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 as Obi-wan spars with Aayla Secura. . .

Chapter XI – Unwarranted Anger


Lightsabers fizzled and crackled intensely within the darkened training room. The bright glow emitting from the blades lightened the room in an unearthly blue glow. Within the center of the room, two Jedi sparred with one another; their leaps and strikes blending into one fluid motion. It was the dance of the Jedi. A dance that could balance life and death.

The taller of the two paused and held the blade formidably before him, awaiting the rush attack from his opponent. After a moment’s hesitation the other Jedi finally rushed, showering a flurry of attacks; all of which were parried perfectly by the taller knight. Blue sparks fluttered into the air, discharged from the heated fusion of the sabers.

The knights locked their blades together, each striving to drive the other away. Of a sudden, they stopped. They parted from one another and caught their breath. The room’s bright illumination dulled as the sabers were retracted into their hilts with a low hiss.

“Forgive me, Obi-wan, but I must take rest,” Aayla Secura spoke between ragged breaths. Placing her saber into her belt, she leaned forward, hands upon her knees, and exhaled with weariness.

Obi-wan nodded in acquiescence, and sheathed his own blade in turn. Roving his eyes upward, he noted that the night was beginning to grow aged. The circular window within the domed ceiling of the training chamber was naught but a glass shield of darkness.

The hour was indeed late; however he’d made a promise to young Aayla that he meant to keep. Since the Twi’lek’s ascension to Knighthood, she had requested Obi-wan as a sparring partner in order to hone her skills. Understanding that the young Jedi no doubt wished to prove her status by increasing her dueling ability, he’d gladly obliged her request to provide her the aid she needed. For the past month, they’d practiced with one another nightly for a short span of time. He’d only agreed to train with her after the hours of sunset, however. Much of his attention was reserved for his apprentice during the day.

“When you initiate an attack, try to blend your strikes with one another sinuously, instead of rapidly,” he offered to the Jedi Mistress. “You will find it is less tiring and much more staggering to your opponent.”

Aayla straightened herself, rotating her shapely head round her shoulders in order to crack the vertebrae in her neck.

“Yes,” she murmured to herself. “Yes, I believe you’re right.” Suddenly she smiled and met her eyes with his. “How is it you’ve become an expert on matters of rush attacks, Obi-wan?” she asked.

Obi-wan smiled as well and blew out a weary breath.

“My apprentice makes the same mistake quite frequently,” he admitted.

Nodding knowingly, Aayla grasped her saber from her belt and it hummed to life.

“Then I’ll just try again, shall I?” she invited, waiting for Obi-wan to ignite his blade as well.

The older Jedi prepared to do just that when he stopped suddenly. His hand froze, and he nearly staggered. It seemed as though his mind was being tugged, as if on the opposite end of a long rope. One thought alone seemed to associate with the strange sensation:

I must go to Anakin.

He was unsure why. Anakin could not have been in any kind of danger or physical pain; he would have sensed that immediately. And yet, his mind was compelling him to go to his padawan. His presence was needed.

He glanced up to the puzzled gaze of Aayla.

“What’s wrong, Kenobi?” she asked, lowering her blade to her side.

Obi-wan shook his head bemusedly, lost in confusion and slight worry.

“I – I’m sorry, Aayla, I must go. . .” He turned from her and strode from the center of the room, seeking the exit.

“Till tomorrow then!” he heard Aayla call after him and he vaguely nodded to her as he left the room.

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He exited the elevator onto the floor of the living quarters and strode down the hallway. Running a hand through his hair, he wondered what kind of plight his padawan was in now. I do hope he’s not done anything foolish.

“Master Obi-wan!” he heard a call from the other end of the corridor. He turned round abruptly, his cloak swirling about his heels. Young Padawan, Veera Marx, was running towards him, something small and silver clasped in her hands. She reached him, breathless and eyes shining, holding the very object before her. He recognized instantly what it was; Anakin’s lightsaber.

“Anakin left this in the library this morning,” the young girl informed him. “I haven’t been able to find him. So you can give it to him,” she continued.

Obi-wan took the saber from her hands and held it before him, brow creasing in worry. How could Anakin have been so thoughtless to leave it behind?

“Thank you, Veera,” he nodded absently to her. He turned to walk away, yet he felt the padawan grasp at his sleeve.

“Master Obi-wan, I’m real sorry to detain you, but I just wanted to ask if you knew why Anakin was mad at me,” she rushed onward, her eyes large and inquisitive.

“Mad at you? Why would he be angry with you?” he asked, feeling more and more puzzled.

“Well, he was fine this morning,” Veera explained, “but then later he walked right past me in the hall without even looking at me. He seemed real mad.”

What could have gotten him so angry? And what has it to do with me? The urge to speak with Anakin tripled. I need to go to him. Looking down upon young Veera, he strove to smile reassuringly.

“I’m sure he’s not angry with you, Veera. But I will speak with him.” He patted the side of her face congenially before turning round once more to retreat down the corridor.

Reaching the access door to Anakin’s quarters, Obi-wan felt the area completely devoid of any of his apprentice’s presence at all. Wherever he was, Anakin was not in his room. Nevertheless he entered into the chamber as the door hissed open. Perhaps he would be able to discern a clue as to where the lad was.

Inside his padawan’s room, Obi-wan found it to be rather bright despite the deepening night. The boy almost never closed his shades, not even at night. The distant city lights set the room aglow in a pale ambiance. He also noted, somewhat gallingly, that the room was a mess. Tunics, blankets, boots, and stray pieces of paper were littered everywhere.

“How he can live in this mess is beyond me. . .” he murmured, looking round the room. Any sign of his apprentice was absent. Obi-wan didn’t know whether to feel angry or worried. And then he happened to glance up.

Anakin was standing in the doorway, his expression cold as ice. Obi-wan froze, surprise speeding his heart rate.

“What are you doing in here?” Anakin asked. His voice was demanding and heated.

Ignoring his apprentice’s question, Obi-wan countered with an inquiry of his own.

“Where have you been?”

He watched as Anakin’s eyes moved past him to the window. His eyes were constantly moving and shifting. He’d placed his hands behind his back to steady them.

What’s wrong with him?

“Why are you in my room, Obi-wan?” the boy repeated quietly.

Obi-wan very nearly grimaced at the informal way his apprentice had addressed him.

“I was looking for you!” It was becoming more difficult to abate the agitation in his tone. Anakin nodded slowly, lost in thoughts Obi-wan could not perceive. After a moment’s hesitation, the boy slowly walked towards the center of the room, taking care to hide his eyes from his master. He began reaching upon the ground to pick up his crumpled heaps of tunics, folding them neatly and dropping them atop the bed. It seemed as though he had forgotten Obi-wan was present at all.

“Anakin,” Obi-wan began. Anakin continued to keep his back turned towards him, still unspeaking. “Why have you suddenly become so angry, and where have you been?” A feeling of mistrust crept upon the Jedi Master; Anakin’s anger and mysterious absence was something he liked not at all. What was the cause of it?

Slowly, Anakin ceased arranging his wrinkled attire and lifted his head, gazing at the wall.

“I was speaking with Chancellor Palpatine.”

That single statement sent a torrid rush of thoughts to consume the Jedi Master. He left the Temple without my consent? And why in the name of all that is sacred did he go to the Chancellor?! Anakin hates politics! He brought a hand before his eyes, and thought for a moment before speaking.

“Anakin. . . .why – why did you go to the Chancellor’s office?” He drew back his hand from his eyes to gaze questioningly at his apprentice across the room. Frustratingly, Anakin’s eyes refused to meet his own decisively. When the boy finally replied, it was in a firm and resolute voice.

“The last time we were in the presence of the Chancellor, he told me that if there was ever anything I wished to speak of, he would gladly listen. . . . .He’s a good friend.”

Obi-wan suddenly felt as though he’d been stabbed by a saber. Anakin, if you needed to speak to someone, why did you not come to me? Have I not always been there for you? Did we not mourn Qui-gon’s death together? Have we not shared moments of both laughter and sorrow with one another? Have I not answered every question you’ve ever asked, no matter how silly it seemed to me?

The Knight pulled his cloak’s deep sleeves closer around his wrists, feeling suddenly very cold. Audibly swallowing, he strove to find words to speak. He did not know what to say.

“Anakin, you – you are aware that you are never to leave the Temple without my attendance or explicit permission?” he asked hesitantly, his voice sounding very small and feeble.

Anakin gave a single, determined nod, and replied;

“I know. I’ve disobeyed your orders, and I will accept the consequences.” And then, he slowly turned his head and glared at Obi-wan, his eyes shining with intensity.

“But at least I was honest, Master.”

“Honest?” Obi-wan’s eyes furrowed. What does he mean?

“I didn’t lie,” Anakin answered.

Obi-wan was beginning to feel impatient; a trait he did not possess in abundance. This conversation was heading in a direction he was completely oblivious to.

“Anakin, speak frankly, please!” he moved closer towards the boy, fighting the urge to grip his shoulders and shake the answers out of him.

He noticed the muscles in the padawan’s jaw tightening, along with his breaths becoming sharper. For many moments, he didn’t speak. His eyes drifted to the window once more, shifting across the city landscape hurriedly.

“I know of your meetings with Aayla Secura.” Anakin spat out her name as if it were some kind of poison upon his tongue.

Obi-wan stood, rooted to the floor, feeling mystified quite beyond belief. Why should that make him angry?

“Al – Alright. . . .” he ventured.

Anakin swiftly turned his head towards his master, as if something inside him had snapped.

“’Alright’?!”, he began, sounding incredulous. “Is that all you have to say? ‘Alright’?!”

Standing before his enraged apprentice, and transfixed with bewilderment, Obi-wan retorted,

“What would you have me say, Anakin?”

Anakin turned away in anger and strode away from him. For a moment, Obi-wan thought he would leave the room, yet the boy merely reached the opposite end of the chamber and began to pace back and forth. His head was lowered and his breath could be heard hissing in and out of his flared nostrils.

“You lied to me, Obi-wan.” He was speaking accusingly. “I’ve trusted you unconditionally, and you lied to me.” His voice was low, almost as if he were mulling the accusations through his head as he spoke them, and his fists were continually clenching and unclenching.

What is this madness that has overtaken him?! Shaking his head in disbelief, Obi-wan countered,

“Anakin, I have never lied to you. Not once. In what way do you believe I have lied?”

At this Anakin ceased his incessant pacing and stopped, gracing Obi-wan with his cold stare once more. He maintained eye contact as he spoke,

“Last night, I went to your chamber to find you gone. When you came back, you told me that you’d ‘merely been practicing with you lightsaber’. But you were with her! I know you were!”

It was Obi-wan’s turn to face away. He walked to the opposite wall and leaned a hand upon it, slightly steadying himself. A revelation was beginning to blossom in his mind. Does he somehow believe that I am having an affair with Aayla?!He began voicing his thoughts as he pushed himself from the wall to face the youth that was glaring heatedly at him,

“Are you insinuating that Mistress Secura and I are. . . .involved?”

Anakin straightened his shoulders, striving to appear tall.

“I . . . . am.” He stated falteringly.

Obi-wan brought a hand to his eyes once again and briefly closed them. This is utterly preposterous. . .

“Anakin,” he replied incredulously, “let’s put aside for the moment that I am bound by the Code of the Jedi and have sworn never to take a lover nor mate.” He paused, searching for the words to continue. “Firstly, where did you receive such a notion?”

For the first time, a slight shade of crimson flushed Anakin’s complexion, and he looked away, seeming almost ashamed.

“Cape Darnek told me. . .” he muttered feebly.

“Cape Darnek told you?” Obi-wan echoed disbelievingly.

He’s basing information concerning my personal affairs on the accounts of Cape Darnek? Master Drallig’s apprentice?! Obi-wan knew quite well who Cape Darnek was. He was a lusty youth of sixteen years of age, and quite notorious for his admiration of the female gender. Obi-wan often wondered how young Darnek would ever succeed in the role of a celibate Jedi Knight.

“He told me,” Anakin continued, “that every night, you meet with her in the training hall--”

“Precisely!” Obi-wan cut him off, his voice rising in agitation. “I do meet with her nightly! Since she was granted the rank of Jedi Knight, I have been assisting in her endeavor to sharpen her saber skills! Nothing more, nothing less! So you see, I was not lying to you, Anakin, for I was in fact training with my saber!” Now breathing heavily, Obi-wan fought the impulse to storm out of the room in frustration. He watched as Anakin’s face fell from cold anger to heated shame.

“Then you. . . .”the boy asked meekly, “. . . then you do not love her.”

“No, Anakin, of course not! She is my friend!”

Moments passed in heavy silence as Master and Apprentice glared at one another emotionally. In the distance, a high drone of a speeder’s engine could be heard soaring through the city.

Obi-wan realized that he’d had enough of the argument and decide to leave. He’d heard that growing adolescents could be temperamental at times, yet this seemed a tad excessive. Anakin’s anger was completely irrational and unwarranted. Reaching into his belt he pulled Anakin’s lightsaber free and held it before him so the boy could see it.

Anakin’s eyes flickered in familiarity and realization as he recognized the blade as his own.

“I’m going to hold on to this until you’ve come to your senses.” Obi-wan stated. “Personally, I’ve had enough of your accusations for the time being and wish to return to my own chamber.”

He pushed past the boy, imagining that he did not notice the pained expression on his padawan’s face, and headed for the door.

“Obi-wan, wait.”

The defeated voice of his apprentice crumpled Obi-wan’s resolution immediately. Slowly he turned around. Anakin had sunk onto the edge of his bed, his shoulders lowered in resignation. Sighing, Obi-wan quietly walked closer until he stood before the boy, looking down on him. A pain of guilt washed over him as he saw the blue eyes of the padawan glistening with emotion.

“I’m so sorry, Obi-wan,” Anakin whispered as he reached forward to hug Obi-wan around the middle. “I’m sorry I was angry. I’m sorry I was jealous. . .” he muttered into the fabric of his master’s tunic.

Jealous? Jealous of Aayla? Why. . . .?

Though he was puzzled, this apologetic Anakin was far more agreeable to Obi-wan than an angry one, so he merely allowed himself to smile and comfort the lad. He realized that this act of affection from his apprentice had been sorely missed. As a younger boy, Anakin had always hugged him whether the situation called for it or no. However, as the boy had grown older, he’d become more of a comrade and friend than that of a child in need of love.

Sighing in contentment, he allowed one his hands to travel over Anakin’s short cropped hair affectionately.

“Anakin?” he asked softly.

“What?” the boy replied, his voice muffled against Obi-wan’s torso.

“Promise me that the next time you are feeling angry, you will come straight to me.” Please don’t go to the Chancellor again. . .

He felt the boy’s head nod against him.

After a few moments, Obi-wan decided Anakin was best left alone in order to simmer down. However, in an attempt to pull out of his padawan’s embrace, he felt Anakin grip him tighter.

“Stay.” he heard the boy ask.

And Obi-wan did.

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Thank you for taking the time to read. The reason this chapter has taken so long to update was because there was a death in my family and I had no time to write for nearly two weeks. However, I’m back on track once again and will return to regular updates.:)