The Darkness of Desire

Darkness of Desire

Disclaimer: This is a non-profit story, and I own none of the characters.
Author – Courtier
Rating – N-17 for situations of sexuality and slash
Summary – A coming of age story chronicling the relationship between Anakin Skywalker and his master, Obi-wan Kenobi; a story of passion, empathy, and confliction.

This story continues shortly after Anakin has recovered from his illness. . . .

Chapter X – An Emotion Unknown

The capital of the Republic, Coruscant, had a very mild climate. Its winters produced merely cool breezes and its summers held nothing but warm sunlight. Yet on this day, it was hot. The sun’s rays beamed onto the glass structures of the city, causing rippling waves of heat to dapple the sky. Needless to say, the Coruscanti citizens, along with a fair few Jedi Knights, chose the indoors to seek their own quarter’s controlled climates.

The Archive Library of the Jedi Temple was the coolest area in the entire building, being located just above the cooling system’s power drive chamber. The room was currently full of padawans young and old, the majority of them fanning themselves with their sleeves and wiping the sweat off of their brows.

In a far corner of the library, Anakin sat amongst a few fellow padawan learners in a circle of lounge chairs, his expression of contentment in stark contrast to their miserable demeanors. The heat bothered him not at all. He’d been raised on a planet with two suns. The warm weather beyond the walls of the temple was but a mild difference to him. He slouched low in his seat, so that his head could rest against its back, and took in the appearance of his friends around him. In the seat nearest to him, eight year old Veera Marx lay with her head resting on the arm of her chair, her legs draped over the opposite arm.

“Anakin. . .” she whispered weakly, as if she were dying. He couldn’t help but crack a tiny smile.

“What is it, Veera?” he asked dryly.

“I need you to go and find me a large case of ice water,” she shifted her head around so that she could look him in the eye. “And then I want you to pour it over my head. If you don’t, I have serious doubts that I will survive this day. . .”

Laughter snorted out of Anakin’s nose. Veera’s dramatic response to the temperature proved ample entertainment.

The Jedi Temple, though an insightful and even spiritual haven, had proven to be rather lonely at times. It seemed to Anakin that camaraderie was not to be found easily amongst the other padawans and apprentices. Unfortunately, he’d been taken into the Jedi’s teachings much, much later in life than most and never received the chance to train with children his own age; thus the lack of friendship. And there was always the aura of suspicion that seemed to surround him perpetually. The speculation he had received from the Jedi Council soon spread to the young ones as well. The Chosen One, they called him. A creation of prophecy. Many of the children felt intimidated by him and would frequently lower their gazes from his own. Isolation seemed to consume the boy, and a constant state of melancholy was within him always.

And then he had met Veera. The eight year old Jedi-to-be was a native of Coruscant and had been taken into the Temple’s teachings at age three. Her vivacity and a thirst for continuous drama never ceased to amuse Anakin and he welcomed her company often. His first contact with her had taken place shortly after he had been released from the medical ward of the Temple and placed into the recovery wing. He’d simply opened his eyes one morning and there she was, staring at him with large brown eyes.

“Master Yoda told everyone you were sick so I made this for you and I hope you like it even though you’re usually kind of quiet and don’t talk much to anybody. I’m Veera.” She’d spoken rapidly and thrust a piece of paper into his arms. Looking bemusedly on the paper, Anakin saw a sketchy (quite sketchy) likeness of himself drawn in a medical bed with tiny x’s on his eyes. To the right of the sketch were the words, ‘Please don’t die yet because I would be sad.’ Anakin had been at a loss for words. He looked at the paper for a long while, and then slowly shifted his eyes to the young girl standing expectantly before him.

“Thank you,” he’d finally said.

From then on, he’d made a new friend. For the following days of his recovery, Veera would bring new padawans with her each day and introduce them to Anakin, until the morbid oppression of isolation suddenly lifted from Anakin’s heart. Perhaps the other children weren’t so bad after all.

He sat with a group of them now in the Archive Library. He closed his eyes briefly and listened to the sounds echoing softly throughout the domed hall. An occasional scuffing of a boot against the marbled floor or a stifled cough could be heard ever so quietly. The air was warm and comfortable to him, conveying his mind to past memories of his youth on Tatooine. Of a sudden, his mother’s voice and eyes was present.

No, no not that. . .

He rapidly transferred his mind elsewhere. Thoughts of his mother only brought pain; the pain of loss that crushed him and caused frustration to surface. He’d been so close to a reunion with her; the reunion that had been ripped from him by the Council. Obi-wan had told him that whenever feelings of frustration or pain crept into him, he should immediately calm himself and his unhappiness. ‘What’s done is done, Anakin,’ he’d said. ‘There is little you can do to alter such things.’

Fine, I’ll just think of something that makes me happy, he thought now.

The vision of his mother slowly melted into the form of someone whose memory never brought him any suffering; Padmé. She was the most beautiful creature alive. Her dark hair and bright eyes enhanced her ethereal loveliness. Anakin often wondered how someone could contain such beauty. The memory of her seemed almost unreal. At times, Anakin would envision himself as King of Naboo with Padmé on his arm. He smiled. She was his beautiful queen and always would be.

He shifted slightly in his seat and sat up slowly. A rush of lightheadedness clouded his vision momentarily and he lowered himself down into the chair once more. As of yet, he hadn’t recovered wholly from the contamination sickness. Sudden spells of weariness would overtake him at times, rendering him a tad weak. As the achy fatigue coursed through him, a longing thought suddenly alighted itself within Anakin’s mind.

I wish Obi-wan was here. . .

Throughout the dark duration of Anakin’s illness, he had always sensed a dim presence that stayed with him always. There was never any question of the presence; he knew it was his master. The feeling was a speck of light in an eternal sea of night. The very essence of Obi-wan’s attendance had seemed to abate the fever and lull it from his body.

Feeling a trace of the past sickness created a need for his master. Reaching for the force, Anakin strove to find knowledge of Obi-wan’s whereabouts. Emanating from him in a great wave, the force expanded his soul and spread it throughout the Temple, flooding every corner of the haven in the likeness of rushing water.

He is here. . . .but not close. . . .

Anakin let go of the force and opened his eyes, a jolt of disappointment brimming within him. Why does he have to be so far away? Can’t he just stay with me?

Glancing to the side, he noticed Veera was now sitting crossed-legged in her seat with her fingers steepled beneath her chin. Her eyes were narrowed at him. Suddenly she gestured very slightly with her hand, and muttered gravely,

“Anakin. . . .you will go and retrieve a glass of water for me.”

He arched an eyebrow and replied,

“Veera. . . .I will wring your neck if you try that again.”

The young girl sighed exasperatedly, and stood from her seat.

“Fine, I’ll go then.” With that, she stalked dramatically across the floor to exit the library. He watched her go, wondering how her future master would ever be able to tolerate her antics for overlong.

“Oy, Anakin!” he heard a harsh whisper beside him. He turned to find Cape Darnek leaning beside him. The boy was three years Anakin’s senior and the apprentice of Cin Drallig.

Cape quickly inclined his head towards the opposite side of the room. Wondering what it was the other padawan seemed so thrilled to see, Anakin glanced in the direction as well. There seemed to be nothing amiss or different.

“What is it?” Anakin asked interestedly.

Cape shook his head brusquely in disbelief and whispered,

“Didn’t you see who just came in?”

Anakin shook his head, feeling foolish.

“Aayla Secura!” the other padawan replied with incredulity.

Turning his attentions towards the entrance doors, he caught sight of Lady Secura. The young Jedi Mistress was currently exchanging words with Jocasta Nu, the Archive caretaker. Anakin barely knew the Twi’lek Jedi. She’d only recently succeeded the trials and achieved the full rank of Jedi. A small ceremony had been held in her honor for the occasion a number of months ago, and Anakin had been present. Obi-wan had briefly introduced them and he remembered that she’d possessed a sort of impish sense of humor that he’d admired. However, other than that, Anakin had never before spoken to her, and thus, did not know her. Why is Cape so interested in her then?

He cocked his head towards the other lad and shrugged.

“So what?” he asked. “She’s probably just researching something.”

Cape’s eyes widened and his jaw dropped.

“So what?! She’s only the most beautiful Jedi known to the Order!”

Anakin gazed back at the Twi’lek and studied her thoughtfully.

She’s graceful enough. . . but she’s not beautiful like Padmé. . . .and her eyes aren’t as majestic as Obi-wan’s.

He heard Cape whisper again,

“What I wouldn’t give to forswear the oath for fifteen minutes with her. . .”

Anakin furrowed his eyes and his palms began to sweat. He didn’t like it when females and sex were blended into the same subject. The entire concept made him squeamish and uneasy. Women are made for their loveliness and beauty. . . not lust. He sat, unmoving, beside his older friend, and audibly gulped.

Relief flew through him as a cool breeze when Cape faced away from the Twi’lek Mistress and faced his chair opposite Anakin. Perhaps he could shift the conversation towards other subjects now. Yet the other lad wasn’t quite finished. He leaned closer to Anakin and muttered,

“So, I hear your Master and Mistress Secura are quite friendly with one another,” his eyebrows rose suggestively. Anakin’s face fell.

What. . . . .?

“What do you mean?” he asked slowly. Suddenly, the air felt very stifled. When did it get so blasted hot in here?

Cape leaned backwards in his chair and cracked his knuckles casually.

“Well, you’re his apprentice aren’t you? Shouldn’t you know?”

Enough with the damn word games!

“What. .do. .you. . mean?” he asked more deliberately, unable to keep the annoyance from his tone.

Cape shifted himself forward again, elbows resting on his knees.

“’S nothing, really. I’ve just heard that every night they meet for an hour in the training hall.”

Anakin blinked. And blinked again. He had noticed that Obi-wan left his rooms at times during the night. Yet he always returned within an hour. In fact, the previous night he’d gone to his master’s quarters to speak with him only to find him missing. Patiently, he’d awaited Obi-wan’s return in the hall. Upon his mentor’s return, the Jedi had seemed rather breathless and overexerted, claiming to have been at practice with his lightsaber.

The muscles in Anakin’s jaw tensed and his breaths came faster. Did he. . . . .lie to me? Was he with. . . . .her? He lifted his gaze to watch Aayla across the room once again. She was now silently sitting at a holonet console, innocently reading the screen with interest. Suddenly, Anakin found that he didn’t like her very much at all. Her sweet nature that had previously charmed him at her succession ceremony now seemed devious.

It was Obi-wan that introduced us. They knew each other already. He laughed at every single thing she said and she’s not even that funny. . . .

The collar of his tunic itched at him irritatingly, and he tugged it harshly. The room seemed to be growing warmer. It was hotter than he’d ever felt.

He lied to me. . . .

. . . . .He was with her!

He stood from his seat, nails biting into his palms. The heat of the room poured onto him. And then suddenly, the heat fell away and the air was like ice.

The neon lights within the library abruptly flickered and burnt down. Puzzled, the inhabitants within the archive gazed around. A moment’s breath later, the lights buzzed alight once more and the cold drifted away.

Anakin stood rooted to the spot and felt utterly spent. What just happened? He felt a tugging at his sleeve.

“Oy! Alright, mate?” Cape asked nervously.

He nodded shakily.

“I – I just need to go lie down, I think,” he managed. The other padawan nodded and smiled,

“Alright, mate. We’ll talk later.”

Stumbling awkwardly, Anakin made his way round the tables, chairs, and shelves to exit the library. He’d never felt so strange in his life. The emotion that welled in his heart was a blend of anger, sadness, and longing. He didn’t cease or pause his stride, not even when he met Veera in the outside hall boasting of her new glass of water that she stated she would not share.

The quiet comfort of the corridor his chamber resided in was a welcome sight. He slowly made his way towards his quarter’s entrance door, sliding his fingers along the smooth wall as he walked. Striving to obey Obi-wan’s advice, he drove the unknown, and unwanted, emotion from his mind and stared blankly at the carpet.

What am I feeling? It’s so horrible. . .

As if in a trance, he came to stand before his door, which momentarily whisked aside to allow him entrance. His room was quiet and cool. The bed sheets were unmade and unkept; he’d forgotten to make his bed when he’d woken. His Jedi cloak lay in a heap in the middle of the floor. Uncaring, he stepped over it and walked to his window, placing his forehead against the cool glass. The endless noise of Coruscant was quiet today. It seemed as if everything was being held within a dream; both hazy and still.

Anakin winced. His thoughts were becoming harder to calm. Beneath the veil of placidity he’d placed over his mind, his emotions were roaring and becoming more difficult to ignore.

Obi-wan’s past of love. . . .could he possibly love Aayla Secura? Is it she who is in his thoughts?

He lifted his right hand to the window pane, his nails scratching at the glass.

No no no no no no, I don’t want to think about it!

Unbridled images of Obi-wan with Mistress Secura filled his head. It angered him. It saddened him. It confused him.

Anakin suddenly lifted his head from the glass, and glared at the transparent reflection of himself in awe.

I’m jealous.

The emotion was now known. Simultaneously, it seemed natural and frightening to him. The only question left in the thirteen year old lad was. . .

Why?


To Be Continued. . . . .

Apologies to my readers for the lateness of this chapter. I was on holiday and only just got back this morning. Reviews are helpful and much appreciated, so thanks very much to everyone who has ever done so. :)