I'm very tired. That is all. Happy reading!

Chapter Four. The Poisoned Chalice

Part two of chapter four.

"Lay him on the bed, quickly," Qui-Gon said when they reached his chambers. "He's struggling to breathe." Anakin obliged, pulling out the cot; he heaved Obi-wan's seemingly lifeless body over it. Meanwhile, Qui-Gon ordered, "Padmé, fetch me a bowl of water and a cloth." The maidservant bobbed her head into an urgent nod and darted out of the chambers.

"Is he going to be alright?" Anakin asked, glancing back at Qui-Gon from his position near the cot. Qui-Gon pressed his lips together. "He's burning up," he only replied, and that much was true – Anakin had felt Obi-wan's body burning even through his clothes when he was carrying him to the chambers.

"But you can cure him, can't you, Qui-Gon?" Padmé asked, walking back into the room. She instantly sat down on the other side of the cot, dunking the cloth into the bowl of water. "I won't know until I can identify the poison," Qui-Gon answered. He reached out his hand, saying, "Give me the goblet."

Padmé reached down and instantly handed over the goblet, which Qui-Gon took carefully. He held it up at a distance and then, peeking inside, murmured, "There's something inside."

"What is it?" Anakin asked, standing up. He headed over to Qui-Gon, who had taken on poking a set of tweezers into the chalice. Narrowing his eyes, the older man replied, "It seems to be a kind of…" He held the object up to the light, finishing, "A flower petal of some kind."

At that, the physician headed for the bookshelves, sorting through the thick volumes until he pulled out one particularly thick one. Dumping it on top of the workbench, Qui-Gon started flipping through the pages. Anakin waited as patiently as he could – but really, that wasn't working out too well. As Qui-Gon kept searching, the young prince couldn't help but to look back at Obi-wan – and feel a quick stab of guilt and resentment towards his father. It wasn't fair.

"Ah," Qui-Gon noted once finding the page he was looking for. He held the tweezers up again and added, "The petal comes from the morteus flower." He pointed at the delicately printed letters on the page. "It says here that someone who is poisoned by the morteus can only be saved by a potion made from the leaf of the same flower. It can only be found in the caves deep beneath the forest of Balor." Flipping to the next page, he read on, "The flower grows on the roots of the morteus tree."

Anakin scanned the page carefully, reading along with Qui-Gon until his eyes caught sight of a particularly interesting image drawn near the words. It was of a strange, dragon-like figure – with a long tongue, leathery-looking wings, and a set of beady, malicious eyes. "That doesn't look friendly," Anakin only said as he gestured to the image. Qui-Gon nodded his head knowingly. "Cockatrice," he explained. "It guards the forest, I believe." He looked over at Anakin, expression grim. "Its venom is potent – one drop of it can mean certain death. Few who've crossed the mountains of Isgaard in search of the morteus flowers have made it back alive."

Those words left a tense silence behind. Anakin's eyes travelled around the room – first landing on Padmé, who had taken onto watching him with curious eyes. He ripped his gaze away and let his eyes land on Obi-wan. His manservant, who had been relatively quiet before, was now visibly struggling against the blankets – a sheen of sweat had now settled over his face.

"Sounds like fun," Anakin finally said.

"It's too dangerous," Qui-Gon immediately replied.

"If I don't get the antidote, what happens?" Anakin countered, turning to the physician. And though Qui-Gon hadn't spoken yet, Anakin had the feeling what the response would be – or at least, the basic outline of it. Qui-Gon, sure enough, answered, "The morteus induces a slow and painful death. He may hold out for four, maybe five days, not for much longer. Eventually, he will die."

At that very moment, Obi-wan let out a soft moan, causing everyone in the room to flinch. That was just enough to force Anakin to move out of the room – he was going to get that antidote.

xXx

"What's the point of having tasters if you're going to get killed?" King Palpatine asked, walking briskly away from Anakin. Still, the prince persisted – he had managed to get some decent chainmail on, thanks to a different servant – and was ready for riding out…only to find that his father wasn't willing to cooperate with him.

"I won't fail, Father!" Anakin started to say, but Palpatine replied, "You are my only son and heir. I can't risk losing you for some serving boy." Anakin frowned at the obvious distaste in his father's voice. "What, so his life's worthless now?" the prince asked indignantly.

"Worth less than yours," Palpatine retorted. Anakin stared. Setting his lips into a thin, determined line, he replied, "Let me take some men. We'll find the antidote." The king turned his head, shooting back, "No." Anakin couldn't help but to let stronger, angrier notes trickle into his voice as he shouted, "Why not?!"

"One day, I will be dead and Coruscant will need a king," Palpatine argued. "Don't jeopardize the kingdom's failure."

"Gaius says that if we –"

"Oh, Gaius says so? That's exactly what makes it so," Palpatine interrupted.

"Please, Father," Anakin beseeched, taking a few steps forward. "He saved my life. I can't stand by and watch him die." Palpatine's voice was unforgiving and cold when he replied, "Then don't look. This boy won't be the last to die on your behalf. You're to be king. You have to get used to it."

As King Palpatine started to turn around, Anakin said, "I can't accept that."

"You're not going," Palpatine responded, frustrated. Anakin shook his head, saying, "You can't stop me." Palpatine stomped his foot on the ground, shouting, "Damn it, Anakin! You're not leaving this castle tonight. And that is final."

xXx

Anakin slammed his sword onto the table when he reached his chambers. Feeling anger and annoyance towards his father bubble in his chest, he took to pacing around the room. His mind was reeling – Obi-wan was going to die because Palpatine wouldn't allow Anakin to get the antidote. And as annoying and bothersome Obi-wan was, Anakin wasn't ready to have that happen.

"Say what you like about the food, but you can't beat our feast for entertainment," Ahsoka said from the doorway. Anakin turned around to face the younger woman with a sigh. "Sorry," he muttered. "I should have checked on you – are you alright?"

"Disappointed, actually," Ahsoka simply replied, stepping into Anakin's chambers. "I was looking forward to knocking some heads around." The prince rolled his eyes, saying, "The guards could've handled Bayard." Ahsoka made a small, tsking sound and responded, "Yes, but why let all the boys have the fun?"

"You shouldn't get involved," Anakin murmured halfheartedly. "It's dangerous."

"Spare me the lecture; I already had it from Palpatine," Ahsoka shot back.

"You weren't the only one," Anakin started to say, but the ward added, "Not that I listen to him." Hearing an audible breath from Ahsoka, Anakin listened to the younger woman as she said, "Sometimes, you've got to do what's right – and damn the consequences." Anakin frowned. He turned around, saying slowly, "You think I should go." It wasn't a question.

Ahsoka fingered the edge of the table with a finger, replying, "It doesn't matter what I think."

"If…I don't return, who will rule over Coruscant?" Anakin asked. "There's more than my life at stake, Ahsoka." The younger woman didn't lower her gaze from Anakin. She dropped her hands to the sword on the table and holding it before him, asked, "And what kind of king would Coruscant want? One that would risk his life for a lowly servant…" She handed the sword to Anakin. "Or one that would do what his father tells him to?"

Anakin slowly put the sword in its sheath. Then, without another word, he pushed himself out of his chambers. He avoided the guards and making sure that he wouldn't get in the way of his father, he made his way into the stables. "Sh…" he whispered as he led a horse out of the structure. Anakin swung a leg over the horse – and clicking his tongue, started to ride out of the city.

xXx

"He's getting hotter," Padmé said worriedly from her position by Obi-wan's bedside. Her friend looked terrible – his chest was rising and falling rapidly, his head occasionally twitching from side to side to shake off whatever pain he was feeling. Padmé pressed her cloth to Obi-wan's forehead – and upon contact, low mumbles started to arise from him.

"The fever's beginning to take hold," Qui-Gon said, standing behind Padmé. "None of his words are his own." With that, he reached over and took hold of Obi-wan's wrist. Pressing his fingers against Obi-wan's skin, the physician observed aloud, "His pulse is weaker." Then, he pushed Obi-wan's sleeve down, only to reveal that a strange, circular mark had been printed over the younger man's flesh.

"What is that?" Padmé whispered, looking down at the brand. Qui-Gon looked back up, murmuring, "It's all very strange – the rash isn't supposed to appear until the final stage." Padmé's eyes broadened as the older man pushed himself back to the workbench. "What is that supposed to mean?" she asked, walking over to him.

Flipping open a book, Qui-Gon announced, "It says here that once a rash appears, death will follow in two days." Padmé's face dropped. She felt her heart plunge deeper into her stomach as she replied, "You said Obi-wan had four days." Qui-Gon shook his head. "Something's increased the potency." He looked back down at the book. "It warns that the effect will be more rapid if an enchantment is used during preparation."

"Enchantment? But Bayard isn't a Force user – or a magic user," Padmé replied, bewildered. Qui-Gon nodded slowly. "No, he isn't…" he agreed. Padmé bit down on her lip and shot another look at Obi-wan. His mumbles had lowered to simple, short, wheezing breaths, each punctuated by a stuttering, painfully sharp inhaling sound – it hurt Padmé's chest just to listen.

Forcing herself to rip her gaze away from her friend, she asked, "Then who did this?"

Qui-Gon stilled. Then, breathing in slowly, he murmured, "It couldn't have been. She wouldn't dare come here." He turned to Padmé. "Unless…"

"Unless what?" Padmé asked, leaning forward. Qui-Gon pressed his lips together, asking, "What happened to that girl?" Padmé frowned at the physician. "Which girl?" she replied, bewildered. Qui-Gon pointed at Obi-wan and answered, "Before Obi-wan burst into the hall, Bayard's servant girl took him outside."

The memories started to stir in the back of Padmé's mind – she nodded, whispering, "She had dark hair. She was…very unusual-looking."

"Find her," Qui-Gon urged. "Quickly."

xXx

Padmé ran down to the dungeons, and trying to ignore the guards, she pushed towards the cells. Inside, sure enough, were the servants and citizens that had come along with Bayard on the disastrous trip – they all sullenly looked up at Padmé as she tried to find a familiar face…only to realize that the mysterious servant girl that Qui-Gon spoke of wasn't there.

Resisting the urge to kick at the wall or the cell door, Padmé let her hands drop to her sides and she hurriedly sped away to go back to tending to Obi-wan and telling Qui-Gon of the wretched news.

xXx

"I ordered him not to go!" Palpatine said furiously from inside Ahsoka's chambers. The ward smiled dryly, replying, "Seems to have worked like a charm, too." The king whirled around to her, and pointing an accusatory finger, shouted, "Not another word!"

"My lips are sealed," Ahsoka said, seating herself at her table. She flipped open one of her notebooks and pretending to ignore the fact that King Palpatine was standing in the room, started to scribble down some words to distract herself. "I should have put him under lock and key," Palpatine was murmuring.

"You can't chain him up every time he disagrees with you," Ahsoka hummed as casually as she could.

"Just you watch me!" Palpatine yelled. "I will not be disobeyed by my own son!"

"No." Ahsoka murmured. "Of course you won't."

At those simple words, Ahsoka felt the older man's eyes narrow at her. She heard him walk towards her and slowly, in a painfully quiet voice, King Palpatine asked, "You knew about this, didn't you?" Ahsoka didn't answer right away – she bore her eyes into her notebook, scratching onto the paper a bit harder.

"Ahsoka," Palpatine scowled. "Don't lie to me."

Ahsoka's head snapped up. Puffing out an exasperated breath, she replied, "Anakin's old enough to make decisions for himself." Palpatine's eyes widened. "He's just a boy," he said quietly. Ahsoka frowned. Closing her notebook, she asked, "Have you seen your son recently? You have to let him make his own mind up."

"Even if it means letting him go to his own death?"

Ahsoka couldn't bring herself to answer to that.

xXx

"Let me guess – she wasn't there?" Qui-Gon asked as Padmé stormed back into the chambers. She lifted her hands, replying, "No one has seen her since the banquet. Who is she?" Qui-Gon lowered his eyes to the floor. "Not who she claims to be," he answered.

"But you know, don't you?" Padmé asked.

"Asa – though, that's not her real name." Qui-Gon responded. Padmé frowned. "Then who is she?" she repeated. Qui-Gon looked up and after a pause, said, "A powerful Force user – who combined her powers with the Night Sisters, an infamous band of sorceresses." Padmé clutched at the workbench, saying, "Then maybe we should tell Palpatine! He could send riders after her!"

"No, she'd be long gone," the physician said, shaking his head. "It would be impossible to know where she is." Then, he spun back around to look at Padmé, eyes enlarged in shock. "Oh, no," he murmured. "What?" Padmé asked, flinching at the sudden movement.

"She knows the only place an antidote can be found is in the forest of Balor. Anakin could be walking into a trap."

A/N - This chapter was originally going to be longer, but right now, all of my energy has been drained out. I don't know why, but it was very hard to write this thing. Ugh.

Reviews are always great! Constructive criticism is welcome, but flames are not.