Warning: The following story contains semi-explicit m/m
contents. Please press 'delete' if you are a) below 18 and b)
easily offended by homosexuality.
Disclaimer: all hail the mighty LucasWorld
Author: Ki
Category: POV, angst, AU, character death
Rating: NC-17
Summary: DarkSith!Obi-Wan speaks. References to the JA (Jedi
Apprentices) books. I have to warn you: not many people will
love this story.
Dedicated to Cleo who is always there even I rant and rave
about the daily injustices of life.
The moon.
It rises in the sky like a huge white disc, illuminating the
heavens. It glows, hurting your eyes.
There are many legends surrounding the moon. Sorceresses are
known to become more powerful when the moon is at its fullest.
Another legend speaks about the court lady who lives alone on
the moon with only a white rodent for companion. A variation of
the story has her rebelling against her husband; she takes the
pill of immortality offered by the ancient gods and flies off
to the moon in tears and shame.
I gaze at the moon, cursing its brightness. With a soft growl,
I merge back into the room, pulling up my hood. There is the
faint strand of harp music drifting from the main dining hall.
Now I remember: I am supposed to accompany my Master on a
diplomatic trip. I growl once more, feeling the dark tendrils
of frustration curl around me like black feelers. I welcome
their touch and for a brief moment, I savor the Darkness,
tasting its bitter sweetness.
The Jedi robe feels cumbersome, rough. Its sandy texture is
supposed to teach discipline and hardiness. It is a hindrance,
an obstacle.
It is also essential for my masquerade.
I smile to myself, heading for the dining hall where I can hear
the laughter and off-key singing. Good, they are drunk. I slip
easily into the role tailored and planned for me: I become
Obi-Wan Kenobi, the obedient padawan apprentice of Jedi Master
Qui-Gon Jinn. I steel myself and enter into the hall. I am
instantly greeted with a myriad of aromas and fragrances.
Rancid perfume. Armpit odor. Vomit. Crushed lilies. Roast meat.
"Obi-Wan."
Qui-Gon Jinn. A tall, proud man with long grey hair. My Master.
I bow deeply, the normal response of a good padawan learner in
front of his teacher.
"Master," I say quietly and I laugh to myself. Fool.
Ineffectual old fool.
For the next hour, I sit silently next to Qui-Gon and say
nothing. We are served platters of meat and vegetables. Goblets
are quickly filled with red wine and I sip mine politely, even
though voices in me cry out to be satisfied. Blood, blood,
blood, they chant. I will soon relish my victory and now I will
bid my time. My eyes pick out the Daivan delegation, jotting on
my observations of these equine aliens: long noses, short ears
and nervous depositions. Good.
The dinner is soon over and I follow Qui-Gon back to our
appointed room. I observe Qui-Gon closely, like a hunting hawk
before it pounces on a weak rat. He strips off his dark Jedi
robes, rubbing his aching shoulders. He is getting old and he
feels his age today. His hair glistens under the light, a
cascade of grey and dark brown. He hunches slightly as he
settles onto a chair, sighing softly. I glide over and massage
his shoulders, kneading the taut muscles and murmuring words of
comfort to him.
I can feel him relaxing under my fingers and I begin to massage
his back, knowing that his guards are gradually collapsing
under my hands. He trusts me and I know it. I lean forward,
brushing the back of his neck with my lips while my right hand
inches forward to caress his chest. I hear him groan and I
quietly remove his pants so that I can kneel in front of him. I
look at his sea-blue eyes, seeing the trust in them. Trust. For
a man who is fifty, he has a lot to learn about blind trust.
He is plainly aroused and I take advantage of it, teasing him
until he cries out for me to stop. I only shake my head,
stroking his hot organ until it swells between my fingers,
pulsating and slick with moist cum. But he climaxes quickly,
like the old man he is and he slumps back into his chair,
breathing heavily.
"Obi-Wan, you are beautiful," he says to me as we head for the
bedroom. His hand is on my shoulder and I know that he wants
more tonight.
The moon is already low in the sky when I slip out from the
room, clad in black. I am about to carry out my task sent to me
by my real Master. I prowl along the corridors, gathering the
Force around like a shroud, shielding me from any prying eyes.
The darkness whispers and I revel, grinning. I love the night
with its many opportunities. Possibilities. The thrill of
success flows deliciously in my veins. I will succeed.
I will succeed in everything because I am trained to break down
barriers, tear down mental guards. I am called Sinn. You are a
beautiful child, the voice of my Master told me once when I was
only a child, left alone and weeping on Bandomeer. I will train
you and make you powerful. I accepted.
The Daivan leader sleeps peacefully on his elongated bed. I can
see his nostrils flaring as he breathes. I send a tiny scythe
of the Force, sharpened and lethal, into his body, slicing the
vital links that join his heart to the rest of his biological
systems. He begins to gasp, tossing and turning as the pain
rips him apart.
I quickly return to the bedroom, shed my clothes and position
myself beside Qui-Gon who still sleeps, unaware of the death
happening nearby. I can taste the death throes in my mind,
licking my lips.
Qui-Gon turns in his slumber and drapes an arm around me, his
breath tickling my back. I close my eyes and sleep. There will
be more activities tomorrow. I need to rejuvenate myself,
regain back my strength and prepare for a long day.
Indeed, the Daivan delegation is in a state of panic and
despair when we wake up in the morning. Qui-Gon frowns, feeling
the rifts in the Force. I curb a chuckle and I pretend to help
the distraught Daivan while I cast covert glances at Qui-Gon
who walks around, making urgent enquiries and talking softly to
the officers in charge of the assassination. I can smell the
fear in the air, a perversely comforting fragrance. It is a
good feeling. Fear. Anger. Despair.
I return back to the room later in the day, pulling off the
robes and tossing them onto the floor. I am getting tired of
this charade. Patience, the voice in my head whispers.
Patience, my apprentice. I catch my reflection in the
full-length mirror and I step forward, looking closely at the
young sandy-haired man, clad in an off-white tunic. I narrow my
eyes and the young man does the same action. Blue-green eyes,
the color of calm seas. I flex my arms, seeing the sinews
ripple. I have not used my hands in real combat and I long to
break vulnerable bones, hear the reassuring crack of shattered
skulls. Feel fresh blood flowing down my arms in warm rivulets.
I pull the tunic off and soon I am naked. I stare at the
reflection, seeing a healthy body. A young man, honed by the
Jedi discipline. His body trim and taut. No hint of fat. It is
a lean lithe body, agile and fast enough for fighting. I touch
the padawan braid curling down my right side, rubbing it
between my fingers.
"Obi-Wan."
I snarl and turn around, my reflexes switched to attack mode,
seeing only Qui-Gon who stands back in alarm.
"I am sorry, Obi-Wan. Have I startled you?"
I soften my expression and shake my head. "No, master."
Instead, I walk towards him, still nude, and I wrap myself
around him, kissing his beard, licking the base of his throat.
He melts like pudding in my hands and we have sex, right there
in the middle of the room. I ease myself down his erection,
using all the seduction techniques taught to me. I urge him on,
deeply aware that he is so close to falling in love with me.
Foolish Jedi. Love. When I first made love to him, he was so
shocked, almost repulsed by the entire idea. Damn chastity and
the Jedi code to remain chaste. I can't possibly bear the idea
of men and women who walk around with their brains between
their legs.
But I broke him easily. Qui-Gon Jinn. The Jedi's best
negotiator and warrior. When I met him a long time ago, he was
already in his prime. Yet ... yet that was after I met my real
Master, a Sith Lord. I had already pledged allegiance to the
Darkness by then. Being a padawan apprentice to the Jedi Master
only serves to further the Sith's cause. I have deceived
countless Jedi, making them believe that I am Qui-Gon's
padawan. I have deceived Qui-Gon too. He is easy to turn. A
word there, a simple touch here. A gesture. A smile. He is an
old man who wishes to be loved. So I use those inner desires
deep inside him.
I gaze down as I feel the old man buckle beneath me and I catch
his eyes. They shine. They glow. Damn it, they are filled with
...
Love.
Qui-Gon loves me.
I squeeze my eyes shut, willing myself to see instead the
beauty of darkness, of moonless nights. Not blue eyes, liquid
with love. Squashing the words of affection as if I am killing
irritating bugs.
He is deceiving himself. He is in love with a dream.
It is night once again and I sit on the ledge, grateful for the
waning of the moon. Qui-Gon has retired early; the exhaustion
has gotten to him. We have spent the entire day, helping the
Daivan in their criminal investigations. Their findings are
inconclusive; I make sure they remain inconclusive. The Jedi
Council has been informed and soon, reinforcements will arrive.
The second part of my plan has to be implemented.
But now, I think about my past. Beautiful boy. Beautiful body.
I am called Sinn because I can worm my way into someone's
psyche and turn it into rot. I am told that I am so beautiful
that people will give up anything to be with me. I am Sin
personified.
But love doesn't work for me. I shudder, barely suppressing my
disgust. Love. When two people declare their undying affection
for each other. It is horrible. The idea of two like-minded
people being together. I don't need obligations in my life.
Qui-Gon.
I strip off the tunic and pad stealthily into the bedroom,
climbing onto the bed. Qui-Gon stir, his long hair covering the
pillow. I smile and begin to caress him. I kiss his torso,
trailing my tongue down to his midriff. I can hear him moan
aloud, his limbs thrashing about. My mouth tease his nipples
and I can see them stiffen, hardening. His organ is beginning
to swell and I rip off his trousers, taking the moist tip into
my mouth. His body arches up in a sharp jerk, signaling his
intense pleasure.
"Obi-Wan, I ...love ...you!"
Love. The word rankles in my soul. Soul. Ha,do I have a soul?
I relish the sight of the Jedi Master losing control. I begin
to rejoice even as he thrusts his hips, pushing his organ deep
into my mouth. He comes, spurting his cum. I can taste it.
Salty. Bitter. His essence within my control.
"Obi-Wan," he says softly, reaching out a hand and stroking my
face. I turn away, feeling myself burned by that hand. "You are
so beautiful ..."
"No. I am not."
Damn you, Jedi. I am shaking because you say that you love me.
Damn you to all the levels of the Sith Hells. Why am I shaking?
Because you look at me with those trusting blue eyes? Damn you,
I am a Sith Lord, not a weak Jedi fool!
With a cruel twist of the Force, I crush his windpipe, breaking
the neck. For a while, the blue eyes stare at me in a fleeting
moment of betrayal. Why? He seemed to say before his eyes roll
up and his eyelids close. Even in death, he looks calm,
collected. The violent death doesnt seem to affect him at all.
I look down at the former Jedi Master, wanting to feel the
powerful thrill of triumph ...but it will not come. I can only
feel defeat like a dull throbbing ache.
I get up from the bed and quietly, I drape the blankets over
the corpse. There is no victory for me. No triumph. No joy. I
back away, knowing that I will have to leave.
In the morning, the servants will discover the body of a Jedi
Master and the disappearance of Obi-Wan Kenobi. No trace will
be found of the padawan apprentice. He is simply gone.
Nobody will know that a shadowy figure has left the building in
the middle of the night, slipping away under the darkened moon.
Nobody will know that this person is walking in the dark side
of the beautiful moon. Nobody knows that Darth Sinn ever
exists.
Noone will.
Not only even the moon that overlooks everything under her
benign influence.
I am Darth Sinn and I walk in the dark side of the moon.
My Master will be proud of me. The Jedi will fall and the decay
has already started with the death of their best Jedi Master.
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