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PART 51

Obi-Wan blinked open his eyes, groaning as the light of day hit him. His head throbbed dully and his bones seemed to ache; residue no doubt of a fever. Certainly that would explain the restless, elusive dreams that had haunted his night. He felt as weak as a kitten-- victim of his own stubborn insistence he return to his own cell. But having woken up, naked, in the prince's arms, he'd felt the need to re-establish some boundaries. Not only for the prince's sake.

The prince had gone along with his requests with surprising grace. Perhaps the man was finally changing-- he at least was making an effort. Obi-Wan knew that he would be returning with the prince regardless of whether the change was sincere or not. His place was at the prince's side until he was no longer needed, and he didn't need to meditate on the situation to know that he still was.

Some perverse instinct had insisted that he wait to tell the prince of his decision. Let Qui-Gon sweat and worry what his answer would be; the man had been denied nothing his entire life, and indulgence had many detrimental effects. At the same time, he felt as though he were being less than honest, betraying his upbringing and the codes he had lived by all his life.

Obi-Wan sighed, tugging at his braid and wondering if he were still worthy to wear it. Probably, or Pater Mundi would have had it shorn from him.

He stirred, thirsty, and was startled at movement from across the room... Anakin. Qui-Gon's son jumped up out of the cell's single straight chair.

"You're awake!" Anakin chirped, obviously pleased. "You were asleep when I got here last night. You want something to eat, maybe some water?"

Obi-Wan nodded and Anakin poked his head out the door, calling to someone for breakfast to be sent. The lad's exuberant energy made Obi-Wan feel sluggish by comparison, but he was glad of the boy's presence.

Within minutes, there was cool fresh water for him to drink, and Anakin helped him sit up so he could swallow it without spilling. It hit the parched tissues of his throat like a blessing, trickling sweetly into his belly. "Not too much. I drank too much once when I was hot, and I got sick." Anakin took the glass and pulled the chair up next to Obi- Wan's bed. "My father said you nearly died."

Obi-Wan cleared his throat, trying to keep up with the boy's chatter. "Thank you," he said, "and yes, I nearly died." He shifted until he was sitting back against the wall, the cool stone a balm against his still overheated skin.

"Why were you out there?" Anakin asked him, bright blue eyes looking at him guilelessly.

"It's a little hard to explain," began Obi-Wan.

"Father said something about pena...penants?"

"Penance. Yes, well. Right."

"I heard a couple of the monks talking in the library and they said that whatever you'd done it must have been pretty bad if you went out into the snow to do the penance. Is that true? Did you do something bad?" The boy sounded as if he couldn't quite believe it were possible and Obi-Wan smiled softly.

"There are a lot of rules," he explained slowly, "and promises that we make when we get here and I came very close to breaking those promises."

"If you did break 'em would they make you leave?"

Obi-Wan shook his head. "They wouldn't have to. If I broke my vows I would leave of my own accord."

"Oh." Anakin watched him for a moment or two and then announced, "I like it here."

It was a common enough reaction; many children seemed to think the notion of becoming a monk was a romantic one. "Why?" Obi-Wan questioned calmly.

"I like the novitiates."

Obi-Wan tilted his head, waiting for more. Anakin gave him another few sips of water before continuing, obviously thinking about his answer. "I told my father I liked them because they didn't treat me differently because I'm his son. It didn't make him happy."

Obi-Wan nodded gravely. "As children, we are trained not to distinguish between persons by rank, but rather by their character and strength."

Anakin nodded enthusiastically. "I like that. They're not afraid of me, and they don't try to be extra nice because they want something."

"It is a good reason to like it here, but not an adequate reason to stay. Do you have more reasons?"

"Well, I've seen you fight. You're the only person I know who can beat my father. Well, except for that man who cut him on Valorum's estate. But you beat him." Anakin looked shy. "I'd like to learn to fight like you."

"Many of the monks here fight well, it is true. But that is not the only reason we exist." They paused as a brother brought a tray filled with porridge to the room and left it. Anakin seasoned it with cinnamon, sweet butter, and dried fruits, and helped Obi-Wan begin to eat, a spoonful at a time.

"Yeah. You keep records and histories, and study politics... the same kinds of stuff I do with my tutor, I guess, but somehow..." Anakin sneaked a bite of Obi-Wan's porridge, then wiped his chin. "It's more fun here. I don't like my tutor much. Beru's nice, but she treats me different, too. Here, if I don't learn, I don't just get a talking to. I have to do stuff to make up for it."

"Like penance." Obi-Wan smiled faintly.

"I like doing stuff." Anakin sounded a little defensive. "I can't take care of horses or fix stuff at the castle, because I'm 'the little prince' and 'it isn't seemly' and things like that."

"So you don't want to be a monk," Obi-Wan observed thoughtfully. "You'd just like to stay here, and learn what we have to teach you?"

"I guess so. I mean if I wanted to be a monk, I would know, right? I'd have a ..."

"Calling," Obi-Wan supplied.

"Yeah, that's what Brother Mandrell called it."

"You've spoken to someone about this already?" Obi-Wan wondered if Qui-Gon knew and what the prince had said about it.

"I was just asking stuff." The boy's shoulders hunched and he pouted. Obi-Wan was reminded of the prince -he'd seen the exact same expression on Qui-Gon's face on more than one occasion. "Some of the kids in my classes aren't going to be monks, they just come here to learn." Anakin was looking up at him again. "But I don't think my father would let me do that -he's in a pretty big hurry to leave and I don't think he likes it here much."

"Have you asked him?" Obi-Wan could well imagine the prince's reaction to such a question from his only son and heir.

"Not exactly, but he still said no. I was hoping..."

"Yes, Anakin?"

"I was hoping you could talk to him, tell him I'd be safe and make him understand that it would be a good thing."

"What makes you think I have that kind of influence with your father?"

"Because he listens to you." The boy was perched on the edge of his seat now, waving around an oatmeal filled spoon earnestly.

Obi-Wan shook his head. "About matters relating to his own safety and with great reluctance. This would be another matter entirely."

"You could tell him you won't go back with him unless I get to stay."

"Anakin."

"Well, I'm just saying that because he does listen to you, and he wants you around." The boy had the good grace to look ashamed.

"I will speak to Prince Qui-Gon, and further, if he permits, I will sponsor your presence here." Obi-Wan looked longingly at the spoonful of cooling oatmeal. "Now, may we finish breakfast?"

"Oops! Sorry." Sheepishly, Anakin resumed feeding Obi-Wan. "Thanks for agreeing to talk to him," he finished shyly. "Sometimes he can be kind of hard to get through to."

"I know precisely what you mean." Obi-Wan nodded, already planning the strategy for his attempt.

PART 52

Obi-Wan's breakfast did a great deal to revitalize him, and he felt well enough to read a scroll as he lay there. Anakin had apparently kept watch most of the night, so Obi- Wan gave the tired lad a blanket and he curled up on the floor at the foot of Obi-Wan's cot. He was snoring within minutes, and Obi-Wan smiled at the soft sound, adjusting his scroll. He had just become absorbed with the matriarchal ruling practices of the Kashyyk Collective on the southern continent when a soft tap sounded at his door.

"Come in," Obi-Wan called, equally softly, hoping not to disturb Anakin. Perhaps it was the prince, come to check on him-- but no, his spirits wavered guiltily when he realized his guest's identity.

"Master Lucas," he breathed, shame suffusing his cheeks with red.

Worn hands with thick fingers callused from holding a quill lifted to push back the coarse-woven brown hood of his cloak. "Obi-Wan." His mild voice sounded fond, not disappointed at all. "I'm glad you returned to visit us."

Obi-Wan nodded, shamefaced. His mentor looked just the same; a little pudgy from sitting long hours in his cell writing and copying scrolls, with his curling salt-and- pepper hair and short beard, he seemed ageless. Perhaps his squint was a little more pronounced; he never let long hours or poor light stop him in his work, and frequently needed to visit the healers to have eyestrain reduced.

"I..." Obi-Wan's shame grew as he realized he hadn't even consulted his master before setting out to brave penance on the mountain. "I should have come to you sooner."

"I admit I was a little disappointed, though I can't say I was surprised." Brother Lucas sat in the chair Anakin had vacated and patted Obi-Wan's hand. "You always did expect perfection from yourself, my boy."

"I'm afraid it's a little more than not being perfect this time, Master. I nearly broke my vows." Obi-Wan felt the weight of his burdens lift as he shared them with his mentor and teacher and realized that he should indeed have visited the monk first.

"Failure is failure, Obi-Wan, whether you feel a pinch of envy or break one of your vows."

"Surely one is a bigger failure than the other?"

"I would say it is more a case of it being harder to recover from the one than the other. Our actions shape us, as do our feelings and desires."

Obi-Wan felt his face flame again. "I have desires," he admitted softly. "Inappropriate feelings as well."

"For the prince?"

Obi-Wan nodded.

"I understand that he is a very handsome and compelling man."

"And arrogant, and stubborn, and far too used to getting his own way."

"And yet you care for him still?"

Obi-Wan hung his head. "Yes, Master."

"Obi-Wan...." He looked up when his mentor didn't continue. It looked as if Master Lucas were struggling with something; several times he opened his mouth as if to speak and then closed it again. Finally the monk laid his hand on Obi-Wan's chest. "You must follow your heart, Obi- Wan. You must listen carefully, for it is far quieter than the pull of your body or the call of our teachings, but in the end it is only your heart that will lead you to your true path."

Obi-Wan struggled with the words, engraving them on his mind-- especially when they were painful or difficult, his master's teachings always proved fruitful. "Thank you, Master." Obi-Wan bowed his head.

"Whatever path you choose, I have faith that you will excel upon it," Lucas continued softly. "You have always pushed yourself to the limit of your abilities, and beyond. You will not stop that simply because you no longer have my guidance."

"Master..." Obi-Wan hesitated, fidgeting with a fold of sheet. "I may never become a Jedi Knight."

"If that is your destiny, then you must embrace it." Lucas responded quietly. "Use it wisely and well and don't let fate destroy you."

"But you have spent so much time and work in training me..."

"I have spent time and work in helping to make you a fine young man, whether he be padawan monk, Jedi Knight, or bodyguard and even courtesan," Lucas pointed out dryly. "Your knowledge and skills mean no less, should you continue to use them. The true failure lies in abandoning them out of guilt or a misplaced need to punish yourself for following what you want, not what others expect of you."

Obi-Wan blinked, startled. "But Master--"

"Don't take that tone with me, young man." Lucas folded his arms impatiently.

"You speak that word so easily... courtesan." Obi-Wan's voice fell to a shocked whisper. "Have you foreseen that is my destiny?"

"I have not." Lucas answered sharply. "But if I had, it would hardly matter. It is your destiny, and you are the one who must meet it. Not I." Lucas shook his head, sympathetic. "You have come back to us from the snows, Obi-Wan. Many do not. You are reborn, with a new life before you... and perhaps a new calling. Don't let fear close your mind and your heart."

It was the first time in his life that anyone had ever suggested that he might not become a Knight, that his destiny might lie outside of the monastery and its rules and teachings. If anyone else had spoken the words, Obi- Wan would have dismissed them summarily, but this was Brother Lucas, his mentor, his teacher-- the man he had called master for most of his life.

"I will try to keep an open mind," he said softly.

"I know you will, my boy." Lucas smiled and took his hand, squeezing, and Obi-Wan squeezed back. Speaking with his master had always left him feeling strong in both mind and heart, girded for the future and this time was no different, even though his master's words had been shocking.

He knew now that no matter what decision he came to, no matter the direction his life took, he would always have a friend and support in Brother Lucas.

PART 53

The bundle at the foot of Obi-Wan's bed stirred and he looked down, smiling as Anakin's blue eyes blinked open. The boy sat up and rubbed at his eyes with the back of his hands.

"About time he wakened." Brother Lucas smiled. "Lads his age are always sleepy or hungry. Have you breakfasted?" He addressed Anakin directly.

"Some, sir," replied Anakin as he climbed onto the end of Obi-Wan's bed.

"But not enough, perhaps?" Brother Lucas smiled, and pulled some dried fruit wrapped in leather from a pouch at his waist. "Maybe this will hold you till the noon bell."

"Thanks!" Anakin's eyes brightened and he accepted the fruit, chewing eagerly.

"Anakin has spoken of an interest in staying here at the monastery," Obi-Wan told Lucas softly. "He would like to learn history and weapons. And the theory of governing, I think."

"I want to learn how to fight, like Obi-Wan!" Anakin interposed eagerly. "He's better than anybody."

"As Obi-Wan's training master, I am glad to hear that you think so." Brother Lucas kept a solemn face, but his eyes twinkled, and Obi-Wan could tell he'd taken a liking to the prince's son.

"I believe the lad would make a fine, apt pupil," Lucas commented, a quiet tone in his voice that was not lost on Obi-Wan. "If his father consented, of course."

"That is the problem," Obi-Wan agreed, and their attention was taken by a tap at his door.

"Come in," Obi-Wan called.

"Padawan Kenobi." Pater Mundi glided in. "It is good to see that you are so much improved."

"I'm still a little shaky." Obi-Wan felt sudden discomfort, remembering what Brother Lucas had told him, and his own feelings about it, in contrast to the firm purpose he had shown to Mundi. "Anakin, this is Pater Ki Adi Mundi, head of the Council for this cycle."

Anakin jumped up and gave Mundi a courtly bow, his blanket falling onto the floor. "An honor, Sir."

"He and his sire both have courtly manners at need," Mundi commented, not unkindly.

"It seems the lad has a yen to learn more than courtly manners and feels the monastery might be the place to learn them," commented Brother Lucas.

"Indeed." Mundi looked to Anakin for confirmation.

"Yes, sir," said Anakin. It was quite obvious from his demeanor he was trying to impress Pater Mundi with his seriousness. "I've been attending classes while we've been here and doing the out of class assignments and everything. I really like the novitiates -they don't treat me like I was different."

"As if I were different," Pater Mundi corrected absently.

"Yes, sir."

"And what does your father think of this idea?"

"I didn't exactly ask yet, but I don't think he likes it here very much and I think he might say no. But I told Obi- Wan that if he asked my father would listen." Anakin's eyes were wide and earnest as he looked at the three of them in turn.

Obi-Wan could feel color tingeing his cheeks, but he met Pater Mundi's eyes squarely. "I told Anakin that I would speak to him about it and that I would be happy to sponsor the boy if his father agreed."

"I think it would serve the land well to have a Jedi-taught king on the throne," suggested Brother Lucas.

Pater Mundi nodded his head. "Hopefully the prince will also see the wisdom in this course of action."

"Keeping in mind that he is not a monk and will never be, and that his loyalties are not and must not be made the same as yours," Obi-Wan heard himself say sternly. Brother Lucas nodded approval; Mundi just looked at him with hooded eyes.

"But of course," Mundi commented, silky-calm. Only then did Obi-Wan realize the import of his phrasing. 'Yours,' not 'ours.' He swallowed hard, but stood his ground.

At that very moment a third knock sounded on the door, not the light tap of the brothers. Obi-Wan blinked, knowing who had produced the sound. "Come in." Sith, he was not ready for this confrontation now. "Anakin, perhaps you should not--"

"Father!" Too late; the boy was already running across the floor to leap into Prince Qui-Gon's arms. "I've been talking to Obi-Wan, 'n Brother Lucas, 'n Pater Mundi, and I want to stay and learn to fight like Obi-Wan does, I want to learn everything he knows, it'll be so much better than at the castle, please, let me stay!" Words tumbled from his mouth in an excited rush.

Qui-Gon's eyes widened at Anakin, then lifted, turning cold and narrow, scanning the three men before him. "No." His voice was as chilly as his stare. "You belong at the castle, Anakin, and I'll not have you manipulated into staying behind here. You don't understand the sacrifices involved in becoming a monk--"

"But I don't wanna be a monk, I just want to learn, you don't have to take vows if you stay, Obi-Wan said so!" Anakin's full lips drew up into an ugly pout and he stepped back, folding his arms and sulking.

"Anakin," said Obi-Wan, before the situation could become any uglier than it was, "why don't you go see if they need any help in the kitchens. They'd probably be able to spare a nibble for your trouble."

"I don't want to go if you're going to talk about me."

"We aren't going to be talking about you," said Qui-Gon. "There's nothing to discuss-- you will be coming home with me."

"Will not! And you can't make me!" Shouted the boy before pushing past his father and running from the room.

"That little display should have convinced you of the boy's need for the structure and discipline," commented Pater Mundi.

Obi-Wan held back his gasp and watched as the prince's face grew red, his hands clenching into fists. "Perhaps you both could leave me alone to discuss this with the prince. I'm sure there are other matters that require your attention," suggested Obi-Wan softly.

"You could start by assuring him that Pater Mundi does not teach the classes in diplomacy," suggested Brother Lucas quietly to Obi-Wan as he patted the young monk's hand and stood to go. Pater Mundi looked as though he had more to say, but to Obi-Wan's relief, he followed Brother Lucas from the room. The prince watched them go, face no less thunderous.

"I'm sorry it was thrown at you like that," Obi-Wan began. "Anakin came to me speaking of his wish to stay here, and while we were speaking, Brothers Lucas and Pater Mundi arrived. I assure you, no manipulation occurred."

Qui-Gon simply glared at him, and Obi-Wan continued, nonplused by the prince's silence. "Did you know that Anakin is bored at the palace? He says there is very little he's allowed to do. That it isn't seemly for him to curry horses or fix things. That his tutors actively discourage him from making himself useful." Obi-Wan tried a smile. "Here, he'd be allowed to build character through undertaking reasonable labor. It would teach him valuable skills, humility, patience. And, if you will, discipline."

"All things that you could teach him at the Palace," Qui- Gon spoke, and much of the heat had left his voice. He approached Obi-Wan quietly. "Are you feeling better this morning?"

"I could not," Obi-Wan disagreed. "I must watch after you."

"Then you'll be coming with me-- with us?" Qui-Gon corrected himself, hope flickering on his grave, careworn face.

"That is not the issue at hand," Obi-Wan deflected.

"Then have Pater Mundi send another monk to court, one to teach Anakin." Qui-Gon recovered gracefully. "Any of the brothers would be welcome."

"Anakin can learn better here, where the libraries and the training masters reside. No one of us knows all that he needs. We specialize each in our different fields."

"Anakin is not staying." Qui-Gon's face stretched tight with resolve. "There are also teachers and libraries at court."

"Perhaps you will reconsider," suggested Obi-Wan, lifting his hand as the prince's mouth opened. "I will give you my answer in two days, I think that would be ample time for you to truly consider what would be best for Anakin and let him know then what you have decided."

"Are you making your own return with me conditional upon his staying here?" Qui-Gon's voice tightened with pain.

"Not at all." Obi-Wan shook his head for emphasis, remembering Anakin's assertion that if he insisted, the prince would do as he asked. "All I ask is that you give the matter some thought, some consideration. This is not a whim on your son's part."

He waited for the prince's answer, watching as various emotions flickered quickly behind the blue eyes. He could feel the tension in his own limbs and realized that this had become a test. If Qui-Gon truly meant to make an effort to understand and respect his bodyguard he would begin by being willing to examine this matter before making a final decision. He would at least make a show of listening to more than his own arguments and feelings.

Obi-Wan was startled to realize just how important it was to him that Qui-Gon make the right decision.

PART 54

Qui-Gon glowered, his anger like a fist in his chest. These monks were filling his son's head with all sorts of notions and he was not only supposed to be happy about it, but was expected to leave him here and let them continue? He wouldn't have it! Anakin belonged at his side, the boy would be king one day and there was nothing these cloistered monks could teach him of the world that he couldn't learn with the tutors that had been hired.

Obi-Wan was looking at him so earnestly, the boy's eyes large in his pale face. Sighing, Qui-Gon thought that it wouldn't hurt to delay his answer; Obi-Wan didn't need to know that he had no intention of actually reconsidering. If it won him some regard in the young monk's eyes, well, he couldn't think of a better reason to make the concession of delaying his answer.

"Very well. I will give you and Anakin my final answer in two day's time."

Obi-Wan relaxed visibly at that and Qui-Gon frowned again. Was it really so important to the monk that Anakin take his lessons at the monastery?

Obi-Wan sank back against the pillows, apparently exhausted, wiping sweat from his brow with a hand that trembled just a little, and Qui-Gon pushed away the remnants of his anger, at least for the moment. "You're still weak," he stepped forward. "Let me help you."

He fluffed Obi-Wan's pillow and helped him drink some broth from the pot on the hearth of the cell's tiny fireplace. It was clearly left over from the previous evening, but it was warm with the fire's heat. "Better?" Qui-Gon sat at Obi- Wan's bedside, eyes never leaving the thin face. His struggle to maintain heat on the mountainside had burned away any softness he'd acquired in court, plus more.

"Much." Obi-Wan drank as Qui-Gon's hand steadied the metal cup. "I'm glad you aren't angry."

Lacking anything better, Qui-Gon wiped Obi-Wan's lips with the cloth of his cloak. "Oh, make no mistake. I'm very angry indeed. But your health is more important." He put the cup within Obi-Wan's reach on the small writing table beside the bed. "And it isn't just you that I'm angry with. You the least of all, I think."

Obi-Wan looked up at him with tired, cautious eyes. Qui-Gon just sat there, smothering words in his throat that he knew might separate him from his bodyguard irrevocably. The words that would tell Obi-Wan that Qui-Gon saw him as a senseless victim of the monks' cruel, cold beliefs. The words about why he did not want Anakin to be such a victim. His fundamental philosophical criticisms of the Jedi Order.

"You should really speak to Anakin about this," Obi-Wan told him, finally breaking the growing silence. "Find out from him why he wants to do this. I know you think that we put the idea in his head, but truly it came from him. Even if you decide not to let him come, it behooves you to find out why he wants to. Why he thinks he would get a better education here than at the castle."

"He doesn't want to be treated differently-- he thinks he can leave his duty as heir to ung monk sighed, slumping almost pathetically. "Whoever that is, I will depart with them and leave a guard to ensure that you are allowed to rest." Qui- Gon stood up briskly, glad to have a focus for his irritable energy.

He yanked the door open, only to come up sharp, stopped short by Shmi's angry face. "We have to talk," she snapped, and yanked him through the door by the tunic without so much as a by-your-leave.

"Stay and keep visitors from troubling Kenobi. He needs rest," Qui-Gon managed to bark at his escort before she towed him down the hall, easily as furious as he'd ever seen her. She stalked silently in the lead, fuming, and Qui-Gon felt chastened in spite of himself, resenting the feeling. He had a strong suspicion he knew what was coming, and he hadn't been prepared for it to come from this quarter.

Shmi ushered him into her quarters curtly and didn't give him time to sit down before slamming the door and rounding on him like a spitting cat. "Anakin is my son. I've spent years watching you play with him when it suited you, like a pet, and ignoring him when it didn't. I've come to your bed as it pleased you, and been glad of the privilege. The two of us have been always been pawns in your selfish life and It. Ends. Here!"

Qui-Gon blinked, resisting the urge to step away from her fury.

"I'm not having my son grow up spoiled to palace life, where he treats those who love him like whores and thinks it fine!" Her childhood accent grew thicker with her anger, what was usually a soft lilt cutting him like a knife. "You will let Anakin stay here, where he can learn to behave like the gentleman you ought to be... and be a better king for it!"

"Or else what?" Qui-Gon bellowed, finally finding space to insert a word. "Or you won't come to my bed any longer? As though you think that would trouble me!"

His ears rang, and it was a long moment before he understood that she'd slapped him.

"Now, banish me if you like, because I'm staying here, too!" Shmi hissed at him.

Qui-Gon's hand rose to his cheek, slowed by disbelief, and he watched her eyes fill with angry, remorseful tears. "I have never asked anything of you, but I will have this now, for the well-being of my son!" Shmi wrapped her arms around herself miserably.

"He's not your son! He's not my son! Anakin belongs to the kingdom!" Qui-Gon felt rage rising in him, out of control-- a strong desire to strike Shmi, to see her fall. It boiled in him blackly.

He lashed out with words instead. "What right have you to command me? You're nothing but a kitchen slut. You have no way of knowing the best way to raise a prince."

Shmi went white, her throat jumping visibly. "Do you know how many times I have cursed the day I first went to your bed?" Her low voice vibrated with anger. "Every time you took some new slut to it. Every time you took some pouting boy to it. Every time I have watched you look on your new bodyguard with lust, determined to destroy him in the service of your own prick!"

Qui-Gon turned from her, hands clenching to fists. If he had not, he would have struck her.

"Clearly whatever way you were raised was far from the best way to raise a prince!" She continued, her voice shaking, and Qui-Gon heard her fear, knew she'd read his eyes before he turned and seen herself in them, crumpled and broken on the floor.

"Silence." Qui-Gon's voice sounded like he'd swallowed shattered glass. "Silence, or I will..."

"You will what? Kill the mother of your son with your bare hands? Disown your heir? I would rather have either thing happen than live to see Anakin grow into your boots!" Shmi's voice rose to a shriek of pain and misery.

"Would you have me go and lie in the snows for penance, woman?" Qui-Gon rasped through gritted teeth. "Perhaps it would be best if I were no longer around to bring destruction on those I touch!"

She didn't answer, and Qui-Gon knew as well as anyone that silence implied assent.

"Sith take you," Qui-Gon spat. "Sith take you and be damned to you! I would have given you anything you asked for but this."

"I will have this." Shmi did not waver. "I will have this, or you will have to go to war with the Jedi to reclaim your son."

Qui-Gon jerked around to stare at her, shocked and hurt beyond believing.

"I am his mother, and Anakin is his own person. Very nearly a man. The monks respect his will, and when I make mine known to them, they will respect it as well."

"And there is no respect for the Jinn Throne?" Qui-Gon spat into the fireplace bitterly.

"You do not yet hold the Jinn Throne." Shmi looked at him, her eyes flinty.

Qui-Gon's fists clenched and unclenched, his mouth working silently with baffled rage. "It is a pity that Xanatos did not catch the two of you," he lashed out at last.

"I am unsurprised to find that, in the end, you care so little for your son." Her lips curled with contempt.

They stood staring at each other, but no words remained; all the savagery and pain that could exist seemed already to lie between them. "You are mistaken," Qui-Gon replied to her with what scant shreds of dignity remained to him. "And I did not mean that."

She shrugged, shrinking in on herself. "When you go, we will stay. And when Anakin is trained, he will return to you."

Qui-Gon bared his teeth in a grimace of pain. "With his spirit crushed and his soul warped with perverse guilt and self-denial!"

"You understand so little." Again the hard edge of her pain and contempt shone through in the glitter of her eyes. "Better that than the other." She paused, eyeing him coldly. "Get out of my rooms."

Qui-Gon stared at her, seeing years of love turned to hate seemingly in the blink of an eye-- again by his own foolish and unwitting cruelty, at least as much as by his refusal to let Anakin stay. For a moment he wavered, remorseful, but his pride rankled him savagely, like sharp spurs, and it would not permit apology. Not in the face of such insult.

The soft sound of her weeping followed him through the door.

There were monks gathered outside: councilors, their pale faces sweating. Mater Yaddle looked shaky on her feet, letting Pater Mundi steady her. "We have shielded the innocent from the darkness you and your party have brought within our walls." Pater Mundi's serenity seemed brittle. "If there are further incidents of this magnitude, you will be removed. Is this clear?"

Qui-Gon blinked, thinking suddenly of Obi-Wan's sensitivity and his unusual powers, wondering precisely how far they extended, if being near an argument could cause such distress in these normally unshakable master monks. He drew himself up, striving for the appearance of control. "I'm going outside for a walk," he stated flatly.

"Take any supplies you need and do not return until you are calm," Mundi directed sharply.

Qui-Gon turned on his heel without a word and left, feeling a keen understanding of Obi-Wan's need to retreat to the uncomplicated chill purity of the mountain snows.

PART 55

Qui-Gon shouldered the small roll of provisions he'd managed to gather and set out up the mountain. Obi-Wan's tracks still remained, half-filled with snow, and he followed them listlessly, winding his way upward at a steady pace.

He found the place where Obi-Wan had fallen, then quite a long way further, the snowbank where he'd burrowed. Qui-Gon blinked, realizing that Kenobi had entirely buried himself in snow. No telling how long he'd stayed; it was a miracle he'd come back at all. He sat on a stone next to the drift that had very nearly served Obi-Wan Kenobi as an icy grave, and let the cold mountain air bathe his face.

He was terribly glad he hadn't hit Shmi. In spite of everything, he loved her. She wanted what she believed was best for Anakin. He'd mistreated her for years, taken her for granted-- earned her rage.

Obi-Wan had come here to do penance, in the depths of misery and guilt for transgressions of heart and flesh. Now Qui- Gon felt some obligation to do the same, but he scourged himself with shame rather than snow, fingering through his transgressions in his mind.

Each meaningless conquest and liaison. Each time he should have spent time with his son and Shmi, but had played at other amusements or sulked in petty boredom instead. Each time Shmi had perhaps needed understanding and support, but he'd been too self-absorbed to see.

Qui-Gon scooped up a double handful of snow, letting the chill bite at his fingers. And Obi-Wan. How he'd tormented the lad. Driven him here, nearly to his death. It was better after all that Anakin be raised away from his influence. A bitter thought indeed.

Qui-Gon's hands crushed the yielding snow into hard, compact wads, forcing most of it out through his fingers. "No more," he heard the words spoken aloud, realized he'd said them. A crow called harshly in the distance, seeming to echo his own unmelodious words.

"No more." A vow of his own, cut deep into his heart. No more the debauched fool, living a life better suited to some foolhardy youth. He was a man grown, a prince, soon to be king. "No more."

The silent stones his only witness, Qui-Gon stood, his hands wet with snow and his face wet with tears. He looked down at the monastery where the only things that truly mattered to him now resided, separated from him by his own pride and selfish folly. Smoke curled up thinly on the breeze, whispering of the comforts of hearth and home.

He let the handfuls of melting ice drop, shaking wetness from his hands, and opened his meager pack. He ate a few strips of dried meat, washing them down with mouthfuls of pristine, pure snow. After he finished, he tied his bundle back up and set off down the mountain, his heart sad but settled.

Pater Mundi awaited him at the rear entry through which he'd so recently carried Obi-Wan, watching him with quiet caution.

"I will go as soon as my party may be readied." Qui-Gon looked past Mundi, pride stinging him fiercely. He made himself continue. "My son and his mother will stay or go, as they will."

"Obi-Wan is not yet ready to travel or to protect you." Mundi stood aside and let him enter.

Qui-Gon sighed heavily. "And I do not know if he is even returning with me until two days hence. With your permission we will stay two more days."

"As long as there are no more scenes like this morning's you may stay until he is recovered. As for your son, Anakin is welcome to stay and benefit from the tutelage here, if that is his wish, we have a number of students from various lands temporarily residing here in that capacity. The boy's mother, however, must return with you - we have no place for her among our walls, not on a permanent basis."

"I somehow doubt she wishes to return with me," Qui-Gon admitted sadly as they walked together toward his cell.

"I am sorry, but we cannot make an exception. She is too old to join the order and unless her life is in danger, we offer no sanctuary here."

"She's safe enough, I'll not harm her," bristled Qui-Gon. He let his longer legs carry him ahead of the Pater as they rounded a corner and he recognized his own cell at the end of it. Panaka and Olie looked relieved to see him, though they made no comment.

"Is someone with Kenobi?" he asked sharply.

"Tarpals."

"Good."

"You really don't need to stand your guard outside your own quarters, let alone Kenobi's," Mundi told him as he caught up with him.

"I hope you aren't planning to tell me that no harm can come to him here." Qui-Gon gave the man a sharp look.

"I realize that you do not understand our ways and therefore I am trying to make allowances for you. You have not made it easy, your highness. If you should need anything...." Mundi offered a small bow and left.

Qui-Gon watched the man leaving with ill-grace -every encounter with the man deepened his dislike. It occurred to him the feeling was quite likely mutual. Perhaps Pater Mundi felt the same way about letting Obi-Wan return to his castle as Qui-Gon himself felt about leaving Anakin here at the monastery. However, he sincerely doubted that Mundi could possibly understand how deeply a father could love his son. Love was probably frowned upon as an uncontrollable and unnecessary emotion.

The thoughts buzzed angrily about in his head and he was nearly at the single chair provided in his room when he realized it was already occupied. Shmi sat there, her face red, her eyes puffy. Qui-Gon felt another stab of guilt go through him, knowing he was responsible for her unhappiness.

He stared down at her, unsure of what to say, how to even begin to bind the wounds between them; she had always been frank with him, but never before hurtful. If it had been anyone else he would have sent them away summarily, not even tried to reconcile, but this was Shmi; mother of his son, the first and possibly only person who had lain with him because she loved him rather than the crown, his steadfast friend for many years.

He didn't have so many friends that he could trust that he could lose one so easily.

He examined the floor beneath his boots, watching as the last of the snow melted into small puddles around his feet, turning the slate grey dark. It was Shmi who finally broke the awkward silence between them.

"Your Highness, I am truly sorry."

"You've never apologized for speaking your mind before."

"I am not apologizing for speaking my mind. I'm not sorry for that," her eyes flashed with a spark of fire. "But I am sorry for deliberately wounding you, that was cruel and unkind of me."

"I accept your apology, if you will accept one from me. Much of what you said was truth-- I have not been an easy man to live with and you deserve better."

"I probably do at that," she told him, the corner of her mouth lifting.

Qui-Gon laughed, feeling some of the tension creep away. He knelt in front of the chair, taking Shmi's hands in his own. "I don't like it, but if completing his education here at the temple is truly what you and Anakin want, I will not stand in his way. I do have one condition."

"Of course you do," she responded tartly, her smile disappearing. "Let's hear it."

"I want him to come home for regular visits-- it's important that he not forget his duties as heir to the throne. And I would not like him to forget that his father loves him and wants him at home."

She looked a little surprised. "That seems reasonable." Her voice still shook with the aftermath of emotion, and she reached out to touch his face. "Prince Qui-Gon..."

"Just Qui-Gon." He heard the sad desperation in his own voice.

"Qui-Gon." She tasted the name gently. "It is not just... that is, I want to say..." she hesitated. "Much of my anger came from jealousy, I'm afraid. And not of poor girls like Sira, or hapless boys like Bruck." She look like the words hurt her, but kept plowing on resolutely. "It's Kenobi. With the others, there was always a part of you that I touched and they didn't... but Kenobi..."

Qui-Gon nodded, understanding. "I can't have him," he said, and the words tasted as bitter as any he'd ever spoken. "He'll never be what I need him to be to me. Perhaps that's fitting punishment for the way I've hurt you."

Her eyes filled with tears. "Maybe he can, one day. But you must be patient with him, Qui-Gon. If it is to be, it will be on his terms. Not on yours."

He slid his arms about her waist; she held him close and let him pillow his head on her breast. "Will you come back with me? I need you to keep me in line." He heard tears in his own voice.

"Kenobi will take care of that, I expect." Sorrow and humor merged in her voice. "You don't need me. But... neither does Anakin, I think. I would be an anchor around his neck, here. I will come with you, Qui-Gon, and be glad that you asked that he could come and visit."

Qui-Gon didn't tell her that Mundi would not allow her to stay, prefering to let her believe she had a choice in the matter.

"I'll need you anyway," he told her. "Obi-Wan has not given me his answer, there's still the chance that he will not be returning with us."

"He will." Her voice held certainty.

"Has he spoken to you?"

"No, but I don't think he has a choice. Your lives are tied together, you don't have to be one of these pure, stiff monks to see that, it's as plain as the noses on your faces."

"Well, with you and Kenobi to keep me in line, it'll be a wonder if Anakin can even recognize me when he returns for his first visit."

Shmi laughed at that. "Oh, I think it'll take a lot more than a poor cook and monk to manage that miracle."

PART 56

When Qui-Gon returned to Obi-Wan's room the next morning, it felt as though aeons had passed since he saw his bodyguard last. That sensation did not diminish when he heard the soft response to his knock and entered, to find Obi-Wan sitting behind a bowl of thick stew, looking much improved.

Anakin was already there, looking fidgety and nervous. Qui- Gon winced, thinking of the tales he had probably carried to Kenobi. A shaming and inauspicious beginning to Qui-Gon's new vow, if he had. "Son," he greeted Anakin soberly. "Obi-Wan." He bowed his head to them both and stepped in; there were no more chairs, so he stood.

Anakin blinked and stood abruptly to offer his own seat. "Father."

Qui-Gon accepted gracefully. "Before I ask for your answer, Obi-Wan, I will give you mine. His mother and I have discussed Anakin's desire to stay here with you as his sponsor, and we have made our decision." It sounded so mild, put that way. Anakin looked worried even though he had to know the outcome, and Obi-Wan looked even more so. Qui-Gon gravely put them out of their misery.

"Anakin may stay, provided that Pater Mundi permits him to make regular trips home to visit."

"YIPPEE!" Anakin capered around the room, shouting.

"Son! Don't break Obi-Wan's furniture." There wasn't much to break, but the yelling was giving Qui-Gon a headache.

He turned to gauge Obi-Wan's reaction, and pulled up short. Obi-Wan's face shone with radiant approval and shy pleasure, his blue eyes wide and startled. Qui-Gon's heart cracked, and he fell in love all over again.

He drew back, pulling his cloak tight over himself, hiding his hands inside the fold of his arms. "Yes. Well. Make whatever arrangements you require, and let me know what part I need to play in them, if any." The gruff tone in his voice was lost in Anakin's exuberant chatter, as he descended on Obi-Wan, trying to make all the plans in thirty seconds or less.

He watched as Anakin bounced onto the bed into Obi-Wan's lap, his bodyguard's arms coming around the boy as naturally as if Anakin were his own son. Qui-Gon realized that the two had become quite close during their stay, short though it had been. Obi-Wan spoke quietly to the boy, easily calming his exuberance, not by dulling it, but by focusing it.

Soon Anakin was making a quick bow and bounding from the room, several tasks to fulfill.

"We aren't much for pomp and circumstance here," Obi-Wan said, turning to him after the boy left. "You'll probably find our ceremony simple in the extreme, but it is thousands of years old."

"Can you tell me what it consists of?" Qui-Gon spoke carefully, determined not to make a misstep.

"As Anakin's sponsor, I shall present him to Pater Mundi at the front gates and ask that he be granted entrance to learn. Pater Mundi will ask if there is anyone who will accept responsibility for overseeing the boy's studies while he is here-- my own mentor and teacher Brother Lucas has already agreed to do so."

"So it isn't necessary for me to give him away, or anything like that?"

That brought a soft chuckle from his bodyguard's lips and Qui-Gon resolved to do what he could to coax the sound from Obi-Wan more often. "He isn't going to become a monk, he will still be your son and heir-- you aren't giving him away, just giving him the best education you can. He will be a formidable ruler with the knowledge of the order in his hand."

"You set great store by these monks." --Who were going to let you die, he thought, though he didn't say the words out loud.

"They will teach your son well. He will be a better ruler for their teaching," Obi-Wan was lovely in his earnestness, his changeable eyes appearing as blue as Anakin's, light color upon his cheeks.

"Better than me, you mean," suggested Qui-Gon, dryly.

"I didn't say that." But Obi-Wan didn't meet his eyes and Qui-Gon knew that his bodyguard believed it, even if he would not say it.

Qui-Gon sighed, sitting back in the narrow chair. No point in self-disclosure or explanation or confessions or promises. No point in much of anything.

"Will you come back to the castle with me?" He interrupted his own question by raising his palm sharply. "No, I shouldn't press. You'll tell me your decision in your own time, I'm sure." He stood up, abruptly as agitated as his own son had been just moments before, but much less pleasantly so.

"Your highness..."

"No," Qui-Gon interrupted him again, doggedly. "I want you to know first that I'll respect whatever decision you make, and I won't argue." He stopped in front of the fire, staring into the embers.

"Prince Qui-Gon." Obi-Wan's bed rustled, then creaked, and he heard the patter of bare feet on the hard stone, approaching him. "I will return to my duty."

He glanced back, not sure what Kenobi meant by that. Obi- Wan stood tall, wearing a simple linen sleep tunic that stretched to mid-calf, but he still looked strong and proud.

"I will not forsake my duty until it is done."

Qui-Gon's breath caught, but he forced himself to release it again immediately. Duty. That was all. And Kenobi's duty could be done as swiftly as Pater Mundi chose, which might be seconds, should Qui-Gon annoy him again. "I am pleased and honored to accept your service." Qui-Gon took a deep breath. "There will be changes made when we return to the castle, to increase the ease with which you may do your job effectively."

"That is not necessary to ensure my being there, however I do appreciate any effort you make in that direction." Obi- Wan looked up at him, eyes serious. "I would especially appreciate it if you didn't take my suggestions as a personal affront. They are intended only to keep you from harm."

"I can assure you that my attitude is among the changes I have in mind. I am sorry for my behavior in the past; I have been a brutish, unkind lout."

Obi-Wan held up his hand. "You have already apologized, your highness. There is no need to do so again, until you have committed a new offense." The corner of Obi-Wan's mouth twitched and the twinkle in his eye mitigated his words.

Qui-Gon inclined his head, accepting the gentle barb. Compared to Shmi's harangue, Obi-Wan was letting him off easy.

"I need something from you, if you are to come back with me," said Qui-Gon, watching ruefully as Obi-Wan's spine became impossibly straighter.

"Yes, your highness?"

"You must promise me that if I insult you, or cross into an area that is governed by some monkish rule I have no inkling of, that you will let me know. I don't mean to be a brutish oaf and I do have some manners, but a man cannot know which fork to use at the dining table if he has never been told which one goes with which course."

"I accept your condition. Thank you."

Qui-Gon wanted to touch Obi-Wan, wanted to reach out and brush his coarse, callused fingertips against one fine cheekbone, right where a dark freckle lay on the skin. He let his hand tighten to a fist instead, hidden inside the folds of his cloak.

"Thank you," he responded. He felt elated and miserable all at once, choked with a sensation of loss and the foreknowledge of useless yearning even as his heart soared with elation that Obi-Wan would still be with him, still be near, at least.

Obi-Wan smiled, unaware of his conflict, innocent. Still innocent, even after everything that had passed.

Thank all the powers that be; he had not destroyed that innocent light in his folly.

PART 57

Qui-Gon shivered as a chill wind blew down from the ice- capped peaks of the mountain. Despite his sadness at leaving his son, he would be happy to leave the cold stone walls of the monastery behind. He had found no peace in this place, on the contrary, he had been angered and disturbed in turns, the philosophies of these austere men and women at odds with his own in so many ways.

He looked over to where Obi-Wan stood with Anakin, his bodyguard wrapped within the folds of his thick brown robe. He doubted Obi-Wan had found peace here either -though he had to admit that his bodyguard had certainly found new resolve. Obi-Wan's face was as serene and bland as the rest of them.

Perhaps when they had returned to the castle he would ask Obi-Wan again about the penance and what had driven the young monk to end his life in the snows. He hoped they could find again the simple companionship they'd enjoyed before he threw his temper tantrum over the boy's refusal of his sexual advances.

He could feel his guards shifting restlessly behind him; they were eager to be on their way. Beside him Shmi stood tall and proud, only the occasional soft sniffle betraying her own emotion at leaving her son.

Finally the gates opened and Pater Mundi and the same three who'd greeted him a week earlier came out, along with the man Obi-Wan had introduced as his mentor-- Brother Lucas. A small number of young novitiates were also present, mostly boys around Anakin's age, trying somewhat unsuccessfully to mimic their elders' calm stillness.

A hush fell on the assembled crowd; Obi-Wan stepped forward with his arms tucked deeply into his sleeves. He still looked a little shaky, to Qui-Gon's eye.

"I bring a candidate for learning. He is of age, and he is conscious of what his choice means. His parents have given consent for him to be trained and taught among us." Obi-Wan surveyed the gathering, meeting the councilors' eyes. "I wish to sponsor his training. Will he be granted admission?"

Pater Mundi let the silence stretch coolly for a long moment, and Qui-Gon was certain it was done simply to needle him by giving him the hope that permission would be refused. Anakin fidgeted, his face suddenly anxious, and Qui-Gon gritted his teeth. Sith, but he hated leaving his son to this! Perhaps in a few months, the lad would change his mind and ask to come home. It was a hopeful thought, and Qui-Gon brightened accordingly.

"I have no objection," Mundi responded smoothly. "Is there one who will see to the child's training and be held accountable for him?"

"I will." Brother Lucas stepped forwnwavering and clear as he answered the question. As Brother Lucas held his hand out and Anakin took it a pang went through Qui-Gon. He knew he wasn't the world's best father, but he had always taken a personal interest in the boy, made sure that Anakin listened to his mother, had the best tutors. It galled him to know that it hadn't been enough for his son.

Anakin went through the gates with Brother Lucas and that seemed to be the end of it. The novitiates gathered around him, their sudden exuberance heartening to the prince-- at least the children had not yet had the life completely worked out of them. Obi-Wan was speaking quietly with Mundi, or rather Pater Mundi was speaking to him; Obi-Wan appeared to be doing little more than listening and nodding. After a brief hug and a kiss to either cheek, the Pater was making his way to Qui-Gon.

Shmi touched his shoulder gently and slipped away to say good-bye to her son, leaving him to face the Pater alone.

"Thank you for your hospitality," said Qui-Gon. "Take care of my son."

"We will, your highness. We were glad of your visit." The monk bowed briefly and took his leave. Only too eager to see them gone, thought Qui-Gon. The feeling was quite mutual.

A stone-faced Shmi returned with Anakin. The boy raised his arms and Qui-Gon hoisted him into the air, tossing him up and catching him again. He wondered if it were perhaps the last time he would do so; Anakin was scheduled to return to the castle for a two week visit in three months, but the boy was already growing and would quite possibly be too heavy for such play upon his return.

Anakin's arms circled his neck as Qui-Gon held the boy in a tight embrace. "I love you, Father."

"And I you, son." He set the boy down and watched as he scampered off to say goodbye to Obi-Wan.

Then Obi-Wan was coming toward him and the great gates were closing. The last thing Qui-Gon saw behind them was Anakin's bright face, his son waving vigorously at them.

Beside him Shmi wiped at her eyes, the tears she had been holding back finally being given leave to fall. Turning to her, Obi-Wan laid his hand on her arm. "It was a good choice," he said, his voice soft and even Qui-Gon felt soothed by the words.

PART 58

Qui-Gon kept himself back, wanting to keep an eye on Obi- Wan. His bodyguard sat his saddle steadily, even if he seemed a little less pert than usual. The whole party seemed subdued, preoccupied by the knowledge of leaving one of their own behind them. Qui-Gon sighed, feeling the weight more keenly than anyone else in the group except for Shmi.

Qui-Gon remained silent and tried to keep his vigilance unobtrusive. Even now, after all he had learned, he could not look at Obi-Wan without remembering the lad naked in his arms, drowsy blue eyes fluttering open, face confused and appealing, half-parted lips seeming to beg for his kisses. He gritted his teeth miserably. This was part of his penance, part of the price he had to pay for his ungracious behavior and his selfish desires.

Obi-Wan was safe from him now.

Qui-Gon drew his spine straight and held himself upright with conscious dignity. The crisp air washed over his face, and he set his eyes on the green horizon, drawing ever- nearer. He was so preoccupied with his own thoughts that he was startled when Obi-Wan reined his horse near to speak with him.

"You did the right thing. Anakin will be fine; he will thrive and prosper there." Obi-Wan looked concerned and compassionate; Qui-Gon realized sheepishly that he'd been preoccupied once again with his selfish thoughts rather than with thoughts of his son.

"He is only ten."

"Many of the lands' dukes and earls send their children to the temple for education as young as five or six. And his teachers will not let him forget what waits for him."

"You think I would have benefited from a similar education," suggested Qui-Gon, returning to an earlier conversation.

Obi-Wan sighed heavily and Qui-Gon wondered if his bodyguard would answer him. "I believe you were allowed to have your own way at all times. You were never refused, constantly indulged. That is a very dangerous habit for a future king. In the past it has led to wars and times of great hardship for the people as their leader indulges in personal whims."

"Perhaps such dangers will be averted as long as I have someone such as yourself to remind me of my faults," commented Qui-Gon dryly.

"I'm sorry if I have offended you," said Obi-Wan.

Qui-Gon shook his head. "No, do not apologize. You are quite right in your assumption that I have been surrounded my entire life by people who indulge my whims, yes-men. I would appreciate it if you would feel free to speak your mind with me. I will try to remember that I have requested it and not take out my temper on you if you hit a nerve."

"Your highness honors me," Obi-Wan said quietly. "I will do my best to deserve that honour."

Qui-Gon smiled tightly, knowing any response would expose his feelings and he did not wish to burden Obi-Wan with that knowledge. The monk would no doubt see it as another ploy to get him into bed and given his own past behavior, Qui-Gon would not blame him.

Silence grew between them, the sound of the horses' hooves on the hard ground signaling their departure from the cold, snowy lands of the monastery. It would take them almost two days to return to the castle, but Qui-Gon felt a weight come off his shoulders as the temple and its holdings were left behind. Even knowing that Anakin wasn't with them, he was well-pleased to be gone from the oppressive hallways and the unnatural silence. He could admit that he had overly indulged his appetites, but at least he was alive, not shut away and closed off like the monks of the monastery.

He looked at Obi-Wan, riding, quiet and pale, beside him. Though the boy emulated his elders, there was a part of him that seemed not to belong in that forced environment, to Qui-Gon's eyes at least. How long would Obi-Wan stay at the castle and would the boy still wear that calm, emotionless mask after a year? Two? Ten? Qui-Gon couldn't help but wonder if he were condemning them both to lives of helpless frustration and pain.

He vowed that Obi-Wan would not know of his love, of his lust. Let he himself be the one to suffer for them, not Kenobi.

Qui-Gon fell back, moving to ride near Shmi, but she remained silent, and did not lighten his mood. In fact, his spirits sank further. The echoes of the ugly words between them still lingered; he felt his own tongue weighted to silence by the memory. And by Anakin's absence. Qui-Gon had to admit that there was resentment in his heart against her for insisting that their son stay in a place that he hated, among men and ideas he distrusted. He wondered if he would ever again feel able to rely on and trust her as he once had.

He fell back further, riding abreast of Tarpals. The guard was a solid man, though cursed with a long sallow face and large ugly ears. "We'll have to treat with Xanatos and Crion," Qui-Gon commented quietly. "Their attack on my family is an act of overt aggression that cannot be ignored."

Tarpals nodded thoughtfully. "It will be hard fighting. Crion is a crafty leader, and Xanatos knows no equal in battle craft and trickery. We will lose men."

"We'll lose more if they grow confident enough to invade... and civilians besides." Qui-Gon sighed heavily. "We shall see what my father the King thinks."

Tarpals looked at Qui-Gon soberly. "Your Highness..." he hesitated, clearly thinking better of what he'd been prepared to say.

Qui-Gon watched him closely, thoughtful. "You think he will not want to pursue this affront with a show of force."

"Your Highness, it is not my place to speculate. Only to do as I am ordered."

Qui-Gon nodded, sympathizing. "My father will not object if I reinforce the border guard."

"No, your Highness."

"I would like you to be in charge of operations there. Keep watch for evidence of amassing troops, small raids, and any build-up of aggression."

Tarpals nodded briskly. "As you wish, Your Highness."

Qui-Gon spurred his horse forward, realizing that he had just taken an important step toward rulership, acting independently of his father-- and Tarpals looked as though he would obey without question. It was heartening, the first thing that appeared to have gone right in many days. Qui-Gon only hoped that increased vigilance would be sufficient to prevent loss of life.

His bodyguard turned toward him as Sebulba drew abreast of the smaller horse. "Perhaps we could find a route back to the castle that would circumvent your country estate?" suggested Obi-Wan.

"Wh-" Qui-Gon cut off his own question as the answer presented itself -to save Shmi any painful memories of the attack. Once again his bodyguard had given more thought to his family than Qui-Gon himself had. "We can cut across the grounds. There is a small clearing by a stream in the western woods, we could make camp there for the night."

Obi-Wan nodded and kept pace as Qui-Gon nudged Sebulba forward and gave the orders to Panaka. They made the remainder of the journey in silence, the horses slowing as the trees grew thicker, and it was already dark when they arrived at the clearing. Panaka and his men made quick work of setting up camp, staking the horses by the water and lighting a single fire for light and to warm their food.

With Shmi's deft touch the plain rations were far more appetizing than they were accustomed to. That, coupled with the guard's pleasure at returning to the castle turned the evening into an amiable affair.

They all turned in early, planning to be up with the sun for the completion of their journey. Qui-Gon lay in his bedroll, staring up at the stars. Obi-Wan lay beside him, his breathing slowing as he fell asleep. Qui-Gon imagined he could feel the boy's heat against his side and remembered the joy of holding him. Though Obi-Wan's body had been chilled and his survival in question, it had been the closest Qui-Gon had come-- would ever come, he suspected-- to his desires.

He ached for that tiny taste, for the sweet sensation of enfolding Obi-Wan in his arms and nestling close against him. He had not had sexual thoughts then; only thoughts of comfort and protection had crossed his mind-- and yet it had been more intimate than any embrace he'd ever known.

Qui-Gon lay perfectly still, not wanting to disturb the young monk, not wanting to threaten him in any way. His body kindled, he felt restless and miserable, but he did not dare even to turn to Shmi... as if she'd have wanted him. No, that part of their relationship was behind them now. It had to be; he could not use her again without love, and he would never love her as he loved his bodyguard. He had often heard minstrels tell stories and sing songs where love equated to suffering, but he'd never before understood them. Perhaps because he had never truly loved.

Resigned to thinking of his bodyguard through a sleepless night, he turned his thoughts to their living arrangements, wondering what Obi-Wan would find acceptable. Perhaps if he partitioned the bedroom into two living areas, and made sure the only entry to his was afforded through Obi-Wan's part of the room. That way they could each have a certain amount of privacy, far more than if Obi-Wan lay rolled in blankets at his bedside.

Obi-Wan deserved a proper bed, at any rate, and privacy of his own. And more clothes. And his own food. And status in the palace, the right to command servants and even, in some cases, soldiers and guards.

Qui-Gon began to prepare a lengthy list of the things he would give to Obi-Wan to ensure the lad's comfort and happiness. Horses and hawks and servants in waiting; fine coats, jewels to weave into his braid... the prince drifted into sleep as the list grew, hazily building his beloved bodyguard cloud-castles and dressing him in diamond dust and moonlight.

PART 59

Obi-Wan Kenobi woke when the first rays of dawn began to play on his face. He blinked, hearing the soft noises of a woodland morning-- birdcalls and amphibian songs seeming ghostly in the golden mist that had settled around the campsite. Prince Qui-Gon's tousled hair and beard glowed golden, covered with a million tiny droplets of mist, making him seem remote and enchanting even though he lay only inches from Obi-Wan.

Beautiful. Flawed and beautiful... and trying.

Obi-Wan lay perfectly still, not wanting to disturb the silence of the morning camp, not wanting to break the spell that lay over everyone who slept there. In this moment, it hardly seemed that Prince Qui-Gon could be cruel or coarse, or that he could be capable of such anger that it took the assembled Temple Council's full effort to shield his wrath from the initiates, whose mental defenses could not cope with its force.

Obi-Wan did not know what had transpired in the argument with Shmi, but apparently it had been beneficial in spite of the undisciplined torrents of emotion and rage. He wished his own calm reasoning could have persuaded Qui-Gon to take the right action, but now he would never know if it had been himself or Shmi who changed the man's mind. Perhaps both.

It was something to be accepted. The monks taught that there was no single right path to a good action or a good decision, and as long as more good was achieved than evil, one should simply thank fate and move onward.

Obi-Wan sighed, shifting just a fraction to ease his shoulder, which lay cramped beneath his weight. That was a morally ambiguous view, at best, and one that he'd often been quite uncomfortable with, but in this instance, he could see that it worked. Still, it was sad to see the new distance between Qui-Gon and Shmi. She lay halfway across the camp, and they had not spoken at dinner or afterward before lying down to sleep.

Qui-Gon would need him all the more now that he and Shmi were partly estranged. It gave him pause to think how much the prince relied on him; he had not expected that when he first accepted this mission. Perhaps the prince would always need him; they had moved well beyond a simply professional relationship into a far more personal one: friends and adversaries, each owing a life debt to the other.

Perhaps this would be a permanent assignment for him. The writing was on the wall, if he cared to see it, in both Pater Mundi and Brother Lucas's attitudes and actions. His own feelings of being an alien in the monastery merely supported that conjecture. He'd never expected to feel like an outcast there, but now he did. It was troubling.

At least he knew that he was wanted at court, though he might never feel he belonged there. Qui-Gon's emotions and desire for him might be troublesome, but they did not leave him in doubt of where he stood in the prince's eyes, and he doubted his standing among the Jedi.

Qui-Gon's eyes fluttered open, vague and lost in sleep for just a moment before they focused on him, and Obi-Wan felt himself smile automatically as Qui-Gon's face brightened. He felt affection for this man, saw good in him despite his careless ways, saw what he could be and wanted sincerely to help Qui-Gon achieve it.

Coming with him had been the right decision. Obi-Wan felt it as simple certainty, currents in fate converging and rushing him along into an unknown future.

"Up, my Prince. We ride early." Obi-Wan spoke, smiling.

Qui-Gon's eyes darkened hotly for just a moment, then went opaque as the prince rolled away from min and got to his feet. Obi-Wan winced, hearing his own unintentional innuendo too late.

Qui-Gon had apparently dismissed it, though, stretching his long heavy body and groaning. "I'm getting too old to sleep on the ground." His voice sounded gruff. "I've aches on top of aches, and a hard day in the saddle will mean more."

"We should arrive at the castle before nightfall," Obi-Wan pointed out, feeling shame at his unintentional taunt. "There will be hot water for baths, and you can summon Sira to tend you."

Qui-Gon gave him an inscrutable sideways glance. "If I choose," he commented shortly.

"I will give you your privacy if you do, and stand guard outside your door," Obi-Wan offered. "It was ill-mannered of me not to think of doing so before."

"You would hardly be a fit guard if you stood in a drafty corridor all night and then followed me about all day," Qui-Gon muttered, bending to fold and roll his blankets. "We will find a better solution."

Obi-Wan followed the prince's example, quickly making a neat bedroll. Around them, the camp began to stir, men wakened by their quiet conversation. Someone fed the fire and began to heat water for porridge; Qui-Gon saddled Sebulba and tied on his blanket roll and saddlebags. "We will eat standing and then make haste to the castle," he announced loudly enough for everyone to hear. "We will all feel the better for the chance to sleep in our own beds tonight."

There was a quiet rumble of agreement, and the men began to work more quickly. Qui-Gon himself went to help Shmi saddle her horse while Obi-Wan got a bowl of watery porridge sweetened with a dollop of honey for each of them. He carried Qui-Gon his breakfast, and they stood together to eat in companionable silence. Shmi joined them after fetching her own bowl, and when they finished, Qui-Gon gave her a leg up onto her gray palfrey.

Obi-Wan watched as the prince glanced about the camp, estimating how soon the men would finish. He gave them a few more minutes, then vaulted gracefully onto Sebulba. "We ride," he called, and Obi-Wan had to hide a smirk as he jumped onto his own horse and spurred forward in the prince's wake. Whatever Qui-Gon's upbringing had failed to provide, it had definitely not neglected to inspire the man with a sense of his own grandeur.

PART 60

Outrider scouts and relayed signals notified him that his son's party was finally returning from their foray out of the kingdom. Yoda sat in his chamber, wrapped in a heavy robe in spite of the warmth of the summer day, brooding on his son's return. Qui-Gon had not even bothered to notify him that he planned to leave. Intolerable insolence and foolhardiness.

Yoda ran his fingers along the quill of his pen, letting the feather tickle his skin lightly. Reports said that his son's bastard was not with the party; perhaps he'd been killed in the raid. The woman had not. Kenobi was still with Qui-Gon too, in spite of his obvious dissatisfaction prior to leaving. It surprised Yoda; he'd expected the young monk to return to the monastery shortly.

No one had ever borne his arrogant son's company for so long. Perhaps justifiably so. Yoda regretted not taking another concubine and trying again to breed a suitable replacement to wear his crown, but he had been old when Qui- Gon was born. Yoda sighed, remembering his queen. She had had died in giving birth to the crown prince, a horrible tragedy that sent the whole land into mourning even as it celebrated the birth of his heir.

It had been many years before Yoda recovered from her loss, and when he had, he'd no longer had an interest in carousing with women.

He sighed. The possibility of his siring a new heir was beyond consideration now, and it was a pressing concern especially with Qui-Gon's son Anakin missing. Not that a kitchen slut's whelp was ideal for the throne by any means! Still, there had always been the possibility of by-passing Qui-Gon altogether, handing the crown down to the boy and remaining in nominal control as an advisor, along with some of the other nobles. Palpatine in particular had been most gracious and kind these last days. An old and loyal friend...

Yoda frowned at the mist that seemed to cover his thoughts these days, making him sluggish and forgetful. He drank several mouthfuls of his tea, enjoying the strong flavor, enjoying the way it seemed to clear his mind.

Feeling stronger, he slid out of his chair and hobbled his way to the window, leaning heavily on his cane. The land spread out before him. His land; verdant, rolling hills and long, fertile fields, as well as rivers and lakes and deep green forests. His land, and there was no one he could trust it to. He was tired, but had no choice-- he would have to continue to live, to ensure the Kingdom enjoyed the rulership it had come to expect under his reign.

There was a small dust cloud on the main road now, visible even to his tired eyes, and he suspected it must be his son. Probably Qui-Gon was bedding the little monk; he crept into the bed of every likely maid and lad he saw, why should a Jedi be any different? Indeed, that's probably why the bodyguard was returning with him now; no doubt the Jedi had refused Kenobi on the grounds that he had defiled himself and broken oath.

"Your Majesty." A warm voice spoke behind him and Yoda turned to greet his adviser cordially.

"Palpatine. It is good to see you. How fares your ward?"

"She is well." Palpatine's smile stretched. "Things are so well we have found leisure to return to the castle indefinitely."

"That is indeed good news."

"You seem well today." Palpatine's hand fell on Yoda's shoulder. "Fresh hot tea... good for the bones. Go fetch more, girl."

King Yoda watched the wench as she scampered away. Siri, he thought her name was.

"So useful." Palpatine watched her as well. "So eager to please."

"She is a good girl," Yoda agreed. He knew Qui-Gon was bedding her; perhaps she could breed a new heir.

Palpatine continued to smile, and for a moment Yoda almost thought he saw something predatory in the other man's gaze. He shifted, a bit startled. "Is your tea too cold?" Palpatine poured more. How had he moved from the window to the table so quickly? Yoda frowned, shaking his head, and accepted the cup.

"I am an old man, and my mind wanders," the king confessed. "I am lucky to have such good counsel."

"Your majesty honors me."

"My son will be back shortly," said Yoda, nodding his head toward the window. "Without his son, I'm told. It is a sorry kingdom that boasts only one heir."

"Perhaps your majesty should appoint your heir."

"Dispense with the bloodline?" Yoda was shocked.

"You are a bold ruler and these are bold times. The bloodline is over-rated." Palpatine's words cut easily through the fog that had once again returned to his mind and when the Duke put it like that it seemed so reasonable...

It was at least something to consider.