#obikinweek17

[glimmerglanger]

old guard au: i think the thing that hurts the most about this is the fact that anakin believes that obi-wan would choose exile WITHOUT telling him in person. i can see he's done something terrible that might make obi-wan upset with him but anakin, honey, did you really think you meant so little to obi-wan that he wouldn't (at LEAST) have heard you out? this pain has palpatine written over it and i HATE it, i can't wait for when obi-wan gets to run him through. also!! i love you and this au :D

:DDDD I definitely think this is an au where Anakin did awful things (AGAIN), likely involving the rest of their group of immortal friends, on Palpatine’s orders. And after, feeling hollow inside, covered in healing wounds, he’d returned to Palpatine’s chambers, found him staring out the window, clean and calm.

And he’d asked, “Where’s Obi-Wan?” because that had been part of the agreement. No harm was to come to Obi-Wan through any of this. No matter if he disagreed with their methods or not, he was to be kept safe.

Palpatine shook his head, sadly. Below them, the city was burning on his orders, but Anakin had lit the fires, his last task on the lengthy mission he’d undertaken. He’d been gone for so long. “I’m afraid he could not bear to stay.”

The world tilted off-kilter. He’d known Obi-Wan wouldn’t be happy, but he’d been sure he could make Obi-Wan understand the necessity of what they’d done. “What?” he managed to ask, hurting inside, the way it hurt when someone ran him through with a sword. “No, that’s not possible, he--”

“It was his choice,” Palpatine said, silky and calm, gesturing Anakin closer. “Come here. Let me tell you what happens now.”

[darthsharapova]

Obikin Week Day 2: Second Chance

Everyone deserves a second chance.

That was the saying, wasn’t it? That no matter what happens, no matter good or bad, that everyone should get a redo? Should be able to try again? If that was the case, why was Obi-Wan sitting in the healers wing next to a fallen Anakin? The Force barely a whisper swirling around his former Padawan. The young man once so strong in the Force now barely hanging on. It wasn’t he who needed the second chance, no, it was the frail older man at his side.

Obi-Wan clutched Anakin’s hand with both of his, pressing his head into the cot. He’d been at his side for hours, and the words spilling out of his mouth seemed to make no sense. He wasn’t sure what he pleaded for anymore. Was it for Anakin to recover, or for him to even wake up for only a little bit? Obi-Wan wanted Anakin to see how much he truly did care for him, despite the way he always brushed off the younger mans advanced.

“It’s against the code, dear one.” He’d said at the beginning. Always a cop out answer, and he knew it too. Could see the oh so tiny hurt that would hide behind Anakin’s eyes. The oceans that could, and would, drown you if you stared into them for a little longer than you should.

“The Council would never approve, Anakin.” Obi-Wan had started to say once his resolve had weakened some. He’d become prone to the lingering touches they’d shared. The brisk kisses in the deserted halls of the temple behind the massive marble pillars, or the more meaningful sensual kisses they’d shared in the privacy of their apartment. Anakin would always say it was ok, as long as they had each other. He was right, but Obi-Wan always found a way to resist.

The day before Anakin had left for his mission, he’d told his Master he loved him. Obi-Wan’s eyes had gone wide, and he stammered over his words, not finding what he deemed a suitable response. His insides screamed at him to say “I love you too, Anakin. I always have.” His mind strangled the idea in his throat, and all he could say was “Anakin…”. A sad murmur that hung in the air between the two of them.

Obi-Wan stared into the younger Jedi’s eyes, looking for anything to gauge his feelings. The other man turned this neck to the side, though, the hurt overpowering his side of their bond.

“I don’t know when I’ll be back.” He whispered.

“Shouldn’t be too long since it’s only a diplomatic mission and everything. No risk involved, I just wanted to tell you.” The Chosen One’s eyes glued to the floor. Obi-Wan had only given a curt nod and a pathetic ‘Very well. May the Force be with you.’

Missions went wrong, though. Even the simples ones. They knew that better than anyone. One moment there’s peace, and another a local gang is shooting up the village. Locals and tourists hurt, but Anakin had been caught up in the brunt of it. The Force not warning him in time.

So it was with these turn of events that Obi-Wan had found himself here, begging the Force to give Anakin back to him. His presence in the Force grew weaker each hour. Obi-Wan allowed tears to fall as he kissed each of Anakin’s knuckles. He held the hand to his forehead as he looked up above.

“Please, you must give him back to me.” He cried, still only whispering.

“The second chance isn’t for him. It’s for me.” He paused then, gulping down a sob that threatened to come.

“Please. Please help me. I l-..I love him.”

Obi-Wan’s head dropped to the bed and he wept. Truly wept for the first time since Qui-Gon. He wept for the chance of losing a love that was true. Losing a love that he’d been pushing away for all the wrong reasons. He wept for losing a love that wasn’t just love, but Anakin. His Anakin. But most of all, he wept because if everyone was supposed to get a second chance, why wasn’t he getting his?

[clarespace]

fic: just a little bit

[obi-wan/anakin] pg. 1942 words.

Anakin took a deep breath and leaned into Obi-Wan’s space. Obi-Wan kept his ground and arched a brow at him. This was curious.

‘I like being tied up,’ Anakin whispered conspiratorially.

Obi-Wan blinked. ‘I beg your pardon?’

a/n: obikin week! secrets/confession. just a really silly thing. 

ao3 or 

-

They were on their way back to their respective bedrooms when Anakin stopped Obi-Wan with a hand on his shoulder. Obi-Wan glanced back at him expectantly. Anakin stared at Obi-Wan, eyes wider than normal.

‘Yes, Anakin?’ prompted Obi-Wan. He was tired, jittery, and felt cluttered with emotions. That was unacceptable in the middle of a delicate mission such as the one they were embroiled in (not that physical and emotional exhaustion was any less dangerous in a literally explosive environment). A bit of meditation would do wonders before heading off to bed - as soon as his former Padawan saw it fit to let him go.

Anakin took a deep breath and leaned into Obi-Wan’s space. Obi-Wan kept his ground and arched a brow at him. This was curious.

'I like being tied up,’ Anakin whispered conspiratorially.

Obi-Wan blinked. 'I beg your pardon?’

Shrugging, Anakin’s hand slid off to clasp behind his back. 'It’s no big deal. I mean, some people like to do it doggy style, others prefer missionary, and I fancy being tied up.’

'You - ’ Obi-Wan pinched the bridge of his nose and asked the Force for an extra dose of patience. 'What are you talking about, Anakin?’

'I was just sharing information that I haven’t told you before,’ Anakin explained, smiling at Obi-Wan as if Obi-Wan was the foolish one between them. Somehow.

Obi-Wan pinched the fold of skin harder; it was starting to help. 'Why in Force’s name do you think I want to know that?’

Anakin smiled in a rather patronising way. 'You said it yourself: we need to trust each other more.’

'And you think telling me that you like being tied up is a road to trust, do you?’

'Well, yeah.’ Anakin looked bewildered. 'I also like getting spanked, although the first time, I have to admit, wasn’t that much fun, but it was only because - ’

'Sith’s balls, Anakin, it’s impolite to suddenly force knowledge regarding your sexual proclivities to someone unwilling to know them!’

Anakin reared back in shock, placing a hand on his chest. 'You don’t want to know?’ he asked, sounding utterly crushed.

'No! I mean, yes, I absolutely do not.’

'But,’ Anakin looked bewildered, 'I want to tell you. I trust you, Obi-Wan.’

Obi-Wan wiped a hand down his face. 'Force, Anakin, are you doing this to get back at me for saying that to you?’

The furrow between his eyebrows deepened. 'Get back at - of course not, Master!’ He grabbed Obi-Wan’s hand and held it tightly to his chest. 'I would never. Well, alright, normally I would, but not about this. This is sacred between us.’

'Your spanking?’ said Obi-Wan, weary.

'This,’ he gestured between them, 'trust between you and me. It is one of the most precious things to me, Master. You are priceless. I would never take that for granted or make a joke at its expense.’ Anakin stuck out his lower lip at him. 'Please believe me.’

Obi-Wan was worryingly weak against that face. If only Anakin could wear a different one. Ridiculous, he knew, but even Jedi weren’t immune to pleading eyes and pouting lips.

Pleading eyes that were just slightly dazed and pouting lips that were stained even redder with wine. Reaching out, Obi-Wan cupped Anakin’s cheek in his palm. Anakin sighed happily and leaned into the touch.

'Anakin, look at me.’

Anakin did, soft and unfocused.

'Did the Ambassador give you something to drink? Something other than the berry wine at the start of dinner?’ It would explain the sense of frazzled energy buzzing under his skin. It was likely coming from Anakin, leaking through their bond. Usually, Obi-Wan’s shields were ironclad but he had decided to keep their bond open for the length of this particular mission. Obi-Wan wouldn’t necessarily be affected in the same way if Anakin had taken something, but it would harder to manage the overflow. He steadied his shields but the sensation remained. Worrying, that.

'He refilled my cup,’ said Anakin, taking two steps directly into Obi-Wan’s personal space. 'It was delicious. I loved it. Kind of bitter with sweet notes, just like when I don’t spit but - ’

A blush scorched Obi-Wan’s cheeks and he yanked his hand away, coughing into it. 'Enough, Anakin,’ he said, knowing from the Force that they were alone in this stretch of corridor but glancing around anyway to make sure.

Anakin took Obi-Wan’s chin in his fingers and tilted his face up. The haziness in his eyes sharpened at the edges as he stared down at Obi-Wan. 'And you, Master? What do you like?’

Obi-Wan wrapped his fingers around Anakin’s wrist, keeping him still. 'Meditation, Anakin, I like that. The Code, too.’

'Oh, I’m sure we can come up with a few more things you might enjoy,’ said Anakin, a rumble coming into his voice.

'My former Padawan not accepting untested drinks in the midst of a negotiation with a semi-hostile Neutral party is something I rather want to happen.’

Anakin moved even closer until he hovered over Obi-Wan. 'But don’t you ever think about a tongue in your arse, Master?’ asked Anakin, earnest and concerned, as if Obi-Wan’s lack of imagination was a failing.

Obi-Wan tried to keep his expression indifferent but there was no helping the fierce blush conquering his face. He firmly pried away Anakin’s hold on his chin and may have squeezed his wrist harder than necessary.

'No, Anakin, I’ve never thought about it.’ Now, trying it is a different matter altogether. Quiet, Kenobi.

Anakin let go of Obi-Wan’s jaw, and Obi-Wan breathed a quiet sigh of relief which turned into a rather obvious groan when Anakin’s hand made a detour into Obi-Wan’s hair. ‘You’re drugged,’ said Obi-Wan, mostly to himself, and tried to ignore how Anakin was now combing through his hair. ‘The prudent course of action would be to use the Force to burn through it but we don’t know the substance and dosage our lovely host gave you.’

Anakin nodded. ‘Fucking while your high can be enjoyable with the right spice.’

That was too much insight into Anakin’s extracurricular activities than Obi-Wan wanted to learn. He would never think of controlling Anakin’s actions but it was his lifelong dream that Anakin would learn to be even just a little bit sensible. Through osmosis, if nothing else.

Something must show on his face because Anakin gave a lopsided smile and said, ‘You know I’m clean, Master. One good thing about routine examinations after every mission. Just means I can be messy again afterwards.’

‘That’s not exactly reassuring, my dear, but I’ll take it.’

‘Oh, I bet you can – ’

‘Anakin!’

Anakin grinned unrepentantly.

Sighing, Obi-Wan pushed Anakin’s fringe back from his face and let the soft curls sift between his fingers. ‘It’s too dangerous to leave you alone tonight. Force knows what’ll happen if you wander unsupervised and come across someone less than kind.’

‘I wish you’d be less kind to me, Master,’ said Anakin, a wistful note layered into his voice. ‘It makes what I think I’m going to do too difficult.’

Ignoring him would be the wisest thing to do at the moment. Obi-Wan gently uncurled Anakin’s fingers from his hair and gave a small pat to the back of his hand. ‘There, let’s go.’ A different mood fell over Anakin as Obi-Wan led them to his chambers, the exuberance twisting into something with more of an edge. The silence grated at Obi-Wan’s nerves and he kept an alert eye on his surroundings. Obi-Wan prodded at their bond and frowned; it was still heightening his own emotions. It was inconceivable that their host would jeopardise the armistice, although drugging a Jedi Knight, not to mention a prominent General in the war, was tantamount to treason. As far as Obi-Wan could tell, Anakin was given something to lower his inhibitions in hopes that the right (or wrong, in this case) person would find him and pry secrets from his loose tongue. Obi-Wan recalled Ambassador Eik’s displeased expression when Anakin had turned down further conversation to accompany Obi-Wan back to their rooms and was glad for once that Anakin enjoyed shadowing him so much. Something much more sinister could have happened to him. Obi-Wan’s fingers twitched for his lightsaber and he crossed his arms.

Fortunately, they made it to Obi-Wan’s bedroom without trouble. Obi-Wan searched through the Force and found no immediate threats inside. Still, the tension lingered on his shoulders as he took off his outer robe and draped it over the back of a chair. Anakin threw himself on one of the lounges in the sitting room, boots digging into the soft pillows.

‘Must you, Anakin?’

‘When you keep making that face, yeah.’

‘It’s good to know that, drugged or not, you’re still intent on making my life hard.’

The corner of Anakin’s mouth twitched. ‘I can give you hard, Obi-Wan.’

‘Shush, you. This is a serious predicament we’re in. We must report this to the Council. The repercussions of this will not be taken lightly by the Senate.’

‘Can we stop playing war for a moment?’ pleaded Anakin.

‘This isn’t a game, Anakin.’

‘I know. I just – ’ He made a frustrated noise and stared up at the vaulted ceiling. ‘I feel strange, Master.’

Concern drew Obi-Wan’s brows together. Conflicting priorities pulled at him. On one hand, there was the war and the Jedi Council. On the other, Anakin. Obi-Wan took a deep breath. ‘Strange, how?’ he asked, taking the few steps towards the sofa.

Anakin waved a hand at his head. ‘My thoughts are tangled. I know they usually are but it feels like I can say or do anything I want and there won’t be consequences. I can’t afford that.’ Anakin scowled. ‘And my kriffing head hurts as if a herd of Banthas is marching across it.’

‘I may have a solution.’

Letting out a groan, Anakin covered his face with his hands. ‘If you suggest meditation, I’ll have no choice but to bend you over my knee and spank you myself.’

They both fell silent.

‘Um. Master, I meant no disrespect.’

‘Clearly, my dear,’ said Obi-Wan dryly. He stood over Anakin’s prone form. ‘Thought about it a lot, have you?’

It was gratifying to see Anakin turn red with embarrassment. ‘I – no?’

‘We’ll have to file this away under the many, many things we should never talk about ever again.’ Obi-Wan tapped a finger thoughtfully on his elbow.

Anakin peeked through his fingers up at him.

Eventually, Obi-Wan’s shoulders drooped and he gave a resigned sigh. ‘What do I do with you, Anakin? And please don’t say I should tie you up and put a gag in your mouth because I have a feeling you’ll enjoy that.’

‘If – if that’s what you want, Master, then I would not be opposed – ’

Obi-Wan went down on his knees and placed a palm over Anakin’s mouth; he felt him squeak in surprise. Anakin’s hands fell away from his face, revealing wide, trusting eyes. ‘No more speaking, dear one. Lift your head up.’ He sat down on the sofa with Anakin’s head on his lap. Obi-Wan brushed aside a few wayward strands of his hair. ‘Good. This is what we’ll do, Anakin.’

‘What?’ asked Anakin, teeth sinking into his lower lip.

Smiling down fondly at him, Obi-Wan placed a hand on his solar plexus. ‘We’ll breathe together.’

The pout came back. ‘That’s meditation, Master,’ he pointed out.

‘For tonight, we’ll call it breathing. Close your eyes, Anakin. Go to your happy place.’

‘What if I’m already there?’ asked Anakin, lips curling up, dimple winking.

Oh, this boy will be the death of him. ‘Then the rest will be easy.’

[selcier]

From the North

Summary:

The Sith Drake from the Northern region of Tatooine attacks the Jedi Temple in Coruscant looking for a Jedi to tame the flames of his origin. Sun-dragons, born of the stars, burn in the Force with unparalleled passion and rage. Jedi Knight Obi-wan Kenobi is singled out by the Drake Vader as a partner of serenity and peace to balance his own instability.

not-a-dragon!Vader

Obikin Week Day 5: Quotes

Inspiration:

“The first they heard was a noise like a hurricane coming down from the North; the pines on the mountain creaked and cracked in the hot, dry wind. He was a fire-drake from the North.”

-Tolkien

Warning; this is utter shit. haha I may keep going if y’all like it...so let me know! Otherwise it will be left to die.

@obikinweek

Chapter 1

“The first they heard was a noise like a hurricane coming down from the North; the pines on the mountain creaked and cracked in the hot, dry wind. He was a fire-drake from the North.”

The engines of the spiraling fighter scream as it plunges up and around the towers of the city, dodging cannon fire and static bursts. The gurgling suck of the intake valves shudder and pop in the high winds overhead. With every pass of the city, a round of scattered fire tops out over the military instillations forcing the soldiers to scramble for cover.

From their position in the Jedi Temple, the Masters crowd the wide windows vying for a glance at the sleek red ship. They lean over each other, necks stretched out in the blustering winds. The shadow of it blankets the city in a dark smear as its massive wingspan tears through the atmosphere.

Mace Windu shouts orders into his communicator over the fray of pitched voices as more and more of the city erupts into flames. “I want canons set up in every defensive position. Defend the populous at all costs. And make sure to get birds in the air- we won’t have much of a fight on the ground.” He looks up sharply to the room. “And all of you, get to your posts!”

The Jedi in the room scatter with their brown robes streaming behind them.

Obi-wan meets them in the dark hall to the Temple bay. Emergency lights line the walls directing the small crowd of Jedi deep into the base of the mountain the Temple rests on. They are silent as they walk, haste making their steps echo through the rock walls.

The air over the city is thick with smoke and discharge once they’re in the air. Obi-wan steers his small fighter though the smog, straining up higher into the sky, his eyes pealed for the Drake. His light craft stumbles through the strong winds, jostling him in his restraints. “This is why I hate flying,” he mumbles as another jerk throws him forward.

From his vantage point he can see the city stretching out across the rolling hills and up to the edge of the forested mountains. Fires dot the streets and dwellings; smoke billowing up into the air in thick black plumes. Tiny pinpricks of white, the city guard, hurry along the walls to gun turrets and fighter hangers.

His computer pings at him as soon as the Force warns him. He jerks the yoke to the side, spinning out of the fire burst just as the Drake breaks through the smoke behind him like a giant crimson krayt dragon. The thrum of its engines cough and thump seeming to almost suck in his own craft off its course.

They spin in a tight corkscrew down through the cloud layers and around the city in a sharp bank. Obi-wan evades, the Force guiding him, as the Drake showers him in suppressive fire. He aims for the fields and mountains surrounding the city hoping to draw the enormous fighter away from the innocent.

For a moment, his attention is diverted to avoiding a cannon shell from his own side and the Drake lands a shot on his wing. It erupts into a flaming hulk of twisted metal; the force of the explosion throwing the whole fighter into a dangerous twist towards the earth. “Blast,” Obi-wan says, punching in command codes. His yoke is unresponsive but he reverses thrusters to slow his descent.

His hands fly up instinctively to protect his head when he hits the ground.

******

He wakes up on the forest floor, his mouth full of dirt and his back contorted. He groans, trying to roll over onto his side.

“I wouldn’t move it I were you,” says a rough voice.

Obi-wan stills, his hands fisting through the dirt and pine needles. He tilts his head in the direction of the sound, straining his neck to see.

A man sits on a large rock, one knee drawn up to his chest; shadowed in the thick scrub of the forest. “You flew from the cockpit. Skidded to a stop.”

“Oh,” Obi-wan says, his mind clouded and his muscles choked with pain. “Well, I don’t think I’ve broken anything.”

He struggles to sit, pulling his arms and legs underneath him until he can balance on one thigh by leaning up against the trunk of a nearby tree. The man watches him, his eyes glowing in the dim light.

From his new position, Obi-wan see the remains of his fighter in the distance, a ruined shell of snapping electronics and burnt engine. Both wings are completely gone, probably ripped off by the trees. Luckily, the hatch lock had opened when his safety restraints failed so he didn’t go head-first through the transparisteel.

Obi-wan looks down at his legs. It occurs to him that this is a less than ideal situation but he can’t seem to think of a solution. He rubs at his forehead.

“You probably have a concussion. You hit the ground at high speed.”

“Yes, thank you,” Obi-wan says, annoyed. “I do remember that.”

The man stands from his place on the rock and comes close enough that Obi-wan has to look up at his face. He’s clothed in all black. Except, Obi-wan notes, swallowing the rise of apprehension in this throat, for the shining silver case of his lightsaber.

“I don’t believe we’ve be introduced,” Obi-wan says clearing his throat. “I am Obi-wan Kenobi, Jedi Knight.”

The man tilts his head. “We’ve never met before,” he says.

Obi-wan sighs. “Yes, I mean, no we haven’t. I was attempting to make polite conversation before you take off my head. Although, it was rather cruel of you to wait until now. You could have done it while I was passed out on the ground.”

“That doesn’t sound like a Jedi principle to me,” he says. His fingers ghost over his saber.

“Yes, well, that’s more of the human side of me talking there. You must understand that I’ve hit my head rather hard and I’m not quite in my right mind.” He smiles up at the man. “If you’ll allow me to seek medical attention I might manage to sound more Jedi-like.”

The man grins at him then, showing his white teeth in a vulgar smile. “We haven’t met but you must be the Negotiator.”

“And it's been quite rude of you to decline from providing your name to me seeing as you are aware of mine,” Obi-wan says crossing his arms over his chest. His back aches with the effort and his breath comes in short pants for a moment. “I still have nothing to call you other than Lord Drake of the Sith.”

Crouching down in front of him, the man reaches out to grab at his chin and forces his head up to meet his gaze. His eyes, a deep yellow ringed with a red poison, narrow as his anger flashes out in the Force.

Obi-wan winces at the harsh treatment.

“You’ve got quite a tongue for someone on the ground.”

“I endeavor to excel in all fields. Not just in the ‘saber ring.”

The Drake releases his chin and reaches for utility belt instead. “Its Vader,” he says.

“Oh well then I suppose it's a pleasure-” Obi-wan’s words cut off as the Sith presses a cloth over his nose. His head swims for a murky moment of disorientation before his vision darkens and his eyes roll back.

*******

“We found you just outside the city walls,” Mace says, steepling his hands in front of him. “With no indication of how you got here. But the Healers have deemed you fit to move about, despite your injuries.”

The light behind his bald head blinds Obi-wan in the center of the Council Chambers. He squints at the Master, unsteady on his feet.

“I was shot down,” he says, furrowing his brow to remember. “I crashed in the forest, I think. And there was a man there when I woke up. The Sith actually, if the stories about their eyes are to be believed.”

The Master around the circle murmur at this words, glancing between themselves. Yoda’s ears twitch and he taps his walking stick on the edge of his low chair. “A Sith you say? From the North?”

Obi-wan clears his throat. “Yes, he ah… he must have followed me when I crashed.”

Mace and Yoda turn to look at each other, their faces grave. “There hasn’t been a Drake seen over Coruscant for almost five years.” Mace says.

Ki Adi Mundi rubs his chin. “That Drake chose no Jedi that day. Perhaps this is the same one? Is evident that he was no marauder. The attack was brief, probably meant only a lure to flush out the Jedi”

The Masters turn to Obi-wan and he has to fold his arms into the sleeves of his robe. “I wasn’t present in Coruscant that day. I remember being on a mission to Alderaan to assist the Prince with a diplomatic meeting.” He pauses, his eyes scanning the room. “Masters, are you suggesting that I...that I-” He can’t finish his questions. The absurdity of it plugs the words in his mouth.

“To be chosen is a great honor, Knight Kenobi,” Mundi says. “‘The Drake is born of the Sun and to the flames it will return if its fire is not quenched’. This Drake must have thought you an appropriate companion.”

Obi-wan scowls. “With all due respect, Masters, I am hardly the pinnacle of Jedi serenity. I would be the first to admit that my shortcomings.”

“But it is the Sith who decides, Young Obi-wan,” Plo Koon says, speaking up for the first time. “It is only for you to accept or decline.”

“And soon,” Mace adds. “If you decide to accept, you will meet during the summer solstice at the place you first met. That is only three weeks from now.”

“It seems this Drake was desperate; to come to the city so soon before the solstice,” Mundi says. He folds his hands and leans back in his chair. “It is not like them to wait for so long.”

“Reports we have, from Naboo and Ryloth of a Drake in their skies,” Yoda adds. “Looking for some time, this Drake must have been.”

Obi-wan shifts on his feet, as he looks back forth between the Masters as they talk. Their words run together in his mind in a long string of nonsense. He can barely think to untangle the knot of his thoughts. “I’m not- there must be-” he starts, his face hot. “How can it be me?”

Yoda watches him, his lips pressed together. “Clouded the Force is at times. Hard to see it is. But guide you, it will Knight Kenobi. You must only listen.”

[glare-gryphon]

Evermore Pt 1

Whoops I wanted to have this whole fic done in time for Obikin Week, but that did not happen due to extenuating real life circumstances up to and including: purchasing a vehicle, starting a full-time job, and moving 400 miles from home on... about a week’s notice, really. So yeah, it’s been wild. I’ve got about 10k words that I will try to expand upon during the week and put more chapters up. This fic is mostly for days 1: Mistake/Regret, 2: Second Chances, & 3: Confession.

Read it here, or on Ao3

Evermore: Pt 1/~10

Rating: M

Tags: Alternative Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternative Universe - Gladiators, Alternative Universe - Beauty & the Beast, Graphic Violence, Slavery.

The dream has haunted Obi-Wan for as long as he can remember. Sands, suns, and a beast with eyes that burn like fire.

The heat of Tatooine's twin suns is as oppressive as it was the day the Naboo Starskiff crashed in the bleak wasteland of the Tatooine desert. It beats mercilessly down upon him, singing anew the perpetually burnt skin on his nose and cheeks, the tips of his ears. Even after all this time, he has not been able to develop anything close to a tan; such is the curse of birth in a fair-weather climate.

Resting in its sheath on his hip, the hide-bound hilt if his sword is an almost reassuring weight. Not quite, of course; it is not the hilt of his lightsaber, his weapon, his life. But the durasteel sword is as close as he's gotten to that weapon in a very, very long time. He longs to reach for the blade and pull it free, to eye the runes that run along the length of the blade. Symbols for protection, victory, a swift death, forged in dragon fire and glowing softly with the residual power left behind in their creation. Obi-Wan knows them as well as he knows himself, and takes comfort in their familiarity. The binders clasped around his wrists, keeping them pinned behind his back, prevent him from fulfilling that urge.

At the lip of the sunken arena, in the carved stone stands, the witnesses of this spectacle make their voices knows. They chant and yell and scream, a cacophony that may have deafened lesser men. But Obi-Wan has stood before them a hundred times before; has been on the receiving end of their jaunts and cheers. It's easy to drown them out—to focus inward and prepare himself for the coming fight. For survival.

Or at least, it used to be.

There is none of that battle-calm now, watching from the Hutt’s private box as the gates slide open on either side of the arena. Instead his heart thunders treacherously in his ears as a figure steps into the ring from the far gate, drowning out the roar of the crowd and the Hutt’s cackling laughter. The figure appears so small in comparison to the vastness of the arena. Obi-Wan knows who this is, however, even from this distance. Knows those battered, brown robes and the magnetic pull of connection even before a green lightsaber springs to life in the figure’s hands. It makes watching the Gammorian Guard, with their axes and electro-pikes, poke and prod at a beast in the shadows of the cage to the figure’s opposite all the more the more horrible. Watching the creature in the shadows unfurl, larger and larger and larger, until you begin to wonder just how something so big fit into a cage so small. Something painful twists in Obi-Wan's chest as the beast emerges, as though some unseen opponent had driven their weapon through it. He knew this was coming, but that doesn’t make the moment any less horrifying. Doesn’t make the searing, agonizing pain in his chest any easier to handle. Not this. He would take anything, do anything, face anyone if it meant sparing himself from this moment. Oh please, please, Force, no—

Obi-Wan starts awake with a ragged gasp, jerking upright, chest heaving, as his gaze flickers around him. He isn't in the strange arena now, however. The roar of the crowds has been replaced by the soft hum of the ship’s auxiliary generators. The heat that sticks his skin to his tunics is not from the planet’s twin suns, but the standard temperature of the climate-controlled engine room. He is not in the arena now.

The thought repeats itself inside of Obi-Wan’s head as he rises from his makeshift bed: little more than his travelling cloak laid out across the floor and his tabards wadded up in a rudimentary pillow. Any living quarters available aboard the ship are otherwise occupied by the Queen, her handmaidens, or the skiff’s crew. It doesn’t bother Obi-Wan, who has slept in worse places over the course of his apprenticeship under Qui-Gon Jinn. He is simply grateful for shelter from the elements.  

He's not in the arena now.

For as long as Obi-Wan can remember, the dream has plagued his sleeping hours. It disturbed his rest in the creche, sending him fleeing into the arms of his guardians with tales of dragons and duels and death as his heart tore itself apart inside his chest. They had taken him into their arms, comforted him, but Obi-Wan Kenobi was never known for a gift of precognition. All dreams pass in time, they would say, stroking his hair until he calmed before sending him back to bed with his crechemates. There is only so many times one can hear it before the words begin to lose their meaning.

In his padawan years, the dreams wax and wane like tides. Sometimes days, months, will pass between their visitations. Other times he will wake, sweaty and panting, ears ringing with a phantom crowd's scream, every single night. He'd been frightened to approach Qui-Gon on the matter, fearing the same rejection from the Master he so loved, but the pressure of secrecy broke his will before long. As it turns out, the future is always in motion is just as exhausting to hear as all dreams pass in time.

The future is always in motion, but the dream is a constant. It feels like a certainty, like a boulder in the center of a vast, raging river. The very stream of time parts around it, caving to the power of that moment. Obi-Wan had been too clumsy, too inexperienced in the ways of the Force, to understand it as a child. He is not a child anymore, however. He can feel the Force woven through every moment of his suffering. This will be his destiny, no matter what paths he chooses to tread.

The path he treads now is one leading out of the engine room, into the cooler halls of the ship and their sterile, white light. At this hour, there is hardly anyone left awake. The sandstorm that had driven them all inside had started only shortly before dusk, and Obi-Wan would estimate that it must be the middle of the night now.

His suspicions are confirmed as he walks the halls of the ship, no clear destination in mind, just to keep moving. Just to keep thoughts of the dream at bay. The only beings he passes over the course of his wanderings are a few mouse droids, encountered in the ship’s cargo hold. They’ve formed a small conversation circle, chattering to each other in their strange language. Obi-Wan does not have any particular attachment to droids, can not understand them, but he finds their antics quite amusing in this instance.

Apparently, he isn’t the only one. Soft, melodic laughter sounds from just behind him, startling the padawan. He must truly be out of sorts to have not noticed another’s approach. Fortunately the presence is neither hostile nor particularly dangerous, in this instance. Just one of the Queen’s handmaidens, smiling fondly down at the droids over Obi-Wan’s shoulder. Obi-Wan does not know her name, but the shade of her eyes is just so subtly darker than those of the Queen’s, allowing Obi-Wan to identify her as her own person instead of just the Queen’s handmaidens.

“One of them has just spoken with the ship,” she confides, “and it seems to be quite unhappy about the sandstorm earlier. They’re glad to be indoors; they don’t think their circuits would hold up well out there.”

“You speak binary?” Obi-Wan asks, stepping aside to allow her more fully into the small cargo bay.

A faint flush rises to her cheeks, and she sheepishly admits, “I have a fondness for mechanics. It’s easier to get to the root of a problem when you can speak to them.”

“I’d imagine there’s not much mechanical work to be done, when you’re accompanying the Queen.” The purpose of the handmaidens is to be indistinguishable, to hide the Queen from dangers and prying eyes. Individuality does no one favors when your goal is to be identical.

Her smile falters slightly at his comment. “No, not really. In our off hours though, when the Queen is on planet and our presence is not required, we are permitted to pursue our own interests.”

“Is that what has you up in the middle of the night?”

“I read that this planet has three moons,” she says, “just like home. Now that the sandstorm has died down, I want to see whether they shine as brightly as our own.”

Her statement is innocuous, innocent, but it scratches at something in the back of Obi-Wan’s mind. Something that reminds him of the weight pressing down and the dream he’d almost forgotten about over the course of their conversation. “You’re not intending to go outside, are you?”

She smiles at him, a wry thing thrown over her shoulder as she makes her way toward the cargo ramp’s controls. “Where else would I see the sky? The pilots are asleep in the cockpit, and I don’t want to disturb them.”

“It’s dangerous to go out at night!” Obi-Wan protests.

“So come with me, Master Jedi,” she replies, pressing a button and lowering the ramp. “I’m sure with your skill, you can keep me safe.”

In the end, Obi-Wan does not learn whether or not Tatooine’s moons shine as brightly as those orbiting Naboo. With the Force clamoring in his ears, he does not notice the Raiders coming until it is far too late to stop them. Until they have the handmaiden, a dusty, scavenged blaster pressed to her skull. Until he has no other option but to drop his lightsaber—his weapon, his life—to the sand in surrender. This is not what he saw in his dreams, but the padawan knows somewhere in his gut that this is where the nightmare begins.

Then, with the swing of another Raider’s gaffa stick, Obi-Wan knows no more.

[victuurayyy]

Today is day five of Obikin Week! And I present you with a freaking long piece (oops).

The prompt for today is Quotes.

Summary:

The life of a royal is not easy. To be in love as a royal is harder. To be in love but unable to be with the person your heart belongs to is the hardest. It's a dream that none can grasp.

[limitlessshipping]

QUOTES for Obikin week. I may have taken it a bit too far and came up with a whole Anne of Green Gables AU.

[icsek]

For Day 1: Mistakes/Regrets

Ch. 1 Regretting a Mistake

“Anakin, I can’t keep doing this anymore.”

Anakin’s head snapped up from where he’d been angrily trying to fix one of the many projects he left scattered over their quarters. The angry retort he’d had stopped in his throat as soon as his eyes met Obi-Wan’s sad blue-gray eyes. Now panic rose, heart beating loudly in his chest and ears as he quickly groped for their bond to feel for his Master. Instead of the usual gentle hum of calm feelings, he met a hard wall, nothing leaking from behind the shield that had been erected around Obi-Wan’s mind.

“Ma-Master?” He’d never been kept from Obi-Wan’s presence like this, there’d always been some sort of affection or reassurance, even when they’d had to shield from each other. When none came, he dropped the machine he’d been tinkering with and stumbled towards his Master, legs struggling to work against the rising tide of emotions threatening to wash over him.

Obi-Wan smiled sadly and shook his head, “You rely on me too much, you’re too attached and I’ve let it go on long enough. It’s time for you to stand on your own and be the Jedi I know you will be.”

“No! I’m not strong enough without you, Master. You can’t leave me!” Anakin grabbed Obi-Wan’s arm, pleading with him. “Please, Obi-Wan! I can’t do this without you! Not you too, please!” When his Master gently pried his fingers from his arm, it felt like the ground gave way beneath his feet. He sank to the floor as his Master walked out of their quarters without so much as a backwards look and the door slid shut behind him. Belatedly he realized that none of his Mast-no, Obi-Wan’s, belongings had been in his room when he’d returned from another Council reprimand.

Minutes turned to hours as he was lost in his mind and the force, moving from sorrow to anger, fear clawing at the shields keeping him from Obi-Wan’s presence. His attempts only grew more desperate as he felt something pull the threads of the bond, ripping each lovingly reinforced seam as if it was nothing. Tears streamed down his face, but he was unaware of them, unaware of anything other than the gaping hole of nothing when the bond finally severed.

When he finally returned to the here and now, he was no longer in the quarters he’d called home with Obi-Wan for nearly the past fifteen years. Instead, he was laying in a soft bed in one of the private rooms in the Halls of Healing. His head was screaming in agonizing pain and he reached for Obi-Wan in their bond to make sure he was okay. When he encountered only the tattered ends, it all came rushing back to him along with the heavy darkness of despair and depression. It must’ve leaked into the force around him as he heard the door glide open and footsteps near the bed.

“Knight Skywalker?” The voice of Master Che was hesitant and timid, so much different than her usual calm and almost demanding tone. Her hand was gentle as it wiped away a tear rolling down his face. “Anakin?”

He didn’t answer, didn’t move, didn’t even feel like he was really in his body, trying to convince himself that this was all a dream. That his mother hadn’t died. That Ahsoka hadn’t left him. That Padme hadn’t left him after being unable to cope with his turmoil after Ahsoka had left him. That Obi-Wan hadn’t given up and left him, severing the connection that had been his only constant lifeline of sanity for fifteen years. He tried to tell himself that it was just a dream, one of the many nightmares that had plagued him over the years. Tried to tell himself it wasn’t real because Obi-Wan would never leave him, never sever their bond that he held so dear.

Thoughts turning dark, rage started to boil up within him, churning with the grief and darkness to fill every part of him. Obi-Wan would never sever their bond willingly. He’d lied about it and fought the Council about it until he’d been red in the face, citing how efficient it made him and Anakin as a team, how much better Jedi they were because of it. One thought went on repeat, ‘The Council made him do it.’ That was it, Obi-Wan had been forced because Obi-Wan was the one person who would always be there, be on his side.

Anakin wouldn’t let that happen, wouldn’t let them take Obi-Wan away from him. The dark side began pooling within him, a giant krayt dragon unfurling its wings within him and roaring its anger and pain. All his doubts, his pain, his fears fed into the beast’s unrelenting hunger leaving only the rage behind.

When he finally looked at Healer Che, he saw her sympathy and pity for him and it only served to make him angrier. “Don’t look at me like that! You helped them take him away from me! They made him do it! You let them do it!”

“Knight Skywalker, please calm yourself. The loss of a bond, especially one as deep rooted as yours, is traumatic. You’re experience these delusions from the trauma while your mind is trying to cope.” She was calm, projecting calm and quiet at him through the force with the suggestion of sleep.

Struggling against the suggestion, distracted by his fury of her daring to try, he didn’t notice the hypospray until it had already been depressed against his neck. Still, he fought, using his anger to try and burn the drug from his system before it could take ahold of him. A second depression of the hypospray broke the stalemate and he quickly felt the darkness pulling him under, encouraged by another force suggestion to sleep.

Not for the first time, Obi-Wan wondered if they had made a mistake. He’d agreed to the Council’s decision to sever their bond, but now he wondered if it had been the right thing to do. After Ahsoka, after the Hardeen incident, after so much in his short life, had it really been fair to put Anakin through this too?

They were in a war, leading battalions to battle, losing men daily, things the Jedi weren’t really equipped to mentally handle. Was it really any wonder that Anakin had formed such an attachment to him? Several times it had saved their lives, had saved his own life. The Code, the traditions, they weren’t meant for times like these.

Still, he’d agreed. Now he regretted it., He wished he’d fought against it. Wished he had refused. Wished he’d taken Anakin and run. Anything other than what had happened.

He’d known Anakin wouldn’t take it well. Intimately knew the insecurities he faced. The abandonment issues that had only gotten worse with time. He knew how much Anakin struggled with balance, knew Anakin relied on him to keep him in check.

Yet, here they were. A week that felt like a lifetime. Obi-Wan still fighting off the remainder of the migraine caused by the psychic backlash even after being heavily shielded. Anakin being kept unconscious in isolation while the Council debated on his fate after his Fall.

It was his fault, he’d failed Anakin. He’d known, he knew what Anakin felt for him. Knew just how deep it ran. Had known he felt the same way even if he’d never said the words aloud. He could’ve prevented Anakin falling if he had just said them.

That’s why he’d agreed. He’d been a coward to his own feelings, refused to acknowledge them. Tried and failed to release them into the Force.

For the first time since Qui-Gon died, he didn’t try to release it all to the Force. He deserved every bit of guilt he felt. It was his fault. His regret. His mistake.

[zersium]

Chapters: ½ Fandom: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Obi-Wan Kenobi/Anakin Skywalker Characters: Anakin Skywalker, Obi-Wan Kenobi, Ahsoka Tano Additional Tags: Episode: s04e15 Deception, Deception AU, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, This Is Why We Can’t Have Nice Things, So much angst, Hurt/Comfort, Poor Anakin, ahsoka doesn’t deserve any of this, obi-wan didn’t think things through Series: Part 2 of obikin week 2017 Summary:

Anakin is not angry; Obi-Wan is dead, and he feels hollow. Meanwhile, Obi-Wan realizes his mistakes, and Ahsoka is left to clean up the mess.

Alternatively: when Obi-Wan, Yoda, and Mace make a plan without Anakin, he doesn’t react like they expected him to.

@obikinweek

[ao3feed-obikin]

Secrets, Secrets are no Fun

read it on the AO3 at http://ift.tt/2u8EUEl

by Masha4Lyfe

Obi-Wan has always been a emotionally stunted, but it only worsens with Anakin Skywalker as his Padwan.

Words: 2600, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Categories: M/M

Characters: Obi-Wan Kenobi, Anakin Skywalker, Yoda (Star Wars), Mace Windu

Relationships: Obi-Wan Kenobi/Anakin Skywalker

Additional Tags: Friends to Lovers, Friendship, these boys are too much, Growing Up, Love Confessions, obikinweek17, obikin

read it on the AO3 at http://ift.tt/2u8EUEl

[glimmerglanger]

obikin week: day 1

didn’t think i was going to manage this, for reasons, but i suppose tormenting characters helps me feel better, so. this is, actually, more pre-obikin than i originally intended.

Anakin hated it when Obi-Wan was injured enough to require a bacta tank; it gave him too much time to think.

He’d been thinking for days, already, watching Obi-Wan float in the liquid, the wounds on his body slowly, slowly closing, the bruises fading back into his skin, the worst of the injuries turning into white lines of scar tissue.

“Anakin?”

If he looked, he could still see the imprints of boots along Obi-Wan’s ribs, ugly little half-circles that had turned to greenish-yellow.

“Anakin?”

It he looked, he could see where half the fingers on Obi-Wan’s left hand had twisted wrong. His thumb nail was still black. He’d probably lose it.

A hand touched his elbow, startling him. He jerked, looking down into a familiar face. Padme. Her dark eyes were wide with worry. Her mouth pinched tight. She curled her fingers around his arm. “Oh, Anakin,” she said. “This is terrible. I didn’t know it was so bad.”

He looked away from her, shrugging off her touch, too tired, too angry to do this right now. “You shouldn’t be here,” he said, pacing away.

“Of course I should be here,” she said. “He’s my friend, too.”

Anakin swallowed, shutting his eyes for a moment, trying to find some peace, some calm in his thoughts. “Look,” he said, “Senator--”

He heard the sound she made, short and sharp. Hurt. It tangled his tongue before he could say anything else. He never called her that in private. Not so coolly. He heard the ache in her voice when she said, “You haven’t been home in days.”

He shook his head, gesturing helplessly at the tank.

“He would want you to sleep,” she said.

He turned on her, then, the barely banked anger in his chest flaring out. “He would have wanted me to answer his comm,” Anakin said, with a snarl. “He commed me, Padme, when they came for him. And I ignored it, because I was with you. And--” The words beat at the back of his teeth, recriminations and rage twisting through them. “And he didn’t have a chance to contact anyone else. And now look.”

She stared back at him, eyes shining. “I have never told you to ignore your messages,” she said, quiet, hard.

“Not in so many words,” he said, all the anger in his chest hungry for a target, for someone else to funnel towards. Left alone, left with only his thoughts, the guilt kept circling around to him.

“Anakin!” she said, stung, jerking back as though he’d physically struck her. “That’s… you’re not being fair.”

“Is that fair?” he asked, pointing at the tank, at Obi-Wan’s ragdoll body. Out of the corner of Anakin’s eye, he still looked the way he had tt first, his body a canvas for misery.

Padme blinked her shining eyes. She said, “I didn’t cause that.”

“We did,” Anakin said, and the words sat before them, a bomb ticking down, running out of time. “I did, Padme. I should have been there and instead I was…” He was with her, in her bed, living the lie he’d made for a life. “I should have been there.”

She shook her head, covering her mouth with a hand and then fretfully straightening her hair. “Come home. Get some rest. Please. You’re tired and upset.”

Anakin shook his head, backing a step away from her. “No,” he said, swallowing.

She frowned, her arms crossed, tight. “You need to take a break. You can’t just stay here, Anakin.”

He looked back at the tank, away from the upset written all over her expression. “I can’t go,” he said. He couldn’t. Not with Obi-Wan like this, not knowing it was their fault. He couldn’t go back to what he’d been doing, to what had caused this.

Eventually, he heard her leave. He sighed and sank back down into his position in front of the tank, folding his legs and curling over to press his forehead against his knuckles.

[darthsharapova]

Hi, if you're still taking prompts, first date for obikin?:)

I am always taking prompts! I love them, so please tell your friends!! I hope you enjoy this, being Obikin’s first official date!

Obi-Wan paced back and forth in the kitchen, the heel of his boot lightly clicking against the tile as he made the small steps from the stove to the oven. He hummed softly with the classical music that played throughout the apartment, occasionally swaying with the ebbs and flows of the piece. He bent down and peeked into the oven, opening the durasteel hatch only enough to where he could peer in to view his creation. Dex had given him the recipe for Zoochberry Cobbler, one of his most popular menu items, and one that happened to be Anakin’s favorite. Obi-Wan closed his eyes and drew in a breath through his nose, taking in the rich scent from the sugar, berries, and butter mingling with each other. The aroma danced on his senses, and the corner of his mouth lifted into a content smile.

He pushed himself up off his knees and shifted his attention the stew. The Jedi gracefully dipped his pinky into the mix and whisked it to his lips, sucking it in with a pop. He cringed, scrunching his nose at the bitter taste. He summoned a salt shaker with the Force, irresponsible misuse he knew, and sprinkled it into the bubbling concoction. Obi-Wan turned around and leaned against the countertop, his hands bracing himself on the cool surface.

Everything had to be perfect, he thought to himself. He’d gone through such lengths to make sure everything was to his liking. Because if he didn’t like it, Anakin surely wouldn’t. Bail had been more than happy to offer Obi-Wan his recipe for Alderaan Stew. Obi-Wan prided himself on his culinary skills, but tonight was different. This was his first…their first date together. Surely this was the will of the Force, as Obi-Wan had never thought this day would come. He ran a hand through his hair thinking about the events that had led him here. He’d been more than happy to believe his feelings to be unrequited, and it made it so much simpler that the Code forbade attachment and Inter-Jedi relationships. Things had changed, though.

After a mission to Anison had gone horribly wrong, no one had been sure Anakin would make it. Obi-Wan had spent those days a complete and utter wreck. He couldn’t sleep, eat, or concentrate. He refused any and all social interactions and stayed out at Anakin’s side in the medical bay. He’d never felt the Force so weak in the man before, and it frightened him. He sat with him, spoke to him, cried more often than not. It had been when Anakin finally awoke, that Obi-Wan decided to kriff the Code, and he told his former apprentice how he felt. The confession had been met with a soft expression, his blue gaze seemingly drowning him. Anakin had smiled, then, and told him he never thought he’d hear him say it. Obi-Wan had cried, yet again, and tightened his hold on the man’s hand, kissing where their fingers intertwined.

Obi-Wan smiled fondly at the memory, it had turned out to be one of his favorites of the two of them. They’d only been able to make an outing to Dex’s before they were sent out on another assignment. It was for that reason, that Obi-Wan was being anal about everything. Every chair, every candle, every aspect had to be perfect, because Anakin was perfect. Obi-Wan knew what they were embarking upon would be very difficult; deceiving the Council, their friends. He wanted to show Anakin off, make everyone jealous, but he couldn’t, so it was these precious intimate moments they could have that would have to suffice.

Obi-Wan gave the chrono a side glance, taking a calming breath when he realized Anakin would be getting back from sparring with Ashoka any moment now. He hung his “Master Chef” apron up on a hook and chuckled slightly. It’s been a gag gift from Anakin, but Obi-Wan loved it. The fabric had a picture with Master Yoda on it, holding a spatula instead of his light saber. He took one last look at, and he closed his eyes and shook his head affectionately towards the floor. Obi-Wan heard the door swish open, and he headed towards the presence he could feel was Anakin’s.

“Anakin,” the older man smiled. “How was sparring.”

“It was great. Ahsoka’s really coming into her own. She’ll be a fearsome Jedi one day.” He smiled before his face hardened. “Oh.” He added curtly. “I ran into Master Windu on the way here.”

“Oh, Anakin.” He placed his hand gently on the younger man’s arm. “I’m sorry. But hopefully, I can make your day a little be-”

“Do you smell that?” Anakin’s nose lifted, sniffing in the direction of the kitchen.

“Smell what?”

“Something’s burning.”

Obi-Wan’s eyes went wide.

“Force, please no.” He pleaded as he fled towards to kitchen.

“Obi-Wan? Obi-Wan what is it?” Anakin followed him into the kitchen, concern pouring over his features.

He entered the kitchen and living area and looked around, slightly in awe. The table had been adorned with a table cloth and candles. 2 crystal glasses filled with what looked to be Corellian wine. He took notice of the soft music playing in the background. Anakin’s eyes took in the sight, and he slowly turned to face Obi-Wan who was fretting over the ruined stew.

“What is all this?”

“Well,” Obi-Wan huffed, aggressively setting the pot off to the side. “it was supposed to be for our first official date.”

“You did all of this for a date?” Anakin couldn’t keep his emotions in check. Love and affection spilled through their bond, and he walked over and embraced the older man. “Thank you.” He whispered.

“Don’t thank me just yet.” He started. “I do have one more thing to save the night. I made your favorite dessert.”

Anakin’s eyebrows jumped up. “You didn’t. I can’t believe you!” He smiled.

Obi-Wan leaned down and opened the oven, only to find the dessert all too watery. He took a harsh breath in through his nose before he threw the dish into the sink.

“Fuck. Kriff everything.” Obi-Wan shouted. Anakin jolted, surprised by the outburst from the man. He cautiously approached the man, peeping over his shoulder into the sink.

“Obi-Wan, it’s ok. It’s just food.”

Obi-Wan turned around, exasperated.

“No, it isn’t just food. Tonight was supposed to be perfect.” He sighed, shoulders falling.

“After everything we’ve been through, everything we’re about to go through- we deserved this. Something perfect.”

Anakin approached the Jedi, and turned him around by the waist to face him.

“Obi-Wan, look at me.” The man’s gaze remained on the tile. “Please?” Again nothing, and Anakin lifted the man’s chin with his hand.

“I appreciate this lavish gesture, I really do. I love that you put so much thought and effort into this night. But what you and I have, it transcends all of this. You don’t have to win me over with a fancy dinner and mood lighting. You won me over a long time ago. Just by being you. As long as I’m with you, Obi-Wan, I’m happy.”

Obi-Wan smiled shyly. “Even that unfortunate time on Takodana?”

“Yes, even then.” Anakin snickered.

Anakin brushed the pad of his thumb over Obi-Wan’s cheek, and searched his eyes with his own. Finding what he was looking for, he leaned in close to the other man and let their lips touch. Soft pliant lips met slightly chapped ones, but it was still filled with passion and electricity. The rightness of it sang in the Force, and the two men separated smiling, and slightly out of breath.

“Well, let me see if I can whip something up and we can salvage the rest of the evening.” Obi-Wan stepped back, smoothing his robes.

Anakin lightly wrapped his hand around Obi-Wan’s wrist. “I think I might have a slightly more…entertaining suggestion.” Anakin cocked an eyebrow and bit his bottom lip.

“Oh? Well, in that case don’t let me stop you.”

Before Obi-Wan knew it, he was being dragged to his bedroom, giggling helplessly along the way.

[clarespace]

fic: to prove it so

[obi-wan/anakin] pg. 3511 words.

‘Then it was real, my Padawan.’

Anakin shudders. He hasn’t heard Obi-Wan call him that in decades. It is beyond his comprehension that he could be here, held close as if he is still precious to the one he callously threw away to call another as Master. 

‘How?’ asks Anakin, persistent. 

‘You’d have to ask Master Yoda for specifics, but I believe there is this thing called the Force that guides each and every one of us – ’

Anakin laughs for the first time in so long; it hurts and fills him up with a strange mix of joy and despair.

a/n: for the obikin week 2017, which i just realised was happening. two prompts for the price of one - regret and second chance. title taken from light by sleeping at last (give it a listen, it’s utterly obikin). i hope you like this. 

ao3 or 

-

Death feels like taking his first breath in decades.

It’s also dark.

Quiet.

Alone.

Perhaps the Force has finally forsaken him. After all, what is a moment’s goodness compared to nearly a lifetime of evil? But there had been hope for him at the end, when his Masters had come, and Obi-Wan had given him a smile of – of –

Anakin doesn’t know. It’s been forever since he can think of his Master without suffocating in rage and hate, and even longer to remember what he once was like without emotions clouding him. Where is Obi-Wan’s ghost now? Probably in the afterlife he deserves, laughing at his foolish old Padawan.

This nothingness, Anakin deserves. Strange, how even in death, hope still hurts.

Foolish, indeed.

-

Then, footsteps.

Then, the Force.

Then, an achingly familiar presence.

A door opens and light rushes into the dark, and Anakin lifts his head to squint against it.

‘Anakin, what are you doing in there?’

The starburst softens into something gentler, like Obi-Wan’s young, bare face peering curiously down at him.

Anakin gasps. ‘Master, you’re back!’ He flings himself into Obi-Wan’s arms. Anakin senses the sudden stillness in the Force, echoed in Obi-Wan’s body, and a strange fear flows through him. Oh, the old man still hates him, a voice whispers in the back of his mind, full of dark fire and glowing eyes, and Anakin thinks he’ll be swallowed by this ancient dragon –

And then Obi-Wan pulls him into his embrace, sighing into Anakin’s hair. ‘Hello, Anakin. I’m home.’

With a shudder, the dragon crumbles to ash and Anakin grins up at Obi-Wan, surprised and pleased by the words. Nearly two years as Obi-Wan’s Padawan and it still seems as if Obi-Wan doesn’t want him at all.

Anakin wants to keep this closeness and so he holds on, merely pulling back enough that he can look up at his Master’s face. ‘How did the mission go, Master?’ he asks, voice high and sweet. The sound of it seems funny to him, all of a sudden, just like the way Obi-Wan looks so young.

‘It went very well, Anakin. Should I expect the same for your studies while I was away?’

‘Of course! I was a model Padawan. I think Master Windu is in shock.’

Obi-Wan places a hand on top of his head. It doesn’t feel heavy but Anakin can feel it all the way down to his toes. ‘Hm, that only worries me, Padawan.’

Anakin is smiling so hard that it hurts. His Master has never allowed such contact before he left for his mission in the Outer Rim nor been so openly kind, but Anakin isn’t going to complain.

‘Don’t worry, Master,’ he says proudly, thumping his chest, ‘I really was good. I passed all my exams and defeated everyone in saber training.’

‘Is that so?’

‘Yes! Master Drallig said I was one of the most talented trainees he’d ever seen!’

Such boasts would usually earn him a disappointed look and a lecture on humility (even though, really, Anakin is better than his peers) but Obi-Wan merely gives a soft chuckle, hugs him once more, and then gently releases him. Anakin is delighted and confused and wants to cling some more but minds himself. His Master is acting strangely. He can feel the affection flowing through their training bond. It is so close to attachment that it makes Anakin pause. Obi-Wan has repeatedly told him that attachments are forbidden and now this. Perhaps the mission had gone horribly wrong and his Master is gravely ill.

Anakin grabs Obi-Wan’s hand and tries to sense anything wrong with him using the Force. ‘Master,’ he says slowly, ‘are you sure you’re alright?’ He waves a hand and frowns. ‘You’re being weird.’

Obi-Wan smiles down at him and squeezes his hand. ‘I’m fine, Anakin. I’m just glad to see you.’

He’s not stupid enough to believe that Obi-Wan never lies but the fond look on his face seems real enough (oh, Anakin wants it to be real). His fears shrink even more in the back of his mind.

‘Alright, Master, but I think a trip to the Healers’ Room should be our first stop today.’

‘What’s the second?’

‘To look for my Kyber crystal?’

This time, Obi-Wan laughs. It’s a rare sound and Anakin bounces on his toes in glee.

‘I don’t mind seeing a Healer, my dear one, but it will be some time yet before you’re ready for the Gathering.’

Anakin grins winsomely. ‘I had to try, Master.’

‘Do or do not, there is no try,’ quotes Obi-Wan in a thoughtful, croaky voice.

Anakin laughs and the Force thrums with his happiness.

-

Anakin could not remember a more perfect day than this.

His Master briefly meets with the Council and afterwards informs him that they will spend the day together to catch up on Anakin’s progress. It involves a short detour with the Healers who say there is nothing wrong with Obi-Wan (and Anakin secretly breathes a sigh of relief because what if everything that has happened so far is the result of a brain injury?) and they have lunch in the gardens where Anakin regales Obi-Wan with his impressive achievements in the past week. His Master is not a silent listener throughout and comments on this (Anakin’s supposedly superb footwork) and that (Anakin’s sudden meditation prowess) with his familiar dry wit and sarcasm but lacks the usual sternness that prickles at Anakin’s pride.

They laugh and talk the day away. Other Masters and younglings look at them with fond exasperation and curiosity (Master Windu passes by five times with an eyebrow pitched higher and higher) but Obi-Wan only crooks a small smile at all of them.

They go for a swim in one of the many pools, something that rarely happens because Anakin doesn’t trust anyone else besides his Master to keep him safe should he stray from the shallow parts. He dearly loves to swim but a childhood in a desert planet had instilled in him the inability to be fully comfortable wading in water despite the skills he’d painstakingly learned to try and overcome it. Anakin is sure that it’s Obi-Wan’s doing when he gets splashed in the face a few times but Obi-Wan only tells him it’s the nearby waterfall, Anakin, really, would your respectable Master ever do such a thing? and try as he might, Anakin can’t prove otherwise.

Once they are dry and warm, Obi-Wan lures him into meditation with gentle smiles and even gentler words and, for once, Anakin doesn’t mind sitting still and letting his breathing out of his body so he can bring the Force in. It doesn’t rush through him like it usually does, a raging river, but flows as smoothly and peacefully as it does for his Master. Anakin can feel the presence of many younglings around them and he wishes they are all happy and be chosen by Masters as good as his.

The smile Obi-Wan has for him once Anakin wakes from his trance is as beautiful as the Force singing in his heart.

-

All perfect days must come to an end and Anakin fervently prays it will come back tomorrow as he readies himself for bed. He can hear Obi-Wan in the next room doing the same; quiet footfalls and murmurs that he hadn’t known he’d missed until the silence is suddenly not quite as lonely anymore. Anakin tugs the blanket up to his chin and falls asleep to the memory of this day.

But peace doesn’t follow him there. He sees fire behind his closed eyes, and blood, and tears, and love sundered, and his mother’s gravestone, and hears screams of children that sound just like his. Anakin tries to wake but he cannot. He suffocates in a dark mask, feels pain beyond his imaginings. No, he roars, thrashing from one nightmare to another, no, no, no, I am – I did not – Mother – Padmé – Master – Master – Obi-Wan!

‘Anakin,’ a voice sings to him, soft and worn, ‘dear one. Quiet, now. Hush.’

A hand, steady and firm, wipes across his brow and the tears streaming his cheeks.

‘Master?’ calls Anakin, childlike and lost. He is afraid to open his eyes.

‘Yes, I’m here.’ Arms, warm and safe, close around him. ‘I’m here, Anakin.’

Anakin burrows into the embrace, crying, it seems, a thousand tears for a thousand different regrets, and Obi-Wan holds him through them all.

If he is quiet and small enough, maybe he won’t have to open his eyes. He can stay here where it’s good and smells like his Master.

Obi-Wan gently tugs on a lock of hair. ‘Anakin,’ he says, ‘don’t you think it’s time to wake up?’ and shatters that hope.

Anakin sighs and turns around, doing his best not to jostle the arms encircling him, and looks at Obi-Wan’s face. He strokes the beard prickling Obi-Wan’s jaw, then the wrinkles around his eyes and mouth. Still younger than the last time Anakin saw him, this is the Master that haunted Anakin until his last dying moment in Luke’s arms. Anakin can still breathe easily, so he isn’t Lord Vader, but he can feel the darkness slithering away in the depths of his heart. However, there is light in him as well and whoever said that achieving Balance is a piece of cake should be shot.

Obi-Wan hums as he traces the scar on Anakin’s face. ‘There you are, Anakin.’

‘This isn’t the afterlife, is it?’ asks Anakin, tone flat. He looks around them, at the Temple room he’d once forgot. There are droid parts and tools on every available surface, and Anakin kicks a small wrench off the bed.

Obi-Wan huffs a laugh and waves a hand above their heads. ‘No, dear one.’

‘Then what is this?’

‘You could call it a reprieve.’

‘Master, I don’t understand.’

‘It’s the way of the Force, young one.’

‘I’m not young anymore.’

‘I suppose not, with eyes like these.’

Anakin’s hand flies up to press against his eyes. ‘Are they - ?’

‘A perfect shade of blue? Yes, you vain creature.’

‘How?’

‘And this one,’ says Obi-Wan, touching the skin below Anakin’s other eye, ‘belongs to the Sith.’

Anakin ducks his head, shame making his face hot. ‘How can you stand me?’

‘With practice, Anakin.’

‘This isn’t the time for your glib comments!’ Anakin snaps, frustrated.

Obi-Wan runs a soothing hand through his hair. Hair! Anakin reaches up to twine his fingers through them. He breathes deeply and holds it in his lungs. In between the long curls falling over his face, Anakin can see his flesh hand, and he brings his other hand up, black and glowing.  Anakin stretches inside the circle of Obi-Wan’s arms, revelling in the pop of his spine and the shift of muscles. He knows this body, intimately. It is the body of Anakin Skywalker, walking on tightrope, doomed to fall.

Anakin drops his head on Obi-Wan’s chest. ‘Was it all a dream?’

‘You have to be more specific, my dear.’

‘I remember dying. I remember my son.’ He sighs wistfully, wishing he’d been able to feel Luke this way. ‘But then I woke up here, in the Temple.’ Anakin’s brow furrows. ‘I was eleven years old again, Master.’

‘It could have been a dream,’ says Obi-Wan, ‘but who says it couldn’t have been real as well?’ He curls his fingers under Anakin’s chin, tipping it up until their eyes meet. Obi-Wan doesn’t flinch but softens, and Anakin’s heart beats greedily for more.

Smiling, Anakin hesitantly places his hands on Obi-Wan’s chest, expecting to be shoved away, but Obi-Wan merely sighs and snuggles closer. ‘I didn’t miss this vagueness of yours, Master.’ Oh, he did. ‘It felt real to me.’

‘Then it was real, my Padawan.’

Anakin shudders. He hasn’t heard Obi-Wan call him that in decades. It is beyond his comprehension that he could be here, held close as if he is still precious to the one he callously threw away to call another as Master.

‘How?’ asks Anakin, persistent.

‘You’d have to ask Master Yoda for specifics, but I believe there is this thing called the Force that guides each and every one of us – ’

Anakin laughs for the first time in so long; it hurts and fills him up with a strange mix of joy and despair. He wheezes, unable to contain it, and gently slaps Obi-Wan on the arm. ‘Obi-Wan, please be serious.’

‘When have you ever been serious, Anakin?’ They both know the answer to that. Still, Obi-Wan’s eyes twinkle down at him, so uncommon in the old days during the war, and even before that, when Obi-Wan maintained his distance as he trained Anakin. ‘Do you truly not know the answer?’

Anakin lets his fingers drift into the open collars of Obi-Wan’s robes, skittishly running them along the triangle of skin exposed. He does know. ��I was – afraid,’ he says haltingly, voice soft. ‘I knew death would not be kind to someone like me. I’m still a coward. I ran away to a place I was the closest to being happy.’

‘As my Padawan,’ says Obi-Wan, just as quiet. ‘Why not to your mother, Anakin? Or Padmé?’

Pain stabs at him at their names. He grabs hold of Obi-Wan’s shoulder and looks into his eyes, mournful. ‘I was never happy on Tatooine. It was there where I first learned how a life could ever be so of little value, and I’m ashamed to admit that I can’t remember my mother as well as I’d like. There were soft touches and lullabies at night, soothing words when I was hurt, but I’ve grown so far away from those days that my memory fails. As for Padmé – ’ Anakin swallows roughly, tears falling from his eyes. ‘She was peace and now my penitence. The one I loved and wronged so cruelly. I ended her beauty and goodness. I was never truly happy with her because I always wanted more, more, more. Everything. I was blinded by greed.’

‘And you,’ he whispers, clutching tight, ‘we were brothers in arms during the war. We forged a bond that refused to be denied. From my brightest memory to my darkest moment, you were there, Obi-Wan, the one constant in a damned world.’

‘I saw how you looked at the younglings,’ says Obi-Wan, tracing Anakin’s angry brows with his thumb. The touch burns.

Anakin moans. ‘I regret them the most!’

‘In this, we are the same,’ confesses Obi-Wan, his own tears slipping free. He looks heartbroken and Anakin weeps into his chest. ‘I could not protect them. I could not protect you.’

‘I don’t deserve protection. I don’t deserve this. Master!’ Anakin knows he does not but he still seeks comfort as he shakes apart, such grief and pain that it threatens to undo him until even the Force will not be able to put him back together.

Soft lips touch the top of his head. ‘Oh, Anakin. Let it out, let it out. Give it back to the Force.’

Anakin doesn’t know if he can anymore. He’s always grabbed at his emotions and kept them deep within himself even as they slowly turned to poison.

‘Imagine my surprise when I found you here, of all places,’ Obi-Wan tells him, his gentle laughter ruffling the curls sticking to Anakin’s wet cheeks. His voice is soothing, calm. ‘You were once again the boy I raised, so precious to me that I could barely think of you during my long years of exile. To remember you as you were would only remind me of my failures as your Master, of lost smiles and our broken bond. Hush, now, don’t argue. Didn’t you wonder why I let you have this day, Anakin? I saw how hungry you were for affection, for a kind word from me. I admit there was a time when I’d been jealous of you, because my own Master favoured you over me despite how much effort I put in to being the perfect Padawan.’

Anakin quietens, his sobs turning into hiccups and raspy breaths. He listens.

‘And today was for me, as well. When they gave you to me, I decided I would become the Master I thought you needed: distant, impeccable, thoughtful but cold. It was my mistake, because even as we eventually grew closer, I still denied to myself the attachment we forged. In turn, I became someone who you felt you couldn’t trust and therefore turned to others for guidance.’

‘Obi-Wan, no, it was all my fault – ’

Humour seeps back into Obi-Wan’s eyes. ‘Come, now, Anakin, I know you enjoy being dramatic and hoarding the limelight but so many of us were at fault.’

Anakin huffs. He wipes at his face and settles back onto the bed, still held loosely in Obi-Wan’s arms. ‘Is this supposed to bring me peace, Master?’

‘Is it working?’

‘No.’

‘Then it’s not meant to.’

‘Ugh, I hate you sometimes.’

Obi-Wan smiles sadly at him. ‘And I’ve always loved you, even after you turned to the Dark Side. Even after you took innocent lives. In my darkest hours, I sometimes wondered why I could not let go of you, Anakin Skywalker. Who is the real monster: the man who murders or the one who still loves him despite it all?’

Heart in his throat, he reaches out with his flesh hand and touches Obi-Wan’s cheek, watching as his fair eyelashes fluttered shut. ‘Even when my hate for you burned in my blood and I swore to the stars I’d kill you, I knew deep inside that I could not fathom a world without you. When you finally died, the last piece of me died as well. I think I was always calling out for you, Obi-Wan, but I never thought you’d hear me.’

They fall silent, letting their emotions flow, feeling each other through the Force and with their hands.

‘You keep touching me,’ says Anakin.

The fingers go on tracing circles on his skin. ‘Does it bother you?’

Anakin bites his lip. ‘No, but – I killed you. I killed all of you.’

‘Not all,’ says Obi-Wan. ‘Luke and Leia are spared but yes, you did kill a fair few people.’

‘So why touch me at all? How can you stand to be even near me?’ cries Anakin, fists tugging the robes of his Master.

Obi-Wan looks him in the eye, face serene. ‘Because it’s been a long, long, long time since I’ve touched anybody.’ He pauses, then curls a hand over Anakin’s cheek. ‘And it’s you, Anakin.’

Anakin breathes through the joy blossoming within him, cautious and achingly sweet and wobbling on its newborn legs. ‘I wanted this from you,’ he confesses, reaching up to hold Obi-Wan’s face in his hands. There are echoes of old desperation in his voice. ‘I yearned for this, but I was afraid you would reject me. So, so afraid.’

‘I would have,’ says Obi-Wan, honest and sad.

Torment lances through Anakin’s heart. ‘I know.’

‘You were so young, Anakin, and you were my charge. We were both Jedi and the Code was clear.’ Obi-Wan gathers him closer and presses their cheeks together. Anakin closes his eyes, trembling. ‘But if things had been different, if we had just met, Obi-Wan Kenobi and Anakin Skywalker, then - ’

Anakin whispers, ‘Can we still have this in the afterlife? Can I still have this, Obi-Wan?’ You? he does not dare say out loud.

‘Our fates are intertwined,’ Obi-Wan tells him, ‘because I’m here; I answered your call when you were dying. I’ve never felt the Force mourn and rejoice at the same time. It was calling you home.’

Sighing, Anakin tucks his face into the curve of Obi-Wan’s neck. ‘And you will lead me there, my own Force ghost.’

‘Yes. Believe me, I was surprised to find myself as one.’

‘I can’t even imagine it, peace for a monster like me.’

‘You weren’t, once. Not all of you. And, perhaps, one day you will be called upon when there is need of your aid, a chance to atone for your crimes.’

Anakin smiles, crooked. ‘Will it be selfish of me if I run away when it happens?’

‘Very selfish, yes,’ laughs Obi-Wan, ‘but I’ll drag you by the ear,’ and nips him lightly on the said ear.

Anakin lets out a yawn, suddenly more tired than he’s ever been.

Obi-Wan smiles tenderly down at him, then leans close to press their lips in the briefest, sweetest kiss. ‘Shall we rest?’ he asks.

Anakin stares into Obi-Wan’s eyes and feels one last burst of fear that he will be alone again when he next wakes up. Tender understanding glows in Obi-Wan’s eyes as he touches Anakin’s cheek with his fingertips and draws the anxiety out of him. Anakin doesn’t deserve this and it only makes him more aware of how lucky he is. There is only peace between them now.

‘Yes, Master.’

The Force opens around them and Anakin is swept away, his past released, moment by moment, into the ether until he becomes stardust, they are stardust, and everything is quiet.

[selcier]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types, Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Obi-Wan Kenobi/Anakin Skywalker Characters: Anakin Skywalker, Obi-Wan Kenobi Additional Tags: obikinweek17, Soft core smut, look I wrote something happy!, Day 6: Wait for Me, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rimming, Hand Jobs Summary:

Anakin is tired enough for only a taste.

@obikinweek

[glare-gryphon]

Obi-Wan and the Handmaiden chat some more, and the road ahead of our hero is revealed. 

Read it on Ao3, or below the cut!

When Obi-Wan wakes, the Naboo starkiff is nowhere to be seen. In fact, when Obi-Wan wakes, there is nothing to be seen. No stars, no sky, no sands. Just four stone walls, a low roof, and a solid durasteel door on the far side of whatever room he’s found himself in. The space is lit faintly by a set of small windows on the rear wall, but they’re placed too high for Obi-Wan to get a look out of them even if he’d wanted to.

His head aches tremendously, and blood has dried in the back of his hair when he prods at the source of his pain. The Raider had hit him quite hard; he’s likely got at least a mild concussion, if not anything more severe. That does appear to be his only injury, however, when he takes a brief moment to look himself over. Obviously their intention had been to capture and not kill, or the padawan would be long dead. Which begs the question: what did they need him alive for?

Seeking the answer to his questions, Obi-Wan attempts to reach out with the Force, knowing that this will aid him in centering himself and provide more information than whatever small view the windows may have been able to show him. When he reaches out, however, there is nothing to grasp. The Force doesn’t just slips through his fingers—he can not touch it at all. It feels as though someone has built up a wall around his mind, preventing him from connecting with the flow of the Force.

Obi-Wan knows what this is, having experienced the sensation before. His hands fly up to his throat, and his fingers dance along the slim band they find there. A Force suppressor; somehow he’d missed it when he’d given himself a once-over earlier. Then again, he was looking for physical injury, and not the psychic. This one appears to be either very cheap or very old, judging by the battered, worn feel to the band. Even so, it is effective in keeping Obi-Wan from touching the Force.

“They put it on you when we got here,” a voice says, and the padawan prides himself on not jumping this time. This time, he recognizes the speaker even before he turns around.

The handmaiden from the cargo hold is seated in one of the rear corners on the dusty floor. She has her knees curled up to her chest, her arms wrapped around them. The robes she’d been wearing the night before are battered now, and she’s sporting a blackened eye along with a split lip. Obi-Wan almost feels lucky he was unconscious; he would have put up a fight otherwise, and likely ended up in the same position as her.

“And where is here?” He asks, tugging halfheartedly at the collar. The lock, expectedly, hold firms.

The handmaiden shrugs. “The Raiders—they rounded everyone up and brought us to some… palace… in the desert. We rode for most of the day, but I do not know which way this planet’s suns move, so I can’t tell you what direction we went in.”

“They took everyone?” Obi-Wan asks, and at the handmaiden’s confirming nod, drops to the sand with a curse. “That means they have the Queen.”

“Not the true Queen,” the handmaiden says, almost offhandedly, and Obi-Wan narrows his eyes in suspicion.

“What do you mean by that?”

“The girl in the Queen’s clothing was just another decoy,” she confesses. “The real Queen Amidala went with your Master to the spaceport; we thought it best to hide her amongst her own retinue, with how quickly things were escalating with the Trade Federation. They still hadn’t returned when the Raiders took us.”

Obi-Wan scrubs a tired hand over his face as he processes this new information. It makes a certain amount of sense to hide the Queen among her not-quite twins, the addition of the decoy’s bold clothing providing adequate distraction from the unassuming handmaidens that hover around her. “So there’s still a chance to save your people,” he sighs, mostly to himself. It’s a small weight off his chest to know that his Master is safe from whatever hardships Obi-Wan faces in the future. “You said they took everyone; where are the others? Were they brought here with us?”

The handmaiden nods. “We were all here. The guards have been coming and taking us, however, a few at a time. I’m not sure where to, but we’re the last ones left. I have a feeling they’ll come for us, too.”

As if her words have summoned their captors, the click of a lock opening suddenly echoes through the small cell. Obi-Wan attempts to jump to his feet, to meet their captors head-on, but the world spins dangerously around him at the sudden movement. His concussion is definitely more severe than he thought, and without the Force to speed his healing, he will be all but helpless until his body mends the wound on its own. There’s no way he can defend himself like this, let alone the sole handmaiden left under his questionable protection.

The door steps open, revealing a pair of pig-like aliens and a tall, boney Twi’lek male. The two guards, Gammorians something in Obi-Wan mind supplies, are covered from head to toe in heavy armor and thick furs—strange attire for desert-dwellers—and wield large axes that would be much less threatening if Obi-Wan had access to his lightsaber or the Force. The Twi’lek is an ugly thing, with sunken, pale orange skin and rotting teeth. One of his lekku is wrapped around his neck like a particularly fleshy scarf while the other hangs down limply along the line of his back.

He leers at Obi-Wan as he approaches, taking in the downed padawan with an appreciative eye. The guards follow him, shifting their weapons to one hand and reaching for Kenobi when he tries to scramble away. Each grabs one arm, dragging him up to his knees and holding him there despite his protests and ineffectual struggles. They really are quite strong.

Taking his jaw in a tight grip, the Twi’lek forces Obi-Wan’s face into the light, turning it this way and that as his eyes trace over his face, the line of his jaw. He squeezes at the muscles in Obi-Wan’s arms, pulls up his tunic to get a look at his torso. Inspecting him the way one might expect produce at the market, or livestock at auction. Obi-Wan doesn’t know what the Twi’lek is looking for—what list he’s comparing the padawan to—but there’s something like satisfaction in the curl of his lip. It sends a chill down the boy’s spine.

Obi-Wan is familiar with a great many languages spoken within the Core, it is a requirement of his Jedi training, but he does not recognize the words that fall from the Twi’lek’s lips when he poses a question to the Gammorians. The syllables are harsh and grating, spoken rapidly, with only the word Jedi distinguishable along them. The guards respond in a snorting, squealing tongue that is also foreign to the padawan, but doesn’t seem to hinder the Twi’lek.

The back and forth continues for some time, and Obi-Wan has been involved in enough negotiations to recognize bartering when he sees it, even with the language barrier. For a moment he wonders what they’re bartering over, before the Twi’lek nods absently in his direction as he speaks. It occurs to him then, with a suddenness that freezes his heart in his chest and makes him feel far more stupid than he actually is, that they are bartering over him.

While slavery is technically illegal in the Republic, Obi-Wan is not foolish enough to believe that the business of dealing in human lives ceased the moment the bill was passed. He’s been to planets where the trade still flourished—where the people lived in chains. In the Outer Rim, especially on Hutt-controlled planets like this one, it is merely considered the way of life.

It had never once crossed his mind that one day, he might find himself in the same situation as those people he once went to aid.

The three must come to some kind of arrangement, because their conversation has finally ceased and the guards begin to pull Obi-Wan towards the door. He struggles against their hold, but it’s a fruitless effort. Behind him, the last handmaiden makes a distressed noise, drawing his attention away from fighting his inevitable future. She’s clearly terrified to be left alone, wide-eyed and shaking, and he searches desperately for something, anything to say that might offer some small comfort.

“Master Jinn will find us,” he shouts as he’s dragged from the cell. “Be strong! Master Jinn will find us!”

It’s not much, but in this moment, wounded and unarmed and cut off from the Force, it is all that he can offer.

[victuurayyy]

Hey look I did a thing!

This is my work for Day 1 of Obikin Week 2017!

The prompt was Mistake/Regret.

Summary:

Obi-Wan thought Anakin would get over his anger about the Rako Hardeen incident sooner rather than later. As it turns out, his assumptions were very wrong and nothing will ever be the same between them again.