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The Fire They Bear

by Cori Lannam

Title: The Fire They Bear
Author: Cori Lannam
Pairing: Qui-Gon/Obi-Wan
Rating: NC-17
Archive: MA only

Summary: While guarding the wedding ceremony of a king to a princess, Qui-Gon begins to re-evaluate his decision to delay making Obi-Wan his lover.

Disclaimer: If you think I own Star Wars, or any tiny part of it, you have obviously not seen my bank account.

Author's notes: This story was originally published in the wonderful zine Songs of Innocence, Songs of Experience. Someone reminded me today that I never did post it here after it timed out. No wonder my life felt so incomplete.

All feedback is gratefully accepted - I love hearing what you liked and didn't like!

"Love and hatred are not blind, but are blinded by the fire they bear within themselves."
Friedrich Nietzsche

Nothing answered him except the low rumble of the subspace engines and the faint, even breaths of his sleeping apprentice. Qui-Gon brushed his fingertips through the spikes of mussed hair on the top of Obi-Wan's head, which had migrated onto Qui-Gon's pillow during the night. He could not bring himself to mind, no more than he could bring himself to mind the way the length of Obi-Wan's body warmed his left side from shoulder to ankle.

"Obi-Wan. I know you can hear me. It is time to wake up."

This time he received the slightest creasing of Obi-Wan's brow in response. He stroked his thumb over the faint lines until he provoked the verbal response he was looking for. "Stop. It isn't time."

"Yes, my padawan, it is."

Obi-Wan shifted closer, ducking his face into the crook of Qui-Gon's neck to escape the teasing fingers. "We aren't there yet. We only dropped out of hyperspace half an hour ago."

He was glad to see Obi-Wan's awareness of his surroundings, sleeping or waking, had developed to such an acuity. It would not buy his padawan an extra measure of sleep, however. "Up, Obi-Wan. Come and join me."

"I would like nothing better." Obi-Wan smiled, and with a drowsy muzziness Qui-Gon knew full well to be feigned, he tilted his head just enough to bring his mouth against Qui-Gon's. He kept nearly still, a light pressure against the bristle of Qui-Gon's beard, and Qui-Gon allowed the liberty.

Obi-Wan grew bolder and pressed closer, lips parting in an attempt to gain entrance; Qui-Gon pulled back, but with a smile. "And I would like nothing better, my Obi-Wan, but the time has not yet come."

"Someday, my master," Obi-Wan said, and was off the bunk past Qui-Gon in one smooth movement. "Someday, I will truly catch you off your guard, and then I will have you."

"I don't doubt it. Someday." Still smiling, Qui-Gon knelt on the floor of their cabin, ignoring his knees' reminder than he was no longer as resilient as the young man who sank down beside him. "Now, center yourself and connect with the Force. We have a long day ahead."

"Another wedding," Obi-Wan muttered even as he closed his eyes. "Hysterical parents, murderous political rivals, confetti flying everywhere."

"Bored already, Padawan?"

"Never, Master."

He considered a lecture on the importance of their presence on one of the few worlds that still honored the Force and the Jedi in their religious ceremonies, but dismissed it as unnecessary distraction. Obi-Wan already knew the complex political situation on Abshier perfectly well. He knew the personal dynamics as well, and that would prove enough distraction as it was.

The transport glided down into the vast canopy of leaves, through which the tallest spires of Abshi barely emerged. The wide, round leaves played against the outer hull, glittering against the front viewscreen; Qui-Gon reached out into the Force and listened to their tinkling music until the ship emerged from the canopy.

They descended in a slow arc around one vast tree trunk, angling between two others to reach the landing platform. The platform, like the rest of the city of Abshi, was suspended hundreds of meters above the forest floor, built around and into the giant columns of the trees. They circled around the royal palace in approach to its private landing pad, and Obi-Wan leaned forward to study the structure.

"I understand they use no anti-gravity devices in their architecture," he murmured, eyes probing the junctures of trees and buildings. "Impressive."

"We have arrived, Master Jedi," the captain announced a moment after Qui-Gon felt their motion cease.

"Thank you, Captain. We will disembark at once." He drew his robe around his body, flipping the sleeves over his hands, but keeping his head uncovered. They had no cause to intimidate their welcoming party, certainly not on a planet actively friendly to the Jedi.

Obi-Wan followed suit, then followed Qui-Gon down the ramp onto the wide translucent platform. The leaves still chimed far above them, and Qui-Gon let the music tease the background of his thoughts as he strode toward the small group of figures awaiting them. Five of them stood at the end of the runway, three men and two women, all stately in robes of nearly identical elegance.

None of them wore any adornments to mark their rank, but it was easy to detect the royal presence among them. The tallest of the men, grey-haired and sturdy, had a kingly bearing both in body and in the Force. He wore his simple blue robes as though they were bejeweled, and he met their gaze with steady confidence.

Qui-Gon stopped directly in front of him. "Your Majesty. I am Qui-Gon Jinn. This is my apprentice, Obi-Wan Kenobi."

The man smiled and bowed deeply, the rest of his entourage following suit. Qui-Gon made a shallower bow in return, Obi-Wan an instant behind him. "I am Ander Garal, monarch of Abshier. Your presence greatly honors my city and my world, Master Jedi."

"We are honored as well, Highness. Abshier is an ancient friend of our Order."

A smile broke out over Garal's broad face, banishing his solemn formality. "And I must admit, I have personal reasons to rejoice in your coming, even beside my gratitude for your protection and the sanctity you bring to my wedding."

"Your nephew was taken to Coruscant for Jedi training," Obi-Wan said, and Qui-Gon raised an eyebrow. Obi-Wan had done his research after all, it seemed, and better than his master. "He was recently apprenticed to Master Ja-Woon."

"Indeed he was." Garal beamed even wider. "A proud day for our family."

A change, at least, from last month, when Qui-Gon had to wrest an acutely Force-sensitive, but wildly squalling baby from his hysterical mother's arms. He had borne the marks of her nails on his face until they returned to the Temple; Obi-Wan had made a valiant effort to neither laugh nor scold. He had been only partially successful.

"Another proud day is nearly upon you, Highness," he said as they turned toward the palace, Garal's small bevy of staff falling in behind them. "The Supreme Chancellor asked me to give you his best wishes and congratulations on your nuptials."

"Thank you, thank you." Garal led them away from the towering grand entrance to the palace and through a smaller door set a short way past it. He did not skip or jump, but Qui-Gon sensed his eruption of joy at the mention of his wedding as clearly as if the king had shouted aloud. "I hope you will meet my darling Minaya soon. In the meantime, I offer the poor consolation of meeting some of my ministers, instead."

They entered a wide and tall room with windows that stretched from floor to ceiling. The sunlight spilling through the glass refreshed Qui-Gon's senses, although it had faded many of the furnishings beyond their age. He liked this room; he liked the man who clearly chose to use it above the other, more grandiose spaces such a palace must offer.

He turned his focus to the other occupants of the room, who were rising from their seats in the central conversational area to greet their monarch. Two men and two women, all of whom exuded weariness, and one of whom practically vibrated with relief when she spotted the two Jedi. She was a tall woman in the brown and green uniform of the Abshi military; grey hairs flecked her temples, although her face was still unlined. Qui-Gon suspected many of those grey hairs had appeared since the king had announced his engagement, although her ramrod straight posture would betray no anxiety to anyone not looking in the Force.

"Master Jedi, I am pleased to introduce you to the people who truly run Abshier," Garal said, dismissing his other attendants with a nod. "Lord Bay, Mayor of Abshi. Lord Mungot, Minister of Planetary Relations. Senator Grismere, who arrived from Coruscant mere hours before you did. And the most important of them all, Colonel Dunnas, chief of the Abshi security force and my own guardian spirit."

Qui-Gon returned each bow, injecting special respect for Colonel Dunnas, whose relief he had sensed at their entrance. Her life would certainly be unenviable, given the high security risks of this ceremony. "Colonel, I believe we have a great deal to talk about."

"Yes, Master Jedi, we do indeed," she answered. "I feel a great deal better already, knowing we have two Jedi here."

"You worry too much, Levia," Garal said. "All will be well."

"The people pay me to worry, Sire," she returned. "I only want to be certain they get their credits' worth."

Qui-Gon sat on the low couch across from her. "Tell us your troubles."

She returned his grim smile. "They are legion."

"Are the Mezca prefects still protesting the wedding?" Obi-Wan asked.

"Of course," Senator Grismere said. "The outcry has actually gotten worse since my last report to the Senate. The prefects rail every night on the cross-continental broadcasts against any approach to political union between the Mezca and greater Abshier."

"They think I mean to drag them back into the dark ages with my mindless reliance on the superstitious nonsense of the Force," Garal interrupted with a hint of royal petulance. He waved a hand to indicate their airy surroundings. "Do these look like dark ages to you?"

"Has there been any movement toward bringing the Mezca under Abshi rule?" Qui-Gon asked. Normally he would have heard it in the Senate if there had been, but he had been away a great deal lately, and wedding day politics were subtle and prone to rapid change.

"No, nothing official," Grismere said. "But the Mezca see the marriage of their princess as the first step on the path to inevitable total Abshi domination, whether we intend it or not."

"But you do intend it?" Obi-Wan lifted his eyebrows, and Qui-Gon felt the flicker of his amusement. Needling politicians had become Obi-Wan's favored pastime on recent missions, though his needling of his master had not shown any proportional decrease.

"It has always been inevitable," Grismere replied stiffly.

Garal stood and paced with sharp turns in front of his chair. "But it has nothing to do with our marriage. That is a personal matter between Minaya and me."

A naïve statement, but sincere, Qui-Gon judged. The engagement of the Abshi king and the Mezca princess had become famous in the galactic gossip circles as a love match, regardless of the political complications surrounding it. So far, Qui-Gon had no reason to doubt the truth of that, at least on Garal's part. "When does the Mezca royal family arrive?"

"Early tomorrow morning," Colonel Dunnas replied. "Five hours exactly before the ceremony. But our real worries begin well before that."

"I will engage in solitary meditation in the Old Temple from dusk until dawn tonight." Garal sat abruptly and returned the colonel's glare. "The tradition of my forefathers for a hundred generations. She's been on me for weeks to cancel it."

"Or at least let me send protection."

"Then it would hardly be solitary, would it?"

She turned to Qui-Gon. "I had hoped that perhaps the presence of a Jedi would be acceptable."

Qui-Gon looked off into the middle distance, aware of the roomful of anxious eyes on him. In his lengthy experience, the presence of one person or a thousand made no difference to the Force; people, however, liked their rituals as they were. "I cannot see how my presence would disrupt your purification."

A collective sigh rippled around the room; even Garal looked relieved. "Then I should be more than happy for the company of a Jedi Master while I seek the wisdom of the Force."

"In the meantime, Obi-Wan and I will examine the rest of your security protocols."

Colonel Dunnas nodded. The king rose and waved a hand in dismissal to the others in the room.

"The Mezca are a highly pacifistic people," Dunnas said. She touched a control on her belt, and one of the high windows darkened and blossomed into a display of the planet and surrounding space. "The idea of a terrorist or assassin coming from within the Mezca is absurd even to the most vitriolic of prefects."

"We have seen absurd assassins before," Obi-Wan noted.

"I don't deny the possibility that some may try, but I find it unlikely that any would have the skill to get past our security measures."

"Even the ability to commit violent acts is for those of us less enlightened." Garal gestured up at the orbiting blips that represented the Abshier planetary defense system and naval fleet. "Though our defenses protect them as well. They've never seemed to have a problem with that."

Dunnas nodded toward a corner of the display where a bald, wrinkle-faced man ranted to his unseen audience. "The most volatile prefects have been calling for Mezca citizens to hire off-world bounty hunters. This is somewhat more concerning. We've started monitoring off-planet communications from the Mezca regions, but that system is far from foolproof."

Qui-Gon exchanged a brief glance with his apprentice; they had had several encounters recently with the upper echelon of the Coruscant-based bounty hunters. While he had never respected their profession, he had no choice but to respect their skill at it. He hoped that the good citizens of the Mezca regions of Abshier had limited disposable incomes, or they could have a much bigger problem than he had thought.

"You can see the net we've established around the planet. All the space lanes have been blocked in all directions." Dunnas traced her hand over the display showing the cordon. "Your ship was the first besides Senator Grismere's that has been allowed through in weeks, and no one else will get through until his Majesty and his bride are safely wed and ensconced in the palace once more."

"Where we will remain until the entire galaxy is united in unbreakable peace and harmony, if Colonel Dunnas has her way about it."

"Yes, your Majesty," she replied with serenity worthy of a Jedi.

Qui-Gon smiled, but inwardly he did not feel as serene himself. The blockade swathed the planet in an impressive blanketing of sensors, ships, and guns, but the best bounty hunters had a way with blockades. They had specially-outfitted vessels; they knew how to trick sensors; if all else failed, they knew how to stow away on legitimate craft - even Senatorial transports.

"Master Jedi, do you wish to see the wedding site?"

"If you please, Colonel." He nodded and rose to follow her, Obi-Wan falling in beside him. They had work to do before he could indulge himself in a night of meditation.

"They seem as well-prepared as they can be, Master." Obi-Wan touched his fingertips to the door of the balcony in the rooms they had been given for the night. It turned translucent, then red with the light of the setting sun filtered through the trees. "Although I could wish that the ceremony was not taking place outdoors."

Qui-Gon agreed in theory, although in practice he had found that a skilled assassin could function equally well in almost any surroundings. "They have the force fields around the platform, and the hoverdrones in the trees," he noted, then let his mouth quirk upwards. "And us, of course."

Not so long ago, Obi-Wan might have rolled his eyes and sighed, but now he returned the half-grin. "Of course. Nonetheless."

"You have misgivings."

"Only a feeling."

Qui-Gon nodded as he came up beside Obi-Wan. He sought his own instincts as they watched the dusk fade the sparkle from the dancing leaves. His apprentice's feelings occasionally resulted more from a bad mood than the counsel of the Force, but more often than not they were keenly accurate. Qui-Gon had learned to dismiss them at his own peril. "What do you sense, Padawan?"

"Impending disaster, of course." The corner of Obi-Wan's mouth twitched again before breaking into a real smile. "Though it is possible I'm simply paranoid, since it took almost two standard weeks to get the punch stains out of my clothes after the last wedding we attended."

The memory brought a smile to Qui-Gon as well: Obi-Wan, covered braid to boots in desserts that had looked better on their trays before Obi-Wan had chased a would-be abductor right through them. Then, in the moment of his victory, the groom's mother had upturned an entire vessel of bright pink punch over Obi-Wan's head, furious that he had ruined the reception. "That was a marvelous wedding. The soup was excellent, as I recall."

"Yes, I remember you sitting there, eating soup, while the Lady Reen beat me over the head with her walking stick like I was a six-year-old initiate."

A chuckle rose in Qui-Gon's throat at the image of the tall, reed-like woman smacking Obi-Wan's shoulders, and then Obi-Wan's semi-sincere contrition after his lightsaber made twigs out of her cane and sent her screaming from the room. He tried to swallow it down, then gave up and let the laughter burst out.

"Yes, it was funny for you," Obi-Wan said, but he was still grinning himself, and he leaned into the arm Qui-Gon wrapped around his shoulders.

They stood in the quiet together, watching the last of the sun fade into the first of the stars. Qui-Gon found himself touching Obi-Wan's hair, his fingers trailing down the braid to brush against warm skin. Obi-Wan held very still, as though to avoid drawing Qui-Gon's attention to what he was doing and making him stop. He supposed he should stop, and soon time would force him to it. But when his hand stilled, it remained against Obi-Wan's neck, braid still tangled between his fingers.

Obi-Wan tilted his head minutely toward Qui-Gon's hand. "What do you think of this marriage, Master?"

It took him a moment to discern which marriage Obi-Wan actually meant. "I think that, as the Senator said, it was inevitable."

"I don't mean politically." Obi-Wan shifted his stance. The movement was slight, but now his body pressed to Qui-Gon's side, and Qui-Gon felt warm breath on his jaw. "Do you think it is truly a love match?"

"I cannot read people's hearts, Obi-Wan."

He received a snort in return. "Of course you can. You always tell me to look through the Force and into the person."

"And you've learned that all too well when it suits you," Qui-Gon said with mock annoyance. One day Obi-Wan had looked into Qui-Gon's heart to find the answers Qui-Gon would never have given him in words; every day since that one had been a trial in control, one he was slowly failing.

"Master."

Qui-Gon brushed Obi-Wan's neck one more time, then stepped back. "I believe Garal's feelings are real and deep. I cannot make any conclusions about his bride until I meet her. Even my perceptions are not so keen as that."

"It's good that you can admit to your limits." Obi-Wan smiled, then turned again to look out at the stars. "But you think it could be real."

"Yes. I suspect that it is."

"Even with the difference in their ages? Even though she is younger than I am? And he is nearly as old as you?"

"Obi-Wan." The warning in his tone was half-hearted; he knew it, and he knew Obi-Wan did, too. "You will always push whatever boundaries I set."

"Yes," Obi-Wan replied simply.

Qui-Gon let out a tiny sigh. The trees still chimed outside; Obi-Wan's presence weighed heavy in his senses. His many good reasons for refusing Obi-Wan again and again seemed light years away from this moment. And when Obi-Wan turned to him and stepped close, looking at him without artifice, he did not draw back, but met Obi-Wan's kiss.

They stood together, almost completely still, for some time, mouths brushing together in cautious exploration. Their bodies touched nowhere but their lips, which never lost contact until Qui-Gon at last did step back. His hand came up to cup Obi-Wan's cheek and jaw, stopping his noise of protest.

"I must go. The king is already expecting me," he said. "But in the morning, we will talk again."

Obi-Wan's lips, which strangely looked no different now that Qui-Gon had thoroughly kissed them, curled upward. "We'll do more than talk in the morning."

"We will talk in the morning," Qui-Gon repeated firmly. "And we will let the afternoon take care of itself."

He walked away to the music of the trees and Obi-Wan's laughter in the Force.

"Master Jedi." Garal awaited him in the doorway to the inner sanctuary of the Temple, stripped of all adornment except a simple brown robe. He bowed deeply as before. "Thank you for keeping me company tonight."

"It is both my duty and my pleasure, your Majesty," Qui-Gon said, and meant it. He had done far more unpleasant things to help those under his protection; he liked Garal a great deal, and doubted that his company would be a burden. He followed the king into the sanctuary where two thin mats had been placed in the center of the otherwise open and empty chamber. Behind them, he heard the doors clang shut, then the tromp of the sentries' boots as they left to guard the outer Temple gate.

"The history of our peoples, Abshi and Mezca alike, is inscribed in this room." As they strolled the perimeter of the chamber, Garal waved his hand at the flowing script and images whirling in complex patterns over the walls and columns. "Our stories have always been intertwined, more than any of us have wanted to admit for a long time."

"Future panels will have an even more interesting pattern, I suspect." Qui-Gon traced a whorl of script with his finger; the alien letters glittered even in the soft light of the overhead panels.

"We'll have to expand the building, if Minaya and I have our way." Garal laughed, and Qui-Gon smiled. The man's joy in his bright future was infectious, enough that Qui-Gon hoped more than usual that Obi-Wan's portents of doom were uncalled for.

He stood back in the shadow of a column while Garal performed the first stage of his ritual at the far end of the sanctuary. Garal touched a stylized moon on the wall, and somewhere in the Temple a heavy bell tolled. He continued touching images and words on the wall with no further audible results, save for the murmur of the king's voice in his native tongue.

The ritual called upon the blessing of the Force in ways that were un-Jedi and, in Qui-Gon's opinion, unnecessary. But the man seemed proud to demonstrate his sacred tradition before a Jedi, and Qui-Gon was happy to participate by his presence. Only a small part of him wished he were back with Obi-Wan, having the conversation he had avoided for so long.

It was a conversation sure to be difficult, for even if Qui-Gon agreed to move forward with their relationship, there were still rules he had to set, and he had to be sure Obi-Wan would obey them. His padawan had little experience in the ways of love, and he tended to assume that love could conquer all obstacles.

Qui-Gon believed that as well, but he was well aware of the burden he carried in the relationship. A romance between master and padawan was no simple thing, and the first step had to be taken with great care. Nonetheless, he yearned for that first step with all of his heart, more than eager to walk that road.

The ritual came to an end when Garal abruptly shucked off his robe and turned around, stark naked. Qui-Gon could not help raising an eyebrow.

"This is why the meditation is solitary," Garal said with a cheerful sigh as he moved toward the mats in the center of the chamber and dropped to his knees with a wince. "Don't worry, you aren't required to match my dress."

"I am thankful." Qui-Gon knelt down on the mat opposite the king, drawing his robe close around him.

"Wouldn't want to be rude and put my guest to shame, after all." Garal's laugh boomed out to echo between the bare walls.

Qui-Gon considered mentioning that shame was an emotion he rarely contemplated, to the occasional chagrin of the Jedi High Council. Instead he closed his eyes and sank into light meditation. While his mind rested, his senses remained alert to the sounds and energy around the Temple.

Not as accustomed as a Jedi to disciplining his body and mind, Garal occasionally shifted and coughed as the hours passed. He was a distraction, though not as distracting as the memory of Obi-Wan's eyes the instant before they kissed. Qui-Gon wondered if the distraction would ease or worsen once they became lovers in body as well.

At last Qui-Gon opened his eyes and smiled to see the king now sitting cross-legged, staring down at the slight paunch of his belly with a look of woe. "I'm supposed to be reflecting on my commitment to my future wife and our duty to Abshier," he remarked when Qui-Gon looked at him. "But all I can do is wonder what Minaya will think when she sees me naked."

"Not an uncommon worry for bridegrooms of any age or station." Nor indeed for Jedi, he thought, with an internal sigh. Jedi abnegation of personal vanity was largely formulaic. It was just as well that Obi-Wan could have no illusions in that regard; at least there was one benefit to the prospect of taking one's apprentice as a lover.

"Most bridegrooms in this day and age have long since dispensed with the issue." Garal frowned down at his legs and wiggled his toes. "Alas, our love is chaste and must remain so until it is too late for her to think better of her bargain."

"Does she love you?" The question sounded rhetorical, deliberately so, but Qui-Gon had true curiosity about it. Garal's devotion stood out in the Force, a solid bulwark around which his insecurities flickered without power.

"She says she does, and of course I believe her, or else I wouldn't be marrying her." The king spoke with clear eyes, and Qui-Gon had no trouble believing that beauty and politics were secondary or even tertiary to this man who had waited late in life to find love. "But I suspect you are asking me something more than that."

"You are Force sensitive." It was only half a question, since Qui-Gon was fairly sure of the answer already. The Order searched on Abshier regularly, and as a baby decades before, Ander Garal had passed every test, although there had been no question of him abdicating his throne to train as a Jedi.

"Yes. Minaya is as well, although her beliefs won't let her admit it." Garal grinned. "I learned quickly not to have that conversation around her parents."

One other benefit to bedding your padawan: you were, for all practical purposes, already your own in-law. "Then you already have your answers. What does your heart say?"

Garal's answering smile and joy threatened to blind Qui-Gon. "She loves me." He laughed and threw his hands in the air as though already tossing his own wedding blossoms. "I had a feeling you would know how to advise me."

"Did you? I did not think we Jedi were known for our great expertise in the ways of romantic love." Not to the general public, at least, he reflected, with the memory of Obi-Wan's sly touches tingling over his skin as they ever did.

"No, no, not as Jedi." Garal leaned forward, as though to draw him into a confidence or conspiracy. "I only meant that our positions are somewhat similar, with our beautiful and so tragically young loves. My Minaya, your Obi-Wan."

Qui-Gon stared at him, unable to reply for a long moment. Few things surprised him anymore, but Garal had just managed it on an impressive scale. He had detected no surveillance in their rooms, and outside those rooms they had allowed themselves no distracting words or glances, nothing that could have been misinterpreted by an observer. "I'm sorry, but I still don't understand your meaning."

"He is your lover, is he not? Or have I mistaken myself entirely?"

"No." Qui-Gon felt his mouth twitch with a surge of embarrassment. Jedi were not supposed to display such foibles. "And no. Not entirely."

"Hm. I suppose it's different for Jedi than for us mere mortals."

"It is." Not as different as Garal probably supposed, but different enough, in the way that all aspects of a life lived with the Force differed.

"But I'm gratified that my instincts, while they may not be Jedi-keen, aren't completely off the mark."

The hint of laughter in Garal's voice jabbed at the tiny place inside Qui-Gon that wanted to laugh himself with happy embarrassment. He allowed it another small smile and released it. "Tonight is about your future, my friend, not mine."

"Oh, but talking about you is much easier on my nerves." Garal shrugged and looked down at his belly again. "I am no handsome and powerful Jedi."

Qui-Gon shook his head with a surge of fondness for the man. Garal could hardly be termed unattractive, even by the standards of a young princess, and he had far more power by conventional reckoning than a humble Jedi Knight. Still, he found these small insecurities endearing, and somewhat reassuring in a man who otherwise ruled with a complete assurance that bordered on arrogance. "Do you think your Minaya will be looking at me tomorrow?"

"By all we both hold holy, I hope not," Garal exclaimed and slapped his knees, then quieted. "No, I know at whom she will look, and I know what she will see. I have no fear."

"Good," Qui-Gon said. "Fear is anathema to the light side of the Force, and every marriage should begin in the light."

"Let's get back to you. What does your Obi-Wan see when he looks at you?"

He remained silent, looking past Garal, unsure what or even whether he should answer. But some part of him wanted to answer, if only to know himself what the answer was. "His master," he said at last, slowly. "His teacher. His friend. The man he will have as his lover."

Garal tilted his head and lifted his eyebrows. "So, you aren't-"

"No."

"I really would have sworn that you-"

"No." He hesitated. The details of the story would be unseemly to share, but the flat denial sounded too close to a lie. "Not exactly."

"Ah. Again we come to your 'not exactly.'" Garal grinned as though Qui-Gon had revealed every secret for his amusement. "But you love him."

"Yes, of course."

"And yet?"

Qui-Gon thought for a moment, then closed his eyes and let the words simply come as they would. "I love Obi-Wan in many ways, which change as he does. When I look at him, I see the bright child he was when I met him. I see the serious young apprentice he is now, and I see the strong knight he will soon become. And I see the wise master he will be long after I am one with the Force. They are all Obi-Wan, man and Jedi, and I love them all."

Garal blinked several times before answering. "Yes," he said. "It's all perfectly clear to me now. So simple, really."

"Simpler than it sounds, I promise you," Qui-Gon said, with no intention of admitting how confused it had made him for a long time.

"So you can see the future?"

"Not in the way you mean. Future sight isn't my strongest gift. But all of our past and future selves exist in the Force and are within us every present moment. That is what the Force shows me."

"Then you know he is to be your lover?"

"Yes."

"And yet?" Garal's voice rose with a note of exasperation. "I'm assuming you're both quite willing. What are you waiting for?"

"There are many kinds of love between us," Qui-Gon answered. "My duty is to know when the time is right to leave one stage for the next."

Garal slapped his knees again, hooting with mirth. "Control the course of love! I had no idea that the Jedi had such discipline. But my friend, if I may be so bold as to advise a Jedi Master, be mindful not to miss your opportunity. None of us have lives as long as we'd wish, and I would not lose a moment I could have had with the one I love."

Obi-Wan had made the same argument, even more persuasively, that morning with his lips and hands. Qui-Gon fought back a shiver, but did not have to force his smile. "You are wise, your Majesty."

"So my courtiers always make a point of telling me." Somewhere in the Temple, a bell sounded, and the king looked up. "Dawn is upon us. And thanks to you, Master Jedi, I am neither dead nor fleeing the planet in a panicked frenzy."

Qui-Gon rose to stand; Garal clambered to his feet in a less fluid motion. "That much I am pleased to have done, though I'm afraid I have also managed to destroy the mystique of the Jedi tonight."

"Oh, not at all." Garal shook out his legs, limped back to where he had dropped his robe, picked it up and began pulling it back on. "But I admit I feel much better about my own situation now."

Qui-Gon did as well. Something had settled inside him, although he was not sure he could have articulated it. Perhaps it was Garal's steadfast faith in the importance of love above all else, and his belief that if one had love, all else would fall into place. Certainly he could not argue that Obi-Wan's presence in his life and heart had made him a better Jedi. The thought of spending his life with Obi-Wan, even separated as they must be by their duties to the Jedi Order, gave him an uncharacteristic longing for the future.

He let the matter turn in the back of his mind as they retraced their steps through the Temple and out into the pale light of daybreak. At the bottom of the stairs, the king's attendants waited. Obi-Wan stood with them, and his eyes locked with Qui-Gon's.

"The Mezca delegation will arrive three hours before noon," Garal told him a low voice. "I will be sequestered with my ministers until then, perfectly safe. Go to your lover. Even Jedi can't afford to waste their youth, you know."

He did not answer. Sensing no immediate danger, he surrendered his charge into the care of his people and tried to clear his mind.

Obi-Wan's eyes shone with a light that illuminated Qui-Gon as though he were glass.

Fear was anathema to the Force.

It was time to have that talk.

They said little of personal meaning for some time as they walked back to their room. Obi-Wan had spent the night touring the city with Colonel Dunnas, which required fewer intimate revelations than Qui-Gon had endured. Then again, Obi-Wan had less need of such revelations.

"I've found few obvious security risks, Master," Obi-Wan said as they strolled, arms folded and heads down, into the residential wing of the palace, the picture of perfect Jedi composure. "The ceremony will be on the platform just outside, between the palace and the Temple. They have a forcefield surrounding it which will block any air traffic during the wedding, and hoverdrones for surveillance in the trees throughout. Every guest will be thoroughly screened before admittance, and all the Mezca and Abshi guards have already been vetted."

"Did you look at their records?"

"Yes. None have been at their posts for less than ten years. It is unlikely that a bounty hunter could infiltrate." Obi-Wan's shoulders straightened and flexed, a clear alarm that something was bothering him. "No foreseeable security gaps exist, that I could find."

"And yet?" Qui-Gon pressed, borrowing Garal's favorite interrogatory turn of phrase.

"As always, it is the unforeseeable that worries me." Obi-Wan paused at the doorway to their room, his eyes unfocused.

"And you still have a bad feeling?" He opened the door and nudged his distracted apprentice in ahead of him, then answered his own question. "Of course you do."

"I will be wary, but not fretful. Yes, Master, I know." The words sounded more distant than petulant. Obi-Wan resumed his favorite spot at the window and looked out at the trees, pointedly leaving the first move to Qui-Gon.

He had thought they should talk, to work out the particulars of their relationship and make sure they were both ready for a new chapter in their story together. They should meditate together, seek the guidance of the Force, come to each other serene and balanced as Jedi.

Yet here he was, and all of his plans seemed entirely superfluous.

So he said nothing and instead let his eyes drift over Obi-Wan, seeing him as he was in this moment, all compact power and fiery grace. Training Obi-Wan had brought Qui-Gon purpose in his life; loving Obi-Wan brought him joy. Sometimes, as he had tried to tell Garal, love could be as simple as it seemed.

"My Obi-Wan," he murmured at last, savoring the transgression inherent in the words, in wanting to possess another person. The Jedi forbade that, but in this moment Qui-Gon could not see how it could be wrong to love Obi-Wan and claim him as his own.

Obi-Wan turned his head enough to look sidelong at Qui-Gon. "Am I?" he said, as if he were not quite sure, as though there were any room left for doubt.

"Yes." He moved next to Obi-Wan and held out his arms. His padawan came to him with a sigh that Qui-Gon felt gust against his ear and neck. "Your claim on my heart is near blasphemy."

Obi-Wan's laughter shook through him like wind in the leaves. "Oh, Master. If I don't care about blasphemy, why should you?"

He could think of no argument, no response other than to join with his own laughter. Then he gathered Obi-Wan tight against him, so that his heat soaked into Qui-Gon's every pore, and held him until the engines of the Mezca transports roared outside the windows.

The Mezca delegation, when at last it cleared the security scans and disembarked, was small but impressive. Their clothing was long and swirling, although more tailored than the typical Abshi robes, and they favored vivid reds and oranges as opposed to the shades of blue and green Garal and his people wore.

They stood out like the first dying leaves in a forest. From his place off to the side of the king's party, Qui-Gon could not glimpse the princess until the entourage parted with shuffling reluctance to let her approach her intended.

"My darling, darling girl." Garal stepped forward as a slender girl with a mass of pale hair emerged from the group. She seemed to vanish into his embrace as he gathered her close and swung her around. She was followed by one man, older than she was but younger than Garal, in a guard's uniform.

"My king," she replied, green eyes smiling up at him when he set her down. Qui-Gon probed the Force aura around her; he sensed fear, sadness, adoration of her lover. Everything he would expect from a young bride, and no immediate danger lurked around her.

He looked over at Obi-Wan, who had on his frown of foreboding. "Still?" he murmured.

"Worse," Obi-Wan replied. "Much worse. Something is very wrong."

"I sense nothing imminent."

"You will soon, I think."

"Check each of the Mezca. Make sure they are who they say they are," Qui-Gon said as Garal turned his bride toward them.

"My dear one," he said, steering her over. "I am most pleased to present to you Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn and his apprentice, Obi-Wan Kenobi. They honor us with their presence and will help keep you from any harm until we are safely married. Master Jedi, at last you meet my bride, the Princess Minaya of the Mezca."

The girl stiffened at the word "Jedi" and looked over her shoulder at the group of Mezca - specifically, Qui-Gon suspected, at the older couple almost hidden in the center of the group. He wondered what tales of Jedi superstition and sorcery they had taught their daughter.

She composed herself quickly. "Thank you, M-Master Jinn."

He bowed. "Congratulations on your wedding day, my lady."

"Thank you again." She glanced over her shoulder again, and Garal gave a chuckle that was half a sigh.

"Your parents will not want to greet our other honored guests, I think, but I suppose I should greet them. I apologize in advance, my friends, for the lack of introductions, but I strongly suspect the conversation won't get that far."

Minaya pressed his arm. "This is difficult, Ander. For all of us."

Her voice caught on the last words, and Qui-Gon felt fear curling through the Force and around his spine. "For your safety, my lady, Obi-Wan will stay with you until the ceremony." He smiled to ease her discomfort. "Despite our beliefs, you will find Obi-Wan formidable protection."

Obi-Wan bowed and stepped to her side before she could protest. "My lady."

She offered a hesitant nod, then turned her head. Behind her, the guard who had followed her from the ship stiffened his back. "This is Donar Caldin, my personal guard. Though of course your assistance is welcome also, Jedi Kenobi."

"Between them, no harm could possibly come to you, my love," Garal said and squeezed her around her waist. "At least, not until they deliver you into my evil clutches."

"And then who will protect me, my lord?" she said with a look from under lowered eyelashes, voice heavy with love and promise, heedless of the others present. She turned back toward her countrymen, and Qui-Gon hid a smile. Garal had, indeed, found his match.

Qui-Gon hung back to observe as they approached the Mezca king and queen - who were, together with the Abshi royal house, two of the few dynastic monarchs left in the Republic. He found their well-publicized criticisms of the religious entitlement to power of the Jedi amusing.

Fear, more than philosophy, was the basis of their hatred. Qui-Gon felt the fear ripple off them even before they spotted the Jedi, but their steps did not falter when they started toward the Abshi group. Their close-cut dark orange robes hardly seemed to shift as they returned the nods Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon offered and made the strictly proper obeisance to Garal in exchange for his bow.

"Welcome to Abshi," Garal said. "We've arranged-"

"We are aware of the arrangements," the other king cut in.

"Well, that relieves us of the pleasantries," Garal said, clapping his hands together. "Would you care for some refreshment, or would you prefer to go straight to the broadcast cameras and rail about my irrational religious fanaticism some more?"

"Enough!" Minaya's voice pitched and caught on a high note. She held up her hands between her parents and her betrothed. "Please. Not today."

"I'm sorry, lovely." Her father tried to catch her hands, but she stepped backwards to Garal's side. "But please, consider-"

"No, Father. No more." She turned her face away from him. "I have to get ready now. Mother?"

The queen lifted her hand. Three female attendants detached themselves from the entourage. "I assume you have prepared suitable accommodations for my daughter?"

"Everything that is mine, is hers," Garal said with another unacknowledged bow. "Or at least it will be in approximately an hour and a half. Colonel Dunnas will assign your security detail."

"We have our own security," the queen retorted, and three more Mezca stepped out from the general mass.

As the party grew larger, Qui-Gon exchanged a look of bemusement with his apprentice over the heads of queen and princess. One young Jedi more than exceeded the protective capabilities of all the assembled guards from both nations, and Qui-Gon would not have wagered much on the ability of anyone but a Jedi against the kind of bounty hunters both sides feared.

As it was, another dowsing in a punch bowl was beginning to seem the most likely outcome at the end of the day, to Obi-Wan's palpable dismay. At least the clumping of Minaya's attendants would give Obi-Wan the chance to thoroughly examine those Mezca who would be nearest the king.

"Your Highnesses," Obi-Wan finally interrupted, projecting both voice and Force presence to make them listen. "Your Highnesses, I am quite sure that a handful of people would suffice within the walls of the palace."

Most of the Mezca looked at him with open suspicion, but Colonel Dunnas spoke up first. "Agreed, Jedi Kenobi. The rest of us will be occupied in making sure the wedding site is cleared and secured."

"I would have thought that would be accomplished by now," the Mezca king said, but his voice held little heat, overlaid by a sense of great weariness and sorrow.

Qui-Gon nodded to Minaya as she at last departed with her maids, her guards, and Obi-Wan. At least the first, and arguably most difficult, obstacle had been overcome. They might have a wedding today after all.

"I really do have a strong sense that something is wrong, Master," Obi-Wan said under his voice when he rejoined Qui-Gon a few minutes before midday and a few steps from the altar where Minaya and Garal were to be wed.

The arching roof of trees above them rang with the sound of a thousand bells rejoicing, and the dappled sunlight sparked red in Obi-Wan's hair. Qui-Gon could not help but smile, despite the hundreds of elite Abshi citizens jostling for position in the cordoned viewing area.

"Have no fear, my padawan. I have determined the exact location of the drinks bar, and I will defend you with my life should it attack."

A brief crease of pain crossed Obi-Wan's brow. "Please, Master."

"I checked the Mezca vessels and found no bombs, weapons, or signs of sabotage. You've spoken to each of the princess's attendants?"

"Yes, Master. They are all who they say they are, and all have been with the Mezca royal family for over a decade." Obi-Wan shook his head as though trying to shake off his own doubts.

He gripped Obi-Wan's shoulder. "Be alert. Listen to the Force. Beyond that, enjoy the moment. We don't often get such pleasant duty as this."

"Yes, Master." Obi-Wan did not smile, but he did lean infinitesimally into Qui-Gon's grasp.

Above them, the leaf-music reached a new volume. Qui-Gon looked up and saw silent probes gliding between the branches, stirring their movements to greater intensity. "They're coming," Obi-Wan murmured a second before the palace doors behind them began their slow swing outward.

A Mezca prefect in a neat suit and an Abshi holy man in flowing robes emerged first, deep in animated conversation. They paid no attention to the crowd that pressed against the security barrier that kept them back from the altar area. "At least someone here gets along," Obi-Wan noted, then moved across to stand watch on the other side of the officiants.

When the prefect and holy man had been carefully ushered into position and quieted, Garal appeared in the entryway, flanked by his ministers and personal guards. His indigo robes shimmered and the ceremonial knife at his belt gleamed in the midday sun; none of it outshone his wide, exultant smile.

As he advanced across the platform, his attendants fell away to take their positions until he stood alone before the altar, a few feet away from Qui-Gon. The onlookers cheered, and Garal gave them their due acknowledgment - until there came one final stirring at the palace doors.

Even between her parents and surrounded by maids and guards, Minaya seemed to fill the doorway, resplendent in scarlet. Flowers filled her hands and hair; rubies blazed from her neck and wrists. A cheer rose up from the smaller Mezca section of the assembly; it spread slowly through the crowd as the Abshi took in the sight of their future queen. Nothing, Qui-Gon mused, promoted intraplanetary harmony like a beautiful princess marrying into the family.

This beautiful princess did not seem concerned with the warmth of the reception; her gaze stayed locked on her groom. Her fear still chilled the warm day. Qui-Gon wondered if she might be too young to marry after all, but looking at Garal seemed to steady her, and her measured steps never wavered. As she passed, Obi-Wan shifted uncomfortably. Qui-Gon listened in the Force, but still sensed nothing of imminent concern.

Minaya reached the altar without so much as a heckle or a misstep. Each of her parents took one of her hands. Without a word, they placed her hands in Garal's grasp, then turned away. The queen's shoulders shook almost imperceptibly as they found their places. No one but Qui-Gon was looking at her, rendering her effort at bravery unnecessary. Even Obi-Wan gazed with fixed eyes at her daughter as the ceremony began.

As the prefect spoke, Qui-Gon made a last, discreet visual survey to supplement their vigilance in the Force. Uniformed guards ringed the assembly, the Abshi uniforms far outnumbering the Mezca. Beyond them, a forcefield shimmered at the edge of the platform, blocking anything coming from the trees more substantial than the chime of the leaves.

"I pledge my loyalty, my fidelity, and my honor to you, from this moment until my death or yours," Minaya repeated in a softer echo of the prefect's loud voice.

Qui-Gon's gaze gravitated back to Obi-Wan; he found himself already being watched in return.

"I pledge to be your joy in victory, your comfort in defeat, your help in all things."

Obi-Wan's expression did not change, save for a tiny crinkle at the corner of his eyes. It shot more powerfully to Qui-Gon's heart than the broadest grin.

"Do you take these vows and bind yourself to this man of your own free will?"

"Yes."

The holy man raised his hands and took over the ceremony in an ancient, reedy voice. He gestured for Garal to remove the short knife from his belt and offer it to Minaya, giving up war for the peace of marriage and the home.

She looked at it with the customary Mezca distaste for weaponry of any kind, but she accepted it and hung it from her own belt in safe keeping. Then the holy man went on, and Garal repeated the quavering words in his own booming voice.

"By the Force that binds us all, I bind myself to thee. I shall walk with thee in the light, and we shall shun all darkness."

Qui-Gon wondered what his own face revealed as his padawan studied him from across the altar. Whatever it was, it must have pleased him, for his eyes seemed to shine brighter and his back straighten, even though not so much as a muscle twitched.

"Until we are one with the Force, I shall be one with thee."

Then Obi-Wan did smile, and Qui-Gon barely heard the roar of the crowd as Garal slid a ring onto Minaya's finger and placed a crown on her head. The king and queen of Abshier were safely wed at last.

"Punch, Padawan?"

"You are an endless source of amusement, Master."

Qui-Gon smiled and put down the goblet with its fizzing pink contents. "I believe the evening is nearing its end at last."

"Indeed, you are most correct, Master Qui-Gon." Garal, who had partaken of a fair amount of the punch, came up behind them and clapped a hand on Qui-Gon's shoulder with the familiarity of the joyously inebriated. "I think I have made significant small talk with every dignitary here, major and minor. Now, I must plan my escape."

"You have only to extract your bride from her parents."

Qui-Gon glanced sidelong at Obi-Wan, surprised by the edge in his voice. His padawan ignored him, looking over at the new queen speaking intently with her family.

Garal missed their interchange; he was also watching Minaya, with a much softer look. "Soon, I think. They aren't doing much to help her nerves."

"Then we should bid you farewell now," Qui-Gon said. "Colonel Dunnas tells me that the planetary blockade will be lifted as soon as you and your queen are secure in your rooms. Our transport is the second off-world launch scheduled, after Senator Grismere."

"Already?" Garal exclaimed.

"We are due on Coruscant," Qui-Gon said, then smiled. "But I do not think you will notice our absence much over the coming days."

"Since I think I can say it without offending you, I suspect you're quite right." Garal laughed, then turned and held out his arms to his wife, who was making her way through the raucously mingling guests. "And here is my darling, hopefully also free from her social obligations now."

Minaya stepped into his embrace. "Yes, Ander. I think I've had more than enough of both your people and mine tonight. It's time now."

Garal kissed her curls just below the crown of her head, then released her. He faced Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan and bent nearly double at the waist. "Honored Jedi, we thank you for your service. Please return to see us whenever you are able. And give my nephew my regards. I'm very proud, and I know his mother would be, too."

"May the Force be with you," Qui-Gon said, and watched as Garal led his bride into the palace amid the bows and cheers of the guests.

They stood apart for a while after the royal couple disappeared. Obi-Wan watched the milling crowd, most of them eager to leave now that the king's presence no longer restrained them. Qui-Gon watched Obi-Wan. The wedding could not have gone more smoothly had a Jedi organized it, and Obi-Wan's troubled frown had finally faded. In its place, a tiny, secretive smile sent a shiver through the deepest parts of Qui-Gon's soul.

After half an hour had passed, the energy barriers around the palace finally blinked out, and the hum of transports rising to the platform to pick up their passengers drowned out the party conversation. The Mezca royal family and their entourage boarded almost before their ship's ramp hit the platform.

Once they departed, the atmosphere among the remaining Abshi relaxed, and the level of tipsy chatter rose again. The rest of the crowd dispersed quickly in pairs and groups, until the only people left were the palace staff, guards, and the Jedi.

Colonel Dunnas approached them not long after. The fading light deepened the shadows in her face, hardening her weariness into a mask. "Master Jedi, Senator Grismere's transport is arriving now. Yours will be here within a half hour."

"Thank you, Colonel," Qui-Gon began, until Obi-Wan spoke over him.

"We'll wait inside the palace."

Qui-Gon shot him a look; Obi-Wan rarely spoke out of turn in front of other people. But Dunnas only nodded and strode away, already speaking into her wrist comm. "Padawan? Did you have a reason for that?"

"I did, in fact." Obi-Wan folded his hands into his sleeves, turned without looking at Qui-Gon, and glided off toward the palace side door they had used upon their arrival yesterday. His pace was sedate, but the line of his back belied the casual image.

Qui-Gon followed him.

Obi-Wan did not pause to acknowledge the fleeting obeisance from the departing Abshi dignitaries as they passed. His stride neither hastened nor slackened until they entered the quiet confines of the palace corridors. Still Qui-Gon followed without question, down the long halls and into the high-vaulted sitting room where Garal had first taken them.

No ministers awaited them this time, only the last wide sunbeams of the day, which streamed in through the clear windows, shimmering with the flutter of the leaves outside. Obi-Wan stopped at last by the furthest of the windows, which opened out into one of the ever-present balconies that hung out into the forest.

The sound of the leaves washed over them as Obi-Wan stepped out to the far railing and closed his eyes. Qui-Gon followed and wondered if Obi-Wan was listening to the same music Qui-Gon felt all around them.

After a short time, with the quiet growing rich between them, Obi-Wan turned to him with a grave look. "Qui-Gon."

"Obi-Wan." He smiled a little, felt a lightness in his chest. "Why have you brought me here?"

"Because I need to know if I understood what you said to me this morning."

"When we get back to-"

"I'd like to know before then, please."

Something softened inside Qui-Gon at the determined set of Obi-Wan's jaw. "You have always understood me far better than I wish you did."

Obi-Wan nodded, his gaze steady on Qui-Gon's lips. He reached up, slid his fingers under Qui-Gon's hair and around the back of his neck, and pulled Qui-Gon down to his mouth.

His head fell, his hair curtaining them from the dimming sunlight. His heart fell, sending shivers through his stomach and warmth through his chest. The last time he felt that had been the first time he held his own lightsaber. Every resolution of patience and wisdom and control fell to the persistence of Obi-Wan's lips and tongue.

He was doomed, and glad of it.

Obi-Wan released his grip on Qui-Gon's neck, but his hand did not lift as it slid slowly down Qui-Gon's chest. Every inch, every rise and curve of his flesh felt Obi-Wan's touch through all the layers of thick cloth between them. It burned, and he hardened.

"Is this my answer, Qui-Gon?" Obi-Wan pressed against him, fingers bunching the fabric at his waist and easing it up from his belt.

"I've forgotten the question," Qui-Gon whispered, cradling Obi-Wan's head in his hands and bending to kiss him again. "Remind me?"

Obi-Wan's mouth opened to him, wet and hot. He lowered one arm to wrap around Obi-Wan's waist and pull him closer.

The shock in the Force jolted them apart.

For an instant, Qui-Gon looked around wildly, certain that the Force had rendered an instant judgment on their transgression. Then he heard the screams.

His lightsaber sprang to his hand. He saw Obi-Wan's saber flash in the periphery of his vision as he sprinted to the door and into the hall. He paused, reaching into the sickening maelstrom of anger, horror, and fear. "This way," he said.

At full Jedi speed they wove through the panicked and confused palace denizens, and passed Colonel Dunnas running toward the commotion with a phalanx of guards. They rounded a corner and the corridor opened onto a wide interior balcony with twin staircases curving down to the private royal residence.

Obi-Wan leaped over the balustrade without slowing, and Qui-Gon landed next to him. The doors to the royal quarters stood ajar. A green-robed servant stumbled out as they approached.

"Murder," he gasped and clutched at Qui-Gon's robe. "The king is murdered. The killer took the queen."

"Which way?" Obi-Wan seized the man's arm to pull him up. "Tell me."

"Off the balcony, into the trees," he said as Dunnas ran up. "He had a speeder bike. Mezca."

Obi-Wan turned to Qui-Gon. "I can catch them."

"There's a security station directly below us," Dunnas interjected. "You'll find speeder bikes locked just outside."

"Go," Qui-Gon said.

"We'll be right behind you," Dunnas called after him, but Obi-Wan was already gone.

Dunnas spoke into her wrist comm, but Qui-Gon barely heard her. Part of his mind was still with Obi-Wan, racing down the stairs; the rest of his focus narrowed to the open doors and the crumpled form visible within. He moved forward until the spreading stain on Garal's chest appeared, large and dark, and the frozen look of resignation was clear.

Obi-Wan was running through a crowd of palace staff and the guards trying to calm them. One speeder bike remained tethered outside the security station. Qui-Gon felt him leap from the platform onto the bike. It roared to life at his touch and tore free from the docking chains.

Garal's blood began to seep from beneath him, expanding into a gory pool on the tiled floor.

"Stars curse those Mezca lunatics," Dunnas growled as she pushed past Qui-Gon into the open space of the receiving room. She bent over her king, touched the wound in his chest, then brushed her hand over his staring eyes to close them. "The bastard used a steel blade."

The echo of fear and pain in the Force nauseated him. His sense of Obi-Wan, swooping through the trees, following another trail of fear, did not help.

"Master Jedi."

When he looked up, Dunnas was standing by the open balcony door. Her face remained stern and composed, but her eyes were wet and bright as she looked at him.

"Master Jedi, please," she said. "A speeder is here for us. We must go now."

He drew himself back from his thoughts and nodded, moving toward her. Dunnas turned and ran onto the balcony. She leaped over the railing with Jedi-like surety. Qui-Gon sped up and leaped after her, landing solidly on the deck of the security speeder as it began to move.

"Colonel, we'll have a satellite lock on the Mezca speeder within a minute," the pilot said.

Qui-Gon reached out again for Obi-Wan, then reached down and adjusted the navigation controls. "That way."

The trees became a blur, doubled in Qui-Gon's eyes by the fleeting impressions he had of Obi-Wan weaving and dodging through the trees ahead, running down his prey with relentless Jedi skill. The prey stayed just ahead with increasingly desperate maneuvers.

Qui-Gon closed his eyes.

A sharp turn. A sharp drop. An abrupt stop, and a lightsaber flashed.

"Colonel! They've stopped - no, crashed, I think. We're not far."

"Bring us down, Lieutenant."

Qui-Gon opened his eyes. Obi-Wan stood before them, ten meters away on the forest floor, with his lightsaber held at the ready. Ten meters beyond him, the fugitive dressed as a Mezca guard had his blaster out and had backed Minaya against the massive root of the nearest tree.

A moment later, Qui-Gon recognized the man as Donar Caldin, Minaya's personal guard and the one Mezca who would have been allowed into the heart of the palace. The Mezca speeder lay in a crumpled heap nearby; both its riders seemed unharmed.

Dunnas and her lieutenant ran forward, but Qui-Gon overtook them in a moment, gesturing them back. Obi-Wan had a better chance than they did of capturing the assassin without hurting the young queen.

"Come peacefully," Obi-Wan was saying, "and no other innocents need to die today."

"Ander Garal was no innocent." Caldin's voice trembled, and Qui-Gon noticed for the first time how young he was, oddly young for a bounty hunter who could carry off such a masquerade and penetrate so many levels of security. But the jagged knife shone red at his belt. "And neither am I."

"That is probably true," Obi-Wan replied. "But it is not your duty to die for your mistress. Nor will she allow it, if she is the woman I think she is."

"Your Majesty!" Dunnas shouted and leveled her blaster at the man. "Your Majesty, are you hurt?"

"She is not." Obi-Wan's voice stayed quiet, low and deadly in a way Qui-Gon had heard from him only twice before. "Are you, Highness?"

Behind her captor, Minaya straightened up and put a hand on the man's shoulder. "I am not."

"My lady, no."

She pressed his shoulder until he stepped to the side, then moved past him, chin still held high. Her dress was covered in flecks of dry leaves, her face smudged with dirt. She presented the picture of an innocent girl playing in the woods. Only her shaking hand and her soiled dress, stained wet and red, betrayed her.

How badly have I misjudged, Qui-Gon thought.

Minaya paced forward until she stood clear of her guard and met Obi-Wan's gaze. After a moment she flinched, but remained unbowed. "I will come," she said. "Please spare him. He only wished to save me."

"I would not condemn a man for his devotion." Obi-Wan lowered his lightsaber until it skimmed above the ground and held out his hand to her. "No matter how unwise."

How unwise they all had been. And how clear Qui-Gon's Force sight was now, too clear and too late. The details were still fresh in Minaya's mind, radiating out like a holoprojector. Garal, alone with his beloved at last, opening his arms to his bride. She stepped once again into his embrace, and with the same motion, drove his own ceremonial dagger into his chest.

He had gaped at her, then his eyes cleared with understanding before clouding over forever. She supported his sagging frame until her knees buckled, and they tumbled to the floor in a parody of lovers' passion.

Then she screamed.

Caldin had reached them first. He pulled out the knife and pulled her away, ignoring her protest. The speeder bike already hovered outside, summoned by remote the instant he heard her scream. He had prepared for this, made his own plans to save his princess from her mission.

All of this Qui-Gon saw, now that the knowledge could only choke him with useless regret.

Minaya walked toward Obi-Wan's outstretched hand, each step crunching on the fallen leaves beneath her small boots. The leaf music did not reach here; Qui-Gon understood why the Abshi built so high. Her fingertips almost touched Obi-Wan's when her foot caught on a hidden root and brought her down hard on her knees at his feet.

Her gasp echoed in the stifling silence, then she gave a tiny, choked sob. Her hands lay still on her knees; tears splashed onto her palms, then ran red down over her fingers.

Obi-Wan crouched beside her and gripped her elbow to lever her to her feet. Her fingers twisted in his tunics, leaving crimson streaks on the rough linen. "I should pity you," he told her. "But I cannot."

"I loved him." Her hoarse voice barely reached Qui-Gon over the shouts and roars of hover engines as a hundred Abshi soldiers descended on them. "Please believe me."

"I do believe you." Except for the cold edge in his voice, Obi-Wan might have sounded kindly. "But that won't save you, your Highness."

"I never expected to be saved," she answered, and made no protest as he led her to his speeder and seated her in front of him for the short trip back to Abshi City.

Qui-Gon remained behind while Dunnas restrained Caldin, now openly weeping for his lady. Even the speeder wreckage had been examined and cleared by the time he felt enough at peace with himself to go back.

He had been touched by their love. He had been moved by her fear. Never had he suspected the reason for her fear, nor the obligation of the greater love in her heart. He had never felt such a fool, and the regret would be slow to leave him.

They stayed on Abshier until after Garal's ashes had been scattered to the wind among the trees, but before the dust settled on the upheaval in the Abshi government.

Obi-Wan joined Qui-Gon where he waited by the ramp of their ship. "The Lord Mayor just told me that the Mezca king and queen have offered to abdicate their thrones and allow the monarchy to be dismantled."

"Have they?" Qui-Gon's fingers tightened on the fabric inside his sleeves. "What were their conditions?"

"Mezca equality in a planetary parliamentary system. It seems likely at this point. The current state of the Abshi succession and how the Mezca now figure into it is more than anyone wants to deal with right now."

"They asked for nothing else?"

"No. Minaya comes to Coruscant to stand trial, as before."

He nodded. "I admit that I'm surprised. The Republic high courts do not look kindly on regicides."

"True." Obi-Wan squinted into the tree branches, which began to rattle with the passage of the ship coming into dock. "But I don't think she cares much now."

And when Minaya came down the ramp of her transport, shackled hand and foot, Qui-Gon indeed sensed no fear as she made the trek from one ship to the other. She kept her gaze fixed ahead of her, refusing to lose any dignity to the enforced shuffle of her gait. Her wide green eyes were sad, but peaceful.

Behind her, Donar Caldin shuffled, also looking at peace. He would also face trial on Coruscant, but until then he would be allowed to serve his lady as her sole attendant.

Minaya paused at the foot of the ramp. She turned toward the Jedi and nodded, then bent as far as she could against her bindings. To Qui-Gon's surprise, Obi-Wan bowed deeply in return. She continued up the ramp, followed by her guard and six more guards for both of them. Obi-Wan went up after them to make sure the prisoners were secured in their berths.

"Master Qui-Gon."

He turned at the familiar voice. "Colonel Dunnas. If you wish to check on the prisoners-"

"No." She shook her head, hands clasped behind her back. "I've seen more than enough of both of them for the time being."

"I understand. We'll have them off your hands in a few minutes."

"I appreciate that." Dunnas cleared her throat and looked back toward her ship. "I wanted to thank you again on our king's behalf. Your presence meant a great deal to him."

He followed her gaze for a long moment without speaking. "I only wish I could have been of greater service."

"Ander knew the risks of the situation, and none of us could have predicted this." The straight line of her mouth bent a degree. "Not even a colonel. Not even a Jedi master."

He inclined his head. "You are wise."

"Not in the least. But I know - I knew my king. And I think he would have said that every moment he spent with Minaya was worth it, even had he known how it would end."

They stood in companionable silence until four of the Abshi guards came back down the boarding ramp. Obi-Wan appeared in the hatchway behind them. "Master. We are prepared for departure. We require only your presence."

"Thank you, Padawan." He moved to the base of the ramp. "Colonel. May the Force be with you."

"Safe voyage, Master Jedi." Dunnas saluted him and turned back to her own ship.

Qui-Gon strode up the ramp and brushed past Obi-Wan. He went straight to their quarters and into meditation. When they left orbit, he felt the weight of the planet leave him as the voices of anger and confusion faded.

Hours later he opened his eyes to find Obi-Wan sitting cross-legged on their bunk, watching him.

"You could have joined me," Qui-Gon said.

"I could have," Obi-Wan replied. "But I had my own thoughts to collect first, in my own way."

"And what way was that?"

Obi-Wan unfolded his legs and sat on the edge of the bed. "I kept watch for a while on the greater of our prisoners."

"And what thoughts did you come to?"

"That she had a great love and she threw it away. I despise her for that. But she believed that what she did was the right thing for her people, and I respect her courage even though she was blind to her own folly."

Qui-Gon stirred, then pushed himself to his feet. "You would do the same?"

"The right thing?" Obi-Wan looked up at him. "Yes."

"Yes." Qui-Gon nodded slowly. Minaya was so young, with courage beyond her years, but not the wisdom to see the myriad possibilities that Garal had, with the long experience of his life and station. Obi-Wan was just as young, but he had both courage and wisdom that could put even Qui-Gon to shame. "Yes, I know you would do the right thing."

"You taught me that." Obi-Wan rose; two steps brought him to Qui-Gon's side.

"It was always in you." He cupped Obi-Wan's cheek for a moment, then let his hand fall.

Obi-Wan caught it and kissed it before letting go. "But I am a Jedi. I have you and the Force to guide me," he said. "I am not Minaya, and I come to you with my eyes open."

Qui-Gon found himself smiling. Despite the hard lessons of life and grief, he wanted to throw himself into folly again as though he were still a lovesick youth - or king. Thank the Force that he was a luckier man than Ander Garal; his heart was safe in Obi-Wan's hands. "I am glad."

Smiling back, Obi-Wan hooked his fingers into Qui-Gon's belt. "How glad?"

"Excessively glad," Qui-Gon said drily, just before his belt thudded onto his boots. He reached to retrieve it, but Obi-Wan kicked it away.

"Good. I'm glad, too."

"Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon chided, even as he reveled in the sensation of the sash unwinding from his waist. "We are still on duty. We have little time."

"Much as I would like," Obi-Wan said, in between kisses to Qui-Gon's neck and jaw, "my first time with you to be slow and serene, I have learned to seize my opportunities when they come."

"We will have plenty of opportunity when we return home."

"So you say. But if I catch you off your guard now, you won't find it so easy to refuse me in the future."

With that, he gave a powerful shove that brought Qui-Gon to his knees at Obi-Wan's feet. All he could do was submit to his padawan's authority and acknowledge the truth of his words. They were beyond the point where they could turn away from this course, and he wanted it as badly as Obi-Wan did.

He reached up and found the fastening of Obi-Wan's belt. One hook, then two, then he had it off and cast it aside. The sash came off next, and then Obi-Wan was as undressed as Qui-Gon, as bare as he needed to be. He pulled Obi-Wan down onto his lap and groaned at the feel of naked, intimate flesh settling against him.

It was just as well, the tiny rational part of him reflected, that they had so little space and time for this. He had an excuse for surrendering to his most uncivilized instincts. They told him to meet Obi-Wan's flesh with his own with no attempt at composure or control, save a hand to steady himself as he began to enter his padawan.

When he pushed up, Obi-Wan's body yielded to his. When Obi-Wan pushed back down, Qui-Gon felt himself taken in completely.

"My master," Obi-Wan gasped as he rose. Qui-Gon thrust up to keep their bodies joined as deeply as possible. "Qui-Gon."

"Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon groaned into his padawan's neck, over and over, in time with his thrusts into Obi-Wan's warm flesh. Obi-Wan shivered in his arms; his moan shivered through the Force and through Qui-Gon's body, the sensation almost more than he could stand. He wanted it to last for hours, but he had to finish soon.

Qui-Gon tightened their embrace, felt Obi-Wan respond by tightening the grip of his thighs and ass. "Master." Obi-Wan gave a stuttering gasp, then his body jerked in Qui-Gon's arms as he came.

His pleasure slammed into Qui-Gon, stripping the last barrier between them, pushing Qui-Gon into his own climax. He struggled to still his movements as he came, savoring every pulse of his first orgasm in Obi-Wan's body.

Obi-Wan also stilled, then sagged onto Qui-Gon's shoulder. "You're mine now," he mumbled into the damp juncture of Qui-Gon's neck.

A Jedi could belong to no one and could possess nothing but what the Force provided in the moment. Qui-Gon did not correct him as he set Obi-Wan back on his feet and rose to his own; he had a small, wicked feeling that Obi-Wan had it right.

"Clean yourself up," he said instead. "Then a few minutes of meditation. We still have a job to do, if you haven't forgotten."

Obi-Wan smiled. "Yes, Master."

"Sir, we have clearance for Coruscant arrival in fifteen minutes."

"Thank you," Qui-Gon said. The journey from Abshier had been at once too short and far too long.

"I will go inform our guests to be ready," Obi-Wan said, but Qui-Gon laid a hand on his arm.

"I will do it."

Obi-Wan looked askance at him, but said nothing. He nodded and stepped out of Qui-Gon's way.

Qui-Gon had avoided the compartment where their prisoners stayed contained, but he found it unerringly now. The two Abshi who traveled with them snapped to attention when he rounded the corner.

"We are almost to Coruscant," Qui-Gon informed them. "I must speak with the prisoners."

"Yes, Master Jedi," one of them answered as the other one turned and punched the access code into the door lock. He held the door open for Qui-Gon to enter.

Minaya sat on a padded bench with her head down and her hands folded in her lap. She seemed parsecs away, but her gaze snapped up when Qui-Gon came in. Across the room, her bodyguard jumped to his feet, eyes and fingers twitching as though he could not decide whether to fight or flee the Jedi.

His lady rose with greater composure. "Master Jedi," she greeted with none of the anxiety he had felt from her before the wedding.

"Lady." Qui-Gon walked slowly across the room and sat down on the other side of her bench. "We will arrive at the capital in a few minutes."

She sat down beside him and nodded. "I thought I felt us drop out of hyperspace."

"I wished to speak with you before we arrived." Not that he had particularly desired any conversation with her, but he felt he owed it to his friend to understand the girl - the woman who had been his joy and his demise.

Her wide eyes bore the weight of years far beyond those she had lived. "I do not expect your forgiveness."

"You neither have it nor require it, lady."

"I would at least have your understanding."

He hesitated. "I am not certain I can offer you that. Your motivations were not... unnoble in the end. But there would have been another way."

"Do you think I did not look for that other way, sir? Do you think I acted casually, impetuously?" Her jaw clenched and her brow lowered, looking disconcertingly like Obi-Wan in the midst of a temper flare. "Do you think I threw away my husband's life, and mine, so cheaply?"

"No," Qui-Gon replied quietly. "I do not think that. But I deny the wisdom of your decision, and the wisdom of those who led you on this path."

"No one led me. No one made my choices for me. Jedi you may be, but do not patronize me."

"That was not my intention."

She did not seem to hear him, or at least she paid him little mind, looking past him with unfocused eyes as her voice dropped to a conversational tone. "Do you want to know what would have happened, if I had taken your other path, Master Qui-Gon?"

"What would have happened?"

"Ander and I would still have been married, and we would have lived together in bliss. We would have ruled Abshier wisely together, and when my parents, who are old and barren now, died, we would rule the Mezca as well. In time the Abshi would have accepted having a Mezca woman as their queen - but more importantly, the Mezca would have accepted having an Abshi man as their king."

"Would that have been such a tragedy?"

"Not at the time. But eventually, Ander would die and our firstborn son would become king of the Abshi. And when I died, he would become king of the Mezca as well, and his sons and daughters after him. They would all be Abshi, born and raised in the capital, and before many generations had passed, the Mezca would simply be another kind of Abshi. We would neither have nor want more than token political autonomy, and Mezca identity would fade into Abshi homogeny as our people intermarried. And how could I protest? They would only be following my example."

He stayed silent when her voice faded into ragged breaths, her eyes still unfocused as though seeing that future playing out before her. "It would not have had to be that way," he said at last, but even he could not make his conviction stand against hers.

She focused on him again, a half smile on her lips. "But it would be that way. I have seen it in my dreams, so that I could not doubt."

"You are strong in the Force," he told her bluntly. "If your dreams were true, they were Force visions."

"That is what Ander called them." She did not seem as perturbed by the thought as he would have expected. "Unlike my parents, I do not deny the power of the Jedi way."

"You acknowledge the Force - but this made no difference to you?"

"Why would it? Religion is not the only difference between Mezca and Abshi, Master Jinn, whatever the prefects on the holonet would have you believe."

A change in the air pressure and a discreet chime announced their arrival on Coruscant. Qui-Gon stood and looked down at Minaya. "You should know, lady, that I was once betrayed by someone I loved, in the name of duty to family and loyalty to nation. I hold such things as poor reasons for such a betrayal as yours."

"I understand. I am sorry."

He cut her sympathy off with a jerk of his hand. "I say this so you will know why I do not offer you compassion. I am not an objective observer. But my padawan seems to understand you, and in all things over the last few days, his judgment has been far superior to mine."

She nodded and rose just as the door slid open, with Obi-Wan and the two Abshi guards on the other side. "Thank you, Master Jedi."

To his own surprise, he bowed to her. "May the Force be with you."

Then he turned, ignoring Obi-Wan's questioning gaze, and did not stop until he was down the ramp and off the ship. The next few minutes passed in a blur as he spoke with the waiting high court officers, and by comm with the Supreme Chancellor.

He almost missed the moment when Minaya, back in her shackles but still every inch the queen of Abshier, disembarked and surrendered herself into the custody of her new jailers. She did not look at him again, but he watched her being led away until she disappeared into the vast building complex.

A moment later, he felt Obi-Wan at his shoulder. "Master?"

"She has no regrets." He faced his padawan, letting Obi-Wan's warm presence soothe the last of his unease. "I think she never will."

Obi-Wan's gaze bored into him. "And you? Do you have regrets?"

"Many." He lay his hand on Obi-Wan's arm. "But I submit myself to the will of the Force."

"I see." Obi-Wan smiled slowly and leaned forward until his mouth brushed Qui-Gon's ear. "In that case, come home with me, Qui-Gon. I have many more regrets to give you."

And like a wise master, he followed his padawan's judgment.

END