Title: Chains
Author: Kymira
Rating: NC17
Warnings: This story contains light slash. Read it and flame me, I'll show you Sith!
Archive: Temple Library, Grrls. Anyone else, please ask. I'll say yes if bribed...
Summary: An outdated tradition raises the General's ire...
Notes: Um... no. ;-)
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The sound of the rabid crowd rang through the dark night. A loud roar from the masses around him brought General Kenobi's attention back to the present. His most recent campaign had saved this world from the ravages of the Clone Wars, and to show their gratitude, the Council of Brothers had initiated a series of tournaments in his honor. In General Kenobi's eyes, it was a barbaric ritual, but to the Council of Brothers, it was a great honor, and an honor held so highly was one the General was hesitant to discourage. Auel'n was an important victory in the Wars, and General Kenobi would do nothing to compromise this. Even if it meant sitting through the blood bath going on below.

The last round of the night had been announced, and the thrilled screams from the spectators make Kenobi sit straighter and peer into the lighted arena. On the sands below stood a single person. Humanoid by shape. Kenobi strained his eyes to try to bring the figure into better focus. Giving up on conventional sight, he tapped into the Force to augment his vision. As he had begun to study the figure, a chant began from the stands. General Kenobi shifted his attention to the new combatant. His curiousity was peaked by the sight. The new opponent was small, but slim and wiry. The body was protected somewhat by makeshift armor, but if he was hit hard enough, he would be injured. If the blow fell right, injured severely. Kenobi tried to make out his features, but his head was hidden from view by a heavy helmet with a half face shield. Kenobi felt the Force tug at him, as if telling him to pay attention.

The match had begun in earnest now, both combatants whirling around the arena. The larger of the two had taken an early swipe at the smaller one, leaving a wide gash on an unprotected arm. The larger fighter carried a large broadsword and a shield, while the smaller held a longknife and a whip. The fighting was intense, as was the betting around the General. Disgusted, he turned from the sight, only to be drawn back by a roar from the crowd. The smaller one had stripped the larger one of his shield and had sliced a large section of his leg to the bone. The larger man was enraged and in pain, so he rushed forward to finish his opponent quickly. Before anyone could see the movement, the smaller one had the whip wrapped around the swordarm of the larger one. One step forward, and the smaller one pushed the longknife deep into the chest of the trapped man. The crowd around Kenobi began to chant, "Zari, Zari, Zari, Zari"

Kenobi heard a strangled choke from his right, and turned to see the eldest Brother glare at the bloody figure on the sands. When the General pulled his eyes back to the arena floor, he was stunned at the sight. The small warrior had pulled off the helmet and armor, and flung them to the side wall ringing the arena. Kenobi stood in stunned silence as he realised what the Force had been whispering about. This warrior was no he....

Obi-Wan turned to the Brothers with a snarl. "What is the meaning of this?" The Brothers stared at him as if they couldn't believe what he was asking. "Sirra Kenobi, she's a slave. This is her purpose in life." Rage boiled up in Obi-Wan. Every life was important but, for some reason, he felt the need to champion this one. Bringing the Force to bear, he demanded to see her. The Brothers hesitated momentarily, but one look at the Jedi's face changed their minds. Brother Moran clapped his hands sharply, calling the page standing by. "Take Sirra Kenobi to the slave quarters."

Obi-Wan followed the small boy silently, still wondering what had possessed him to do this. *Fool.... you're turning into your old Master... chasing pathetic lifeforms. Qui-Gon would laugh his butt off at me* The page had slowed down and kept glancing over his shoulder. "You wanted to ask me something, page?" The boy stopped, turning fully around to face the General. "Yes sir. You're a great man, yet you are wasting your time on a slave. Why?" Obi-Wan fought down the bitter words in his mouth. "Everyone deserves a chance in life... even a slave."

The page motioned the guards to open the massive doors that lead to the slave's quarters. As the doors opened, Obi-Wan's mind was assailed by pain and despair... and a nauseating lack of hope. The room was dark and dank. Moans of pain flowed from the shadowed corners. Allowing his eyes to adjust to the dim light, he made his way into the large open room that housed the slaves. Perched in the far back corner was who he was looking for. She seemed drawn in on herself, her good arm curled around her legs, her head resting wearily on the top of her knees. Obi-Wan took one step towards her, and found himself suddenly taken to the dirty gound, a small hand latched to his throat.

The guards, seeing the hero of their world under the dangerous hands of the slave, pulled her off of him. Yaking her back by her hair, the larger of the two aimed a savage fist at her now unprotected stomach. The blow sent the slave staggering to the groung, gasping for breath. The other guard had pulled his booted foot back to kick her, but found he could not move. The Jedi glared at the guards. "You will NOT treat the slaves like that again. Not in my presence." With a deft touch of the Force, the guards returned to the doors, leaving Obi-Wan kneeling next to the balled up slave. Using the Force to still her, he reached out to pick her up.

After laying her down, he got the chance to look at her. She was still aware, but she seemed in shock, withdrawn. She was unremarkable in most senses of the word. Short, unruly dark hair, dark eyes, deeply tanned skin covered with white scars, marking her experience in the arena. The gash on her arm still oozed blood. Settling down beside her, Obi-Wan reached into the Force to attempt to speed up the healing and get rid of the infection setting in already.

Obi-Wan's mind raced. He lay in the bed in his guest quarters, but his mind allowed no rest to find him. He kept picturing the slave girl, her body limp in his arms. The main image that stuck in his mind was her eyes. Deep brown, or perhaps even black. He was unsure of the color, but that wasn't the thing that stuck with him. It was the lack of light in her eyes. It was as if her spirit, her soul, had been leeched from her. She was alive, but she wasn't living. Sighing, Obi-Wan turned to his side, trying to clear his mind enough to let him sleep.

Mizari was rolled off of her moldy pallet by the insistant hands of the slave Master. Hitting the ground with a dull thud, she instantly pulled her body into a defensive crouch. The weasel of a man before her merely smirked at her. "So, the General has taken an interest in you. I wonder why." Mizari stood up on stiff legs, waving slightly. She was still weak from her match the night before, but she would have to be ready to fight again soon. Korl sneered at the swaying slave. "You're no beauty, but I guess he could enjoy you nevertheless. He might just need a good fuck..." With a scream of defiant rage, Mizari launched herself at the bigger man.

Obi-Wan was seated at the massive hardwood table used by the Council of Brothers. The Senate had asked that Obi-Wan stay behind to set up some semblance of a defense for the system. The daily rounds of strategy talk had just begun when a guard stalked to the Elder Brother. "Sirra Piack, we have a problem. Again." Piack widened his eyes at the burly guard. "Again?" The guard nodded solemnly. "This time, it was Korl." The Brothers were mumbling by now. Apparently, this was a regular occurance here, the General noted. Piack frowned, furous to be interrupted. "Before me... NOW," the Elder glowered. Bowing swiftly, the guard turned and walked from the room.

Within moments, he returned. Three guards followed him, each had hold of a corner of a lumpy blanket. Unceremoniously, they dropped their bundle to the ground. A muffled curse sprang from the wiggling bundle of cloth. The guard pulled the concealing covering from the pile, exposing the slave. She was heavily chained, and bloody. One eye was swelling shut already, and half a dozen welts were visible on her face and her shoulders. Despite her obvious injuries, she glared at the Brothers. Her present stance and behaviour remined Obi-Wan on a Sythrian Choecat.

Sorav, the second Eldest, walked to the chained and glowering slave. The man stood above the slave, gazing cooly down on her. Mizari met his eyes evenly, giving back what she was giving. Sorav flicked his gaze away from her and motiond for the guard. "Clean her up and take her to my quarters. I'll take the fight out of her." Mizari went pale beneath her tanned skin. She had heard tales of Sorav's taste in bedgames. He left his partners scarred, inside and out.

Mizari was shaking as the guards pulled her to her feet. Her world narrowed down to memories of the past, and fear of the future. Around her, the Brothers murmured their appreciation that a Brother might finally be able to conquer the wild slave... the murderess. One voice remained silent. Not Mizari's. Inside, she was pleading, crying, screaming. Not the Brothers, full of pride, feeding on power. It was the stranger. The hero. The Jedi. He stood silently, watching the spectacle before him.

"Stop." A dozen faces turned to his voice. He had had enough. He could be silent no longer. "Bring her to my quarters."

Mizari was numb as she felt her body being dragged down the plushly carpeted corridor. She knew why she was being brought to his rooms, knew her purpose and why she had been summoned. Her awareness retreated to a far corner of her mind as she was pulled up to stand before the door. The guards knocked once, and the door opened before them. With one swift push, she was shoved into the room. "She's yours, Sirra Kenobi. Call us when you are done, and we'll take her back." Daring to look at her newest tormentor, she was daunted to see him staring intently back at her. His hand raised in a dismissal to the guards.

Obi-Wan stood and slowly walked to the outwardly defiant slave. Her face was a mask of anger, but he could feel the fear hidden behind that. Slowing his pace, he stopped just feet from her. Her eyes were still open, and he noticed she was trembling slightly. For all her bravado and anger, she was still a scared little girl when confronted with men. Obi-Wan wondered what had been done to her to spark such fear. Slowly, he reached out to touch her arm lightly, never taking his eyes from hers.

In the light, he could see her eyes better. How could he have ever thought that her eyes were unremarkable? They were a deep brown, flecked lightly with gold. The lack of fire in them made his soul ache. His hand clasped around her arm in a loose grip, pulling her to the couch. She followed him, still trembling. Obi-Wan sat her down, then sat on the other end of the couch. She looked puzzled at his choice of seats. "What are you doing?" Obi-Wan schooled his expression into one of calmness. "I'm sitting here, trying to have a conversation. Why?" Her eyes narrowed at him, and her fear lessened, tinged with annoyance now. "I thought that you...." Her voice trailed off. Obi-Wan leaned closer, a small smile on his face. "Do you want me to?"

Mizari backed away and stood up, moving slowly away. "No! I never wanted..." She stopped her backward motion, paling slightly. Obi-Wan got up and walked over to her. "Look, I have no desire to hurt you. Believe that. I just want to talk to you for a while. Perhaps I can help you." A most unladylike snort came from the slave. "Help me? How so, great hero?" Obi-Wan motioned to her newly acquired welts and bruises. "I can heal those. Is that such a bad thing?" Mizari's eyes grew distant. "No, I can't allow that. They're badges." Obi-Wan rasied his eyebrows speculatively. "Of honor?" Her eyes dimmed even further. "Not honor. Survival."

They talked for hours. At first, Mizari was quiet and withdrawn, only answering questions directly. After he proved to her that he meant her no harm, she opened up more. He knew the local customs and how the games came into being. But when the subject of her place came up, she shied away and became reserved again. Obi-Wan could sense the hurt from her, but he had no idea how to get her to open up to him. The night had grown deep by then, and Mizari seemed hesitant to stay much longer. She was unused to men being kind to her, and this hero's manners unnerved her greatly.

Standing stiffly, she bowed to the General. "Begging your pardon, honored guest. The hour is late and you must be tired. I'll leave you to your rest, if you require me no longer..." Obi-Wan sighed inwardly. "May I ask you one more question before you go?" Stopping at the door, Mizari stood waiting. "Ask." Obi-Wan moved to face her. "Tell me your name, child." The deep brown eyes rose to his, and a small spark lit there. "I am no child, General. You would be wise not to call me that again." The door swung open, and rough hands reached in to drag the slave out of the room. "Sirra Kenobi, did she serve you well?" Obi-Wan frowned at the guards leer, then shut the door in the guards face.
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Mizari laid on her pallet in the slaves quarters. Her body ached from the guards brutal treatment after retreiving her from Sirra Kenobi's room. Her soul is tormented by flashes of the past and the feel of blood on her hands. Sleep is elusive for her that night. her mind keeps going back to her evening with the Jedi. It was nothing like she expected. She went in expecting to be raped repeatedly, but instead, she was treated like a sentient being... a person. Not a toy for the amusement of the Brothers, not a killer in the arena. Sighing, Mizari turned over and sat up on the narrow cot that served as her bed.

The slave quarters at night could be a frightening place. Many times, the sounds of pain filled moans rang out. The night before the games were the worst. Mizari leaned back against the cold stone wall of her prison, taking in the sights before her. Phillin and Navis, two of the other long term survivors, were at it again. The two of them had been lovers for as long as Mizari could remember. Mizari smiled softly in the dark. She knew first hand that it was so intense if you never knew if you'd live past the next day. Many of the other slaves were asleep already, some tossing fitfully on their dirty cots, lost in night terrors. She knew that feeling too. How many nights had she dreamed of being ankle deep in blood, the sands in the arena wet with the life of her friends... She dreamed these things quite often. The blood would never wash away, and reflected in the blood, she could see her mother's face.

Mizari shook her head, clearing the visions. Her eyes wandered back to Phillin and Navis. The sight made her ache even more. Phillin was atop Navis, thrusting and moaning. Both men were so caught up in their passion. Mizari envied them this time together. Phillin had snaked his hand to Navis' cock and was pumping it in time to his thrusts. Both men were gasping and grunting by now, and the sound grated in Mizari's ears. The sight made her ache for something so blissful, so satisfying. So full of life. Shuddering, Phillin fell to the ground, pulling Navis with him. Mizari could hear the murmurs from them, and she wondered what they could be saying.Mizari turned her back to the lovers, and laid back down. She knew she could go find someone willing among the slaves to help her assuage her needs, but she didn't want that. She didn't need that...
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Obi-Wan sat upright in his bed, his head pounding. The slave girl tormented his dreams. He saw her in visions, her face wild in battle. Her hands bloody with as her opponent lay before her on the sands. He could hear her screams of victory... or were they screams of something else? Obi-Wan shook his head to clear it. Tonight, his dreams had gone even farther. In his dreams, he could see her life in the slave quarters, see other slaves making the most of the night. He could feel her need... Shuddering, Obi-Wan pulled the covers back, only to find a sight that dismayed him. His dreams had been too much for his body, apparently. Obi-Wan tried to settle his mind, tried to tap down his rampant erection, but to no good. Sighing, he rose from his bed and made his way into the 'fresher. *Maybe a shower would help...*

The hot water sluiced down over the hard planes of his chest. The heat relaxed his muscles, somewhat, but his arousal would not die away. He tried to clear his mind, tried to breathe deeply... *Sith Hells... I've even tried to meditate in this damn shower...* Groaning, he moved his hands down to clasp his hard cock. A tremor jolted through his body as he began to stroke himself. His mind began to race as his hands sped up. He tried picturing many things, but one person kept coming to his mind. He pulled harder, moving one hand back to cup his sac. In his minds eye, a small dark headed woman knelt before him, her hot mouth sucking hard on him. He gasped, feeling the pleasure tightening in his balls. In his mind, a pair of dark brown eyes peered up at him from his cock, enjoying his pleasure. *Oh, Gods... too much.....* Calling out her name, he came hard. The hot water soothed his tremors and washed away the evidence of his spent need.
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In the slave quarters, Mizari was lost in another dream. She tossed and turned, and gasping, she wrenched her body up as a sweet melting ache flowed through her. In her mind, she heard a voice... *Mizari!* Gasping and shuddering, she lay back down, but was unable to find sleep again.
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The morning was cool and cloudy when Obi-Wan woke up. His dreams had been silent after relieving himself in the shower, but his mind still wandered. Quickly, he pulled on his worn leggings and soft tunic that he trained in. A good workout was always good for sorting out the contents of one's mind. Obi-Wan made his way down to the large open salle in the shadow of the arena. He figured it would be empty this early in the morning, but he was mistaken.

Sounds of combat quickened his step. When he was in sight of the salle, a sigh escaped his throat. The slaves were sparring, and in the light of the early morning, Obi-Wan could see that most of these fighters could be leaders in any great army they chose. Walking closer, he heard a familiar voice. Mizari was taunting a fallen opponent. She stood over him, her face a rictus of sarcasm. "Oh, good.... you lay down every time you go out, and a guard might take pity and fuck you like the little boy you are..." With a choked howl, the man was upright, slashing savagely at the unprotected woman. She still baited him as she danced out of his reach.

Mizari evaded him until she accidently allowed herself to be backed into a corner. Eyes moving, she ducked a swift blow that rang against the stone walls trapping her. "Damn... I really pissed you off, didn't I?" Moving swiftly, she lunged out with her left arm, catching the man in the jaw with her wrapped fist. A sickening crack turned Obi-Wan's stomach. Twisting her body around, Mizari thrust her sword arm out to try and disarm the injured man. She connected with his wrist, but his hand remained closed tight around the hilt. Obi-Wan could see Mizari's eyes widen in sudden fear, but she compensated by dropping to her knees, swinging one leg around to sweep her opponents legs out from under him. The large man crashed to the ground, cursing, as Mizari made a hasty exit.

Mizari walked slowly around the salle to cool her muscles off. In her mind, she replayed her almost painful mistake. The scene played over and over in her mind until the setting changed. Stopping suddenly, she closed her eyes and, in her mind, she saw the bloody sword bristling from her chest. "You overextended..." Mizari tore her eyes open and spun around. General Kenobi stood not ten feet from her, eyeing her like a teacher with a recalcitrant student. Still shuddering, Mizari rounded on the man. "Who the hell do you think you are, coming in here and telling me that?"

Obi-Wan cocked his head to one side, as if deciding how to answer her question. "Someone who knows better." Mizari's eyes narrowed dangerously. Obi-Wan was pleased to see some life in them after all. Using the Force, he called two swords to his hand. He tossed the lighter one to her, and she deftly caught it. Raising his sword, Obi-Wan saluted her. Mizari raised one eyebrow, then muttered something too soft for him to hear. Without warning, Obi-Wan lunged after her, their blades tangling together.

Lunge. Retreat. Thrust. Parry. The harsh scraping of blades gave testament to the heated battle being fought. A large group of slaves had gathered, ringing the frantic dance in the salle. Mizari was a swift, lithe fighter. She had a pattern of ducking and jabbing, and she believed in fighting dirty. Obi-Wan was strong and experienced. His balance was slightly off due to using a weapon he wasn't used to, but he compensated quickly. Both were acrobatic, leaping out of the way of flashing strikes, and twisting quickly away from the grasp of the other. They were both scraped and bruised from their long combat, and Mizari was beginning to tire.

Obi-Wan had chased Mizari back into the corner that caused her trouble earlier. His intention was to trap her there and teach her a lesson, but he had to admit, he had underestimated her greatly. She had sliced his tunic open in several places, and laid a long line of fire along his arm. She laid about savagely, her eyes wild. He aimed a blow at her, meaning to disarm her, but instead, she clambered between his legs, clawing him along the way. Obi-Wan stifled a growl as pain lanced up from his thigh. She had barely missed his sac by less than an inch, and he knew she had been aiming for it. Turning to face her, he feinted to her left, her stronger side. She moved to block, then switched to her weaker right, catching Obi-Wan square in the chest with the point of her blade.

He stopped instantly, feeling the sharp kiss of metal in his chest. Mizari stood, shaking, trying to control the urge she had to run the blade through. Finally, she lowered her sword, still trembling slightly. "I thought you knew better..." Obi-Wan's hand tilted her face to meet his. "I thought I did too..." His head bent forward, closer to hers. Warm lips slid over Mizari's, sending her reeling. Just as the sweet heat had begun, a loud clamoring brought both combatants back to reality. Obi-Wan looked up, glowering at the disturbance. Several guards had entered the salle to gather the slaves for the games that day. A list of names were read as the slaves were milling around, cooling overheated muscles. "Frenn.... Navis... Phillin.... Zari.... " As each name was called, a guard shackled the slave and led them to the main gate out of the salle.

Mizari's heart sank at the sound of her name. She had already tired herself out today, and her emotions were raging at her since this visitor to her world laid his lips to hers. Sighing, she knew she had no choice but to go to the arena and try to survive. *Who will it be today? Whose blood will I wear? My own, perhaps...* A hard yank on the teather attached to her chained wrists brought her mind back to her situation. She bowed her head, settling her mind for the battle ahead.

Obi-Wan saw the defeat on Mizari's face as she was led out of the salle. Walking swiftly, he exited the salle, and headed back to his room. He had a feeling he would need to be at the games that day, not for an outdated barbaric tradition, but for the players in said game.
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Mizari half heartedly performed her rituals as she prepared for combat. Phillin had alrady won his match, but he was badly wounded. She prayed that Navis would survive this day, or Phillin would be lost as well. The slavemaster of the arena had just announced the standings for the day. Mizari, Navis, Frenn and two new slaves to this area were charged to fight together against a larger group of guardsmen, hand picked by the Brothers. More than anything else, Mizari hated these spectacles. The guardsmen had the better weapons and chances. The slaves were desperate to win, to live another day. This day would be bloody, at best.

Obi-Wan stormed his way into the box reserved for the Brothers and their guests. His emotions were roiling as he saw the first fight. The winner had been near gutted, and there was not much hope of his survival. A smallish man announced the next match and the crowd went wild. Obi-Wan's heart sank. Five ill rested slaves versus ten well trained, well kept guardsmen. Not quite a fair fight...
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Mizari spun to her left and lashed out with her pilfered weapon. A trident wasn't her favorite weapon, but in this fight, it would serve a purpose. Already, one slave had fallen to the surperior strength of the guards. Mizari had no time to reflect on a plan before another attack began. The guards had her and Navis surrounded in the center of the ring. The other two slaves were occupied, but even if they weren't, it was doubtful they would aid them. For the most part, the slaves were a self serving bunch. Navis knew better. They had fought together before, and they had a semblance of trust. Besides, Navis was out to avenge his lover.

Navis at her back, Mizari tried to pull out of the ring of soldiers surrounding them. No such luck, though. The guards tightened their stance, pulling ever closer to Mizari and Navis. "Zari... what now?" Navis hissed urgently in the general direction of her ear. Mizari heard a choked scream and a roar from the crowd. Glancing over to her right slightly, she saw the decapitated head of another of her brethren roll towards her. A firey rage boiled up inside her. Cursing, she laid about, jabbing the trident deep into the stomach of the closest guardsman, felling him.

After her bezerker rage simmered down, the odds were a bit more favorable. Only three men stood before her and Navis. Two burly brutes and one smallish, lean man. By the markings on his armor, he was a seasoned veteran of this arena. * He used to be one of us... Oh, Gods...* The freedmen were the most dangerous of all. They had survived long enough to be released from the arena. Many were offered service in the elite Guard of the city. Mizari warily eyed this man. Navis was already engaged with one of the brutes, while Mizari closed with the other. The freedman held back, watching, taking their measure. Navis neatly sidestepped the massive man, and on his way around him, skewered him. A gurgling gasp, and his body slid to the red dust of the floor.

Mizari was having a difficult time with her opponent. He kept catching the end of the trident, trying to pull it from her grasp. Mizari threw the useless weapon at him, and rolled to pick up another. Her hands lit on a smooth hilt and she clasped it tightly. Her sword! * Finally! * Dancing back to her feet, she swirled to see her brute taken down by Navis. She called out to thank him, only to see a blade sprout from his chest. Her congratulations died away as she saw the face of the freedman peer over Navis' slumping body.

In a flash, her life slowed down. The freedman leapt over Navis' still body, bringing a vicious slash down toward Mizari's head. Mizari ducked away. but not swiftly enough. The blade sliced deep into her shoulder. A fire of pain lanced through her. Stumbling, she tried to regain her footing long enough to carry herself to the other side of the arena where she could at least catch her breath. Her arm was getting heavy as she tried to parry his violent strikes. A rush of silver, and she was disarmed. He followed her down with the point of his sword.

The sharp kiss of metal at her throat drew a fine line of blood as he looked to the Brothers for their approval. Mizari knew she was at the end. The Brothers would never allow her mercy, so she knew she had to take matters into her own hands if she were to survive. Moving ever so slightly, she trailed her fingers over the soft lip of her right boot. Her hand slid over the smooth polish she knew she'd find. Yanking suddenly, she pulled the dagger free of her boot and thrust it up hard, slicing deep into the freedman's groin. Twisting it, she knew she was condemning this man to a slow death from blood loss. Not caring, she twisted it deeper. She felt the heavy body fall against her, dousing her in his blood.

Trembling, she laid her head down in the red sands, wishing only to die... to stop this torment. Just as her mind was about to allow her the peace she so desired, she felt something draw her back. Her eyes closed as strong arms lifted her up, and felt movement as she was carried away from the pounding noise of the crowd. Her mind pulled back from welcoming darkness as she heard a voice calling her. "Stay with me.... don't go..." She knew she couldn't resist that voice, even if she couldn't place who it was....

Mizari floated in pain filled dreams, soaked to the skin in blood, the sound of her screams ringing through her head. Her shoulder was throbbing, and her body was aflame. Every time her nightmare became too intense, something reached deep into her and tried to soothe her. The pain would recede, for a short while, but it quickly returned. The terror, though, never faded.

Mizari woke, feeling clean sheets under her, and a soft blanket above her. She puzzled dimly at that... Hell didn't have clean sheets, did it? The aching in her head made her close her eyes to the oppressive light from the window, but without warning, a soft rustling of fabric guttered the light, leaving the room in gilded darkness. She tried to sit up, only to be gently pushed back down. Mizari gasped in pain as her shoulder hit the bed harder than she thought. Immediately, a soft touch eased her into a more comfortable position. Slitting her eyes again, she was able to make out an outline of a familiar person hovering above her. Hazily, she wondered if she was dead again...

"No, you're not dead. You came close, but you didn't make it." Obi-Wan sat down heavily at the edge of his bed, leaning close to his patient. His eyes were ringed with deep purple, and his face radiated exhaustion. "How are you feeling, Mizari?" She closed her eyes again, taking stock of her body. "I ache... all over. And my head hurts." Her voice was raspy with disuse. Obi-Wan reached his hand to her forehead, brushing against it softly. "No wonder your head hurts. I tried to heal you, but you resisted my help this time. Why?" Mizari squirmed around a bit, trying to find a relatively pain free spot to lay on. Finally, she gave up. "Let me sit up... I can't lay here like this..." Mizari levered herself up, only to feel Obi-Wan's warm hand settle on her back, guiding her to lay back against some pillows he moved behind her. Sighing, she settled into her new nest.

Obi-Wan stood to leave, knowing how she valued her privacy. "Wait. Would you stay here... please?" Obi-Wan stared at the scarred woman, stared BEYOND her scars. Moving back to the bed, he sat close to her, so she could speak quietly, without straining her voice if she wanted to talk. She sat silently for a while, then began to speak in the dull, lifeless tones that was the way a victim spoke of their trials.

She told of her first memories of the arena. Her first victory, the blood fever that covers her mind when she fights. She told him stories of the secret life of the slaves that had been her family for the last fifteen years. She spoke of the man that had been killed today, and his lover, who had died after hearing of his lover's passing. When he told her of Phillin's death, her eyes filled with tears, but none fell. Mizari hung her head, her eyes looking down to the bedsheets. Obi-Wan knew she needed to have release of the feelings she had kept bottled up inside for so long, but he knew it could destroy her if she couldn't control them.

Mizari had fallen silent at the word of her comrades loss. After all this time, she thought she would feel nothing again, but she had begun to lose the numbness she carried for so long. For many years, her constant companion had been the hate she felt for the Brothers. The hate was still there, but her other emotions had returned... most of them. Obi-Wan knew this could be the right time to get her to open up to him, so he slid closer to her, not touching, but close. "Mizari, how did you end up in the Arena?"

She knew this day would come. A stranger had entered her bloody life and turned it upside down with feelings and emotions she hadn't entertained in years. And what was her reaction in return? She trusted him... on a deep, instinctive level. She knew in her heart that he would never abuse her or hurt her. So she made a choice...

"My mother was a sovereign of this misbegotten world. A pampered princess, no less. She was fourteen when the civil unrest started... Three years of constant battles... her home... this palace.. was taken early one morning. Her parents were murdered, and she was taken prisioner. The invaders were quick to set up their new 'government' which became the Council of Brothers. It was decided that my mother would marry Sirra Piack to try and draw the favor of the people. She refused, but it didn't matter. One night, when I was eleven, I walked in on them. He was choking her, and she was covered in blood."

Mizari stopped, unsure of telling him the rest of her tale. She feared he would turn away with disgust after she finished. Obi-Wan reached up and tenderly stroked a finger along her cheek, stopping at her chin to turn her eyes to meet his. "Please continue. You need this, Zari. Tell me what happened..." Lost in his eyes, Mizari continued.

"I attacked him. I couldn't let him hurt my mother. I loved her. He threw me off of him and called the guards. They took us both away, and seperated us. I was locked in a tiny room... in the dark... the guards came at night. Sometimes they would just scare me, and sometimes they would beat me. Always in the dark... One night, I heard her screaming down the hall from my room. Then the screaming stopped. Some time later, I was asleep in my room, and the guards came to get me. They carried me outside in the bright sunlight. I had been in the dark so long that my eyes couldn't stand the light. I was blinded, and scared, and lost in a maze of white hot pain. And someone hit me then, and he forced me down..."

Obi-Wan swallowed his rage at the lifeless tone of her voice. She had gone pale beneath her skin, and he could feel the chill rising in her. Pulling her forward, he circled his arms around her gingerly, careful of her shoulder. She sank limply against his chest, her face buried in his neck. Obi-Wan rocked slowly, trying to calm her shivering. She muttered something against his neck, then pulled back. Shaken, Obi-Wan looked down in the face of this woman he had begun to admire. Her face was expressionless, save for the slight grin that tugged her mouth up but didn't reach her eyes.

"I killed him. He lay his big, sweaty body over mine after he raped me. As he lay there, something snapped in me. I hit him as hard as I could, again and again. We rolled around, and I remember him biting me... telling me that he liked it rough. I squirmed enough to get out of his grip for a moment. I don't remember how, but I found a knife he had in his belt. And I... slit his throat, like you would slaughter cattle. And it felt sooo good..."

He knew he had to get her off this planet at all costs. Even through the numbness surrounding her, he could feel the cold rage, aimed particularily at one man. Piack. "Zari... Why was Piack beating your mother? What was the connecti..." Obi-Wan stopped, realization dawning on him. "Piack is you father? Zari, do you know what that means?" Mizari snorted, and he was relieved to hear her voice sound more like itself. "Sure, that I should be in charge here, right? Uh-uh..no. I have no love for this world. If I could die tomorrow, I would welcome the freedom. I would finally be released from the bonds that tie me here..."

"I don't understand, Zari... bonds? What bonds?" Mizari turned away from him, her face lighting in a soft profile. "A slave is almost never freed from the games. Unless they die. There's only one other way I know of to free a slave, and it's rare." Obi-Wan clasped Mizari's hands in his own. "Tell me. I'd do most anything." Mizari reached up to silence him by placing two fingers on his lips. "It's not for you to do. A patron must make a request for a slave's freedom to the Council of Brothers. The Brothers select a champion, and the slave must defeat the champion to be freed."

Obi-Wan was only half heartedly listening to her. The feel of her roughened fingertips on his lips was distracting, and he had to fight the urge to take them in his mouth. As if she could feel his struggle, she turned to face him, staring deep into his mutable eyes. With one look, he was undone. Opening his mouth, he took the restraining fingers in and laved them with his tongue...

A spark of life ran through Mizari as Obi-Wan's tongue gently caressed her fingertips. Never taking her eyes from his, she slowly pulled the hand away from his mouth and reached down to grasp his hand in her weathered grip. Tugging it up to her lips, she pressed an open mouthed kiss into his strong palm. He sighed and slid his hand to cup Mizari's face as she nestled her cheek into his touch. Leaning forward slightly, Obi-Wan paused momentarily, waiting for something. Mizari met him halfway, pulling his head closer to hers so she could taste him. A feather soft brush against her lips, warm like summer, and sweet... so sweet.

Obi-Wan's mind stumbled over the heat rushing through his body. The kiss had turned hungry, but he wasn't sure who had instigated it. Neither did he care. Tongues met and became acquainted repeatedly as the two soon to be lovers learned the taste of the other.

Kisses turned to touches as Obi-Wan's hands smothed down her cheeks to feel the throbbing pulse in her throat. His lips followed his fingers, nipping lightly, his tongue soothing the minor hurts. Mizari, barely breathing, tilted her head back, allowing Obi-Wan more room. She smelled like rich earth, and rain, not like the many women that had tried for his favors on this mission. Obi-Wan breathed her scent in deeply, trying to imprint it on his soul. Growling slightly, his hands moved lower, gently pulling open the loosely tied robe Mizari was wearing. Obi-Wan's heart tightened with the sight of her bared skin.

Skin that should have been soft was weathered and tanned to a deep brown. Fine white lines circled her neck... the mark of a collar. Not so slight and silvered with age were the marks of recent battles. Still traced in muted red, the main scar that drew his attention was a jagged line running from her collarbone to curl around her left nipple. Without thinking, his fingers moved to ghost over the scar. At his touch, a tremble. Obi-Wan shifted his focus to Mizari's face, only to see her eyes tightly closed and tears welling beneath them.

His hand remained softly touching her breast, as his lips found her ear. "What, love?" Mizari shivered at his proximity, feeling his breath in her ear. "This can't work... I'm not pretty... all the scars..." Obi-Wan mapped the shell of her ear with his tongue. "No, you're beautiful... not in spite of your scars. Because of them." Stepping away a bit, he leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to the scar circling her nipple. Mizari gasped, beginning to burn at his touch. Obi-Wan took her reaction as something positive, and ran his tongue over her nipple, drawing it to peaked attention.

Mizari had felt the pleasures of the flesh before, but this was entirely different. It was as if her soul were becoming connected to this man loving her. Her hands shook as they threaded themselves through his hair, pulling in time with the attentions on her breast. He licked a wet line to her other nipple, not one to neglect any certain part, and lavished it with the same attention that it craved. By then, Mizari was gasping and arching under his ministrations, begging wordlessly

Obi-Wan's erection was throbbing and hot,demanding satisfaction. He pushed Mizari's open robe away from her body and moved his hands from her shoulders to her waist, then lower to clasp her hips. A second flurry of movement, and he was all bare flesh. Mizari had never seen a man so golden. The gods must love this man. Rich tanned skin stretched over hard lines of muscle and wiry sinew. Dusky nipples, and smooth chest. A thin line of red-gold hair splitting his abdomen, trailing to his erection, hard and seeking.

Mizari felt him move above her, speaking softly, trying to calm her fears. There was no sudden panic, no instinct to fight as Obi-Wan parted her thighs and sought her heat. One quick push and she lost her mind to the sensation of his strong body surging into hers. He set a slow, demanding rhythm, designed to enflame her. He knew he needed to be careful, lest it make him lose control too soon. Mizari twined her legs around him, urging him deeper. Obi-Wan growled deep in his chest as he felt his thrusts quicken in response to Mizari's actions.

She could tell she was almost there... almost. Her mind felt as if it could reach out and touch the stars, she was so close. As he pounded into Mizari's sweet embrace, she moved under him, meeting his thrusts eagerly. Her mind was drawn to a star the same cereulan blue that swam in his eyes. Even closer now, as his thrusts became ragged. His peak was near and she knew it. Her eyes opened to gaze upon him lost in passion. Head thrown back, his hair falling back from his face. A bead of sweat rolled down his forehead to his cheek, dropping from there to Mizari's face. The contact burned a brand into her heart as she rushed headlong to her release. So close....

Obi-Wan flung his head down to catch her eyes. "My warrior... come for me... Gods 'Zari..." The coil snapped in Mizari as she cried out her passion to the man abover her. A moment later, he followed, unable to resist the feeling of her muscles clenching around him. A low groan accompanied the last desperate thrust, trying to prolong the pleasure for both. Still shuddering from his orgasm, Obi-Wan sank down on his side next to Mizari, pulling her to nestle up against him.

Mizari's sleep was interrupted by rough hands pulling on her. Jerking awake, she was roughly dragged from Obi-Wan's embrace, snapping him to wakefulness instantly. Korl's ragged face sneered down on her, eyeing her naked skin lecherously. Three burly guards loomed over Korl's shoulder, swords forgotten. Instead, they carried electro-jabbers. Obi-Wan's eyes narrowed at the sight of the pain inducing weapons. These were feared among the slaves. Once used, they sent the nervous system into shock, rendering agony and weakness. Weakness a fighting slave can't afford.

Obi-Wan made a move to pull Mizari from Korl's harsh grasp, but she motioned him away with a desperate glance. "Don't!" Obi-Wan froze at her tone. Her eyes spoke to him as she was pulled from his suite. "Zari, I can't let them take you!" Mizari leveled her gaze to the floor. "There's nothing you can do, Obi." Unable to sit idly by, Obi-Wan tried once again to reach her. "I can save you from this, Mizari! I can take you..." A quiet voice quelled his arguement. "I can't be saved. Not anymore." Obi-Wan felt a sense of dread as she was pulled down the hall.

A darkness surrounded Mizari. Her tormentors didn't take her back to the slave quarters. Instead, they brought her to a small dark room, similar to the one she lived in after she had been seperated from her mother. Her memories tried to fight their way back to the surface, only to be shoved back down into her psyche. The room was eerily silent, which only served to set Mizari's apprehensions even higher. She had felt such warmth and peace in Obi-Wan's arms, only to have that yanked away from her. Tears in her eyes, she laid her weary head against the wall and tried to sleep...

The sound of the door opening was loud. Before Mizari could brush sleep from her mind, rough hands were on her, hurting her. A swift blow across her face split her lip. Reeling, she pulled herself as far back as the tiny room would allow, but her attacker was on top of her again. A vicious kick to her chest, and she felt ribs snap. Again and again, the blows fell on her now unresisting body. The room reeked of blood and pain, and before long another scent rose in the air. Lust... Harsh hands forced her onto her knees, then spread her apart. Mizari knew what would happen next. A low growl from behind her froze her heart. "Little bitch. Screw him and make him care, will you? I'll make sure no one ever wants you again..."

*Oh, Gods... It's... *

Obi-Wan raced down the hall, running at Force enhanced speeds. He needed to see Piack and he needed to see him NOW. He reached his quarters, but he wasn't there. He tried his many offices, but he wansn't there either. Obi-Wan was beginning to worry about the sudden disappearance of Mizari and the coincidence of her father's absence when he spied an aide down the hall. He called to the aid, using the Force to carry his urgency. "You... where is Sirra Piack?" The aide floundered for a moment before answering. "Um... I have no idea, Sirra Kenobi." *A lie?* Pulling the Force to his call, he asked again. The aide's eyes glossed over. "Take me to him. Now."

Piack closed the door behind him with a soft click, sliding the bolt into place. Turning, he took in the angry visage of his 'honored' guest. "Where is she?" Piack blinked, then smoothly deferred the question. "Sirra Kenobi, I have no idea who you speak of..." An invisible hand yanked Piack up to Obi-Wan, face to face. "Mizari... Where. Is. She." Piack held his ground. "I have no idea where that defiant slave is, and she should be glad I don't." The hand dropped him as Obi-Wan leaned down to growl in his ear. "If and when you find her, you had better not hurt her, or so help the Force, I'll show you the Dark Side." Turning on his heel, Obi-Wan strode off, as Mizari lay bleeding and broken behind the now closed door...

Mizari's mind reeled at the bright light that invaded her pain. She opened her eyes, trying to determine where she was. A row of open air cages at the side of a massive structure... the arena. Silently she wondered what she was doing at the arena. *I'm in no condition to... Oh, sweet goddess.* As if to answer her fears, a bodyservant began to wash away the blood and dirt that clung to her body. It was well known that the Brothers hated to see a dirty slave spill blood.

Obi-Wan had no luck in his search the night before. He found it sarcastically peculiar that no one knew the whereabouts of a slave, especially one so talented in the arts of war. He knew there were games planned for the day, and he knew he would find answers there, in the well shaded box where the Brothers sat in imperious gluttony. The box was full, as were the stands. Brother Piack motioned for his esteemed guest to join him on the front row of seats. "Zhi'hela, Sirra Kenobi. Have a good evening?"

Obi-Wan supressed the urge to beat the man to a pulp. "A large crowd today, Sirra Piack. Something special planned?" Piack beamed, nodding. "Special indeed. You know, this day reminds me of a story my mother told me when I was young, about a great choecat that got a thorn stuck in its paw..." Obi-Wan turned, curious, to face Piack. "A thorn? What happened in the story?" Piack's eyes glowed with malicious glee. "He got rid of it."

Mizari was pushed harshly to the sands of the arena. She was still overly unsteady on her feet due to her untreated injuries from her assualt the night before. Wavering, she made her way to the center of the sands, swaying momentarily before coming to a stop. She raised her blood-shot eyes to her tormentor, her father, in a last gesture of defiance. She knew she was going to die this day, as did he. Mizari almost laughed when she noticed her father couldn't meet her gaze.

Obi-Wan jumped to his feet, a deadly rage coursing through his body. Piack sneered at him. "Sit down now, or I have her shot where she stands." Mute, Obi-Wan trembled with barely restrained intent. "My planet, my rules, Jedi. Sit. Down... or she dies now."

Obi-Wan sank slowly to the seat beneath him, his blood boiling. His eyes searched the battered form slouching on the sands. He felt his stomach twist at the massive bruises Mizari sported on her face and her arms. Their eyes met, bloody brown to stormy blue-gray. Obi-Wan knew she had resigned herself to her fate that day, whatever it might be. He flickered a glare at Piack. "Just what are you planning?" Without answering him, Piack stood and flung his hands wide, addressing the mob.

"Before you stands a great fighter. She has pleased us with many bloody battles and victories. There has been a petition for her freedom, my people. Shall I grant it?"

The crowd howled their approval, the sound thundering down to the sands. Mizari stood there, mute, her eyes still fixed to Obi-Wan's. He could see the desperation there, along with the loss of hope. She knew, as well as he did, that Piack had a trap set for this final match. Piack continued on, delighting in the thrall he held over the crowd.

"We will give her freedom if she will give us victory. Is that agreeable?"

The noise level increased with the ritual words, but Mizari didn't acknowledge it. She slowly tore her gaze from Obi-Wan's and sank to her knees. Obi-Wan could see her lips moving in what might be a prayer. Slowly, she rose after her benediction. Obi-Wan's heart ached at the flinch on her face.

Mizari eyed the weapons scattered about the arena floor. A long knife caught her attention so she crouched down to retreive it. As soon as her fingers tightened around the wrapped hilt, the arena doors opened. Mizari stood as her opponent made himself known. A young man with a nervous look on his face. She could see his hands shaking from where she waited, noticing the glint of a ring on his finger. He had a family, then.

She advanced on him swiftly, circling as he tried to follow her with his eyes. The sound of the crowd died down in her mind, leaving an eerie silence. She could see the moves she needed to win... she could feel his blood on her hands. A few quick slashes and a spin beyond his defenses left him wide open to her blade. A jab to his arm left him weaponless and bleeding. A scream caught her attention just as she was about to run the shuddering man through. Turning slightly, she saw a small woman in the lowest level of the crowd. The woman had two small children clinging to her, hiding their faces in her skirts. A shock of realization hit Mizari.

Mizari swung her arm back and hit the man cowering beneath her, knocking him out. The crowd booed and hissed its disapproval at the mercy shown, save for one. Piack made his way to the arena floor, seething, and went to stand before his daughter.

"I thought you wanted your freedom, little whore. I'll have you out from under my nose today if it's the last thing I do..."

Mizari glared at her father.

"I will not kill for you anymore."

Piack sneered at her, then gestured to his guard.

"Not even one more time?"

The guardsmen returned, dragging a slight figure behind them. They dumped her uncerimoniously to the sands. She was small and slight, grey threadding her dark hair, and Mizari felt sick when she lifted her head.

"Mama...?"

Piack shifted from foot to foot on the hot sand while he watched his daughter stare in disbelief at his haggard wife. Deadly eyes met his. Obi-Wan jumped the ledge and landed softly in the sands below. He noticed Mizari's white knuckled grip on her knife. Terse, quiet words were exchanged between father and daughter, but both were silent by the time the Jedi had reached them.

Obi-Wan stared as Mizari turned to face her mother. With trembling hands, she traced her mother's features, whispering words of solace and apology. Mizari crouched down and drew her mother in her arms, hugging her. Before Obi-Wan could respond, Mizari reached around her shoulder and drew the blade of her knife across her mothers throat. Obi-Wan stood frozen, staring at his lover.

Mizari clutched her mothers twitching body until it stilled, then gently lay her down. Piack smiled in unrestrained mirth as Mizari turned to face him again. Her weary eyes flitted to meet his.

"I have done what you asked."

Piack moved forward, making a show of removing the bracelets on Mizari's wrists, freeing her. Now a freedman, she stood, staring at the sands that had been her life. Her mind didn't register that her father was speaking to her until she was prodded by one of his guards to listen.

He asked her what her first action as a freedman was going to be. Her response was swift. Mizari raised one blood covered hand and wiped it down her father's fine robes, staining the silken fabric. "Her blood stains you even more than it stains me... You'll never wash it clean." With that, Mizari turned and left the sands...

"Mizari! Wait!"

Mizari ignored the voice and continued to walk away. Rough hands grabbed her arms and spun her around. Obi-Wan's hands tightened on her arms as she tried to struggle away.

"What the hells was that?"

Mizari's eyes blazed up to his.

"You wouldn't understand if I told you, Kenobi."

"Try me..."

Mizari stared at him for a moment, then looked away.

"It was the last thing I could give to her..."

Obi-Wan paused in his ranting.

"Piack told me what would happen if I killed myself on the arena floor... and what would happen if I tried to kill him. The end result was the same... and I couldn't let that happen. So I gave her what I crave most..."

Her eyes searched his, begging him to understand.

"Freedom."

Mizari nodded, tears beginning to fall.

"Freedom... from pain, and fear, and hunger... She knows peace now..."

Obi-Wan gently brushed his fingers across her cheek, blurring the tear tracks.

"Come with me. You need peace, too. Let me help you find it."

Mizari reached up to her cheek, clasping her hand over his. She squeezed softly for a moment, then pulled his hand away.

"I can't. My soul is tainted by all the blood on my hands."

Obi-Wan started to protest, but was silenced by soft lips on his. He willingly sank into the embrace, closing his eyes and savoring her. He could taste her tears as she kissed him. The gentle pressure was suddenly gone, and he opened his eyes to see her walking away...

**********************************************************************
Three years later...
**********************************************************************

Piack settled down beside his new wife. His world was in turmoil now, beseiged by civil war. Many factions wanted the gaming slaves freed, saying that the practice of slavery was barbaric. "Barbaric, indeed... I'll show you barbaric..," Piack muttered, just before sleep overcame him. He was weary, planning for a mass execution was hard work...

Shadows filled the darkend room , stretching in every direction. One shadow stealthily seperated from its sisters, moving silently towards the bed. A glimmer of silver flickered in the night, and with a whisper of air, was gone...

A form settled on the ledge outside of Piack's window, cleaning a thin gilded blade. The black gloved hands slid the blade back into it's scabbard, then clenched reflexivly.

"What's a little more blood on my hands..."