say I needed to do this reading before we discussed what's wrong with my aura?"

Taking a deep breath and mentally girding his loins, Qui-Gon spoke, choosing his words with utmost care.  "I wanted you to read about the Dark Force users, Highness.  I wanted you to read what they did, how they did it... and what it appeared to be like, how it affected their... victims, and their victims' auras."

Cliadle gasped and Aliamon's jaw dropped.  But Qui-Gon only noticed it peripherally -- he only had eyes for Obion, who paled.  "I'm..."  Qui-Gon could feel Obion's panic, and reached out, both physically and mentally, to help.  He heard Obion swallow hard before he could speak again.  "I don't..."

"Obi..."  Cliadle reached out as well, though Aliamon seemed frozen in shock.

"You're saying..."  Obion looked around the garden, at Cliadle, anywhere but at Qui-Gon.  "I don't... like... what you're saying."

"I know."  Obion's arm under Qui-Gon's hand was warm.  "I know."

"Who?"  Aliamon's slightly shrill voice broke the tableau.  "Who, Master Qui-Gon?"

Cliadle slid over to her sister and embraced her tightly.  She seemed to be just as frightened, but was handling it better.  "We don't know, Ali."  Qui-Gon swallowed, wishing he had better words to say.  "We don't know."

"We?"  Obion dragged Qui-Gon's attention back.  "Mother?  Maul?  They know?"

"Yes, they know."

"After the other day, then.  That's when they knew.  And when you knew."  Obion's voice was bitter and self-flagellating, and Qui-Gon squeezed the arm he still held.

"No, I knew that first night.  Remember?  There was nothing I could say, though.  Nothing I could do."

"And there's still nothing you can do, is there?  I'm tainted, and there's not a damn thing anyone can do about it, is there?"

"Yes, there is."  Obion's flushed face snapped up at Qui-Gon's firm assertion.  "I can teach you, teach all three of you, to use the Force, how to understand it, how to use it to guard against those who would turn it against you."

"That's why!"  Ali's voice was surprised but calmer.  "That's why you offered to teach us meditation, isn't it?"

"Not exactly, my dear.  You were truly in distress, and I wanted to help where I could."  He looked between the young people, trying to reassure.  "Your mother was the one who asked me, almost commanded me, to teach you about the Force, how to do what you needed to do.  It was Maul who realized the benefits of doing so.  This was not just me, not just a stranger from a different world.  The decision was made by those whom you trust, and who love you."

"Like we do you, like you love us."  Cliadle's voice was firm, but Qui-Gon could feel the remains of panic underneath.

"Yes."  Abruptly caught in his own satori, it took Qui-Gon a moment to re-catch the thread of their conversation.  "I've come to care for all of you.  And I will do what I can to help you."

"But who is it?"  For all she had calmed her voice, it was evident Aliamon was still badly shaken.  "Who's doing it to Obi, and why?"

"We don't know, yet."  Qui-Gon did not look at Obion, for fear of what he'd see on the heir's face.  "And if you all learn how to guard against it, how to recognize it, it won't matter who it is, will it?  Because you will no longer be vulnerable to it.  And that is why I agreed to train all of you.  I won't have you vulnerable to whomever is doing this."

They sat in silence for a long moment, each caught in his or her own thoughts.  Qui-Gon let them have the time, since he knew they needed it, needed a chance to calm down.  After a few, long moments, he heard Obion take a breath, as if to speak, but a shout from across the garden made them all start.  It was Terrell, with Obion's page Galer, calling for Qui-Gon.

"Bellen has sent for you, Master Jinn, there's a priority message coming in, sir!"  

Qui-Gon surged to his feet, frowning.  The Force had given him no warning, but he still felt an urgency.  "One moment, Terrell."  He turned back to the heirs.  "I think I must attend to this.  I'll see you later, if I can.  Please try to meditate for the remaining time and I'll try to speak with you before dinner."

The last thing he saw before hurrying out after Terrell was Obion's face, twisted in pain and sadness.

Qui-Gon was late to the staff meeting, but he felt it was worth it.  He rushed into the room, bowing perfunctorily to everyone gathered.  The Empress frowned at him, and to his surprise, he found Obion sitting next to him, across from Palpatine.  Obion had always sat next to Palpatine in the staff meetings, and that worthy did not look happy.  Not that he ever did.

"We've found Queen Amidala," Qui-Gon said as he sat.  He passed the crystals to the Empress as he continued to talk.  "She's been in hiding on Naboo, actually, and the Gungans have helped her escape, once the Dhro was occupied with Alderaan.  She's on her way and should be here within a week or so, barring unforeseen problems."

"It is excellent news you have given us, Master Jinn."  The Empress sounded happy and her eyes glittered.  "What word of House Organa?"

"The Jedi are still working to get the ship with the royal house out of Alderaan's system."  Qui-Gon took a breath and calmed himself.  "Hopefully, it will happen soon, for intelligence says that Alderaan cannot hold out much longer."

"And just how are the Jedi working on this, Master Jinn?" Palpatine said.  He was all but glaring at Qui-Gon across the table.  "You led us to understand the Dhro was killing your brethren whenever they were found."

Qui-Gon made his voice as mild as he could, for all he wanted to strangle the man.  "When one is hiding from one's enemies, First Minister, the key to survival is not being found."  He heard Obion's very slight snort of laughter, but did not dare look at the young man.  "Now that we are aware of the Dhro's antipathy of us, we strive to stay out of his way, working from behind rather than in front."

"That is something I've been contemplating for some time," Minister Toor said before Palpatine could speak again.  "The Dhro has to be spread thinly by now.  Would it be to our benefit to begin working on strategies to take back some of the worlds he has conquered?  Catching him between the jaws of a trap?"

And they were off, debating strategies and reviewing some of the data about the Dhro's armada.  He had two: an automated one consisting of droids and one manned with some kind of cloned human.  The droid part would do the actual invasion, then the cloned army would mop up and establish the government.  The alleged tyranny... no news was coming from those worlds the Dhro had subdued.  

The meeting ran long, but Qui-Gon had made sure to clear his calendar after it.  He stood as the meeting adjourned, gathering his datapad and crystals, wanting to speak with Obion but not wanting to be blatant about it.  The Empress and Maul had left but Palpatine had come around the table and was speaking to Obion in a low, insistent voice.  He kept reaching out to touch, but Obion kept managing to avoid the touch, avoid his glances.  

Palpatine's attention to Obion made Qui-Gon angry, which, in turn, made him frustrated.  He should be able to release such emotions, they were not good for the body.  Taking a deep breath and letting some of it go -- the rest he shoved away -- Qui-Gon walked to them and caught Obion's eye.  "Your pardon, First Minister, but I believe his Highness and I have a meeting scheduled... in the gymnasium?"

Obion had far too good a bland face to show his relief, but Qui-Gon felt it nonetheless.  "Yes, that's right.  Thank you for reminding me, Master Jinn.  Good day, First Minister."

They walked down the corridor, being led, as always, by their pages, and Obion remained silent until they reached the corridor to his room.  "I'm dressed far too formally, Master Jinn.  Allow me to change and I'll meet you there in a moment."

His voice was as stiff as his posture, but Qui-Gon could see the seething beneath.  They separated, and ten minutes later, Qui-Gon was in the room, stretching, waiting for Obion.  He came into the room within five minutes, still preoccupied, still pensive.  He was wearing old, comfortable clothing, and when he saw Qui-Gon warming up, he did as well, without a word.

When Qui-Gon judged they were warm enough, he turned to face Obion full on.  "The easiest way to teach this, Highness, is to demonstrate.  You haven't been raised in the Temple, but you do seem to be athletic and I don't think you'll have a problem learning."

"All right," Obion said.  He lifted his gaze from the floor to Qui-Gon.  "Please, stop calling me 'Highness' when we're alone or with family.  My name is Obion, to... to friends."

Qui-Gon swallowed.  "It gives me great pleasure to consider you my friend, Obion," he said softly.  They stared at each other for a moment, wordless, then Qui-Gon shook himself and began stepping into the first kata of the first form.

Obion caught on to the movements of the katas as easily as he had taken to Force use.  Qui-Gon found himself nostalgic for his teaching days, as he did the katas mirrored, a reflection of Obion's movements.  He would have to see the Seneschal about getting a larger work-out room, one with a mirror.  Obion's regard was intense and focused, learning to anticipate the moves quickly and easily.  Before the allotted hour was up, they were more than halfway through the form, and both were sweating heavily.  

"I'd forgotten what it's like to teach and demonstrate that form," Qui-Gon said with a breathless chuckle as they walked in tight circles, cooling down.  "It's been a long time since I had a padawan."

"You have three of them, now, don't you?" Obion's voice was inflectionless.

"It's not actually permitted to take more than one padawan at a time," Qui-Gon told him gently,  "and you are all far too old to begin training as Jedi.  Though if it were, I would gladly take you and your sisters on.  All of you would have made spectacular padawans."

"Really?"  Obion gave him an enigmatic look.  "I would have thought you were getting tired of us by now."

"Never," Qui-Gon said with a little smile.  "Though Maisen..."

Obion barked out a laugh.  "All right, I'll believe you then.  Poor Mai.  She means well, but we've spoiled her rotten."

"She'll come around," Qui-Gon said, parroting earlier words.  "How did your meditations go after I left today?"

Shrugging, Obion slung his towel around his neck.  "We didn't actually meditate, I'm afraid.  Instead, we talked, and Ali is going to read that book."  He glanced at Qui-Gon out of the corner of his eyes.  "She's quite frightened now, you know.  Which, I suppose, beats being a target."

A target?  "What do you mean, Obion?"

He still wouldn't look at Qui-Gon, though he began doing some gentle stretches.  "Open.  Vulnerable to that damn... Dark Force user."

The bitterness in Obion's words made Qui-Gon's heart wrench.  "Well, yes, knowing an enemy is there, being on guard for it...  Perhaps that is better than being killed and not knowing why, but it is definitely exhausting.  I hope my teaching you -- all of you -- to guard against the user will help."

"Do you think it'll help my aura?  My... I think the word is 'tainted'... aura?"  

"Yes."  Sometimes the simple answers were the best ones.  "I cannot erase the taint, Obion.  There are only two people who can do that."  When he didn't speak for a long moment, Obion finally looked up, staring at him through pained and anguished eyes.  As gently as he knew how, Qui-Gon continued. "A mind-healer from the Temple, and you."

They stared at each other for a long time, and Qui-Gon tried to fill his gaze with as much compassion and reassurance as he could.  Finally, Obion nodded, and his mouth firmed into a line.  "I understand."

"I am here should you ever need something, anything.  I am honored and glad to be considered your friend, Obion, and I swear I will never do anything to make you regret it."

Wordlessly nodding, Obion took a deep breath and bowed, not looking at Qui-Gon.  "I thank you for those assurances, Master Jinn."

"It goes both ways, Obion."  When Obion glanced up, Qui-Gon said, "My name is Qui-Gon."

Dinner was strained and tense.  Anikin and Maisen were once again absent, and Qui-Gon found it amusing Cliadle and Aliamon were seated together, near him, and Chun was again all the way down the long table.  Palpatine was in high dudgeon and if looks could have killed, Qui-Gon would have been a melted puddle inside a minute.  

It was the girls who visited Qui-Gon that evening; in fact, they followed him back to his quarters and drank tea while they talked.  Aliamon had questions about Dark Force users, and Cliadle wanted to return the book she had borrowed.  They talked until it was quite late, then Qui-Gon sent them to their rooms, claming that, as an old man, he needed his beauty sleep.  Both girls found that incredibly funny, to Qui-Gon's consternation.

It was very, very late, and he had been reading on the sofa when he heard a bump at the door.  Before he could get up, it swung open, and he saw Obion standing there.  There was a three-quarters-empty bottle in one of his hands, and his clothing -- less formal than what he had worn to dinner -- was askew.

"Obion?"  Qui-Gon asked, walking to the doorway.

"I remember, you know," Obion said, and Qui-Gon reeled back.  The heir was well past three sheets to the wind, and that had to have been at least his second bottle.  "I memrember what you said."

He lurched into the room, stopping and raising the bottle for a deep draught before continuing, finally collapsing on the sofa.  "Obion..."  Qui-Gon shook his head and walked over to the sofa.  He pulled one of the chairs over, sat and examined Obion closely.  "You, my friend, are drunk."

"An assss-tute obslurvation," Obion replied, taking another swig.  "I am more than just drunk, I'll have you know.  I am very, very, verrrrrry drunk."

Sighing, Qui-Gon shook his head and leaned back in the chair.  "You are definitely going to feel like shit in the morning," he murmured.

"I am the heir to the Empire.  I can feel like shit if I want to."  One more swig and the bottle was empty.  "Whoops!  I need more."

"No, you need tea," Qui-Gon said.  He rose, pushing Obion back onto the sofa when the young man would have also risen.  

"I don' like tea.  Don' like it at all."

"You'll like your hangover even less," Qui-Gon said with a smile.  He got them each a cup of tea and laughed when Obion's nose wrinkled up.

"Oh, all right," he said, taking a sip and grimacing.  "But I still don' like it."

Qui-Gon managed to get a full cup of tea into the heir, who then slid sideways, slowly down until his head hit the sofa cushions.  Qui-Gon stood and lifted Obion's legs until they were also on the sofa, getting him as comfortable as possible.  Since he looked out for the count, Qui-Gon called Maul on the teleunit.  "I wanted to let you know I've got the heir to the Empire passed out on my sofa," he said, softly.

Maul's eyes widened.  "What?  He's drunk?"

"Very."

Sighing, Maul rubbed his face with one hand.  "There's a first time for everything, I guess..." he muttered.  "I think... I think I know who our user is, then.  Please try to keep him there tonight, Qui-Gon... I think he'll be safer with you."

But who will ensure I'm safe? he thought but didn't speak. "Keeping him here won't be a problem, I  think," Qui-Gon said wryly.  

"I thank you for calling me.  I'll make sure the Empress knows."

After another glance at Obion, Qui-Gon walked into his bedroom and fetched a blanket, which he spread out over Obion, after removing the heir's shoes first.  While he was tucking the blanket tenderly around Obion's neck, those deep gray-blue eyes snapped open, appearing far more lucid than Qui-Gon would have given him credit for.  

"I remember what you said," Obion whispered, and Qui-Gon recalled he'd heard that earlier.

"Said... when, Obion?" Qui-Gon asked, going to his knees next to the sofa, so he could look Obion in the face.  

"When you carried me to my bed.  You're so strong... You said... you said he'd lied.  That it shouldn't ever hurt."  Obion's eyes closed and one lone tear seeped out.

Helplessly, Qui-Gon reached out and caught the tear, lifting it on his fingertip.  It burned like acid, like desire.  "It shouldn't," he replied, also in a whisper.  "It never should be anything other than pleasurable."

"You know, don't you?"  Though his words were still slurred, speaking them slowly and softly made him understandable.  "You know... it's not s'posed to."

"Yes, I do."  Qui-Gon swallowed hard.

"Want you... want you t'teach me.  Show me."  Obion reached out and grabbed Qui-Gon's hand.  "Don't want it to hurt."

All of Qui-Gon's breath left him in a rush.  He couldn't deny he was attracted to Obion, and had been since he first saw the beautiful young man.  But there were so many reasons why this was such a bad idea, not the least of which was that Obion was the heir to the Empire of the Sith!  Anyway, this was not the way he wanted to...  Obion had been hurt, so badly, had been abused and forced.  He wouldn't betray his nascent friendship by taking advantage.

Although Obion was so drunk he probably wouldn't remember, regardless.

"I'm honored," Qui-Gon murmured, gently brushing Obion's red-gold hair out of his eyes.  "Honored and pleased you would come to me for this, my friend."

"But you're not gonna, are you?" Obion said, right on the heels of Qui-Gon's words.  "You... you're not... you're not like him, are you?"

"No, I'm not.  Though if you weren't so drunk your breath could light an after-burner, I wou -- might take you up on your offer."

Obion found Qui-Gon's words hilarious, though his laughter turned to hiccoughs almost immediately, something he found equally entertaining.  "I'm very drunk," he reiterated, in-between chortles and hiccoughs.

"Yes, you are."  

"I'm so drunk that I don' think I should stand up.  I don' wanna make a mess on your sofa."

"I think that's a good idea, Obion."  

The laughter wound down slowly, turning his expression serious.  "This is where my father lived, you know."  Obion's eyes were sad.  "He lived here when I was very little.  He was tall, like you."  After a moment, Obion added, "I wish I remembered him better."

"I'm sorry, Obion."  Qui-Gon was surprised to discover he was sorry, so very sorry.

"He's dead now, dead and gone and Mam cried."  Obion fell silent for a long time, but then finally spoke again.  "You said it shouldn't hurt.  It shouldn't have.  Rather stay here, with you, than with him, anyhoo.  You care.  You really care.  I thought he did..."  Obion's eyelids sagged shut, and Qui-Gon tucked the blanket around him again.  Just when Qui-Gon thought he had passed out again, Obion's eyes opened again.  "Not gonna leave, you're not gonna leave, you're gonna stay..."

"I'll stay," Qui-Gon said softly.  He cupped one of Obion's cheeks in his hand.  "I promise, I'll stay here."

"Thank you..."  This time the words ended in a gentle snore, and Qui-Gon was certain the heir was out for the count.  Finally.

He spent the night dozing on the chair next to the sofa, thinking hard, guarding Obion's sleep.  And very early in the morning, when Maul showed up with medicine for a hungover heir, he also had a datacrystal for Qui-Gon: an urgent message to him from the Temple, one he knew was bad news.

Alderaan had fallen.

CHAPTER FIVE

Qui-Gon hadn't gone to breakfast with the Empress' family; instead, he spent the hour or so before his normal morning garden visit on the teleunit, arguing with the Council in a live transmission.

This was nothing new, of course.  The Council always disagreed with him, never saw the same things he saw, never felt the Force's approval of his actions.  They called him a heretic, said he was a loose ion cannon, kept him off Selonia as much as possible so he wouldn't 'contaminate' the younger set.  It drove him mad at times, to know he was right and no one else saw it.  

They wanted to recall him, back to Selonia.  They'd read his reports and had somehow gotten it into their shallow little heads that the Empire would not stand against the Dhro and would, in fact, cave immediately, putting the Jedi at risk.  Refraining from calling them six kinds of idiot, he managed to politely tell them to fuck off with the promise that he would comm them again once he had spoken to the Empress over the situation.  Then he killed the transmission, thankfully as Mace was opening his mouth to speak again.

When he showed up at the garden, Maul was there to let him in.  This time, however, he did not stay at the door but entered with Qui-Gon.   The guardsman, Sarin, was standing at the door instead, and Qui-Gon wondered what was happening.  He found the Empress on her bench, Obion sitting on the ground at her feet.  They were speaking quietly until Maul and Qui-Gon came into view.

Maul waved Qui-Gon to the seat next to the Empress and when he would have protested, gave him a wry look.  "Adi knows the truth of it.  You talk, I'll pace."

Chuckling, Qui-Gon sat.  "Why here?"

Taking a deep breath, Maul crouched next to Obion.  "Obi, I need to tell him.  I know how you feel about it, but..."

"No, that's all right."  Obion's voice was as soft as a whisper, and he wouldn't look at Qui-Gon.  The Empress put her hand in his hair, soothingly.  "You're right, he needs to know."

"The man who raped Obion was Palpatine."  Maul didn't stand, didn't move, left his hand where it was, on Obion's arm, and his gaze on Obion's bent head.  

"It wasn't rape; I consented to it," Obion said levelly.  "I thought... I thought I loved... I thought he loved me."

"He doesn't, Obi.  You were coerced."  It was apparently a continuation of their previous argument, and Qui-Gon cleared his throat, stopping them from going further.  

"Obion, it's not consensual if you were under a compulsion, but that's beside the point."  He looked at the Empress, then at Maul.  "I don't suppose you'd allow me to kill the baseborn slime."

It wasn't a question, and Obion's head snapped up to look at him -- his eyes were wide and a bit bloodshot and completely astonished.

"Speak to that woman over there.  She's the only one standing between my blaster and the cretin."  Maul stood and, as he had said earlier, began to pace.

"Maul, stop.  I keep telling you..."

Once again, Qui-Gon spoke to stop an argument.  "Why here?  Why are we meeting here, and not in council, not, at the very least, putting the smug bastard in irons?"

"We cannot move against the First Minister at this time because his family will withdraw support for the Empire," the Empress said in a cold voice.  "Else you gentlemen would be standing in a line led by me."

Obion swallowed and seemed to press himself closer to his mother's legs.  Qui-Gon felt a burst of sympathy... he could only imagine Obion's emotional state at the moment: betrayed, coerced, and lied to.  It was enough to make the oldest and wisest of men feel fragile.

"And the reason we're meeting here is this is the only place I'm certain is free from surveillance."  

"Maul has taken paranoia to new and dizzying heights," the Empress added to Maul's words.  "It is something that has been a saving grace for us, several times, and a very large pain the behind at others."

Maul hadn't stopped pacing, didn't acknowledge her words.  "Adi, we're going to have to do something.  If he is a Dark Force user, who knows what he's capable of."

"We do not know that for certain," the Empress replied, implacable.  She turned to Qui-Gon.  "Can you say for certain Palpatine is a Dark Force user?  Can you say, without doubt, that he is the one who has tainted my son's aura?  We say Obion was coerced, he says it was consensual.  Can we prove otherwise?  To Obion?  To Palpatine's family?"

Qui-Gon took a deep breath, held it, and when he released it, he tried to release his fury as well.  "No, I cannot."  He tried to send his sorrow over that to Obion, but the heir merely smiled sadly back.  With a sudden resolve, Qui-Gon sat up straight, though he did not take his eyes from Obion.  "We're ignoring a very important piece to this puzzle," he said, nodding at Obion.  "Now that you know, now that you've become more attuned to the Force..."  Qui-Gon let his voice trail off and was gratified to see Obion take a deep breath and swallow hard.

"I can recognize it and avoid it."  Obion nodded at Qui-Gon and smiled.  "I'll need more practice, and more work with those forms."

"And I'll provide it."  They smiled at each other until Maul broke their reverie.

"That's only part of it, though," he growled, still pacing.  "Alderaan has fallen -- it hasn't even been three weeks!  How could that have happened so fast?"

"You're forgetting the distances involved, Maul," Obion said.  He looked much better, suddenly.  "We didn't find out about Naboo until well after a month -- or was it two months? -- after it had fallen.  Alderaan is closer, so we're hearing the news sooner."

"And the Jedi are staying within the thick of things, where they -- where we can."  Qui-Gon glanced at the Empress, but she was miles away, running her fingers through her son's hair.  "The Council has finally decided to only send paired or single knights out, and have recalled all the masters with padawans.  Several of us have been trying to get them to send all the children -- initiates as well as padawans -- off-world, somewhere safe."

"And where would that be?"  The Empress' voice was bleak.  "The Dhro seems bent on controlling the entire galaxy, Qui-Gon.  There will be no place safe for any of us, if he continues."

Maul suddenly stopped pacing, freezing almost in mid-stride.  He turned slowly and faced the group, and Qui-Gon could feel his sudden spike of fear.  "We've been so caught up in Palpatine as an internal threat," he whispered, "we've neglected the broader picture.  What if he's in league with the Dhro?"

The Empress' face drained of color.  "No..."

Qui-Gon swallowed and tried to calm and center himself, tried to release the sudden sense of terror Maul's soft words engendered in him.  "We don't know this, we can't know this," he murmured, trying to convince himself as well as them.

"Then we must find out."  To Qui-Gon's surprise, the hard voice came from Obion.  "If he is in league with the Dhro, then not even his family can protect him.  I will not tolerate that kind of treason in the Empire."

The Empress looked at Maul over the top of her son's head.  Her expression -- her entire bearing -- showed how proud she was.

The meditation lessons became very important after that morning meeting.  Since he couldn't cram the entire knowledge of the Force into a few sessions, Qui-Gon didn't try.  Instead, he concentrated on the shielding and recognition aspects, hoping to give all three of his charges sufficient information to help them against Palpatine, or whoever was the one wielding the Dark Force.  

But first, there was the Council to deal with.

"We are recalling you," were the first words out of Mace Windu's mouth when Qui-Gon commed the Council after his morning meeting.  "You have obviously gone native and can no longer be considered an unbiased, unattached envoy."

Qui-Gon closed his eyes momentarily, trying to release his frustration before he erupted.  "I refuse the Council's recall," he finally said levelly.  He heard a gasp from someone in the Council, but he only had eyes for Windu.  "I have no idea what you're talking about when you say 'gone native', though if you're referring to being open and honest with myself and those I'm living with, then yes, I have."

Windu looked on the verge of exploding, but Qui-Gon raised his hand and continued to speak.  "The situation has changed.  I cannot speak of how it has changed, not on an unsecured channel, but you will have to actually trust me on it.  I am where the Force wishes me to be, and that's all I need to know."

"You must bow to the wishes of your Council, Jinn," Windu ground out through clenched teeth.  "To do otherwise is to repudiate yourself as a Jedi."

"Fine.  Then I do.  For I am a true Jedi, one who listens only to the Force, not to a group of people who think they're doing the Force's will when all they are actually doing is imposing their ideas on others!"  It was a close thing, but Qui-Gon managed to keep his last words from crossing to a roar.

"You are perilously close to a cliff, Jinn," Windu growled.  "See that you don't fall off it."

"You are not here.  You do not know what has happened, how the situation has changed.  My conscience is clear, Master Windu.  Is yours?"

Plo Koon, one of the few non-human Jedi and a long-time friend of Qui-Gon's, spoke up in time to derail Windu's incipient explosion.  "Qui-Gon, you must understand our trepidation here.  We are not privy to your information, and as you continue to tell us, the situation has changed.  How has it changed?  Does your previous inquiry to the Healers have anything to do with it?  Will the Sith indeed ally themselves with us to fight the Dhro?"

"Yes of course they will!" Qui-Gon snapped.  "And as I said, I cannot speak of the situation on an unsecured channel, but yes, it has something to do with my note to the Healers."  He glared at Windu for a moment, then finally relented.  "I will attempt to get an encrypted datacrystal to you as soon as possible with all the information I have to date.  Her Exalted Majesty has offered amnesty to both House Organa and Queen Amidala, wherever she is.  Does that sound like someone who is not ready to fight the Dhro tooth and nail?"

"Get those crystals here on the fastest courier," Windu growled.  "We will contact you later, Jedi."

The transmission went dead and Qui-Gon managed to keep himself from throwing the teleunit across the room, but only barely.

Maul was able to help Qui-Gon get the datacrystals the Council wanted off-planet and hand-delivered to the Council on Selonia.  Qui-Gon offered to let him peruse the information before it went, but Maul merely gave him a crooked smile and shook his head.

With grim satisfaction, Qui-Gon noted that once the Council read his complete report -- which included the suspected Dark Force user and the heir's contamination -- he was left almost completely alone.  He continued to send them reports on the status of the treaty and they continued to send him reports on the Dhro's movements and each let the other be.

Palpatine kept trying to get Obion alone, but between the Empress, Maul, Cliadle, Aliamon and Qui-Gon, the heir was kept busy and away.  They still weren't positive the First Minister was the Dark Force user.  But the taint on Obion's aura was beginning to fade, due to his own ministrations, and Qui-Gon hoped that was leaving the Dark Force user feeling frustrated and furious.  Bruck Chun's pursuit of Aliamon increased, however, giving the Empress -- and Qui-Gon -- pause.

Qui-Gon's days narrowed down to interminable meetings and training, version after version of the treaty and constant requests for information.  He met with the three eldest heirs every morning -- instead of the language lessons that Maisen was, no doubt, relieved to be skipping -- and worked on meditation, shielding and recognition.  In the afternoons, he and Obion worked on the forms, which Obion was tearing through with an acuity that surprised Qui-Gon.  And in between, there were meetings where the treaty between the Jedi and the Sith was hammered, as quickly as possible.  Even the most Force-blind person realized the fire was coming.

For their exercise sessions, they had moved to a larger room, one with a mirror so Obion could watch himself move and Qui-Gon could see him better.  He was proficient in the first form in an astonishingly short time, and Qui-Gon let him progress to the second.  

When he was being honest with himself -- an unfortunately rare occurrence -- Qui-Gon admitted it was a treat to be required to watch that lithe body move, be required to touch it in order to teach.  As far as Qui-Gon was concerned, Obion was pure sexuality, sensuality defined; he moved with the grace of a feline and that, coupled with his purely masculine beauty, his intensity and his inner strength was enough to bring a Jedi master to his knees.  As often as possible.

And he was off-limits, dammit.  They never spoke of Obion's drunken request, and Qui-Gon figured Obion had forgotten it.  But he liked Obion too much -- hells, he liked all of the Empress' family too much -- to take advantage.  And there were far too many things pressing from all around them to even think about it.

Maul reported the incoming vessel to Qui-Gon, waking him up in the middle of the night, dragging him from his warm bed and sleepy dreams of Obion.  The ship was a broken-down freighter but it was broadcasting signals which matched that of Queen Amidala's House.

It was given permission to land just outside the city, and Maul himself drove a transport out to meet it.  The palace had a small spaceport attached to it, one that could receive smaller, diplomatic-type ships via a window in the particle shield.  This ship, however, was far too large for that: Qui-Gon, Obion and the Empress had to wait impatiently in the pre-dawn chill for the transport to return, hoping it carried Amidala, dreading it might not.

It did carry her, and her small retinue of handmaiden-bodyguards.  There was also a young man who was introduced as Panaka, her chief of security.  He was badly wounded, held together with bloody bandages and not much else, and Obion called for Dr. Pfelling immediately.  The two monarchs traded polite bows and soft words, then the Empress led the way into the palace, flanked by her guards and the handmaidens.  The Nubians were dressed very simply, and except for the fact that Amidala's face was heavily made up, they could have been any refugees from a war zone.

The Seneschal met them at the door to a large suite of rooms, and Qui-Gon could smell the food already prepared for them.  The handmaidens obviously could smell it too, and Qui-Gon was fairly certain the growling he heard was from stomachs and not any hidden animals.  Matrin served them efficiently, making sure there was plenty of food for them before excusing himself.

The door was no sooner closed when the Empress looked at one of the handmaidens -- the youngest-looking one -- and opened her arms.  "Padme... I was so worried, my dear."

The handmaiden's face crumpled as she fell into the Empress' arms.  "Oh, Adi...  They killed my father!"

Qui-Gon and Obion shared confused looks.  Maul leaned over and whispered, "The real Queen Amidala.  The bodyguards are also body-doubles, especially for situations like this."

Queen Amidala wept in the Empress' arms, with her handmaidens around her also offering sympathy and more tears.  The story slowly emerged: one of daring, pain and sorrow.  The young Queen's father had been killed by the clone troops as they tried to 'pacify' Theed, the capital city.  His sacrifice meant Amidala managed to win her freedom down what sounded like secret passages through waterfalls.  The Gungans sheltered her until she could find a way off Naboo.  The decrepit freighter was the best they could manage, and it only moved slowly.

Cliadle and Aliamon came in a bit later, when things had settled.  Cliadle, it turned out, had met Amidala before she was queen, on a trip to Naboo with her mother and father.  She and Amidala hugged tightly, amid more laughter and tears.

The Empress used the diversion to speak to Qui-Gon, Obion and Maul.  "We must think about how best to present this to the council," she said quietly.  "Amidala's presence and her story of the Dhro's atrocities against the Naboo and the Gungans will carry far more weight than reports from afar by people no one knows."  She sighed.  "I hate the Nubian way of selecting queens so very young."

"She's a strong girl, da'mrow.  She'll be all right."  Maul's voice was very soft, and Qui-Gon caught an aborted movement to touch the Empress.  

"I know, I know.  It just doesn't..."  She swallowed, watching the three young women talk.  "It would be like making Cli take the scepter."

It was a long and tiring day.  News of Queen Amidala's presence rocked the palace and the Jedi Council, who were thankfully speechless in the face of Qui-Gon's report.  Resolving to ask Maul to set up some sort of secure communications channel for him so he would be able to ask far more sensitive questions, Qui-Gon had to settle, for now, with hand-couriered reports.  The treaty negotiations were set aside for the time being, while everyone pondered Amidala's tale.

She presented it before both the Empress' council and via live transmission to the Jedi Council, later that day.  She had not brought much with her, but Cliadle was of similar height and build, and was happy to loan Amidala as many court gowns as she needed.  

Surrounded by her handmaidens, once again in her mask of makeup and with her hair in an elaborate coif, Amidala addressed the Empire in a room Qui-Gon had never seen: the enormous Assembly Hall, at the center of the public area of the palace.  Floating holocams both broadcasted (to the entire system) and taped her speech.  By doing that, the Empress hoped to raise patriotic fervor and hatred of the Dhro, but it also meant she circumvented her councilors and ministers, giving them little choice in the matter but to agree with her.

"Good people of Corellia, of the Sith Empire; the people of Naboo bring you greetings weighed with a heavy heart."  The young queen's voice was smooth, emotional only where needed, and conveyed well.  Her face was tightly shuttered as she continued to speak, her mostly inflectionless delivery actually enhancing her sad story of invasion, death and heroism.  The people in the audience were almost instantly on her side.  Qui-Gon thought it quite probable the rest of the system was, as well.

Beside him, Maul stiffened.  Glancing at his companion, Qui-Gon followed his line of sight and saw the First Minister speaking intently to the Empress.  They were both sitting in the front with the other ministers and councilors, flanked by the omnipresent guards who separated them from the commoners.  There was an empty space next to the Empress and Qui-Gon knew it was his to take.  He hadn't wanted to before, but now, he did.  He almost felt he must.

He glanced at Maul and found the man staring at him.  "What?" he asked.

Maul shook his head and frowned.  "Nothing."

Qui-Gon frowned as well, but let it go.  "I'm going to take my place down there," he told Maul, pointing with his chin.  "It's not like she needs protection, but I want to know what he's saying to her."

Maul nodded sharply in understanding, and Qui-Gon made his roundabout way to his seat.  He was careful to come up to the area out of sight from the First Minister, and was able to pick up some of their conversation.

"...sure of this course, Exalted Majesty?"

"Minister Palpatine, you are out of order.  Nothing has happened today that was not planned for.  Your obstructionism is beginning to chafe."

"It is not obstructionism to care what happens to our world, Majesty!  We do not know what we're letting ourselves in for, and I must object--"

Qui-Gon took his seat and smiled blandly at Palpatine.  "The young queen makes for a compelling case against the Dhro, does she not?"

Palpatine glared at him, then at the Empress, who completely ignored him.  His face suffused with what looked like inarticulate rage, he stood and left the seating area.

"He's going to be a problem, Majesty," Qui-Gon murmured.  "Regardless."

"We will deal with it as it comes, Master Jinn," she replied, also sotto voce.

When the Queen finished her speech, she received a rousing, standing ovation, led by the Empress who joined her on the dais.  "The Empire welcomes Naboo to Corellia," she said, one of her arms around Amidala's shoulders.  They were nearly of a height, which was surprising to Qui-Gon: the Empress felt so much taller to him.  "The Empire does not welcome the Dhro."  Qui-Gon heard both gasps and ragged cheers to that.  "The Empire will never accept an invading force to Corellia.  The Empire of the Sith has lived for thousands of years, it will continue to live for many more thousands, as a sovereign, autonomous body that bows to no one and nothing."  The cheers were beginning to pick up steam as more people began to see which way the wind was blowing.  "Should the Dhro wish to come here, he may -- as a guest to the Empire only.  There will be no conquering force permitted here, in the heart of the Empire.  We are the Empire, and the Empire bows to no one!"

Thunderous applause and cheers drowned out the few mutters of fear and caution.  Qui-Gon could tell many of the ministers still had reservations, and he imagined the scene must be similar in the Jedi Temple.  

It was a fine thing to say.  The Empire was strong and the Dhro was still far away.  

Qui-Gon sat in his place in the gallery for a long time after the room was emptied.

Amidala's presence and speech threw everyone off-schedule.  Several times during the day Qui-Gon saw Jaydon Matrin hurrying by in the corridors of the palace, often with several people in tow, carrying various things.  He looked harried, and Qui-Gon felt for him.

He hadn't expected to meet with the older children that morning, but he hoped he would still be able to meet with Obion to exercise.  As he approached the room they used, he heard voices through the half-open door and froze.  One of them was Palpatine's, and he was alone with Obion.  Once again, Qui-Gon found himself in a position to eavesdrop or interfere, and he chose to listen in.

Palpatine's voice was soft and aggrieved.  "How many times must I apologize, Obi?  I never meant to hurt you, you have to know that.  I told you, I warned you..."

"The fact that it shouldn't have hurt is beside the point, Roberd."  Obion's voice was firm and strong, and Qui-Gon smiled.  "Even the fact that you didn't stop when I requested you to, or the amount of damage I incurred at your hands -- all of that and none of that is germane.  The point is simply this -- I don't trust you any longer."

"Why?"

"Does it matter why?  Roberd, my feelings have changed towards you, and to be honest, I have no idea what your feelings are -- or what they ever were -- towards me."

"Don't do this, please don't do this.  I love you, Obi."

"I simply don't believe that any more, Roberd."

"How can you not?"  Palpatine's voice was gaining volume and becoming almost a whine.  "I know you know how I feel about you, Obi..."

"Roberd, it's done.  We're done."

"It's that damn Jedi, isn't it?"

"Roberd..."

"He's been training you, you and your sisters."  The unhappy, wronged tones had given way to anger and a kind of hurt jealousy that made Qui-Gon frown in confusion.  "He's been teaching you how to use the Force, hasn't he?  It may no longer be illegal in the Empire, but it's not exactly allowed either. You could cause your mother a lot of grief were this to get out."

In the long pause that followed that statement, Qui-Gon found himself blinking in shock.

When Obion spoke again, his voice was all low, hard incredulity.  "Are you threatening me?"

Qui-Gon heard Palpatine's long, in-drawn breath, but nothing else for a long moment.  "I would never threaten you," Palpatine finally said, softly.  "I love you.  I am merely trying to look out for your welfare, Obion.  The Empire, I'm afraid, takes a poor second to you in my mind."

"Perhaps that's where we went wrong, then," Obion replied.  His voice was still low, though it was less hard than before.  "Because I cannot and will not put anything before the Empire.  Not you, not my Exalted Mother... no one and nothing."

"But you can put that damn Jedi--"

"You exceed your place, First Minister."  Obion's voice was plasteel, and Qui-Gon took a deep breath before beginning to saunter to the door.  "Master Jinn and I..."

"I'm sorry, am I intruding?"  Qui-Gon pushed the door open all the way as he entered.  "I apologize for being late, Highness."

"You're neither intruding nor late, Master Jinn.  Minister Palpatine and I were done with our discussion."

Palpatine opened his mouth as though to say something, but whatever he saw in Obion's eyes dissuaded him.  Instead, he nodded curtly to Obion and totally ignored Qui-Gon as he stalked out of the room.  Qui-Gon closed the door firmly after him.

"How long were you listening?" Obion said, giving him an inscrutable look.

"Long enough.  I'm sorry, the door was open."

"I realize that."  Without another word, Obion began some gentle stretches, warming up for their workout.

Obion went smoothly into the first form after warming up, and didn't speak again until he was three-quarters done with it.  He was moving well, if a little clipped in his pose changes, and Qui-Gon could almost feel him releasing anger as he dropped into the light meditative trance the form required.

"Have you ever been in love, Qui-Gon?" Obion suddenly asked, almost startling Qui-Gon.

"Yes."  Qui-Gon had a feeling he knew where this was going, but resolved not to avoid it.  He owed it to Obion, owed it to himself, to be honest and forthright. "Once."

"Only once?"  Obion frowned at his reflection in the mirror.

"Love isn't an acceptable emotion to the Jedi, Obion."   He tried, he really did, to keep the disgust from his voice, but it came through anyway.  "We are told we cannot form attachments."

"That's right, you've said something similar before."  Gracefully, Obion relaxed from the last kata in the form.  "I don't understand."

"I don't either."  Obion turned around and looked him full in the face.  "There are many things about the Jedi Order that I do not understand, that I do not approve of, Obion.  Because of my questioning of them, I'm considered something of a rebel, a malcontent."  He sighed.  "I believe in the Force, I put my faith and my unquestioning trust in it to see me through, see me through everything.  When I was... in love, the Force said nothing to me that I could interpret as warning, or as condemnation.  But then, to me now, love is long dead, so perhaps that's the Force's way of rebuking me for having the temerity to love in the first place."

Qui-Gon kept his eyes on the floor, but he wasn't seeing the polished wood beneath his feet, he was seeing the faces that haunted him in the dark of the night.  The room was silent for a long time.

"Don't masters love their... what do you call them?  Padawans?"

"We're not supposed to."  Now, Xanatos' beautiful face rose up in his mind's eye.  "We're supposed to teach them and train them to be proper little zombies who will follow the letter of the Code and the will of the Council no matter what, and you should not have given me this opening, Obion, for I don't know when to stop."  He sighed and dragged his gaze from the floor to Obion's face.  It presented a much better view.  "I suppose, perhaps, I could say I've been in love twice, though my love for Xanatos is not the same.  Was not the same."

"What was different about it?"

"I love -- loved -- Xani like a son, like he was my son.  It was my disgrace and my downfall.  I have paid a heavy price for that love, as well."

There was a little line between Obion's eyebrows as he studied Qui-Gon.  He stood preternaturally still.  "I don't agree with that thinking," he finally said.  "I remember what Cli or Ali said, negative emotions should be released, because they just eat at you from inside.  That's true, and I can see the value in it.  But love... no.  I do not agree with that."

"Then there are two of us," Qui-Gon said with a wry smile.  "Except, of course, you're not a Jedi, you're a Sith.  So, in the eyes of the Council, you don't count."

"Then I don't care for your Council or its rules.  In my eyes, you count for far more than just a Jedi."  Qui-Gon blinked at Obion's matter-of-fact tone.  "Actually, in my eyes, you count for far more than any Sith."

Leaving Qui-Gon to gape at him in astonishment, Obion turned and began the first kata in the second form.  Gathering his scattered wits about him, Qui-Gon tried to forget that extraordinary statement and go back into teaching mode.

Dinner was a stuffy state affair with Amidala in a prominent position.  To Qui-Gon's surprise, Finis Valorum was also there, and he greeted the man with puzzled pleasure.

"The Empress has given me asylum, Qui-Gon," Valorum told him soberly.  "Civil war has broken out on Coruscant."

"What?"  Qui-Gon blinked in shock.  "What's happened?"

His questions had to wait, as the Empress and Obion were entering.  As it turned out, there was a meeting immediately after the dinner, in the large, silent meeting room, to discuss Finis Valorum's sudden reappearance.  

All the ministers were in attendance, including Palpatine, who glowered at the table but would not meet anyone's eyes.  Amidala and Finis Valorum were also seated.  The Empress opened the meeting.

"Chancellor Valorum has returned to us with grave tidings," she said.  "The Dhro's forces are less than a month from Coruscant, but there is already great turmoil on that planet."

She looked at Valorum, who took a deep breath.  Qui-Gon suddenly noticed how gaunt his friend looked.  "Exalted Majesty; your Highnesses; esteemed ministers.  Coruscant is in the midst of a civil war sparked by the rift over how to greet the Dhro."  Several ministers paled at his words.  "Three of the more powerful members of the Consortium have decided to relent to the Dhro's demands and wish for Coruscant to become part of the Dhro's empire."  Valorum rubbed his eyes.  "They see the demands less as demands and more as 'politely worded requests' -- those are the words of Nute Gunray, the Viceroy of the Trade Federation."

"What, precisely, were those requests, Chancellor Valorum?"  The Empress was frowning at Valorum.  "You've mentioned before the Dhro offered totalitarianism."

"Yes, Exalted Majesty."  Valorum took a sip from his water glass. His eyes were focused on the table before him.  "The 'mouth of the Dhro' asked that Coruscant join the Dhro's empire, to become just another world in thrall.  I counseled against it: I see it as losing Coruscant's autonomy.  There was a vote held, and four of the seven members of the Consortium agreed with me.  At that point, the other three immediately withdrew their membership to the Consortium and attacked the chamber."

"They attacked?"  Mazen Toor looked positively floored.  "They used actual violence against the other members of the Consortium?"

"I was one of the lucky ones, Mazen."  Valorum's expression was bleak.  "I escaped.  Many did not.  The building is not much more than slag, now.  The Techno Union is very thorough: what they set out to do, they do very well."

"Inconceivable."  Qui-Gon was obscurely glad to see even Palpatine looked shocked by Valorum's words.

"What does this mean for Corellia?"  Minister Blelling, once more reminding everyone at the table where his loyalties lay.

"Coruscant is embroiled in civil war, Minister," Valorum said.  "The Dhro will have his hands full pacifying it.  Actually, the disintegration of the Consortium may, in the end, help you.  It will certainly delay the inevitable."

"But at what cost?" the Empress murmured.

"I would not wish for Coruscant to pay it, Exalted Majesty, but my wishes have not been heeded."

"Chancellor Valorum, you are welcome to stay on Corellia as long as you like, as long as you need," she replied to his sad comment.  "We grant you amnesty within the Empire, and an honorary citizenship."  Valorum bowed from his seat, but his sad, weary face did not change.  "It is time, we believe, to begin counting our allies and our strengths.  Once the Dhro is finished with Coruscant, Corellia will be next."

"What are you intending, Majesty?"  Toor was frowning at her.

"We must begin to take stock of our reserves, of what we have to battle the Dhro.  The fight for our galaxy will come here, sooner or later, and here, it must end."  She sighed, then turned to look at one of the people at the table, Minister Skora.  "At this time, we ask for General Skora to take her rightful place once more."

The woman the Empress addressed was one of the few ministers or courtiers Qui-Gon hadn't personally met.  Though he knew who she was, he didn't know her function or how long she had served under the Empress.  She was ruddy and heavy-set, her iron-gray hair looked to be cut with more convenience than style in mind, and her hooded gaze seemed assessing to Qui-Gon.  She spoke rarely, if at all, and she made the table wait for a long moment before replying to the Empress.  "You're asking a lot of me, Adi.  I thought I was retired."

Qui-Gon raised an eyebrow -- a very highly placed minister if she was permitted that type of familiarity.  "You knew this was coming, we've discussed it."  There was dead silence in the room after the Empress spoke, Qui-Gon wondered if anyone else was even breathing.  "Will you work with Maul on this?  Will you again take the mantle of commander of our armed forces?"

It was an obvious plea, though couched as formally as possible.  After a few more moments, the woman nodded.  "Aye.  Though you haven't given me much of a choice."

"None of us have been given much of a choice, Dem."  The two women exchanged sad looks before the Empress spoke again.  "Maul will be working with General Skora, and they will be answerable to none other than the throne and scepter.  Seneschal, I believe you will be needed to work out a schedule of--"

"Your pardon, Majesty, but I don't think the Seneschal's help will be needed in this matter."  Maul's voice was bland and he looked straight at the Empress.

The look she gave him was like an ice storm on Hoth, and Qui-Gon blinked in amazement.  "This will be discussed in private, Maul."  He inclined his head, acquiescing to her demand.  "General Skora, please compose a complete breakdown of our armed forces, and be prepared with a resume at tomorrow's staff meeting."  She looked around the table, but Qui-Gon noticed she most carefully did not look at Maul.  "If there are no further issues, this meeting is closed, and the subjects we have discussed are tabled until tomorrow."

Everyone save the Empress and Maul stood, and there was a polite stampede to the door.  Qui-Gon found himself exiting last with Obion, and glanced back into the room as the heir closed the door.  "What was all that about?"

"It's a long story, but Maul and Jay don't get along."  Obion smiled crookedly.  "I wouldn't want to be in there at the moment."

"That doesn't sound like Maul," Qui-Gon said with a frown.  Now that he thought of it, Maul had never acknowledged Matrin, never spoken to him, didn't seem to even see the man.  And whenever he'd seen Matrin address Maul, it was with a sardonic tone and posture.

"I don't understand it, but it's been that way pretty much since Maul arrived.  I was very young and don't really remember; apparently they took an instant hate to one another."  Obion glanced at the door again, then back at Qui-Gon.  "If you have time this evening, I would... like... I would like to..."  Qui-Gon blinked in surprise.  It was very unlike Obion to be without words, and he fought down the urge to think it charming.  With a wry smile, Obion finally said, "I'd like to talk.  I'd like to hear more about the Temple and why you think the way you do about it."

"I'd be pleased, Obion.  Any time."

"I have to pick up something in my rooms, but my schedule is free this evening..."

"Mine as well."  If he didn't know better...

"I'll see you soon, then."  

Qui-Gon watched Obion saunter away, conflicting emotions chasing themselves across his mind.  Could Obion be coming on to him?

He turned in the opposite direction, to see Terrell standing in the hall, waiting for him.  The young man's gaze was not for Qui-Gon, however, but was concentrated with a frown down the hall, in the same direction as Obion had walked.  "Terrell?"

"I thought I saw..."  He shook his head sharply then turned.  

With one last glance down the hall, Qui-Gon turned and followed Terrell.  "What did you think you saw?"

"It looked..."  Terrell hesitated, then half-turned.  "I thought I saw Minister Palpatine.  It couldn't have been though."

"Why not?"

"Because I saw him go down the hall long before you and his Highness left the room."  Terrell shrugged.  "I must be seeing things.  Will you need me any longer this evening, Master Jinn?"

"No, that's fine, thank you."  They were at the door to Qui-Gon's suite.  "A good evening to you, Terrell."  Thoughtfully, Qui-Gon closed the door and went to the sideboard to brew himself some tea.

Qui-Gon was standing on his balcony, drinking tea when he heard the tap on the door.  It was Obion, and he bore an opened bottle of pale wine and two glasses.  Qui-Gon had to smile and raise one eyebrow when he saw the drink.

"I don't intend to drink more than a couple of glasses, this time," Obion said, pouring two glasses and handing one to Qui-Gon.  "I think the hangover cured me of the wish to over-imbibe."

"If that were always the case, we wouldn't have any drunkards."  

Obion chuckled and lifted his glass.  "There is that.  Shall we drink to something?  To friendship?"

"I think that's appropriate."  Qui-Gon took a sip and nodded in approval.  The wine was dry and cold and went down very easily.  "Is Maul still in one piece?"

"As far as I know."  They sat on opposite ends of the sofa and Obion put the bottle on the low table before them.  "He truly loves my mother, you know.  Actually, I think it's closer to idolizes."

"I think I picked that up," Qui-Gon replied, nodding.

"And I'm certain she loves him... well, as much as she's able.  He was the one, the one who found my father's killer."  Obion looked at his wineglass.  His face was sad.  "He brought her -- Mother -- out of her despair.  I think everyone was shocked when she became pregnant.  It's a good thing she's Empress, it would have been such a scandal otherwise.  Especially with him being not completely human."

Qui-Gon took another sip.  "Maul is one of the most human people I've ever met."

"I agree."  Obion smiled at Qui-Gon.  "Ancestors know he's as fallible as a human, though I have to admit he's more often right than wrong.  He's been much of a surrogate father to me."  He paused and sighed.  "I'm sure there are times when he doesn't want to be, either, but he's always been there for me, for all of us.  Even when we -- I -- mistreat him."

"Every parent is mistreated by his child at one time or another, Obion.  It's an occupational hazard."

Obion chuckled and his face looked the better for it.  "Are you a parent, Qui-Gon?  Or does your Order forbid that as well?"

"A parent only in that I've trained an apprentice -- two of them, actually."  It was Qui-Gon's turn to look away.  "A child would arise from a commitment, and commitments are forbidden to the Jedi.  It is not our way."

"I don't know how you stand it."  Obion sounded positively indignant and Qui-Gon blinked at him.  "No commitments, no love, no sex either, probably, or is that at least allowed, as long as it's free of commitment?"

Definitely seeing the humor in the situation, Qui-Gon had to smile.  "Well, there's always masturbation."

Obion laughed.  "I suppose there isn't much they can say about not having a commitment to your hand."  

Chuckling, desperate to change the subject to something less dangerous, Qui-Gon said, "Tell me more about Maul.  He's very..."

"Different?"  Obion sipped his wine as Qui-Gon nodded.  "Like I said, I was very young when my father was killed.  Ali was just a baby.  I remember things... but only vaguely, as if they were in a dream.  I was five."  He frowned into his glass and Qui-Gon noticed the little line between his brows again.  My mother was utterly devastated -- I remember that clearly.  You don't forget seeing your mother cry, especially at that age.  She loved him dearly."  He took a breath as though to continue, but hesitated for a moment before speaking again.  "When Maul arrived, I'm told he was a mess.  He'd had to fight to win his freedom from the Dhro, and he apparently looked it.  He doesn't have any memories of it, however, which is inconvenient."

Obion drained his glass but didn't move to refill it.  "He landed in a one-person escape pod, more dead than alive, during the mourning period.  No one had found my father's killer, and the isolationist faction wanted to make Maul a scapegoat.  Mother wouldn't let them.  It's a grand old tradition in the Empire to take in strays -- witness all the refugees arriving and our largess at accepting them."

"That's a bit different, I think," Qui-Gon said with a smile.  The refugee trickle was threatening to become a flood, he knew, and Corellia was far more welcoming than Selonia.

Obion waved his hand.  "Maybe, maybe not.  Anyway, instead of having him executed or deported, she took him in, helped him, healed him, and he repaid her by finding father's killer and falling in love with her."  Still frowning, Obion's gaze was obviously as far away as his thoughts.  "We never found out why that woman -- the assassin -- killed father, actually.  She killed herself somehow after the first interrogation."

"That's... odd," Qui-Gon said, also frowning.  

"I know.  I've asked, but no one really wants to talk about it, not even Maul."  Obion reached for the bottle and poured himself a half glass of wine.  Qui-Gon emptied his own glass and held it out for more when Obion offered it.  "Mother made Maul into the chief of security, of everything, in a way.  He's the main reason why Demmer Skora is retired, actually.  She knew he was worthy of her trust and could handle the armies.  And she doesn't give her trust easily, either.  Well, none of us do, really."

"That's not been my experience," Qui-Gon said, aware his voice was wry.  He hadn't wanted to give his trust easily either, and look where that got him.

"You slipped in under our radar, somehow," Obion said, quite seriously.  "When Mother told us about your arrival, we were just aghast.  A Jedi?  Here?  Ridiculous.  Then we met you and..."  Obion half turned, propping one leg on the sofa so he could see Qui-Gon better.  "I'm sorry, by the way.  For the way I treated you early on."

"I don't think there was anything you said I did not expect, Obion."  Qui-Gon smiled again.  "Besides, I don't think you were quite yourself."

"I suppose not."  Obion sighed.  "I'm still confused over that too.  I thought I should feel anger at Roberd for what he did, but all I really feel is... well... numb.  Sad."

Thoughts chased themselves around Qui-Gon's head and he couldn't decide what to say -- everything he thought to say sounded dangerous, leading.  He didn't want to hurt Obion, but he didn't want to lead him on, either.  Even if he did want to...  "You were betrayed by someone you trusted," he finally said.  "No matter how you look at it, it's a terrible thing to go through."  After a pause, he added softly, "And it never gets easier, either."

"So Mother tells me."  They were both silent for a long moment.  "Sometimes, I don't want the scepter at all.  Sometimes, I wonder what it would be like if I were just the son of a regular family, merchants, perhaps."

"I imagine that's a quite common wish, Obion."

"Oh, I'm sure you're right."  The corner of his mouth turned up in a wry grin.  "Isn't that a standard plot on the viddies?  Poor little rich boy, or uneasy lies the head?"  They smiled at each other.  "I know some day, I'll have to kill Mother and take her place, but there are times I wish..."

"Tell me you're joking," Qui-Gon said, in shock.  They couldn't still...

Obion looked confused.  "What, joking about what, the succession?"

"You said you'd have to kill your mother?"  Qui-Gon was appalled.  Obion must have been joking, or perhaps it was a figure of speech.

"Yes."  Obion looked confused.  "I thought you knew.  That's our way."

"Encouraging a child to kill his parent?  That's barbaric."  And inconceivable to Qui-Gon, who knew right down to his bones how much the children of the Empress loved her.

"It's tradition.  It's how the Sith Empire has operated for millennia."  That little line was back between Obion's eyes, and Qui-Gon could sense his confusion.

"Now you're sounding like the Jedi, espousing tradition and ritual above all.  I thought you abhorred it."  

"Well, yes, when it's meant to control something obviously wrong, but this..."

"This isn't obviously wrong?  You love your mother.  It's ridiculous to ask you to do such a thing."  Qui-Gon felt his anger rising and struggled to contain it.  He couldn't believe the Sith continued with such an outdated, excruciatingly horrid tradition.

"It's not ridiculous, it's what we do.  I would think someone like you would especially understand that."  Obion's voice had gained volume and so had Qui-Gon's.  

"Like me?  What are you talking about?  All I see is someone willing to murder--"

"It's not murder!"

"Then what would you call it?"  Abruptly aware he was on the verge of bellowing, Qui-Gon looked away from Obion and took a deep breath, fighting to regain his composure.  "I'm sorry... You're quite right, I know better than to question what I don't understand."  Qui-Gon shook his head, it still sounded barbaric to him.  "I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry."  They spoke in unison and both snorted in laughter and anger, a heady combination.  "I didn't come here tonight to argue with you, Qui-Gon."

"Then why did you come?" Qui-Gon spoke before he could censor himself, and he wished immediately he could take the words back.

Obion wouldn't look at him, but finished his wine and turned to put both his feet on the floor so he wasn't facing Qui-Gon.  He leaned his arms on his thighs and rolled his glass between his palms.  "I came here..."  He stopped and this time, his chuckles were obviously self-deprecating.  "I came here tonight to seduce you, I guess.  And I'm doing a piss-poor job of it, aren't I.  I'm sorry."

Qui-Gon became suddenly aware his mouth was hanging open and he closed it, blinking his eyes in a combination of confusion, shock and wonder.  "You came here..."

"I apologize, Master Jinn, for my impulsive and undeniably rude behavior.  I'll not bother you again."  Obion stood and grabbed the bottle.

Jumping to his feet, Qui-Gon managed to get to Obion before he reached the door, putting his hand out, touching Obion's arm.  "You startled me, that's all, Obion.  I..."

"If you say you're flattered, it's safe to say I most probably will hit you."  Obion's face was twisted and his voice was thick.

"I am."  Qui-Gon tried to make the words as gentle and accepting as he could.  "Just as I was then.  I'm very flattered, flattered and honored.  I'm also... well, I'm also surprised -- flabbergasted might be a better word.  I wasn't expecting..."

"And I put you in an untenable position."  Obion swallowed hard, and looked down at the carpet beneath his feet.  "It was ridiculous of me to presume..."  With obvious effort, he lifted his head and looked at Qui-Gon.  What he saw in Qui-Gon's eyes must have reassured him, for he relaxed slightly.  "I remember," he said softly.  "I remember everything you said that night.  I wanted... I wanted to thank you, to... to...  I don't know."  He looked back down at his toes.

"I'm not sure what to say, Obion," Qui-Gon said, opting for honesty.  Making a personal vow never to lie to Obion was one thing, but he was also afraid to tell the truth.  "I'd..."  He swallowed.  "I'd be lying if I said I didn't find you attractive."  Their voices had dropped to not much more than a murmur.

"I know that, I mean, I've been told that before..."  Obion licked his lips nervously and continued studying the toes of his shoes.  "But that's... it's superficial.  I don't want someone on that basis, I want someone who..."

"Who wants you, who... loves you for more than looks or station."

"Yes."

"I understand, Obion.  I do."  When had the tension in the room become so thick?  "We all want that, I think.  Someone to love us, even when we're... even when we're bad, when we're being stubborn, or contrary."  He hadn't taken his hand from Obion's arm, and the warmth of it threatened to burn him.

"But I'm young, right?  I still have years to go to find the 'right person.'  I've heard that enough."

"I imagine you have."  Qui-Gon sighed.  "You are young, but youth is no reason to not find love.  It's just that age, age and experience... well, sometimes it helps soften the blow when the one you love leaves you."

Obion's head jerked up and he stared at Qui-Gon, who realized too late his words must have been bitterly delivered.  "They don't always leave, do they, Qui-Gon?  Maul has stayed for Mother..."

"Forgive the meanderings of an old man," Qui-Gon said, realizing it was his turn to examine the plush carpeting beneath their feet.  "I didn't mean that the way it came out."

"Not old, Qui-Gon."  

"Not young, either."  Qui-Gon turned up his mouth in a wry smile.  "Actually, you have had far more experience with love than I have, Obion.  You have a family that loves you, unequivocally.  The Jedi are my family, but we are not big on love, I'm afraid."

"Yet you love," Obion whispered, frowning up at Qui-Gon.  "I've felt it.  We've all felt it; I think that's part of the reason why we accepted you so readily."

Qui-Gon didn't know how to respond to that, not at all.  He'd spent his life being a diplomat, an arbiter, not getting involved in the disputes he mediated but seeing them objectively, from an outsider's perspective.  Now, though, he had somehow allowed the entire family to take up residence under his skin, and they were demanding he pull down the barriers he'd erected around himself, demanding he feel once again.  It could mean the tiny thing he called his heart could shatter, and if it did, he didn't know whether he could stand the pain of it, yet again.

So he stood mute, an orator without words in the face of something too personal to let pass.  Obion stood still as well, staring in his face as if trying to read his soul.  He could not look directly into Obion's eyes, but when he would have looked away, Obion reached up and put his hand on Qui-Gon's face, gently turning it back.  "You know," he murmured in something like wonder, something like compassion.  "You know."

Nodding, Qui-Gon had no idea what he had agreed to, but knew it was so.  He knew.  Whatever it was, it was something both he and Obion shared, and yes, he knew it, knew it well.  He stood paralyzed before the young man who could be his salvation or his condemnation, and so couldn't turn away when Obion leaned up and kissed him, gently and sweetly.  He couldn't turn away, but neither could he respond; Obion didn't seem to mind, at any rate.

"Thank you," Obion said, gravely studying his face.  

Qui-Gon nodded again, still mute, as Obion turned and walked out of his suite.  He hadn't said goodbye, though, and that gave Qui-Gon hope.  A fool's hope, he told himself sternly, but a small part of him, the part that chafed against the barriers he had erected, rejoiced.  

The rest of him, however, merely wanted to hide under the bed.  And that was no way for a damned Jedi to behave, now, was it.

No, not at all.

When Bellen had reminded him a few days earlier that Mummer's Fete was rapidly approaching, Qui-Gon had found himself amazed.  If it was already time for the Mummer's Fete celebrations, it meant he'd been on Corellia for over five months.  It hadn't seemed that long to him.

The civil war on Coruscant was still raging and keeping the Dhro busy.  That meant they had not yet been approached by his agent, and were using the time as the blessing it was.  Maul was busy with the armed forces and he and the Empress had arguments over the question of a draft for the Sith army.

The Empress had given thought to canceling the holiday period, but Qui-Gon understood her children had dissuaded her.  They celebrated Mummer's Fete far more boisterously on Corellia than on Selonia, and all the children looked forward to it.  Even Obion counseled against canceling it, saying the war refugees that had begun arriving -- more every day, from Alderaan, Coruscant and places too small to have a name -- would find it comforting to be able to celebrate something.  Anything.

On Selonia, in the Temple, Mummer's Fete was the one time when the young people of the Jedi could cut loose; not that they did, exactly.  Costumes, certainly; as long as they were made by hand and contained Jedi clothing somehow.  Dominos and other masks were easier, but even in their revels, the children of the Jedi were restrained and polite, never dreaming of demanding anything from anyone.

On Corellia, in the sprawling palace and everywhere in the capital city and the rest of the world, children wore elaborate costumes and demanded presents from everyone they met.  Most complied with a small gift consisting of sweets or small coins; the little bundles were made up weeks in advance or were available for purchase just about everywhere on the planet.  Woe betide the poor adult who failed to surrender something when the demanding little beasts showed up.

There were also balls, as was tradition, and in the palace they were grand things, especially the final masquerade where even the commoners from the capital city were invited.  The gargantuan ballroom could easily support a thousand people or more, and was the scene for the public ball.  The smaller,  private celebrations for just the palace denizens -- royalty, courtier and servant alike -- were held in a smaller though still enormous ballroom in the private area of the palace.  Mummer's Fete was the time when rank meant nothing, and commoner mingled with royalty.

The only thing cancelled altogether were the traditional fireworks, which would have meant lowering the particle shield.  The Empress did this even in the face of Anikin's pout, for, as Qui-Gon realized, she must have remembered the real reason for Mummer's Fete: it commemorated the last time Dark Force users were met and bested in war.  The Temple had never indulged in fireworks, as it seemed too much like warfare to them.  The Jedi remembered the real reason for Mummer's Fete as well.

Maul showed no physical injuries the morning after Qui-Gon's curious evening with Obion.  Qui-Gon had become a fixture at the morning breakfasts, to his surprise and the children's delight.  Anikin always talked about his dreams with Qui-Gon on those mornings, and Cliadle often wanted to discuss books she'd read or heard about.  That morning, Obion was already in the room, sitting next to his mother.  Matrin was absent though the food was there, and Maul opened the door for Qui-Gon.

"You're alive?" Qui-Gon murmured, raising one eyebrow.  

"I breathe," Maul replied, his voice dry.

"Good morning, Qui-Gon," the Empress said, smiling in greeting.  "Your tea is ready."

"Thank you."  He took his customary chair across from the Empress and most carefully did not look at Obion until after he was seated.  He couldn't avoid it forever, however, and once he was fortified with cup and saucer, he forced his eyes up.

Obion's face was open and looked almost sad, for some reason.  It brought back the memory of his own sadness he'd felt once Obion had left, and the desire that, oddly enough, had grown since Obion's confession.  This was not what he had planned, not at all.

"Qui-Gon." The Empress was looking between the two of them with a half smile on her face.  "I'd like you to extend the invitation to the Temple to celebrate Mummer's Fete here.  I realize our excessively emotional displays do not meet with Jedi approval, but I thought it would be lovely for your children."

Blinking, Qui-Gon forced his brain into gear.  "I would be glad to make the offer, Adi." He still had some problems calling her by name, though it was getting easier.  "I'm not sure they would accept, though, with the Dhro being so close."

"That's another thing I've meant to bring up."  The Empress frowned.  "You had mentioned your Council was thinking about evacuating the children to a safer location.  There is a mountain fastness that has been..."

"Adi."  The Empress blinked and looked up at Maul's interruption.  Matrin was just entering the room with a carafe of juice, followed by Anikin.  "Not here."

"Maul..."

"Please.  Indulge me?"

She made a disgusted noise.  "I indulge you far too much.  Very well.  Please remind me of this conversation later, Qui-Gon."

Unsure what had just happened, Qui-Gon frowned and nodded.  "I'll make sure to do so."

Anikin was making his usual pre-breakfast rounds, hugging everyone in the room.  Qui-Gon noticed Maul was not left out, and indeed, received not only a hug but one of those strange brown fruits.  For Qui-Gon, Anikin had another dream, but this one was far more pleasant.  

"I had a dream about Padme, Queen Amidala's handmaiden, you know?"  Anikin said.  Qui-Gon glanced at the Empress over his head and she shook her head, a tiny motion.  So Anikin didn't know who she really was.  That made sense, Qui-Gon supposed.  He was still quite young for such secrets.  What bothered him was that it was a secret still, inside the safety of the palace.  He would wager that was Maul's paranoia.  "For a girl, she's pretty wizard.  I think she looks like an angel, don't you think she does, Master Qui-Gon?  I dreamed I'm going to marry her some day."

The Empress' eyes were wide with shock as those words sunk in.  Anikin was already off on another tangent, about speeders and the mechanics of hyperspace or something else altogether, but the panicked look did not leave the Empress' eyes.

Once Anikin was seated at the table and eating, as though he hadn't just eaten the night before, Qui-Gon caught the Empress' eye.  "The future is always in motion," he murmured.  Obion looked up with a frown.  "Many of our gifted ones in the Temple say visions of the future are merely what might bes instead of what will bes.  While we should always pay heed to what the Force gives us, we must also remember to keep our minds firmly in the here-and-now."

"I take heart at your words," the Empress replied.  Her voice was very low but Qui-Gon could hear it shake.

Obion waited until his siblings had eaten to sit down with a plate of food, and Qui-Gon joined him at the table after a moment's hesitation.  He felt increasingly uncomfortable in Obion's presence, didn't really know how to behave around the young man who had been causing him so much consternation.  He knew how he wanted to behave, but he would not allow himself such freedom.

Cliadle and Aliamon were chatting with their mother about the meditation lessons and the upcoming ball.  Cliadle had offered her best ball gown to Queen Amidala, but the Empress saw right though that.  "I have already ordered another one for you, love.  No, you're not getting out of it."

She visibly deflated at her mother's words, but apparently knew better than to protest.  Aliamon had a hard time suppressing her smile: she must have known about it and knew her sister wouldn't get away with it.

"I'll dance with you, Cli," Anikin selflessly announced.  "When I'm not dancing with Padme."

"Ani's got a girlfriend, Ani's got a girlfriend," Maisen began to chant, and Anikin gave her a sour look.  "Mam," she said, after sticking her tongue out at her brother, "Can I g--"

"May I."

"May I go to the balls too?  Please?"

"Do you feel you're mature enough, and do you promise to remain under control and not make a fuss when it is time for you to leave?"  

"Yes, Mam, I promise I'll be good."

From the look on everyone's face, that statement was clearly treated with disbelief.  A soft chuckle next to him made Qui-Gon turn back to his table companion, who had also been watching the family.  "This year she just might do it," Obion said.

"Ah."  Qui-Gon nodded and smiled.  "Not her first attempt, then."

"No."  Obion sipped his juice and turned his attention away from his immediate family, who were beginning to go over their schedules and schoolwork for the day.  "She remained in her room for a week after last year's disaster.  I'm surprised she's getting another chance so soon, actually."

Forcing himself to take the tauntaun by the horns, Qui-Gon swallowed and spoke softly, not looking directly at Obion.  "About last night."  A very quick glance at Obion showed him turning to look at Qui-Gon.  "I think I should apologize for my behavior..."

"You have nothing to apologize for."  Obion's voice was equally soft and not tentative at all.  "It was not my intention to put you in such an untenable situation, and I apologize."

"If I have nothing to apologize for, then neither do you."  Qui-Gon picked up his cup to drink but it was empty.  "And I most certainly did not mean to start an argument with you.  I just..."

Obion regarded him soberly for a long time, or so Qui-Gon inferred.  He was still incapable of meeting those beautiful eyes, and was silently chastising himself for it.  "Ask Mother about her father some day," Obion finally said.  "And about her grandfather.  I think you'll be surprised."

Qui-Gon was already surprised; he frowned and looked straight at Obion, but he had already turned his attention back to his family.  

The Empress asked Qui-Gon to come with her to the garden; Maul and Obion disappeared shortly before the end of the family breakfast.  Captain Sarin escorted them to the door, then took up guard duty just outside it.

"Maul and Obion will be joining us shortly," she explained as they walked down the flagstone path to the center of the garden.  "Maul has been teaching Obion about the security of the palace and the state of the guards and armed forces.  It's something Obion must learn, even as I learned it."  She smiled as she sat.  "He's proven to be a far quicker study in such things than I was at his age."

"You asked me to remind you about our earlier conversation, Adi," Qui-Gon said as they sat on the bench.  The birds looked to have been there earlier than normal, and only a few were left.

"Yes, I did."  She shook her head with a rueful smile.  "I take Maul to task for being paranoid, he takes me to task for being too forgiving, too open.  It's a battle neither of us will ever win."

"Obion told me Maul and your Seneschal don't get along," Qui-Gon said.  He cocked his head to better see her.  "Why would that be?"

"I don't really know, and I doubt even Maul knows.  Certainly Jay doesn't, though the enmity is mutual."  The Empress sighed.  "Maul has always been an enigma to us, maybe to himself as well.  He arrived during a very tumultuous time.  He was a bloody mess, was obviously not human, only remembered his name and looked absolutely frightening.  But there was something..."  Her voice trailed off and her face looked terribly sad for a moment.  It aged her.  "And then, of course, he proved his usefulness to the Empire... and to me... almost immediately, by finding... finding a certain person."  She paused again, and after a moment, continued in a whisper.  "I can never love again, not the way I loved Orrem.  He was my light... he gave up his life for me.  So, no, I do not expect to ever find that again, though I am lucky to have those who love me still, despite everything."

There wasn't much Qui-Gon could say to that, so he didn't try.  Instead he let her be, in silence, remembering, until she took a deep breath and finally spoke again.

"What I was going to tell you earlier deals with the Temple's children.  You had mentioned your Council is thinking of sending them away from Selonia, before the Dhro approaches."

"Yes," Qui-Gon said, nodding.  "I would think they would try to send them to Dantooine, though I think that's less than a wise course."

"They would be as exposed there as they would be on Selonia," the Empress agreed.  "As for alternatives, let's not even speak about Yavin."

"No, let's not," Qui-Gon agreed, raising one eyebrow.  

"There is a place, a mountain fastness about thirty leagues from the city.  It was built by the Sunrider clan back during the evil days."  Qui-Gon frowned at her words, and she nodded, divining his questions.  "The clan still exists.  The Kenobi clan have married into it several times; we can claim several strands of blood ties."

Qui-Gon blinked.  "That's a... That's a rather interesting fact.  I thought the clan had died out millennia ago."

"Nearly."  She gave Qui-Gon a sad look.  "I don't think we would have been able to celebrate Mummer's Fete with such enthusiasm had the bloodline died out.  The Sith owe a lot to that clan."

"As do the Jedi," Qui-Gon murmured.

"As does the galaxy."  The Empress' voice was grave, but Qui-Gon could feel her trepidation.  "The idea that we may have another Exar Kun or Freedon Nadd on our hands does little for my nerves, I'm afraid."

"Let's hope it won't come to that," Qui-Gon replied.  In his heart, though, he feared it would.

"Do you think the Dhro...?"

"I don't know."  Qui-Gon took a deep breath and looked blindly at the garden.  "Perhaps.  Perhaps that's why the Dhro is killing Jedi.  But I would think if the Dhro is the next Nadd, he would have started on this side of the galaxy, not the other."  He shook his head in confusion.  "I don't know."

The Empress nodded and swallowed.  "If the Dhro comes to Corellia, which I'm sure he will, the mountain will be a place of retreat until the troubles are over.  Not even Nadd could break into it; Nomi Sunrider saw to that."

"And it's large enough to hold our initiates and padawans?"

"It can comfortably hold close to a thousand people -- more, even, but you give up many comforts with a larger amount of people."  As the Empress continued, Qui-Gon heard footsteps and voices behind them, signaling the arrival of Maul and Obion.  They came into view as the Empress was saying, "...and I will be sending my children there soon, I'm sure."

"Send us where?"  Obion settled gracefully at his mother's feet and looked up at her, tipping his head back and letting the sun play on his face.  He was wearing a plain tunic in a lovely shade of blue-green which complemented his eyes, and Qui-Gon tore his gaze away before he could embarrass himself.

"To Mount Sunrider," the Empress replied.  She let her fingers card through Obion's hair.

"I think it's a little early to start doing that, Mother," Obion said with a frown.  "And I, for one, will not go.  It will be hard to send Ali or Cli away as well, and Ani..."

"You will go where I tell you, Eldest Son," the Empress said, her voice very firm.

Obion's jaw set but before he could speak, Maul laughed.  "Adi, give up the idea right now.  Obi will have to stay here, no matter what."

"Maul..."

"Mother, he's right.  I'm staying.  I'm the heir, and the Empire is as much my responsibility as it is yours."

She spluttered and glared at both of them, but they wore almost identical expressions of set stubbornness.  Finally she turned to Qui-Gon.  "See how I am abused, Master Jinn?  And by my own family."

"I don't see abuse, here, Adi.  I only see love."  He smiled at Maul, then at Obion, but his smile faltered at what he saw in Obion's eyes.  It was smoky and sultry and Qui-Gon knew he wouldn't stand a chance against it.

Between the increasing number of war refugees arriving, the approaching holiday and the tension over the Dhro, the palace had become a hotbed of activity.  Servants hung gaily colored paper flowers and streamers everywhere, ladies carried bolts of material and finished gowns from one end of the palace to the other, and the younger children became ever more fractious.  The excitement in the air was overlaid with a feeling of encroaching hysteria, which kept it from being, in any way, normal.

Bellen took it upon herself to get Qui-Gon a sack of treats for the children celebrating the holiday.  She also talked him into wearing different clothing for the various parties, and to his surprise, had a handsome suit in layered shades of dark blue silk ready for him.  Qui-Gon suspected the Empress was involved somehow, but Bellen wasn't talking.

To an extent, Qui-Gon wished he could avoid his exercise sessions with Obion, especially since their almost-disastrous evening together.  But he could not: Obion showed up on time and ready to learn, and was devouring the lessons Qui-Gon taught with an eager rapaciousness that was stunning.  He had worked his way through most of the unarmed forms and was showing a keen interest in the armed ones, which left Qui-Gon with a quandary: should he teach Obion the forms which needed a lightsaber or should he not?  

Besides that problem, he also had to deal with the Jedi.  His Order had, to his surprise, accepted the Empress' offer.  Along with a majority of the Council, they had brought all the younger padawans and initiates to Corellia for the festivities of Mummer's Fete.  They arrived en masse: eight Council members, fourteen padawans, seventy-four initiates, several tutors and almost immediately, they seemed lost within the boisterous celebration.  The Empress had set aside a guest house for the children and their tutors, a place physically separated from the palace and apart from the city, for privacy; but still within the palace grounds, for safety.  It acted as a barracks for the children and their tutors while keeping them safely under the particle shield.  No mention was made of Mount Sunrider, at least not yet, but it was understood the children would remain on Corellia even after the other Jedi returned to Selonia.

Mace Windu was, unfortunately, included among the Council members.  Qui-Gon was glad to see his friends, but dreaded seeing Windu -- a depressing fact.  They used to be friends.  They used to be... well, lovers was perhaps not the right word.  But it was better than the word Mace had used to describe it once it ended.

The Empress herself, along with her entourage and several ministers -- Palpatine was notable by his absence, and indeed, hadn't shown his scowling face outside mandatory meetings for several days -- met the transport from Selonia.  Windu was doing his Old Stone Face impersonation, and when he looked at Qui-Gon, his eyes were ice cold.

He was gracious enough to the Empress, however, and followed her lead in addressing her directly and in Basic.  If he found it strange she would greet all the Councilors herself, rather than through the intermediary of translators or sycophants, he didn't say.  It irritated Qui-Gon that Windu didn't seem to notice the thaw in the Empress' demeanor towards the Jedi.  Hopefully, she didn't believe all Jedi were like Qui-Gon, because if she did, she was in for a disappointment.

They got the children and their tutors settled, then the Councilors, each of them in their own quarters -- but not in the private wing, something Qui-Gon secretly reveled in.  Windu was the last, and he held Qui-Gon back after everyone else had left.  "We need to talk," he said, and Qui-Gon groaned internally.

Putting it off as best he could, he said, "Let's go to my quarters, I can make us some tea.  I need to check my schedule anyway."

Windu frowned at him but followed.  Terrell was waiting at the door to Windu's suite and bowed but mercifully stayed silent as they walked the corridors of the palace.  "Who is that?" Windu asked, indicating Terrell.

With another internal groan -- he knew this one was going to be difficult -- Qui-Gon replied, "Terrell Benk is my appointed page, Mace.  You'll be meeting my secretary, Bellen, when we get to my rooms."

"Your page?  Your secretary?"

Don't start, please don't start, Qui-Gon thought to himself.  "Yes.  My position as one of her Exalted Majesty's advisors comes with certain privileges.  I assure you, they are needed.  I would have spent my first two months lost if it hadn't been for Terrell, and most of what you've read about the treaty is due to Bellen's excellent help."

Windu didn't say anything, but the strain between them ratcheted up a notch.  This was not going to be a pleasant visit, and Qui-Gon tried to steel himself as best he could.  Mace had always known what buttons to push with him.

Bellen was surprised to see another Jedi with Qui-Gon, but recovered quickly.  She rose from her chair before the teleunit and curtseyed when Qui-Gon introduced her.  Windu barely spared her a glance as he stalked into the room, looking around and purely radiating displeasure.  "Bellen, would you mind?" Qui-Gon asked her, sotto voce, and she took the hint immediately.  

"Of course, Master Jinn.  Your schedule is clear save for his Highness' training.  Her Exalted Majesty has canceled the normal staff meeting today, in deference to our... visitors."  Bellen obviously had taken an immediate dislike of Windu, and Qui-Gon couldn't blame her.  The man looked -- and felt -- like a thunderhead poised to explode.  "I've got water hot for you too, Master Jinn, for your tea."

"Thank you, Bellen."  Qui-Gon ushered her out along with Terrell, but with a raised eyebrow made sure Terrell would wait just outside the door, which he left ajar.  He had a feeling he wouldn't want to be walking with Mace back to his rooms after they had spoken.

Qui-Gon set the tea steeping and waited for the inevitable explosion.  When it finally came, he was surprised to note it saddened rather than angered him, which was, he supposed, an improvement over how he usually reacted to Mace.

"So tell me, Master Jinn, do you have a servant to wash your arse for you as well?"  Windu's voice was hard and cold.

Pouring tea into two mugs, Qui-Gon gave one to Mace and sat down on one of the chairs with the other.  Mace remained standing.  "No, Mace, I have a secretary and a page, as befits my position in the palace.  I turned down a valet."

"Befits your position?"  Qui-Gon noted Mace's voice was almost trembling with rage.

"Anger is a path to the Dark Force, Mace," he murmured over his cup.  "You might try calming down before you have an attack."

It was a good thing the cup holding Windu's tea was a strong one, or else it might have shattered and caused a mess.  Windu stared at him for a moment then abruptly sat on the sofa, putting his tea on the table between them.  It sloshed, and drops fell on the polished wood.  "What are you playing at here, Jinn?  I find you living like a king in the palace of the Sith, in a suite of rooms that defines decadence and with servants at your beck and call.  Tell me, do you also have a harem of young boys to sleep with you at night?"

I will not get angry, Qui-Gon chanted to himself.  "I hardly think that's an appropriate question for the situation, Mace."

"I disagree.  All of us have been wondering what you've been doing here the past five months, why we've barely seen any progress on the treaty--"

"I've been working on the treaty every damn day, Windu.  Don't you dare go accusing me of not working."

"Then why haven't we seen better updates from you?"

"Because there's little to show.  Not yet.  But in less than a month, the treaty will be completed and ready to sign."  They glared at each other.  "In the meantime, I have been tutoring the heirs, sharing information with the Empress about the Dhro and making plans for the upcoming battle with him.  Make no mistake, Windu, the Empire will be where it ends, one way or another."

"And I'm supposed to believe that, believe you're not just sitting here in luxury, eating and drinking and probably fucking everything in sight--"

"You are out of line!" Qui-Gon roared, his temper finally snapping.  "Keep your damned nose out of my private life, Windu!  I cannot believe you would question my comportment here... this is my mission, not yours!"

"You are a gods-damned Jedi, Jinn, you do not have a private life!  And I know you altogether too well -- this isn't a mission for you, it's a chance to roll around in the luxury you've been wanting!"  Windu jumped to his feet to bellow at Qui-Gon, who had forgotten what kind of lung power Windu had.

"You don't know me, you've never known me!  Don't you go accusing me of the most abominable behavior because of your overwhelming jealousy!"

"How dare you!"  Under his dark coloring, Windu was nearly purple with rage.  

Not letting him say anything else, Qui-Gon stood, shamelessly using his superior height against the man, and continued.  "If you cannot separate your private concerns from your job as a Council member, then I suggest you find someone to take your place, Master Windu, for if there is anyone here who has lost his objectivity, it is not me!"

They stared at each other for a long, silent moment, each one fuming, each one ready to tear the throat out of the other with the least provocation.  Qui-Gon took in a deep breath and held it, counting backwards in Skakoan, trying to rein in his overwhelming fury.  Windu was obviously doing the same, only with less success.

"I want to see the treaty," Mace finally ground out through clenched teeth.  "I want to see just exactly what you have been doing here, while you've been working every day.  This posting of yours may have been foreseen, but it does not mean you can use it to unfair advantage."

Suddenly weary of the whole blasted thing, weary of Windu's jealousy, his posturing, his suspicious nature, Qui-Gon shook his head and collapsed back on his chair.  "Fine, Mace.  Fine.  Whatever you want."  Not even bothering to look up, Qui-Gon picked up his tea again and took a deep sip.  The beverage soothed him, but not enough.

"And I want to know what the hells you've been doing with the heir.  I want to know why you've been bothering the Healers and all about this ridiculous fantasy of yours over a Dark Force user."

"It's not a fantasy."  There was a headache blooming behind his eyes, but he would be damned before he'd show weakness to Mace Windu.  "I've been training him, teaching him in the ways of the Force--"

"The Force?  That's forbidden here!"

"Not any longer."  He would not raise his voice again, he would not.

"Let me make sure I understand this," Windu said, his voice a loud growl.  "You've been teaching a forbidden thing, our one edge, to our arch-enemies, inventing pipe-dreams about a monster under the bed, and all this while working 'every day' on the treaty which was to help us against the Dhro."

"I told you, it's not forbidden any longer.  And the Dark Force is not a monster under the bed, Mace."  Idly, he wondered if he should be having this conversation here, where the Dark Force user could listen in.  Maul's paranoia must be rubbing off on him.  "Freedon Nadd--"

"Freedon Nadd is a name to scare children into behaving," Mace said.  His tone had left scornful in the dust and was now verging on caustic.

Qui-Gon sighed.  It really was no use.  He'd forgotten how much he'd chafed under the yoke of the Council and their rigid ways.  "The entire royal family is very Force-sensitive.  I've been -- at her Exalted Majesty's specific request -- teaching them meditation and shielding techniques."

"What are you going to be doing next, helping them build lightsabers?"  

Qui-Gon closed his eyes and just gave up.  "Mace, why did you come here?"  Qui-Gon was aware his voice carried his weariness, but didn't care anymore; his anger dried up like a puddle in the sun.  "Was it just to chastise me for nonexistent infractions or did you have a genuine purpose?  You can't possibly have intended to enjoy yourself at the fetes, because the part of you that could have fun atrophied long ago."

Windu stared at him for a long, silent moment.  His fury radiated from him, though he probably justified it as righteous wrath.  Qui-Gon sat still, looking at him sadly, wondering how he could ever have thought himself in love with this man.

"I think I've seen enough and heard enough from you, Jinn.  I don't have to stand here and be insulted by someone who is hardly the epitome of Jedi in the first place."

There was absolutely nothing Qui-Gon could say at that, because on many levels, he felt proud of it.  Yes, he was hardly the epitome of Jedi, and he was glad.  Glad not to be an automaton, a mimic who repeated back all the boring platitudes the Jedi called rules of order.

Before he could speak, before he could think of a way to get Windu out of his rooms and out of his sight (other than killing him), there was a tap on the door.  "I'm sorry... am I intruding?"  Obion pushed the door open and though his face was guileless, his eyes were glittering in anger.

"Of course not, your Highness," Qui-Gon said, rising once more, putting his empty cup on the table next to Windu's untouched one.  Windu rose as well.  "You haven't met the head of my order, Master Mace Windu.  Master Windu, this is his Highness, the heir to the Empire, Obion from the clan Kenobi."

Obion did not offer anything to Windu, though he did move to stand next to Qui-Gon in silent support.  For his part, Windu was nearly insulting in the way he examined the heir from top to toe.  "Charmed, I'm sure," he said.  Turning back to Qui-Gon, he spoke through gritted teeth.  "I think I understand now, Jinn.  I think I understand quite well."

"I'm pleased you do so," Obion said before Qui-Gon could even open his mouth.  He turned toward the heir and blinked in surprise as Obion continued to speak.  "We are quite grateful the Jedi were willing to part with Master Jinn, though we're sure his absence is keenly felt.  He has become exceedingly important to the Empire, and we would be loath to part with him again, on any terms."

It was all Qui-Gon could do to keep his mouth from sagging open.  Obion's words were as much of a threat as he'd ever heard, and completely astonishing.

Windu must have heard the implied menace in those words as well, as his face lost much of its arrogance and he appeared to be floundering. He looked between Qui-Gon and Obion, confusion and frustration obviously warring with the sense of propriety and diplomacy the Jedi had beaten into him over the years.  Obion crossed his arms in front of his chest and stared at Windu.  It wasn't a challenging stare as much as it was a drawing the line stare: Obion had drawn the line when it came to Qui-Gon, and he would not allow Windu to cross it.

"I... apologize, your Highness," Windu finally said.  He managed to keep his voice pitched low but Qui-Gon was willing to bet it was at some cost to himself.  "And I am pleased to hear of your acceptance of Master Jinn."

"Dark times can require harsh measures, Master Windu."  There was no 'revered Jedi' in Obion's voice where Mace was concerned.  He glanced at Qui-Gon and there was something in his eyes Qui-Gon didn't really want to think about.  "The Sith Empire is grateful our brethren on Selonia are willing to give up one of their best in order to assure the reconciliation."

Windu's jaw worked, but he must have finally realized the danger he was in.  He bowed, and when he came back up, his face was a mask of neutrality and his voice all but a monotone.  "The Jedi are pleased the Sith Empire is satisfied with Master Jinn's presence here.  We look forward to the completion of the treaty and the rejoining of the Empire with the Jedi."  Obion nodded and smiled, though it didn't reach his eyes.  "If you will excuse me, I should return to my room and unpack."

"Terrell," Qui-Gon called, and Terrell immediately entered the room.  "Please show Master Windu back to his room."  Qui-Gon turned to Obion.  "Is there a page set up for the Councilors, Highness?"

"Yes, there is."  Obion nodded minimally in reply to Mace's bow, and didn't turn until the door audibly closed behind Windu and Terrell.  

They remained motionless for quite a while, then Qui-Gon said, "How long were you listening?"

"Long enough -- the door was open," Obion replied, his voice wry as he repeated Qui-Gon's words from days before.

"I know," Qui-Gon replied.  He picked up his cup and Mace's, wiping the drops of spilled tea with the hem of his stola.  "I'm sorry you had to hear that."

"Who the fuck does that asswipe think he is?"  Qui-Gon froze in shock.  Though he had heard the heir use the occasional expletives, Obion's vehemence came as a surprise.  "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Obion said immediately, shaking his head.  "It's just... he makes Palpatine look like Maisen."

Smiling ruefully, Qui-Gon filled his cup again with the lukewarm tea. "We have a history, Mace and I," he explained quietly.  "Between that and the fact that he doesn't think me much of a Jedi makes it difficult for us to get along."

"A history?"  Obion sat on the sofa and Qui-Gon took the other end, reluctantly.

Not wanting to have this conversation, but suspicious that Obion would continue to nudge him until he talked, Qui-Gon sighed and sipped his tea.  "I think I told you I had been in love once.  What I didn't tell you was that it wasn't reciprocated... at least not in the way I wanted."

"Ah."  Obion's reply carried a wealth of sympathy and remorse.  "I'm sorry.  I didn't mean to pick at scabs covering old wounds.  It's just that I don't like hearing anyone speak to you... I mean, well, not just you... I don't like hearing anyone speak that badly of another."  His mouth twisted into a wry smile.  "Mother used to say to Maisen, 'sticks and stones will break bones, but words will break a heart.'  The invective I heard..."  He sighed.  "It's hard for me to reconcile thinking about the man I know you to be with the man I heard cursing you.  You don't... seem to go very well together... and it's none of my business."

Qui-Gon had to swallow and look down to beat back emotion.  "It's hard for me at times too," he murmured.  "It's funny how people can change so much over so little."

"Not so little.  I may be young still, but I know -- love isn't little."  

Qui-Gon looked up at Obion's words and was caught in the heir's compassionate regard.  It frightened him far more than the thought of a Dark Force user or the Dhro.  Those threats, he knew how to handle, how to deal with.  This one, the threat of the beautiful man who was a son of the Empire, he wasn't sure he knew how to handle at all.  Yes, words could break a heart, but so could Obion -- at least his own heart.

When had he become the fragile one who needed gentle handling?

After a long silence while Qui-Gon contemplated that odd idea, Obion spoke again.  "I know it's early, but I thought you might want to come with me to the gym now, instead of later.  Tonight's dinner promises to be a long, tedious affair, and I thought you might want the serenity exercise brings you."

And when had Obion become so attuned to Qui-Gon's state of being?

He took a deep breath and finished his almost-cold tea.  "That sounds like a wonderful idea.  Let me change and I'll meet you there?"

Obion nodded, and with a sweet smile on his face, he stood and left the suite.  Qui-Gon watched him go and felt the last walls around his heart start to crumble.

Qui-Gon was limbering up when Obion arrived in the room, several minutes later.  As he entered, he pulled a small, scuffed and much-used case out of the bag he usually brought with him; it had been wrapped in one of the towels.  "I wanted to show you something," he said, and Qui-Gon could have sworn his voice was tentative.

He stopped stretching and raised an eyebrow.  Obion brought him the case.  "This is one of the heirlooms of the Wan Dynasty," he said.  "It started, you know, with Nomi Sunrider and her consort, the Jedi Ulic Qel-Droma."

Obion carefully opened the case and lifted aside tattered, pale green silk.  Nestled within was a beautifully crafted lightsaber.  Prominent upon it was a round crest which bore the sigil of the Sunrider clan.  Qui-Gon gaped.  "Sunrider's lightsaber?"

"Uh-huh."  Obion held the case out to him.  "Go on, take it.  I want your opinion on it."

Feeling almost sacrilegious, Qui-Gon gingerly extricated the 'saber from its home.  The balance was extraordinary, and the workmanship exquisite.  "I can't believe it's in such good shape," he murmured, hefting it.

"Nomi Sunrider was the last Sith to use a lightsaber," Obion said.  "Her husband taught her how to build one, how to use it."

"Qel-Droma is considered a heretic and an outcast in Jedi histories," Qui-Gon said absently.  "He married a Sith and in the Jedi's eyes, he became a Sith."

"Which sounds significantly better than remaining a Jedi," Obion snapped, then immediately grimaced in apology.  "I am sorry, Qui-Gon, but I'm afraid the Jedi -- with one notable exception -- do not impress me."

Qui-Gon sighed.  "I wish I could refute that believably," he said.  He did wish that, with a sad, quiet acknowledgement that it wasn't going to happen.

"I'd like to open it, but I didn't want to risk breaking it.  Do you know how?"

"Yes, but..."  Well, the casing looked and felt almost new to Qui-Gon.  Despite being over a millennia old, was in excellent shape.  "Let me see."

The art of making a lightsaber hadn't changed for eons, Qui-Gon knew.  If Qel-Droma had taught Nomi Sunrider how to make her 'saber, then it should conform to standard.  Which meant the catch on the side should lead to...

He pressed and pulled gently and the case opened easily.  Nestled within were the cradles that held the heart of the blade: two stones, one a deep, wine red and the other a vibrant blue.  "I've never seen this before, though I've heard of it," Qui-Gon said, awed and enchanted.

"What do you mean?"

"Two different stones.  We're taught to use either Ilum sapphires or emeralds, never anything else, and always in pairs.  But this uses two different stones, an Ilum sapphire and a grossulite."

"The kind you mentioned a while ago."

"Yes."

"What happens when you use two different stones like this?"  Obion's finger was delicately tracing the wiring from the cradle, and he cocked his head to see the power supply better.

"Well, first, you'd have to make sure the stones were of equal power and feel, within the Force.  Ilum crystal is almost always Force-sensitive, but grossulites and other crystal have as much a chance of being Force-blind as being Force-sensitive.  It can take a long time to find just the right stones, if you're going to use two different types.  The output would be different, as well.  Possibly stronger."

"But these are natural stones, yes?  Not manufactured."

"Oh yes, these are natural," Qui-Gon replied, assuring Obion.  "I couldn't imagine Sunrider or Qel-Droma using anything else.  The artificial stones are a completely different thing, though I've never seen any.  They don't actually resonate in the Force, I've read; the Dark Force users who used them forced them to do the same thing a natural stone would do."

Obion nodded.  "I understand, I think.  What color blade would this produce?"

"I would think it would be a dark purple," Qui-Gon replied.  "But it's hard to say without testing it."

"Do you think these stones are still useful?"

Qui-Gon closed his eyes and sought his calm center, aligning himself to the Force.  After a moment, without opening his eyes, he let his free hand hover over the stones, let himself feel them within the Force.  They were lit with a pure, bright clarity that took his breath away.  "They're perfect."

He glanced at Obion in time to see a delighted smile spread across the heir's face.  "Could I use them, then?  Could I build my own lightsaber with them?"

Taken aback, Qui-Gon was equally stunned by the nearly overwhelming Force surge at Obion's words.  The Force, it seemed, wanted him to help Obion build a 'saber, teach him in its use, show him how to be an avatar for the Light.  He closed his eyes for a moment, overcome: he was no Ulic Qel-Droma!  How could he guide this young man, so like his ancestress, in the ways of the Force, the ways of... of...

He already was.  He had been doing so now for months.  Building a lightsaber was just the next logical step.

The Force was singing to him with a disgustingly sweet melody and for the second time in his life, he felt frustrated with it.  The Force blithely ignored his attempts at anthropomorphism and continued with its song, knowing he would follow, knowing he would have no choice but to follow.

When he opened his eyes again, he saw Obion's were concerned, and that adorable little line was once again between his brows.  "Qui-Gon?"

To fight a Force compulsion is to invite madness.  But madness seemed to await him anyway, so what the hell.  "I don't see why not," he said, and even to his own ears, his voice sounded odd.

Luckily for Qui-Gon, the whole lightsaber question was shelved for the holiday celebrations.  Obion had been right; dinner that evening had been an extremely stuffy state affair made even stuffier by the presence of the Jedi Council.  The Empress requested the Council members attend the staff meetings so they could share information gathered on the Dhro, but that only gave the Sith ministers a chance to snipe at the Jedi, and vice versa.  It had worked better when Qui-Gon presented the information, and the Empress finally, wryly, acknowledged that.

Maisen had, for some reason, been taken with the Jedi children and was spending most of her days with them.  Everyone from the Empress to the Seneschal was puzzled by her behavior, but since she wasn't getting into trouble, they let it slide.  

Before it seemed possible, the first day of the Fete was upon them, and that meant First Night celebrations.  Traditionally, Mummer's Fete lasted three days, with gradually escalating events on each day.  The first night was for family, the second for children, and the third was always the grandest of all, and was celebrated in the palace by the huge, all-encompassing masquerade ball.  

Family in the palace of course meant different things to the royal house than it did for the commoners.  The First Night Ball was open to all who actually lived in the palace, including servants, but it was still a much more subdued affair than the Third Night Masquerade.  After a certain hesitation, Qui-Gon threw caution to the winds and dressed in the beautiful clothing Bellen suggested, rather than his standard cream and brown.  He knew what Mace Windu would say, and was amused to find himself not caring a bit.

He felt ridiculous out of his Jedi uniform, but the looks he received as he entered the smaller ballroom made up for it.  The Jedi contingent was hovering in a corner together, their displeasure at the excess of the Sith celebration apparent.  When they saw Qui-Gon, the temperature in their corner took a nosedive.  But when Cliadle and Aliamon saw him, their quite-obvious delight and approval more than made up for the Jedi's disapproval.

The Empress was at one end of the room, on a large throne; moved as needed, it was the only one in the palace.  She had told Qui-Gon once before she hated the ornate, grandiose thing and all it represented, but it did come in handy when it was necessary to instill the proper reverence -- or terror -- in a visitor to the Empire.  It was certainly creating awe this evening, though that might have been because of the person sitting on it.  She was wearing a beautiful gown that perfectly showed off her creamy complexion and silver-shot, light brown hair.  No jewels, however, though Qui-Gon knew there were heirlooms to her royal house.  She should have been dwarfed by her massive seat; instead, she seemed to effortlessly fill it, claim it as her own.

"You look positively ravishing tonight, Qui-Gon," she said as he paid his duty to her.  Her eyes were sparkling with amusement as she looked him up and down.

"I feel rather ridiculous, to be honest," he told her, and she laughed.  "Something tells me my secretary was not the sole conspirator in this mystery, however.  Especially since everything fits perfectly."

"I'm pleased it does," she replied, neatly sidestepping the issue, the corners of her mouth twitching.  "Ah... here comes Obion."

Qui-Gon turned and immediately forgot how to breathe.  Obion was wearing a suit much like Qui-Gon's, only in an exquisite shade of blue-green that set his eyes and coloring off.  His suit was the match for Aliamon's gown, in fact, and Qui-Gon was hard-pressed to determine which heir was the more beautiful.

Obion paused in his journey across the dance floor -- the musicians were just warming up -- and he blinked as he saw Qui-Gon.  The heat in his eyes was unmistakable as he finished his journey, and Qui-Gon felt he might be burned by it.

"Exalted Mother."  Obion bowed to his mother, and she smiled proudly.

"Eldest Son.  Please perform your duty to the family."

"As it is your wish, Exalted Mother, it is mine to execute."  He turned and signaled to the conductor, who had been watching, and immediately the band struck up a lively reel.  Obion turned to Qui-Gon and bowed.  His mouth was also twitching as he looked Qui-Gon up and down, and Qui-Gon knew he was in deep trouble.  "May I have the first dance, Master Jinn?"

Swallowing his trepidation, Qui-Gon nodded and took Obion's hand.

The song was cheerful and fast, but they were alone on the dance floor until the long first measure had been played.  Obion led with confidence and Qui-Gon tried to keep from staring at the man in his arms, finding it difficult to do.  Once others began to join them on the floor, it became easier.  Obion pointed out Anikin dancing with Padme, and they both smiled.  Ali was dancing with Bruck Chun, which worried Qui-Gon, though she appeared to be handling the boy's attention well.  He looked for Terrell -- he had hoped to match his page with Aliamon at some point.  Maisen was spending the evening with the Jedi children again, and all the older heirs appeared to be grateful for the reprieve.

The dance ended and Obion bowed to him.  "It is time for my duty to my family, Master Jinn, but I would like another dance with you, soon."

Qui-Gon bowed back, hoping his face didn't reflect his intense feelings.  "It would be my pleasure, your Highness."  And it would be a pleasure to him... holding Obion in his arms was beyond anything Qui-Gon had ever experienced.

Yes, he had it bad... very bad.

Obion walked to his mother and gallantly held out his hand as the band continued to play.  Cliadle claimed Qui-Gon, and the evening passed in a swirl of color, music, laughter and Qui-Gon was mildly surprised to realize how much fun he was having.  

The Jedi refused all offers of dancing, which seemed ludicrous to Qui-Gon.  Had this been another court, another world, had the Jedi been there for diplomatic reasons not directly involving the Order, they would have had no trouble dancing with the locals.  But Qui-Gon realized the only reason they were refusing here was that it was the court of the Sith Empire.  They were allowing their prejudices to show, and he found it disgusting.

The Empress was being attended by her Seneschal; Maul was nowhere in sight.  During one of the slower pavanes, Qui-Gon asked for a dance and she graciously allowed it.  He ushered her around the floor, the steps of the stately dance as familiar as breathing to him.  "Where's Maul?" he asked her as they moved together.

"He... well, he feels his physical presence would be a damper on the festivities, though he is always close by," she said lightly, though her eyes were sad.  "I cannot convince him otherwise."

"Ah."  Maul wasn't quite as self-assured as he seemed, then.  "That's unfortunate.  I miss him here."

"I as well."  They continued to move through the now-crowded floor.  "I am sorry the Jedi do not seem to be enjoying themselves," she said, as the dance took them near where the Jedi sat.  Mace Windu's face was frozen in a glower.

"It's their loss, Majesty.  We cannot force them to have a good time."

"Well said, Master Jinn."  The music ended; she answered his bow with a deep curtsey.

"May I get you something to drink, Majesty?" he asked, as he escorted her back to the throne.

"I would say yes save for the fact that my son seems intent on claiming you for another dance."  Obion was on an intercept course, and indeed held his hand out to Qui-Gon.

The band was playing a beautiful waltz, and there was no way he was turning the heir to the Empire down, it wouldn't be diplomatic at all.  He accepted the request as graciously as he could.

"I'm weary of leading... will you take it?" Obion asked as they joined hands.

"Certainly," he replied.  

He might not have been leading, but Obion was certainly steering them gently towards the open doors to the large patio which looked over the huge public garden in front of the palace.  It was cooler outside, and revels could be heard in the city as the First Night celebrations continued.  The music ended but Obion stayed near him, taking his arm and moving to the balustrade.

"I just need a break," Obion said as Qui-Gon looked at him.  "You look wonderful, by the way."

"Thank you."  It was a good thing the light spilling from the ballroom wasn't sufficient to show Qui-Gon's face clearly.  "And thank you for the dance... for both of them."

"Thank you."  They moved to one dark end of the large balcony, leaned on the edge of the low wall and looked out at the city.  The swirling, multicolored glow from the particle shield cast odd shadows, and though it still hid the stars, Qui-Gon found he was becoming used to it.  

"I've often wondered what it would be like growing up in a place where you could see the stars by just looking out a window," Obion mused, staring up.  "The shield is as much a part of us as the palace is, but there are times..."

"You can see them any time you want on Selonia," Qui-Gon murmured, also staring at the shuttered sky, "but I'm beginning to find I would have rather grown up here, without them."  

"You give up much to become a Jedi, don't you?" Obion asked softly.

"Yes."  Qui-Gon swallowed.  "Sometimes I think it's too much."

They stood in silence for a long time.  The band began playing faster songs, and the light and laughter from the ballroom floor made Qui-Gon smile.  Not even the Jedi disapproval could ruin this evening for him.  The Force was almost a living, palpable thing in all this happiness and joy, but the Jedi would never know that, would rather ignore it than acknowledge it.  Happiness was just another emotion to be released, and joy something others got to feel, not the Jedi.  Qui-Gon had a sudden, mind-bending thought: who could be considered closer to the true Force, the Jedi or the Sith?

He was afraid he knew the answer to that, and wasn't sure he could acknowledge it.

"Qui-Gon..."  Obion was looking up at him, a half-smile on his face.  "I wanted..."  

Qui-Gon looked down and was immediately snared in a blue-gray regard.  "Obion?"  His mouth went dry.  In the glow from the ballroom and the sky, Obion looked almost ethereal.

Obion took a deep breath as if to speak, then blinked, almost in surprise.  He reached his hand up instead, tangled it in Qui-Gon's hair and tugged on the back of his neck, gently.  Qui-Gon could no more have refused that light nudge than he could have stopped breathing.

Just before their lips met, Obion breathed, "Yes."

Qui-Gon didn't want to close his eyes.  He wanted to watch, wanted to see and catalog and remember not just the taste (the wonderful, incredible taste) but the feel, the look, as well.  He wanted to breathe Obion's air and crawl inside Obion's skin to take up residence, as Obion had taken up residence in his.

Their first touch was tentative, gentle and quick; then they both licked their lips and fell together again, more firmly.  Obion took a half step forward and Qui-Gon lifted one hand to Obion's face, letting his long fingers run through silky hair while his other hand wrapped around Obion's waist.  His eyelids sagged shut as he tasted Obion's mouth, as Obion latched his other hand onto Qui-Gon's shirt and tugged them even closer.  One of them moaned, softly, but Qui-Gon had no idea which one it was.

Sinking into Obion's mouth was a revelation, a dream come true.  Qui-Gon wanted this one moment to become forever, where he could always be standing in the warm darkness with his arms around and his lips attached to Obion.  Their auras glowed and merged as the world tipped beneath them, and Obion's tongue politely asked for entrance in Qui-Gon's mouth, gently insinuating itself not only into Qui-Gon's mouth but right into his soul.

So caught up he was in the kiss, in the feel and taste of the young man who he was startled to discover lived in his heart, he nearly missed the warning shriek of the Force.  They both must have felt it at the same time, for they broke apart, gasping, and looked around in confusion.

"I knew it was him."  From deep in the shadows of the balcony, the trembling voice of Minister Palpatine preceded him.  He was carrying a blaster, and Qui-Gon immediately stepped in front of Obion, mentally cursing the fact that he had left his 'saber in his room.  "I knew he was the one who took you from me.  I knew it.  Damned Jedi.  There's a reason why the Sith hate the Jedi."

"Roberd, stop."  Obion's voice was much steadier than Palpatine's.  "Qui-Gon has nothing to do with us.  You're being ridiculous."

"I love you, Obi!"  Palpatine's aura carried extreme confusion and emotional pain, and it gave Qui-Gon pause.  It did not feel like the aura of someone who was in control, or even someone who desired control, like a Dark Force user.  It felt more like the aura of someone who was actually under control, which was far more frightening.  "And to prove it, I'm going to kill him, and then we can be together again."

"No, you're not.  Roberd, you do this and I will behead you myself.  Put that weapon down."

"No, you'll see how much you love me once he's gone.  My master has promised.  You'll see."

Time slowed down to a crawl, allowing Qui-Gon to see everything clearly.  Though Obion tried to push Qui-Gon out of the way, he planted his feet and stood firm; he was expendable, the heir to the Sith Empire was not.  He watched, bemused, as Palpatine's finger tightened on the trigger, heard Obion's shout, then heard the familiar snap-hiss-hum of a lightsaber, even as the bolt left the blaster.

A vibrant blue blade cut across the small distance between Roberd Palpatine and Qui-Gon Jinn, deflecting the bolt back to its origin.  Palpatine took it in the shoulder and crumpled with a cry that seemed incredibly loud in the sudden silence -- the band had stopped playing, apparently.  

Qui-Gon blinked as time once again began to flow normally.  He looked at the bright blade in front of him, following it to a black, oddly long handle, and from there to the black-gloved hand wielding it.  "I had a feeling he was going to do something like this," Maul said calmly.

The Empress would not let anything stop the festivities, which meant once Palpatine was removed to his room under the care of Dr. Pfelling, she returned and the party continued.  Most of the revelers hadn't even noticed what had happened.  Maul, Obion and Qui-Gon waited in Palpatine's outer room for the doctor's report.

Qui-Gon was still in shock.  "You have a lightsaber," he kept saying to Maul, who finally had to chuckle at Qui-Gon's incredulous tone.

"Yes, though I don't use it very often."  Maul held it out.  It looked like a very slender, very long 'saber, save for the extra buttons and the color: matte black.  "It's actually a lightstaff."  He made sure no one was in the way and ignited first one end, then the other.  

Completely flabbergasted, Qui-Gon shook his head.  "I've never seen the like.  Ilum sapphires?"

"Yes, three of them, though I only found that out after I got here and started doing research."  Maul keyed off the lightstaff and shook his head.  "I wish I remembered more about my past," he muttered.

Dr. Pfelling came out of the bedroom before Qui-Gon could respond to that statement.  "He's going to be fine.  I have him under sedation."

"He'll have to be moved to the dungeon," Obion said.  "Is he up to that?"

"Yes, he will be, should be by the morning.  He'll be out until then, I've seen to that.  He's lost some blood, but I don't foresee any problems."

"I'll have two of my men stationed here tonight, to make sure nothing happens."  Maul nodded to the doctor as he approached the teleunit.  "Thank you."

"My pleasure, Maul.  Please call me if you need me."

The three of them watched as Dr. Pfelling left, then Obion grabbed Qui-Gon's arm.  "Don't ever do that again," he growled, and Qui-Gon realized with a start Obion was shaking.  Maul turned and looked at them curiously as Qui-Gon spoke.

"Obion?  What...?"

"You were going to let him shoot you... you were going to stand there and let that bastard shoot you.  Don't you ever, ever..."  Abruptly, Obion pulled Qui-Gon into a tight embrace, and Qui-Gon found himself giving as much as he was getting.  "You said you wouldn't leave," Obion muttered.  "Promise me."

"Obion..."  Qui-Gon closed his eyes and buried his face in Obion's hair.  "You're the heir to the Empire.  Your life is far more important than that of one old, heretical Jedi."

"Not to me."

Their tight embrace lasted long, silent moments before they found the strength to end it.  Maul let them have the time, and when Obion finally moved away, he put his hands on both their shoulders.  "It'll be all right, Obi," he murmured.  He glanced between them.  "But right now I need the two of you to think about that lunatic in there."  Turning more towards Qui-Gon, Maul added, "He's not the Dark Force user, is he?"

"No, I don't think so."  

Obion, who kept one arm tightly around Qui-Gon's waist, gaped at the two men.  "He's not?"

"I'd like to get my friend Plo Koon in here, to examine Palpatine, to make sure I'm right.  He's the strongest of the Jedi at reading and interpreting auras, as well as mind control."  Qui-Gon looked down at Obion and decided not to say how wonderful Obion's arm around his waist felt.  Maul was right, they needed to focus.  "He might be able to tell us more."

Maul nodded.  "Do you want to go get him or would you prefer I send a page?"  

What Qui-Gon preferred was to stay right where he was and sink into Obion for the rest of his life, but that wasn't an option at the moment.  "He may respond better to a summons from a page."

Maul just nodded and made another call on the teleunit.  Obion's arm tightened, and Obion opened his mouth to speak.  Before he could utter a word, however, Bruck Chun burst into the room.  "What happened?  Where is he?"

The young man was almost frantic.  Qui-Gon put out his arm and stopped him, made him look at Qui-Gon.  But it was Obion who spoke to him, in a cold voice.

"Your guardian tried to kill us this evening, Chun."  

Chun's eyes grew big and his mouth fell open.  "He what?"

"He made his intentions perfectly clear, and in fact, if it weren't for the security chief, we'd be dead."

Well, no, Qui-Gon didn't think Palpatine would have fired again to kill Obion, but he wouldn't argue the point with Obion now, it wasn't the time or place.

"Why?"  Chun looked between the two of them and his shoulders slumped.  He almost looked near tears.  "Why would he do such a thing?  He said he loved you, Highness.  He told me that."

"He did?"  Maul, finished with his call, came over and took Chun's arm, turning him away from Obion.  "When?"

"All the time."  Chun sighed, then swallowed.  "I know his Highness had said or done something, something he didn't agree with, and he was feeling very depressed about it.  I think."  Craning his neck so he could look at everyone in the room, he added, "He doesn't talk to me very much, not anymore, anyway.  What happened?  Is he all right?  What's going to happen now?"

"He's resting.  Dr. Pfelling has him under sedation.  You can see for yourself, if you want."  Maul used the hand on Chun's arm to gently steer him to the bedroom door, which was still open.  

Chun stood in the doorway for a moment, then shook his head and turned.  His face reflected his devastation.  "Why would he do such a thing?"

"We're hoping you might be able to answer that, Chun."  Maul's voice was soft but carried command.  "He didn't say anything about an obsession with his Highness, or the revered Jedi?"

"Not really, not any more than what he usually says."  He bit his lip, then looked over his shoulder at Obion again.  "He really does love you, Highness."

Obion's face was an interesting study, and Qui-Gon couldn't easily tell how he felt about the situation.  Chun, however, was as open a file as he could be, at least he appeared as such.  It might be dissembling, but it certainly felt like honest confusion to Qui-Gon.  

As Maul began asking Chun more questions, about his guardian's use of a blaster, if he had said anything about the ball, Qui-Gon leaned down to murmur in Obion's ear.  "Ground and center, Obion.  Look at his aura."

After a quick, surprised look at Qui-Gon, Obion closed his eyes and took a deep breath.  He was becoming increasingly adept at the process, and quickly found his center.  When he opened his eyes again, he was seeing what Qui-Gon saw: an aura like old, faded roses; yellow with what were probably regrets and dull green with missed chances.  It was not the tainted aura of one under another's control, or even an aura thick with promise, like Obion's.

It was ordinary.

Ordinary and completely confusing.  Bruck Chun was the ward of the man they suspected might have been the Dark Force user.  Certainly Palpatine's aura was one of restrained power; Qui-Gon knew he was very Force-sensitive but couldn't tell to what degree.  And hiding one's aura, projecting it as something other than what it was -- masking it, like a face covered by a domino -- was not difficult to learn.  It was difficult to sustain, it was true, but not impossible.  It was how Freedon Nadd managed to get by the Jedi all those millennia ago.

As Qui-Gon mulled over the puzzle, there was a tap on the door and the page Maul had summoned ushered Plo Koon into the room.  It was impossible to read the tall Kel Dor Council member, which was how he wanted it, actually -- the facemask made it easier for him.  It relieved Qui-Gon to feel his friend's pleasure at finding him at the end of a summons.

Reluctantly releasing his hold on Obion, Qui-Gon turned to his friend and bowed.  Plo had been quiet and there hadn't been time to get him alone since the Council had arrived, and this was hardly the way he wanted to greet his old friend.  Shaking hands with himself -- he knew how much Plo hated to be touched -- Qui-Gon projected his own pleasure at seeing his friend again.

"Plo.  It's been a long time, my friend."

"It is good to see you, Qui-Gon."  At times, he found Plo's mask-filtered voice difficult to decipher.  This was not one of them.

"Plo, it gives me pleasure to introduce the heir to the Sith Empire, his Highness Obion of the Clan Kenobi.  Obion, this is my good friend and member of the Jedi Council, Plo Koon."  Taking his hint from Qui-Gon, Obion merely bowed and smiled, and found his bow, at least, returned.  "And this is the head of security here in the palace, Maul.  Maul, my friend Plo Koon."

"It is good to meet you, revered Jedi Councilor Koon."  Maul also bowed, after planting Bruck Chun on the sofa and asking him to stay there.

Seeing formality out of the way, Qui-Gon got immediately down to business.  "Did you see what happened earlier this evening, Plo?"

"No, I did not, though I have heard rumors."  He cocked his head.  "Does this have anything to do with your mysterious, alleged Dark Force user?"

"Yes, it does.  And he's not alleged, we just don't know who it is."  Qui-Gon waved Plo deeper into the suite, following him.  "His Highness' aura was extremely contaminated when I arrived, and we thought it was the work of this person, the First Minister, Roberd Palpatine."  Palpatine was stretched out on his bed with a light blanket covering him.  "Tonight, he tried to kill me.  Maul prevented it."

Plo's head jerked up and he stared hard at Qui-Gon.  "He tried to kill you?  Why?"

Qui-Gon sighed and wished he could avoid the question.  "He... well, he seems to feel he's in love with his Highness, and that I stood between them."  Shaking his head, Qui-Gon avoided Plo's masked gaze.  "He did say something when he made the attempt that caused me to realize he was actually under control as well -- or perhaps the apprentice."

"There are always two," Plo murmured.  He glanced at the young man on the sofa, who had his head in his hands.  "But Qui-Gon, how could there be a Dark Force user here?  We would surely detect it."

"How?"  Qui-Gon pitched his voice lower, so only Plo, Maul and Obion could hear.  "Why would we be looking?  You know how the Council feels: Dark Force users are extinct.  None could possibly be alive now, in our time.  It's something that's been raised in the past and always slapped down."

"The last one to allege it was cast from the order," Plo agreed, nodding.  "But it was hundreds of years ago that Yoda was excommunicated, Qui-Gon.  And nothing ever came of his allegations, which only proves the point.  We would know."

Well, at least Plo wasn't outright mocking him.  "All I ask is for your help, old friend.  Read this man here, and his ward, the young man on the sofa.  Tell me if you don't believe me then."

After a long moment of silence, Plo nodded.  He walked into the bedroom and stood by Palpatine's bed, looking down at the man upon it, and Qui-Gon could feel Plo ground, center and call upon the Force.  Obion apparently could as well, and even Maul leaned forward, looking like a canine at point.

Qui-Gon knew, at least partly, what Plo would see: Palpatine's aura, which Qui-Gon saw as a dark orange in color, bright but corrupt, like rust on polished plasteel.  Plo, though, should be able to sense more, and should be able to sense any real darkness residing in Palpatine.  Hopefully, if Palpatine were the apprentice of the Dark Force user, Plo would be able to tell.

Plo stood still for a long time at Palpatine's bedside, looking down at the unconscious man upon it.  Obion shifted until he was brushing against Qui-Gon, though he didn't take his eyes off Plo.  Maul made sure to stay where he could see both rooms, and when the main door opened to admit two liveried security guards, he nodded for them to stay by the door.

Finally, nearly fifteen minutes after he started, Plo took a deep breath and stepped away, wobbling for a moment before finding his balance.  He turned and once again Qui-Gon wished he could see the Councilor's face.  "I would like to see the young man, this man's ward, did you say?"

"Yes, let me introduce you."  Qui-Gon knew better than to ask Plo what he had seen, and shook his head minutely at Obion's curious glance.  "Revered Jedi Councilor Plo Koon, this is Bruck Chun, the ward of Roberd Palpatine."  Chun looked up, his wide eyes staring at those arrayed before him.  "Councilor Koon would like to read your aura, Chun.  It's not invasive, and he won't be able to read your thoughts --" Not the deep ones, anyway -- "all we need you to do is sit still for a few moments."

"All... all right."  Chun seemed to shrink back into himself as Plo approached him, pushing deeper into  the sofa cushions.  They didn't see a lot of non-humans on Corellia, and Plo's countenance was rather frightening as it was.

"Do not fear," Plo said.  "This will not hurt.  I merely need to see your aura."

It took Plo much less time to assess Bruck Chun than for Palpatine.  When he finally looked up and backed away, only a few moments had passed.  He turned to Qui-Gon, shaking his head.  "My friend, I'm not sure..."

Maul interrupted him.  "Revered Jedi, I'm sorry, but perhaps we should have this conversation elsewhere.  I'm sure that Chun would appreciate being able to go back to the party."  

Chun's head bobbed as he looked from person to person.  "Yes, I guess I would."

Maul worked quickly.  He got the guards situated before Palpatine's door, Bruck Chun out of the room and back to the party, then escorted all four of them to the Empress' garden.  Qui-Gon was unsurprised that Maul would bring them there.

Plo and Qui-Gon took seats on the bench.  "Your pardon, revered Jedi," Maul said with a bow.  "But this is the only place where I am assured we cannot be overheard."

Nodding, Plo acknowledged the care, before turning again to Qui-Gon.  "His aura has been compromised, Qui-Gon."

"Palpatine's?"

"Yes, the older man's.  It's not so blatant as what you described the heir's as being," he nodded to Obion, who stood next to Qui-Gon, "but it has definitely been subverted.  His ward's aura, however, is fine, if a little simple."

"Subverted," Qui-Gon repeated.  "Do you believe me now?"

Shaking his head, Plo turned so that he was facing the large tree, which was nothing more than a dark shadow even with the light of the shield spilling on it.  "There are many ways to compromise an aura, Qui-Gon.  It can be done by the person involved, even.  I still don't see that much evidence for a Dark Force user."

"But why?"  Obion stood, his feet planted, his brow furrowed in a frown as he asked.  "Why can't it be a Dark Force user?"

"The last of those was Freedon Nadd and his apprentice, Exar Kun, Highness."  Plo spoke steadily.  "That was millennia ago, and your own ancestress defeated them.  The Dark Force is evil, and those who use it are consumed, sooner or later, by their own actions, by their own lust for power.  A Dark Force user would never settle for one planet -- he would want them all, just as Kun and Nadd did."

"Like the Dhro is doing?"  Plo's head snapped around so he was facing Qui-Gon.  "Can we say for certain the Dhro is not a Dark Force user?"

"The Dhro?  That's... No, that's impossible.  He wouldn't have started on the other side of the galaxy if he were." Plo's words might have been strong, but Qui-Gon could hear his friend's lack of trust in them.  "He would have started on Selonia, getting rid of the Jedi who would be his greatest threat."

"Just because that's how Freedon Nadd did it, it doesn't mean it's the only way to do it." Maul's voice was low and serious.  "And we know he's taking and killing all the Jedi he meets on his way.  It makes a lot of sense, in my opinion."

"Mine, too," Obion agreed.  "Just before Palpatine pulled the trigger, he said 'his master' had promised that I would love him.  That is very telling to me."

Still shaking his head but obviously being swayed by the strength of their arguments, Plo was silent for a long time.  "We must think about this," he finally said. "Your points are valid, even though I don't know if I believe them."

"Plo," Qui-Gon said, as persuasively as possible, "I don't want to believe them.  I don't want another Kun or Nadd loose during my lifetime.  It took the combined might of the Jedi and the Sith, not to mention exceptional heroes like Sunrider and Qel-Droma, to rid our galaxy of it the last time.  I don't know if we have the strength this time.  If one or the other is here, or out there, I don't know whether we can do what we have to do."

"We'll have to," Maul said.  "There's too much at stake.  We don't have a choice."

Plo decided not to go back to the party, choosing instead to return to his quarters and meditate.  Maul offered to escort him, leaving Obion and Qui-Gon alone in the garden, and Qui-Gon wondered if Maul had done it on purpose.

"I'm glad I met Councilor Koon," Obion said softly.  He took a seat on the bench next to Qui-Gon.  "I would hate to have my view of the Jedi colored solely by Councilor Windu."

Qui-Gon sighed.  "Mace does have his good points, Obion, he wouldn't have gotten on the Council otherwise.  He doesn't like me, considers me to be a troublemaking heretic, but even that is nothing so much as his personal feelings coming through.  We ended our personal affair on a very bad note."

"Will you tell me about it?"  Obion's voice was soft and compassionate, and Qui-Gon felt a bit more of the plascrete around his heart crumble.

"There's not much to tell."  He sighed.  "I was in love with him.  He wasn't in love with me.  He has always been the stickler; he toed the line of the Jedi Code, letter and spirit, while I've always followed my heart and the Force.  But I didn't see that until it was too late, until I made the mistake of kissing him, telling him how I felt."

The sting of their aborted affair was something Qui-Gon had felt for a long, long time, and he supposed he always would feel it.  He was glad it was dark, for darkness hid a multitude of things, including pain.  Obion seemed content to let him sit in the dark, in the silence, though he did, to Qui-Gon's surprise, take his hand.

The ball was still going; they could hear the band play even halfway across the palace, but Qui-Gon didn't want to go back.  In fact, he wanted to simply stay where he was, in the dark, sitting next to a beautiful man who was everything he'd always wanted.

"There's an old tradition among the Sith," Obion said finally, softly.  "Cliadle says it was started about the same time as Mummer's Fete, and is based on it.  Two people, who think they're compatible, who believe they are falling in love, agree to 'Three Nights.'  Have you heard of it?"

Qui-Gon shook his head, then realized Obion might not have seen him do so in the darkness.  "No, I'm not familiar with it."

"It has pretty much died out, actually, so I'm not surprised."  Obion gently squeezed the hand he still held.  "The couple spends three nights together.  The first and second, they spend talking and sleeping together, getting to know each other.  There's an old saying: you only know a person well if you sleep with them."  Qui-Gon could hear Obion's smile in his words.  "I don't know, but it sounds logical.  At any rate, if, by the third night, they're still together, if they still want each other, they make love."  Qui-Gon could just see Obion wave his hand.  "It was started as a way to help a couple decide whether they could live together after marriage."

"It's an enchanting tradition," Qui-Gon murmured.  The path of their conversation was both terrifying and elating him.

"I'd like to claim Three Nights with you, Qui-Gon Jinn."  Obion's voice was very sure and very soft.  "Starting this night.  Will you?"

Sure his voice might have been, but Obion's hand in Qui-Gon's was clammy, and that, strangely, calmed Qui-Gon.  Because for the most part, Qui-Gon was paralyzed with indecision.  Would he like to spend three nights with a young man who made him feel weak in the knees, who could do or say anything to him, who made him feel like a teenager again?  Yes, of course he would, but was this the proper time?  There was trouble brewing, the Dark Force user and the Dhro (if they weren't the same being) were still out there, still threatening, capable of who-knew-what, and wasn't this not the time for distractions?  He couldn't afford to let his guard down, even for a moment, could he?  Could he?

"I..."  And then there was the whole mess of Obion being the heir.  What would the Empress say if she knew her eldest son was bedding a Jedi?  What would her ministers and her subjects think?  All those frantic and crazed questions, yammering in the back of his mind, and all Qui-Gon could do was to reach out and gently caress Obion's cheek, even while slamming the door to his fear, locking it away and out of sight.  "There is nothing I would like better," he whispered, and Obion smiled.

Even though the party was still in full swing, they decided not to return.  Instead, Obion brought Qui-Gon back to his own rooms and they sat together on his huge overstuffed sofa and traded secrets and kisses.  Qui-Gon discovered Obion was a very good kisser indeed, though he could still be taught a few things.  Obion discovered Qui-Gon's hands were one of his most potent erogenous zones, for when a finger was licked or sucked, Qui-Gon could barely keep from coming in his pants.

Then again, it might have just been because it was Obion doing the sucking and licking.

Obion fit perfectly against Qui-Gon's side, as though he had been made for that spot.  His red-gold hair kept flopping in his eyes and Qui-Gon took great pleasure in sweeping it back while they talked and kissed.  Obion talked about how it felt growing up royal, without a father but with a large, loving family.  Qui-Gon talked about how out of place he felt in the Jedi, how lonely he had been even when at 'home' in the Temple.  They both took comfort in the other, using their lips and tongues to claim territory and set up residence.

When Qui-Gon talked about his disastrous affair with Mace Windu, Obion's eyes darkened.  "I can't understand why he didn't love you," he murmured, tracing one of Qui-Gon's eyebrows with a gentle finger.  "Did you at least have sex?"

"No," Qui-Gon replied with a sigh.  "Not in the way I wanted.  I didn't want 'relief', as he called it, I could find that with my own hand, I didn't need another's.  I wanted to make love.  He did not."

"Are you a virgin?" Obion asked, blinking in shock.

Qui-Gon smiled sadly.  "No, but neither am I very experienced, Obi."  He looked down, hoping his face didn't look as red as it felt.  "I've only had two real lovers, and though I didn't actually love either of them, they were both caring men whom I did care for.  One of them helped me discover I was only attracted -- sexually, at any rate -- to males.  The other... the other taught me how good making love could feel."

"I've been attracted to both men and women," Obion mused.  "Women are lovely, all soft curves and sweet taste.  But I wondered, I wondered what it would be like to be with a man.  How different it would be."

"Men are stronger," Qui-Gon murmured.  "You can be rougher with a man than you can with a woman.  We understand the need for certain touches, what hurts and what doesn't, and what feels best of all."  He shook his head.  "I don't think I could be with a woman.  I would be afraid of hurting her."

Nodding, Obion said, "Yes, that's exactly it.  I'm always holding myself back when I make love to a woman.  I thought..."  His voice trailed off and he sighed.  "I thought Roberd could teach me the ways of love, man to man."

Shoving down his inappropriate anger at how Palpatine had treated Obion, Qui-Gon merely tightened his arms.  "Perhaps we could learn together," he whispered into Obion's hair.  

"I'd like that," Obion breathed back before lifting his head and kissing Qui-Gon again.

Qui-Gon woke the next morning feeling disoriented.  Still fully dressed from the evening before, except for his shoes, he was wrapped around Obion, who was also fully dressed, lying on top of the covers of Obion's bed.  A soft chiming sound came from the chrono next to them and sunlight filtered into the room through the windows.  Birds, in the garden outside the windows, were singing sweetly to welcome the dawn.

Obion took a deep breath and hummed a little, waking slowly.  Qui-Gon tightened his arms and kissed the back of Obion's head.  "Good morning, Obion."  His voice sounded raspy.

"Hmm... it wasn't a dream," Obion murmured.  "So glad it wasn't a dream."

Qui-Gon barely caught himself from saying something disgustingly sappy, like 'you're my dream', and settled instead for an answering hum.  He thought he could stay this way forever, if given the chance.

"We'd best get up," Obion said, sounding distinctly unhappy about the prospect.  "Breakfast is soon."

"Yes, and I'd better get back to my rooms and change."

"Um, no, you don't have to."  Obion's voice was both amused and incredulous, and Qui-Gon lifted his head to look down at him.

That's when he saw it: a complete set of Jedi tunics, folded neatly on the chair next to the door.  He froze in shock.  

"Qui-Gon?"

"Who...?"

"I think it might have been Galer, but I'm sure Maul put him up to it," Obion said in a small voice.  "I'm sorry."

"It's hardly your fault."  Not releasing Obion, Qui-Gon let his head thump back on the pillow.  "This is going to be hard to get used to."

"What is?"

Qui-Gon started chuckling.  "Having a family.  Having more than one person care for me.  Knowing that... knowing..."

"That we love you?"  Obion squirmed around until he was facing Qui-Gon.  The look on his face was at once impish and serious and sweetly happy.  "That I love you?"

All the oxygen in the room must have suddenly been sucked out, because that's the only reason Qui-Gon could think of why he suddenly couldn't draw a breath.  He wanted to say, it's too soon, you can't know that.  He wanted to say, are you sure, is it love?  Could this be love?  He wanted to say, you're too young, I'm too old, we shouldn't, it's not right.  He wanted to say...

"I love you."

Obion nodded slowly, staring at him with those intense, beautiful eyes.  "I know.  I think...  It's like we are...  I don't know... something.  Something strange, strange and beautiful.  I know it sounds ridiculous..."

"No, it doesn't, and I don't know either.  But you're right, there's something else happening, besides all the other things.  It's happening to us, specifically. Something huge.  I don't know whether to be worried or exhilarated."

"Or terrified."

"Or that.  Or all of them."  Qui-Gon smiled briefly, then ducked his head to kiss Obion gently.  "Perhaps this is something else we'll have to learn together."

"I can do that."

Qui-Gon thought he might be able to do it too.

They weren't the first to breakfast; oddly enough, Maisen had actually beaten them to it.  She was sitting on her mother's lap, excitedly talking about something when they entered together.  The Empress looked up as they entered, and her smile felt like the sun coming out from behind clouds.

"Here is Master Jinn, Mai, perhaps he's the one you should speak to about it."  She held out her hand and Qui-Gon took it, pressing it between his own.  

Obion walked to the other side of her chair, bent and kissed her cheek.  "Good morning, Mam," he murmured.

"Oh, my darling, good morning," she replied, her voice thick.  "It's so good to have my son back," she added, and though Qui-Gon wanted to ask her about that, Maisen was vying for his attention.

"Master Qui-Gon!  Master Qui-Gon, the Jedi children can do dances, they showed me, and I want to learn with them, can I?"

Qui-Gon sat in his usual chair and his lap was immediately claimed.  "What do you mean by dances, Maisen?" he asked her, one eye on her and the other on Obion, who was still speaking quietly with his mother.

"They do them all together, and they're really slow, except some of them are fast, and they can use lightsabers, did you know that?"

Ah, the beginning forms.  They would look like dances to someone not brought up in the Temple.  "Well, I..."

"There you are!  It was my turn to get you up, Mai. You should have waited for me."  Cliadle all but stomped into the room, shaking her finger at Maisen.

"I couldn't wait, Cli, I wanted to ask Mam and Master Qui-Gon about the dances!"

Cliadle put her hands on her hips.  "I've told you they're not dances, Mai, they're exercises, and you shouldn't bother Master Qui-Gon -- good morning, by the way -- and did you put clean underwear on like you were supposed to?"

"Mam!"  Anikin ran into the room, flushed and excited, carrying a model in one hand and a pair of trousers in the other.  "I finished my model, the one Padme gave me of the Nubian!  How do you get paint out of trous?  Nanny Brom doesn't know how."

Aliamon and Maul happened to walk into the room at the same time and were dumbfounded to find everyone -- even Maisen, who was on his lap -- staring at Qui-Gon, who was laughing loudly and helplessly, from sheer, simple joy.  Obion was the only one in the room who seemed to understand, but his shy, happy smile told no tales.

"The civil war on Coruscant appears to have been ended by the Dhro's forces," Mace Windu said.  He was sitting on one side of the large conference table, across from Qui-Gon, and his briefing seemed to be nearing its end.  "There appears to have been a significant loss of life in the pacification, and the Jedi we have in the area report dozens of refugee ships heading towards the Corellian system.  We are expecting them to begin arrival within days.  The ship with the royal house of Alderaan has also been located.  They had to make a large detour to avoid the conflict on Coruscant, but they will be here within the next day or two."

Qui-Gon sat next to Obion, who sat next to his mother at the front of the table.  Maul stood behind the Empress, his arms crossed, his face impassive.  By contrast, Windu's expression of frozen disapproval seemed almost artificial.

Through what was possibly unconscious planning, the Jedi sat at the Empress' left hand, while her own ministers -- Queen Amidala and Finis Valorum among them -- sat on her right.  Peace was maintained completely through the iron will of the Empress -- no one wanted to risk her censure.  Qui-Gon was the only Jedi on the Sith side of the table, but he was finding himself more at home with the Sith anyway.

And he did not want to think about that, not at all.

"The Empire thanks Councilor Windu for his report," the Empress said.  "Is there any word on the man who calls himself 'the mouth of the Dhro'?  Has he approached the Jedi?"

"No, he hasn't, and there is no further information on that."

Windu stopped there and the other members from the Council looked at him curiously.  Finally, Plo Koon spoke into the silence, his mild voice at odds with his fierce and masked countenance.  "We will, of course, keep the Empire appraised of anything new."  Windu glowered at him briefly before turning back to glare at Qui-Gon.  "We also extend our deepest thanks to your Exalted Majesty for offering to shelter our children.  Should there be any move on the Dhro's part against Selonia, we are grateful for the fact we will not have to work to shelter those among us who need the most care."

"The Empire needs no thanks, though thanks are welcome; our children are as precious to us as yours are to you.  We are pleased to help, revered Jedi."  The Empress smiled at Plo, who bowed from his seat.  Qui-Gon wondered if he was the only one in the room to note the Empress had not called Windu 'revered Jedi' even once.  "We do hope you are not putting Jedi at great risk in getting further information.  Even though our treaty is not completed or ratified, the Empire wants the Jedi to know: we will protect you, not just your children, if at all possible in the times to come."

That caused a murmur at the table, mostly from the Jedi.  Plo glanced at Windu, then shook his head when Mace stayed silent.  Qui-Gon bet that behind his mask, his eyes were rolling.  "On behalf of my fellow Jedi, I thank you for your most thoughtful offer, Exalted Majesty."

"You should be thanking your Master Jinn, revered Jedi.  He has been tireless in his efforts to get the treaty finalized and ratified."  Tireless?  Well, possibly; though the Empress had been known to use hyperbole in the past.  "In fact, Master Jinn has been of such great help to us that we would like to propose a slight amendment to the treaty."  Qui-Gon frowned.  He had no idea what she was up to but he didn't trust it -- one thing he had learned well about the Empress was that she had an extremely dry and sometimes dangerous sense of humor.  "As you all know, our First Minister, Roberd Palpatine, is... ill.  He is no longer able to fulfill his duties to the throne and scepter, and as such, it creates a void in our ministry staff.  It would give us great pleasure to appoint revered Jedi Master Jinn as our First Minister, serving the Empire's royal house of Wan, thus cementing the rejoining of our two peoples."

If Qui-Gon's jaw had been capable of it, it would have hit the floor.  Obion, sitting next to Qui-Gon, kept his eyes on the table before him but a very faint smirk made Qui-Gon certain his Highness knew all about this little surprise.  The little rat.

The Jedi were obviously as surprised as Qui-Gon; they muttered between themselves, shooting glances at Qui-Gon.  The only one who looked completely put-out by the idea was Mace Windu, which wasn't a surprise.  "There is no precedent for this," Windu snapped, but before he could add more, Obion overruled him.

"On the contrary."  Obion's voice was mild and calm but Qui-Gon could feel the leashed anger within him. It made Qui-Gon feel oddly grateful.  "Ulic Qel-Droma, a revered Jedi Master of some repute, I believe, became the First Minister of Nomi Sunrider, the first Sith Empress of the Wan dynasty, shortly after the Sith-Jedi War."

Windu didn't seem able to recognize a superior force when he met it, and he was setting himself up for a fall -- one that Qui-Gon would enjoy watching.  "That is irrelevant, since, in the first place, it happened millennia ago, and in the second, once Qel-Droma married a Sith, he ceased to be a Jedi."  Hazarding a glance at the Empress, Qui-Gon found her doing her best utterly blank face, letting Obion draw first blood in this skirmish.

"Something I'm sure pleased him no end," Obion murmured, and Qui-Gon found he couldn't look at anyone, not and keep a straight face.  

Plo was actually laughing, though he disguised it.  Having to wear a facemask helped, but Qui-Gon knew him too well.  "I don't believe this is a good time or place to discuss such an amendment," he said, carefully not looking at either Qui-Gon or Mace Windu.  Obion nodded, relinquishing the point.  "At any rate, it would have to be something left, in large part, to Qui-Gon Jinn.  Perhaps after the Fete, before we leave, we can meet with you, Master Jinn, and discuss this generous proposal in further depth."

Qui-Gon would rather be dipped in honey and dragged over a nest of Selonian mud-wasps than meet with the Council members, but he just bowed in acquiescence.  They were, after all, his superiors.  For now.

There was little else to say; General Skora had a report on the readiness of the troops and the building schedule of the new fighter ships, and Obion made another veiled plea to begin recruiting extra troops in the palace, one that his mother rejected (as she had been doing since Maul and Obion began proposing it, several weeks before).  Maul must have received a summons, for at one point he glanced down at his belt, bent and whispered something into the Empress' ear and left.  

The Empress ended the meeting shortly after that.  As they were standing and shuffling datapads and crystals about, she said something softly to Obion, who blinked and hurried out.  After nodding to everyone still in the room, the Empress swept out, followed by her personal guard.  Qui-Gon recognized Captain Sarin in the lead.  

Before Qui-Gon could leave, Plo called his name.  Windu stalked out, insolently brushing against Qui-Gon as he left, and Qui-Gon rolled his eyes.  Plo watched Windu and the other Councilors leave, shaking his head.  When they were alone, he said, "Very well, I believe you."

Qui-Gon blinked.  "You do?  Why?  What...?"

"Mace Windu.  His behavior is not typical for him at all."  Plo shot a glance at the open door and sighed.  "He's never been fond of you, Qui-Gon, but his dislike has always been tempered by professionalism.  Now, though, his anger levels are out of control and he is making no move towards releasing them.  This is not normal, Qui-Gon."

"He does seem a bit more angry than I would have expected."  Qui-Gon frowned as he looked down the corridor.  "But why him?  Why increase his antipathy?  To what end?"

"I've been doing some reading, Qui-Gon, in fact, I began before we even left Selonia, right after you shared your data with us on the situation."  Plo folded his arms into the sleeves of his robe.  "Perhaps I could speak with you somewhere more private, with those we met with yesterday."

Only mildly surprised that Maul's paranoia had rubbed off, Qui-Gon nodded.  "I'll arrange it and send for you."

They bowed to each other and went their separate ways.

While Qui-Gon had meant to arrange that meeting immediately, events conspired against him.  The reason Maul and Obion had been called from the meeting was that the ship bearing most of the house Organa was in-system, and by the time Qui-Gon found out about it, the ship had landed.

He knew the prince, Bail Organa, quite well, having worked with him and his father in the past.  He had expected to see Bail, his three sisters, and their mother; but as it turned out, their mother had remained on Alderaan with her husband.  Their status was uncertain, though Qui-Gon feared the worst: nothing was getting out of Alderaan any longer, people or news.

The Empress and the Heir also knew the Organa family.  Qui-Gon arrived at the palace's ship port -- the Organas had a far smaller ship than Queen Amidala, and that meant they could land much closer to the palace --  in time to see Obion draw Bail into a tight embrace.  A flash of jealousy left him surprised and irritated: surprised he would feel it and irritated he felt it in the first place.  When the two young men broke their embrace, he could see Bail clearly, and felt a twist of sympathy go through him.  Bail looked terrible, his face was pale and his eyes ringed with bruises.

Bail greeted Qui-Gon with a blink of surprise.  "Qui-Gon?  Great stars, what are you doing here?"

Qui-Gon smiled and took the proffered hand, drawing Bail in for a hug.  "Didn't you get the memo?  The Jedi and the Sith are no longer enemies."

Chuckling weakly, Bail leaned on him and Qui-Gon thought he must be near physical exhaustion.  His sisters didn't look much better; all of them looked ready to find a bed to collapse on.

The Empress must have seen that too.  "You all must be exhausted."  She had her arm around the youngest of Bail's sisters, Melyta, whose face was white and pinched.  "We've put you in the south wing again, Bail, dear.  There's plenty of room for all of you."

Between getting everyone settled, getting a preliminary report from Bail on the state of the Dhro's forces and helping to see to it he was fed and rested; between handing out treats to every child in the palace who demanded one (Bellen had warned him he'd need his sack of treats, and she had been right) and introducing Maisen and then Cliadle to the Master of Initiates and giving his approval for the two girls to watch and participate in the initiates' training; between endless reports and new demands and concessions on the Jedi-Sith treaty; between his surprise at finding another new set of clothing for him for the Second Night party and Obion suddenly dashing up to him in the hallway, grabbing and yanking him out of the hall into a janitor's closet and then kissing him senseless; between all those things, Qui-Gon didn't have time to even think about his Jedi superiors or the new request by the Empress.  He'd wanted to, but he allowed it to be put off until the next morning, when he'd meet with the Empress and Maul anyway.

After all, there was still plenty of time.

After Obion had pulled him into that janitor's closet (a closet of all things!) and kissed him, he told Qui-Gon their daily session would have to wait.  "I've got a meeting with Maul and Dem Skora on the information Bail brought us," he had explained, breathlessly.  Then he kissed Qui-Gon again.

Qui-Gon let it go on for probably longer than he should have, but it was nearly impossible to break the kiss, to end the sweetness.  When they finally did break away, he was certain he looked much as Obion did -- high color, dazed eyes, kiss-bruised lips and mussed clothing.  "We can pick it up tomorrow," he murmured, risking another kiss.  "I need to find the right-sized staves and get other things ready for our next session anyway."  His mouth seemed to be drawn inexorably to Obion's.

When Obion broke that one, he looked endearingly confused.  "Staves?"

"To train you how to fight with a 'saber.  You didn't think we start out with the real thing, did you?"

Obion's smile was brighter than the sun.  He opened his mouth to speak but Qui-Gon kissed him again before he could.  "And if you say 'that's wizard,' I'm likely to do something rash," Qui-Gon murmured, kissing his way along Obion's jaw line to his ear, which he bit lightly.

"Oh!  Do that again..."  Obion's breathing was getting much heavier -- time to get them out of the closet and back to their duty.

"If I do, we're going to end up very uncomfortable," Qui-Gon said, forcing his body to pull away from Obion's.  It was difficult to do so, not the least because of their close quarters.  

Taking a deep breath, Obion also stepped away.  "You're right, I have to go.  Be my partner at the party tonight?"

"Try to stop me," Qui-Gon said with a smile.  

How had he ever gotten so lucky as to earn the love of that man?

The Mummer's Fete Second Night parties were for children of all ages but mostly Anikin's age and younger.  They were able to demand a treat from any adult they chose during the day, and at night those treats were burned off by dancing and performing.  The Sith also had a tradition of putting on sweet, silly and highly amateur pageants, and scandalous stories about past ones, involving Obion, Aliamon and Cliadle, were traded freely.  It was a different band than the night before but the same ballroom, and the Jedi Council still sat in one corner, disassociating themselves from all the revelry, obviously present only due to protocol.  

Much to Qui-Gon's surprise, the Jedi children were planning to put on a show, and Maisen was nearly beside herself with excitement over it.  The Empress was impressed at Maisen's sudden desire to be like a Jedi, and readily agreed to the exhibition.  Maisen sat in the front row and cheered loudly as the initiates did forms, sparred and did tumbling routines which, for them, were nothing special.  They positively glowed at the praise and applause from the audience.

While 'Queen Amidala' wasn't there, Padme Naberrie was, and she and Cliadle were coaxed to the stage to sing an extremely silly duet, something about sisters who shared everything.  Obion managed to persuade Aliamon to share the stage with him, and they sang a beautiful love song, about loving until one's dying day.  Obion stared at Qui-Gon the entire time, and Qui-Gon couldn't take his eyes off the stage or the beautiful man on it.  He'd had no idea Obion could sing so well.

Once the entertainment was over, the dancing began, and Obion grabbed Qui-Gon immediately.  "Tonight will go better than last night," he said as Qui-Gon snuggled him tightly and they twirled around the floor.  

"In more ways than one," Qui-Gon replied, and Obion laughed.

It was an extremely pleasant evening.  Qui-Gon managed to get a furiously blushing Terrell dancing with Aliamon and was surprised to see Bruck Chun dancing with Siri.  The Empress claimed him for one of the slower dances, and made clear to him her happiness in his seeing Obion.  He was definitely going to have to get used to having a family who knew everything about his love life.

He was definitely going to have to get used to having a family, let alone a love life, but the latter part would be easy, he suspected.

They stayed and danced until long after the children had been taken to bed, until the Empress herself had left.  The band obligingly played slow, lovely waltzes for them, and though Qui-Gon was certain they made a very disgustingly sappy couple on the dance floor, he also didn't care.  He was holding his lover in his arms, and it felt wonderful.

By some unspoken agreement, when they left the party, they went back to Obion's rooms.  This time, they left the sofa and went directly to the bedroom, turning on only enough light to see by.  Sitting together on the bed, they took turns kissing and undressing each other until they were down to their underclothes, then crawled under the covers, touching and kissing, whispering words of praise and discovery.  It didn't take long for them to find a comfortable position: Qui-Gon holding Obion and Obion with his head over Qui-Gon's heart, and they settled into it, relaxing into the plush mattress.

"I still can't believe this is real," Qui-Gon breathed into Obion's hair.  He was achingly aroused and treasured it, reveled in it, savored the feeling with the knowledge that it would be released, eventually, but it didn't have to be done now.  He was free to feel it, free to enjoy it and that freedom felt greater than anything he had ever known.

Obion was gently tracing the outline of his chest muscles with one finger.  "I've been thinking, today, whenever I had a chance," he said, his voice very soft.  "The feeling we both had, yesterday, that something else was going on... I felt it even more today.  Did you?"

"Yes, I did.  Especially when you pushed me into that broom closet."

Chuckling, Obion teasingly scraped his fingernail lightly over Qui-Gon's nipple.  Qui-Gon couldn't prevent his gasp and slight arch at the exquisite sensation that engendered, and Obion lifted his head and gave Qui-Gon a speculative look.  "Leaving that aside for the moment," he said with a sardonic lift of one eyebrow that told Qui-Gon he was in serious trouble, "what I meant to say was that I think, maybe, I know what's going on.  With us, I mean."

"Yes?"  Qui-Gon had come to his own conclusions, and was interested in knowing if they meshed Obion's.  

Obion started slowly.  "All my life, I've felt the Force.  I didn't know what to call it until I started growing up and reading about the Sith, the Jedi, the Force and all that."  He was back to gentle touches and Qui-Gon's skin felt sensitized by them.  "Since you've been teaching me, I think I understand it much better, know how it works and maybe why.  As much as anyone can, I suppose."

It sounded to Qui-Gon that Obion's conclusions were much the same as his.  He made a non-committal noise, encouraging Obion to keep talking.

"In the archives, there are letters on parchment between Nomi Sunrider and Ulic Qel-Droma -- they're considered one of the heirlooms of the House.  We've all read them, or rather, read facsimiles of them.  In each one, they talk about the Force, and how the Force was pulling them together, was adding to their pleasure when they were together, and making them feel almost sick when they had to be apart.  I think maybe the Force is doing that to us as well."  He snorted.  "Which really isn't all that good a thing, I'm thinking.  After all, look what happened to them."

"They didn't quite have the 'happily ever after' they deserved, did they?" Qui-Gon murmured, squeezing Obion gently.  "But they were happy, and had years, decades, together."  Obion nodded.  "In the Temple, we're taught there is no death, there is the Force.  I'd like to believe Sunrider and Qel-Droma are together in the Force, even now.  Their spirits were so fiery, I cannot imagine they are not."

"So you agree with me?"

"I'm afraid I do."  They both sighed.  "While I do not like the idea of being the Force's plaything, I cannot fault it that much -- it gave me you.  Just when I was beginning to despair, it gave me you."

They were silent for a long time.  "I'm going to be Emperor some day," Obion murmured.  His breath felt warm and moist on Qui-Gon's skin.  "I'll have to sire at least one child, to continue the line, and I'll be expected to be almost more than human with my subjects, just as Mother is."  

"I know."

"It scares me at times," Obion whispered, and Qui-Gon tightened the arm he had around the future emperor.  

They were deeply asleep when there was a gentle tap on the door.  "Highness?"

Qui-Gon fought for consciousness -- something unusual for him, he was used to waking completely suddenly, no matter how deeply asleep he was -- as he heard Obion's groggy voice.  "Galer?"

"Highness, it's Maul, sir.  He needs to speak with you now, in person, he said, and the revered Jedi too."  Galer sounded nearly as sleepy as Obion and Qui-Gon, but there was a note of fear underlying his voice.  

Coughing a little, probably to clear his throat, Obion took a deep breath.  "Right, we'll be right there.  Galer, can you let him know?"

"Yes, sir, I can.  Sorry about waking you, sir."

"S'alright, Galer."  

Qui-Gon heard the page move away from the door as Obion sat up, scrubbing his hands through his hair until it stood up in little tufts.  He yawned hugely.  "I have a bad feeling about this," he muttered.

"No argument."  Qui-Gon couldn't help ogling a little as Obion got out of bed, though he laughed at himself for it.  With a sigh, he realized he'd forgotten to bring his Jedi clothing, and would have to go to this surprise meeting in his party clothing.

Before he got out of bed, however, Obion pinned him for one last kiss, a promise and a taste of things to come.  Literally.  Qui-Gon felt much lighter as he dressed in his wrinkled clothes.

The lightness only lasted as far as the door to the garden.  Maul met them there, and the Empress was already seated on her bench.  Through the shield, false dawn was just spreading; there was a small electric torch on the ground next to the bench, giving just enough light to see.

"Roberd Palpatine has been murdered."

Yes, it was bad.

Qui-Gon sank down on the bench next to the Empress and blinked at Maul.  "When?  How?"

"'When' was some time this evening."  Maul was already pacing.  Obion stood behind the bench and leaned on it.  "'How' -- well, he was beheaded.  With a lightsaber."

"Oh, Force."  Qui-Gon swallowed hard.  Obion put his hand on Qui-Gon's shoulder, squeezing gently.  "I thought he was still in custody?"

"I thought so as well," the Empress said.  Her voice was as cold as the air around them.

"He was.  He was in a holding cell in the dungeon, and Dr. Pfelling was tending to him, since he still hadn't regained consciousness."  Maul sounded intensely frustrated.  "I had my best on his guard detail, 'round the clock, and they noticed nothing.  Nothing!  Until the guard was changed, at which time the new guards noticed they were guarding a corpse.  The electronic surveillance was disabled, for over an hour, not that anyone noticed, so I can't even look to that."

Maul paced, Obion leaned, Qui-Gon and the Empress sat still; all of them in shock.  More than ever this pointed to a Dark Force user in the palace, someone who could control many minds at once, someone who knew the palace and its denizens well.  With a start, Qui-Gon recalled his conversation with Plo Koon.  "We need to get Plo here, at once," he said.

Maul stopped pacing long enough to turn to him.  "Why?"

"He was speaking to me earlier, I mean, yesterday, right before the Organas arrived.  He said he'd been doing some reading and was now in agreement there was a Dark Force user in the palace, somewhere."

With a downward jerk of his head, Maul strode to the entrance and asked the guard on duty to fetch the Councilor.  The Empress turned to Qui-Gon.  "Did he say why?"

"Something about Mace Windu's extreme emotions being atypical."  Obion squeezed his shoulder again and Qui-Gon patted his hand.  "If Palpatine was killed by a 'saber, then whoever did it is trying to set up either me or the Jedi for his death."

Maul returned in time to hear that.  "Save that you have an excellent alibi,"  he raised his eyebrow over Qui-Gon's shoulder, "and I have security on the other Jedi, watching them."

"I thought we'd agreed not to do that, Maul," the Empress said.

Shrugging, Maul shook his head.  "Punish me for it later, Adi.  Right now, I just want to find out how I can fight an enemy I cannot see or hear.  One who can control my men, one who can control everything about the palace."

None of them wanted to address that particular issue, so they waited, in silence, for Plo Koon.  The whole situation was frightening in the extreme, and Qui-Gon couldn't help but wonder: he'd told the Council once that 'it' -- the Dhro, the invasion, whatever you wanted to call it -- would end at Corellia, one way or another.  Now he was wondering, what was the other way?  What more could happen?

Qui-Gon rose and offered his seat to Plo, apologizing for the hour.  "It's nothing, Qui-Gon," Plo replied.  "I was up and ready to meditate when summoned."  He glanced around at the people assembled.  "I take it this is about what we discussed yesterday?"

"Yes."  Qui-Gon glanced at Maul, then at the Empress; both nodded.  "The man who was injured the other day, the one whose aura was compromised?  He was murdered last night, in a locked cell, with guards who saw nothing, cameras that recorded nothing.  He was beheaded by a lightsaber."

"Are you certain?" Plo looked up at Maul, who nodded.

"The wound was completely cauterized.  There was no sign of a struggle, though the bed -- on which we found him -- was not burned."

"He was standing, then, when it was done."  The Empress' voice was bleak.  "He knew what was coming."

"Perhaps."  Plo's voice was mild but Qui-Gon could feel the curiosity he was projecting.  "Standing or sitting, yes, but knew what was coming?  Perhaps not."  He paused and looked down.  The dawn was becoming brighter as they sat together.  "When Qui-Gon sent us his datacrystals detailing the problem with his Highness, I started to do some research.  A few dozen years ago I remembered reading something in our library that piqued my interest in the Jedi-Sith war.  It took me some time, but I did find the reference.  And while here, thanks to the gracious largesse of your Exalted Majesty," Plo nodded to the Empress who smiled and nodded back, "I was able to confirm it with books and data housed here, in the Empire."  

Adept at prolonging suspense, Plo sometimes drove his friends insane with the talent.  While Qui-Gon wanted to grab his robes, shake him and demand he talk, he managed to stay in control until Plo began again.

"Exar Kun and Freedon Nadd had the highest midi-chlorian counts ever recorded.  Their grasp of the Force, both Light and Dark, was incredible.  They were able to take control of dozens of people at once, and to maintain control with seeming ease, over parsecs' worth of distance.  What's more, these people did not know they were under control, and further, even after that control left them, they didn't realize they had been suborned.  They refused to believe it.  That was probably the most fear-inducing of all their powers."

"They never knew?  Not ever?"  Obion's voice was incredulous and pain-filled and echoed Qui-Gon's thoughts.  He could remember Obion shouting at Maul that it wasn't rape.  This was not going well.

"Never.  They were told, they could be convinced, but objectively they never had any doubt their actions were their own."  Plo shook his head.  "However, that's not really the most frightening thing about those two.  How they were overcome, how the war they induced was won, has passed into legend, both here and in the Temple.  The actual facts of the story, I have been discovering, are quite different.  For example, we've been taught Nomi Sunrider was immune to their coercion.  That is not true.  Nor was Qel-Droma immune.  More telling is this fact, which I never knew... while we know what happened to Freedon Nadd, Exar Kun's body was never recovered."

Time stopped.

Qui-Gon only remembered to breathe when spots started dancing in front of his eyes.  He gasped then, and the world wobbled beneath his feet.  Obion slowly walked around the bench and pushed himself into Qui-Gon's side, and Maul knelt near the Empress, taking one of her hands.

"He couldn't be," the Empress whispered.  "Even in carbon-freeze, no one can be held in stasis that long and survive.  It's impossible."

"The Dhro is using cloned forces," Plo said gently.  "And no, it is highly unlikely that Kun has been kept alive this long, but that's hardly necessary, isn't it?  All someone would need is a bit of his DNA, a small piece of him that could indeed have been kept viable for millennia.  He wouldn't be trained, but in essence, he would be Exar Kun."

Qui-Gon became aware of a fine trembling in his limbs, and realized Obion was reacting much the same.  The Empress' face was completely white, and she had a death grip on Maul's hand.  "Mace told me Freedon Nadd is a name to scare children into behaving," Qui-Gon choked out.  Obion's arm around his middle tightened.  "I would never in a million years have contemplated this, never guessed, not once..."

"We don't know this is true, Qui-Gon," Plo said.  "I would like to do more research, both here and at the Temple.  Your library, Great Lady, is formidable and exhaustive.  You fill the gaps the Temple has, quite well."  He sighed.  "The one good thing here is my instincts tell me whoever the Dark Force user is, he or she is not as powerful as either Kun or Nadd.  Even if the person is a clone of Kun, we must remember what I said earlier: he will not be properly trained, not as well as the original Kun was.  Kun had training as a Jedi, before falling to the Dark; this person would have to rely on other methods.  The power would be raw and not necessarily directed, and that may be our saving grace.  What part the Dhro plays in all this I have no idea, he may be the Dark Force user, and the one here in the palace merely his apprentice.  We will have to wait, be patient, and study as much as we can, to prepare for the worst."

The Empress swallowed.  "Revered Jedi, you are welcome here in our house for as long as the sun shines on Corellia," she said.  "If you wish to stay after your brethren have returned, the Empire would be pleased to host you."

Plo bowed deeply from his seated position.  "I thank you, Great Lady.  I must defer to those in the Council of the Jedi, but regardless, I will be spending the remainder of the holiday happily ensconced in your archives."  He stood and tucked his hands into his sleeves.  "I should be starting now, actually.  If I could trouble you for an escort?"

He looked at Maul, who nodded.  "Let me find someone to do so, revered Jedi."

When Maul returned from his brief errand, no one had moved.  He sat with a sigh next to the Empress, who actually leaned into him.  "Maul."  Her voice was tiny and soft.  "I am frightened."

"I will protect you, da'mrow," Maul murmured, taking her hand again.

She looked at him, and whatever he saw in her eyes must have affected him deeply.  He tugged her hand to his chest and wrapped his free arm around her shoulders, gently pulling her towards him enough he was able to touch her forehead with his.  "But who will protect you?" she asked, her voice thick, and a cold chill darted up Qui-Gon's spine.

On to chapter eight...