Story-related A/N: The inspiration for Marjhan, and actually the entire story, came from the matchbox twenty song "Downfall" and also Rufus Wainwright's "Halleluiah."

Italics are flash-forward in time.

TPM Tatooine Rewrite: Through Glass

By: Syntyche

chapter fifteen: the lady of the house

She knew that he was afraid, and it excited her. He had been strong once, resilient, proud and indifferent to her, but that had been some time ago, and she had been working on him steadily since his arrival. He was so close to falling from his pedestal, and when he did she could finally enjoy a well-earned reward. She hated him as much as she loved him, if love even existed for her anymore. Lust was her goddess, and the fulfilling of which was truly the only thing that pleased her.

And he certainly provided her with plenty of opportunity for lust.

Sometimes, she lusted after his obedience. That he would do what she asked without hesitation.

Sometimes, she lusted after his body, which she took when she wanted. She had paid for him, after all. And he looked so amazing in the suns' light that sometimes she just had to take him to convince herself that he was real – gods, he'd been beautiful when she'd first laid eyes on him, but months under the sun had tanned his pale skin so that his bright blue eyes shone even brighter by comparison, and his endless labor for his masters had burned every spare ounce from his lean body. He was perfect, and she loved the unyielding feel of his hard, muscular frame beneath hers.

Today, however, she lusted after his fear, after the primal scent of his terror, of the slight, wonderful widening of his beautiful eyes as they filled with dread at her coming. It thrilled her to her core to hear his quiet moan of despair as the drugs flooded his system, and when his eyes darkened as the sedative took hold she couldn't restrain from stroking his cheek excitedly. Absently, she noted the thick bristles scraping beneath her fingertips and realized that he'd have to shave again – she preferred her Obi-Wan clean-shaven.

Her roving fingers drifted upward to toy with the short ginger strands resting against his jawline. The long, thin braid he'd arrived with had disappeared weeks ago, sheared off by her own hand and neatly tucked away in one of her keepsake boxes. He watched her quietly, though his mouth tightened anxiously.

"Are you afraid?" she asked in a low voice, a hint of a smile twisting her lips, "of me? You don't have to be."

She said it not as a reassurance, but as a challenge – for he had proven to be quite a trial thus far. He was much hardier and had lasted longer than any of her previous toys, and there was an inner determination to him that kept him on his feet long after he should have been driven to his knees.

"No?" He sounded faintly amused, but the drugs were sliding deeper into his body and he looked at her dully, barely turning his badly bruised face toward her. "I find that difficult to believe."

Marjhan put a hand to her chest in mock surprise even as a knowing smile crossed her mouth. "It's your choice, my beautiful Obi, pleasure or pain. Well, almost always your choice," she amended. "You just choose poorly when it's up to you."

Obi-Wan shifted painfully, and beneath her hand she could feel his broken ribs grating harshly against each other. She increased the pressure of her fingertips and smiled cruelly when he jerked.

"Why do you do this?" he whispered, his voice rough and panting when he could finally speak past his agony.

Marjhan made a show of considering his query, but the answer was already on her lips because she asked herself the same question every night.

"Because you refuse to come to me willingly. Because unless you do, you're not entirely mine. And because I want to. Do I need any other reason than that?"

He regarded her wryly as the last light faded from his eyes. "Does the fact that I don't want you to matter at all?"

She just smiled.

OOOOOOOOOO

"What's this?"

It was the second time he'd been asked about in that manner in less than a month. The first time had been when Biggs had asked about him. The man's tone had been bitter and jealous, and had made Obi-Wan want to sink into the ground in shamed embarrassment and some indignation - probably the reason that particular memory had been left to him.

This time it didn't sound like Biggs at all, though he still wished he could disappear into the cold stone floor as he was again surveyed by questioning eyes.

Her voice was smooth as shimmersilk, sliding over him as greedily as her lustful, hungry gaze. Her dark hair hung in thick, curled tendrils down her slim, bare back, and her red lips were parted in a ravenously pleased smile as she appraised one of her husband's most recent acquisitions, twisting her long-nailed fingers together as if that were the only way she could keep herself from reaching for him.

She directed an absolutely enraptured gaze at her husband, and Obi-Wan could easily see how his Master had fallen for this woman, though she screamed danger to the young slave's senses.

"I want him," she said simply.

Obi-Wan's eyes widened and he automatically backed up a step, his gaze going fearfully to his Master. There was something about her tone that unnerved and discomfited him. His Master smiled reassuringly at him, giving him some small measure of comfort.

"It's okay, Obi-Wan. I want you to stay with the other slaves. Go with Jaq; he'll show you where you'll sleep and eat. The rest of the day you can spend getting yourself acquainted with the farm." He placed a warm hand on Obi-Wan's shoulder, completely ignoring the woman. "I think I can trust you, boy," he continued quietly, "but remember that your transmitter'll activate if you go beyond the boundary markers."

Obi-Wan dipped his head, relieved by his Master's kindness. "I understand. Thank you."

He glided silently from the room and back to the house's main landing, where Jaq - one of the farm overseers - and the other newly-purchased slaves waited. He wasn't sure why his Master had taken him in to meet the Lady of the house, but his Master had been very kind to him so far and he didn't want to seem ungrateful, even if the Lady gave him chills despite the blazing desert heat.

I have a bad feeling about this, he thought, and the words were familiar though he couldn't remember why.

OOOOOOOOOO

As soon as the young slave had left the room, Marjhan rounded on her husband.

"I want him," she repeated firmly, her lips curving in a gratified smile as she recalled cornflower eyes in a tanned face, the well-muscled body, the palpable sense of fear pervading him. Gods, it was beautiful to her.

Her husband lifted his dark eyes to meet her, offering a tight, smug smile. "I knew you would, he fits your 'type'," he conceded. Risq's smile widened tauntingly at the woman across from him. "You can't have him."

"Then why did you bring him to me? Parade him in front of me?" Marjhan demanded, pouting. "To tease me?"

"As you tease me?" Risq asked wryly. "I think not, my Lady," and if she heard the bitter sneer in his voice, she ignored it, "I just didn't want you accidentally stumbling onto him one of these days while I was away, and just assume he's yours for the taking. He's not."

"Why?" She shrugged idly, to show him she didn't care all that much and was simply curious. He wasn't fooled. "What makes him better than any other slave you've brought home?"

Risq shrugged. "A hunch. I like him," he admitted unashamedly, sounding uncaring that he might consider one of his slaves almost as human as she was. Marjhan found it revolting. "He'll work hard."

Marjhan flicked her long eyelashes at him, "He looks like he could work hard, doesn't he?" she agreed, purring. "I could find out, if you'd like."

"I don't think so, dear," Risq rounded on her firmly. "You keep your sick games to yourself, do you understand? Don't touch any of them."

Marjhan smiled, though her eyes burned as hatred and lust warred in her dark stare. "Of course. And darling?" she called as he turned to leave.

"Yes?" he asked wearily, wondering if bringing Obi-Wan here had been a mistake. He knew already that it was.

"When do you leave again?"

His eyes hardened as he glared spitefully at his wife. "I hate you," he said simply.

She flashed him her best bedroom eyes and let her fingers trail across her tight bodice caressingly.

"I deserve it," she agreed.

OOOOOOOOOO

"I can't believe I'm helping you with this," Mace whined.

"It was only a matter of time before you came to your senses," Qui-Gon placated sensibly, as calmly as he could manage though his insides were tightened into writhing knots of agony. He tried to focus on the pain of his stomach wound being jarred – anything to keep the anxiety at bay:

He was finally going after his Lost One.

"And Yoda is fine with this?" Mace asked disbelievingly.

"Arranged the transport himself, he has," Qui-Gon confirmed. The tall Master turned his head so that his chin aligned with his right shoulder, long mahogany strands of his greying hair sliding over his rough cloak to pool into his hood. "He understands how dangerous it would be if Obi-Wan is taken by the Dark," he murmured grimly, cautiously watching that no one passing by overheard him.

"I think you're overreacting, but I am glad that you're going to look for him – even you're crazy for going now instead of waiting like the Healers want you to." Mace sighed, passing a hand over his smooth forehead. "You're no good to him dead."

"I'm fine," Qui-Gon argued weakly. "Trust me, it looks worse than it is."

"That's not reassuring at all," Mace retorted, "And the last words I want to hear from you are 'trust me.' Force, do you remember what happened the last time you said that?"

A slow grin crossed Qui-Gon's face. "As a matter of fact, I do – wasn't that when you ended up – "

"Yes!" Mace interrupted sharply. "And I ended up scrubbing rocks for a month. You only got off because you're Master Yoda's toadie."

Qui-Gon almost laughed, but it hurt to even think about laughing, so he didn't. "I'm sorry, his what?"

Mace snorted. "Don't play innocent with me. You know exactly what I said and that you are." The doors to the docking bay hissed open, and Mace wheeled his friend inside, handing him off to the docking attendant. "Hey," he said gently, "bring him home, okay?"

Qui-Gon nodded sharply. "I won't come back without him."

"May the Force be with you both," Mace said formally, gripping his friend's shoulder.

Qui-Gon met his gaze levelly. "I'll find him," he promised quietly.

I'm coming, little one.

OOOOOOOOOO