A/N: After seeing the (disappointing) new movie, I couldn't get star wars out of my head so a wrote I short fic about Obi-wan and Anakin while they were on Mustafar in episode III. I always believed Obi-wan to have been exceedingly cruel with how he cut Anakin to pieces and then let him burn to death. So I played with the idea a bit more in my mind.
Warnings for slash, rape and super dark! Obi-wan. Reader discretion is advised. I apologize if something is inaccurate. I havent seen the movies in a long time and never bothered with any extended universe crap.
.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.
The acrid smell of sulfur and ash flooded my senses when I stepped onto the ramp. My boots made hollow, metal sounds as I descended upon the charred earth of Mustafar. Such a desolate place, utterly inhospitable to natural life. It reminded me of the hopelessness of what I was about to do. I'd seen the security recordings from the temple. The council had warned me so long ago, but I did not believe. Could not believe. Not until I could see with my own eyes.
Padme lied in a crumpled heap after Anakin released her from his force grip. I could sense she was not terribly injured, more shocked from what her husband had done. For a moment I too stood there stupidly while Anakin prowled back and forth, spewing angry words at me.
Such a child he was. A foolish boy that I had to rein in yet again.
Except there was no coming back from this...
The force roared in my ears, full of agony and betrayal, and I found it was not Anakin's mind broadcasting those sentiments, it was my own. The dark side was there, inside all of us just beneath the surface and the call was that of a siren. I was not in the habit of listening, however, and slowly and reluctantly, I allowed the emotion to pass.
Mostly.
I drew my lightsaber. I drew it first. My more fanciful thoughts showed me striking down my padawan for the younglings he'd killed and for the vows he'd broken, but no. It would be a lie to say I wished to burn my saber through him for mere trifles as those. It was shameful and base that my reasons for wanting to fight this boy were entirely selfish. This was not about younglings or the council. This was about what he'd done to me.
If these were thoughts steeped in the dark side then so be it. Who was there to judge me anymore?
We commenced our duel and I unleashed things I'd held back since... well, my entire life I suppose. The control I prided myself on: gone. My ideals, my vows, my piteously pious existence came to a shuddering halt in the face of this horribly naughty child.
An enlightening feeling of freedom caused my heart to stutter. I was unbound, unchained. I was here to kill a man. A brother in the force who'd wronged me in the worse way.
Death alone... might just be too good for him.
There were memories that crept up upon me then, unwanted, but impossible to deny. They flashed behind my eyes with every spark of the two light sabers meeting in my face.
Anakin exited the fresher unit in his apartment upon Coruscant. My eyes flickered briefly down his nude form after I'd laid aside the datapad I'd been amusing myself with while awaiting him to finish his lengthy shower. True to form, Anakin's lips quirked into a wicked, arrogant sneer as he paraded himself before me.
"Do you wish to touch me, Master?" he'd asked as a taunt, for at this juncture he'd known me well enough to understand I would never sink so low. Nevertheless, I swallowed thickly before I could refuse, and then chastise him for suggesting such a vile thing.
This became Anakin's new sword to wield against me when he was displeased. From then on there were always conceited remarks about how I couldn't hide my longing for him, how my loins burned for him, how I couldn't keep my eyes off him, and other such ridiculousness that I refused to fall prey to.
Oh how he would have gloated if he'd discovered how true it was.
My rejections frustrated him, I realize, and it all came to a head the day his padawan braid was removed. I was melancholy as we sat in the speeder after the ceremony, thinking upon my own graduation and mourning my Master. Anakin's jealousy pulsed through the force like a toxic dart to the bloodstream.
"I saw the way you used to look at him, Master. I wonder what he would have done if he'd known."
"Known what, Anakin?" I sighed, exasperated.
"That you wished to be his padawan in bed as well."
And I snapped at him then, in my low, displeased voice for insulting Qui-Gon's memory, but the shameless boy continued.
"What did he have that I don't, Master?" And it was a sudden flare of rage that caused me to respond. A momentary slip in my mask.
"Everything," I said and in that one word I embodied all the impossibilities of what Anakin suggested. All my disappointment. All of the anger that came with training this child that Qui-Gon had so selfishly foisted upon me. "We will never speak of this again, Anakin. Do you hear me? I will tolerate this NO LONGER! What my master and I had was something that you and I will never share."
I wished I could take it back as soon as it was beyond my lips, but alas, the damage was done.
Our fight took us to the separatists' quarters atop the volcano, where more victims of Anakin's bloodlust lied in their own fluids. We danced through the door again and back into the pit of lava where we eventually found purchase upon a hovering freight pad. When we made groundfall again, I caught him mid-jump and severed both his legs at the knees.
Mutilating him did not hurt me like I expected, quite the contrary! I felt the urge to laugh. Finally, the boy was in the dirt where he belonged. How long had I wished to put him in his place? Such gloriously forbidden joy!
I joined him upon the ground, kneeling at his side. We were so near the bank that a surge of lava could easily overtake us and set us both aflame. Anakin cried. Screamed about how he hated me. I fisted my hand in his hair and pushed his nose into that burnt sand.
His pretty, pretty hair. I'd had dreams of petting and caressing it, letting those chocolate locks slide through my fingers in more than just a pat of masterly praise. Those lips that loved to insult me might be put to a better use upon my body, in a place I refused even myself from touching. Those eyes that always burned with indignation, that were a force all on their own with the power to rile my most heinous desires, would that those eyes gazed at me half lidded and pleading for completion, pleading for something only I could give.
You are sin, Anakin.
I knelt over him and finally tasted his skin, putting my teeth to the sensitive flesh just below his ear. The taste itself was one of sweat and ash, but the act, the power was intoxicating. Why stop there?
This was not Anakin, after all. This was someone else. Someone new. Some Sith lord named Darth Vader. I owed no compassion or mercy to a Sith lord.
Vader howled a Huttese curse and swiped at me with his mechanical arm. I caught it and twisted it until the metal crushed beneath my fingers.
"I came here to destroy you, Anakin. That is what I'm going to do."
I was going to act upon our shared, perverse fantasy in one last cutting mockery. Whatever Anakin always wished from me, let him finally have it so that I could tear it from his grasp.
I bared what was necessary, and my hands lingered in soft touches upon his slick flesh. I touched everything I wanted how I wanted and how long I wanted. There was no longer anything holding me back.
"Mast..er!" the boy reverted to weak pleas after expending his anger. I wanted to tell him how he'd only brought this on himself, but I was too distracted by the heat, and not that of Mustafar. He had no legs to hold open, and I suppose that made it easier to claim whatever virtue he'd had left. I'd never before thought of ruining him this way, but then again I never thought of a situation in which he was already ruined.
We coupled violently on that lava bank and though he struggled, I never allowed him to turn and face me. I didn't want to give him the satisfaction of knowing he'd brought me down onto this own, dark level. Afterwords, I had a moment where I was tempted to let the rising tide of magma claim us both.
But then I thought of Padme and her child. I thought of Yoda. I thought of Bail and the rest of the Senate. There were still things my wretched self was needed for. I staggered up the bank and away from the crippled man and sat panting as fire caught the hem of his robes.
Anakin screamed anew as the flames consumed him and his one remaining arm reached out to me in a horrific bid for salvation. I watched. All I did was watch while the voice of my Master whispered his disappointment in my head.
Let it be burned into your memory as painfully as it is burning into his flesh, for you will have to live with this horror for the rest of your days, Obi-wan.
I stood on unsteady legs, ready to return to Padme. Anakin was dead and my world had come crashing down, but hope was not yet lost for the rest of the galaxy.