PART 86

Qui-Gon's dreams were strange and troubling, and he woke from them with some relief. He was warm and snug and, despite the headache he did indeed have, he felt surprisingly good. It probably had a lot to do with the warm, lithe body in his arms, soft, shorn hair tickling the inside of his arm.

He kept his eyes closed, preserving the illusion that he and Obi-Wan truly were lovers. One look into those solemn eyes would remind him that this was a sham for the benefit of the servants. A happy rumble rose from his chest, unbidden and uncontrollable -at least it hadn't been the lad's name. To his surprise, Obi-Wan responded with a soft murmur and pressed close to nuzzle at his neck.

Even more surprising, indeed, shocking, was the erection sliding against his own, Obi-Wan's hips moving with knowing intent. For a moment joy sprang inside of him, sharp and almost painful.

Only to be deflated by the realization that this must be another dream, another wickedly real dream like the one he'd experienced at the temple. He was torn between losing himself to it or, now that he knew, waking from it before he could defile Obi-Wan any further within the shadow- realm.

Obi-Wan shifted to cover his nipple with his mouth and Qui-Gon gasped as Obi-Wan first bit and then soothed and sucked. His eyes flew open as his hands moved to the lad's head to hold him in place-- only to scramble backward in shock as the face that looked up into his was not Obi-Wan's, blue-as-crystal eyes beneath white lashes looking at him in growing confusion and hurt.

He kept moving backward until he hit another body and whipped his head around, shocked to find his bodyguard there. Changeable eyes, softly grey in the pre-dawn light, gazed at him in concern. "Are you all right?" asked Obi-Wan.

"I... I wasn't expecting him here!" Qui-Gon stammered, embarrassed.

"I summoned him when I realized you hadn't ejaculated." Obi-Wan flushed a delicate shade of red. "I thought you would find your activities more pleasant with a willing bed companion."

Qui-Gon stared into Obi-Wan's eyes with disbelief, feeling something in him shrivel with misery. He truly didn't care for Qui-Gon at all, if he could summon another man to Qui-Gon's bed to service him. His interest in the prince remained purely professions. Was he still counting the days until the threat was over and he could return to his precious monastery?

"Your Highness." Bruck's eyes were hopeful, his body was lean and taut. "I want to serve you in any way I can. If this is what you need, I am here, and I will give you what this bloodless monk will not." Bruck's eyes flashed briefly at Obi-Wan. He slid closer to Qui-Gon, pressing his trim body to the prince's.

Qui-Gon accepted the embrace automatically; his body knew what to do even though his heart was in tatters. "Very well." He hoped the hoarseness in his voice sounded like passion. His shaft ached nearly as much as his heart. It needed this, and his heart needed the temporary solace of sex.

Bruck squirmed against him like an eel, moaning softly-- he was ardent and passionate, a wonderful lover. He always had been, and beautiful too, even if he was sometimes inclined to sullenness. Qui-Gon thrust against him mechanically, then stilled as Bruck slithered down his body to take the prince's erection into his mouth.

He cried out as Bruck fellated him expertly: teasing, licking, sucking, drawing him in to the root and swallowing to massage the head of his shaft. He buried his fingers in the short hair, so like Obi-Wan's now, and thrust his hips, pushing himself quickly to completion. He shuddered deeply as he came, a hoarse shout leaving his throat.

Some of the tension in his body was released with his seed, he could feel the ache within his skull begin to ease. But Bruck was sucking him still, tongue teasing around the crown of his deflating shaft, fingers stroking his balls and the delicate skin behind them. Before he had a chance to protest, he was growing hard again, filling the boy's mouth with his length.

Bruck released him and moved up his body, sliding against him, skin hot, smooth, silky. Rough fingers slid over his nipples, followed by the silky heat of Bruck's tongue and he could only moan and thrust his hips.

"Ride me," Bruck said into his ear and then moved away to go to his hands and knees. Qui-Gon followed easily, settling between the boy's legs and taking the pot of oil Bruck handed back to him.

Working quickly he soon had Bruck prepared and he slid in without ceremony, beginning a hard, quick pace. Bruck threw his head back as he moved with Qui-Gon, pushing back into each thrust.

"Yes," gasped Bruck, "that's it, right there."

Qui-Gon thrust harder, pushing into the boy's body with all the power of his anger and his frustration and his pain. Unfazed, Bruck continued to encourage him, moving with him. He lost track of how long they moved together, Bruck's body picking up a sheen of sweat and glowing in dawn's light, glowing like he could imagine Obi-Wan's skin would. His glance slid to the monk who lay beside them, eyes averted, cheeks pinked.

Oh yes, thought Qui-Gon, he could almost imagine it was Obi-Wan he was thrusting into, Obi-Wan's body that moved so easily with his own. He could feel his orgasm building, could feel it barreling down his balls and into his shaft. Almost, just one more...

"Yes!" called out Bruck. "Yes, ride me, stallion, ride me!"

With a cry of pain, Qui-Gon came into Bruck's body and collapsed onto the boy's back, the words echoing in his ears fierce reminders that it had not been Obi-Wan beneath him. He pulled out, unmindful of Bruck's groan of frustration, and lay between the two men, closing his eyes tightly.

He could hear Bruck's harsh breathing and feel the movement of the boy's arm along the length of his own as Bruck worked to finish himself. Worse, he could hear the shallow, even breathing of his monk, could feel the still heat of Obi-Wan's arm as he lay quietly, unaffected by the antics of his bed-partners.

Never had sex left him feeling so empty, so roughly used by his own needs.

PART 87

Obi-Wan's mouth felt dry; his cheeks were on fire. He'd thought being in the same room with Qui-Gon's sexual antics was bad, but being in the same bed? He swallowed hard and turned over, trying to give them privacy. He worked to calm himself, slowing his breathing, and refused to let his body respond, but no matter how he tried, he couldn't shut out the sounds.

Obi-Wan fixed his eyes on a pale streak through one of the wall stones, struggling to lose himself in seeing the patterns of the life-force in the grain of the rock, but he couldn't meditate. He tried to focus on his heartbeat instead, withdrawing inside himself to close out the exterior world.

That worked a little better, and he sank into the shush of his pulse, trying to ignore how the rhythm of his life echoed the rhythm of sex on the bed next to him.

The bed shifted beneath him as Bruck and Qui-Gon moved, changing positions and Obi-Wan moved with it, rolling to his back. He found a new point to focus on, a slight tear in the heavy drapery at the top of the bedposts. The motion of the mattress beneath him and the rhythmic squeaking of the bed served to give away what the prince and the stable hand were doing now, though Obi-Wan refused to look.

He realized suddenly that his body no longer plagued him with desire; instead he was filled with a melancholy that he didn't quite understand and that was much harder to deal with than his physical reaction had been. The prince needed relief and couldn't find it on his own and Obi-Wan himself certainly wasn't going to be any help in that area, so bringing in Bruck had been the only thing that made sense.

Why then did it bother him so much?

Bruck's own words came back to him then: 'It's more than that.' More than duty. More than lying in Qui-Gon's bed because he had to. More than kissing him to preserve a pretense. More than all those things.

The time had been when he hadn't cared enough about Qui-Gon's sexual needs to ensure they were met. The time was when Qui-Gon hadn't needed such care. When had he changed so much, and how had it happened? He stared up into the drapes and let his mind drift, knowing that the tempest next to him must burn itself to embers eventually. It shouldn't take long.

Still, every moment that passed seemed like an hour, and he could find no simple answer to the questions circling mercilessly in his mind.

Very well, then. This was more than duty. Probably even more than friendship. The question remained-- how much more, and what was he to do about it? Nothing, he decided. Not for the time being, anyway, he would endure and focus on the more pressing issues at hand.

He could not remember any time in his life when he had felt such conflict within himself, such confusion. As long as he could remember, he knew that his destiny was to be as a Knight and that had been his focus; his focus had determined his reality. But now... His hand went to his braid, fingers sliding along the thin rope of hair. He had a vision of himself, the braid in his hands, cut from his hair, not in order to raise him to the rank of Knight within the Order, but to sever those ties for good.

It shook him, threw him out of the calm he'd found and he realized that the prince was finishing, the men beside him panting harshly as they caught their breath. As the prince lay down between him and Bruck, Obi-Wan remained stiff and unmoving, staring up at the drapery as if the ornate material carried the answers he sought to the questions his life had suddenly become.

PART 88

Bruck's gasp of completion was loud in the silence of Qui-Gon's rooms. Finished, he stretched langorously and turned to push his warm body against Qui-Gon's, one leg sliding over the prince's with lazy sensuality.

Clearing his throat, Qui-Gon gently untangled himself from the boy and sat up. Both Bruck and Obi-Wan put pillows at his back. He sat back against them, barely noticing their softness as he scrubbed at his eyes, feeling weary and suddenly old.

Bruck was a lovely boy who desired him and wanted to please him, but Qui-Gon had taken no joy from their coupling, only the animal pleasure of bodies. Not that long ago, that would have sufficed, but it no longer did. He couldn't imagine continuing with such barren sex; better he should have to make do for the rest of his life with nothing but his hand to offer him solace.

He could dream that perhaps one day his monk would... but no, that was not fair to Obi-Wan. If he were going to do this, it would have to be with the knowledge that Obi-Wan had chosen to honor the vows of his order. Bad enough that he used the monk in his fantasies.

But for now, two sets of eyes were watching him intently, waiting for him to speak.

He glanced between the two of them uncomfortably. Obi-Wan looked distant, faintly pained-- doubtless a result of his disgust at the carnal spectacle. Bruck looked sated, and that made Qui-Gon feel bad too; he'd given no thought to the boy's pleasure, leaving him to bring himself off.

Qui-Gon sighed. "I know this was kindly meant, by both of you, but..." he scrubbed his hand through his hair, watching both faces collapse-- one into wariness, the other into hurt. "Bruck." He reached and touched the lad's face. "I owe you an apology, for more than just this morning."

"Your highness--"

"Hear me out," he interrupted gently. "I have used you for my own pleasure, disregarding yours. I used you to annoy my bodyguard, and he has forgiven me, but you still bear the evidence of my foolishness." He ran his hand over Bruck's shorn hair. "I apologize to you, Bruck Chun. You are a fine bedmate, and deserve better than myself."

"Your highness!" Protest in Bruck's voice now. Obi-Wan sat back, silent, watching them.

"You deserve a place in the King's Guard-- I saw you take oath yesterday, unasked. I can no longer afford such pleasant sensual distractions." He let his genuine regret show in his eyes, holding Bruck's gaze. "If you wish to--"

"No." The word was spoken in tandem, and Qui-Gon blinked. Obi-Wan fell silent again, raising his brows in invitation for Bruck to continue.

"Your highness, if the threat is truly as great as it seems, you need me here more than you need me in the field. I can be eyes and ears in the palace."

Qui-Gon was peripherally aware of Obi-Wan nodding. "Perhaps after the crisis passes," Obi-Wan suggested.

"I would be most honoured to accept the position then. Should you still wish to offer it," Bruck hastened to add.

Qui-Gon clamped his hand on the boy's shoulder with genuine affection. "I have come to appreciate the value of honesty over simpering. You may speak your mind with me, in fact I demand that you do." He looked over at Obi-Wan, reading genuine pleasure in the monk's eyes. It made him feel good and he realized he was going to have to control the impulse to make choices based on what he felt would most please his bodyguard.

Obi-Wan would not thank him for such actions. Indeed his monk would chide him and remind him that it was his duty to serve the country, not himself nor any other individual.

"Well," he said, feeling suddenly awkward, in bed with the man he loved and his lover, all three of them naked. "Perhaps we should start the day."

To his surprise it was Obi-Wan who shook his head. "We must preserve the illusion until Sira has been and gone. Or perhaps..." Obi-Wan's forehead creased as he concentrated. "Perhaps we could be in the midst of an argument as she comes in, resulting in Bruck being thrown out. That would explain why he will no longer warm your bed and maybe Sira would believe she had an ally in him."

"Do you think she'd confide in me?" asked Bruck.

"If you played the jilted lover looking for solace," mused Qui-Gon.

Bruck made a face and Qui-Gon raised one eyebrow in query. "Not that fond of women," mumbled Bruck, pinking around his ears. "But I could make an exception for you, my lord."

Qui-Gon couldn't stop that chuckle that rumbled up but managed to turn it into a cough. "Thank you," he intoned solemnly.

"Do I get to know why she would need an ally? Why you don't trust her?"

It was Obi-Wan who answered. "It would be better if you did not. You will be safer not knowing and if she does choose to confide in you, your reactions will be honest."

Bruck's eyes narrowed. "Something bad then." He shook his head. "Your highness, Sira has always been a lightskirt, and it does not surprise me that--"

"Hst." Obi-Wan reached out and caught Bruck's arm, silencing him. "You dare think that a stable boy has precedence over me in the prince's bed?"

Bruck blinked, then fell into the charade rapidly. "I think that you've spent so much time being afraid of your own dick that you'll never learn to use it!" He jerked his arm out of Obi-Wan's hand.

"Bruck. Obi-Wan!" Qui-Gon rumbled a deep threat.

"You're jealous because you've worn your own to a nub you... you..." Sira was pushing the door open a crack, almost silently, but not putting her head in yet, and Obi-Wan flailed for a suitable insult with an untrained tongue. "...girl!"

Bruck slapped him; Obi-Wan could have evaded the strike but judged it better not to. The hardworking lad had a strong arm, and it made his head ring.

"No more of that!" Qui-Gon caught Bruck's arm, and Obi-Wan lunged at Bruck perforce, keeping half an eye on the door. "I'll see to it you're never summoned to his bed again, slut." The words had an alarming taste of satisfaction to them. He cuffed Bruck. "Get out!"

"But your highness!" Bruck whined.

"Return to the stables, boy, until you learn respect for your betters." Qui-Gon let go of Bruck's arm. "If your insolence continues, we'll have you back up here and teach you Sira's job, and you can be a maid instead of tending the horses!"

Sniveling quite credibly, Bruck squirmed out of bed and snatched his breeches. Sira slipped in as he yanked them on, and lowered her head, curtsying toward the bed. "How may I serve you this morning, your highness and milord?"

"Breakfast," Qui-Gon snapped. "And see to it that this useless chit returns to his dunghill!"

PART 89

The silence after Sira pattered away in Bruck's wake hung uncomfortably over both their heads.

"Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon sighed after a moment. "I know you meant well, and I appreciate your efforts on my behalf." He wished he could touch his bodyguard as he'd touched Bruck, stroke his face or his hair. "But I believe I would prefer to choose my own bed partners in the future."

Obi-Wan reddened. "I stepped beyond my bounds. I'm sorry."

Qui-Gon smiled a little, softening the sting. "You did what you believed best, and it has gained us a valuable ally. All is well."

Obi-Wan nodded. "As near as can be hoped, anyway. Sira watched for some time before she came in. We will have to be vigilant, and extend our pretenses."

Qui-Gon swallowed. "I know you aren't looking forward to that. Perhaps we acted hastily in dismissing Bruck."

"I will do my duty." Obi-Wan's expression was opaque, and Qui-Gon sighed.

No point in trying to pursue that line of conversation further; the monk would do just as he pleased and talking about it was only prolonging the embarrassment for them both. "After we finish our breakfast, we should join the court in the dining hall," Qui-Gon mused. "I don't want to delay the proposal any longer than necessary."

Obi-Wan pulled out his remaining uniform. "I'll need to get another habit," he commented as he slipped on the simple linen leggings. Qui-Gon couldn't stop the soft sound of disappointment as that sweet bottom was covered and Obi-Wan turned to him, eyebrows raised in query.

Clearing his throat, Qui-Gon took a good long look at the taut abdomen and finely muscled chest before speaking. "I'm sure Adi can duplicate the uniform and we've plenty of simple cloth to chose from."

Obi-Wan inclined his head and then put on his tunics, hiding away the treasure of his body. Qui-Gon cleared his throat. "Bring me something as well."

Obi-Wan turned his attention back to the clothes that hung in the wardrobe, hand moving over them. Qui-Gon sat back, curious as to what his bodyguard would choose for him.

Pulling out a garment, Obi-Wan returned to him and Qui-Gon huffed in surprise. "That?" he asked, eyeing the flamboyant red silk blouse and tight black leather leggings that Obi-Wan brought. It was not the choice he would have imagined his monk would make.

"People will see you in it and imagine that you are nothing more than a peacock, strutting around with his tail on display. Many will misjudge you, presume that you are all show and no substance. It wouldn't hurt our cause if you are believed to be the blatant dandy still."

"Is that what you thought, when you first came here?" Qui-Gon asked, not entirely comfortable with Obi-Wan's reasoning. Oh, the lad was right enough, but the role was one that was becoming more and more distasteful to him.

His bodyguard made no answer and Qui-Gon pushed. "Obi-Wan?"

"It was what you were," Obi-Wan said quietly. "All you cared to be."

Qui-Gon swallowed hard. The truth hurt, but with it came the balm of realizing Obi-Wan had spoken of it as though it were in the past. "And now?" He knew he sounded weak and needy, and he hated it.

Obi-Wan glanced up at him, eyes troubled. "Ask the nobles who bowed to you when your father rejected you," he suggested quietly. "That meant much, your highness. You have begun to earn their respect; this display is only to lull the foolish and the malicious."

"And what do you think?" He could not let it rest, worrying at his fear like a child worries at a badly scabbed wound.

"You are my prince," Obi-Wan answered simply. "I would not accept you as such if you were still the spoiled brat you seemed at our first meeting."

Qui-Gon swallowed in relief, reminding himself that if it was not the response he needed to hear, it was at least a true one-- and a fine one, one that he could point to with pride. A Jedi monk owed fealty to no one but his order. Still, he must not read too much into Obi-Wan's statement; Obi-Wan had made no oath of fealty and he probably meant only that he had accepted Qui-Gon as worthy of his protective efforts.

Sira's return startled him out of his thoughts; he accepted the tray she offered and shooed her away. Fully dressed now, Obi-Wan sat down on the bed and began to sample the meal cautiously. Qui-Gon got up to dress himself while his bodyguard was occupied.

"Add a cloak, something regal and celebratory," suggested Obi-Wan. "As befitting someone expecting to be made a father-in-law."

"If Palpatine suspects we know he is our enemy he will likely believe I'm taunting him."

But Obi-Wan was shaking his head. "If you act simply as the father of the potential groom, playing it up, he won't know for sure whether that is all you are or whether you are deliberately attempting to thwart his plans. I think off balance is the best we can expect from Palpatine at the moment."

"And the worst?" he asked lightly, wondering if Obi-Wan's thoughts would match his own.

"He will step up his attacks. We must be more diligent than ever, my prince." Qui-Gon nodded and dressed quickly.

"The food is safe," Obi-Wan told him and Qui-Gon sat on the bed with a sigh. He wasn't hungry and he was tired, heart weary, but he needed the sustenance, needed to soldier on so that they could put this threat behind them. So he ate.

Obi-Wan nibbled from Qui-Gon's bowls instead of dishing up his own and it made Qui-Gon smile to see the return of this practice. It might only be fodder for their pretence of being lovers, but to Qui-Gon it spoke of an easy intimacy that he hoped to see continue.

A knock on the door interrupted the end of their meal and Obi-Wan answered it, his hand on his sword hilt. It proved to be the chamberlain. "Everything is in order for the proposal, your highness. Palpatine and Amidala are both in attendance."

"Very well, let us go and have this done."

Qui-Gon could feel Obi-Wan following closely at his heels as they proceeded down toward the main banqueting hall, where the company awaited their arrival. He felt a flutter of nervousness on his son's behalf, and quashed it firmly. Anakin could refuse, if he chose. This would not be an echo of Qui-Gon's own loveless betrothal and union.

He extended his arm for Obi-Wan to take, as though he were escorting a lady into the hall, and Obi-Wan slipped his hand into the crook of Qui-Gon's elbow with a passably coquettish air. They marched in regally, and Qui-Gon was aware of every eye turning to study them, some with admiration, all with speculation. He seated Obi-Wan automatically and remained standing himself, pausing and letting the tension in the hall grow.

"I have joyous tidings to share with the land today." Qui-Gon gazed around expectantly, trying to decide how many people looked nervous. "My father has expressed concern with his grandson's schooling, perhaps for fear that he may become bookish and disinclined to choose a mate, or at least, a feminine one," he gave Obi-Wan a besotted look, and a low titter passed through the hall. "So to ease my father's fears and provide for continuation of the noble Jinn line, it is my intention to offer my son's hand in marriage to the lovely Amidala, who will one day be duchess of her own estates, and I hope, Queen of our fine land." He beamed idiotically.

A roar of voices rose in the room, excited babble, and Qui-Gon met a few sharp, calculating looks from among the throng-- both from men and women, especially the fathers and mothers of girls Anakin's age-- and also from Valorum's closest allies. Some seemed pleased, others disappointed... but Valorum's friends looked relieved.

Amidala sat quite still in her chair, a spoon of boiled oats halfway to her lips, her face pale. Palpatine sat at her side, his face dark and ugly as a thundercloud. Amidala dropped her spoon; the motion from her and the soft clatter penetrated to the crowd, which silenced in waves, like ripples spreading from a pebble dropped in water.

She pushed back her stool and stood, body slim and regal, her chin lifted. "Your highness, Prince Qui-Gon." Her voice was low and pleasant, just barely vibrating with restrained excitement. "I am honored to accept the offer of your son's hand."

The room exploded again, and Qui-Gon smiled, extending a paternal hand to her in invitation. She walked quite steadily toward the dais where he stood next to Obi-Wan, not looking to the right or left.

Qui-Gon cleared his throat impatiently, silencing the crowd again with some difficulty, and took her hand. "I am honored by your acceptance, and I am sure my son will be equally pleased." He looked her in the eye. "As of this moment, you are a member of my family. I will provide your care and supervision until you and my son come of age to be wed."

Amidala smiled very faintly, the slightest curve of the corners of her mouth. "I am grateful, Your Highness." Holding his hand, she dipped in a half-curtsey.

Qui-Gon surveyed the crowd once more, passing lightly over Palpatine, who looked as though he'd swallowed a live coal. "I go now to present to my father his new granddaughter. Come, Obi-Wan." Together, they swept from the room.

PART 90

Cold metal bites into my hand and I look down, surprised to see blood against my skin. My blood. I let go of the knife I have been holding crushed within my palm.

My gaze returns again to the whelp and his bastard monk as Amidala reaches them. She curtsies and says something, but I cannot hear her, I have not heard anything since the proposal of marriage offered to my ward. MY ward. She is mine just as her lands are, just as this castle is, as the crown that sits on that old toad's head should be, will be.

My teeth hurt from the effort of not letting my anger spill out over them. I would crush them with my words, with my very thoughts, bring these walls down upon them and bury them forever in its rubble. Their faces would be white with death and gray with dust.

But I cannot rule from rubble, can I, my beauty.

I watch them leave, walking out together as if she were already his daughter by marriage. It seems I have underestimated the prince. He has a brain after all; it must be the influence of his little monk that he is learning to use it now.

She was to be my queen, but perhaps I am better off without her. Who needs a queen when I have you, my beauty? You shall be my queen -I shall rule you for all of my days, never have you known a master like me and you shall revel in it.

It is time to step up my plans, for you are waiting for me so patiently and I will not make you wait any longer. If the prince will not die, I shall have to crush him another way. I shall do it for you, my beauty, do it to prove my devotion, my love, my right as your lord and master.

Qui-Gon Jinn, you have humiliated me. Gloat well on your moment of triumph, for it is the last you will have. I will take everything you love and I will destroy it, starting with your precious catamite and finishing with your son and your throne. When I am finished with you, prince Qui-Gon, you will not rule so much as a dung heap.

Won't that be a fitting punishment for him, my beauty?