Chapter 1: Proditio
Chapter Text
“Though those that are betray’d do feel the treason sharply, yet the traitor stands in worse case of woe.”
William Shakespeare
Obi-wan
Humiliated
Obi-wan felt utterly humiliated.
In the sparkling ballroom, alight with the grandest of chandeliers, decorated with beautiful flowers, and dotted with twirling bodies of men and women in exquisite attire, Obi-wan felt humiliation sully what should’ve been a feast to his senses.
The growing humiliation bore down on him so hard that the music of the orchestra, which he had so often enjoyed, was grating on his hearing. His eyes were fixed on his wife, who was currently in the arms of a man who Obi-wan knew nothing about. She had been waltzing with him through three song changes, which was simply too long to be acceptable for a lady in matrimony in society.
Obi-wan sat as women and men around him erupted in gossip. He had made the mistake of looking about him a few times and had been met with people immediately looking away and putting an abrupt stop to their hushed whispering as if they’d been caught staring. In the several gleaming eyes he had caught looking at him, he had seen mirth, mockery, intrigue, and, worst of all, pity.
It was a scandal, and people were thrilled to finally have something to occupy their empty worlds.
Another song changed, and his wife was still dancing with that man, who looked too young for her. He was clad in formal military attire, with a white jacket adorned with a few medals and dark blue pants. His dark blonde hair was gelled back but slightly curled on the edge. He looked like every young girl’s conception of what a charming prince would look like, but his wife was no young girl; she was Obi won’s wife and the mother of his son.
What irked Obi-wan was not the way that man was looking at his wife. After all, he was not the first to vie for Padme, but he had indeed been the first to catch her attention. She was looking at him as if there was no one around them, as if they were all alone in the world.
The sight of his own wife being so smitten was stoking the fire of anger in him. They both looked so lost in each other as their joined bodies spun on the polished and reflective white marble of the ballroom now through what would be four songs. Their flaming passion, which was so apparent, was out there for all of society to bear witness, while Obi-wan Kenobi, who had always liked not being so conspicuous about his affairs and often preferred blending into the world, stood out and became the focus of the entirety of the ballroom.
His wife’s shameful display of outright adulterous affections has put Obi-wan’s reputation at stake, and he has become the source of mockery and derision for the entire society at present.
Finally, the two parted. Padme still kept gazing into the young man’s eyes, who was now kissing the back of her gloved hand. They both bowed slightly and lingered after the bow a little longer than was required or acceptable in society’s eyes, and then Padme’s eyes, which were still gleaming with merriment, met Obi-wan’s disapproving and angry ones through the room. Her smile immediately fell, and her lips thinned. Her eyes then became dull as she stepped away from the dancing area and walked towards the gathering of women folk who were alight with gossip and were constantly and furtively glancing at him.
Obi-wan knew he must look displeased but that was just a small extent of the thunderous emotions that he felt, which were creating a spiraling chaos within him. His rational mind was trying to take hold of his instincts, which just wanted to lash out. His anger was simmering against his skin and was akin to a wayward horse that threatened to break away from its reins.
As the tumultuous night stretched on, he and his wife stayed separated. When Obi-wan finally had enough of the false pleasantries and mindless conversations, he glanced at the womenfolk and his heart thudded in his ribcage when he couldn’t spot his wife in the gathering. At once, his eyes searched the ballroom for the blonde who his wife had danced so passionately with, and his stomach churned when he couldn’t find him either.
He promptly excused himself and moved past the gathering. The clamor of the ballroom faded away as he wandered in the halls and desperately searched for the two.
After what had been a desperate, torturous search, he dejectedly walked towards the ballroom, and his eyes, by accident, saw something that seared through his very being.
Near the door to the ballroom, Padme stood with her hand stretched out before her. Her hand, which was bare and ungloved, was in the hands of that despicable blonde, who was cradling it and slowly caressing it. He whispered something in her ear then, and her face beamed at once. Soon, however, someone came through the door, and Padme jumped and abruptly pulled her hand away from the man. She then covered her hand with the glove again and bowed lightly at the man who bowed in return. Padme then went inside the ballroom first, followed by that reprehensible man.
All the while, frozen, he stood, replaying in his mind what he had seen. When at first his mind could’ve reasoned himself out of what he had witnessed on the dance floor; now, however, that was simply put an impossible feat. What he had seen resembled a clandestine meeting between two lovers. And what he had seen had proved his suspicion, which had grown upon first seeing the two dance together.
Slowly, he walked inside the ballroom again. He curtly nodded at those who greeted him, which he knew was utterly rude, but it was simply impossible for him to be polite and calm when, in his mind, an angry storm was raging.
His wife, who was dressed in a beautiful pink gown, came to him at last. She must’ve recognized at once what he was feeling, for her eyes darkened with anger in return.
He had prided himself on being a tempered, rational, and prudent man, but currently he was failing to conceal his growing anger as he looked at his wife.
“I think it prudent that we retire early tonight.” He bit out testily.
Padme looked like she wanted to disobey him, but when she looked at the invasive stares around them, she relented.
“It is a pity to leave so soon. Especially as they say when the night is still young.”
Obi-wan’s eyes widened as he looked at the man who had so brazenly interjected in what was clearly a private conversation between a husband and his wife.
He was not all surprised to see that it was the same young, brash gentleman who his wife had been making sheep’s eyes at all through the night. Padme looked equally surprised, and for the first time, as she looked about them at the prying eyes did her face blush with what Obi-wan knew was shame.
“And who might you be, sir?” Obi-wan asked as he extended his hand to the despicable, shameful man, his voice dripping with false politeness.
“Ah it’s very unbecoming of me to not have introduced myself to you, Count Obi-wan. I am Baron Anakin Skywalker.” Anakin shook his hand with a grip too tight to be polite, and Obi-wan returned it with equal fervor. Up close, the brash, impudent man looked even more handsome. His eyes, which were a royal blue, were glimmering with amusement as his pouty mouth was stretched into a haughty smirk.
Anakin looked like any other arrogant and disagreeable young soldier who had risen up the ranks quicker than men his age, but the youth must be a man of exceptional talent to have been made a Baron this young.
“ Baron skywalker. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance. However, I must insist.” Obi-wan deliberately left out any reasons that would justify their leaving so soon. Who was Skywalker to walk into a conversation that was between his wife and him? It was impudent and very evasive.
“I bid you farewell.” Obi-wan bowed his head lightly and turned away from the foolish man and his equally foolish wife. He then briskly walked out of the ballroom without sparing a single glance in any direction, which was rude and impolite, but Obi-wan could only subdue his boiling anger for so long.
Obi-wan prayed that his wife had enough rationality left in her to not stall further and bring more dishonor to their name.
“My lord” Johannase bowed as he opened the door to the carriage, and Obi-wan immediately slid in. He felt relieved when he saw Padme just a few paces behind. Her pink gown looked white in the light of the moon, and it glided with her every step. She had looked remarkable, and Obi-wan had made sure to let her know. However, now he wondered whether she had dressed so elaborately, not for Obi-wan but for that impudent Baron.
Johannase helped her sit opposite him, and he immediately turned his eyes away from her and looked out the window of the carriage instead.
Their ride home was full of heavy silence. The air and the tension between them was thick. He could feel his rein on his anger slipping as only the thundering sound of the horse’s hooves hitting the cobblestones filled the air.
What should he do? What should he say? Had he been deceived by his senses? Had his jealousy made him see things that weren’t there? If only that had been the case. Obi-wan wanted to be disillusioned. There was nothing more he wanted than to be deceived by his senses. However, he knew what he had seen was indeed true. Maybe he had been the sole person to have seen such a thing, but people’s eyes that had been directed at him and at Padme had told him that he wasn’t alone in having witnessed his wife’s transgression.
The horse neighed loudly as the clacking of its hooves against the road came to a halt. Obi-wan felt his pulse spike as Johannase opened the carriage door. Obi-wan stepped out and swiftly climbed the stairs towards the main door of their house. Albert, his butler, stood at the door, bowing with the other staff. Obi-wan released a heavy sigh at the sight. He had requested Albert to not be so formal and to not trouble himself or the house staff to stand as they stood every time Obi-wan returned, but Albert insisted that this was part of the old ways and must be adhered to given Obi-wan’s station.
Obi-wan nodded, and the staff dispersed. Albert followed after him, just as housekeeper Anna went to Padme’s side.
“I would like to have a conversation with my wife. If you and Anna will please excuse us for a moment.", Obi-wan removed his frock coat and handed it over to Albert, who bowed and disappeared along with Anna, leaving only him and his wife in the hallway, which was lit by the flickering flames of the fireplace, which quite aptly mirrored his own unsteady and burning flames of anger.
Taking a deep inhale, he turned to his wife, who was standing erect and with her hands folded in front. Her eyes were full of scorn as they regarded Obi-wan, and his jaw clenched, his rein on his swelling anger finally snapping.
“How did you meet him?” He asked simply. After all, it could simply not have been their first acquaintance. For a woman to dance so brazenly with a stranger in the ball room for four songs was simply unheard of, let alone for one to be meeting in such a clandestine manner.
The way that Baron had held her bare hand in his, it was clear that his wife and the man had some history that Obi-wan was ignorant of.
“Two months prior to your coming when I went to Count Vronski’s ball.” Padme replied tersely.
Obi-wan had always felt that letting any emotion overpower you was a sign of weakness. He had read Plato, and he knew of the three-part man Plato had described. Plato had said precisely that rationality must rule a man. A man who lets either passions or base desires of one’s body take control would only cause himself to enter a chaotic state where his rationality would crumble and the consequences would be devastating. So he had always followed this as a rule. On the battlefield, when men had fallen around him or when he would have to operate on the wounded and chop off their limbs, He had always been ruled by rationality in his career as an army doctor, but right now, his rationality could no longer curtail his overpowering emotions.
His hands balled into fists at his side as his wife all but confirmed his suspicions.
“So you were betraying me all this time while I was at the trenches fighting a bloody war and tending to the wounded.” Obi-wan’s voice was quivering with anger.
Padme smoldered with resentment as she brought herself closer to him. She was standing a few feet away as she yelled her next words at him: “You should be ashamed of yourself for making such obscene insinuations! You have sullied what is clearly an innocent friendship between me and Sir Anakin. I would expect this from people who do not know me but not you!”
Fuming Obi-wan grabbed Padme’s arm and harshly pulled her against him. He looked down at her , baring his teeth as he snarled at her loudly, causing her to flinch in what he could see as first signs of fear. “You take me for a fool!? Everyone could see you making sheep’s eyes at that man! And I saw you two." At once, his wife’s eyes widened, and he continued in a voice which was quivering with anger, “I saw how he held your bare hand in his, how you laughed at what he whispered in your ear. Do you think I do not have eyes?!”
“It was an innocent conversation between us. Baron Skywalker said that he could read palms, and I indulged him. That was all, I—”
Obi-wan saw that image flash before his eyes again of that despicable Baron touching Padme’s bare hand, and he became alight with rage. He harshly, in a what was brutal manner, wrenched her hand closer still and growled, “Innocent?! Do not think me a fool, Padme!”
Tears welled up in his wife’s eyes as she looked back at him. “ You are hurting me, Obi-wan. Let go, please.” She said softly.
Fury rose within him in crashing waves, and he tightened his hold around Padme’s wrist with a crushing force, causing a whine to slip from her lips.
“Be honest with me, for I am no blind man. I could see people looking at me and laughing at me as my wife danced away with another man with no regard for proper etiquette or what’s acceptable in the eyes of society. You, a married woman and a mother, improperly and indecently danced with a man who I have never been acquainted with. You danced with that man for four songs, and throughout it, you looked at him with so much passion that the entire crowd in attendance could see. And then, without so much as a word to me, you left the room with him. I had wandered the halls in search of you, only to come upon the sight of that man touching you and interacting with you in such an intimate and improper manner. Now tell me honestly, have you slept with him?”
He could see a flurry of emotions pass through his wife’s face as he talked: fear, guilt, disbelief, surprise, and lastly, fury. Padme, with all the strength that she could muster, pulled her wrist free from his tight hold and slapped him across the face.
Obi-wan’s face turned with sharp force, and his eyes widened at the sting that followed the slap.
“You disgust me.” Padme sneered, her face stricken with pain and anger as tears trailed down her cheek one after another.
She then pulled her gown up with her hands and swiftly left the room.
Obi-wan was so stunned that he could only watch her retreating back.
In all of his life, which would be forty-five years on this earth, he had never been humiliated like this.
Despite being a Count’s son and being born with a silver spoon in his mouth, he had worked tirelessly to make a name for himself. He had drowned himself in books and, after several sleepless nights, had finally achieved something on his own. After finishing his studies in medicine, he joined the army and received the king's praise and several accolades. In his youth, he had fought on the battlefield for his king and country, and now, as an older man, he had tended to several wounded men as a doctor.
He had come back, retiring from years of service in the army, in order to fulfill his new dream, which was to build a hospital for the poor and treat them for free. He had thought that he would return to his loving wife and son and spend his later years of life with them, providing his services to those who needed them the most and couldn’t afford them.
But what he had come back home to was Padme, the love of his life, finding joy in the arms of another man and to a society that laughed at his misfortune.
And now his wife had raised her hand against him, which Obi-wan had never thought was possible.
Anger left him just as suddenly as it had overpowered him. In the void created by it entered the drowning feeling of misery, and Obi-wan, who had decided that he would be the rational one, couldn’t do anything as he closed his eyes and felt his lungs being filled to the brim with misery, and breathing became a memory.
Days have passed since that wretched ball, and Obi-wan has yet to set his eyes on his wife. His wife had shut herself away in their son’s room. Ivan had come to sup with him, but not Padme. Obi-wan didn’t have any stirring to see her either after the blasted slap she had landed on his face. For what? For enquiring into the truth.
He looked at himself in the mirror as Albert helped him get dressed for the day. He buttoned the cuff of his shirt as Albert patiently waited with his waistcoat. His eyes couldn’t help but be drawn to the grays that were mixing with his auburn hair. The fine lines and wrinkles also stood out to him. He was aging at a faster pace than his wife, who had just entered her early thirties. In five years’ time, he would enter his fiftieth year, and Padme would be thirty-seven. This vast age gap had not been a cause of concern to him when he had married her at thirty-five and she had been twenty-two, but now, as he looked in the mirror, he wondered if perhaps this was the reason that his wife had been disloyal to him.
An image of his wife in that arrogant young man’s arms as they waltzed suddenly flashed before his eyes, and he took a jerky breath in.
“My Lord, are you alright?” Albert’s wrinkly face was full of concern.
Obi-wan was not a vain man. He knew that change and the principle of impermanence were the truths of life, but as he looked at Albert’s papery, thin skin, which was sagging down his cheeks, With the deep furrows that were riddled on his face and only a few stark white strands of hair left on his head, he felt a growing sense of impending doom. He knew that one day he would resemble Albert. He would become frail as he aged. His bones would become brittle, and his skin and joints would lose their elasticity. His spine would bend, and his muscles would lose their strength. He would be tired and in pain almost all the time. So sexual trysts would be the farthest thing on his mind.
His mother had warned him when she had been alive when he had informed her of his desire to marry Padme. He had at that time thought of it as a silly jibe but now he wondered whether his mother had not been joking at all.
“Are you sure? She is quite young; not that you’re old, of course, but down the line, it could become challenging.”
Obi-wan had chuckled as he had replied, "Challenging? Really mother? I’m fit as a fiddle! And unless some misfortune strikes me, I’m sure I will continue to stay fit. I quit cigars a while ago, and I don’t indulge in any excess drinking. I’m sure I’ll be fine, mother. If I did fall sick and lose my health sooner, I’m sure Padme would not love me less. After all, love means through thick and thin.”
Obi-wan had been quite satisfied with his answer then, but his mother had only frowned.
“Love, you say. There aren’t many who know what love really is, my son.” She had relied with twinkling eyes as she teased him.
He had been taken aback by her reply and had said, “I’m sure I know what love is, mother.” He had then stood up to sit by her side and pecked her on the cheek. “After all, it’s all you’ve given me.”
She had smiled in turn, quite impressed by his reply.
“My Lord?" Obi-wan snapped out of pensive thoughts and looked at Albert, who showed the first signs of impatience. “Right, sorry." He then extended his arms outward for Albert, which enabled the butler to put the waistcoat on him.
After he had put on his frock coat and was correcting his tie, a thought struck him.
He cleared his throat as he addressed his butler.
“Albert. Do you happen to know of ..uhhh ..Baron Anakin Skywalker?”
Albert’s face contorted in somewhat of a worried but, at the same time, knowing look.
"Yes, my lord. Lady Padme has been paid several visits by the Baron in question.”
Several
Obi-wan felt a peculiar feeling in the pit of his stomach, which he knew to not be sickness, but its intensity felt utterly unpleasant all the same.
“And when did the visits begin? He asked as the troubling feeling kept growing inside of him.
“They started two months prior to your coming, my lord.” Albert’s lips thinned as his eyes grew full of pity for Obi-wan.
Obi-wan didn’t know what to say to that.
He had suspected as much, but to have Albert confirm felt egregious.
The expression of pity on his butler’s fate confirmed to him that these visits were anything but normal, friendly visits. His staff shared the same suspicion that most of the society had formed at the ball then.
The pitiful eyes of Albert’s were, however, like a match to his dying flame of anger. Nevertheless, it would be highly improper to direct his rage at someone who wasn’t the source of it.
The uncomfortable tightness in his gut was too much, and he felt that he had had enough talking about his wife’s indiscretions.
So he silently let Albert wipe his coat of any lint or any stray fibers. When he was fully dressed and was about to leave, Albert’s hesitant voice halted his steps to the door.
“My lord, forgive me for prying, but Lady Padme’s behavior has not been proper as of late. Given her station and your high standing-“
Obi-wan felt a stab of irritation as he raised his voice, “You are correct, Albert. You shouldn’t be prying.”
He turned his angry eyes towards his butler, who looked ashamed and had his head lowered.
Obi-wan felt guilt rise in him at the sorry sight of his most loyal servant. Albert had practically raised him. The old man had been the one who taught Obi-wan about etiquette and how to be a proper, upstanding man in society. He had been the one who had introduced Obi-wan to the likes of Plato, Aristotle, and Hume. He had been the one who had instilled in Obi-wan the importance of humility and virtue. Albert was no mindless servant. Albert was a highly intelligent man who somehow was content with just being Obi-wan’s butler. Obi-wan had asked why Albert had decided to let his intellect go to waste, and the old man had smiled and said that he had the most honorable duty of educating Obi-wan and aiding him to become a prudent, rational, and virtuous Count.
Obi-wan felt the real reason was that Albert came from a poorer class, unlike Obi-wan, whose family was part of the aristocracy. Obi-wan’s family had connections with the royal family of Russia, with his great, great, great paternal grandmother being King Peter the First’s real sister. If Albert was born into the aristocracy, he would’ve been a highly respectable intellectual.
“I’m sorry. Albert.” He apologized with his head hung low and blood rushing to his face. “It’s just testing times for me. I have not been able to keep a stable mind that one ought to have.” Obi-wan sighed as he pinched the bridge of his nose.
“You don’t have to apologize, my lord.” Albert said as he slightly bowed his head.
“Thank You. Now I must go. I'll return in time for supper.”
Truth be told, Obi-wan didn’t want to come back home. He wanted to stay at his new hospital, tending to patients. He didn’t know how he would react if he were to come face-to-face with his wife after the confirmation from Albert about her inappropriate dalliances with that despicable Baron.
Obi-wan was not an aggressive person and never so crude as to curse, but right now he couldn’t help but let out a few curses and imagine himself choking that Baron with his bare hands.
That blasted Baron deserved to burn in hellfire.
He returned at nightfall and chose to dine in his office room. After finishing his reheated supper, he drowned himself in his medical books. He had read till his eyes had watered and his vision had become blurry, then he played music on his gramophone as he gazed outside his window at the darkness that had enveloped the world. It was a new moon, and only dim lights from the street lamps lit the world, which had dropped off to enter the fantastical world of dreams.
Sleep, however, was lost to him, and so was the world of dreams. The few nights he had slept had been wreaked with nightmares for him, so he preferred staying awake and doing whatever his heart wished. He didn’t know what to do. It had never occurred to him that he would ever find himself in such a strange circumstance. He had mulled over several unpleasant truths, such as his own death and the deaths of his loved ones, and his body being plagued by an incurable sickness, but infidelity had never occurred to him, especially on the part of Padme, who to Obi-wan had been a highly virtuous woman.
Now, though the worst has indeed happened, his wife has been unfaithful.
He had given up seeking comfort in the toxic smoke long ago, but right this very moment, Obi-wan wanted nothing more than to fill his entire being with it. He wanted the peace that accompanied the poisonous, cloudy, wafting wisps, and so he lit a cigar and placed it between his lips. He closed his eyes as he inhaled and relished the similar pleasant burn in his throat, which he had all but forgotten.
So lost was he breathing in the toxic fumes that he barely registered any noise coming from the hallway, but when the unidentifiable noises transformed into a cacophony of unpleasant sounds in the dead hour, he felt himself harshly pulled away from the agreeable dull state and into the disagreeable consciousness. Slowly, he made his way to the door and stealthily opened it so as not to alert the one who was causing such commotion at such an ungodly hour.
His eyes widened as they beheld the person in the hallway. Shock paralyzed him to the spot as he saw his wife at the dead hour of the night, cloaking herself and making her way towards the main door. She pulled the hood over her face, hiding it as she stepped out into the dark, chilly night all by herself.
Instantly, Obi-wan knew who it was his wife was going to meet in such a clandestine manner. Something came to him—something firm and desperate. He put out his cigar, which he had just lit up in the ash tray, and searched his wardrobe for items that would properly conceal him. He settled for an ascot cap and a black woolen muffler. He then went out into the hallway, shrugged on his coat, and went out into the night, tailing after his wife.
It was time for him to finally see the truth with his own eyes.
There are some emotions that can never be expressed and can only be felt. After all, Obi-wan didn’t have any words at his disposal to describe the utterly gruesome, soul-rending agony that he felt as he stood, soaked to the bone in rain, seeing his wife passionately embrace another man.
He stood motionless in the darkness of the alleyway, spying on his wife, and couldn’t help scoffing internally at his ridiculous behavior. Tailing his wife, snooping and spying on her, he was behaving in an utterly juvenile manner, and surely Albert would frown at him if he were to ever find out about this, but Obi-wan was desperate. He felt derision bubbling inside of him at his behavior, which, as Albert would put it, was beneath his station, but he had wanted to confirm the truth with his own eyes.
And confirm he did as he saw Padme in the arms of that despicable Baron.
It was indescribable—the feeling that was weighing his body down as it slowly grew in strength. Soon, however, Obi-wan knew that it would blanket him in its swirling, bubbling darkness, and then Obi-wan would go under. It wasn’t the first time he had felt this unnamable feeling. The first time it had pricked at him was when he had looked at his father’s corpse in the casket at his wake when he had been just five. The next time it had slithered around him was when Heinrich had taken in his last, stuttered breath in his arms after being shot on the battlefield, and now as he saw Padme kiss another man, it was surrounding him and blanketing him.
It was all around him, and now it was suffocating him.
He was drowning in unnamable agony as he beheld his wife kissing another man.
Obi-wan could feel his eyes sting and burn as tears filled them, and he couldn’t help placing his hand on the brick wall beside him to steady himself. He desperately needed to hold on to something.
Padme was kissing the Baron with the same passion that she had once had for him in the early years of their courtship. It became clear to him in the way she embraced the other man and kissed him, out in the open and in the pouring rain, that it was not just a passing fancy.
It was torture.
Padme clawed at the other man as if disconnecting from him was an impossible feat. She clung to the Baron and kept their mouths entwined, unwilling to disconnect from the other and only doing so to heave in a few, shaky breaths.
Obi-wan’s body was shivering from the kiss of the chilly air on his wet skin, or maybe the unbearably hollow feeling that was bubbling within him. The rain had started to beat down on him hard, and he was completely drenched, but despite the discomfort of the cold, wet weather, despite the way his body was quaking and the hollow feeling that was taking grip of his senses, he couldn’t look away.
He knew he should look away, but some sadistic part within him held his head in an iron grip, and so Obi-wan looked.
He kept looking even as his vision got hazy, even as his eyes stung and hot tears, which mixed with the raindrops, trailed down his cheeks. He kept looking even as the hollowness within him kept growing, the numbness in him kept spreading, and the agony no longer as sharp or piercing turned into a dull ache. He was totally in the grips of that unnamable darkness and could feel its talons piercing through his heart. It was puzzling, this feeling, because it wasn’t like a sharp pain or a burn that would make anyone groan; no, it brought on that deep sense of an unsettling calm, the calm that Obi-wan had seen in the eyes of many men on the battlefield when hope would die in them. His eyes must’ve looked dead and lifeless too, to anyone who would set their eyes on him in that particular moment.
Only when his wife went with the Baron inside a seedy-looking place did Obi-wan finally turn away.
He walked back alone at the ungodly hour of the night, in the pouring rain, thinking about nothing. When he finally reached home, he sat by the unlit fireplace in his wet clothes, mindlessly staring at nothing. It was when the sun had finally greeted the world with its warm and soft rays that his entire being became so weary that he managed to get a few hours of fitful sleep.
However, surprisingly, his dreams were as empty as his current disposition, which was quite a respite.
Anakin
When his letter summoning Anakin had arrived he had been gobsmacked.
Why would that old man want to make acquaintance with Anakin of all people? especially given the rumors that were circulating about Anakin and his wife. He and Padme didn’t deliberately set out to embarrass the Count, but when Anakin had set his eyes upon her, clad in that magnificent light pink gown, he hadn’t been able to stop himself from asking her for a dance, and then when the music had started and they had looked into each other’s eyes, they had left the present world for another. It was a splendid moment; as their bodies had swayed to the pleasant melodies, they had felt so lost in each other and had somehow amidst the many swirling bodies, formed a little, lovely world of their own. Where there had been no one but them.
Two months later, he was still as besotted with Padme as when he had first seen her at Count Vronski’s ball. She had been wearing a dark navy blue gown, and her hair had been curled and arranged in a lovely but intricate manner. She had been all smiles as she had curtseyed and engaged in polite conversation with everyone. Anakin had felt smitten from the very first moment he had beheld her. He had felt captivated by her beauty, and when they had finally met and he had kissed the back of her hand, he had seen something in her hazel eyes, something he very well recognized: heat and desire. It had astonished him, seeing her eyes darken with want as they boldly met his; after all, during their conversation, he had learned that Padme was married and a mother to a son. He had instantly, after learning of her status, contented himself with his one-sided passions for her, but after meeting her eyes and seeing desire for him in them, he had felt a spark of hope.
And so he had decided that he would pursue her, and it had borne fruit. It had delighted him when his interest was returned with equal fervor. Padme, who at first had kept a friendly acquaintance, therefore had kept them at what was deemed an appropriate distance, had at last given in to what they both knew was intense love that had blossomed between them.
Everything between them was wonderful, save for the one thing that they both recognized as a big hurdle.
Obi-wan Kenobi.
Padme's husband (he hissed internally) and father of her child.
Anakin knew from the very beginning the muddied waters he was stepping into. He had willingly dived into this difficult situation, but one thing remained true: he loved Padme and would do anything for her. He was therefore willing to fight the entire world for her.
He would even kill for her.
And, so Anakin, dressed in his formal army attire head to toe, with his medals adorned as a visible representation of his rank, walked towards the place the letter had asked him to go to. He took out the letter that he had crushed into a ball and unfolded it. It was short and precise. Even as Anakin’s blood had boiled at reading the letter given the rather authoritative tone, he couldn’t stop himself from admiring the beautiful handwriting marked by its clean, narrow strokes and elegant loops.
To Baron Anakin Skywalker
It is of utmost importance that we meet, given the rather unpleasant situation that has arisen. I shall be expecting you at Vse Tvoi Druzya at around six o'clock in the evening.
Count Obi-wan Kanobi
He removed his cap as he entered a seedy bar just as a bell tinged overhead, announcing his arrival. He looked around the room, and finally his eyes landed on the blasted old man, seated at the farthest corner of the pub. Anakin turned his nose up at the run-down place. It was a ramshackle pub with dilapidated chairs and tables scattered around. The people about were clearly not upstanding individuals of society. The place therefore seemed like a great meeting place for the hooligans and ruffians and the lowest of the low members of society.
He kept his distance from the shabby and rowdy crowd mingling about him as alcohol sloshed from their mugs. Carefully, he made his way to the table at the end, where the old Count was seated, who somehow had not registered Anakin’s presence. The old man held a book in his hands and looked engrossed in his reading, which was remarkable given the noise in the pub.
Anakin couldn’t fathom the sudden increase in his pulse rate as he finally reached the table. When minutes passed and the old man didn’t stir, Anakin grew quite irritable, and he cleared his throat loudly for the other to hear. It was quite obvious that the insufferable old man was out to annoy him.
The old Count finally noticed him and placed his book down.
“Oh” Obi-wan nodded as he remained seated in his chair and impudently signaled with his hand for Anakin to take the seat opposite him. "I wasn’t expecting you to actually come, Baron Skywalker.”
It was insolent, the way the old Count was treating him.
No pleasantries were exchanged; the ruddy old man hadn’t even gotten up from his chair to properly greet him. It was clear what the old man was doing.
There was hostility written all over his face as he regarded Anakin.
"To what do I owe the pleasure? Count.” Anakin said derisively.
Anakin’s tone had its desired effect as Obi-wan’s face contorted with resentment.
The Count as Anakin remembered from their first, unamicable meeting, was not unpleasant to look at; rather, he was quite handsome. When Padme had told him that her husband was about a decade older than her, he had imagined an old, bald man with a protruding stomach, which was what men of that age usually looked like, but Obi-wan had nothing in common with the men of his age. He did have deep furrows running through his face, but he was strongly built with a full head of auburn hair. In fact, when Anakin met him, he had been astounded. A sliver of doubt had entered his mind when the cold Count had shaken his hand. Obi-wan was not an ugly old man that Padme could possibly have no desire for; he was a handsome, wealthy man with apparently a prolific army and medicine career. Uncertainty had crept into his mind, but Padme’s continued reassurances had calmed his troubled heart.
“I request that you stay away from my wife and the mother of my son.” Obi-wan said in a curt manner and without beating around the bush.
The manner in which Obi-wan had requested it made it abundantly clear that it was not a request. It was a threat.
Anakin, in following Obi-wan’s footsteps, didn’t stall either, as he replied vehemently, “I love Padme, and she loves me.”
Obi-wan’s lip twitched at Anakin’s words. His blue eyes narrowed into slits, and he looked like he was simmering with anger. Likewise, an answering rage swelled inside Anakin, who looked back at Obi-wan with his jaw clenched.
“You know nothing about love. If you have any sense left in you, put an end to this dangerous affair. It will have dire consequences for both of you.”
“I fear nothing.” Anakin bit out angrily, "And no one,” he stressed as he continued, "I am fully devoted to her as she is to me. Nothing would come between us.”
Obi-wan said nothing for some time, but his dark eyes showed clearly what he felt.
Anakin saw barely concealed fury in them and was surprised when suddenly an uneasy feeling made his chest tighten and his heart flutter. He, however, made sure that none of what he felt showed on his face.
“You are making a terrible mistake, young one.” Obi-wan warned.
“To love truly is not a mistake.” Anakin replied; it bothered him, however, since his voice didn’t sound as robust as it should. It quivered lightly at the end, which the Count seemed to have noticed as he leaned back into his chair. His face slightly turned up; he looked at Anakin with dark, beady eyes and said nothing.
The uncomfortable silence that filled the air between them was only growing the uneasiness in Anakin, which he couldn’t understand. A flush crept up his cheeks, a telltale sign of his nervous disposition, as he licked his dry lips.
“I –” Anakin jumped lightly at the sudden break in silence by the Count who continued, "Uh, we have a son, Ivan.” For the first time since the hostile meeting started, Anakin saw signs of sadness in Obi-wan’s face. “It would hurt him a lot.” The old man ended with a somber tone.
Anakin looked away from the old man and swallowed a lump in his throat.
He didn’t know what to say to that.
Padme and he were no fools; of course they had thought about Ivan. Padme had insisted on taking the child with them after the imminent separation; however, Anakin had been hesitant. After all, he knew what it felt like to be raised without a father. He didn’t want Ivan to experience the same void that Anakin had felt all of his life. This was the only part of the affair that somewhat pained him. He didn’t want to separate Obi-wan from his son; it just didn’t seem right, and there was no way could he ever fulfill Ivan’s father’s role. He also knew that there was a high chance that Ivan would resent Anakin for breaking up his family, but Anakin was willing to contend with all of this and more because he loved Padme and nothing else mattered.
Suddenly, the screech of the chair dragging against the floor resounded throughout the room. He looked up to see Obi-wan standing up and looking down at him.
“I shall take my leave. I hope you consider my words seriously.” Obi-wan said as he nodded and grabbed his book. He then placed some pennies on the table and left the pub. All the while, Anakin remained seated and kept looking at nothing in particular. Slowly, he brought his hand to his chest, and his brows furrowed as his heart continued to hammer loudly in his chest.
How peculiar…
What was this strange feeling—this strange, cloying uneasiness in his chest—that was making his heart race?
It wasn’t fear. Anakin knew what fear felt like.
He didn’t know what it was, but he did know that it had started from the moment he had set his eyes on the old Count. Earlier, it had been minuscule in its intensity, and he had forgotten it as his rage had taken hold of him, but when their eyes had met and he had been the subject of the Count’s heated gaze full of smoldering wrath, it had clawed its way inside and was still affecting him.
How peculiar..
He had expected for them to exchange blows at the end of the hostile meeting, but instead Obi-wan had only said a few words and departed. He just couldn’t understand the insufferable Count.
It was all just so peculiar..
Obi-wan
It had been intolerable, seeing that Baron, the man who he had seen his wife embrace and kiss before his eyes and who his wife had broken her marriage vows for. Obi-wan didn’t know how he had managed to curtail his anger that had mounted inside of him and that he had been enveloped by when he had set his eyes on the despicable man. All throughout their conversation, his body had quivered with bottled-up fury. His fists had clenched and unclenched repeatedly, and many a times he had stopped himself from simply snarling at the man. When the Baron had out rightly and unabashedly confessed his adulterous feelings for his wife, Obi-wan had felt something within him snap. He had wanted to go around the table and grab that despicable man by the throat. He had wanted to throttle him. All through his life, Obi-wan had prided himself on being a stoic man who never let his flighty emotions and erratic impulses take control of his bearings, but just a moment ago, his rage had overpowered him. If it hadn’t been for the people around them, Obi-wan would’ve caved to his boiling wrath and would’ve throttled the man with his bare hands.
There had been a moment, however, when the Baron had wavered slightly during his declaration of love at the very end of their conversation. Obi-wan had a keen eye and observed the way the Baron had fidgeted and flushed in his company. It had brought up a sadistic kind of pleasure in him when he had stayed tight-lipped and stared at the young man, who had, as a consequence, looked even more nervous and uneasy. He had rejoiced internally at the effect his silence had had on the man, but when he had brought up Ivan and seen the first inklings of guilt in the man, he had felt a tsunami of rage drown him. If Obi-wan had stayed a moment longer, he knew he would have given in to the thirst for blood that had been brewing in him ever since the bloody night of the ball. It upended his remaining slivers of sanity—the fact that Anakin knew that what he was doing would cause a family to be torn apart. It hurt him immensely that the blasted Baron knew that he was going to separate Obi-wan from Ivan, yet he would not put an end to this salacious affair, yet he would continue to court Obi-wan’s wife. It would’ve been better had Anakin been so malevolent to have had no guilt regarding the entire matter but to lower his head in remorse as Obi-wan talked about his son; that entire charade had been grossly unbearable. It became clear to Obi-wan that the Baron understood his immoral actions; he understood the consequences, yet he willingly wanted to continue his immoral actions. He was willingly, with full intention, carrying out the immoral action that would ultimately destroy Obi-wan’s life, and that made Obi-wan furious.
It would’ve been better if Anakin had been just a foolish young man who had given into his passions without putting much thought into it and understanding the consequences of his actions, but no, the Baron understood everything clearly. He was no foolish young man blinded by the throes of lust, which he had mistakenly interpreted as love.
He wanted Padme for himself, no matter the consequences. He didn’t care about the lives he was going to destroy. It didn’t matter to him that he was tearing a family apart and separating a boy from his father. He didn’t even care about the disrepute their affair would bring to Padme.
Nothing mattered; he only wanted to possess Padme for himself.
It was utterly diabolical.
What the Baron had proudly declared as love was not love. It was his wretched selfish desire, which he tried to paint as love.
Love was anything but selfish. It would willingly push itself in front to be speared and bled in place of the one it loved. It would die in place of the person it loved, and it would willingly tie a noose around itself before hurting those around him. It didn’t wish to possess anyone. It was freedom.
The Baron knew nothing of love.
How could he? When his soul was so foul.
And so Obi-wan had left the pub hastily, lest he do something he'd regret.
Even though his entire being wanted Anakin Skywalker’s blood, something in him always resisted giving in to his dark urges.
But god, did he feel tempted.
Padame
“Padme, please.”
Padme closed her eyes as she stood with her back to her husband, whom she would be parting ways with soon. It didn’t feel good to see Obi-wan so troubled. It had pained her when he had come to her room looking nothing like the put-together, polished, and impeccably groomed Count. His hair was in disarray, his clothes crumpled; he had appeared disheveled and had looked dejected. They hadn’t seen each other for two weeks, and Padme, after learning of Obi-wan and Anaknin’s meeting, hadn’t so much as dared to come face-to-face with him. She had avoided Obi-wan at all costs, partly because she was fearful of his angry response. And there was the guilt of betraying him that hung like an albatross around her neck. She hadn’t wanted for him to discover the truth in such a manner, especially not through Anakin, given his firey and unstable temperament.
It didn’t matter how the truth was unearthed because she knew that no matter how Obi-wan would’ve learned about it, he would still have been tremendously hurt.
And he was.
It had pierced her heart when Obi-wan had looked at her, with his face contorting in pain as if he were physically wounded, and he had told her that he knew and that he had met Anakin, who had admitted to his face that they were indeed involved and were having an affair. Shame had made her head droop and turn her eyes away. He had through clenched teeth, as if it were grueling to let those words out, asked whether she loved the Baron, and Padme had clutched her frock tightly, too tightly as she had uttered a yes.
Padme wasn’t some evil witch who had sought to hurt her husband. When Obi-wan had asked to marry her, she had been smitten with the man. She had thought that she could love no other but oh, how wrong she had been.
Anakin was a storm in her peaceful abode, which she had never predicted.
Padme had prided herself on being a reasonable and virtuous woman her whole life, but when Anakin had looked at her with his blue eyes at Count Vronski’s ball, which had darkened and at the same time come alight upon seeing her, she had felt mesmerized. His pouty and haughty smirks and his playful and flirtatious demeanor had charmed her. She had thought of him as simply an uncaring, passionate youth and had enjoyed his attention, but that was it. After all, she was a wife and a mother, but Anakin had continued their correspondence despite knowing of her status. He had continually perused her; she had been hesitant and had wanted it to stay a friendship between them, but it had disturbed her how even after the Baron would leave, she would keep recalling his handsome face. It had troubled her that when he would sit beside her and kiss the back of her hand, she would feel a flutter down there, where she shouldn’t. And that arousal would quicken her pulse and fan the flames of the forbidden burning desire that she had tried so hard to suppress.
One day, however, when Anakin had knelt down on his knees, after she had accidently dropped her handkerchief and had looked at her with heat in his eyes; instead of picking up the handkerchief he had slid his hands inside her frock and she hadn’t stopped him. He had removed her shoe and had cradled her socked foot. Slowly he had bent his head and removed her sock. She had felt her rationality screech at her that she should stop the youth but her heart didn’t let her, it was utterly in the grips of the Baron she discovered. And, so Anakin had kissed her foot and that was when she knew, she was hopelessly in love with him.
It hadn’t pleased her; she hadn’t rejoiced at the fact that she had fallen so hopelessly in love with a man other than her husband. After all, Obi-wan had truly been a wonderful husband. Their life together with their child had been peaceful and pleasant, but her treacherous heart didn’t desire peace. It desired lightening. It desired to be struck and upended. It desired to be burned and pushed off a cliff. It desired danger, which, though terrifying, brought with it a certain newness that made it curious.
Padme knew that Obi-wan loved her and would do whatever it would take to keep her safe and happy, but Anakin, yearned for her. Anakin’s eyes had an intense longing for her; they burned for her. They desired nothing but her, and they wished to possess her, and she wanted to be owned.
If Padme had done to Anakin what she had done to Obi-wan, Anakin would’ve killed the other man, and maybe even killed her and then taken his own life. His love for her ran that deep.
“Padme..”
Padme turned and looked at the Count who looked like he was disintegrating right before her eyes.
He looked frail, like he would shatter into a million pieces at any moment. His eyes glistened with unshed tears, a shimmering pool of his grief. Padme felt a twinge of pain at the sight that her husband made. He was no weak man; after all, he had fought many battles for the king and country and had seen harrowing things, but as he stood with his shoulders drooped and the corners of his lips pulled down, he looked like he would break any minute.
“Think of Ivan.” His voice had dropped an octave and was gritty as he continued, “Think about our family. It would be so hard on him.”
Padme could feel her own eyes stinging and tearing up at the mention of their son.
Of course, she had thought about Ivan. She and Anakin had discussed the matter. It had been the first time Padme had seen Anakin look anxious. He hadn’t looked into her eyes when she stated that Ivan would join them. Ivan would not be able to survive without her. She hadn’t left his side since the day he was born. There was no other choice. Ivan would leave with her, and that would be non-negotiable.
“Ivan will leave with me.” Padme said, her voice resolute as she looked back at Obi-wan, whose face crumbled at once upon hearing those words.
“Padme, don’t do this. I beg you.” He looked utterly distraught as he pleaded with her.
“I’m sorry, Obi-wan.” Her voice cracked as she continued, “I didn’t wish for this to happen, but I love him. I don’t think I would be able to live without him.”
At those words, Obi-wan did shatter.
A lone tear finally trickled down his cheek.
Padme’s eyes widened at the sight. Obi-wan had never shed a tear before or in all of their years together, especially in front of her. He had always appeared stoic and had been a beacon of strength no matter how distressing a situation was, but now he looked broken.
It didn’t bring her any pleasure to see his broken state.
When more hot tears trickled down his cheeks, she felt guilt clawing inside her bosom, rending it with what she knew would be a painful burden she would carry with her all her life, and immediately turned her eyes away.
“I’m sorry.” She said.
She couldn’t bear it anymore, and clutching her skirt, she fled the room.
It was too suffocating—Obi-wan's grief, her guilt. They were heavy chains that were bearing down on her soul and which she desperately wanted to break. She knew only love could give her freedom. She knew that only Anakin could save her from these clanking, heavy chains that weighed her down. Anakin was her freedom; he was her happiness, her everything.
Everything.
Obi-wan
Obi-wan had thought that he had known grief before; oh, how wrong he had been.
After Padme had announced that she would be filing for divorce and taking custody of Ivan, he hadn’t known how to respond. Anger, which had been innate, which had bubbled and erupted out of him unannounced and which he had felt tearing at his flesh on the inside many a times since that night of the ball, hadn’t shown up; instead, grief had taken residence in his being and had spread out to the very tips of his fingers and toes. He had felt it burn behind his eyes; he had felt it sting them, and his eyes had then teared up. The memory of him crying before his estranged wife still made him cringe with shame. Mayhaps this was why Padme had left him: Obi-wan was weak. After all, only a weak man would cry before a woman, or any man for that matter.
Obi-wan, who had thought of himself as a strong, stoic man who not only possessed the physical prowess but also the mental fortitude, had pathetically cried in front of his wife. He hadn’t been able to stop himself, though, especially when Padme had talked about taking Ivan and then had proclaimed her love for that despicable man before him.
He had wanted the mind-numbing rage to once again consume him, but that didn’t happen. Rage, in fact, was nowhere to be found. It was puzzling that his anger had somehow become his solace, but of course he couldn’t even have that. He had thought of stopping her, but what would that have done? If he had made her stay with him despite her wishes, then she would have only resented him in turn. The truth was that she didn’t love him anymore and that a loveless union, which would have only been a breeding ground for festering resentment, was not what Obi-wan wanted.
He had thought that maybe he should’ve struck her, and he would’ve done that had there been any fury boiling in him, but surprisingly, there had been none. A resignation had appeared in him instead. Despite what he would’ve done, whether it was striking her, lashing out at her, wounding her with words, or abusing her, nothing would have come out of it but resentment and hatred.
Thus, Obi-wan decided to let her go.
He let her tear their family apart, and resigned chose to do nothing.
Because he knew it was hopeless.
And so he found himself sliding into suffocating grief that filled him to the bone. It blotted out any speck of light and happiness from his life.
Padme left with Ivan, and days went by with Obi-wan becoming a specter.
He felt no spark of life in him as he went about his day. Time didn’t matter, as he did his work. He could already anticipate the mockery that would be made of him and chose self-isolation as a means to preserve some of his dignity. He did his work, which was a good enough distraction because people who were on the brink of death, who were poor, and who were in grievous pain from sickness didn’t care at all about anything, and so very little about gossip about someone’s life.
He stopped taking any social calls and didn’t attend any social events. Aside from work, he did nothing.
Meanwhile, in the days that followed Padme's leaving, he found that no emotions colored his being. His soul took on a shade of grey where no green of envy, no yellow of joy, no crimson of rage, and no blue of peace colored it. Blackness, however, did creep at its corners, and that was when he would grab a bottle. He would consume alcohol to the point that his mind would be so dull that no thought would trickle into it. With his mind finally empty, he would lie down in bed, and if he were lucky, he would fall asleep and have no dreams.
The worst were moments when, out of the blue, he would recall their pleasant memories, which would then shock him. He would be getting ready for the day, and Padme’s face with her eyes crinkling would flash before his eyes; her deft hands would work on his collar; a soft kiss would be laid on his lips; and then he would jump, as Albert’s voice would snap him out of his stupor. He would be reading his books and then hands would wrap around him from the back as a sweet voice would try and tempt him to come to bed and Obi-wan would close his eyes with a sharp stabbing pain shooting through him.
Those moments of pure ecstasy when they had entwined their hands for the first time, kissed one another with a desperation of wanting to melt into one, and on the night of their marriage, when they had made love, they plagued him. Those moments of pure ecstasy were morphing into something ugly, something dreadful. when at first feelings of love, joy had risen within him, now only pain pierced them.
But what was he supposed to do? He was utterly, hopelessly, powerless.
Ivan.
Gosh, he really missed his son. In the dead hour of the night, with everyone asleep, Obi-wan would finally allow himself to crumble. He would clutch the picture of his son and recall puzzlement on Ivan’s face upon seeing his father look terribly sad as he bid him goodbye. “I’ll be back soon Pa! Bye” the innocent and naïve boy had said, not knowing that they would only ever meet again on a few occasions. Padme had looked sorrowful but determined, her face hidden by the hat, she had a tight hold on Ivan’s hand. She hadn’t bid him goodbye but had only given him a curt nod.
It was when he would think about Ivan that the first sparks of anger would rile him up. It would be then that his mind would conjure up vivid imagery of him killing the Baron in several ways.
No one would fault a man for slaughtering the one who tore his wife and son away from him. No one would fault a man if, blinded by rage, he murdered the one who slept with his wife.
No one would fault Obi-wan, if he grabbed a gun and shot that arrogant Baron. He knew that. In fact, people would respect him more, even though he would be punished by the law of the land for his crime. In society’s eyes, though, he would’ve redeemed his reputation.
However, something in Obi-wan was not allowing it.
He didn’t know what to call it. His conscience? His morality? Damn those.
His entire conscience was thirsting for Baron’s blood. His mind was justifying his malicious desire and didn’t see it as being per se immoral.
Despite his various dark reflections, he just couldn’t do it.
Mayhaps it was the fact that he didn’t want Ivan to suffer even more because of him knowing very well that Ivan would also get punished alongside him for his crime. His son would forever be referred to as a murderer’s spawn, and people would become weary of associating with him because of Obi-wan, which would then cause Ivan to resent him. And he didn’t want his son to face any of it.
That must be it.
Padme
Padme had known when she and Anakin had attended Count Vladimir’s ball that they were putting a lot at stake. It would be a public proclamation of what had been rampant gossip for months. Their appearance together in front of society would confirm their entanglement to everyone. Padme had been hesitant, especially because of the legal repercussions given the fact that she was still legally Obi-wan’s wife but Anakin, the ever-sharp one, had prompted her to hasten filing for divorce. Just a few days before the ball, she had filed for divorce, and then they had together gone to the ball in order to proclaim their love before the entire world.
However, the ball had proven to be a nightmare for her.
It still made her stomach churn, recalling people’s faces. The moment they had entered the ballroom with Padme’s hands around Anakin’s bicep, the entire ballroom had gone quiet for a grueling moment. Her stomach had plummeted when they were greeted by only shocked faces, which swiftly changed into disapproving ones. She had tightened her grip around Anakin, who, usually the bold and unshaken one, had looked equally perturbed. She caught his eyes, and Anakin, bless him, upon registering her terribly shaken state, had given her a reassuring smile. She had smiled back at him and rolled her shoulders back in preparation of what she knew would be a draining and tiresome night.
Oh, how right she had been, but it had been worse than just tiresome; the night had been, simply put, just horrid.
Padme and Anakin, after entering the ballroom, had temporarily separated. She had glided towards where the womenfolk had gathered, and Anakin had gone to greet the gents. Padme could sense the moment she had come close to the gathering of so-called high-society women that she wasn’t welcome. She had, however, gone to greet them, and aside from curt nods and a rudely brief exchange of pleasantries, she had been forced to spend the entirety of the night alone.
It had been the most humiliating and degrading experience of her life.
The moment she would try to engage in a conversation, the women would leave in a haste, as if a moment or more in her company would give them plague. Not to mention the utterly disapproving looks that were cast in her direction. Not a single gentleman had approached her for a dance, either. It had been so humiliating that her eyes had started to sting with tears by the end of the night, yet she knew that she couldn’t let a tear fall because if she did, that would make her appear weak, and Padme was anything but weak.
It had been infuriating, however, when Anakin was treated better by the people than her. Questionable and disapproving looks were, of course, cast in his direction, but people had continued to greet him and engage in conversation with him. He had even asked a few ladies to the dance, who had much to her chagrin, agreed and danced with him. When, at last, Anakin had come to her to ask her for a dance, his face had appeared worried. She knew that she had looked flushed red with anger, but could anyone really fault her for her reaction? In society’s eyes, if Anakin and Padme had committed the same sin, then how was it just to treat her worse than him and give her harsher punishment compared to him just because she had the misfortune of being born a woman?
Padme had insisted that they leave early after their dance, and Anakin had agreed.
It was a couple of days ago, but her blood was still bubbling with fury from the utter humiliation she had been subjected to.
Was what she had done really that grave a sin? Was loving someone earnestly with every fiber of one’s being really that heinous and worthy of social alienation? Did she deserve to be made into an outcast for simply falling in love?
It was all utterly ridiculous.
However, Padme knew that society would never bend for her, and this would become her life. The men and women alike of society would forever shun her for daring to love another man who hadn’t been her husband because they would never be able to gaze deep within her heart. For if they could see, they would never condemn her for her actions. They would understand that Anakin was her one true love and that she had made a grave mistake by marrying Obi-wan. Nevertheless, that could never happen, and society would forever see her as a villain. And, so, the only option left for them would be to leave the city, and hopefully once they have settled somewhere far, where no one will be able to recognize them, they can hope to live the life they have always desired.
Padme smiled wistfully at that thought.
It made her happy.
Hopefully, the gods would finally listen to her prayers and grant her wishes.
Anakin
“What you’re doing, Annie, is not only outrageous but also a condemnable sin in God’s eyes!” His mother ended and immediately had a wild coughing fit while she held a handkerchief to her mouth.
Everything forgotten Anakin was at his mother’s side at once and started rubbing her back in a soothing manner. “Ma, haven’t you had your medicine?”
His mother took a shaky inhale, and Anakin’s heart gave a painful squeeze when he saw the red blood dotting the white handkerchief. “ uhhh I-I did but you— ” Before she could manage to get another word out, though, she started coughing violently again.
This wasn’t right. His mother had had a persistent cough for months now, but it had never been this severe before. The occasional blood had shocked them, but the doctor had reassured them that if she took her medicine, she should be well in a couple of weeks. A couple of weeks have elapsed and her condition has not gotten any better, and today it was especially bad.
“Ma” Anakin made her sit down on the couch with him and kept rubbing her back in soothing circles. “I think we should go to the doctor.”
His mother’s forehead was wet with perspiration, and she looked especially sickly. “Let’s go to Dr. Petrov right now; he’ll give you a new medicine that will surely help.”
His mother shook her head and started coughing again. When her violent cough ceased for a brief moment, she finally spilled some words out: “No..ah I’ll take the sleeping d-draught today. Let’s go tomorrow, but you." She abruptly took hold of his hand in a tight grasp and locked eyes with him as she continued, “Stop this abominable affair. I beg you. Count Obi-wan is greatly respected and admired in society. Do not partake in this, Annie. I beg you, my son.” She said in a low, hoarse voice.
“Ma, please rest. You’re especially unwell today.” Anakin replied, wiping the dots of perspiration that had collected on his mother’s forehead. “You can continue to reprimand me tomorrow.”
Just as Anakin was about to call on Mikhail, his servant, however, his mother inhaled sharply and gasped loudly for air. Her eyes bulged out, and her lips turned blue. Her grasp on his hand grew painfully tight, and she looked at him with fear written all over her face. His mother’s breathing became noisy, fast, and shallow, and Anakin knew at once that something was terribly wrong.
He placed his bare head on her forehead and found her skin to be cold and clammy. Panic surged in him, and he yelled for Mikhail, who came running. At this point, his mother was experiencing another bout of painful and violent coughing.
“Bring out the carriage this instant. We have to go to Dr. Petrov’s. Hurry!” He yelled at Mikhail, who immediately scurried away. His mother pulled away her handkerchief from her mouth, and overwhelming fear seized him when he saw that her entire white handkerchief had turned crimson and so much blood had come out of her mouth.
Her mother looked faint now and seemed to be on the precipice of losing consciousness.
“Ma, please stay away. Please.” He said softly in a desperate tone as he kissed her cold and wet forehead. “You’ll be fine; don’t worry.”
“It’s ready, sir.” Mikhail said in an urgent tone, and Anakin nodded his head. He asked the servant to help his mother up and carefully take her to the carriage with him.
Fear was escalating within him. The thought of losing his mother terrified him. All his life, he had had no one but his mother. She was his only family, and if he were to lose her, he didn’t know if he would be able to continue living. The thought of any harm befalling her had always had the hair on the back of his neck standing up, and now if she were to die, he would surely go mad with grief.
God, he wouldn’t be able to bear it.
He just wouldn’t.
Anakin, who had always regarded himself as an atheist, found his lips moving in silent prayer. He didn’t care who he was praying to; it could be the Christian god or the pagan gods. It didn’t matter to him; what mattered was that some god out there would hear his desperate prayers and answer them.
“I’m sorry, Baron Skywalker. I cannot do anything.” Dr. Petrov said as he regarded Anakin with sympathetic eyes. Dr. Petrov had been their physician since Anakin was a child. His aged face with deep furrows and sagging skin usually brought Anakin warmth, mainly because no matter what had happened before, Dr. Petrov had always managed to provide them relief. However, at present, his resigned bearing and pity-ridden eyes were tormenting Anakin.
“I’m sure, Dr., there must be something that can be done. Please.” Anakin said in a desperate tone.
“I’m sorry, Baron Skywalker. Your mother is showing signs of consumption. She has an abnormal and excessive collection of fluid in her lungs and needs to be operated on urgently. And I’m not equipped to perform such surgery. So, at present, I really cannot do anything.” Dr. Petrov said seemingly equally upset with the situation as well.
“Is there anyone then who can perform the surgery?” Anakin asked desperately.
Dr. Petrov hesitated briefly as uncertainty flitted across his wizened face, and then at last he spoke, “There is but one in the area who can perform this surgery. He also happens to be the only one who has successfully treated quite a few cases of consumption in the area.”
“Who is it?”
“It is Count Obi-wan Kenobi sir.”
Anakin gawked at the doctor in disbelief.
It cannot be.
“What- who?” Anakin asked again, incredulously and stupidly, praying that he had wrongly heard the name.
“Count Obi-wan Kenobi sir, before going to war, he had gone to America, where he had learned about the cure. He has been writing papers on it since. I suggest you make haste and go to him at once.”
Anakin blinked rapidly, trying to clear the fog of disbelief that had clouded him. His mind struggled to reconcile with reality, and his hand flew to his face, covering his mouth in astonishment.
“Baron Skywalker? Is everything alright?”
“Is there anyone else who can perform this surgery in the area?” Anakin asked, hoping that there indeed was someone other than the Count whose wife he was having an affair with and who hated him to the very core.
“No, only Count Obi-wan specializes in this surgery. Now you must make haste, Baron. Don’t dawdle for a moment!”
Anakin nodded and left Dr. Petrov’s clinic. He asked Mikhail to take his mother to the carriage; in the meantime, he dawdled because he didn’t know what else to do.
The thought of losing his mother was unbearable, and he looked up, his eyes darkening with resolve. It didn’t matter what he had to do. He would do anything to save his mother, even if it necessitated prostrating himself before the man who was his sworn enemy.
He would do anything.
He could only hope, however, that the Count would find an iota of mercy in his heart for Anakin and his mother. He hoped that the old man would have it in his heart to set their enmity aside for his mother and, in doing so, would treat Anakin’s mother.
But, as they say, hope is a dangerous thing.
It had started to rain heavily when they reached Count Obi-wan’s house. It was uncanny that the night was as tumultuous as his heart at that moment. The dark, stormy clouds, heavy with water, were thundering and roaring with fury. They pierced the ink-black sky periodically with a flash of lightening, and sheets of rain gushed down at the world at large.
Anakin took in a long inhale and steeled himself for what was to come, and stepped out of the carriage. He ordered Mikhail to take care of his mother, who was gasping and delirious. A sharp pain shot through him as he looked at his mother, who was clearly in an exorbitant amount of pain.
At once, he turned towards the Count’s house with urgency and demanded that the guard, who was taking cover from the rain at the guard house, let him inside. The guard recognized him and let him in. Uncaring, Anakin ran through the heavy rain and pounded on the door to the house.
His loud, unceasing, and jarring knocks successfully woke the sleeping staff inside and announced his unbidden arrival.
“For the love of God! Who is—” Albert, who had clearly just gotten out of bed and was in his night robes, looked utterly irritated and angry as he opened the door. At once, the old head butler stopped in his tracks, and his mouth hung open. He gawked at Anakin and looked him up and down, his eyes wide with surprise and puzzlement.
“Baron Skywalker?!” He exclaimed and continued, “What might be the purpose of your visit at such an ungodly hour?!”
Not sparing even a single moment, Anakin demanded to see the Count. Albert, whose eyebrows had very nearly reached his hairline from his astonishment, blinked rapidly.
“I think it prudent that you visit at a much more appropriate hour, Baron Skywalker.” Albert said in a reprimanding tone and continued, “I’m sure whatever it is that you wish to discuss with the Count can wai—”
“No!” Anakin exclaimed, and unceasing, desperate pleas were at the very tip of his tongue when suddenly the man in question appeared behind the old butler.
“Whatever in God's name is !— ” Count Obi-wan’s angry and thundering tirade at once stopped, with several emotions flitting across Count’s face upon seeing Anakin: shock, puzzlement, intrigue, and lastly, fury, which seemed to have taken a permanent residence in the form of an angry scowl on his face.
“What are you doing here?” Count asked in a severe tone, with every syllable coming out slow and emphasized through his clenched teeth, and laced with his simmering anger. His eyes dark, he glowered at Anakin, who at once felt most of his hope dashed, but he couldn’t give up just yet, no matter what.
“Count-” Surprised to find himself breathless, he drew in a gulp of much-needed air in order to stop his lungs from burning and continued, “ I-I need— ” before he could finish however, the Count interrupted in a sharp and gravelly voice, “ Leave at once! or what will happen henceforth will not be pleasant.” The Count threatened.
Anakin knew then, as he took in the Count’s clenched fists at his side, his bared teeth, and his tense body on the precipice of violence, that words would not have any effect on the man. The hatred for Anakin was so explicit in the Count’s eyes, which had become two angry black points, and Anakin knew he had to do something very drastic and extreme.
And so, his knees buckled, and he hit the ground before the two men.
Their eyes then instantly widened in response to his unexpected action, and they gawked at him.
Anakin felt his eyes sting and tears prick them. He took a shaky breath in as warm tears trailed down his cheeks, mixing in with the cold drops of rain resting on his face. “P-please, C-Count. I beg you.” He pleaded in a quivering voice. “M-My mother— s-she is very ill.” Anakin cursed when words spilled out of him in a disjointed manner.
Count Obi-wan’s face slackened at his jumbled mess of words, and no longer in the grips of surprise, his mouth settled into a firm line. He regarded Anakin with a grim look and remained mute.
“She has consumption.” Anakin managed to say it at last in somewhat of a clearer manner, and finally the Count titled his head up a little as understanding dawned on him.
“Please. I-I s-she’s doing very poorly right now. Dr. Petrov said she needs to be operated on urgently, and only you can perform this specific surgery. I beg you, please save my mother, Count.” And then, sobbing, he bowed his head to the floor and prostrated himself before his enemy. The cold, wet floor touched the warm skin of his forehead, and his body started shaking with the force of his wailing. “I’ll do whatever you want; just please save my mother.” He gasped out, his throat constricting, it became hard for him to breathe.
“Don’t promise what you can’t deliver, Baron.” The Count said sternly, and Anakin squeezed his eyes tightly, steeling himself for what would be a clear dismissal of his request. However, the next few words out of the Count stunned him.
“Where is she?” The Count asked.
Anakin’s eyes snapped open and widened as hope bloomed in his chest. He slowly, in a state of utter disbelief, lifted his head up. His blurred eyes locked with dark ones, which looked much softer and absent of the burning hostility that had glistened through them a moment prior.
“O-Outside, in the carriage.” He managed through his constricting throat and swallowed when the Count nodded his head.
“Alright. Lead me to her and Albert; prepare my carriage. We will be leaving for the hospital at once.” Count finished and stepped through the heavy mahogany doors. Anakin, still stupefied by the Count’s unexpected words, remained on his knees. He looked up at the Count who was looking down at him with his contempt for Anakin still emanating from him. Anakin, on the other hand, felt his heart skip a beat and flushed. “At once Baron.” The Count commanded testily, and Anakin instantly jumped to his feet, drooping his head from embarrassment. “ I’m s-sorry” He stuttered and started striding towards his carriage, with the Count following him.
His heartbeat skyrocketed once he reached his carriage and asked Mikhail to open the door. His mother, delirious, was gasping and groaning in pain. He swiftly turned towards the Count, who hurriedly pushed past him to observe his mother.
The Count then turned and regarded him with a grave look on his face. “We must hurry. Take her to Alexander Hospital immediately. Hurry. I’ll be there as soon as possible, and until then, my staff will stabilize her and prepare her for the operation. Just say that Count Obi-wan is on his way and that her fluid is to be drained. My staff will understand and manage everything until I arrive. Go, now!”
Anakin nodded and immediately entered the carriage. He grasped his mother’s weak and clammy hand and ordered Mikhail to start the carriage. He couldn’t help looking behind at the Count though, and was pleased to discover the older man running towards his house.
It had all still felt like a dream.
His mortal enemy, whom Anakin had despised from the very fiber of his being and who Anakin knew despised him equally, had not turned him away; instead, he had decided to help Anakin, and that flooded Anakin’s entire being with cold and piercing shame.
Shame clawed at his heart; it scorched his skin, turning it red, and it akin to a hard knot constricted his throat.
The man whose wife Anakin had wooed, the man whose family Anakin had torn apart, and the man whose life Anakin had destroyed was the one helping him.
And Anakin, for the very first time since his illicit affair began, felt mind gripping and soul crushing shame upend him.
He felt horrible.
For the very first time in his life, he felt disgusted with himself.
It had been three hours of pure agony. First, his mother had been wheeled into a room (which he later learned was an operating room) where he wasn’t allowed to go, and then Count Obi-wan had shown up about thirty minutes after his mother had been wheeled inside. The old man had looked like he was in great urgency and hadn’t spared a glance in Anakin’s direction. The operation had lasted for two and a half hours, and every second of those hours had caused him extreme anguish.
When finally, the old man came out of the room, he approached Anakin with a grim look on his face, and immediately his heart sank. Anakin braved himself for the dreadful news; however, to his utter astonishment and immense relief, fortune had favored him instead.
“She’s stable and no longer in a critical state.” Anakin released a heavy breath that he didn’t know he had been holding at the words that came out of the Count’s mouth. “However, it is of utmost importance that we keep monitoring her vitals throughout the night. Currently, she’s unconscious because of the effect of anesthesia, but don’t worry; she’ll be awake soon. We do have to keep her hospitalized for a few more days. Count Obi-wan ended, and at once, Anakin wanted to drop to his knees again and kiss the old man’s feet in gratitude. He was so overcome with insurmountable joy and thankfulness that he wanted to lay kisses on Count’s miraculous hands.
His utter gratitude must’ve shown through his bearing for the Count eyes, which had been calm a moment prior turned stormy and dark. It still, however, did not deter Anakin from showing his thankfulness. He grabbed the Count’s hands unexpectedly and ignored the old man’s shock at the surprising gesture, and said in a soft and deeply thankful voice, “I’m eternally grateful for what you’ve done for my mother. Thank you.”
The Count, whose shock had abated, regarded him with his lips pressed in a tight line and his jaw clenched. Anakin hesitated after taking in the Count’s growing anger but then at last spoke again, “I do not know if I would ever be able to repay you for what you have done despite”, He stopped and swallowed nervously. “Despite all that has come to pass bet—”
Before he could complete his sentence, however, something very jarring and unexpected happened. Anakin found himself pushed against the wall with a strong hand circling his neck. His wide eyes took in the thunderous rage contorting the Count’s face, who had his teeth bared. All decency, proper etiquette, and stoic demeanor that Anakin had recognized as synonymous with the old man had vanished, and in its place, passions had possessed the Count instead. The Count looked wild with fury, and Anakin felt his heart squeeze painfully inside his ribcage from the climbing fear.
“How dare you?!” The Count tightened his hold around his neck, and Anakin squeezed his eyes shut tightly when his throat constricted painfully under the force. “Do you really think that I did it for you?! You, a disgustingly depraved man! who tore my family apart and took my son away from me!” Small, ragged gasps escaped his throat as he tried to pry the Count’s fingers away, but the Count mercilessly continued to squeeze, making his lungs ache. The Count’s sharp voice, raw with anger, continued, “If it were you in her place, I would’ve left you for dead, but it was not you; it was your mother, and why should she pay for your sins?” Anakin’s eyes pricked with tears at the stinging words. He tried gasping for air, and a painful whine spilled from his lips. Just when his vision had started to darken and his mind had grown hazy, the Count released his painful hold around his neck abruptly.
“I did you no favor, Baron. Your type only deserves the worst form of retribution. God has a pit of hellfire for the likes of you, where you shall burn for eternity.”
Anakin, who had sagged against the wall meekly and was drawing in gulps of air to fill his burning lungs, said nothing. After all, the Count was right.
“In order to make the rest of your mother’s days easier, I request that you keep your distance from me.” With this, the Count angrily marched away.
And Anakin finally let the tears stinging his eyes spill and slide down his cheeks.
The Count was right. He didn’t have to do what he had done. The old man had every reason to refuse Anakin; after all, he had destroyed the Count’s life. He had brought shame upon the man’s name, had wooed his wife away, had broken his family apart, and had ripped his only son away, and yet, when Anakin had shown up at his door, begging for his mother’s life, the Count, who had every reason to refuse him, hadn’t refused him. Instead, the virtuous man had saved her life.
And that filled Anakin’s entire being with gut-wrenching shame.
Chapter 2: Amare aliquem non est iniuria
Notes:
Amare aliquem non est iniuria:- Loving someone is not wrong.
Chapter Text
Anakin
His mother had stayed in the hospital for a week and throughout it all Anakin experienced increasing pangs of guilt which had mounted in intensity and severity so much so that by the end of the stay he was physically exhausted.
First his mother who had woken up after two days (which had terrified Anakin for he had expected her to wake up on the very night of the surgery) after learning about the entire situation had been enraged. She had demanded Anakin to at once apologize to the kind Count and put an immediate stop to his illicit affair. Anakin shamefaced, had remained silent throughout her entire diatribe.
Secondly, Anakin was forced to witness Count’s generosity up close which had twisted his stomach in knots. He had kept his distance from the Count of course, but furtively he’d the doctor in his element. And, to his astonishment, discovered that the Count was a remarkable man.
From a corner and far away from Count’s sight he’d see the man carrying wounded patients, sometimes in his own arms towards the stroller and wheeling them into the operation theatre. He saw the man always in a state of urgency, tending to as many patients as possible, free of charge (which had shocked Anakin when he had asked about the fees). Count’s charitable act of providing his services for free, gratis had shaken Anakin to the very core. He was tending to the poor, the destitute, the low class who were considered equal to pests by the upper class, aristocratic society.
Simply put, Anakin finally learned why Count Obi-wan Kenobi was so revered by the world and why ever since he had stepped into the society with Padme, he felt like he was being shunned by the people. On the night of the ball when Anakin and Padme had dared to make public their entanglement, he had been subject to bitter hostility. He hadn’t been treated as poorly as Padme, nonetheless glares, mockery, sharp jibes had all been directed towards him by the people who were present. However, he hadn’t let any of those things diminish his determination to make Padme his.
However, now, utterly guilt ridden he was questioning his involvement with her.
People at the hospital had also treated Anakin, much like the people at the ball and unlike, the upper class they didn’t try to hide their contempt, instead made their scorn for him very obvious. The staff and the patients, avoided any conversation with him and mostly, Anakin spent his time with his mother or alone or with his eyes furtively following the Count.
It was bewildering to him that Padme left a man like the Count for Anakin. Not only was the Count easy on the eyes, brave, strong but he was also a sensible, generous and charitable man. He had everything that a woman desired in a man, the wealth, the reputation, a handsome face, strong built and moreover a warm, compassionate heart.
Why did Padme leave the Count? What was there in Anakin, that wasn’t there in her estranged husband? Anakin in fact, after the entire debacle arrived at a conclusion that even he wouldn’t be able to do what Obi-wan had done for him had their positions been reversed. Anakin would’ve rather killed the man, had the Count taken Padme away from him. He would not have helped the Count at all. Therefore, it was clear that Count was a better man. He had saved Anakin’s mother when instead society would’ve respected the man more had he left Anakin for dead.
Anakin, hence at the end of the hospital stay had felt utterly somber.
Throughout his stay he had mulled over the entire situation and had arrived at a frightening conclusion. The conclusion which would prove to be very unsavory and unpalatable, especially for Padme. However, he knew that he must confront her and try and remedy all that he had erred.
Hopefully, this time he was making the right decision.
Hopefully.
Padme
Something was amiss.
Ever since Anakin’s mother had fallen ill from consumption and had after her treatment come back from hospital Anakin was avoiding her. They had only exchanged a few letters since his mother’s hospitalization and every time Padme had insisted on coming to meet him and his mother, Anakin had replied with an explicit no. He had said that his mother was not fit for visitors but Padme could read between the lines and knew that Anakin’s mother found her utterly disagreeable. There was a reason why Anakin had not invited her to his house even after their coming out to the society.
Not to mention, her former husband was the one doing her treatment. It was in Obi-wan’s hospital that she had been admitted to. When Padme had learned through Anakin’s letter that he had gone to Obi-wan for help for he was the only one who could treat his mother, Padme had at that point felt her heart thump in her chest and her stomach plummet. It had been truly astonishing that Obi-wan had not only helped Anakin’s mother but also as per Anakin’s letter had kept their enmity aside and treated the Baron somewhat respectfully.
Her suspicion however did arise because of Anakin’s rather careful wording in his letters, after all, in his letters there were instances where Anakin actually appeared not only grateful but daresay, even reverent of her former husband which wasn’t unexpected, after all Obi-wan had saved his mother. However, in Padme’s eyes her estranged husband had not done a noble deed but something he was duty bound to do.
Her husband wasn’t some noble and virtuous man for doing what he ought to do but Anakin in his gratitude must be feeling stirrings of guilt. Therefore, it was Padme’s duty to uncover his eyes and to reveal this truth to him.
Everyone saw Obi-wan as a highly esteemed nobleman, a doctor, a former army officer and presently a philanthropist but Padme knew what he truly was when he would shed the layers of all those titles upon coming home. He was a man quick to anger, a deeply selfish man who had abandoned his family to go fight an utterly useless war that had only resulted in carnage, a man of firm convictions who despised being challenged and most of all a pompous man whose standards one could never meet. All her life Padme felt insufficient around Obi-wan. Whenever she would join a discourse, he would always wave away her inputs snidely as if Padme were a mere fool and an illiterate. Most importantly, Padme became just a piece of decoration for him, akin to the glinting brooches he wore out to the grand functions. For most of her married life she had been unaware of all of these insights and only after Anakin did she finally gain some awareness. She was a fool to not have seen all of these things before but Obi-wan was terribly good at pretending to be a noble and virtuous man, so much so that she had, much like the society seen him as such. However, now she could see all his cunningness and understood that he was trying to ruin her relationship with Anakin but she would not allow it.
Never.
“Padme.”
Upon hearing Anakin’s voice, her heart thudded in her chest and she turned her eyes away from the glass windows and immediately, her eyes prickled with tears.
Anakin looked just as beautiful as the day they had first met. His blonde curly hair, which had been gelled back on the night of Count Vronski’s ball however looked disheveled and his eyes which had glinted with desire for her, now looked dull and empty.
Nonetheless, her entire being quivered with yearning as she beheld her beloved and at once, she picked her skirt up and ran to embrace him.
She buried her face in his chest and tightly hugged him.
God, she had missed him so much.
“Dear lord, finally! Annie, god I missed you so much.” She pulled her head away to gaze up at her lover but uneasiness slithered in her chest making it tight when Anakin gave her no smile and continued to remain mute.
She loosened their embrace and swallowed nervously.
“Annie?” She called out his name in a quiet and uncertain tone.
Anakin averted his eyes and stepped away from her, putting some distance between them. He turned his head to the side and finally spoke in a tight and quiet tone, as if it was tremendously difficult to get the words out, “I-I have to tell you something.”
“What is it Annie?” She asked, her voice laced with concern and growing uneasiness.
Something was amiss, after all.
Anakin continued to keep his eyes averted and spoke again as if with great effort, “ I’m sorry, Padme. Truly.” He finally faced her and at once her insides plummeted at the sight the young man made. His eyes glistened with unshed tears and his face contorted with pain when he spoke again, “ We have made a grave error.”
Padme’s eyes widened with shock at those words. She gawked at him with utter disbelief.
“We should not continue with this. We have gravely erred. The entire world shuns us. I saw the way you were treated at the ball and even if I wasn’t treated as poorly as you, I did receive those disapproving glares. My own mother reprimands me daily. I can’t do this dear, not after what your husband has done for us. He saved my mother who is everything to me. She is my sun and without her, I wouldn’t be here. I can’t hurt the one who gave my mother a new life. Despite all that I had done to him, despite it all he saved her. I’m sorry Padme, I would forever drown in misery and choke with guilt if I continue this affair. Forgive me. Please.”
A tear finally slid down his cheek when Anakin finished speaking. His voice had quivered at the end when he had pleaded for her forgiveness.
Padme however, after the shock had abated felt her anger rising by the end of his emotional appeal.
Her jaw clenched and her eyes narrowed into slits. Her face tense and flushed with anger she spoke sharply, “I knew he would do this. He might’ve deceived you but he could never deceive me. I know him fully.”
Anakin’s brows furrowed with puzzlement.
Padme grabbed his arms and drew him closer when she spoke again in a heated tone, “This is what he wants Anakin! This is the reason why he is treating your mother. He knew you would feel guilty and end our relationship. He knew this but we can’t let this happen! He has done you no favor Annie. It is his duty; after all he took an oath. He is bound to even treat enemy soldiers in the war. So please Annie! You have nothing to feel guilty about.”
Anakin’s eyes darted about her face but her words didn’t ease him even a little. His brows were still knit and his face still showed his distress clearly.
“Annie.” She said softly with a small smile and her eyes crinkling as she held his gaze. “We’ve done nothing wrong. Only we know about the purity and extent of our love. It is not wrong to love Annie, Amare aliquem non est iniuria.”
Anakin’s face still showed uncertainty and he finally replied, “Oath or not, he saved my mother’s life. I’m indebted to him. No one would blink an eye if he killed me. In society’s eyes I deserve it. In fact they would applaud him for killing the man who not only seduced his wife but also separated a son from his father. And, I won’t be able to live with that fact, Padme. I won’t.” Anakin’s voice cracked at the end and he brought his hand to his face and rubbed his eyes.
“Annie, I love you. Please.” A sense of urgency suddenly bloomed in her chest and her heart threatened to come out of her ribcage. She pulled her lover closer to her body and buried her face in his chest, seeking his bodily warmth. “ I can’t live without you. You’re everything to me. My soul has forever wandered this world in search of you and now that I have found you, I won’t ever give you up. You belong to me just as I belong to you. I’m ready to face the entire society’s vitriol, resentment, contempt for you. They may throw however much mud they wish to on me, sully my reputation, call me dirty names, nothing will ever stop me from loving you. Annie, I will give up my life for you. You’re all that matters to me. So please, don’t give up on us. Don’t let that man win! Please.” She pleaded and suddenly burst into tears. Her entire body shook as she wept with her head buried in his chest.
Anakin then wound his arms around her trembling body and pulled her closer. He remained mute and stroked her back gently.
“I’m sorry, dear. Don’t cry. I’m sorry.” He whispered softly.
Padme however continued to cry for what must’ve been an awfully long time. When they finally parted Anakin softly caressed her cheeks and promised to pay a visit soon and left.
And that was the first time Anakin hadn’t said ‘I love you’ to her. Hence, her heart grew heavy and her stomach twisted into knots when a sense of dread and impending doom enveloped her.
Sickly dread and uneasiness ripened inside her and she prayed with her eyes closed and her hands entwined before her.
God, please. Don’t let my love abandon me. Please.
Please.
Anakin
DEPARTMENT OF KING’S ARMED FORCES
GENERAL VASILY IVANOV
XXXX
BARON ANAKIN SKYWALKER
XXXXXXXXXX
XX
TEMPORARY SUSPENSON FROM ACTIVE DUTY.
Baron Anakin Skywalker,
We regret to inform you that we have made the difficult decision to suspend you from active duty. This comes at the behest of General Vasily Ivanov. This decision was made as a result of your recent actions which fall short of the ethical standards that are required to be upheld by the members of our institution. The suspension stands imposed indefinitely. Departmental disciplinary inquiry committee for the purpose has been established and upon issuing of notice, your presence shall be expected.
Undersigned
Xxxxx
GENERAL HEADQUARTERS
xxxxxxxxx
Anakin crushed the letter into a ball in his hand and at once, threw it away.
He wasn’t surprised by his suspension, he had after all expected it from the very moment he had arrived at the ball with another man’s wife, that too with the wife of Count Obi-wan Kenobi who was respected by the entire society for his heroic and noble deeds.
He knew he deserved this and therefore, it didn’t prick him as such.
Ever since the entire debacle of him begging for his mother’s life and the Count agreeing and treating his mother, Anakin had found his inner peace destroyed. There were emotions that he couldn’t even define and describe erupting in him and he therefore never felt at ease. His anxious disposition was chipping away his mental calm.
Also, a rather frightful feeling was stirring in him. It would grip him whenever the Count would visit their house to check up on his mother’s health.
Anakin always made sure to never let his presence be known during those visits. He would be informed of the Count’s presence by his staff and then would willingly lock himself in his office room in order to avoid the angry man.
However, even through walls of concrete and brick, he could still feel the daunting presence of the man. His heart would continue to quake in his chest through the entirety of the old man’s visit and would ease only when his servant would inform him of the old man’s departure. It was terribly abnormal for one to be this affected by another man’s presence. Anakin would try everything to distract his mind, from attempting to read a book to painting but nothing would ease his anxious mind.
He didn’t know how to explain this feeling. It was frightful to him because it was unlike anything he had ever felt before. The feeling made him acutely aware of the other’s presence in his house. It would prompt him several times to leave his office room and be nearer to the man. It wanted desperately to for him to be in close proximity to the other man and torrents of desperation would wash over him in want for a glimpse of the other man’s face.
God.
It was truly frightful how he longed for a single glimpse of the man.
Another just as terrible thing was unfolding within him. His love for Padme was fading. When once she had bewitched him and enraptured him fully, now no such feelings of desire for her bubbled up in him. And thus, he was pricked by guilt even more.
Padme’s love for him was pure and unwavering. He had no doubt about that after all, she had given up everything for him. The women had forsaken her matrimonial vows for him and had borne society’s vitriol as a result and yet, despite all the repercussions she still stood steadfast beside him.
It brought him deep, gut wrenching shame therefore, for he discovered that his love for her wasn’t as unwavering and everlasting as he had once thought it to be.
Anakin therefore was deeply revolted by his actions.
He was simply put just a horrible man, who driven insane by an infatuation had destroyed an entire family as a consequence. His selfish actions had resulted in destroying innocent lives and Anakin didn’t know how to repent for his horrible actions.
So caught in this web of ruin that he himself had woven, he patiently awaited his devastation.
How would he come out of this, he had no clue.
“Sir, Lady Shmi requests your presence in her room.”
Anakin jolted at Nikoli, his footman’s unexpected appearance and frowned at him, “Isn’t Count Obi-wan tending to her right now?” He asked.
“Yes , sir but your mother insists that you join them.”
Anakin’s heart jumped in his chest upon hearing those words. Why? Why would his mother punish him like this? He had already told her how much the Count hated him and yet, she would do something so foolish?
“Alright.” He said and suppressed his voice from shaking. Anakin followed his footman and with every step he took, his breathing grew rapid and his skin became clammy.
Nikoli knocked on the door to his mother’s room and entered first. He then announced Anakin’s arrival who swallowed nervously and hesitantly entered the room at last.
“ahh Annie..” His mother who after weeks of treatment looked in much better health beamed at him but Anakin’s eyes, which had merely glanced his mother’s way , were now gazing at the other occupant in the room.
Count Obi wan had his eyes downcast and it was clear from the way his body was tense and his jaw clenched that Anakin’s arrival had terribly soured his mood. He hadn’t spared a single glance Anakin’s way and a twinge of pain shot through him at such a hostile reception.
“Yes mother,Wha—” before he could finish his sentence, however, the irritable man abruptly stood up and cutting him off, bowed his head in Anakin’s mother’s direction and spoke in a gravelly voice, “Forgive me my lady, but I must leave at once. You must continue the medications in the manner I have prescribed and all shall be well. However, if there arises any unforeseeable problem do inform me but for now I’m quite content with the results of the treatment so far and I’m positive that there shall be no further problem. I’m glad to have been at your service my lady and I’m delighted to inform you that my visits shall no longer be necessary. And, of course I will forever be at your service if god forbid, a need for me arises in the future. Now, farewell and may God be with you.”
His mother’s eyes which at first had widened at Count’s abrupt response turned sad by the end of the old man’s speech and locked with Anakin.
“Farewell, sir. God bless you.” His mother said in a quiet voice.
Count gave a slight bow and then donning on his hat, swiftly departed from the room.
A form of sudden and gripping urgency quickened Anakin’s pulse and he, in a moment of temporary insanity strode after the departing Count.
It didn’t feel good at all, seeing Count’s handsome face contort into a scowl upon Anakin’s arrival. In fact, it hurt Anakin tremendously.
Anakin’s heart was skyrocketing when he saw Count’s wide retreating back.
Something possessed him then and he loudly called out the Count’s name, “Count Obi-wan!”
The Count stopped in his tracks. His wide back in his black frockcoat was tense and Anakin could see his fists clenched by his sides.
Anakin waited but the Count didn’t look back at him. A piercing pain shot through him at the Count’s cold response, however, he steeled himself and slowly stepped closer to the other man.
He took a deep breath and spoke hesitantly once he came close enough, “I know that you despise me. I know that what I’ve done is unforgivable. However, please, know this that despite it all, I don’t derive any joy from making you this angry. I feel utterly sick to my stomach knowing how much pain I’ve caused you. Please, Count.. If hurting me will make you feel a bit better, then I give you permission to hurt me in whichever way you like. You may punch me, slap me and make me bleed and I promise, I shall bear it all.”
A pause and then the world slowed down and blurred before his eyes with a sense of vertigo hitting him when the Count at once turned and grabbed his collar, pulling him against his chest and fanning hot air against his face.
Angry eyes which had darkened with fury looked at him and Anakin’s heart thudded loudly in his chest with the sound of it reverberating in his ears.
“Do not tempt me, Baron.” Obi-wan hissed through his bared teeth and Anakin felt a shiver run down his spine.
His wide eyes darted about the seething Count’s face as fear rose in waves within him. He had only ever seen flashes of Count’s bottled up rage till now but now, seeing his fury unsuppressed and directed at him, Anakin felt chilling fear still the blood in his veins.
However, if releasing this pent up anger on him might make the Count feel a bit better then Anakin was more than happy to be at the receiving end of it.
“Like I said.. You may do as you please.” Anakin said and steeled himself, bracing his body for any unexpected blows but the Count didn’t move. His hand had an iron grip on Anakin’s collar as he glowered at him. With their faces close to one another Count’s hot breaths repeatedly kissed Anakin’s heated skin and Anakin’s heart continued to hammer in his chest.
When at first fear had chilled his blood, now a fiery and inexplicable feeling boiled his blood. It caused Anakin’s body to heat up and for the blood to rush to his face and somewhere else, which he would rather not acknowledge.
“If I did as I pleased, you will never be able to walk again Baron.” Count Obi-wan said in a threatening and menacing tone and with a sudden harsh shove to his chest pushed him away.
The Count then turned around and walked out the door and all the while, Anakin’s heart pounded in his chest and a hot, prickling sensation tingled across his damp skin.
What does one call it when one sees the silhouette of a man in one’s dreams and nightmares? What does one call it when from the moment sun shines in the sky till when finally, it sets, leaving darkness in its wake, thoughts of only one man plagues them? What does one call it when a longing so deep in one’s being for a man torments them? What does one call it when throbbing pain erupts in one at the thought of hurting a man? What does one call it when one’s mind despises and loathes oneself for hurting a man who they’ve yearned for? What does one call it when one is ready to slit their wrists and bleed in order to seek a man’s forgiveness?
What does one call it?
Anakin knew the answer.
He had known from the very moment when one day had woken up and a deep unsettling restlessness had agitated him at the thought of Count Obi-wan Kenobi never coming to his house again. He had known when an irresistible and intense craving to see the man would cause a shiver to run down his spine. He had known when Padme’s loving letters and her declarations of love only caused him dread. He had known when suddenly Count’s scowling face would flash before his eyes and his heart automatically would start to beat faster in his chest. He had known when lost among the faceless crowd, his eyes would deliberately and unbeknownst to him search for the embittered man.
He knew the answer but was deathly afraid to voice it, for voicing it would mean he had acknowledged it.
Oh but he knew, because every fiber of his being only chanted one name, day and night, from dusk till dawn.
Obi-wan.
Obi-wan.
Obi-wan.
Anakin exhaled a shaky breath and stepped towards the mahogany doors, looking at them with dread and longing. He sucked a shaky breath in and knocked on them with his shaking hand.
His heart thudded in his chest when they opened to reveal Albert, who clearly was not pleased to see him. The loyal butler of the Count titled his head up and regarded him with cold and scornful eyes.
“Baron Anakin Skywalker” Albert bowed his head slightly and continued in an unfeeling tone, “may I know the purpose of your visit sir?”
“My mother wished to gift the Count something for his noble service. She wanted me to personally hand it to him.” Anakin said nervously.
Albert remained mute for some time as he kept a steady gaze on him, as if trying to gauge him and then he bowed his head again while speaking, “Very well. Please come inside. I’ll take you to the Count.”
Anakin felt relief wash over him but only for a moment.
The thought of actually meeting the embittered and bilious Count caused a lurch in the pit of his stomach. On one hand his entire being was vibrating with the thought of finally seeing the handsome Count but on the other he feared the Count’s reaction towards his unbidden arrival.
Anakin was a bundle of nerves as he followed Albert inside the Count’s house. He grew even more nervous when instead of taking him to the drawing room Albert took him towards the doors that faced the garden.
A cacophony of loud manly voices came through the opened doors and Anakin frowned.
Anakin by now a nervous wreck impatiently waited at the doors as Albert went outside. After what must be a few minutes but to him felt like an eternity Albert came back through the doors.
“Count says that he will see you in the garden.” Albert then bowed again and left.
Anakin though looked at the doors towards garden as if they were gates of hell. It was confounding to him that he, a man who had fought many a bloody battles would be so fearful of an older man, so much so that coming face to face with said man caused him dread.
He at last steeled himself and stepped through the door. At once, though the sight before him made him stop short. He gawked as he beheld the three bare chested men, out of whom two were currently sparring. Count Obi-wan was sparring with Count Qui-gon jinn while Count Andrei oversaw the match between the two.
“Ah! Baron Skywalker! Forgive me, I’ll greet you properly once this match finishes” Count Andrei said in a cheerful voice addressing him. “Why don’t you enjoy the match as well? Any bets?” He chuckled and Anakin simply shook his head.
He stayed rooted to the spot as he watched the sparring match.
It shouldn’t surprise him that the Count sparred, after all he had been in the army for years and had fought many battles but at the same time, he had thought that the Count would’ve preferred the company of books over physical exercise. However, this did explain Count’s strong built which Anakin had noted despite the several layers of clothing.
Now, bare chested he could see all Count’s muscles ripple under his skin. He could see the muscles in his back tighten and bulge whenever he tried to grapple Count Qui-gon jinn in order to effectively take him down. Although Count Qui-gon Jinn had a taller and heavier built, Count Obi-wan was more agile and quick with his strikes. Compared to Count Qui-gon Jinn, Count Obi-wan had already landed a good amount of impactful strikes. At last, Count Obi-wan suddenly lowered himself and pressed his shoulder and head against Count Qui-gon’s chest, from then on he drove straight forward and toppled the larger man to the ground. With an effective takedown, Count Obi-wan grappled the larger man and dominated him successfully and finally, the larger man tapped the ground.
“Obi-wan wins!” Count Andrei declared happily.
“Goddammit I almost had him!” Count Qui-gon groaned and got up from the ground.
“You always say this but you’ve not won a single fight against him to date!” Count Andrei smirked and then suddenly turned to Anakin, “Ahh Baron Skywalker don’t stand so far! Did you enjoy the fight?”
Count Qui-gon and Count Obi-wan both turned to regard him at the same time and Anakin felt his heart hammer in his chest at the hostile glares coming from both the men. It was clear that Count Qui-gon was aware of everything that had happened between Anakin and Count Obi-wan, while Count Andrei didn’t have a clue.
“I propose an excellent idea! How about a match between Baron and Count Obi-wan?” Count Andrei innocently suggested and Anakin’s eyes widened in response.
Count Obi-wan’s brows rose in a surprised arc as well at the suggestion.
“Yes, why not?” Count Qui-gon said shocking both Anakin and Count Obi-wan, “It’ll be interesting to see the Baron’s skill firsthand. Also, it’ll be fun to see Obi-wan getting taken down for once.” Count Qui-gon smirked and patted Count Obi-wan’s back who looked offended and had an angry scowl on his face.
“Well then! Baron take off your jacket and shirt and let’s begin.” Count Andrei said excitedly.
Anakin knew that he couldn’t say no given the high station of the man in question and with his pulse thundering in his ears he removed his jacket and undershirt. Bare chested he approached the old Count who was now glaring at him with his eyes narrowed into slits.
Count Obi-wan took a fighting stance and faced him with his fists raised. Anakin took on a similar stance and felt the muscles of his body tense.
“Alright, we start in one, two and go!” Count Andrei yelled and at once, Count Obi-wan charged at him.
Anakin felt his stomach knot when he blocked Count Obi-wan’s first strike. It was not only fast but also surprisingly precise and powerful. From that one strike Anakin knew that he wouldn’t last long.
He managed to successfully block a few more strikes and just when he was about to attack the older Count, the man in question pushed him at the shoulder and managed to grab Anakin’s leg. His eyes widened when in a matter of a few minutes he was toppled to the ground. The Count grappled him to the ground and mounted him.
Anakin though froze and simply gawked at the man as he looked down at him. Count’s auburn locks fell around his face which was flushed red. His jaw was set in a scowl as he locked Anakin’s hands to ensure that he didn’t maneuver out of the lock.
Fight forgotten, Anakin eyes hungrily took in the sight of the man above him. His eyes traced every line on the old man’s face. They took in the pink chapped lips, the auburn beard and moustache. The blue eyes which were dark and stormy as they looked at him.
Count Obi-wan looked utterly handsome above him despite the angry scowl on his face and Anakin knew he was doomed.
His body’s reaction to the Count’s body pressing him down and strongly holding him was utterly shameful. Waves of arousal rose within him, drowning and suffocating him with mind numbing lust for the older man.
All this time he had tried to not acknowledge it, but now though his body answered for him honestly.
Anakin was besotted with the Count.
His body and his soul wanted and craved for only one and that was the man that had him pressed to the ground.
He was doomed.
Anakin tapped the ground and it was over. The Count leapt off him when Count Andrei declared him the winner but Anakin, frozen as he had been lay on the ground for a minute, taking it all in.
“I can’t believe he won against the Baron. I was so sure the youth would take him down.” Count Qui-gon said sounding disappointed.
Anakin got up and saw the three men smiling and teasing each other. A sharp pang shot through him at the little smile on Count Obi-wan’s face. He had never seen the Count smile, ever. In his presence the Count always glowered. It hurt him to know that he would never get even a single smile from the Count.
“Well done, Baron! You gave this man a decent fight.” Count Andrei came to him and patted him on his back. “Now Albert informed us that you wanted to talk to Obi-wan. Go on. We’ll go inside and freshen up. Let’s go Qui-gon!”
Count Qui-gon gave him a frosty look and then left with Count Andrei.
Anakin felt his thundering pulse echo in his ears when he finally faced the man he loved.
Count Obi-wan, as usual was glowering at him and said tersely, “What is it you want Baron?”
Anakin’s eyes swept down the Count’s bare, chiseled chest and hard torso that was matted with dirty blonde hair. Blood rushed to his cheeks immediately and he averted his eyes. He picked up his jacket and fished out a small red box from his pocket.
“Mother wanted me to give you this.” He said and handed over the box to the Count.
It was a beautiful brooch that belonged to his mother’s grandmother. It was very special to his mother and the fact that she wanted to give this to the Count clearly showed how much she admired and respected the man.
The Count opened the box and at once, his face softened.
“Please give her my sincerest thanks and convey to her that she didn’t need to give me anything.” Count said with gratitude seeping from his tone.
Anakin nodded and put on his undershirt and jacket.
“If that is all then I’ll take my leave.” Count Obi-wan said, again with his jaw tight.
Anakin bowed his head and murmured his goodbye. Just when he was about to leave though Count spoke up sharply, “Baron. It would be for the best that you never visit again. I’m sure that this could’ve been delivered here through a footman and if any matter of importance arises, you may send a parcel to my address.”
Anakin felt a sharp piercing pain penetrate his heart at those cruel words. He didn’t know what to say to that and simply lowered his head and walked away.
He knew he deserved this treatment after what he had done to the Count, however now, the pain that he felt penetrated him deeper since realization of his feelings for the man.
There was nothing more cruel than being hated by the person you loved.
Nothing.
It was dark out, and the wind howled outside the window shaking the leafless tress. The temperature had dropped so low that with every breath Anakin exhaled, vapors in the form of a small, misty cloud appeared near his mouth. Currently he sat in a dingy room with a lit candle being the only source of light and warmth.
His eyes looking nowhere, he mused for the nth time about the confrontation he would soon be having. At first, when he had first made the decision, his stomach had churned and twisted into knots. However now as he sat waiting for Padme a deep hollowness filled him. It was as if his heart was no longer beating in his chest and the entirety of the blood in his veins had stilled. He felt empty and numb. It could also be due to the fact that he hadn’t slept a wink last night, dreading this very confrontation.
It was coming and he knew he could no longer avoid it.
His hand had trembled as he had penned the note asking her to meet him at this seedy motel tonight.
Anakin squeezed his eyes tightly and clawed his fingers into his thighs through the pants.
Just when he was about to get up and pace around the room, the door to the dingy room creaked open and his eyes opened, immediately widening in alarm.
Padme entered the room and shut the door behind her. Unlike the usual manner of greeting him in which she would run into his arms and embrace him tightly, Padme stood with her hands entwined in front of her and with her back ramrod straight. She remained mute and kept gazing at him. Her icy stare bore into him as he slowly got up from the bed.
What should he say? How should he begin? God he felt so lost.
“Padme…” He said and swallowed as her unwavering glare held him in place, “ I –” before he could say anything though Padme interrupted him with an icy tone, “ You don’t return any of my letters for days and when you do they sound so formal and unfeeling that it sickens me and now, out of the blue you demand that I come here. Truth be told, I didn’t even want to see your face.”
Anakin licked his lips nervously and opened his mouth to speak, but words eluded him and he remained mute.
“I gave up everything for you. I broke my marriage vows, tore my family apart, bore humiliation for you and this is how you repay me?” Padme’s voice as she had said those words had initially dripped with venom but by the end it had sounded miserable and pained.
Anakin felt his chest tighten as guilt pricked him.
“Do you not love me anymore Annie?” her voice cracked and her face crumpled. Hot tears trickled down her cheeks and guilt tightened around his neck, suffocating him.
His shoulders slumped and he averted his eyes.
No, he did not love her, maybe he never did because Count Obi-wan was right, he had no clue about what love was in the first place. However, now he knew what love was and it tormented him daily. When he finally learned what it was and what it meant, it was lost to him for the one he loved despised him.
“I’m sorry, Padme. I’m sorry.” He muttered weakly.
Suddenly harsh sounds of feet hitting the wooden floor filled the air and Anakin turned his head with his eyes growing into wide circles. A harsh slap landed on his cheek, stinging it and Anakin gawked at Padme with his mouth hung open.
“Curse you! Curse you! Curse you!” Padme, now visibly extremely upset screeched at him repeatedly as she hit him again and again on his chest. Her eyes were blood shot and teary meanwhile Anakin was so shocked that he froze. “You evil man! You’ve ruined my life! You lied to me! You said you loved me! And that you would do anything for me! I let you touch me! I let you embrace me and this is how you repay me! You traitor!” Padme looked delirious with anger as she repeatedly hit him. “How could you do this to me?! You repeatedly talked about how much you loved me and wanted me all for yourself! You wrote me letters saying how without me your life would forever be incomplete and miserable and now, when I abandoned everything for you! Everything! You want to push me away!” Suddenly, Padme who a second ago was clawing at his clothes and hitting him as she had raved wildly, changed suddenly and completely. She bit her trembling lip as more tears trickled down her cheeks and by clutching his collar brought their faces close. She sniffled and rubbed their cheeks together and then rubbed the tip of her nose against his cheek. “Annie.. please..I know this is not you. I know you love me. It’s all his doing.” She hissed through her teeth. “This what he wanted. He wanted to ruin us and tear us apart. I won’t allow it! No! No! No! I won’t let him break us! No!” Padme was speaking in a wild and frenzied manner by now and fear surged in Anakin, chilling his blood.
“hey,hey,hey Padme. Listen to me. Calm down. Please. Please.” Anakin utterly frightened took hold of her shaking shoulders and by grabbing the back of her head pressed her tightly to his chest. He placed his chin on her head and rubbed his hand in soothing circles on her quivering back. “Calm down please. Please.”
He had anticipated an ugly confrontation but not like this. He had anticipated Padme lashing out at him, even hitting him but had not anticipated her becoming delirious with anger and grief. It had been harrowing to see her go from being angry to sad to angry again and then to loving in a matter of a few seconds. Her emotional responses had not only been intense and fleeting but also sudden and frenzied. All throughout her raving, she had had a crazed look in her eyes which had been frightening to witness.
“I know you love me. I know. Please Annie. Don’t leave me. Don’t go.” Padme spoke and wailed against his chest. “We’ll go somewhere far away, where no one will know us. We’ll start our life anew. It will be like what we’ve always dreamed of. Oh, it will be wonderful Annie.”
Anakin squeezed his eyes shut when his eyes started to sting. Tears pricked his eyes but he refused to let even a single trickle out.
“I’m sorry, Padme.” He said in a quivering voice as a lump formed in his throat, making it hard for him to speak. “I know you’ll never be able to forgive me. I know I have gravely wronged you and the Count and that there is no possible way that I’ll ever be able to redeem myself for the sin I’ve committed. However, my dear there is still hope for you. The Count is a great man and he loves you immensely. I know he will forgive you and happily welcome you back in his arms. Think of Ivan and how happy he will be to have his family back together again. For his sake, let go of me and go back to your husband.”
Padme let out a pained cry as she dug her head deeper in his chest. Her wails grew louder while she shook her head against his chest. “I can’t do it..I c-can’t..I would die without you Annie. I can’t live without you. You’re everything to me. Please… Please…” Suddenly Padme’s tight grasp on his clothes went slack and her knees buckled.
Anakin seriously alarmed, while holding her in his arms and preventing her from hitting the ground noticed that she had fainted.
His face growing ashen, he blinked rapidly as he tried to process the unbelievable sight before him.
His breath hitched, caught in his throat as shock of what had just happened jolted him.
Anakin looked at the slack and unconscious face of Padme and finally, felt hot tears trail down his cheeks.
God.. what has he done…
He lifted her into his arms and then gently placed her on the bed. At once, anxiety gripped him with a vice-like intensity, threatening to suffocate him and he grabbed the jug full of water that was resting on the bed side table. He dipped his fingers in the water and splashed at Padme’s face a few drops gently. Relief washed over him when he saw her eyes move under the closed lids. He then placed the jug back and with his hand lightly tapped her cheeks.
Padme’s eyes opened up slightly at last and she tiredly looked at him.
“Hey, you’re fine. Just rest okay.” Anakin said gently as he took her hand into his.
“Don’t leave me please.” Padme whispered weakly and Anakin gave a tight smile and nodded his head. However, as soon as Padme closed her eyes his smile fell and dread clawed at his heart.
This was the consequence of his sin.
His sinful actions have destroyed a beautiful family.
Not only did he ruin the life of the one he truly loved but he had also irreparably harmed a virtuous and honorable woman like Padme. He had brought disrepute to her name and despite all of it, she still loved him. He had also separated a father and a son and all for what? Only to discover that he loved someone else.
Count had warned him about everything but it was as if Anakin had lost his mind. He had been so infatuated with Padme that he had interpreted his infatuation for as love when it had only been lust.
It dawned on him at last, what he must do.
He must leave the city.
He knew his mother would understand why he wanted to leave and hence, wouldn’t mind going with him but he had to do it fast and in a clandestine manner for if Padme got even a whiff of it, she would abandon everything and follow him.
Hopefully, with him gone Padme would regain some sense again and go back to the Count.
Anakin sighed and his shoulders slumped. Before leaving forever though he would allow himself to be selfish again just once. He knew that he couldn’t just leave without seeing his true love just once. He knew that as things stood between him and the Count, if he were to leave now without begging for his forgiveness then Anakin would spend the remainder years of his in utter misery.
He couldn’t leave before seeing him one last time.
He just couldn’t.
Obi-wan
Hamlet
[To the Players] Begin, murderer, leave thy damnable faces and
begin. Come, the croaking raven does bellow for revenge.
Obi-wan paused as he read those lines uttered by Hamlet and felt a flutter in his stomach. His eyes of their own accord scanned the last line of the dialogue again and again and again. Every time he read those lines, a feeling which at this point he couldn’t quite name, ever so slowly slithered within him. He could sense that feeling grow in intensity and prick him.
Come, the croaking raven does bellow for revenge.
Obi-wan inhaled sharply and brought his hand toward his chin to caress his beard contemplatively.
His face flashed before his eyes again. Those blue anxious eyes, the furrowed brows, the unblinking, guilty and apologetic gaze and lightly quivering lips. His face of late looked markedly different from when they had first met at the ball, when his eyes had been heated and cold, and lips stretched into a smirk or pursed.
Suddenly anger rose in him like a tide at the thought of that despicable Baron and his knuckles whitened as his hands which were resting on his reading table balled into fists.
The thought of that man always angered him.
However, what use was his anger. It was redundant. After all, his wife had said it explicitly to him that she loved that man. She would soon be leaving with that man. Nonetheless he would continue to fight for Ivan. Deep sorrow bloomed in him when he recalled his lawyer’s pity ridden face, when he had told Obi-wan that the custody battle would be long and arduous and mostly, the courts favored the mother over the father.
Ivan.
God, it’d been so long since he last saw his face.
Obi-wan was so lost in his thoughts that he didn’t notice the sound of footsteps approaching his study. Soft knocks on the open door of his study brought him out of his pensive state, and he glanced up to look at the concerned face of his head butler.
“What is it Albert?” Obi-wan asked, his eyebrows furrowing at the worry that was written all over his head butler’s wizened face.
“My lord, it’s Baron Skywalker. He says the matter is urgent, and that he must see you at once.” Albert said sounding anxious.
Skywalker?
At this hour? Talk of the devil.
God, that infuriating man would just not leave him alone.
However, his mother was a kind and tender-hearted woman, and what if the matter of urgency was regarding her. It did perplex him though because when he had last visited her, she had been quite healthy and mostly recovered. Nonetheless, Obi-wan knew how unpredictable the human body truly was. He had seen cases where a person had come in feeling rather tired and with a headache, only for him to die of multiple organ failure within a few hours.
“Let him in.” Ob-wan said with a grim look on his face. Albert bowed his head and left.
Obi-wan could already feel the first stirrings of his anger. His face hardened and he pursed his lips.
Obi-wan heard his footsteps before he saw him. They sounded light, and unsure, and then he finally showed up, looking anxious and uncertain through the opened door.
Anakin stepped through the door already fidgety, his shoulders jumped when Albert shut the door behind him.
All the while Obi-wan remained seated behind his table with his eyes boring into the other man.
“I told you quite explicitly Baron, that you must not show up to my house again. It better be an urgent matter.” Obi-wan said with bitter resentment.
Anakin looked nervous and fidgeted restlessly. With his face flushed, he tugged at the collar of his shirt and then wiped his palms on his trousers. “I-I “ He paused, a spasm crossed his face and then he continued in a thick and unsteady tone, “I-I..L-lied.”
Obi-wan’s eyes widened at the stuttered words, “Lied?!” He exclaimed with his brows knit together. “Whatever in God’s name are you on about?” Obi-wan barked as his jaw tightened, with his muscles twitching from suppressing his urge to just lash out at the man.
Anakin remained mute and chewed on his lip with uncertainty. His blue eyes in wide, helpless circles looked at Obi-wan and a momentary look of distress crossed his face.
“Don’t test my patience, Baron. State the reason why you decided to show up after my explicit disapproval, that too at such time of the night and lied to my face.” Obi-wan’s sharp voice pierced the air like the shards of glass. His every word dripped with derision and contempt for the other person.
Anakin grimaced and shifted from one foot to the other. He averted his eyes as he spoke in a quiet, low voice “Because I knew you wouldn’t let me in if I didn’t state it as an emergency.”
Having had enough he slammed his hands against the table and stood up. He moved around the table and with decisive steps marched angrily towards the Baron. Anakin’s face paled at his abrupt reaction.
He stopped when he was standing but a few paces away from the younger man, whose face was ashen white and who was gawking at him with wide, unblinking eyes.
“I’ve had it with you.” He ground out the words through clenched teeth. “After all you’ve done. You still have the nerve to show up at my house!” Obi-wan’s voice boomed like thunder as it rose an octave. He directed a scorching glare at the despicable man who cringing, took a step back.
“I-I’m s-sorry.” Anakin stammered and continued in an unsteady and tight tone, “I-I j-just came here t-to apologize f-for everything.”
This façade of guilt was too much for Obi-wan and he descended upon the man. He harshly grabbed Anakin’s collar and wrenched him closer. Their faces close he could clearly see fear in the young man’s eyes and a sadistic thrill shot through him.
“Don’t come back here ever again. I’ve been too patient with you, but now no longer. If you come here again I will no longer abstain myself from doing what I’ve been wanting to do all along.” Obi-wan snarled as a cloud of warning settled over his features.
“Do it.” Surprise bloomed inside Obi-wan which he made sure didn’t show on his face at the words that spilled from the Baron’s mouth. For the first time since their interaction, a sort of resolve showed through Anakin’s hardened features. No longer anxious or afraid and with his chin tilted high he gazed heatedly into Obi-wan’s eyes.
“Do it.” He repeated with a firm tone and continued, “Do what you’ve been wanting to do to me. Like I said before, you may do as you please. Punch me, slap me, hurt me, make me bleed, do whatever you want and I will not stop you, Count.”
Anger welled up in his chest again and he drew their faces even closer, “Don’t tempt me.” He hissed with his eyes darkening.
“Do it. I beg you. If it makes you feel better, do it.” Anakin said in a pained voice. His eyebrows drawn together, a look of anguish flitted across his face.
Obi-wan feeling suddenly disgusted, harshly shoved the man away. “Get out! And never show your face here again!”
He immediately turned his back to the reprehensible man, and was just about to walk away, when words so unexpected, so jarring jolted him and froze him to the spot.
“I love you.”
Obi-wan, utterly shocked spun on his feet and faced the man again with wide, unblinking eyes. He gawked at the man whose face was covered in tears that trickled down his cheeks.
Were his ears ringing? Did he really hear those words?
All doubt vanished from his mind when the Baron repeated those very words again with quivering lips.
“I love you, Count.”
Obi-wan was so shocked that for a moment he entered into a state of temporary paralysis. When finally, his nerves which as if they had been shocked by electricity, settled he walked closer to the other man.
“What did you say?” Obi-wan asked utterly bewildered, hoping that he hadn’t heard those words.
Anakin didn’t say anything, and teary eyed just gazed at him.
Raw anger shot through him flooding his veins. The air between them crackled with tension as he clenched his fists, his knuckles turning white with the intensity of his rage.
“Say it!” His voice boomed as the ridges of his neck became dangerously pronounced.
Anakin’s eyes widened in alarm as his shoulders jumped to his ears.
This man had succeeded in destroying Obi-wan’s family using those very same words on his wife, and now he dared to use it on Obi-wan. What kind of sick ploy was this? What more could he want? He had taken everything from Obi-wan. Everything and now he was playing this sick joke on him! Was he mocking Obi-wan! God, he had tried to curtail his fury many a times. When he could’ve battered the man’s face and leave him bloodied, he abstained. He did it largely for his son but now, no longer. This man was purely evil. Only an evil man would throw around those words so easily.
Obi-wan, now totally in the grips of incandescent rage approached the cowering Baron. He harshly fisted his blonde curls and wrenched them as he drew their faces close. “You’ve tested me too much Baron. Now I can no longer be patient with you. How dare you say those words to me when you don’t even know their meaning?! Those very words you had used to lure and seduce my wife and now you dare use them on me!? A foul man like you can never know what love is.” Obi-wan hissed through his bared and clenched teeth.
A painful whine spilled from Anakin’s trembling lips as his wet eyes darted about Obi-wan’s face. Sorrow clouded his features and his eyes which were bloodshot, shimmered with tears which trailed down his flushed cheeks. “Do it then, but know this Count. I may not have known what love was earlier but now I do not lie. I do love you for I yearn for you, because it agonizes and torments me daily to know that I am the cause of your suffering.” Anakin said in a soft, quivering voice.
“What of the time when you had so brazenly proclaimed your love for my wife in front of me. Then also you had sounded so sure and, now all of a sudden you love me? How can you be so sure that it isn’t another mistake on your part?” Obi-wan spat out the words with his voice dripping with spite. “You no nothing about love, Baron. Nothing.”
This man, this sick man who had so easily toyed with the feelings of his wife and was now toying with him needed to be taught a lesson.
Come, the croaking raven does bellow for revenge.
Out of the blue, hamlet’s words echoed in his mind and he gazed intently into royal blue eyes which were glistening with agony.
“You said that I may do as I please with you, didn’t you?” Obi-wan said removing his hand from Anakin’s hair. He slowly walked back a little and then raised his chin high, regarding the weeping man with disdainful eyes. “Well then Baron. I’ll take you up on your offer. Get down on your knees at once.” He said gravely with a grim look on his face.
Blood drained from Anakin’s face at those words.
He stood rigid with shock, too overwhelmed to move and just when Obi-wan was going to mock him for it, the young man’s face tightened with resolve. Slowly Anakin lowered himself to the ground and witnessing it, Obi-wan felt a sadistic thrill shoot through him.
He walked closer to the man on his knees and moved his right foot forward, placing it close to the young man’s proximity. “Well then, kiss my shoe, Baron.” He ordered bitterly as he looked down at the man with dark, scornful eyes.
Anakin paled at his command. He swallowed nervously as he darted his shocked eyes between Obi-wan and his dark brown leather shoe.
What did he think? That Obi-wan would punch him and slap him and it would suffice. No. What Anakin had done to him was far worse and could never be recompensed with a simple beating. For the wounds he bore were not flesh wounds that would heal in time, Obi-wan’s wounds were far deeper.
“Go on.” He said derisively.
Uncertainty flitted across Anakin’s face and then a flush crept up his cheeks. Finally, tentatively he lowered his face. Obi-wan jaw hardened at the scene before him. A feeling of satisfaction filled his bones when Anakin’s face drew closer to his dark, brown leather shoe. He could hear Anakin’s harsh and quick breaths and finally, his pink lips which had once when they had first met stretched into a haughty smirk, now pressed against the polished leather of his shoe. A dark, sadistic and intensely powerful sensation then erupted in him at the scene playing out before his eyes.
When Anakin slowly lifted his head up after laying a kiss on his shoe, Obi-wan could see wet drops of his tears covering the surface of his shoe. Anakin then continued to keep his head drooped and his eyes downcast, clearly humiliated and ashamed about what he had just done.
“Let’s see if you’ll continue to love me after this.” Obi-wan said threateningly and his hands went to his pants. Right now, since he had been reading in his study he was relatively less formally dressed and was wearing his shirt, waistcoat and his pants only. His hands unbuckled his belt and pulled it out of his pants.
Anakin who had looked up after hearing his words, looked at his hands and what he was doing with fear ridden eyes.
“Remove your jacket and shirt, and turn around on your knees, with your back facing me.” He said as he looped the belt tightly around his hand.
Anakin’s face grew pinched as it finally dawned on him what Obi-wan intended to do. He locked teary eyes with Obi-wan and slowly removed his jacket and his shirt. Bare chested he then turned around on his knees, and stopped once his pale and bare back faced Obi-wan.
Obi-wan inhaled a deep breath in, and wrenched the end of the belt which was looped around his one hand. He then spoke sharply, “fifteen lashes. Brace as soon as I speak the number.”
He paused as he saw the muscles tense under the pale skin then he spoke loudly “One.” and landed the leather with great force on the pale skin. A sharp cry pierced the air and followed the loud crack of the whip, and Obi-wan saw blood rush immediately to the surface where he had whipped the young man. A powerful and intense sensation then engulfed him at the sight and he spoke again, “Two.”
An explosive and sharp sound again sliced the air and the baron howled in agony from the impact. Another deep red bruise bloomed on the pale skin again, but Obi-wan now merciless and in the grips of smoldering fury wasn’t deterred one bit. He spoke the number and landed the leather mercilessly with great force every time on the young man’s back.
When they reached the number seven however, the young man’s back was covered in red bruises and Obi-wan could also see a few small cuts from where drops of blood was seeping through. Soft whimpers and cries filled the air and for the first time since he began, as he saw the quivering and red back of the young man, Obi-wan felt stirrings of pity.
Obi-wan knew that after this point flogging would only lead to development of deep lacerations which would cause the young man immense suffering, which even though he rightly deserved wasn’t what Obi-wan wanted.
So he threw the belt away. Anakin’s shoulders jumped to his ears at the sound of the belt hitting the ground.
Obi-wan slowly walked around the young man who was still weeping and faced him. Anakin’s entire body was shaking and his head was hung low with his chin resting on his chest.
Obi-wan got down on his one knee and wrenched the crying man’s hair, tilting his head up to face him. Blood shot and teary eyes locked with him and Obi-wan’s lips curled with anger.
“Do you love me still? ” Obi-wan asked disdainfully with his top lip pulled up on one side.
Anakin’s eyebrows furrowed as pain spasmed across his face. Hot tears trickled through his blood shot eyes which continued to gaze at him and his trembling lips which were bitten red finally opened up, “Yes.” He said in a hoarse and broken voice and continued weakly. “Always.”
Obi-wan’s brows shot up in surprise at those words. Astonished, he continued to gaze into the teary eyes of the young man.
When his surprise abated and a voice reminded him of how untrustworthy the Baron was he let go of his hair and stood up.
“I find it hard to believe.” Obi-wan scoffed.
A thought trickled into his mind and he himself was surprised at what it suggested. However, unlike how earlier he would discard such a strange thought instantly, this time though the thought seeped into his being.
What it was suggesting was so outrageous, but as he gazed at the plush lips of the young man which had been bitten red and raw, and he looked at the flushed cheeks and blue eyes which shimmered with tears. The thought wasn’t…unappealing.
He must’ve really lost his mind for even to be considering such a vile thing.
Nonetheless, another much agreeable thought followed instantly in support of the outrageous one. It whispered into his mind salaciously. It hissed and rejoiced when his reason failed and his passions clung to it desperately. It whispered simply to ruin the young thing forever. It asked him to give the man so much pleasure that no woman would be able to satiate him ever again. The young man would moan and quiver in his arms and then if it indeed was true that he loved Obi-wan, then after his scorching touch, the young Baron would fall deeper in love with him. And, finally Obi-wan would have the young baron’s heart in his hand which he would then smash to bits.
The young thing will finally learn what heart ache feels like.
What being shattered feels like, when the one you love abandons you.
Obi-wan drew a deep breath in and his hands balled into fists by his sides. His jaw hardened decisively and he spoke sharply, “You say you love me. Well then, get up and go to the room in the back. Remove all your clothes, and lie in the bed and wait for me.”
Anakin’s eyes grew impossibly wide at his words. He gawked at him and froze completely.
“What? What do you think lovers do?” Obi-wan said with a derisive chuckle. “If you love me as you say, shouldn’t you be dying to be in my arms? If not, then I was correct. You do not in fact love me and it’s all a bluff.”
Anakin swallowed nervously, and slowly got up on his feet under Obi-wan’s heated gaze. His face had a contemplative and uncertain look while he gazed back at him, as if he were trying to gauge Obi-wan.
Maybe Obi-wan was right and it had all been a bluff. However, what would the young man gain from doing this? Obi-wan had sufficiently punished him and the young Baron had borne it all. Why would the young Baron contend with being flogged and humiliated if indeed he didn’t have any feelings for Obi-wan?
For a moment however, when a spasm crossed Anakin’s face, Obi-wan thought that Anakin would say no but instead, the young man turned around and slowly treaded towards Obi-wan’s room that was attached to his study. Once the young man went inside, for the first time since the entire altercation Obi-wan felt his heart thud in his chest. His pulse picked up and his breathing grew fast.
What the hell was he doing? Bedding the man who his wife had left him for. However, if he truly did love Obi-wan then by giving him what only Obi-wan could, Anakin would fall for him even deeper and then Obi-wan would crush him to bits and shatter him like he had shattered Obi-wan once.
Obi-wan picked up the belt from the floor and wrapped it around his hand once again. He stopped by his desk and pulled out his cigar. Before putting his cigar between his lips however, an urgent want rose in him to drink the whiskey that rested on his desk. He pulled out his glass and poured the clear liquid in it. Without diluting it with water or even ice, he downed the entire thing in one go and grimaced at the burn that erupted in his throat. He drank two more glasses of whiskey in a similar manner and then finally placed his cigar between his lips.
Obi-wan lighted the match stick and scorched the end of his Cigar with it. After taking his first few puffs he then picked up a vial of coconut oil and walked inside the room.
Anakin had followed his instructions precisely and sat naked on the bed anxiously. For the first time since the entire thing began he had finally stopped weeping and his blue eyes swept up and down Obi-wan’s body. Obi-wan though stayed rooted at the door with a cigar between his lips and belt wound around his hand. He gazed intently at the young Baron, who had started to fidget restlessly on the bed by now under his intense scrutiny.
Obi-wan suddenly threw the vial containing oil towards the bed and Anakin jolted as he caught it between his hands.
“Open yourself up for me. By the time I stop smoking my cigar, you better be loose enough to take me fully.” Obi-wan said with a completely deadpan face.
Anakin’s eyes though, as expressive as ever, grew into wide circles and the thin line of his brows jumped in surprise. His cheeks flamed and a deep scarlet flush crept up his cheeks. Although there was a moment which Obi-wan’s eyes caught, when fear flitted across his face and that was what caused Obi-wan a great degree of alarm which he made sure didn’t reflect on his face. He ensured that his face remained stony and inscrutable as he spoke in a gravelly voice, “I will not force myself on you Anakin. We will only proceed if you want to. If you don’t, then you can get dressed and leave.”
Anakin’s face which had contorted with fear, slackened but the very next moment, a kind of desperation clouded over his rather feminine and soft features.
“I want to stay.” He said in a tight and desperate voice.
“Alright. However, you will do as I say. Do you understand?” Obi-wan asked in a grave tone.
Anakin simply nodded his head and grabbed the vial in his hands again. Obi-wan entered the room and walked towards the chair that was placed in a corner of the room. Oil lamps were lit up in his room, illuminating it just the way it pleased Obi-wan. The golden light of the lamps bathed the room with a warm, soothing light and alighted the naked man’s body in just the right way. At first he had thought that since he had never bedded a man before, there was likelihood of him not getting aroused but now, as his eyes swept over Anakin’s naked body he could already feel his dormant arousal stirring up.
He was beautiful.
It had indeed been the second thing he had noted about the man, the first had been his utter insolence. Maybe that was why he had hated the man so passionately, because he was beautiful and therefore he could easily sweep his wife off her feet and he had. However, look at the mysterious workings of the world. The man who his wife loved and desired had ended up wanting him instead, the person both of them had scorned and betrayed. It was truly astonishing and now the man who his wife had betrayed him for, lay on their bed, pushing fingers inside him and loosening himself to receive Obi-wan.
Obi-wan puffed at his cigar as he watched Anakin slowly lower his hand to his crotch. He blew the wisps of smoke out and watched the young Baron take his fingers even lower.
He knew the moment Anakin’s fingers touched his hole. It was when he stretched his neck back and his back arched slightly. A soft sigh escaped his lips and Obi-wan knew he had slid one finger inside.
“Stop after taking three inside, that should be sufficient to loosen you up.”Obi-wan said impassively and puffed at his cigar again.
At two Anakin’s stomach had started to tremble and he had started to suck in quick, short breaths. He had also bent his one leg up to get more room.
When a whimper finally spilled from his lips and his face scrunched up, Obi-wan knew that he had managed to get three fingers inside of him. It was at this point that Anakin had started to get really aroused. His dick became hard and his legs started to quiver as well. His hips were lifting off the bed and pushing back on his fingers and just when, under the haze of lust he was about to grab his dick, Obi-wan’s sharp voice sliced through the air which earlier was only full of his breathy whimpers and moans, “Stop! Move your hand. You will only cum from my dick inside of you today.” Obi-wan said crudely and Anakin’s eyes which had already darkened with lust, widened. He gazed at Obi-wan with his mouth open and placed his hand back on the bed again.
Anakin resumed fingering himself and was about to avert his eyes again from embarrassment when Obi-wan ordered, “Don’t look away. Keep looking at me as you finger yourself.”
The Baron was so embarrassed that all this time as he had opened himself up, he had made sure to keep his eyes shut. And, Obi-wan had let him, for he knew that despite closing his eyes Anakin could easily feel Obi-wan’s scorching gaze on his naked skin. However, now he wanted to see the Baron flush completely from mortification as he saw Obi-wan gazing intently at what he was doing to himself.
Obi-wan could feel his arousal mounting, when Anakin’s blue eyes locked with his. He could see vulnerability in them, even a little fear but there was also intense lust. Obi-wan leaned back in the chair and spread his legs wide open. He puffed at the cigar one last time and then pressed it’s burning end on the ashtray that was resting on the side table beside his chair.
“I think that’s enough.” Obi-wan commanded brusquely and continued, “get down on your fours on the ground.”
Anakin’s eyes must’ve widened for the hundredth time since their interaction. Was what he saying that surprising? Obi-wan wondered. Maybe Anakin due to Obi-wan’s stoic disposition could’ve never conceived of Obi-wan being this dominating in the bedroom. And truth be told, he had never let this part of him come to surface. He had always suppressed it.
His coupling with Padme had always been rather tame as well, since Obi-wan was afraid that his wife might get offended if he were to suggest such things to her. Their lovemaking had always been sweet but there were times, when Obi-wan had wanted to do something more dirty. He had often dreamt about throwing her against the wall or the bed, tying her up or something even dirtier, like what he was doing with Anakin. One time when he had let his lust overwhelm him and as a result had torn her skirt, she had been very upset. Since then he had kept his desires suppressed. Not that their lovemaking was any less beautiful in his eyes but there had been times when he had wanted to make her his, have her be at his mercy and beg for him.
Today he would have this Baron at his mercy and watch him beg.
Anakin anxiously got down on his knees on the ground. With his cheeks flaming red he then placed his hands on the ground and got on his fours.
God.
Who knew that one-day Obi-wan would have the insolent and reprehensible Baron on his fours, naked in front of him?
“Crawl to me.” Obi-wan said with his voice slightly breathy and deep, and exhibiting out-right for the first time signs of his flaming arousal.
Anakin took a shaky breath in and deep embarrassment coupled with lust clouded his features. Slowly, he crawled towards Obi-wan and oh, what a sight he made.
“Come here.” Obi-wan patted on his lap. He still had his belt looped around his one hand.
Anakin swallowed visibly and slowly and cautiously climbed into his lap. “Wrap your hands around my neck.” Obi-wan whispered darkly. His hands as if pulled by a magnet on their own settled on the young one’s hips. He could feel Anakin’s erection press against his waistcoat and his pre-cum dripping onto Obi-wan’s crisp and expensive clothes.
“Lift your hips up. I have to check if you’ve done the job properly. If not, I’ll have to punish you.” Obi-wan said darkly and a sadistic thrill shot through him when Anakin flinched at those words and more of his pre-cum dribbled onto Obi-wan’s clothing.
Obi-wan let his fingers slide lower when Anakin raised his hips. The Baron buried his flushed face against Obi-wan’s neck when he slid one and then two and finally three of his fingers inside.
Obi-wan immediately clenched his jaw to suppress an involuntary groan from escaping his lips when his fingers easily slid inside the tight, wet heat. His cock jolted in his pants at the tight and velvety feel of the young man’s insides.
An urgency came upon him of wanting to just ram himself inside the other in one go. When with Padme he had been restrained and careful, with the Baron now he could finally let that control slip.
“Good.” He said with his voice thick with arousal. “Now, go lie on the bed.”
Anakin pulled back and with his arms still entwined around Obi-wan’s neck, he looked down at him. His hot, quick breaths fanned Obi-wan’s face. Anakin then unconsciously titled his head to one side, and brought their faces even close as his dark, lust ridden eyes fell on Obi-wan’s lips. Obi-wan though knew instantly what the Baron wanted.
A kiss.
However, theirs was not a love-making and a kiss should only ever be shared among lovers, even prostitutes reckoned the same. And, Obi-wan still resented the Baron for all that he’d done hence, he pulled his face back, turning it away from the other man. “Go, lie on the bed.” Obi-wan reiterated in a stern voice.
Anakin, clearly shattered and crestfallen didn’t say anything and climbed out of his lap. He then walked towards the bed and laid on it.
What did Anakin think? That they were making love? Obi-wan mentally scoffed at that and got up from the chair. He slowly unwound the belt that was looped around his hand as he walked towards the bed.
It was just a simple fuck. That was it.
“Raise your hands towards me.” Obi-wan ordered sternly. Anakin had swallowed nervously as his eyes had fallen on the belt in Obi-wan’s hands. His face was contorted with fear while he raised his hands above him. Obi-wan took hold of both of his hands and wound the belt around his wrists. He could see Anakin’s chest rise up and down steadily while he wet his plush lips.
Obi-wan then walked towards the edge of the bed and with their gazes locked, unbuttoned his waistcoat and took it off. He then unbuttoned his white, crisp shirt and shrugged it off his shoulders. Anakin’s eyes immediately darkened at the sight of Obi-wan’s bare chest and torso.
“Well, then Baron. You know what’s going to happen next, don’t you? I will fuck you now. This is what you want right?” Obi-wan said with a derisive tone and a wry chuckle. “It’s not surprising at all that you left my wife when I see you like this, naked, wet and ready for me. How could a woman ever satisfy you? When all you want is a cock, moving deep inside you.”
Anakin’s face grew hot and scarlet from shame. He broke their eye contact and averted his eyes. Not even a word spilled from his lips and Obi-wan knew that he had said the truth. What was especially exciting was that Anakin’s erection had twitched and spurted even more pre-cum on his already sticky and trembling stomach.
Intoxicating waves of arousal drowned Obi-wan and he unbuttoned his pants. He removed them and placed his one knee on the bed. However, an intoxicating idea occurred to him and something he had always wanted to try on Padme but of course, had always hesitated given her reaction at a simple tearing of her skirt.
Obi-wan removed his knee from the bed as his gaze locked with Anakin’s darkened. With a rush of adrenaline, he grabbed Anakin’s calves and roughly pulled him towards the edge. A startled gasp left Anakin’s lips when Obi-wan pulled his body close to the edge of the bed. He manhandled the Baron and positioned him to lie on his side across the bed, with his tied hands resting beside his face. He made Anakin bend his knees and held them together. Even though he wanted to just ram his dick inside the young man in one go, he somehow abstained.
“Lift your upper thigh up a little. Yes, just like that. Create a gap between them. Good.” Anakin whose body was trembling all over followed his commands and Obi-wan slid his dick which was hard and dripping between the gap of this thighs.
Obi-wan bit his lips at the feeling. It felt good, god but he couldn’t wait to enter the man. Obi-wan kneeled next to Anakin’s buttocks as he took Anakin’s ankles in his hand. With his second hand then he grabbed his thighs pressing them closer to him. Then, Obi-wan started moving, fucking Anakin on his side and between his thighs.
With each thrust of his hip, soft whimpers fell out of the young Baron’s mouth.
The tight squeeze of his thighs felt good for some time but then Obi-wan wanted more.
“Open your thighs.” He said and then finally, in one go, pushed inside the young man’s prepped hole from the same position. And, finally a loud groan fell out of his lips.
A shrill cry pierced the air at the same time and then Obi-wan’s eyes fell on Anakin again, whose brows were knit together and face scrunched up.
“Don’t worry.” Obi-wan panted, as he stilled inside the tight warmth that was sucking him in when all he wanted to do was thrust hard and deep. “Give it time and you’ll start to feel better.”
Anakin’s eyes were closed and gasps fell out of his parted lips. His cock was still dribbling pre-cum and was still hard despite the pain.
Obi-wan started to move then. He started with slow, shallow thrusts to give the young man time to get used to the feeling of being filled. When Anakin’s face slackened and soft moans started to come out of his parted lips, Obi-wan knew that the pain had faded and that was when he upped the pace.
He never knew that bedding a man could feel this good. His chest heaved and grunts spilled out of him as he started to thrust harder and deeper inside the man.
The angle was good, however it wasn’t as deep as he wanted and so he switched the position.
He pulled out, and then grunted with his chest heaving steadily as he manhandled and repositioned Anakin for next position he had always wanted to try. With Anakin panting and laid on his back, and his tied wrists resting on his chest, he pulled Anakin so that his buttocks rested at the very edge of the bed. Then he raised Anakin’s legs and placed them on his shoulders and slowly with a grunt pushed himself deep inside the man again.
A pained whine fell from Anakin’s parted lips and then Obi-wan started thrusting again. From this angle he could see every little feeling flit across Anakin’s face who had his eyes squeezed shut. Whether it be pain, discomfort, pleasure, he saw it all.
“Open your eyes.” He grunted as he gave a quick, hard thrust, “Look at me, Baron. See what I’m doing to you.” Anakin opened his eyes and there they were, his hot tears which spilled from his eyes. Anakin looked stunning like this, broken and all his for the taking. Who knew when they had first met that the once despicable Baron could look like this, broken, vulnerable and remarkably beautiful.
“Do you like it Anakin?” Obi-wan grunted as he slowly retrieved his cock from the hot passage, his cock almost slipping out. “Do you like it when I pound my cock inside you?” Anakin only whined and arched his back at the sensation. “God, who knew you would be so hungry for a cock.” Obi-wan groaned and drove into Anakin again, in one hot, spine arching stroke. “Maybe the reason you were so insufferable all this time was because no one had fucked you so good and hard before. Am I right, Baron?”
Obi-wan couldn’t believe the crude words that were slipping from his mouth. All his life he had never talked to anyone like this, especially during coupling. Guess, it was indeed true. Anakin always managed to bring out the worst and the very base parts of him which Obi-wan had always suppressed and bottled up all his life. Whether it be anger, his yearning for violence and blood and even murder and now, his desire to break and claim a man, all for himself.
A sharp cry then left Baron’s pouty mouth and Obi-wan knew he had found that deep spot inside, which would soon push the young man over the edge. Obi-wan kept attacking that spot sans merci and Anakin arched his neck as wild shudders cascaded down his body.
A plethora of pleas fell from Anakin’s lips, begging him for something and every time Obi-wan paused and asked the man, what he wanted, he was only met with “more please, Count. Don’t stop. Please.”
Obi-wan was himself very close and suddenly, he leaned over Anakin’s body. He placed his arms around the outside of Anakin’s lower legs and near his head for support and gently leaned forward a little more pushing Anakin’s legs back further as he picked up his pelvis. This angle brought their faces close together and allowed Obi-wan to drive even deeper inside Anakin’s body.
Their hot breaths intermingled as Obi-wan continued to thrust inside Anakin and just one precise thrust later, Anakin’s head rolled back and a high pitched cry left his mouth. Obi-wan could feel Anakin’s cock pressed between them squirting and the wetness of his cum sticking between their bodies.
“Fuck.” Obi-wan groaned crudely as he got closer to the edge and started his frantic thrusting. He squeezed his eyes shut when his nerves started to tingle and jolt and a white hot feeling scalded them. A pained grunt and a deep thrust later, he was coming and emptying himself inside the young Baron.
When the black spots before his eyes cleared and he looked down below, the sight before him caused his brows to rise in a surprised arc.
The Baron lay unmoving below him with his eyes closed, and soft and even breaths leaving his parted lips.
He was clearly unconscious, and Obi-wan slowly detangled their bodies as he continued to gaze at the blacked out man.
The man had passed out after his orgasm.
Obi-wan released a heavy sigh and pushed himself off the bed.
His eyes then fell on the bedsheets and for the first time a twinge of pain shot through him at small drops of blood that had seeped into the bedsheet below. Even though it was only a few drops of blood, it still managed to cause a lump to form in his throat and constrict it.
First he gently freed the tied wrists from the belt and softly massaged the red welts that had formed on the pale skin of the wrists there. Then he gently pushed the unconscious Anakin on his front and observed the bruises on his back. Relief washed over him when he saw only minor cuts covering the bare back. None of the cuts were deep enough to scar the skin.
Obi-wan then padded to his washroom and grabbed a salve, an antibiotic lotion and a wash cloth. He slowly cleaned the back and after applying the antibiotic lotion, gently applied the salve. He then cleaned the dried cum on Anakin’s front and hefted the man bridal style in his arms and laid him down in the middle of the bed.
Suddenly their exchange from before flashed in his mind’s eye and he inhaled sharply.
“Do you love me still?”
“yes. Always.”
Obi-wan gazed mutely at the unconscious young man and covered his bare body with a quilt.
He then dressed haphazardly into his clothing and left the room. Slowly, as he made his way to another room in the house millions of thoughts raced through his mind, but it was only Hamlet’s words that Obi-wan grasped and repeated.
Come, the croaking raven does bellow for revenge.
Chapter 3: Comes animae
Notes:
Comes animae:- Soulmate
Mater Dolorosa :- sorrowful mother. used especially for depictions of the Virgin Mary grieving over her dead son.
{1}- The words used are english translation of "Dies irae" (Ecclesiastical Latin: [ˈdi.es ˈi.re]; "the Day of Wrath") which is a Latin chant first written by either Thomas of Celano of the Franciscans (1200–c.1265)[1] or Latino Malabranca Orsini (d. 1294), lector at the Dominican studium at Santa Sabina, in Rome.
Trigger Warning: Suicide.
This chapter was the hardest to write and of course since my story is inspired by Anna karenina, what happened in this chapter should not come as a surprise to many. Thank you all for all the lovely comments and kudos! I'm grateful for the love this story has recieved so far! <3
Chapter Text
Hamlet :
To be, or not to be, that is the question:
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles
And by opposing end them. To die—to sleep,
No more; and by a sleep to say we end
The heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks
That flesh is heir to: 'tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wish'd. To die, to sleep;
Padme
A fear had started as a mere dull feeling in the back of her mind whenever she had seen Anakin’s dull eyes of late, which uncannily remained either cast away or cast downward in her presence and which if ever did lock with her glimmered with no love for her. Now that fear, since that chilling night had turned into a full blown blaze and had reduced her to ashes. That fear had clawed at her heart repeatedly and squeezed it within its spindly fingers, squashing her heart with so much pressure that soon enough, it would burst.
Her entire body trembled at the thoughts which her fear would sinisterly whisper in her mind. Her fear would hiss into her mind that Anakin did not love her anymore. It would clack and spew about how Anakin, who she had given up everything for, would soon abandon her and as Anakin had averted his eyes when she had asked him if he did not lover her anymore and he had answered with an unfeeling apology rather than his declaration of love, her gripping fear had cackled in her mind.
Her fear had then toppled her sanity and had taken hold of her entire being. With fear, her uncurtailed fury had roared and she had raved. Delirious with fear, anger and pain she had repeatedly hit Anakin, demanding that he stop lying, for she knew he loved her and then her body unable to bear her utter anguish had fallen in the arms of her lover.
When she had woken up at morn, her fear had again seized her, for she had been left alone in that seedy, dilapidated place with no sign of her lover.
Padme had made sure to further lower the hood of her cloak as she had walked back that day, in order to properly conceal her face. Even though her reputation was already sullied, she knew that if she were spotted at such a place that too during the day, she would rank no higher in the eyes of society than a harlot. Although she knew that in the eyes of some she must already be equal to one.
However, along with her fear another feeling had started brewing within her. A desire to crush and destroy the one who had wedged himself between Padme and her lover.
Padme would not let anyone come between her and Anakin. She knew that through his cunningness and trickery, Obi-wan had succeeded in driving a wedge between her and Anakin. By stoking Anakin’s guilt, he had succeeded in tearing them apart.
However, Padme saw through everything clearly.
She would not let his trickery succeed. Ever.
And, so with her entire being thrumming with fury she made her way to her former house. With her chin raised high and her lips pressed in a thin line now she faced the mahogany doors.
She could hear firm footsteps getting closer towards the doors and titled her chin higher when at last they opened and revealed a surprised Albert, who with his mouth agape regarded her with wide eyes.
“L-lady Padme.” Albert exclaimed and then finally, when his shock abated the old butler lowered his head in reverence, “May I ask the purpose of your visit?”
“I have some important matters that I wish to discuss with the Count.” She said curtly and in a grim tone.
Hesitation flitted across Albert’s wizened face and then he spoke in a tight and strained voice, “My lady the Count is otherwise engaged. However, I would promptly inform—”
“Albert.” Padme interrupted at once. Her eyes darkened as a cloud of warning settled over her features and she continued in a cold and disapproving voice, “I would not have come here personally had the matter been of little importance. Therefore, I would urge you to take me to the Count at once.”
Albert looked like he wanted to argue as his mouth opened and closed uncertainly.
“Albert.” Padme stressed through her clenched teeth, “take me to my former husband at once.”
Resignation slackened the old man’s face which had earlier contorted with apprehension. “Very well, My lady.” Albert bowed his head and opened the door and finally, Padme went inside.
“Count is engaged in his room. I shall go and inform him of your arrival.” Albert said and was just about to leave when Padme spoke again. “No. I shall go see him myself. You may go now, Albert.”
Apprehension clouded over Albert’s droopy face again but he dwindled under Padme’s scalding stare.
“Very well, My lady.” He said and departed at last.
Padme strode with firm steps towards Obi-wan’s study which was connected to his room. Padme knew that because of the separation Obi-wan would never sleep in their shared room again. He must be sleeping in the room attached to his study.
This was it.
Everything had been leading towards this.
Padme had never wanted any of this to happen. She had always sought an amicable separation but her cunning ex-husband wanted none of it. He wanted her back, not because he loved her but because he wanted to save his name in the society. For the sake of his reputation he wanted to chain her again to his side and doom her to stay in the golden cage till her dying breath which he had specifically made for her and with his very hands.
The danger of freedom was better than the doomed security he offered wherein she would die bit by bit. Hence, when death would finally come with a scythe to her, it would already find her dead.
Lost in her musings and simmering anger, a quiet cry suddenly came through the slightly ajar door of the room attached to the study, interrupting her thoughts and halting her stride. With bated breath, she stood in the middle of the study and her heart thudded in her breast when a few more soft cries came through the door.
Padme’s eyes widened as it finally dawned on her. After all, she was no dolt, she knew what those soft whines and moans meant.
Her anger which had been simmering just moments prior suddenly set her entire being ablaze. Her dark eyes saw crimson as flames of her rage licked her skin all over, causing her face to grow hot and flush. Her jaw clenched as her scorching gaze focused on the slightly ajar door.
The absolute insolence of the man!
On one hand he was actively trying to cause a fissure to appear in her and Annie’s relationship and on the other he was already bedding another woman!
Oh, what a despicable and a diabolical man she had married!
So this was why Albert had been hesitant to let her in.
Oh, she was furious.
Furious.
A thought occurred to her which caused a sadistic thrill to bubble up within her. She thought about marching to that very room and wrenching the door open, which surely would cause that insolent man to bow his head in shame. However, she would not fall that far. Her former husband might not have any decency left in him but Padme was still very much an upstanding lady.
So instead she would quietly creep towards the door and see for herself the wench he was bedding.
Padme therefore lifted her skirt and creeped towards the slightly ajar door. She also made sure that her breaths remained soft and inaudible. With her heart hammering in her breast, she finally reached the door and closed her eyes since, now the moans were quite louder. She steeled herself and then opened her eyes and finally, peered through the small opening of the door which was ajar.
Padme felt a jolt surge through her body at what she saw. Her eyes wide in utter disbelief, her heart skipped a beat, a palpable pause which she felt reverberate through her breast. The jarring sight stunned her and rendered her immobile. Frozen, each muscle of her body was locked as she entered into a state of momentary paralysis.
Was this some nightmare?
Mayhaps a terrifying illusion her mind had conjured up?
For it could not be the truth.
No.
It had to be a nightmare but even so, how could her mind have conjured up something this inconceivable, this depraved and this shocking.
No.
No.
No.
Padme shook her head as her hand flew to her mouth, muffling an involuntary gasp. The wicked sight before her was so jarring that it sent shockwaves through her entire being.
In all of her imaginings, she could’ve never conjured up such a wicked scene. She knew that even in her nightmares she would’ve never come across such a depraved and blood curdling sight.
Therefore, it must be true. However, much she wanted it to not be.
Even though she wanted it to be a mere illusion, and she didn’t want to believe her eyes. She knew she had no choice. For truth was before her eyes, in all of its nakedness.
The love of her life, the one every fiber of her being longed for was in the arms of the very man who she utterly despised. Anakin, her beautiful Anakin was moaning in the arms of her former husband.
Revulsion rose deep within her as a surge of nausea twisted in the pit of her stomach.
Anakin, her Annie lay on his side on the bed facing the door while her former husband lay behind him. Obi-wan was biting into the flushed skin of Anakin’s neck from behind as he moved their joined bodies together in a rhythm. Merciful were the gods somewhat even as they tormented her with such a harrowing sight, since the white sheet covered their lower halves where Padme knew that they were joined.
A ripple of unease ran down her spine at the repugnant sight. The taste of bile in her throat was pungent as her stomach churned and her guts clenched in an involuntary reaction to the foul scene playing out before her eyes.
And yet.
Yet.
She couldn’t look away.
Her eyes unable to blink and look away stared. Transfixed with horror they kept looking at the two men together on the bed. Anakin with his face tilted back and utterly lost in the throes of passion had his eyes squeezed shut. His plush mouth was red as only breathy moans and Obi-wan’s name repeatedly spilled from it. With his body arching into the man behind him and that twitched at every brush of the other man’s hands Anakin looked nothing like the man Padme loved. He was not her Annie, the one who had been a brave, charismatic and virile youth she had fallen for. Whose magnetism she had been unable to resist and the one whose dark eyes had burned and yearned for her.
This was not her lover.
Her lover was dead.
Dead.
This man who was in front of her did wear the skin of her lover but he was not her lover.
And the diabolical man who was playing with the youth’s body like it were a mere instrument was truly the devil in the flesh of a man.
An inaudible painful yawp spilled from her being, the strong waves of which shattered her into bits. Her being resembled a broken glass from which shards fell when another screech which only she could hear resounded in her. Her soul was repeatedly screaming in agony at the loss of what she thought was her other half and Padme could do nothing to make it stop.
It was when Obi-wan grabbed the youth’s jaw and kissed him that Padme finally turned her eyes away. The sight had been so hellish that the urge to retch had clawed at her control. Suddenly the room felt colder, the very air thinning and turning chilly in response to her mounting revulsion. A visible shudder ran through her frame and she very slowly and deliberately started backing away from the hellish sight wanting desperately to just flee the scene.
And even as she stood a few feet away, her eyes again fell on the door to the study for what would be the last time, hoping for it to have just been a mirage but when she still saw the outlines of the two men moving together on the bed again and could still hear the blasted moans which made her want to rip her ears out, she felt her heart constrict tightly and painfully in her chest.
And, finally she picked up her skirt and with adrenaline pumping through her veins, she fled.
It was all a haze as her feet hurriedly clacked against the marble flooring of her former house. She could see in her periphery her former staff shocked at her state but all Padme could hear was a sharp, piercing cry in her soul that told her to run, run and run.
It yelled at her to run faster and faster and she did just that.
The mahogany doors were wrenched open by Albert, whose eyes were wide as they witnessed her running towards them and Padme paid no heed to anyone and just ran through the opened doors.
She ran towards her carriage and didn’t slow down her pace even when her feet hurt and at once, not waiting for her coachman she wrenched the door open and climbed inside.
“Take me home! Now! Now!” She yelled in between her pants. The coachmen looked visibly shaken by her state but immediately nodded his head and closed the door.
The world became a blur then as the carriage sped away from her former house which now resembled the devil’s abode.
Oh, it was diabolical.
Oh, God.
Why her? What had she done to deserve any of this?
Oh, God.
“Oh, Lady of Sorrows..” Padme’s trembling inner voice whispered in her mind as she tightly clutched the cross that was hanging around her neck, “Only you know truly the gut-wrenching pain that now blooms in my bosom. Incline your countenance to mine. Beloved Mother, so stricken with grief I’m suffering too much. Oh my heart breaks and I can feel it bleeding. Oh Most Merciful Mother, my soul shatters and screams in agony. Oh, I can’t bear it, I suffer tremendously.”
Padme wept as she brought the cross held between her trembling fingers closer to her lips. Her lips which were quivering and wet owing to the stream of her never-ending tears placed a gentle kiss on the cross.
“Oh Most Sorrowful Mother, you who stood by your Son as He agonized on the cross. By the sufferings of your life, by that sword of pain that pierced your heart, by your perfect joy in heaven, look down on me kindly as I kneel before you, sympathizing with your sorrows and offering you my petition with childlike trust. Oh Mother, please help me. It’s like my soul has been torn asunder. Oh Mother, help me. Help me. Amen.”
Padme opened her eyes which were bloodshot and rimmed with tears. Her vision was hazy as tears which stung now, flowed freely. Despite the prayer which had poured out of her tormented soul, her heart did not settle. It was hammering so hard against her ribcage that she could feel it beating through her chest as she placed her palm over it.
Oh she was doing so poorly.
The entire world spun as even drawing a breath became a labor for her. Along with her harsh quick breaths, a sick feeling was growing within her. She could feel her stomach churn and knot and a heaviness settle in her chest.
It was too much.
Oh, it was all too much.
Suddenly, the wicked scene flashed before her eyes again and her eyes widened. An involuntary, loud gasp spilled from her lips and it was then that she felt bile come up in her throat.
A wave of nausea engulfed her and she yelled at her coachman to stop the carriage. Her body jerked when coachman finally stopped the carriage. Without waiting for the coachman Padme wrenched the door open and climbed outside.
Dizziness and nausea struck her along with a loud roaring noise filling her ears and then she was emptying her stomach contents all over the sidewalk.
Slowly she lifted her head up and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. She grimaced at the foul and acidic taste that erupted in her mouth and jolted when she felt a gentle hand touch her shoulder. Padme faced her coachman who was looking at her with pity and worry ridden eyes.
“My lady we should go to the hospital immediate—” Her coachman said but Padme at once cut him off and shook her head as she spoke in a hoarse and weak voice, “No. Take me home. Please.”
Her coachman looked reluctant but at last acquiesced and then started to help her towards the carriage.
However, it was then that Padme finally took in her surroundings and it caused her heart to drop.
Faces, so many faces.
All ugly, all twisted.
Lips curled with disgust,
They looked at her with their noses turned up,
As if she were the filthiest thing their eyes had ever seen.
And Padme felt the entire world go still.
All of her life, Padme had always had eyes rove over her in envy, admiration and enrapture. She had been greeted with hostility, disagreeableness and even disapproving stares however this was the very first time that people looked at her with utter revulsion written all over their faces. And, that sent a jolt through her entire body.
Frozen and in a state of temporary paralysis she beheld the damning eyes when a wicked voice then sinisterly whispered in her mind, “Day of wrath and doom impending! David’s word with Sibyl’s blending, Heaven and earth in ashes ending! Oh, what fear man’s bosom rendeth, When from Heaven the Judge descendeth, On whose sentence all dependeth. When the Judge his seat attaineth, And each hidden deed arraigneth, Nothing unavenged remaineth.”{1}
“But I have done nothing wrong…” Padme muttered in a soft whisper as she still stood in a daze.
That very voice, unrelentingly continued to sinisterly whisper. It’s hissing sound dripping with venom continued, “ Wondrous sound the trumpet flingeth; Through earth’s sepulchers it ringeth; All before the throne it bringeth. Death is struck, and nature quaking, All creation is awakening, to its Judge an answer making. When the wicked are confounded, doomed to flames of woe unbounded…”{1}
Padme still in state of trance shook her head slightly.
No. She was not wicked.
She had done nothing wrong.
It will be them who will be sentenced to burn for eternity.
Leviticus 18:22— Thou shalt not lie with mankind, as with womankind: it is abomination.
Oh, it will be them who will be sentenced to acrid flames not her.
“ Seventh Commandment, “Thou shalt not commit Adultery.”” That same wicked voice retorted promptly and it was then that an inaudible, blood curdling shriek sounded from within her soul which jolted her from her stupor.
No.
No.
No.
No.
She didn’t do anything wrong! Was loving someone a sin?
No.
She was not a wicked woman. She didn’t do anything wrong. The only wrong thing she had done was marry someone who she knew wasn’t her soulmate.
Anakin was the half to her whole, her true soulmate who she had been searching for her whole life.
Padme’s eyes widened when that sinister voice snickered at her musings and immediately, the jarring sight of what she had witnessed before flashed before her eyes. The sight was just as hellish and revolting, however, this time it made her physically convulse and she pushed at her coachman, putting some distance between them.
She looked around her again and it was as if she was surrounded by wicked, hideous beasts rather than humans. Their faces had somehow become even more ugly and their eyes narrowed into slits were entirely black as they regarded her.
The world tilted for a moment and Padme felt her feet stumble. A sudden sick feeling took hold of her and she found a hand steadying her. When at last the dizziness spell passed and her vision became clear , a surge of fear then rose within her when again she was greeted by the hideous faces of beasts rather than men. Fear suffocated her and terrified she swatted the hand that was steadying her. Her heart thudded in her chest when she looked at the entity that had grabbed her and she at once started backing away.
Was she hallucinating? What was happening?!
Oh God. They all look so wicked with their black, lifeless eyes and ugly, twisted grimaces.
Has God truly abandoned her? Was she truly so wicked to now be surrounded by beasts? Were they going to take her away?
No. She was not wicked.
No.
Padme felt her body convulse again when suddenly, loud and evil cackle resounded in the folds of her mind. The cackle was so demonic and so spine chilling that painful groans spilled from her lips.
No.
No.
No.
“Day of wrath and doom impending! David’s word with Sibyl’s blending, Heaven and earth in ashes ending! Oh, what fear man’s bosom rendeth, When from Heaven the Judge descendeth, On whose sentence all dependeth. When the Judge his seat attaineth, And each hidden deed arraigneth, Nothing unavenged remaineth.” The same sinister voice started whispering those terrifying words again. They like a broken record kept replaying and replaying until finally Padme grabbed her head with both of her hands and started shaking her head.
She was delirious and something in her propelled her to pick her skirt up and run and run and run.
Far away from the beasts and the voice that wouldn’t stop whispering.
No. She was not a wicked woman. She had done no wrong.
Suddenly, her former husband’s face flashed before her eyes again.
“Padme..”
Padme turned and looked at the Count who looked like he was disintegrating right before her eyes.
He looked frail, like he would shatter into a million pieces any moment. His eyes glistened with unshed tears, a shimmering pool of his grief. Padme felt a twinge of pain at the sight that her husband made. He was no weak man, after all he had fought many battles for the king and Country and had seen harrowing things but as he stood with his shoulders drooped and the corners of lips pulled down, he looked like he would break any minute.
“Think of Ivan.” His voice had dropped an octave and was gritty as he continued, “Think about our family. It would be so hard on him.”
“Padme, don’t do this. I beg you.” He looked utterly distraught as he pleaded her.
“I’m sorry, Obi-wan.” Her voice cracked as she continued, “I didn’t wish for this to happen but I love him. I don’t think I would be able to live without him.”
At those words Obi-wan did shatter.
A lone tear finally trickled down his cheek.
Padme’s eyes widened at the sight. Obi-wan had never shed a tear before and in all of their years together, especially in front of her. He had always appeared stoic and had been a beacon of strength no matter how distressing a situation was but now he looked broken.
Padme took a shaky breath in and then another memory flashed before her eyes again.
“Wilt thou have this man to thy wedded husband, to live together after God's ordinance in the holy estate of Matrimony? Wilt thou obey him, and serve him, love, honour, and keep him, in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all other, keep thee only unto him, so long as ye both shall live?”
Padme looked at the handsome face of her lover before her, her soon to be husband. She could see clearly the love he had for her. His blue eyes shined with his love for her which she knew to be as deep as the depths of the ocean and as limitless as the heavens above, and Padme knew this because Obi-wan had never let a chance slip to vocalize his intense feelings for her.
“I, do.” She said and smiled at the joy that erupted within her.
“Wilt thou have this woman to thy wedded wife, to live together after God's ordinance in the holy estate of Matrimony? Wilt thou love her, comfort her, honour, and keep her, in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all other, keep thee only unto her, so long as ye both shall live?”
“I, do.” Obi-wan said in a rough voice. However, it was what she saw on her husband’s face that made her breath hitch.
Obi-wan wasn’t smiling rather his lips were pressed together in a thin line. His blue eyes which had been shinning a moment prior now looked darker. His jaw was tense and Padme jerked when he suddenly tightened his hold on her hands while they stood before the priest.
His intense gaze unblinkingly bore into her and Padme felt the hair on her neck rise in response.
“Repeat after me.” The priest said, “I, Padme Amidala. take thee Obi-wan Kenobi. to my wedded husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love, cherish, and to obey, till death us do part, according to God's holy ordinance; and thereto I give thee my troth.”
And, Padme repeated every word, however, this time with her heart racing as she gazed into Obi-wan’s dark gaze. It was Obi-wan’s turn and he repeated the priest’s words as well but with so much intensity and feeling that it left Padme breathless.
“I, Obi-wan Kenobi. take thee Padme Amidala. to my wedded wife, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death us do part, according to God's holy ordinance; and thereto I plight thee my troth.”
When before she had always felt Obi-wan’s love through his gentle caresses and beautiful words, this time though she could feel his intense love, which somehow evoked fear in her as well. Obi-wan had said those words in a somber manner and with so much vulnerability as if his love was causing him physical ache. He sounded like he had been wounded by love, pierced right through.
It was frightening to her somehow that he loved her this deeply.
Padme who had been running all this time suddenly stopped. Her chest was heaving as she breathed in large gulps of air and slowly took in her surroundings again. Her eyes raised, she saw the entry gate to the train station before her and somehow she felt herself uncannily drawn to it. She picked up her skirt and entered the station.
The station was full of people and despite the loud cacophony of indistinguishable sounds, Padme was unfazed. She felt lost as she moved through the station, bumping into several in the way. Cold and icy air kissed her cheeks and mist wafted through the air, shrouding the ceiling of the station.
Her mind however, lit up the back of her eyes again with another recent memory which caused a sharp, stabbing pain to shoot through her.
“Mommy, where are we going? And why didn’t daddy come with us?” Ivan’s troubled eyes locked with hers and Padme felt her stomach plummet under the heavy burden of guilt which rose in her.
“Mommy and daddy are going to start living separately my child and you’re going to live with me. Don’t worry son, everything will get better soon.” Padme said in a sweet voice as she ran her fingers through her baby’s hair.
A sudden and unexpected spark of anger glimmered in her son’s eyes who then flinched away from her touch, “No! I don’t want to live away from daddy! I want to go back home! Take me back home!”
Padme’s brows shot up in surprise as she looked at her son, who for the very first time was looking back at her with anger written all over his face. Ivan with his hardened jaw and flushed cheeks resembled his father in that moment and Padme felt uneasiness tighten her chest.
“I want to go back! I want to see daddy! Take me home!” Ivan yelled in a shrill, angry voice and Padme felt her own jaw clench in response. Anger welled up in her chest and irritation pricked her when Ivan continued to yell at her and suddenly she did something that in all of her life she could’ve never conceived of doing. In a fit of anger, she raised her hand and landed a stinging slap on her child’s face.
A sudden, sharp silence filled the air as Padme’s hand flew to her mouth, muffling an involuntary gasp.
Oh god.
What has she done?
Ivan’s face which had turned away from the force, slowly faced her and a sharp twinge of pain shot through her chest when she saw tears spilling from his eyes.
“I hate you, mommy. I hate you!” He burst out in a choked voice as tears ran down his cheeks.
Padme’s own eyes grew teary and she pulled the boy into a tight embrace, laying his head against her chest. “I’m sorry baby! Forgive your mommy, please. I’m sorry!” Padme cried out as she swayed their bodies together. “I’m sorry. Mommy loves you a lot.” Padme said and placed a loving kiss on his forehead. “I promise you. Everything will get better baby. Don’t worry.”
Since then Ivan grew distant from her. He became withdrawn and only spoke when spoken to. Their exchanges became cold and impersonal which was eating away at her. All her attempts at reconciliation had failed repeatedly. No matter how much she tried, her son continued to move further and further away from her and she could nothing about it but bear it all, hoping one day that things would get better between them again and he would proudly show his drawing to her again or pester her with a number of perplexing questions.
However, she had anticipated this, after all Obi-wan had been a great father to their son. He had been loving to point of coddling their son too much, which had led towards their son becoming as stubborn as a mule.
Oh, but it had been nice. The three of them together.
It had been peaceful.
And then Anakin had shown up, turning her entire world upside down.
“I don’t know what I have done to please the God so much.” Anakin’s hair was drenched in the chilly rain and several droplets of rain ran in rivulets down his handsome face, “for Him to have blessed me with you. God, has bestowed on me the loveliest of His gifts. I’m so fortunate to have found you, my love.” Anakin whispered against her lips. Hot air from his lovely mouth brushed against her trembling, wet lips and Padme felt the rein on her self-control snap. She didn’t care that it was unseemly for a woman to make the first move and immediately pressed their lips together.
She had known then as they had kissed that she was doomed. The press of their lips lighted such a raging fire in her that she knew could never be extinguished. Only death could extinguish the fire of love which was flaming in her soul.
“Watch where you’re going madam! Ah.. lady Padme?”
Padme’s eyes flickered to her right and she was greeted by the shocked face of Lady Elizaveta. Her eyes in wide circles looked Padme up and down, “Lady Padme? Is something amiss?” The blasted old woman asked, her voice lilted with faux worry.
Padme simply despised the woman. When in old years one should be solely devoted to God, Elizaveta was solely devoted to gossip.
Padme simply ignored her and started walking away from the woman. However, as she had departed she had caught the old woman’s face contorting in distaste in her periphery.
Padme must look abysmal then.
Slowly, her feet carried her through the station while her life continued to flash before her eyes. There were moments which she loved and then there were moments which she despised. She saw her youthful days, when there were no worries. When like the beautiful summer, her life was wonderfully lit and bright and then her teen years which were as confusing and chaotic as the rain of the monsoons. And then came autumn accompanied by Obi-wan with whom her new life began. Her life with Obi-wan had been peaceful but also dreary and sullen like the winters.
And Annie had been her spring. He had brought colors back into her life. Her life before Annie had felt still and then with Anakin, her new and her last season of life had begun. It had been short but oh, it had been beautiful. She had felt life bloom and revive within her again. She hadn’t known how dead and suffocated she had been prior to Anakin.
However, now everything was ruined.
Her Annie was dead and so was she.
The powerful and deep sound of the train horn then suddenly pierced the air as Padme stood on the platform, facing the tracks.
A sense of calm then erupted beneath her skin. No voices were whispering in her head anymore and no memories flashed before her eyes. When a moment ago she had been delirious, now only peace like the waves of an ocean lapped at her repeatedly, touching her, drowning her and taking away the dread from her bones. She became light and for the first time since that harrowing sight which had caused her immense pain, her heart settled so much so that she couldn’t even feel it pulsating within her. It was as if her heart had been ripped out of her flesh.
She had never known how utterly peaceful dying truly was.
The train was coming at a fast pace now. Padme turned her face to the right and she could see a bright yellow light penetrate the cloudy, dense mist that wafted through the air and then the train horn again blared through the air, for the second time as a warning to the people to stay behind the lines.
It was getting closer and closer and closer.
And, Padme stepped away from the line and stepped closer to the edge.
She could see the train through the dense mist now and to her it looked inviting when to others it may have been frightening.
She knew what she must do and to her surprise, she was not scared.
This time the sound of horn was so powerful and thunderous as it pierced the air for the third time and then Padme closed her eyes as she took the hold of the cross around her neck.
“O most holy Virgin, Mother of our Lord Jesus Christ: by the overwhelming grief you experienced when you witnessed the martyrdom, the crucifixion, and death of your divine Son, look upon me with eyes of compassion. Look down with a mother's tenderness and pity on me. O Mother Most Merciful forgive me. I know not if what I have done is a sin. I may not have loved wisely Dear Mother but I loved from the heart and I intended no harm. However, I can’t go on Dear Mother. I can’t. I suffer too much and so forgive me, for I wish to suffer no longer and take me in your arms just as you had your dying Son. Save me.”
Padme prayed with her words coming out in the form of a soft, trembling whisper.
She took a deep inhale for what she knew would be the last time and with tears running down her cheeks she leapt before the moving train towards her death, towards an end to her suffering and towards Mater Dolorosa.
Anakin
“Baron Skywalker.”
Anakin nodded his head as he took in the sight of the lady who was standing in the middle of his drawing room. The lady had all but barged in despite Mikhail’s insistence that Anakin was occupied and couldn’t take any social calls. He had even informed the lady that they would be leaving the city permanently which had according to Mikhail made her even more incensed about making his acquaintance.
The lady, from the way she stood and from the silk she wore was clearly of an upper-class standing. Her hair was done up in an intricate but a delicate manner and pearls encircled her thin neck. Her face however, had hostility written all over it. Her lips were pressed in a thin line and her jaw was tense. Her eyebrows were pulled together and Anakin could sense anger radiating from her as well.
“I’m Padme’s elder sister, Edwina Ivanova.” The lady said in a grim voice.
Anakin’s eyes widened and he felt his stomach plummet.
Did Padme know that he was leaving? But Anakin had been utterly careful to make sure that the news of his departure never reached any ears.
“And what may I do for you miss?” Anakin asked as he tugged at his collar nervously and moistened his dry lips.
Edwina’s dark eyes grew even more darker and grim as she regarded him. Her eyes continued to flicker across Anakin’s face, seemingly looking for something. Finally, after a drawn out and uncomfortable silence she spoke, locking eyes with him, “So you don’t know.” She said matter-of- factly.
Anakin just titled his head to the side in puzzlement.
For the first time since their interaction began Edwina’s eyes softened a little. She broke their eye contact and faced the fireplace.
“I thought you knew, but it is clear from your reaction that you know nothing of the ill event that has just transpired.” She said with her voice lilted with sadness.
Anakin felt dread settle in his chest and found himself bracing for what he could already tell would an unpleasant news.
“My sister is no more. Padme jumped to her death in front of the moving train yesterday. I’m surprised you don’t know since its everywhere in the morning papers. Her death has been an utter shock to our family. Her body was in such a horrid state that even Obi-wan could’ve never identified her, had it not been for the cross that she wore around her neck which he had gifted to her upon returning from Chatres Cathedral. Since, there had already been so much scandal when she was alive, our family insisted on her funeral being a private affair. Our family also did not wish to acknowledge your involvement with her and therefore, tasked me to request you to abstain from turning up at her funeral.”
Anakin stopped breathing as his entire body went rigid with terror. Every word out of Edwina’s mouth felt like a physical blow to his person. A sickening wave of emotions he couldn’t even name rushed through his body which was rendered paralyzed because of the startling piece of news. A frightening stillness descended upon him whereupon he couldn’t feel anything, couldn’t feel his heart beat in his chest, couldn’t hear anything, couldn’t even lift a finger and the world appeared to him cloudy and enveloped by mist. Edwina became a blurry dark figure and Anakin stumbled back as his entire body was rocked by the sheer force of the shocking news.
Edwina then turned back to face him and her face softened as she took in his miserable state. “I’m sorry.” She said softly.
Anakin was still reeling from the news of Padme’s death.
Padme’s death.
Padme was dead.
Padme killed herself.
She was dead.
Dead.
Dead.
His lips parted in surprise as he felt a tingling sensation run down his spine which spread like wildfire when his mind formed a picture of Padme leaping before a moving train towards her death. A jolt then surged through his body when another image flashed before his eyes in which Count Obi-wan, who to Anakin’s pleasant surprise had unexpectedly kissed him and embraced him the day Padme had killed herself, was looking at the mangled remains of his former wife.
Count Obi-wan.
Oh God.
Oh God.
“I should take my leave.” Edwina said, her eyes no longer dark with hostility instead were brimming with pity for him. “Padme was staying with me after her separation and as a result, was quite candid with me about the whole affair. I knew how much she loved you, Anakin and from your reaction, it’s clear to me that you cared for her deeply too. However, her action to take her own life was not something I could’ve ever predicted. When I was coming here, I must confess I was still extremely puzzled by her decision but when I arrived at your door and your servant informed me of what you had planned I finally understood everything. I can see now Anakin, that you were trying to do the right thing by leaving.” A small, sad smile appeared on Edwina’s face as she continued, “Therefore, do not blame yourself for her passing. My sister loved you that much was true but she loved you to such an extent that she lost herself entirely because of it, and became senseless and irrational. Her love became her undoing.”
Edwina then approached him slowly with her eyes shinning with unshed tears and her face contorted in sympathy. She lightly pressed his shoulder and finally, a lone tear spilled from her eye. “I’m sorry. I know you would’ve liked to say goodbye to her, however, I have no say in the matter. Do heed my request Anakin. It is for your own good, since my family isn’t kind or forgiving. Take care, child. May God be with you.”
The retreating back of Edwina became blurry and Anakin realized that his eyes were full of tears. His shock hadn’t subsided at all and his mouth remained shut, unable to form any words that lay trapped within his mind. As he tried to process what was happening, his brows pulled low and his hand drifted to his mouth.
Padme…
But why…
“I can’t do it..I c-can’t..I would die without you Annie. I can’t live without you. You’re everything to me. Please… Please…”
“Don’t leave me please.”
Suddenly Padme’s last words to him echoed in his mind and his heart thudded in his chest. His hand trembled uncontrollably as he raised it to his face and covered his eyes. A sharp pain shot through him, piercing him on the inside with brutal precision and his breath hitched, caught in his throat.
God.
How did she know he was leaving?
How?
How?
“It was me.” Anakin’s heart almost leapt out of his chest at the voice of his mother who was standing at the door to the drawing room. Her wizened face was grim as she looked at Anakin. It was clear that she had heard the entire conversation between Anakin and Edwina because she had that knowing look on her face. It was as if she knew what he was thinking. “I had sent the letter to Countess Jobal Naberrie, apologizing to her for the entire inappropriate affair and informing her of our decision to leave the city permanently. I had asked for her forgiveness on your behalf and wrote that we shall trouble them no longer. Lady Padme must’ve come to know of our decision from her and that must’ve prompted her to do what she had done.”
His mother slowly walked towards him and placed her hand on his cheek, “So if you want to blame someone for her passing, blame me son.” Anakin who was weeping miserably shook his head and placed his hand on his mother’s which was stroking his cheek now, gently. “If I hadn’t sent that letter, Lady Padme would’ve still been alive.”
“No” Anakin croaked as his throat constricted, “No. It is my fault. I should’ve listened to you. You had warned me repeatedly, mother. This is my fault. I caused her death. If I hadn’t pursued her, If I hadn’t torn her away from her family because of my selfishness, she would still be alive. I killed her, mother. I did this.”
Anakin was crying; too weak to stay upright alone he pulled his mother into a tight embrace.
“No, my son. You were doing the right thing. Yes, initially you were blinded by your passions but when you finally realized your mistake, you tried to rectify it. You didn’t do it my son. If you must blame someone, blame me.” His mother said in a broken tone as she returned his embrace and repeatedly kissed his wet cheeks. “I should’ve been wise and not sent those missives informing others of our departure. In fact, I was penning one to Count Obi-wan just before the arrival of Lady Edwina.”
Count Obi-wan.
Anakin jolted and his entire body tensed at the thought of the Count.
God, he must go to the Count at once.
At once!
Oh, what distress he must be in right now! To have to go and identify the mangled dead body of his wife who he had loved once, who was the mother to his son! God what an absolutely horrible state he must be in right now!
Anakin must go to him at once! The thought of his loved one, who was the other half of his soul, his comes animae suffering, caused him agony. He couldn’t even conceive the utter anguish that the Count must be in.
“I must go.” He muttered as he pulled away from his mother who had a puzzling look on her face.
“Go where, son?” She asked with a frown on her face.
“To the Count. He must be in so much pain. I have to go.” He said and immediately started running towards the door to the drawing room.
“Son! Listen to me! Don’t! Sto—”
His mother’s voice faded and Anakin didn’t even register her words for only one man dominated his consciousness, his thoughts, and everything else faded into the background.
“Mikhail! Ready the carriage immediately! We must make haste to Count Obi-wan’s house! At once!” Anakin yelled and hurriedly climbed down the stairs of his house in order to reach the carriage.
Anakin could feel his heart pounding in his chest and stumbling over its own rhythm. An image flashed before his eyes, of him in the arms of the severe man who had the morning after their torrid tryst the night before, while Anakin had slept, climbed into the bed behind him. Anakin had woken to the feeling of scorching arousal thrumming through his body. He had felt the thickness and the strength of the body behind him as it had twisted Anakin to it’s liking. When the night before the Count had been dominating and rough, that morning he had been indulging and gentle to a torturous degree. Anakin’s entire body had become so sensitive to the Count’s touch that even a gentle touch of the other’s rough fingers had sent shockwaves throughout his body and then there had been that kiss which had stunned him. Anakin’s eyes had widened initially when the Count had locked their mouths. His mouth had fallen open and then the Count had slowly and tortuously licked inside his mouth. Anakin had been so stupefied that he hadn’t returned the kiss. The Count had then broken the kiss and chuckled against his lips. His flaming breath had brushed against Anakin’s lips as his eyes had crinkled. “Don’t be so shocked, Baron. After all, you do have a terribly inviting mouth.” And then the Count had continued to kiss him as he had moved their body to his favorable rhythm.
After their tryst, the Count had disappeared and then a staff member had come to inform him that the Count had gone to work. Anakin had then dressed himself up and abashedly returned home. However, upon returning he had felt empty. After all, he knew that he would never meet the Count again. He had sullenly then started packing his things again even as his mind, ever the torturer kept replaying those moments. He would feel a ghost of a kiss on his neck and his entire body would start to shiver. He would feel his cuts in the back sting and unforgiving arousal would engulf him. He knew as he had packed his things that he would forever suffer, carrying these memories with him. The thought that he might never see the Count again frightened him. Numbness had taken hold of him as his entire body grew listless because of the terrible sadness that had repeatedly gnawed at him.
However, his resolve to leave had never wavered because he knew it was the right thing to do. After all, Count’s happiness was everything to him and he knew that nothing would make the Count happier than being reunited with his wife and son.
And, then Padme had killed herself.
Anakin felt his body jerk when the carriage came to a halt pulling him out of his musings. He swallowed as the carriage door opened and he looked at the enormous gates of the Count’s house. Anakin climbed out and made his way to the guard man, who immediately recognized him and opened the gates.
He started walking towards the house with dread churning and twisting his stomach into knots. As he got closer to the mahogany doors, his steps became slow and heavy. His legs moved slowly and his feet dragged as if something was weighing him down.
He grasped the door knocker and slammed it against the doors and with bated breath awaited the arrival of Albert.
The old man showed up and this time was not surprised to see him. His face which was already covered with deep furrows and lines seemed to have aged even more. The old man looked tired and drained. He simply nodded and opened the door further to admit Anakin.
Anakin inclined his head in return and then, a sense of urgency engulfed him. He with quick steps, briskly walked towards the study room. He knew that he would find the Count there.
And when he arrived at the door to the study and saw the doors ajar his pulse picked up. Anakin slowly moved closer to the door. He then grasped the door handle to open it further and cursed in his mind when he found that his grip was slippery on the handle. Sweat dripped on his brow and at last he opened the door to reveal a sight so heartbreaking that Anakin’s face contorted with pain.
Count Obi-wan was sitting on a chair and was looking outside the open windows. He appeared so still that for a moment he resembled a hollow statue rather than a person. His eyes didn’t even blink as they continued to gaze outside. Anakin’s eyes fell on the ground and he saw two empty whiskey bottles scattered on the carpet and then he saw a table beside the chair where almost six burned cigar butts lay haphazardly with ashes strewn over.
Sharp pain pierced through him at the sight and Anakin gripped the door handle tightly to contain the cry that threatened to slip from his lips.
God.
What should he do?
What should he say?
He felt so lost.
It was his doing after all.
He had destroyed the lives of an entire family because of his irrational and foolish infatuation.
He had destroyed the life of his comes animae, his soulmate and the love of his life.
There were people who died and killed for the one they loved and then there was Anakin, who had ended up tormenting the one he loved.
God.
Oh, god.
Slowly Anakin entered the room and walked towards the seated Count, who continued to stay seated and gaze outside as if he hadn’t heard Anakin. Anakin knew the Count heard him because the silence had been deafening prior to his coming and Anakin’s loud footsteps sharply pierced the air shattering it.
Anakin faced the Count at last and it stung terribly when the Count continued to ignore him.
Slowly, he lowered himself to the floor. His eyes flickered across the older man’s face. The Count looked numb. His face was deadpan and stony. No emotions flitted across it as his empty eyes continued to look at nothing outside.
“Count…” Anakin spoke in a hoarse voice, breaking the stifling silence that hung heavy in the room. “I- I-” He stuttered miserably and then swallowed nervously as he continued, “I-I’m sorry…about…” Sweat dotted his forehead and Anakin drew in a sharp breath for he found his throat constricting around the name that was at the tip of his tongue. He looked at the Count, who was still not acknowledging his presence and then after lowering his gaze continued in a pained voice, “ I-I’m sorry about..P-Padme. I-I didn’t know. I-I hadn’t seen the morning papers. Edwina Ivanova came a-and told me what happened. I-I don’t know why she did this. Padme ..I..” Anakin cursed mentally at the jumbled sentences that spilled from his mouth. However, he knew that if he didn’t say anything now then he would forever regret it and so he continued, “I-I was planning on leaving the city forever, I-I that’s why I came that night. In order to seek your forgiveness for the last time. We were making our last preparations when Edwina Ivanova came. I had no intention to continue to cause you further pain and suffering. Hence, I had a-asked Padme to go back to you. I told her that you would accept her with open arms after all, you are a just and a forgiving man.”
Anakin looked up and his heart shattered when the Count continued to remain unresponsive.
“C-Count. I don’t know why she did this. I’m s-sorry.” Deep sorrow and pain bloomed in his chest and tears pricked his eyes. He choked on a sob and tears started trailing down his face. His misery grew by the minute as Count continued to stay impassive and cold. He lowered his head and suddenly, a strong yearning rose in him to touch the other man, to feel the heat of his body. And so Anakin buried his head against the Count’s leg. He rubbed his wet face against the clothing of the Count’s pants. The expensive clothing grazed against his wet cheeks and it was then that his dam of emotions opened and Anakin started to weep miserably.
“Please…. Please..” Anakin croaked in a broken voice, “ Please.. say something. Please, Count. At least look at me. Just please…”
Anakin continued to cry with his face buried against the Count’s thigh and the Count unmoving, continued to gaze outside.
After what felt like an eternity, a rough and gravelly voice reached his ears and his eyes widened.
“Just leave.” Anakin at once looked up and gawked at the older man, who still continued to face the windows as he spoke, “Don’t ever return. Have mercy on us and leave. You’ve done enough. Just leave.”
Anakin recoiled from the man in horror. Count’s words akin to a knife stabbed him repeatedly, wounding his flesh. Gut wrenching pain, the kind he had never experienced before usurped him and Anakin’s hand flew to his chest involuntary with his fingers digging through his clothing.
No more words spilled from the Count’s mouth and Anakin took a shaky breath in.
Of Course.
He shouldn’t be surprised at all.
He deserved this.
He deserved this torment and more.
It was all his fault after all.
Slowly, Anakin stood up from the ground. He wiped his tears with the back of his hand and hungrily took in the sight of the Count for what he knew would be the very last time. His eyes rove over the auburn locks that messily fell on the Count’s forehead. His blue eyes which currently looked dead and empty. His pink lips that Anakin had had the pleasure of tasting. His handsome beard, his strong hands. His eyes traced his soulmate’s every part and committed it to his memory forever. Anakin thanked the god that he had stolen a portrait of the Count furtively before leaving earlier, because the thought of forgetting his soulmate’s face simply made his insides turn.
I love you forever and ever more, comes animae.
Anakin whispered in his mind as he gazed at the Count.
Always.
And, then he turned and walked away without glancing back.
This was his punishment for what he had done.
Fate had doomed him to a life of suffering, a life of torment where he would forever yearn for his soulmate and his soulmate would forever despise him.
And, so he would forever feel incomplete and hollow.
This shall be his punishment, his cross to bear till the end of his life.
Chapter 4: Mea amor
Notes:
Thank you so much for all your lovely comments and kudos!<3 I hope you guys enjoy this chapter!<3
Te Amo: I love you.
Mea amor: My love.
Chapter Text
Well, heaven forgive him! and forgive us all! Some rise by sin, and some by virtue fall: Some run from brakes of ice, and answer none: And some condemned for a fault alone.
-William Shakespeare.
Albert
“Take care of him, Albert. My son might appear brave, but oh..he has a frail heart.”
Countess Kenobi’s words echoed again in Albert’s mind for what would be nth time. She had uttered them to him on her death bed while Albert had held her skeletal hand within his own trembling ones. He had promised her that he would protect the Count but clearly he had failed at this one simple task tremendously.
Ever since the utterly shocking and tragic death of Lady Padme, Count had for the large part remained mute. After being subjected to the gruesome sight of his former wife’s mangled corpse, the Count had shut himself in his study, refusing to take any calls. He had only come out to greet his son, who had run into his arms, wailing. After that, the Count would only talk to his son and soon after retire to his study.
Every time Albert had intruded on the other man for some reason or another, he would always be greeted with the same unpleasant sight. He would always find the Count sat in his chair doing nothing but continuously gazing outside.
And, every time deep sorrow would pierce Albert’s heart.
Albert knew that Count was grieving but it was utterly worrisome, for the Count hadn’t shed a tear since the news was first broken to him. The only instance when Albert had seen the Count close to tearing up was when he had embraced a crying Ivan. However, then also Albert hadn’t seen any tears trailing down his master’s cheeks.
And, then that Baron had come.
When Albert had seen the crestfallen Baron leave with his head downcast and shoulders slumped, he had known then that the Count had continued to remain stony and impervious.
It was frightening and he knew he couldn’t do anything about it.
However, as days went on, Albert would continue to see the haunting wraith of Lady Padme running towards him, whenever he would close the doors. An icy chill would freeze his blood and only when the wraith would vanish, would his blood start to move in his veins again.
Mayhaps it was his own mind’s conjuring.
Nonetheless, continually witnessing that haunting sight cemented in him the fact that Lady Padme must’ve seen the Count and the Baron together. Nothing else could explain her extreme distress in that moment.
He had himself been stupefied when he had gone to wake the Count that day and had seen the naked Baron lying in Count’s bed instead. What had been even more shocking was the rather uncomfortable fact that was relayed to him by the staff that the Count had gone to the study again in the morning. So when Lady Padme had appeared demanding to see the Count, Albert had known, oh he had known what would happen but he had hoped and prayed that maybe God would bless him and prevent the Lady from seeing the unsavory dalliance between her former husband and her lover.
However, from the Lady’s reaction it was clear what had happened but even he could’ve never foreseen the lady taking such drastic measures.
Albert though knew what he must do to protect his Count and so, he had forbidden his staff from ever mentioning Lady Padme’s unbidden visit to anyone, especially the Count. If word ever reached him that someone had done so, then as he had threatened to the staff, Albert would ensure that hell would rain on them. Not only would they be ousted from their employment but also he would ensure that they would never be able to obtain employment anywhere in the city. His threats had worked and so far, the Count remained unaware of his former wife’s visit.
Albert had also written a missive to Lady Edwina, who must’ve known about Lady Padme’s visit since she had resided with the former during the period of separation. In his missive he had pleaded to the Lady, about how the Count who was already distraught and in insurmountable agony would be startled by the news and would find some way to blame himself for the unfortunate incident. He had stated that on the day when Lady Padme had visited, she had looked furious and delirious when she had demanded to see her former husband. He stated further that her state had troubled him immensely and so he had lied to the Lady of him not being at home and as a result had turned her away.
Prior to this Albert had never lied in his life but for the sake of the Count, who he loved akin to a son he was willing to compromise even his morality, which was everything for him.
Alas, he hoped that his efforts would bear fruit and at least, in this the Count would be spared.
After all, if the Count were to ever find out that on the day when Lady Padme had jumped to her death, she had also come to the house, Albert knew that whatever little remained of the Count put together would crumble and he would be propelled towards a lifetime of ruin. The Count would not be able to bear that news, after all he was a clever man and would soon enough deduce the truth. He would then blame himself for Lady Padme’s decision and would live a life encumbered by his terrible conclusion in which he was the one who had pushed the Lady to her death.
And, Albert knew he would never be able to abide seeing the Count being in agony for the remainder of his life.
After all, to him Count was more than just his master. He had practically raised the man as his own son and he knew that Count also looked up to him. He would not let any more agony engulf the man, since he was already drowning in plenty of torment to begin with.
It seemed like an eternity had elapsed since Lady Padme’s death, however, in fact it had only been three days. It often surprised him ‘how Joy passes so swiftly but sorrow settles in slowly’ and it was the first time in his life, where sorrow stretched a second into an hour, lengthening the days to such an extent that even at night, sleep didn’t dare attempt to soothe him and hence, he stayed awake, suffering, worried for his master.
And, today was the day when the burial would take place.
A little reprieve was given to the tormented Count by not including him in the funeral arrangements. Lady Edwina had kindly taken the matter into her own hands and spared the man.
The kind woman would’ve been a great choice for the Count and Countess had even said so to him but the Count had been struck by love for the younger one and had made the proposal of marriage to the younger one instead. Countess had been saddened by the entire affair but after seeing how happy his son was with the young girl, she had relented and blessed the union.
Poor Countess, if only she could’ve seen what befell the couple then she would’ve never agreed to the union. It was God’s mercy that she died before witnessing such a horrid tragedy.
Albert sighed and slowly opened his master’s bedroom and his heart thudded at the sight before him. Count, already dressed, stood facing the windows . He was clad in his black suit for the dismal occasion. This was the first time that the Count hadn’t waited for Albert to dress him up.
“My Lord..” Albert said in a soft and tentative voice.
The Count slowly turned away from the windows and locked his eyes with the butler. His cerulean blue eyes looked dull, vacant, and distant, as though the Count was looking through him rather than at him. A twinge of pain shot through him at the Count’s lifeless gaze and he spoke in a sorrowful tone, “It’s time.”
Obi-wan
God.
Growing up, just like many people around him Obi-wan had ardently prayed to the supernatural entity. However, the first crack in his faith had appeared when his father had suddenly fallen ill. He had been five and he had fervently prayed to God, pleading him to save his father. On the day his father had breathed his last breath, he had been in the krasnyi ugol, the icon corner all night. The home altar had had ornate pictures of St. Sergius of Radonezh, St. Seraphim of Sarov along with an icon picture of Jesus Christ. He had prayed all night, begging God to restore his father’s health but his prayers had fallen on deaf ears. Albert had come to him in the morning and had sat down next to him. In retrospect, what a grueling task it must’ve been for the man, to break a child’s heart by telling him that God had not listened to his prayers and that his father was dead.
He had been furious at God, after all, for all of his five years he had been told by those around him that God always listened to your prayers, especially if they were genuine and from the heart. Obi-wan had prayed from the bottom of his heart and his prayer had not been accepted. He had told his mother that he was angry with God and didn’t wish to pray to him anymore but his mother, bless her, had just smiled and said it was okay to be angry at God from time to time. However, it was then that she had told him that his father wasn’t dead. She had told him of the afterworld, of heaven where his father’s soul had gone. She had told him that heaven was this wonderful place where there was no death, sickness or pain. It was where God, angels and saints dwelled and if you were a good Christian, your soul would be blessed by God and you would be allowed to enter that place. Due to his mother, he had returned to his faith and he had had an abiding conviction in God for half of his life and then he had entered into university. There he had read bible earnestly for the very first time and had come across the books by the ultimate sinners, the doubters.
Hence, he had become one. However, despite being an Atheist himself, he never looked down upon people who had an enduring faith in what he thought was a conjecture. God to him was a conjecture. Nonetheless, he understood why people believed in God and so he didn’t have any contempt for them. He knew for them God was hope, he represented a means to enter into a place where there would be no suffering. Obi-wan though thought differently, he believed that despite the death, sickness and persisting suffering a human existence entailed, humans have been able to create sublime beauty.
However, he never admonished his mother or Padme for their belief in God and thankfully, they shared that sentiment and didn’t admonish him for his disbelief in God. He even respected the institution of church and accompanied Padme and his mother to Sunday service. He had even let Ivan be baptized because he knew how important God was to his former wife.
So, it was barbaric for church to treat Padme, who had been a devout Christian all of her life as a sinner. It was utterly cruel that a person who sought relief from immense suffering by running willingly into death’s embrace must then be referred to as a sinner and hence, not be given a worthy funeral.
Obi-wan had been furious when the church had refused to conduct a funeral service for Padme.
They call their God, all loving and merciful and yet they scorn the truly wounded and suffering. He had thought witheringly.
Obi-wan had then written a rather scathing letter to the head priest regarding their action and had stated they would no longer receive any funds from him. Despite his threats the church didn’t waver in its decision and so, they forbade a public commemoration in the church but allowed a private prayer to be conducted for the deceased.
He broke the news to Padme’s family through a missive and they responded with gratefulness. It was clear that they didn’t even expect a prayer to be conducted for her. Edwina then took it upon herself to make all the necessary arrangements and a decision was reached to bury Padme on Padme’s family estate.
Bury Padme.
His Padme.
His beautiful yet stubborn Padme.
Who was dead and who had leapt to her death in front of a moving train.
The world to him had appeared hazy and covered by a dense mist as he had dressed himself for the burial. With every piece of clothing he had put on however, everything that had transpired in the three days since Padme’s death flashed before his eyes.
After leaving the insufferable Baron, he had decided that he might not proceed with the utterly strange plan that his mind, under the grip of momentary lunacy, had devised. However, before he could do any of that, the news of Padme’s suicide had reached him and he hadn’t known how to react.
The police had asked him to identify the body and the gruesome sight still made bile rise up in his throat. After seeing the state of the body, Obi-wan had vomited instantly. The Police had been kind and patient with him and had even given him alcohol to provide some relief. Despite his dulled mind, his body had still continued to tremble at the harrowing sight of the corpse before him. The mangled corpse hadn’t even remotely looked like his former wife and he had felt relieved but then his eyes had fallen on the cross necklace which he had gifted her. It was not just any cross necklace. This necklace he had received as a thanks from the Bishop of the Chartres Cathedral himself because of the hefty donation that his mother had made. The Bishop had said it himself that only three of the kind were ever made and that it was an ancient relic. One was with the king of England and the other with the pope and the last he gave to Obi-wan because of his mother, who had donated her entire inheritance to the Cathedral.
It was then that he knew, that the maimed figure before his eyes was his estranged wife.
He had then informed the Police and had come back home. He had been unable to sleep that night or the night after and in order to stop the terrible sight from repeatedly assaulting his mind’s eye he had smoked and drank freely, till he couldn’t form a single coherent thought. It had worked and mercifully, the edges of his awareness had blurred with the world becoming a dizzying whirlwind of color and sounds.
And then in the midst of all the chaos that Baron had shown up.
Obi-wan would rather not recall that unsavory interaction.
After all, it was that man’s fault that this happened.
And, Obi-wan would never forgive him.
Ever.
Obi-wan looked at the scene playing before his eyes and couldn’t help the fury that rippled beneath his skin. It was the first true sensation he had felt since the past three days. Prior to this, all Obi-wan could recall was drifting in a sea of numbness with his emotions feeling muted and distant. His heart had felt heavy in his chest, too heavy. It was as if it had become a barren wasteland, devoid of any sign of vitality. It had been disconcerting to not feel any anger, sorrow or pain, sometimes even frightening and so he had drunk more to dull his fear.
Obi-wan wished he could reach for a glass of whiskey again as he looked at Padme’s father, Count Ruwee Naberrie, who was standing behind the closed coffin in which Obi-wan’s former wife lay. The old man, who looked utterly grief ridden, held a bible in his hand. It was clear that reading the verses himself would prove to be a herculean task for the man but since, no priest would pray for his daughter, he took upon the obligation himself. Padme’s father’s wizened face was contorting with pain. He continued to gaze into the bible and refrained from looking at anyone or anywhere.
However, just when he was about to commence, Edwina rushed to his side and handed him a piece of paper. The old man looked at his daughter with bewilderment but then, somberly nodded his head and closed the bible. Edwina took the bible and Padme’s father spoke at last in a somber tone, “I must admit. I don’t know how to begin.” The old man’s voice quivered and he continued, “It pains me immensely that my daughter, who was such a devout Christian, couldn’t receive a proper funeral. Although I must admit that she had strayed…” Padme’s father then looked at Obi-wan at last, who was suppressing his smoldering anger. “But we are all sinners and who are we to judge. And, like St. Lev of Optina said to one of his disciples whose father had committed suicide, “Entrust yourself and the fate of your father to the will of the Lord, which is all-wise and omnipotent. Pray simply, without testing God, placing your heart in the right hand of the Most High. For this reason, you must not grieve beyond measure. You say: 'I love my father, which is why I am sorrowing inconsolably.' But God, incomparably more than you do, loved and loves him. It is therefore necessary for you to leave the eternal fate of your father to the goodness and loving-kindness of God. And if He deigns to have mercy, who will gainsay Him?”
What gibberish. Obi-wan retorted in his mind.
“Even though it pains me that my daughter couldn’t get a funeral service, the church in their benevolence has sent a prayer for her which I shall narrate now, “O Father of all consolation and comfort, Thou brightenest with the sun, delightest with fruits, and gladdenest with the beauty of the world both Thy friends and enemies. And we believe that even beyond the grave Thy loving kindness, which is merciful even to all rejected sinners, does not fail.”
Obi-wan snorted in his mind at such ‘benevolent words’ from the church.
Padme’s father paused as confusion and sorrow flitted across his face and deepened the furrows on his face even further. He continued but now his tone was even more pained, “We grieve for hardened and wicked blasphemers of Thy Holiness. May Thy saving and gracious will be over them. Forgive, O Lord, those who have died without repentance. Save those who have committed suicide in the darkness of their mind, that the flame of their sinfulness may be extinguished in the ocean of Thy grace. O Lord of unutterable Love, remember Thy servants who have fallen asleep.”
Obi-wan closed his eyes at the words that spilled from the older Count’s mouth.
So, this was how the church treated the suffering souls. Obi-wan was glad that he renounced his faith.
A deafening silence fell upon the room which only occupied a few. There was Obi-wan, Albert and Padme’s family which consisted of her sister’s family and several cousins, aunts and uncles. In total there were just twenty people in attendance. Obi-wan had insisted that his son didn’t accompany them for the service. Ivan was not in a state of mind to be able to withstand such a dismal service. Also Obi-wan didn’t want him to see his mother’s funeral be such a pity affair.
Count Ruwee just kept looking at the piece of paper in his hand. He then looked up from the paper and faced Edwina who was already tearing up.
After that, Count Ruwee recited Psalm 118 while the family circled around the closed coffin. Padme’s mother was the last to reach the coffin. The old woman was weeping terribly and suddenly, released a howl of anguish as she wrapped her hands around the closed coffin. Edwina and others then came running to her and Obi-wan turned his eyes away from the entire affair.
He wanted to leave already.
Drizzling rain kissed his cheeks as he watched the casket get lowered deep into the ground. He had refused to circle around the casket or carry it and Padme’s family had respected his decision. Mayhaps it was foolish to be angry with the dead, Oh, but he was angry.
Padme had been solipsistic and hadn’t thought about anyone before embarking on such a foolish and dangerous affair. She had been blindly lead by her emotions and had not for a minute ruminated over the grave consequences of her actions. She had thought that her foolish obsession with that Baron was true love but love was not a blind pursuit that inflicted harm on others. No, love at its epicenter required one to not be selfish or self-centered. It necessitated considering the needs of those you loved and Love at its noblest, was even sacrificial.
He had seen true love. He had seen mothers starve to death, for they had given their last crumbs to their children to prevent them from dying and so had died in their stead.
That was what true love was.
And so Padme had done what her heart desired, uncaring of what would have befallen her child, her family, or even Obi-wan.
Another reason why he was angry was also why she had done this. The reason she had decided to leap to her death before a moving train. It was terribly wounding to him that she had chosen death over being parted from that Baron. It hurt that part of him which unbeknownst to him was still in love with his former wife. Although, rationally Obi-wan knew Padme didn’t truly love the other man, since she didn’t even know what love was but the very fact, that Padme had chosen death over a life without that Baron, did mean that she was immeasurably attached to him.
Hence, Obi-wan’s silly plan which his mind had concocted would’ve been useless because Padme would’ve never come back to him even if her feelings were not returned by the other man. After all, at the very first glimpse of that man’s rejection she had jumped to her death. For Padme life was no longer about others or even her, it was solely about that Baron. For Padme that baron became the sole reason for her existence.
And that had crushed Obi-wan beyond repair.
It meant that all the moments of love that he had cherished between him and her had vanished from her estranged wife’s mind and held no value. For Obi-wan those moments though had been invaluable.
“O Almighty God and our Father, fount of time and eternity”, Count Ruwee’s quivering voice pulled Obi-wan out of his pensive state and he looked up at the old man, who clearly was trying to rein in his sobs but couldn’t, “who by Thy power hast set a term of our life on earth, and through Thine only-begotten Son dost grant unto us”, Count Ruwee’s voice cracked on a sob and he swallowed loudly. After regaining some composure, he again croaked as he gazed at the paper that was getting wetter as drops of rain or even his tears dripped on it, “through resurrection, immortal life and a kingdom which cannot be moved, do Thou remember Thy servant, Padme Amidala Naberrie. who hath fallen asleep in the hope of resurrection unto life eternal, we beseech Thee, hear and have mercy.”
Padme’s mother’s loud wails filled the air and Obi-wan lowered his eyes again.
He couldn’t wait to leave soon.
Padme Amidala Naberrie.
Not Padme Amidala Kenobi.
It was a silly thing, but it somehow pricked him.
After the prayer, people threw flowers and dirt at the casket and soon enough everyone started to leave. Somehow, something kept Obi-wan rooted to the spot and gradually the light drizzle of rain changed into a shower and even then he couldn’t bring himself to get closer to the casket. He just couldn’t move.
“Can you not forgive her now?”
Edwina’s tender voice reached his ears through the gushing air and the loud spray of rain. He turned his head in the direction of the voice and blinked repeatedly as the droplets kept clinging to his lashes, making her figure before him hazy.
Obi-wan paused and tried to come up with some clever retort. He felt rain drops settle on his lips and he opened his mouth and spoke in a gravelly voice, “My forgiveness is of no importance, it should be your All Mighty God’s forgiveness that you should seek for your sister.”
Edwina’s face which Obi-wan saw through splashes of rain broke out into a small smile. Slowly, she closed the distance between them and when she stood only a few feet away, she spoke up again, “You try to appear cold-hearted Obi-wan, but truly you are simply abysmal at it. Despite all that my sister had done to you, you still fought with the church for a proper funeral service for her.”
Obi-wan’s jaw hardened as he repeatedly blinked his eyes, trying to see past the rain that kept distorting his sight.
“You are a kind man. Your words might carry barbs but your heart is pure.” Edwina then drew even closer and Obi-wan’s heart thudded in his chest. “You are a good man.” Edwina then inched her face closer to his as she whispered the next words, “My sister was a fool to have hurt a man like you.” Obi-wan closed his eyes at the unsettling intimacy of the entire interaction. He exhaled shakily when Edwina laid a kiss on his cheek and then lightly brushed their cheeks together.
“I still lament the day you chose her over me.” She whispered heatedly and then kissed his another cheek. She then drew back and gazed at him. The rain had again turned into a light drizzle but Obi-wan only felt heat encase his body.
Edwina’s lips thinned as she kept looking at Obi-wan, she then suddenly grabbed his hand. Obi-wan jolted at the unexpected action and then looked at the cross necklace which had been placed in his hand.
“The Police gave it to me.” Edwina spoke with her eyes crinkling slightly at the corners. “I knew I had to return it to you.”
Obi-wan looked at the necklace and cringed when the sight of the mangled corpse of his former wife flashed before his eyes again. “It should’ve been buried with her.” Obi-wan said in a hoarse tone.
“No. It was a gift to you.” Obi-wan looked up and there was sadness in Edwina’s eyes as she continued, “because of your mother.”
Obi-wan closed his fist and then was about to bid the woman goodbye when she spoke up again, “Forgive that child too.” Obi-wan’s knuckles turned white as his fists tightened at the mention of that man, “He was trying to do the right thing, Obi-wan. He was leaving. I saw it when I went to his place. They had everything prepared. In fact, Lady Skywalker even sent missives to everyone announcing their departure.”
Obi-wan averted his eyes as fury rose in him and made his blood boil, “You Christians and your forgiveness. Keep it. I will do as I see fit.” Obi-wan said sharply.
Edwina, unperturbed by his anger, stepped closer to him. “You forgive to feel unburdened. The anger and hate you carry Obi-wan, believe me, they are tremendously heavy.”
Obi-wan didn’t say anything in reply and kept his gaze averted.
“I will write to you. Promise me, you will write back.” Obi-wan looked at Edwina again and his shoulders slumped as he nodded.
“Of course.” He said morosely.
Edwina’s lips stretched into a sweet smile, “May God be with you, Obi-wan” She said at last and left.
Obi-wan kept looking at her retreating back sullenly.
“Thank you.” Obi-wan’s shoulders jumped at the voice of Padme’s father and he turned to face the man. “I don’t know what to say to you, son.” Count Ruwee swallowed and said in a sorrowful voice, “In fact I wouldn’t have admonished you, had you not attended the funeral.”
Obi-wan looked down, for he just couldn’t look straight into the eyes of the old man and remained mute.
“All I can do is ask for forgiveness in her place. She had tremendously wronged you my son but, as a father it is hard to stay angry at a dead child.”
“You don’t have to say anything, father.” Obi-wan said in a quiet voice.
Count Ruwee nodded his head and after patting his shoulder lightly he left as well.
Obi-wan’s eyes then travelled to the site of the burial and he swallowed.
Suddenly, a memory came to him and Obi-wan was pulled in by it.
“God, why are you so beautiful?” Obi-wan wondered aloud as he traced the soft skin of his wife’s naked back with a finger.
Padme giggled and squirmed under the feather light touch, “Stop. It tickles!” She pleasantly cried out.
Seized by an urgent and unrelenting desire for his wife, Obi-wan turned his wife on her back and brought their faces close, “God, you are magnificent.” Obi-wan said heatedly as he pinned his wife’s arm above her head.
Padme chuckled and tilted her head up to lightly peck his cheek, “You flatter me, husband.” She said cheekily.
“No.”Obi-wan said earnestly as he locked his eyes with his wife, “If only you could see yourself through my eyes. Your beauty would’ve made even Helen of Troy envious.”
“My husband. You truly are delusional then.” Padme chuckled but Obi-wan just shook his head.
“I’m serious.” He said in a grim tone and Padme’s lips thinned in response. “I’ve seen beautiful women but, none were as magnificent as you and for the life of me, I cannot explain as to why that is.”
Padme snorted and shook his head slightly, “I don’t know if that is a slight or—”
“No. No.” Obi-wan shook his head and peppered kisses all over his wife’s face, “I shall try to explain it but forgive me, If I do a poor job.” Obi-wan’s eyebrows knit as he tried to put to words what he truly wanted to convey. God, he truly hated words though. He felt so restricted by them. “I don’t know but when I first saw you, it was as if my vision darkened around the edges and so, my eyes they saw nothing but you. It was frightening but at the same time, I was spellbound. No thought ran through my mind. It was as if my entire world shrank and only you existed in it, and even I didn’t exist. I was merely seeing you and only you. And then, I got to know you, touch you and my world grew. Suddenly, I was there again. However, this new world only had you and I in it and nobody else. It was as if time had vanished and with you I experienced eternity for the very first and last time. I found stars in your eyes, fire in your body, wind in your breath, water in your tears and earth on your skin. I saw the entirety of the world in you and it was breathtaking.”
Padme’s eyes were wide as they looked at him and Obi-wan started to worry if he had said something ridiculous and was about to say so when Padme freed herself from his hands and kissed him.
She pulled back, panting and spoke in a breathy voice, “That was…beautiful.”
She then kissed him again and again and then they were drowning in the ecstasy of their passionate love making.
After they finished, Padme lay her head on his chest and caressed his chest gently. “Would you still love me when I would no longer be young or beautiful?” She asked in a soft voice.
Obi-wan snorted, “Guess, I am truly bad with words after all.”
Padme hit his chest softly and Obi-wan chuckled, “Of course, my beautiful wife. I would always love you. Always, no matter what.”
He could feel tears sting his eyes by the time the flash back ended.
It was terrible.
The mounting pain kept repeatedly battering at his heart and Obi-wan took in a shaky inhale.
“My lord.” Obi-wan felt a hand touch his shoulder. He tilted his head up to prevent the tears from falling and to his relief it worked.
He looked at Albert whose face was contorted with sympathy. “We should go back.” The old man said in a gentle voice and Obi-wan nodded his head.
He walked away with Albert, swearing to never return to the grave of his former wife ever again because he would never be able to forgive his dead, estranged wife as long as he lived.
One year later….
He knew it was a dream; after all, he hadn’t felt a warm body press against him in over a year. A hot and plush mouth laid kisses against his arched neck, and Obi-wan swallowed at the fire that lit within his chest. The mouth was insistent and relentless, and with every kiss, the smoldering arousal within him intensified. And when he finally felt consumed by the flaming arousal, he wrapped his hand around the neck of the assailant and pushed them back lightly to see who it was.
There she was, with her eyes closed and her mouth open. She had her head titled back and Obi-wan’s hand was wrapped around her small neck. Edwina’s long black hair fell over her shoulders in waves and her white night dress swayed lightly with the soft breeze.
She looked ethereal.
Like she wasn’t real. And, Obi-wan knew she wasn’t. However, that didn’t dampen his arousal even a little bit and he tightened his hand that was wrapped around her neck. Edwina’s closed eyes fluttered slightly as her mouth opened up even more. Obi-wan then pulled her face closer to his and brushed their lips softly. His eyebrows knitted together when her lips felt cold and wet. He then broke their soft kiss and looked at her again. Obi-wan’s eyes widened at the droplets of rain that had appeared out of nowhere. Suddenly, Edwina’s face had rivulets of them running down her face, very much similar to the day of Padme’s burial. Obi-wan’s eyes travelled lower and his heart jumped in his chest when he saw her now wet, white night dress clinging to her body. His eyes took in the magnificent sight of her breasts that peaked through the wet cloth.
Carefully he loosened his hold around her neck and then trailed his hand lower, until he reached her breast. Just when he was about to grope the magnificent flesh, Edwina vanished and Obi-wan with his wide eyes, looked at his hands in the air grasping at nothing.
Obi-wan startled at the footsteps he heard behind him and turned around to see who it was.
It shouldn’t surprise him, but nonetheless, it didn’t cause a thrill to shoot through him.
Anakin stood in front of him, in the same clothes he had worn when they had first met each other at the ball. His white jacket which was adorned with medals hugged his body handsomely and his dark blue pants created a wonderful contrast. However, there was one marked difference. Anakin was not looking at Obi-wan with the arrogance and haughtiness he had carried then, instead the Baron’s face looked stricken and pained.
And that caused a thrill to shoot through Obi-wan.
Slowly, Anakin started walking closer to him and that was when Obi-wan’s eyes saw the mirror behind the man. Obi-wan tilted his head back and his jaw clenched when he noticed his own attire in the reflection.
He was clad in his military uniform as well but his was different. It consisted of a black coat that had silver buttons, gold stripes, along with medals and not to mention a pair of gold epaulettes attached to his shoulders. His red woolen pants created a nice contrast however, Obi-wan felt a twinge shoot through him as he continued to look at his attire. The last time he wore this attire was when he had married Padme.
Suddenly, he felt soft lips press against the corner of his lips and Obi-wan swallowed at the reflection. Anakin was pressed against him as he continued to kiss the corner of his mouth in a clear attempt to coax Obi-wan to kiss him on the lips but Obi-wan continued to stare at their reflection instead. He felt soft cheeks brush against his and more desperate kisses being laid on the side of his neck but Obi-wan didn’t move. He continued to stay still as Anakin continued to writhe against his body.
Hot breath scorched the side of his tense jaw and it was then that Obi-wan closed his eyes.
A piercing scream however, burst through the silence like thunder and caused him to snap his eyes open at once. Obi-wan gawked at the mirror where Anakin was still kissing the corner of his lips, but this time the mirror was cracked. Another blood curdling scream and then he saw it. Padme’s pale and gaunt face behind him.
A shrill scream then penetrated his ears, causing his heart to leap out of his chest and his ears to bleed. Obi-wan groaned loudly as he placed his hands on his ears, trying to block out the shriek.
When at last the scream faded, he lowered his hands from his ears and opened his eyes.
A terrifying sight then greeted him and stopped the blood in his veins.
Padme was standing a few feet away from him, at the edge of a platform. She was glancing at the tracks in the dark of the night which was only illuminated by the low light of the moon.
Her white dress and her hair were moving with the wind and the only jewel she wore was the cross necklace Obi-wan had gifted her.
It was a haunting sight and Obi-wan could feel tendrils of fear entwining against his heart.
He knew it wasn’t real.
He knew it was just a nightmare but, why did it look and feel so real?
Suddenly the powerful and deep sound of the train horn then pierced the dead hour of the night and Obi-wan squeezed his eyes shut, for he knew what was going to happen next. What his messed up mind was going to show him.
He didn’t wish to see this.
No.
No.
No.
Something involuntary then compelled him to open his eyes and a sickening wave of terror welled up from his belly.
When he opened his eyes, he saw Padme looking back at him. Her eyebrows knit together, her face was contorted in immense sorrow, as if she were pleading him to save her. Obi-wan tried moving but found he couldn’t, and discovered that an invisible force had him frozen to the spot.
He tried and tried but not a single part of his body moved.
And, then Obi-wan knew.
He couldn’t do anything but watch.
The horn of the train again blared and announced its arrival.
Slowly, he watched the train inch closer and closer to the haunting wraith of Padme and when it was close enough, he saw her move and then, somehow he had broken free from the invisible force. A deeply painful cry fell from his throat and with his arm extended forward he started running towards his former wife when—
“Doctor!”
“Doctor!”
Obi-wan jolted awake, feeling suffocated and breathless from the vivid nightmare.
Drenched in sweat and with his heart pounding he felt utterly disoriented.
His body was trembling as his eyes locked with Vlad, a young nineteen-year-old boy from his staff who was looking at him with urgency written all over his face and finally, he felt relief flood his bones.
“It’s an emergency, Doctor!” Vlad said in a worried tone.
Obi-wan slowly threw the flimsy thing that was his blanket off him and sat on the bed. His pulse rate was still high and minute shivers did still travel down his spine but overall, he was recovering.
That nightmare had truly been distressing to an utmost degree.
“I thought Count Qui-gon was taking the night shift?” He asked and mentally cursed when he registered faint tremors in his voice.
“Count Qui-gon said that the case requires your expertise. He said that the patient requires an emergency operation and since you’re the only surgeon available—”
Obi-wan cut him off with a wave of his hand and got up from his bed, “Alright. Tell me about the situation.”
Vlad nodded his head zealously and began telling him about the current patient’s situation as Obi-wan got dressed into his working robes.
Three bullet wounds in the right leg and one on the right side just above the hip.
Patient, a soldier was bleeding profusely and right now, Count Qui-gon was focused on stopping the bleeding.
The situation sounded abysmal. No wonder Qui-gon called him.
Obi-wan hurried to the ward where the injured soldier was being kept.
Blasted war.
How many was it going to take?!
Obi-wan despised wars, but it seemed to him that human beings couldn’t get enough of them. It had not surprised him that Russia had been thrust into another war. This time the reason being given was to defend the Christian Orthodox faith against the evil Ottoman empire. It didn’t surprise him that religion was being hailed as the primary reason when in fact wars were largely fought for territory and resources or to demonstrate power a nation wielded on an international level. Wars were never about betterment of the people; they were fought so that the nations could exult in the exhibition of their powers.
However, ambitions of a few resulted in the bloodshed of so many innocent people and Obi-wan witnessed this first hand. After the war, he had voluntarily joined the service again despite retirement and many had done the same, including Qui-gon.
When he arrived at the door of the ward, Qui-gon looked at him, however there was something on his face that made Obi-wan come to a halt. Qui-gon’s face was grim and for a moment, Obi-wan thought that maybe the patient was dead already but then Qui-gon turned his face away as if he couldn’t keep holding Obi-wan’s gaze. It was an absurd reaction and it caused his stomach to knot with dread.
Slowly, he neared the man and his staff who were busy monitoring the patient.
Something wasn’t right.
He could already feel it.
His body also responded to his dread, as his feet grew heavier and he all but dragged his feet near where Qui-gon was standing.
Obi-wan initially saw a flash of colors. Red. Dark blonde. White and then his vision cleared up, and focused.
His breath hitched as a hard knot constricted his throat making it hard for him to breathe. Obi-wan’s eyes went impossibly wide as he stared, in a catatonic stupor at the bleeding man that lay on the bed.
A flurry of memories then passed through his mind’s eye swiftly with each having one face, one insufferable face in prominence.
“It is a pity to leave so soon. Especially as they say when the night is still young.”
“Ah it’s very unbecoming of me to not have introduced myself to you Count Obi-wan. I am Baron Anakin Skywalker.”
“I love Padme and she loves me.”
“I fear nothing.” “and no one”, “ I am fully devoted to her as is she to me. Nothing would come between us.”
“P-please, C-Count. I beg you.” “I’ll do whatever you want, just please save my mother.”
“I know that you despise me. I know that what I’ve done is unforgivable. However, please, know this that despite it all, I don’t derive any joy from making you this angry. I feel utterly sick to my stomach knowing how much pain I’ve caused you. Please, Count.. If hurting me will make you feel a bit better, then I give you permission to hurt me in whichever way you like. You may punch me, slap me and make me bleed and I promise, I shall bear it all.”
“I love you, Count.”
“Do you love me still?”
“yes. Always.”
“C-Count. I don’t know why she did this. I’m s-sorry.”
“Please…. Please.. Please.. say something. Please, Count. At least look at me. Just please…”
It was the unlikeliest of the places and the unlikeliest of the situation. He never thought that he would ever see this man again but now, here he was, bleeding and almost at the brink of death.
“He was brought in just now. Three bullets in the right thigh and one above the right hip. We assessed the airway. From the breath sounds there seems to be no injury other than to the hip and the leg. The staff has been applying pressure on the wounds to achieve hemostasis and aid in coagulation.” Qui-gon stated with a grave tone.
Obi-wan who was still in a state of shock, slowly moved his gaze away from t,he man and locked his eyes with Qui-gon.
“We can’t delay much longer, Doctor.” Qui-gon looked at him with knowing eyes and seized Obi-wan’s shoulders urgently, jerking him in an unprofessional manner, as if to wake up Obi-wan whose mind was wrapped around in wool and whose perception of reality had become warped. “If you do not operate on him hence, the patient would in all likelihood die.”
Die.
Die.
No. He would not let that happen, even if he despised the man from the very marrow of his being.
He had taken an oath.
And, he would honor it till his dying breath.
Obi-wan felt life revive in him again. He drew in a sharp breath and nodded his head at Qui-gon, whose shoulders finally slumped from relief.
Obi-wan turned his eyes and uncaring of who it was, started assessing the situation.
They must move to surgery at once.
“Would a blood transfusion be required?” He asked gravely.
“No. We have managed to stop the bleeding before it would’ve reached that level.”
“Alright. Then prepare him for surgery.” Obi-wan nodded and was just about to leave when a familiar voice reached his ears. The voice was gravelly, hoarse, and broken, but familiar—very familiar and it caused the hair in the back of his neck to rise. Slowly, he again looked at the man on the bed and this time, the bleeding man was looking back at him through barely open eyes.
“Am I … dreaming….i-is..it..you?” Anakin muttered softly, too softly in a rough, cracked voice as if even talking was a labor.
Obi-wan’s heart skipped a beat, a palpable pause that he felt reverberate through his chest. His eyebrows shot up in astonishment as he gaped at the man, uncertainly. His lips parted in silent surprise he stood rigid with shock, too overwhelmed to move.
“uhhh… ”A painful yelp escaped Anakin’s lips and his face scrunched up, in clear indication of what must be white hot and scalding pain shooting through his body. Sweat covered his forehead as Anakin started writhing in pain, his contorted face moving side to side rapidly.
“Is the patient hallucinating, Doctor?” Vlad asked him innocently and Obi-wan felt his heart thud in his chest.
“Give him Anaesthesia. We must begin at once.” Obi-wan said sharply but he couldn’t move as he watched his staff hurriedly follow his orders.
“For..forgi..ive m…e” Anakin croaked and took a shaky inhale as he barely opened his eyes once again and looked at Obi-wan. “Te…A..Amo…m..mea am..o.” Those were the last words he said and then Anakin lost his consciousness.
A wide hand then settled on his shoulder and Obi-wan’s jaw tensed.
“You must make haste, Doctor.” Qui-gon’s deep voice urged and Obi-wan simply shrugged his hand off. Without looking at Qui-gon or anyone in the room he walked away.
His feet were heavy but he didn’t care and strode towards the operation theatre.
He didn’t know what to think and so, he decided that not thinking anything would be the prudent thing to do at this juncture.
And, so his whirring thoughts evaporated, leaving behind a chilling stillness in his mind.
“I’m glad it went well.” Qui-gon’s voice reached his ears but Obi-wan didn’t move and continued to puff at his cigar as he gazed at the dawn that was breaking outside his windows. In the periphery he saw his friend take a seat on his pallet, “I know it was hard on you, but you did the right thing Obi-wan.”
Obi-wan didn’t say anything and thick silence fell around the room.
“I had no choice. There were no other surgeons available for duty and it was an emergency.” Qui-gon said in a somber tone. “If there was anyo—”
“Don’t involve me after this.” Obi-wan said with a tone of finality in his voice as he blew the wisps of smoke from his mouth and watched them waft through the air, “He’s stable now. No major organs were penetrated. All you have to do is monitor him. Also” Obi-wan finally faced his friend whose eyebrows were knit and whose lips were pressed together in a thin line, “Transfer him as soon as he wakes. I don’t want him here. Make sure that we never come across each other while he stays here. If I ever see him or he sees me, I will never talk to you ever again.”
Obi-wan then again faced the windows as he puffed on his cigar again.
A moment of suffocating silence followed and then, “I understand.” Was all his friend said as he got up and left.
If fate would be merciful to him then it would never bring them back together again.
“Te…A..Amo… m..m ea am.. o.”
Anakin’s broken voice suddenly whispered in his mind and Obi-wan’s jaw clenched as his eyes narrowed.
Goddamn this blasted war!
Chapter 5: Eritis sicut Deus scientes bonum et malum
Notes:
Eritis sicut Deus scientes bonum et malum - ye shall be as gods, knowing good and evil.
Chapter Text
My love is as a fever, longing still
For that which longer nurseth the disease,
Feeding on that which doth preserve the ill,
Th’ uncertain sickly appetite to please.
My reason, the physician to my love,
Angry that his prescriptions are not kept,
Hath left me, and I desperate now approve
Desire is death, which physic did except.
Past cure I am, now reason is past care,
And frantic-mad with evermore unrest;
My thoughts and my discourse as madmen’s are,
At random from the truth vainly expressed:
For I have sworn thee fair, and thought thee bright,
Who art as black as hell, as dark as night.
-William Shakespeare
Obi-wan
Two years later….
If there was one thing that the Devil and Obi-wan had in common, it would be his contempt for humans. And, likewise this contempt he had also extended to him, for he was also cursed to have been created in the image of God.
He understood the Devil, why should he have bowed to the kind such as theirs? The distrustful, disloyal, fickle lot who didn’t even follow God’s command. Why should he have bowed to them? When all it took was a little tempting from him at the Garden of Eden. All he had to do to tempt, was say the words, “Eritis sicut Deus scientes bonum et malum” and they fell.
Humans were not virtuous creatures from inception; they were easily corruptible and sought to be God like, all knowing and powerful. Therefore, why should he have bowed to such powerless, capricious lot who couldn’t even be loyal to the one, in whose image they were created. Despite being in an idyllic paradise in which there was no pain, sickness, fear, or death, human beings were not satisfied. They sought more and fell.
Hence, Obi-wan understood the Devil, especially now as he witnessed the pretense, the play that human beings partook in.
The war had ended and Russia suffered a humiliating defeat on an international level. However, the elite were not affected in the least. It was as if the war hadn’t even touched them. The ladies still wore their jewels, and the men still wore medals of honors they didn’t deserve; after all they hadn’t even stepped a foot on the battlefield.
Obi-wan despised the aristocracy and could already smell a revolution in the air. Soon, the common folk who had lost their sons, spouses and brothers to war and were now losing their children, mothers and sisters to starvation for they couldn’t even afford a loaf of bread would rise collectively in anger.
It sickened him, how the ladies so extravagantly dressed, fanning themselves mindlessly indulged in gossip and men, in foolish talk over money, politics, war. In all likelihood, they would already be in consensus for another war, to overshadow their loss.
Oh, how he despised humans...
All that carnage for what? All that innocent bloodshed for what?
Who needed the Devil when human beings did his job for him and even better?
Mayhaps, he was the Devil, for right now, he wouldn’t even blink if all the people, who surrounded him, , who were dripping with opulence head to toe, and partook in this play were killed.
Mayhaps, he would even be delighted.
“No wonder no one dares come near you”, Obi-wan looked askance at the familiar voice.
Andrei stood in front of him with a smirk on his face as he continued, “Lose that scowl will you. You’ll scare the lady away.” Andrei remarked as Qui-gon and his wife, only a pace behind finally reached them.
“Anger does become him.” Qui-gon spoke in a jesting manner.
Obi-wan’s eyes fell on the entwined arms of the couple and Envy suddenly rippled through him.
“It is delightful to see you here, Count. It’s been so long.” Qui-gon’s wife, Nataliya spoke, her eyes crinkling at the corners she continued, “We have missed your presence amongst us, especially, Alexei. He misses you and Ivan terribly.”
Obi-wan’s scowl softened at the mention of Qui-gon’s son. Alexei, for some reason was attached to him. The boy would run into his arms every time he’d go visit them. The happy child would pull him towards his play room and show him all of his toys with a sense of pride, and Obi-wan would always indulge the child with a smile on his face. And, on days when he would bring Ivan with him, Alexei, would be jubilant as he’d take both of them to his playroom.
“Of Course, My lady.” Obi-wan bowed his head lightly and continued, “I’d love to pay a visit whenever you’ll have me.”
“Don’t be so formal, Obi-wan. It’s making me sick.” Andrei joked and all three giggled.
“There he goes frowning again. You’ll have horrible lines if you don’t stop.” Andrei was brimming with amusement at his teasing remarks. However, Obi-wan whose mood was already bitter to begin with, grew even more bilious and testy.
“There, there Andrei quit sniping at the man repeatedly.” Qui-gon said and clicked his tongue in disapproval. He then turned to his wife and brought the back of her hand to his mouth. Envy scalded his entrails again when Qui-gon laid a soft kiss to the back of her gloved hand. “I’ll spend some time with these gentlemen. Why don’t you go and greet the ladies?”
Nataliya’s lips stretched into a sweet smile as she nodded her head, “Of course, darling. Don’t get too drunk though.” She warned lightly as she raised her brows.
Qui-gon guffawed at that and shook his head. His eyes continued to gaze lovingly at the retreating back of his wife and Obi-wan felt waves of burning envy scald every part of his body and especially his heart.
It was utterly strange.
He had never felt envy this intense before but then it occurred to him. Obi-wan was human too. A corrupt, sinful being just like those he was surrounded by.
It was abominable to be envious of others happiness. And, especially abhorrent if you were envious of your friend’s good fortune.
Oh, but Obi-wan was.
“Ah isn’t it splendid! To be celebrating the end of war!” Andrei spoke merrily.
“Most are not celebrating. It is only few who have the time to make merriment.” Obi-wan spoke in a withering tone.
“You truly are in a sour mood today han!” Obi-wan’s shoulders tensed when Andrei slid his arm around his shoulders. “Calm down, will you. I’m just glad that the horrid war is over.”
“I agree with Andrei. The end of war is always worth celebrating.” Qui-gon spoke as he beckoned a waiter carrying drinks towards them, “Now I just know the thing that shall uplift your spirit.”
Qui-gon smirked and took glasses of drinks in his hands. He handed one to Andrei and another to Obi-wan. Finally, he took one for himself and turned to them.
“Now, gentlemen. How have you both been?” Qui-gon asked as he took a sip of his drink and regarded Obi-wan and Andrei.
“Let’s ask a certain someone who has not replied to our letters shall we.” Andrei spoke and then both of them were looking at Obi-wan.
Obi-wan cursed in his mind and took a large gulp of his drink.
Qui-gon’s eyes softened as they regarded Obi-wan, “It’s alright. You don’t have to give us any reasons. However, it did worry us Obi-wan.”
Guilt pricked at Obi-wan and he immediately lowered his eyes as he took another gulp of the drink in his hand.
“Are you going to continue to play deaf and mute, or are you going to say something?” Andrei asked and Obi-wan’s shoulders slumped.
God, he felt weary. Weary to the bone.
After the war he had just wanted to go home but since he had to tend to the wounded, he couldn’t go home quickly. Hence, he had stayed behind and worked for more months and finally, when he had come home, he had come to a broken house which was still haunted by the wraith of his former, dead wife. Albert had received him with teary eyes and he had reciprocated the warmth, however, Ivan had been cold and withdrawn. Ivan had been unreceptive and mostly secluded. Obi-wan had tried to get him to play with him and had even bought him several toys, but his son preferred being alone by himself instead. Obi-wan had then been extremely worried about his son. He had asked Albert whether his son had been this unresponsive and cold during the entire lapse of war and to his disappointment, Albert had answered in the affirmative.
Since, then Obi-wan had tried tirelessly to make his child happy again but no matter what he did, Ivan’s face continued to stay grim and his face never cracked a smile.
And, it was making Obi-wan tremendously weary.
“Obi-wan?”
Obi-wan looked up to see worry written all over the faces of his two friends. He bit the inside of his cheek as another pulsing wave of guilt pricked him.
“I’m sorry. It’s just I’ve been occupied with Ivan and…” His voice tight, suddenly, his throat constricted and he just couldn’t continue but, thank god, his friends understood and their faces slackened.
“It’s alright.” Qui-gon spoke in a quiet voice as he looked at Obi-wan with kind eyes.
“Yes. Let’s talk about another subject” Andrei spoke in a cheery voice and suddenly, a smirk stretched across his face, “Recently I’ve had the pleasure of visiting a remarkable club, gentlemen’s only.” Andrei’s smirk then became even more lecherous and his voice hushed, “Why don’t you men join me today and witness the magnificence yourself?”
Qui-gon raised his eyebrow in suspicion as he spoke, “ Is it where men of propriety assemble to discuss the affairs of the world, politics, philosophy? Or …” Qui-gon’s voice trailed off as his eyes narrowed into slits, “does it cater to the kind that often prefer going astray?”
“The latter.” Andrei replied in an excited tone.
“Then I shall decline. Those places are not for men such as I.” Qui-gon said resolutely as he took a sip of his drink.
“How about you, Obi-wan?” Andrei asked as he waggled his eyebrows.
“I’m sure Obi-wan will decli—”
“I’ll go.” Obi-wan answered curtly as he interrupted Qui-gon, who now stood still, gaping at him.
“Ah! Splendid!” Andrei rejoiced and drank down his entire drink in one go.
Meanwhile, Qui-gon continued to gawk at him. Suddenly, uncertainty flitted across the man’s face and his eyebrows furrowed as he spoke, “Are you certain, Obi-wan?”
“Of course, he is! Now, I think it’s time we leave this dreadful party and do something much more fun.” Andrei took Obi-wan’s empty glass from his hand and beckoned a waiter in their direction.
“Obi-wan?” Qui-gon called out his name uncertainly, with the question evident in his voice.
“Yes. I’m certain, Qui-gon.” Obi-wan replied in an unwavering tone.
Qui-gon nodded his head and then titled his head up slightly, “then I shall bid you two gentlemen goodbye.” Disapproval was seeping from the man’s voice as he continued, “May God be with you both.” And, then Qui-gon left with a curt nod of his head.
“Let’s go, Obi-wan. Now you shall witness what it feels to be but a mere foot away from paradise.”
Paradise, Andrei said.
However, rather than paradise, it seemed to resemble the sinful abode of devil himself.
And Obi-wan fit right in.
His legs were spread out as he languidly sat on a chair facing the stage. A lit cigar was in his hand as his eyes continued to gaze intently, unblinkingly at the enchanting figure before him. She was looking at him with heated eyes and Obi-wan felt an answering fire smolder in his gut.
It was unlike anything he’d witnessed before and he was riveted.
The woman who wore minimal clothing was swaying her hips gently and seductively to the music which had soothing, gentle tones. Obi-wan, utterly spellbound, brought the lit cigar to his lips and puffed on it and then, the woman removed her first piece of clothing, a silky, unfastened robe.
Wisps of smoke wafted through the air and through them Obi-wan saw the woman remove her second piece of clothing, this time her black bralette. And, Obi-wan’s eyes narrowed at the soft mounds that were revealed in the sparse light that lit the room. The only pieces of clothing that she still had on were black stockings and her lacy drawers.
Obi-wan then tilted his head back and took another puff.
There were other women who danced beside her but Obi-wan had his eyes only on the woman whose short black hair just fell to her ears. Slowly, she inched closer to the edge of the stage, closer to Obi-wan and then she did something that caused his already smoldering arousal to fully combust into hot, merciless flames. She got down on her knees and slowly crawled to him.
Her dark eyes bore into him as she reached the edge. Obi-wan’s eyes took the lewd sight of her in and then he raised his hand in the air. Swiftly, a member of staff reached him and Obi-wan spoke into the man’s ear. All the while he continued to look heatedly at the woman and then the woman sat up, an understanding dawning in her eyes as well.
The man then reached the stage and talked to the woman, who nodded her head without breaking their eye contact.
It seemed he was in devil’s abode and he loved it here.
Their breaths intermingled but their lips never touched. Obi-wan’s hand grabbed the frail neck of the woman lightly as he gazed into her dark eyes.
“What do you want?” The woman whispered in a breathy tone.
The flames of arousal were licking him over and scalding his skin. God, it had been so long since he felt the scorching touch and heat of another body against his skin.
It felt addictive.
This heat that was encasing his body.
“On your knees.” He commanded in a gravelly voice and the woman obeyed. Slowly as she slid her hand down the front of his chest, she lowered herself to the ground.
The lecherous sight fanned the flames in him and he felt lust seize the grip of his mind. “Remove my belt and open my pants.” Obi-wan ordered as he grabbed the woman’s short hair in his fist.
A soft cry escaped her full lips when Obi-wan tugged at the hair and finally, he felt her soft fingers grip his dick.
Obi-wan’s head thudded against the wall as his eyes rolled back at the scalding touch.
He swallowed and then looked down again. The woman was panting as she patiently waited for his next command.
“Take it in your mouth. Suck it, but if I feel your teeth, I’ll not be forgiving. Do you understand?” Obi-wan said in a deep and slightly threatening tone.
The woman nodded her head enthusiastically and then she took him into her mouth.
A loud groan spilled from his lips at the sensation.
It felt good.
So good.
It’d been so long since he felt good.
The woman continued to suck relentlessly. Clearly, it wasn’t her first time and Obi-wan, the heathen that he was, had arousal filling every crevice of his body.
“Touch yourself. Finger yourself as you take me in your throat.” Obi-wan ordered and the woman moaned around his dick.
Obi-wan’s grip on her hair tightened even further as he neared his orgasm.
Her clever tongue lapped at the sensitive head repeatedly and then she licked down his shaft as she looked at him with dark eyes. Finally, she took his dick deep into her throat and swallowed around it. Obi-wan couldn’t help another throaty groan from slipping his lips at the intoxicating the sensation.
She bobbed her head couple of times more and then Obi-wan was climaxing.
His body tensed and he saw stars behind his eyelids as white, hot pleasure shot through him.
When at last, the addictive sensation dulled, he opened his eyes and saw the woman climaxing as she bit into the clothing of his pants.
Obi-wan petted her head lightly when the woman recovered. Her wet lips pulled into a smirk, she finally stood up from the ground and faced him.
Obi-wan’s eyes widened at the unexpected brush of lips against his. The woman pulled back a little and her eyes locked with his, “Hope to see you again.” She said in a sultry voice and then left the room.
Suddenly, an unexpected emptiness bloomed in his chest, hollowing it.
He could feel the hollowness grow in him and swallow his heart whole. An image came to him, carried on terrible wind, a certain pair of blue eyes looked at him with so much passion and want that it knocked the air out of his lungs. It was dangerous, this image but it was familiar and in this strange interaction where everything felt foreign, that image gave him warmth. Those teary blue eyes glimmered with an emotion that Obi-wan would rather not name but he knew what it was. After all his own eyes had glimmered with that emotion once, but look at the consequences, what became of him. What drowning in that dangerous emotion did to him. Another image, same blue eyes, same man he’d rather despise but this time they looked up at him, longing and yearning clear in them.
Obi-wan swallowed and started to button up his pants.
His mind truly was a terrible thing.
It was repulsive but it was addictive. It filled him with self-loathing, but he couldn’t stop. An innate part of him yearned for a body to press against his. It wanted to thrum with pleasure, it sought desperately that bliss, that moment when he would cease to breath for a brief second, and that moment of blessed thoughtlessness. However, at the same time he wanted his heart to always be caged and only within his possession. He would dare not surrender that which he knew was incredibly weak and brittle. He hadn’t known how frail his heart truly was and how the pain of it breaking would be so intense that his entire body would physically tremble and convulse with agony.
No, his heart would serve no other. It shall only be his possession till the day he died.
However, when Eros would grip him, he would be forced to answer it’s call, for it was that powerful.
Obi-wan swallowed as he registered the weight of another’s arm pressing into his skin. He slowly untangled their bodies and got up from the bed, as he did so he refused to look back at his companion. At once, his eyes fell on the envelope on his desk and he felt his heart thud in his chest.
“G’dmonin” A feminine and highly accented voice said sweetly, but Obi-wan who could already feel cold frosting his heart, didn’t glance back at the owner of the voice. He stood up from his bed and walked to his table.
Dread caused his stomach to flutter and his eyes scanned the envelope that lay on the table.
“M’lord?” There was question in the voice and his irritation flared.
Obi-wan finally turned towards his companion. His jaw clenched, he regarded the woman with narrowed eyes. “I think it prudent that you get dressed and report for duty.” He said in an icy tone. The woman, who was a member of his staff gazed at him quizzically. Her brows formed a deep, puzzled crease and when finally, an understanding appeared on her face, it contorted with anger.
“Ofcos M’lord.” The woman answered in a crisp tone.
Obi-wan swiftly turned his back to the other person in the room and took the letter into his hand. Although before he could open it, guilt twisted his stomach into knots. Obi-wan knew what he had done just a moment ago was appalling. No man should ever treat a woman he’d bedded in such an impertinent manner. However, he knew it was the right thing to do. After all, Obi-wan was a wicked, ungodly man who was wholly incapable of loving anyone. It took herculean effort for even compassion to spill out of him, hence how could he let that woman or any one near him. He knew he would only wound them further. Therefore, he pushed them away.
It didn’t matter how they saw him later, what mattered was he saved them from him.
Slowly, Obi-wan opened the envelope and held the letter between his palms.
Dearest,
I hope this letter finds you well. It grieves me that you reply to none of my letters and that I am greeted with silence every time. I know not if you simply burn my words into a firey flame turning them into ash or if you hold them between your hardened yet gentle fingers. I wish for the latter to be true, for these words I cherish more than any jewel. Despite the silence, I cannot stop writing to you because I worry about you Obi-wan. Oh, I worry about you so much.
I know that despite the frosty silence you greet me with, there in your heart lies a gentleness that has been locked away. I only hope that one day it opens and I can hear your words through the pages again. My heart thumps in my chest terribly at the thought of your suffering. I wish I could take some of it and bear it with you.
I’m aware that you’re a virtuous man and therefore you view my feelings for you as immoral. However, dearest unlike my sister I shall never act upon them. I shall forever keep my love for you locked away in my chest. Therefore, my dearest you do not have to worry. I will abide by my obligations as a wife and a mother, since I took my vows before God but my heart shall forever be yours.
I do not know when I’ll stop penning these letters to you but one day, I might not be able to bear your silence and hence, would finally abandon this pursuit. However, even if that day arrives, know this that it doesn’t mean that I have ceased to love you.
I’ll pray to God for your good fortune, my dearest. Keep me in your thoughts.
Yours forever,
Edwina Ivanova
Waves of nauseating and inexplicable emotions rose in him. His eyes pricked as they scanned the letter and his chest grew tight. A heaviness caused his stomach to sink and his guts to twist. Sickening, pandemonium of emotions started battering at his heart and then, his entire being erupted in pain. A loud, harsh, inaudible cry echoed in the folds of his mind and seized by an urgent desire to cease his suffering, Obi-wan crushed the letter in his hands.
It was awful.
Her words were awful.
They were sickeningly sweet and kind and it caused revulsion to rise up in him. He deeply despised these letters but at the same time, instead of just discarding them in the flames unread, Obi-wan would read them first. His sadistic heart out of curiosity would make him read and initially it would soften at the words and then, suddenly those gentle words would become shards that would cut through his skin. He would feel the slice of those words every time because the truth was, he felt nothing for Edwina other than anger for her adulterous affections she harbored for him.
However, it did soothe him somewhat that she would never act upon them. Nonetheless, he loathed the letters which she sent. Obi-wan though couldn’t ever harbor hate in his heart for her because Edwina, was a kind woman. She was truly the embodiment of a virtuous woman, hence why he found it so difficult to accept that such a woman should love a wicked man like him.
“ My lord.” Albert’s voice reached his ears and Obi-wan squeezed his eyes shut. Slowly, he turned his head and mortification caused blood to rush to his face as the woman who he had bedded, scrambled from his room haphazardly dressed in front of his head butler.
Albert’s eyes narrowed with evident disapproval and Obi-wan felt his stomach knot. He eventually fully faced the old man, who now had a grim look on his face.
“ It is my duty to inform you, my lord that Sofia Antonov has rendered her resignation for the post of lord Ivan’s governess.” Albert spoke with a cutting edge to his voice and Obi-wan lowered his head at the mention of Sofia.
Sofia, she had been an unexpected entry to their lives. After Obi-wan had failed abysmally at trying to get his son to open up to him, he had made the decision that maybe his son would fare better under the influence of a female figure. Since, thought of remarrying had sickened him, he had decided on hiring a governess for his son.
However, he had not anticipated that he would get involved in a torrid affair with his son’s governess. It had been so unexpected. Initially, he had seen Sofia as just a plain, simple and orderly woman. Slowly though he would see glimmer of things that would pluck at the chord of his heart, whether it be as simple as Sofia reading to his son on grass, or her dancing in rain and goading his son to join her, which to his pleasant surprise had worked. She would play with him and treat him like her own son and that stirred some emotion in him. Also, she was beautiful and Obi-wan had felt seduced. He had then started seducing her, by lightly touching her whenever he could and Sofia, bless her had fallen in love with him. When her passionate confessional had poured out of her, Obi-wan had stood rigid and mute with terror. Obi-wan knew that after what had transpired, falling in love was akin to a horrifying venture for him. He would rather fight a grueling war than allow himself to open up his heart and be vulnerable enough to give his heart to another. Hence, he had pushed her away which had caused Sofia immense suffering.
“I see.” Obi-wan stated simply and kept his gaze downcast.
He truly couldn’t understand why women fell for him. What was it they saw in him?
“My lord.” Obi-wan’s eyebrows furrowed when Albert’s voice became lilted with uncertainty rather than disapproval. “I know that as your servant I should never pry into your matters. However, since I.. ” Albert’s voice faded away and Obi-wan looked up and locked his eyes with the old man.
“Since.. I have raised you after your father’s demise.” Obi-wan’s eyes darkened because he already knew where Albert was headed. “I consider you and I to be more than just a servant or a master. Therefore, I shall express my true thoughts about your recent conduct.”
Obi-wan’s hands clenched as he felt anger flare in his chest.
“I think it highly improper and beneath your station.” Albert stated sternly and matter-of-factly.
Obi-wan titled his chin at the old man’s words. His voice rose up an octave as he spewed, “ Albert I must state this clearly, you are not my father. Therefore, refrain from intruding in my affairs and stating your opinions about my conduct.”
Albert’s eyes widened at the words as shock and pain flitted across his face.
Guilt rose mightier than ever before in Obi-wan whose balled fists were now trembling.
God, he truly was an awful person.
Albert’s face slackened and contorted with sadness as he spoke in a slightly quivering voice, “I apologize, my lord, for overstepping my position.” The old man bowed his head and pain sliced through Obi-wan at that, “I also came to inform you about Count Nicholas’s ball in St. Petesburg. The Count has sent a formal invitation and a personal missive requesting your presence.”
Obi-wan averted his eyes and crushed the letter in his fist even more.
He despised social events. However, refusing Count Nicholas would be highly improper and especially, since Count has privately requested for his attendance through a missive. Hence, Obi-wan knew he couldn’t refuse.
“Alright. Send a missive back informing the Count that I shall be there. When is it?”
“in a fortnight my lord.”
“I shall go. Make all the necessary preparations. I shall be taking Ivan with me too. It would do him good, this little trip, and when we return, we shall post a new advertisement for a new governess.” Obi-wan ended and looked up to see that Albert was averting his eyes now.
“And Albert. I’m sorry.” Obi-wan said in a quiet voice.
Albert looked up and relief poured out of him at the unexpected apology. Slowly his thin lips stretched into a small smile and his eyes shined with compassion for Obi-wan as he replied in a gentle voice. “ You don’t have to apologize my lord. I did overstep my station by saying those words.”
Obi-wan returned a small smile of his own and nodded his head, “It’s alright. You did raise me, after all.”
Now, Albert’s face brightened up even more and he excused himself in order to return to his duties.
As soon as the old man left though, Obi-wan’s face fell. With decisive steps he reached the hearth and then threw the crushed letter into the flickering flames.
He truly must be devil’s spawn for he was slowly turning into a wretched, wicked being just like him.
Ever since what had happened three years ago, Obi-wan’s skin would always crawl whenever he stepped foot in the train station. His eyes, on their own accord would gaze at the platform and whenever a train’s horn would pierce thunderously through the air announcing its arrival, Obi-wan would see a wraith of Padme standing at the very edge of the platform, moments from jumping to her death. It would happen every single time and Obi-wan felt a twist in his gut in dreaded anticipation as he walked through the bustling crowd.
It was winters and the crispy air rasped against his cheeks. A cloud of mist formed every time his hot breath spilled from his mouth as he walked clutching the gloved hand of his son. Obi-wan’s eyes flickered to his son, who looked impassive and had no joy written on his face. A twinge of pain shot through him and Obi-wan returned his gaze to the front as he made his way through the swathe of crowd at the station that kept bumping into one another.
Dense clouds of mist were covering the ceiling and slowly descending down. Obi-wan tightened his hold on his son and brought him closer as they continued to walk hastily towards the platform.
He dearly hoped that this trip would cheer his son’s spirit up enough to make him smile again. After all, Ivan hadn’t smiled since Obi-wan came home from war.
The fog of wafting clouds had now fully descended by the time they reached their platform and waited for the train to arrive.
It would happen now.
Soon enough.
Soon enough she would be there again, forlorn, clutching the cross around her neck and murmuring a prayer.
The train horn tore through the air and Obi-wan held his breath in anticipation. Suddenly, though he felt his son tighten the grip around his hand and Obi-wan turned his eyes away to look at his son. For the first time an emotion had so vividly flitted across his son’s face and for it to have been fear caused grief to curl around his heart.
“Ivan” Obi-wan called out to his son but his son didn’t acknowledge him and continued to look at nothing in particular. Obi-wan sighed and looked behind to see that Albert and his staff were coming towards them.
The rhythmic chugging sound of the train getting near made Obi-wan look in its direction. He could see the black and red colors of the engine through the dense fog now and clenched his jaw.
Soon.
However, to his surprise he didn’t see his former’s wife’s ghost as the screeching sound of the brakes sounded through the air and the rumbling wheels of the train finally came to a hissing halt.
Obi-wan felt relief wash over him and released a heavy exhale. Just as he was about to embark on the train, however, he felt a tug deep in his heart which made him stop. His brows furrowed at the strange sensation but then he felt another tug and Obi-wan took a shuddering breath in. He felt a strong pull from a particular direction— to his right. A soft, inaudible whisper demanded that he turn his head and Obi-wan succumbed. He turned his head and his heart stopped pulsating in his chest.
Oh.
What was especially absurd was that Obi-wan wasn’t that surprised. Yes, his heart did cease to beat for a moment as he beheld the man walking through the sea of bodies but some part of him had always known that they would meet again.
After all, Fate was insistent on making his life into a tragic comedy it would seem.
Obi-wan’s eyes saw none other than the insufferable Baron Anakin Skywalker walking through the bustling crowd and clouds of mist. He was clad in his green military uniform as he walked towards the train. Another man walked beside him wearing the same uniform, but Obi-wan’s eyes solely roved over the Baron.
He had expected a tsunami of emotions to rise in him and their strong torrents to drown him. However, instead of wrath, shock, vengeance, revulsion, only indifference gripped him. Obi-wan titled his head slightly and his lips thinned.
It was absurd but Obi-wan was relieved. After all, those emotions had a cruel barbarity to them whenever they would seize hold of him. Therefore, it calmed him immensely that only calm waves of indifference lapped at him.
The Baron, however, clearly wasn’t as fortunate as him. The youth’s downcast eyes, his slumped shoulders and his dragging gait showed clearly that he was morose. His plush mouth was tugged low at the corners and despite bumping into a few on the way, he expressed no emotion. In that moment as Obi-wan saw him, he resembled a ghost, much like Padme’s wraith, walking among the living. In his slackened mouth, slouching body Obi-wan didn’t see any glimpse of life which had once thrummed through him. When in youth, everyone vibrates with energy and lust for life, Anakin looked listless and dispirited. He looked tired, very tired.
It pleased Obi-wan nonetheless, that his surgery had been a success and Anakin hadn’t lost a limb and could walk again. Medicine truly was a miracle, since last time he saw the youth, the Baron had been at the brink of death.
“My lord.” Albert’s puzzled voice reached his ears and he finally looked away, “Is something amiss?” Albert asked and Obi-wan simply shook his head.
“Nothing. We should make haste lest the train leaves.” Obi-wan said resolutely and embarked the train with his son.
However, despite the indifference he couldn’t help notice the Baron slowly inching closer towards the door.
It didn’t matter though, since Obi-wan felt nothing.
He felt nothing.
Anakin
A cloying darkness pressed on him from all sides, everywhere, and at all times. He felt akin to a flickering flame that was enveloped by the dark and whose flame would soon extinguish. Since parting from the other half of his soul, Anakin had felt life in him wane so much so that by the time he fought on the battlefield he had only sought the relief of death. His higher ups had called him reckless and brave for fighting on the front lines not knowing that only the thought of death had driven Anakin. And when he had felt bullets pierce him and his consciousness fade, he had felt immense relief flood his veins and then he had seen him. Anakin had known then that it had been a conjuring of his mind but oh, he had looked so real. If he hadn’t been so delirious with pain and wounded, he would’ve tried touching the apparition but he was content to have seen him before he died.
However, to his misfortune Anakin had lived. Over the years his leg had improved and his physical wounds had closed up leaving behind scars as the only traces, though the gaping wounds that he bore within were still unhealed.
It was suffocating to live without him. No matter where he went his eyes would constantly search for him and even now, he couldn’t help looking about him through his lowered lashes. It wasn’t as if he would dare approach the man though, even as Anakin thirsted for a single glimpse of his soulmate. His soul was incomplete and yearned constantly and Anakin couldn’t do anything to alleviate his parched spirit.
Anakin didn’t know how long he could continue to live like this..
Slowly, his eyes inadvertently glanced at the train that had just stopped, and he saw people mounting it, when his breath hitched as his eyes widened in disbelief.
No.
It cannot be.
Anakin felt a sudden jolt surge through his body as shock rendered him immobile and left him breathless.
No.
It cannot be.
He had to be hallucinating.
However, this time he wasn’t delirious from being at the brink of death.
Could it be?
Anakin stumbled back as he felt a tingle run down his spine. His face contorted with a mix of several emotions—disbelief, shock, pain and lastly longing.
Shock paralyzed him and gripped him with a savage intensity causing his stomach to contract into a tight ball. A sharp pain then shot through his chest and a gasp involuntarily spilled from his mouth when he felt his heart painfully pound in his ribcage.
“Anakin?”
Maxim’s uncertain voice reached his ears but Anakin continued to gaze at the unbelievable sight before him.
It was really him with Ivan. And there was Albert too.
Oh God. It was him.
“Hey, Anakin..” A hand squeezed his shoulder and Anakin who had been frozen a moment prior finally jerked at the touch. Although he didn’t dare look away, for he couldn’t look away even if he tried. “We should hurry lest the train leaves.”
Anakin didn’t say anything but his feet which felt like jelly under him started moving. His heart which had ceased to beat in his chest, started to finally pulsate in his chest with so much intensity that Anakin could hear his pulse thunderously echo in his ears.
God. It hurt.
It hurt.
And yet it felt wonderful.
He never thought he would ever see the man again and oh, how handsome he looked. How utterly magnificent.
Anakin felt a spate of pangs shoot through his body when the man finally disappeared from his sight.
And then it finally dawned on him.
Anakin would be riding on the same train as him and suddenly the wonderful ache that he had felt at beholding the man turned into a heavy, unsettling dread.
He knew how much the Count detested him. How Count would not be able to bear a single sight of him.
“Anakin. Hey, is everything alright?”
Anakin, to whom the world had slowed down all of a sudden, turned his head and took in the worried face of Maxim, his comrade.
His mouth opened, however, his voice was caught in his throat as his tongue tripped over at the rush of thoughts that filled his mind to the brim clamoring for attention. No words spilled out of his mouth and embarrassed he closed his mouth and simply nodded his head slightly, praying that his comrade would be satisfied with his poor gesture.
Puzzlement twisted Maxim’s face but he didn’t speak any further and then the other man started concentrating on trying to get through the bodies that swarmed the platform in order to reach the train door.
Anakin, still in the grip of shock followed the man as if in a trance.
His senses dulled, his consciousness had been entirely eclipsed and the only thing that he saw was the image of the man he loved.
He saw, heard nothing else.
Anakin exhaled a shaky breath as his soul repeatedly chanted only one name, again and again and again.
Obi-wan Kenobi.
Obi-wan Kenobi.
Obi-wan Kenobi.
Only the side profile had been visible to him, but it had been just as beautiful as the last time Anakin had seen it. Auburn locks, which were usually neatly swept back, had haphazardly fallen on the forehead. The sharp, sloping nose which Anakin had felt trace his nape once, had still looked just as elegant, and the pale cheeks which had reddened from being repeatedly kissed by the chilly air had looked just as soft. The beard, which Anakin had felt brush against the sensitive skin of his neck, had looked just as neat and groomed. The attire, which had been an expensive, grey colored three-piece suit had hugged his body handsomely.
God. He had looked .. striking.
Anakin cursed as he found himself swooning at the imagery again.
He could feel the tides of longing climb higher and higher within him and that caused the ache in him to grow in intensity tenfold.
It was terrible, this knowledge that his other half was on the same train, and it was frightening as well.
What if they met suddenly?
God that thought chilled his blood.
No. He had already caused the man enough suffering.
Anakin would make sure that their paths would never cross again, no matter how intensely he yearned to be in close proximity to the other man. No matter how much he wanted to breathe in the Count’s musky and earthy scent.
He knew how much the other man despised him and Anakin, who clung to those sweet and torturous moments where their breaths had intermingled and their skins had touched once, would not be able to endure seeing Count’s eyes darken with hatred for him.
It would ruin him and shatter him to bits.
His heart hadn’t calmed down even for a moment since he had embarked on the train. Count’s face had kept flashing before his eyes, quickening his breath and increasing his torment. His eyes had restlessly searched for the man whenever he would pass through various compartments and every time when they would catch a similar shade of reddish brown locks or grey colored suit, his breath would hitch and he would cease to breath.
He had especially avoided visiting the common dining area and had instead requested Maxim to bring something for him. His comrade had initially raised his brows but Anakin had pretended to have a terrible headache which thankfully had satisfied the man.
It was night now and Anakin couldn’t sleep.
How could the sleep encase him, when his heart was pounding in his chest? When every time he tried to close his eyes, he would be met with the beautiful image of the Count and when a sinister voice repeatedly whispered in his mind to go search for the man and drink in his sight.
Anakin huffed as he sat up in his bed and removed his blanket. He sighed as he glanced at Maxim who was fast asleep and snoring. Today moon had shown up in its full might, it was a perfect circle and bright against the inky black sky. Its pale, white light covered the entire world and Anakin, found himself relishing in its beauty as he gazed through the train window.
Slowly, he got up and left his compartment. He treaded his way through the train and finally reached the end of his coach and swiftly opened the door. Something in him just wanted to get away and let the night’s air kiss his skin. However, he had not anticipated anyone being there already.
The moment he opened the door, the first thing he noticed was the smell of burned tobacco. His eyes then swiftly fell on the other occupant in the small space and at once, they grew into wide circles.
It was as if he was struck by a thunderbolt. Anakin’s breath stuttered as he felt his heart cease to beat in his chest and his lungs unable to draw in any air. Frozen, he felt the shock course through his veins momentarily stunning him.
Count Obi-wan though uncannily appeared calm, too calm, and unperturbed at Anakin’s unbidden arrival and simply gazed at him. He was unfazed as he drew the cigar closer to his lips and puffed on it. There wasn’t even a flicker of surprise on his handsome face, which was bathed in the pale moonlight.
Anakin, however, was doing poorly. A prickling sensation shot up his spine as he gawked at the other man in disbelief.
God.
He must move.
He must leave.
He must run away before the Count..
Before the Count..
Move dammit!
Move!
Anakin cursed at his unresponsive body but finally, when the weight of the fear of the impending, terrible confrontation with the Count had become unbearable, he felt a jolt surge through his body. Adrenaline burst through his veins making his heart race painfully in his chest, so much so that he could hear his pulse erratically throb in his ears, a relentless drumbeat that drowned out all the other sounds. Anakin’s entire body tensed in anticipation and just as he was preparing to leave a deep, gravelly voice rang painfully loud in his ears making him go rigid.
“Stay, Baron..”
Anakin who was now gazing away from the Count and looking at the door felt a tremor of dread go through him.
Ever so slowly he faced the man, however, fear in him prevented him from locking eyes with the other man.
A stifling silence descended upon the room which was every so often broken by the soft breathing sounds of the other man, who would suck in deep the poisonous air and then exhale it. All this time Anakin continued to gaze at the ground.
God.
He wanted to run away so terribly!
It was so painful.
Anakin, whose heart was still stumbling over its own rhythm, somehow mustered up some courage to glance up at the man. When he did though, his lips parted at once as sharp and piercing want sliced through him.
Count Obi-wan was now gazing outside the open widow as he puffed at his cigar. The burning tip would light up bright orange at every drag that the man took, and then wisps of smoke were slowly exhaled by him through slightly parted lips.
It had Anakin riveted. The fascinating sight.
Ever so slowly fear was being pushed aside by fascination and yearning in him.
God. He looked so handsome.
So beautiful.
Count’s hair which fell on his forehead moved with the air. He was wearing his thin, white undershirt and loose trousers. His entire body was relaxed as he stood with his back against the wall and gazed outside the window.
“Isn’t it a relief that the monstrous war has finally come to an end?”
Anakin’s shoulders jumped to his ears at the sudden and unexpected question from the Count. His stomach twisted into a knot as his throat constricted and no sound fell from his lips.
Count then suddenly looked at him and Anakin breathed in sharply. The old man’s dark, penetrating eyes roved over his face and suddenly, Count raised his other hand which wasn’t holding his cigar and brought it towards his own right eye.
“I see that the war has rewarded you in kind.”
It took him a moment to finally comprehend that the Count was talking about his scar. Anakin felt blood rush to his cheeks and averted his eyes again. The scar was from his combat practice and not truly from the war. His battle scars were buried under his clothing and somehow, he couldn’t bring himself to correct the other man. After all, aside from this absurd encounter they would never meet again.
“Has the war robbed you of your speech too, Baron?” Count asked in a wry voice.
Anakin, embarrassed, simply lowered his head and looked askance.
What was he supposed to do?
What was he supposed to say?
The last time they had been together, Anakin had been on his knees sobbing and begging for the man to just look at him once and now, out of the blue when fate had brought them together again, Anakin just didn’t know how to react or respond.
He had never expected to see the Count again but if they were to face one another again, he wouldn’t have never conceived of such a strange encounter. He had expected a scorching gaze alight with hatred directed towards him or a biting command to leave but instead he received impassivity.
It was absurd.
Why wasn’t the Count asking him to leave? Why was Count attempting to have a civil conversation with him?
It was absurd and Anakin couldn’t take it anymore.
Somehow, his mouth parted and his tongue untied. He swallowed and with his eyes downcast spoke in a quivering and cracked voice, “Forgive me for barging in so suddenly. I shall take my leave now. I bid you a good night, Count.” Anakin then bowed his head and without sparing a glance, for he knew he wouldn’t be able to leave if he caught a single glimpse of the other man, faced the door and with decisive steps walked towards it. No voice came wishing him a good night in return or asking him to stay which somehow, caused a stabbing pain to erupt within him and with trembling hands he opened the door and walked through it.
For a moment as the door swung close behind him, Anakin stood still.
He squeezed his eyes shut at the shrill voice that begged him to go back and see the man again.
His body started trembling lightly as torrents of yearning washed over him with savage violence, drowning him. His skin prickled and tingled at the thought of never seeing the man again.
God. He had forgotten how the Count had sounded. How elegant, soothing and refined his voice was and how deep, husky and absolutely penetrating. Although on most occasions the Count tried to sound severe, impassive, detached and strong, sometimes in the deep embers of emotion, his masculine voice would be sweetly lilted with his smoldering desire, burning arousal, flaming wrath and flickering grief.
Anakin clenched his fists when deep longing for the other man battered at his heart.
He truly was cursed to live a dismal existence.
He didn’t want to leave but he knew it was the right thing to do and so he mustered up some strength and started walking towards his compartment.
He prayed that they would never meet again. Somehow, it hurt more to be in close proximity with the other man than not. Since, he knew how much the other man despised him and that despite standing only a few feet away, Anakin would never be able to touch the man again.
He was truly cursed.
Obi-wan
Another one of these blasted balls and Obi-wan would aim his rifle to his head to end the torment.
It was a shame though, since there was a time when Obi-wan had relished being invited to them. Now, balls were a reminder of the time when Obi-wan’s life had veered towards an extremely unpleasant direction.
And, the main catalyst in that was currently engaged in dancing, for once with a lady of his age.
Anakin Skywalker, the insufferable Baron, who Obi-wan had met up with on the train to his misfortune was dancing away with Lady Katerina, Count Nicholas’s daughter. The debutante ball was held by the Count in honor of the Lady for having reached her maturity. And, by the looks of it, the Lady was already besotted with the Baron.
The Baron, who was just as insufferable as ever, though kept repeatedly stealing glances in his direction.
He wouldn’t fault Lady Katerina for being besotted though, after all, beauty was the only virtue that Anakin possessed. The Baron was in his military attire which he had worn on the day they had first met and since, propriety dictated that he wears his, Obi-wan likewise was clad in his own black and red military uniform.
It was unsettling, especially since their respective attires reminded Obi-wan of the nightmare he had had years ago.
He wondered, if it was a bad omen.
When Anakin, surreptitiously glanced in his direction again, Obi-wan felt a tendril of emotion he couldn’t recognize slither in him, and curl around his heart, making it pulsate faster in his chest. His jaw clenched, he brought the glass with the pungent liquor closer to his lips. He took a deep sip as he kept looking over the brim of the glass, taking in the sight of the dancing duo among the sea of twirling bodies. Anakin, again, surreptitiously attempted to quickly glance at him, however, this time the Baron’s eyes widened when he saw Obi-wan was looking back at him.
He could see shock and fear contort the youthful face for a moment and then, at once, Anakin averted his eyes. The duo continued to dance and now, Anakin made sure not to cast a single look his way.
“Oh! It is delightful to finally make your acquaintance again, Count Obi-wan.”
Obi-wan immediately knew who the voice belonged to and faced the woman with a welcoming smile on his face.
“Lady Skywalker.” Obi-wan grabbed the gloved hand of the woman in his palm and lightly pecked the back of it, “You look exquisite, My Lady.” Obi-wan said in a soft voice and Lady Skywalker in return, blushed, her pale cheeks reddening from the compliment.
“Oh, you flatter me.” Lady Skywalker said, her voice tinged with sweetness she continued, “Ah, I never thought I would ever see your handsome face again Count.”
“Now you flatter me, My Lady.” Obi-wan quipped and Lady Skywalker shook her head.
“No. No I don’t, but oh, I’m pleased.”
Obi-wan nodded his head slightly as he spoke, “likewise, My Lady.”
“The war had just robbed me of all joy.” Sadness flitted across the Lady’s face and Obi-wan, himself felt his mood sour immediately at the mention of the blasted war, “I never thought it would end. Sometimes, they could go on for more than a decade or even more. However, by God’s mercy it ended sooner than I expected and my son came back to me, alive and well.”
At the mention of the insufferable Baron, Obi-wan’s lips thinned and he simply nodded his head.
Lady Skywalker then turned and faced the swirl of dancing bodies, clearly looking at her son as she spoke again, “All I want now is for him to find a good woman, and bless me with some grandchildren.”
Obi-wan’s hand tightened around his glass at those words. His brows drew closer at the rise of sudden and unexpected anger that bubbled up in him.
“Don’t they look absolutely dashing together? Him and Lady Katerina.” Lady Skywalker was smiling as she continued to gaze lovingly at the dancing duo.
In contrast, Obi-wan only felt darkness creep and press upon him from all sides. A thunderous and roaring rage suddenly seized him when he felt envy suddenly coil around his heart.
“It would do him good to finally settle down with a proper lady and enter into matrimony. Wouldn’t you say, Count?”
Obi-wan knew that Lady Skywalker intended no harm with her words, however they did pierce him with cruel effectiveness. Why should he be thinking about the good fortune of the one who had reduced his life to utter shambles?
It was just preposterous.
Suddenly, an idea came to him and a part of him that Obi-wan preferred being buried, clung to it.
“If you would excuse me, My lady. I would love to continue our conversation. However, now I must stretch my old limbs and put them to some proper use on that dancing area.” Obi-wan smiled even though on the inside the smoldering fire of anger in him was burning and steadily growing.
“Oh! Of course, Count.” Lady Skywalker smiled and Obi-wan inclined his head once and then he was off.
On the way, he placed his glass on the empty tray which a waiter was carrying and with each step, a sharp and bold brazenness rippled through him, making his strides powerful and decisive. As he crossed the ballroom and saw Baron’s face drawing nearer and nearer, Obi-wan could feel recklessness pulse through his body.
A powerful feeling made his body sing as it gripped him. It was inexplicable, this maddening bliss that descended upon him as he boldly stepped closer to the duo who had ended their dancing and were standing at the edge of the dancing area. Obi-wan didn’t know if what he was about to do was right, however, when Baron’s eyes unexpectedly locked with his, and at once they widened, with his lips parting in clear shock and fear, he found himself exulting in this strange, powerful, and dangerous feeling.
Obi-wan was a few feet away now and Anakin’s uncertain and fearful eyes continued to regard him. It was as if the youth were not gazing at Obi-wan but at his oncoming death instead.
When he was finally close, he broke their eye contact and did something entirely improper and unthinkable. He barged into what was clearly a private interaction between the duo, well not so much if one were to consider that Anakin had been distracted the entire time, with his blue eyes trained on Obi-wan.
Obi-wan faced the Lady and spoke in a voice tinged with just the right amount of depth and sweetness, “Lady Katerina.”
Katerina with furrowed brows turned to him and then her lips parted in surprise as well, “Count Obi-wan” She said skittishly.
Obi-wan smoothly held his palm out in invitation as he spoke, “Would you do me the honor?”
Katerina’s eyes fell on his hand and then flickered towards Anakin. It was evident from her reaction that she would rather continue to mingle with the young Baron than dance with an old Count such as he. However, Obi-wan would not be deterred.
Propriety dictated that Katerina take up his invitation and so, she did.
Her gloved hand touched his palm and then she inclined her head.
“Of Course, Count.”
Obi-wan could feel the scorching gaze of the young Baron directed towards him. He could feel it prickling and burning his skin, but Obi-wan continued to keep his attention solely focused on the young lady whom he was now taking with him to the dancing area.
His skin tingled with exhilaration.
Oh, it was maddening.
This entire thing, but at the same time, it thrilled him.
Katerina, though appeared nervous as she anxiously glanced up at him through her lowered lashes.
Slowly, on cue with the music he brought their bodies close and bit by bit slid his one hand around her back, ensuring to finally settle it intentionally lower. Obi-wan knew Katerina could feel the heat of his palm through her silky dress for she inclined her head even lower and her hand which rested on Obi-wan’s shoulder trembled slightly.
With their entwined hands in the air, Obi-wan finally, started to twirl their bodies to the mesmerizing and gentle rhythm of the music.
“It might come across as too blatant” Obi-wan said as he deliberately inched his face closer to hers, “but you look especially beautiful tonight.”
A deep red flush crept up Katerina’s fair cheeks at those words. She ducked her head even lower and thanked him in a quiet voice.
“I do think that all the men assembled here must be vying to steal you away from me. In fact, I could already see several pair of envious eyes following our every little movement.” Obi-wan chuckled inwardly at those words as he could feel the heated gaze riddled with envy directed at them from a certain insufferable Baron.
Oh, it was delightful.
Obi-wan knew it was utterly juvenile but a sinister part of him rejoiced nonetheless. It was an act of petty revenge for that very night when the Baron had so impudently interrupted his conversation with his former wife. For that blasted night when Obi-wan had felt utterly humiliated as the Baron and his former wife had danced without paying any heed to social etiquette and propriety.
And, today Obi-wan enacted this silly revenge.
“Why do you turn away your eyes from me?” Obi-wan slowly inched his hand on Katerina’s back lower and settled it right above her hips, “Am I that unsightly?” He asked as he deliberately deepened and lowered his voice.
At his question Katerina promptly looked up. Her eyes wide, she quickly shook her head as she spoke, “No. No.. N-Not at a-all, Count.” She paused and then just as swiftly turned her eyes away, “Quite the c-contrary.. ”
Obi-wan felt a fluttering sensation spread warmth through his chest. Since Katrina was quite young, he had been uncertain regarding the reception of his blatant flirtations but to his pleasant surprise, the young lady was not as reluctant as he had thought earlier.
“You do not know how much that pleases me, My Lady.” Obi-wan spoke as he led them through another song. “And yet you still do not look at me.”
Katrina, who looked slightly abashed locked eyes with him at last.
“ The deepest blue I’ve ever seen.” Katrina’s eyebrows knitted together in confusion and Obi-wan continued, “Your eyes I meant. Deeper than the blue of the sky on its clearest days.”
Katrina’s eyes widened slightly and then she averted her eyes again.
“Am I so disagreeable that you are unable to meet my eyes.”
Katrina who was still looking away, shook her head slightly. “ Forgive me, Count b-but.. I can’t.”
“Your shyness plagues me, My lady.” Obi-wan said and then did something outstandingly improper. He deliberately stepped on the hem of Katerina’s dress, prompting her to lose her balance and fall into him.
It was devious but it worked.
Obi-wan had Lady Katerina in his arms.
Katerina, who was extremely stupefied by what had just happened, gaped at him and Obi-wan had his hands wrapped around her, supporting her.
“Are you alright, My lady?” Obi-wan asked with faux concern.
Katerina, whose shock had finally abated, at once righted herself, “Oh Count, forgive me! I wasn’t paying atten—”
“Nonsense. It was clearly my fault.” Obi-wan interrupted and withdrew his hands reluctantly from her.
“No! It was me! Please, forg—”
“My Lady” Obi-wan said as he grasped her hand in his and brought the back of it towards his lips. Slowly he laid a soft peck against the gloved hand and spoke again, “ Despite the rather unfortunate end, it was truly an honor.”
Katerina continued to gaze at him as he led them away from the dancing area. Obi-wan returned her gaze with a heated one of his own, and only once when they had reached the area where they had stood earlier did Obi-wan finally break their eye contact.
Upon return he felt the weight of the piercing glare on his skin, could feel it prick his flesh and penetrate it, but he didn’t pay the man any heed. He focused all his attention on Katerina and refused to lock eyes with a pair of blue ones who he knew were glimmering with burning fury.
Only when someone stole Katerina for a dance, did he finally decide to acknowledge the man.
Obi-wan could hear his pulse throbbing in his ear. He could feel every muscle in his body tense and his stomach clench in anticipation. Slowly, he finally moved his eyes in the direction of the insufferable Baron and just as he had expected, the man’s face was flushing with anger. His blue eyes were narrowed as he glowered at Obi-wan, as if Obi-wan was his lover and he had just betrayed him.
Obi-wan wanted to laugh.
His contempt must have shown on his face, for the very next moment, Anakin’s anger evaporated. A stricken and pained look passed over his features and in the bright lights, Obi-wan could also see his eyes glimmering with unshed tears.
Obi-wan though only felt his contempt for the other man grow. His fingers curled into tight fists by his sides with his nails digging into his palms.
Anakin’s eyes continued to flit across his face, searching for something, mayhaps sympathy, but Obi-wan’s face showed only that what he felt inside, which was raw and utter disdain.
Suddenly, Anakin’s brows drew close and a lone tear spilled from his eye, forming a wet and shiny trail as it slid down his face and then Anakin walked a few steps back. When another tear spilled from his eyes the Baron spun on his heel and fled the ballroom.
Obi-wan continued to gaze at the retreating back of the man when, suddenly something leapt in him. It was inexplicable, but it seized him and gripped him with a maddening intensity. It demanded that Obi-wan go after the youth and its insistence became so pestering and so loud that Obi-wan couldn’t help but succumb to it.
And, so Obi-wan left the ballroom, in search for the insufferable Baron.
“Why are you doing this, Count?”
The scene playing before his eyes resembled a dream.
There stood Baron, stricken, in the middle of the room, facing the windows from which spilled the pale white light of the moon, the only light that alighted the dark room. The wet streaks on his face from the constant stream of tears which spilled from his eyes, glimmered as the moonlight touched his face. His eyebrows were knit in what Obi-wan could see, was distraught written all over his face. His arms were folded around his body, as if he were embracing himself. No one, who would see Anakin now, broken and beautiful as he was in this moment, would ever be able to tell that this man had once been a haughty youth who had challenged Obi-wan.
It was mesmerizing and intoxicating that Obi-wan wielded such power over the youth.
When they had last encountered one another on the train, Anakin had been withdrawn and reluctant which had led him towards drawing a conclusion that the youth’s proclamations of love for him had been a farce, a well enacted one too, since some part of Obi-wan had believed that the youth still harbored those feelings for him. However, when he had arrived at Count Nicholas’s ball and seen the Baron repeatedly and surreptitiously glancing his way, Obi-wan had known then that the Baron still wanted him.
“And what is it that I’m doing, Baron?” Obi-wan asked in a mocking tone.
Anakin’s teary eyes locked with his and suddenly, Obi-wan saw anger gleam in them.
“You know what you’re doing.” The youth’s voice was heavy with bitterness. His face was twisted with anger.
His lips parted for a moment and then his mouth pinched shut again as though he were holding back what he really wanted to say and then he faced the windows again, “the question is why you’re doing it?”
Obi-wan felt a flicker of irritation as the muscles in his jaw tensed, “What is it that you’re insinuating, Baron?”
“That you derive joy from tormenting me.” Anakin’s voice was defeated and utterly devastated. His anger which had thickened the air between them a moment ago vanished, and his face, which was still turned away from Obi-wan, contorted with sorrow. “I understand that I’ve wronged you and you despise me. Hence, I deserve to be punished however, tonight I felt as though you made a mockery of me, mockery of the love that I have for you. I know why you danced with Lady Katerina. I know you wanted to hurt me and you did. God, it was horrendous watching you with her.”
Obi-wan at once, felt a wave of fury crash through him. His face grew hot as his mouth formed an unpleased twist. “How utterly solipsistic can one man be?” Obi-wan spewed in a ruthless voice which dripped with spite, “You think that I would partake in such juvenile and base behavior? That I would dance with a lady solely to make you envious?!” His voice raised an octave and grew even more venomous as he continued, “You behave like a scorned lover, solely because I bedded you twice!”
Anakin who had faced him during his tirade looked as though he had been slapped in the face. His wide teary eyes looked at Obi-wan with horror and his mouth agape, split open to form into a mute O. His brows formed a high arch of astonishment as he continued to gawk at Obi-wan in a catatonic stupor.
Fully seized by anger, every muscle of Obi-wan’s body stiffened. His chest expanded as his shoulders pulled back, taking on a predatory bow and his fists were tightly clenched on his sides.
Obi-wan was furious.
He was furious because everything he had just said was a lie. He felt shame bore down on him hard because he had indeed, enacted that entire thing to needle and hurt the other man. He had hoped that the Baron would get angry and jealous.
And, it made him furious, that he would engage in such a silly and juvenile act.
Deep resentment for the other man suddenly sizzled in him, for it was due to him that Obi-wan had done something so base and revolting.
God, he hated this man. He brought out things out of Obi-wan that he didn’t know he was capable of.
All of a sudden, shock dissipated from Anakin’s face and it tightened with anger. “It is evident, the hatred that you possess in your heart for me and so, I shall trouble you no longer. I will do as you bade me to do then, I’ll leave and ensure that you never see my face again. May God be with you, Count.”
Anakin then started walking towards the door. His steps echoed in the spacious room and were loud and forceful. When Anakin neared him and was just about to walk past him, Obi-wan reacted instantly and thoughtlessly. He grabbed the other man’s hand and twisted it upward, drawing the hand in his fist closer to his chest and thereby, bringing their bodies closer.
Anakin’s eyes blinked with incredulity and Obi-wan simply, brought the other man closer still.
Their faces were mere inches apart when Obi-wan spoke again, his voice dripping with venom. “You behave as if I’ve wronged you, when in fact you are nothing to me. I may have lain with you twice but the truth is, I feel nothing for you but contempt. Do you take me for a fool? The truth is you do not love me, because you do not even know what it truly means. I was just one of the many you have lain with and nothing else. Do you think I do not know that in all of these years you have had someone else warm your bed? And you, you! ” Obi-wan snarled as he tightened his grip on Anakin’s hand, “have the gall of being vexed at me for simply dancing with a lady?!”
Anakin stood, unblinking as his jaw went slack. His eyes flickered across Obi-wan’s face and then at once, a cloud of overwhelming agony settled on his features. A tear, which glimmered in the white light of the moon, spilled from his eye, and slowly trailed down his cheek to pool under his chin, and eventually dot his blue military jacket.
His plush mouth parted and a pained voice spilled from it, “ I-I c-could never.” His voice faded and then he swallowed. “A-After you…I’ve n-never.. with anyone.” His quivering voice cracked on a sob as he continued, “I-I would never be able to…with anyone, ever again.”
Obi-wan’s eyebrows rose in a surprised arc at those words. He felt his heart skip a beat as he reeled in astonishment.
His eyes flitted across Anakin’s face in search for any indication that would imply deceit on Anakin’s part. He looked for evasiveness in the eyes, pursing of the lips, any sign of guilt, however, all he saw was Baron’s vulnerably stricken and teary face.
He was either speaking the truth or he was a remarkable performer, Obi-wan thought.
However, it was possible that he could be lying.
“I-I” Anakin spoke in a raspy and strained voice, “ I k-Know you despise me. I know I-I” Anakin stammered and gasped between sobs. His voice gritty dropped an octave as he continued, “I know that I.. for w-what I’ve done, I deserve your hatred. However, I-I beg you, C-Count.” His lips trembled as his face crumpled, “I-I beg you..Do not doubt the s-sincerity of my love for you, for I would continue to love you till my dying breath.”
Obi-wan loosened his grip on Anakin’s hand and pulled his face back as he continued to gaze at the crying man. His brows dropped low over his eyes for he did not know how to react. His lips pressed into a thin line and a knot of uncertainty tightened in his chest.
Suddenly, a cacophony of loud sounds disrupted their stifling and heavy exchange and Obi-wan let go of the man’s hand, putting some distance between them again.
Anakin sniffled and wiped the tears from his cheeks with the back of his wrist.
All the while Obi-wan just beheld the man as a flurry of thoughts filled the folds of his mind.
Anakin then straightened himself and locked eyes with him, “I shall trouble you no longer, Count. I promise, and if you can, please forgive me.” Anakin spoke, his voice a soft whisper.
Obi-wan didn’t say anything back and finally, Anakin bowed his head. The Baron directed one glance his way which was filled to the brim with longing for him and then he walked out of the room.
Obi-wan though stood still, hearing the other man’s retreating footsteps.
So many thoughts came to him, in a rush, full of barbarity and armed with violence, seeking to grip his mind and torment him. And, Obi-wan felt them piercing and slicing his mind.
However, there was only one thought that he allowed to enter through his mental barricades and it was that he needed to numb and dull his mind with the aid of strong whiskey and a good cigar.
There was another thought though which despite Obi-wan’s fortification was able to enter into his mind. It caressed his heart and at the same time, stabbed it.
It was a frightening thought.
And it whispered into his mind with a sickening sweetness, “You liked it. You liked the fact that no one else has touched him since and that no one else will ever touch him again.
You like the fact that Anakin Skywalker’s body and heart will forever be yours and yours alone.”
Obi-wan released a heavy exhale and closed his eyes.
He needed his mind to be empty.
He needed to escape his mind immediately.
Chapter 6: Amor est insania
Notes:
Amor est insania:- Love is insanity.
Hello Folks! Long time no see! I'm terribly sorry for the late update but damn, the past two months have wreaked havoc on me. Not only was I suffering from the worst flare up of my chronic illness but there were exams and my absolutely garbage mental health just declined rapidly into a very dark space.Somehow I managed to write this chapter even as I was going through utter hell.
So I hope you folks enjoy it! <3
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Anakin
Anakin had thought that the night of Count Nicholas’s Ball would be the last time he would see the Count, however, when an invitation to a dinner party at Count Qui-gon’s house at St. Petersburg had arrived, his heart had thudded in his chest at the prospect of seeing the Count again.
It was as if his soul was forever tethered to the man, despite the barbarity which he was subjected to by the other man.
Count’s barbed words had pierced him that night. He had felt so inconsolable with grief that night, when the Count had called him solipsistic, had reduced their shared intimacies to just a lascivious dalliance and then most cruelly, had accused Anakin of having slept with other people after him.
At that allegation Anakin had felt his entire being crumble.
He had felt himself come apart.
After Count, the thought of sharing another’s bed hadn’t even remotely entered his mind.
Since his entire being was consumed by the other man, all his thoughts that caused him joy were of him and all the thoughts that tormented him were of him.
Whenever he had looked at the portrait of the handsome man which he had stolen during those moments when war would cease, but for a moment, in the dead hour of the night, under the flickering yellow light of the candle, pain and pleasure alike had coursed through him.
The beautiful sight of the man had soothed his eyes which had grown accustomed to the gore and bloodshed. He would be riveted, and those moments would flash before his eyes, when he had felt the scorching touch of the other man. Longing then would tear through him and soon, pangs of horrendous pain at what had happened would follow. It had been intolerable—the sharpness as well as the swiftness with which each emotion had gripped him then, so much so that he had wished for death but despite the torment of it all, he hadn’t been able to stop himself from looking at the portrait time and again.
However, even that portrait had failed to encapsulate the true beauty of the solemn man, which Anakin discovered when he had set his eyes upon the man again. He had looked especially entrancing on the night of the ball, clad in his official military attire which Anakin had never seen him don before since the Count had retired when they had first met. However, now, due to the war he was reinstated and thus, was obligated to don the attire again, and Anakin felt privileged to have seen those dark colors of red and black frame the man once again.
They were his colors, and complimented him remarkably. The rich crimson colored pants and the obsidian black of his jacket, created this magnificent contrast which accurately represented Count’s spirit as well. The crimson reminded Anakin of the thirst for violence which he had seen many a times in the blue eyes of the Count, which the man somehow always managed to curtail. Anakin knew that he had never truly been subjected to the actual, untamed wrath that simmered just beneath Count’s skin. He knew that Count’s virtuous nature would never permit him descending towards a state where his feral, ravenous anger and thirst for blood would completely seize him. However, Anakin had seen glimpses of it, of that savage hunger and he felt ashamed, for every time in response to it Anakin’s wild arousal would grip him and rejoice.
It was madness which he couldn’t ever comprehend.
Mayhaps, it was the fact that in those moments Count was solely focused on him. And that in those grueling moments, when Count’s hot breath would scorch his skin and his searing gaze would trap Anakin, his damned arousal would sing, for he felt enveloped and wholly encased by the other man.
The obsidian represented parts of Count’s ego which always remained in the dark, never seeing the light of the day. When he had met the Count initially, he had only seen him as a puritanical, frail, old, and sorrowful man who couldn’t keep his wife, however, to his utter astonishment, Count had been none of those things. He was a virtuous, strong, intelligent and austere man who couldn’t be trifled with. However, there were parts of him that were so irreconcilable and shocking such as his cruelness which Anakin had never anticipated, and not to mention his overarching presence that just demanded submission.
And Anakin, who had felt overawed as he had crouched before the intimidating and domineering man, had felt much inclined to submit.
However, Anakin knew that there were still parts of the Count that he hadn’t seen, which the Count ensured to keep locked away.
“Ah, Baron Skywalker! Pleased to make your acquaintance at last!”
Anakin, who had been lost in his musings, snapped out of his pensive state and turned his head towards the voice. His eyebrows rose up slightly at the pleasant smile that decorated Count Qui-gon’s countenance.
Count Qui-gon’s warm reception was rather surprising to him, since the man was friends with Count Obi-wan and knew how Anakin had severely wronged his friend. When Anakin had received the invitation to the dinner party, it had both, astonished and bemused him, since Count’s Qui-gon’s frosty expression with which he had regarded Anakin during that one time he had come to Count Obi-wan’s place to give the man his mother’s gift, was still imprinted in the folds of his mind. Anakin knew that just like Count Obi-wan, Count Qui-gon didn’t regard him highly either. Thus, this unexpectedly warm reception at once, caused unease to ripple through him.
Count Qui-gon must’ve noticed his unease, for immediately his bright smile dulled and his lips thinned to form a formal, polite line, “It pleases me that you decided to follow through with the invitation, since truth be told I had anticipated you declining the invite.”
Anakin simply shook his head lightly as he responded, “ That would be highly improper of me, Count, given your rank.” Anakin then slightly bowed his head, “ Thank you for inviting me. The evening is delightful.”
“It shall be even more of a delight now, as I have finally arrived.” Count Andrei then stepped up to them with a teasing smirk playing on his lips.
Anakin promptly inclined his head in the other Count’s direction who simply waved his hand in response, “Cease with this formality already, Baron. I’ve tired of this nonsense.”
Anakin mutely nodded his head.
He peaked through his lowered lashes and saw Count Qui-gon clicking his tongue and shaking his head, in clear disapproval of the other man’s jesting. Count Andrei though looked extremely amused.
Anakin felt his heart give a painful thump at the camaraderie he witnessed between the two men. He had already felt out of place since he had entered the drawing room and now, he felt even more at odds.
God, he clearly didn’t belong here.
He shouldn’t have come.
He had severely erred by coming here, especially since the sole reason for his coming, loathed him with passion and would at the very sight of him, glower and seethe.
However, his mind couldn’t be reasoned with, even if he tried. This was another revelation to him— how truly maddening and unreasonable one becomes when seized by love.
Amor est insania. Love is insanity.
Anakin truly believed that, for no sane man would be able to abide this intense, maddening yearning that set fire to his entrails, and which he knew would continue to burn till his dying breath. His walls of reason having crumbled long ago, his mind clung to this longing desperately. It, therefore, became an essence of him and so, by virtue of it, Obi-wan Kenobi became an intrinsic and indispensable part of him, which he would never be able to obtain. Hence, Anakin would forever be incomplete.
For that which completes him, despises him.
And therefore, Anakin would wander the earth perpetually bereft.
“Baron?”
Anakin blinked and felt his mind, which had been in a daze, pulled back to present.
“Are you alright?” Count Andrei asked with concern written all over his face.
Anakin nodded but then he saw Count Andrei’s face contort with understanding and the very next moment, hesitation flitted across it. His brown eyes were regarding Anakin unblinkingly and his lips were pressed into a thin line. It was apparent that Count was mulling something over as he looked at Anakin and then, his jaw tensed and eyes darkened with resolve when he spoke again, “If you’re worried about Obi-wan, I dare say. Don’t be. He’s a good man.”
Anakin’s body at once reacted feverishly at the simple mention of Count Obi-wan. His pulse started drumming erratically in his ears and his breathing quickened.
It was absurd, but he wasn’t surprised.
Anakin had long ago accepted that he’d gone mad.
He knew he shouldn’t be surprised that Count Andrei knew but at the same time, it was jarring, looking back into brown knowing eyes, which could read Anakin’s fear, anxiety so readily.
“Won’t you agree with me, Qui-gon? Ease the boy a little, would you?” Count Andrei who a moment ago had looked at him with pity ridden eyes, suddenly put an arm around Count Qui-gon’s shoulders and beamed.
Count Qui-gon though looked terribly uncomfortable and averted his eyes.
“Obi-wan might appear all austere and cold, but believe me, Baron, that man has a notoriously tender disposition. I mean, look at all he does; treating the destitute without charging a single penny, reapplying for military service despite retirement.” Count Andrei then looked at Count Qui-gon again, , as if for reassurance, “ Don’t worry about him, Baron. Truly, isn’t that right, Qui-gon?”
Count Qui-gon, slowly looked up and met Anakin’s eyes. A blend of emotions reflected on the man’s face— there was uncertainty, unease and lastly pity, and Anakin felt his heart give a painful thump at that.
Count Andrei seemed puzzled at his friend’s continued silence and then locked eyes with Anakin again. His brown eyes widened slightly and his lips parted and moved inaudibly for a moment. Anakin didn’t know what the other man saw but it truly must have been devastating because the other man’s eyes again shone with sympathy for him.
“Truly, Baron. You worry needlessly.” Count Anderi’s voice was soft as he spoke, “I know what has came to pass between you men was terribly unpleasant, however, if Obi-wan truly harbored any hate in his heart for you he wouldn’t have saved you, or your mother’s life.”
Anakin felt a sudden jolt surge through his body at the words. Surprise seized him with a savage tenacity, sending shockwaves through his entire being and momentarily stunning him.
What?
His breath hitched as shock stole the air from his lungs, leaving him breathless and reeling.
At first he thought he must have misheard.
However, in a daze and totally in the grasp of utter disbelief he glanced at Count Qui-gon and that was when he knew that he hadn’t misheard.
Count Qui-gon’s eyes had grown into wide circles as they gawked at Count Andrei with incredulity. His face grey, his lips were parted in surprise just like Anakin.
However, mayhaps he had misheard.
That could be it.
Count Andrei, though, totally dispelled Anakin of that notion quickly as he continued to speak, unaware of the gobsmacked look on Count Qui-gon’s face, “ What? You look surprised. You do not know? Well, truth be told, it is quite like Obi-wan to not speak of his charitable actions. He believes that those who boast about the good they’ve done, do it to seek praise and not because they ought to do it. You see, Obi-wan doesn’t see his deeds as anything other than duty. However, if it were not for him, my dear Baron, you would’ve either lost your limb or your life in war. This, I would have never come to know had it not been for Qui-gon, who had worked alongside the other man during that monstrous war.”
Each word out of Count Andrei’s mouth was a shove to his chest that propelled him further and further towards the mind numbing and utterly disorienting state in which reality seemed to flicker and fade.
His eyes grew unfocused as the edges of his awareness blurred, making the world appear a dizzying swirling mass of colors and sounds.
Suddenly, the contours of the present world shifted, and the sun started travelling back, making the time spin. When the time finally stilled, he was lying in a hospital bed again. Slowly, just as he had back then when he had regained consciousness, he opened his eyes and moved them lower to take in his state. His eyes were the only thing that he could move back then. The sight of white gauze bandages covering his torso was what he saw first and then, a heavy sigh spilled from his lips when he felt a soft breeze caress his cheeks tenderly. He knew then that he was alive and that hadn’t been a particularly joyous thought back then. However, since he had not felt any pain, his mind had still had a persisting doubt regarding the matter.
Slowly, with a herculean effort he moved his hand to his lap and moved the crisp white sheets aside, suspecting the worst, since he couldn’t feel his limbs. His bandaged leg, caused a sigh of a relief to spill out of him even in that dulled state. Slowly, with trembling fingers he touched the white gauze covering his thigh.
The feel of the rough texture of the bandage had removed all doubts from his mind of being dead. And, relief had flooded him at finding his legs intact.
When he had been shot, he had prayed for his death fervently, partly because of what had transpired and also if he were to survive, he would surely have been a cripple. And there was a saying in the army that being dead was better than being a cripple.
It had been a miracle, that was what he had been told by those who tended to him. Not many who had survived the war with injuries like his, had come out fully intact.
And, now to know that the miracle was performed by the man who he loved and the man who loathed him.
It was all too much for him.
Too much.
“Count Obi-wan Kenobi.” Suddenly the crisp voice of the head butler announced loudly to the people gathered in the drawing room and Anakin felt his heart cease to beat in his chest.
When his eyes should’ve at once turned in the direction of the man who must be entering the drawing room by now and who his entire being adored; what he found instead was that the world continued to remain a blur and the back of his eyes were lit with a memory from the past yet again.
He was on his knees and the kiss of the cold, wet floor against the skin of his forehead was especially scalding. And at once he knew where he was. However, this time he was not only a tormented man beseeching the enemy to save his mother, this time he was also a man who was deeply, maddeningly in love with the man who towered over him and looked down at him.
Slowly, he lifted his head up and glanced at his other half, whose face was twisted with a snarl and his heart immediately shattered at the dark and penetrating hatred for him which glistened in the eyes of the other man.
Out of the blue, the stormy night shifted into a wonderfully lit ballroom wherein, glided and twisted several bodies in an orderly and pleasing manner, however, Anakin found the entire scene sullied, for his other half with his arm wound around a lady’s slowly got closer to him. With each step Anakin saw the man’s eyes darken, so much so that by the time he stood close enough, all Anakin saw was again that deep, penetrating hatred eclipsing the cerulean blue.
“Anakin?” A hand touched his shoulder and then suddenly, a cacophony of sounds reached his ears.
He blinked and his vision cleared.
He was back; after being tortured by the past, now he shall be forced to endure the present too. Anakin wanted to glance in the direction of the man, in order to take in the sight of him. He knew that the Count would look utterly handsome, however, he was terrified too. Trepidation filled him to the bone.
What if he were to lock eyes with the man and see that same dark and penetrating hatred for him reflecting back which he had seen in the past recollections?
Anakin knew it would shatter him.
However, unsurprisingly, he couldn’t help himself and slowly, turned his eyes in the direction of the entry to the drawing room.
There he stood as Anakin beheld him, a few feet away from the entrance and in the company of an old lady who was fanning herself and gesticulating exaggeratedly as she talked with him. The man already with a drink in his hand, looked unimpressed as he politely nodded his head and only opened his mouth sparingly. There was a slight curl to his lip which showed his irritation and it was clear, that his patience was thinning and he couldn’t wait for the exchange to end.
However, despite a cloud of irritation on his features he looked enthralling. The tailored black, three-piece suit which framed his silhouette flatteringly gave him a sharp, polished look.
And God he looked so lovely.
His Count.
His Obi-wan.
Who had not only saved his mother’s life but had also saved Anakin’s life.
It was because of him that Anakin was not only alive but also was not a cripple.
God.
The burning sting of the tears as they pricked his eyes caused him to bite his lip. Soon, his tears filled his eyes to the brim and blurred his vision. Anakin blinked, and his trembling lips parted to suck in a shaky breath when he felt tears trail down his cheeks.
How embarrassing! He was crying! That too in front of so many people!
“Anakin?” The hand that was still weighing on his shoulder tightened and his mind faintly registered that it was Count Andrei’s voice.
He closed his eyes and felt more tears spill out. He mentally cursed and opened them again only to find his vision hazy. Anakin then blinked again and suddenly, to his utter dread his eyes were locked with the Count from across the drawing room.
Any softness at once vanished from Count’s demeanor upon registering his presence. The old man’s hard eyes instantly narrowed into slits and his lips thinned.
There it was, again, that cloying, dark hatred and it viciously penetrated its claws into Anakin.
And, Anakin immediately shattered into bits.
It had been one thing to bear it in his visions but to actually be subjected to it in flesh, it was too much and Anakin knew he had to flee.
The air in the drawing room suddenly became too thin and Anakin couldn’t withstand staying in it a moment longer.
Thus, akin to a coward he fled, far away from the stifling hatred of the man whose name was written on his every breath.
“It is absurd to me that someone like Obi-wan causes you so much trepidation that you flee at the mere sight of him.”
Anakin, who at present stood on a balcony after his hasty exit, was still quivering and weeping. He felt so miserable and truly just wished to be left alone. However, Count Andrei was a man of high rank and upstanding, therefore Anakin knew he couldn’t ignore the gentleman even if every fibre of his being demanded otherwise.
Slowly, as he took deep inhales to calm his perturbed state and after wiping the tears drying on his face, he turned to face the man. He cursed mentally when more unbidden tears spilled from his eyes.
“Truly, you worry over naught.” Count Andrei said as he regarded him with kind eyes and at any other moment Anakin would’ve appreciated the kindness, however at present it only felt grating. “You do not know the man like I do, young one.”
Anakin wanted to retort and say the very thing back. He knew that no one knew the Count in the way he knew either. They all proclaim to know the other man, however the truth was, they only knew what Count wanted them to know about him. Oh, they were aware of the virtues and the inherent goodness of the man, but none knew about the cruelty, the coldness and the vices of the other man.
Those parts of him, which Count Obi-wan tried so hard to bridle would always come to the surface in Anakin’s presence.
What was utterly preposterous though and truly demonstrated Anakin’s insanity was that he rejoiced at that fact. It was intoxicating, witnessing the tightly held rein that the Count had over his emotions snap, causing his suppressed emotions to bubble up to the surface with an enticing and intense violence. In those moments when his control would slip, he looked even more beautiful.
“Obi-wan is an honorable man. He is a generous person with a very soft heart. All the hardness you see, well, it’s just a façade. However, you must give him some time.” Count Andrei then smiled at him and he stepped closer to him. “ With time, his heart which might’ve hardened somewhat would gradually allay and then no longer in the grips of intense emotions, he would surely forgive you.”
Something unrecognizable then flitted across Count Andrei’s face which was covered in shadows and was dimly lit by the light spilling from the drawing room, and suddenly he did something so jarring and shocking that it caused Anakin to freeze on the spot.
Count Andrei raised his hand and softly with his thumb swiped at a tear on his cheek.
“You are a pretty crier, Baron.” He said in a husky voice, out of the blue. Meanwhile, all Anakin did was gawk at the man.
He didn’t know how to react.
His mouth agape, he took in the man with wide eyes.
Count Andrei’s mouth then curled upward to form a smirk. His eyes crinkling with amusement he spoke again, “I think we should go inside. After all, the night’s just begun. Let’s not further drown in our sorrows, since we do so every other day. Come on, Baron. Let’s go inside.”
Anakin who was still in the grips of shock mutely nodded his head. He took in a shaky inhale when he felt Count Andrei’s hand settle on his lower back as they started walking towards the drawing room.
When they finally entered the drawing room again, Anakin couldn’t register anything. His entire attention was on the heat of the hand that felt like a brand on his lower back.
Unlike Count Obi-wan’s touch which would stoke the fires of arousal in him, Count Andrei’s touch only felt heavy and uncomfortable.
He didn’t like it one bit.
When Anakin, who the entire time had had his eyes downcast, finally looked up, his breath hitched, for his eyes, for the second time during the horrid night, again met Count Obi-wan’s from across the room.
And he felt a hot, tingling sensation cascade down his spine.
Anakin had gotten used to the other man’s heated gaze, which usually and very emphatically expressed his dislike for him. However, at present, Count Obi-wan’s gaze, although bearing the usual dislike for him, also carried something very distinct and menacing.
His clenched jaw, the corded muscles in his neck, his puffed-up chest, and his tight grasp on his glass, which would soon enough shatter it, all indicated to Anakin vividly that Count Obi-wan was on the precipice of violence. His dark and aphotic gaze, which held Anakin prisoner, was so intense that, despite a number of bodies separating them, he could still feel it penetrating his being.
It was as if at any moment the Count’s precarious control over his mounting wrath would finally snap and the glass in his grasp would suddenly shatter, the shards of which would then pierce through his flesh. However, the Count would not notice it, for he would be totally in the grips of fury by then and would march in quick strides towards Anakin, enacting his vengeance, but truly, in the world’s eyes, it would be justice.
Anakin at once, felt the spindly fingers of fear seizing hold of his neck. He could feel it tightening his hold and throttling him.
At the same time sorrow cradled his weakening body. It hushed him and swayed him but at the same time it sucked his essence out of him.
God, he felt miserable.
He couldn’t bear it anymore.
He just couldn’t.
Anakin quickly averted his eyes and despite the sting of oncoming tears pricking his eyes, he looked at Count Andrei. He hastily broke away from the other man’s hold around his back and stated his intention of leaving the dinner party promptly. Count Andrei tried to reason with him, however Anakin just bowed his head and apologized. He then scanned the crowd for Count Qui-gon, who to his utter relief was not standing next to Count Obi-wan and was elsewhere in the crowd. Anakin, while ensuring to avoid Count Obi-wan’s presence like the plague, walked towards him. He again with an apologetic tone announced his intention and to his utter relief, Count Qui-gon didn’t try to dissuade him. He just looked at Anakin with understanding eyes and lightly pressed his shoulder in apology. Anakin then inclined his head for the last time and immediately left.
Only when he had finally settled into his carriage did he finally feel at ease.
And how foolish he had been to assume, that it would be the last time they would ever face each other.
To his utter dismay and trepidation, he was invited to yet another dinner party at St. Petersburg. This time again by a man of considerably high stature, Count Nicholas. Indeed, the very Count Nicholas for whose ball Anakin had come to St. Petersburg in the first place.
“Baron Anakin Skywalker.” The head butler announced loudly his name, his voice which was tight and crisp reverberated in Anakin’s ears and sounded akin to an executioner’s instead. Hence, Anakin felt as though he were stepping into gallows rather than a dinner party.
Slowly, he traced his hand down the front of his jacket and with his pulse quickening, chin tilted high, back ramrod straight, he entered the drawing room.
And fortune truly despised him, for instantly his eyes fell on the man who was the bane of his existence.
Envy, the despicable mistress cackled in his mind when he saw Count Obi-wan standing behind Lady Katerina who was sat on the piano.
The whole gathering’s attention was focused on the two and it was diabolical.
Truly diabolical.
It was the most horrid sight; seeing the Count turn pages as lady Katerina played on the piano. Lady Katerina would repeatedly, coyly smile at the man whenever he would turn the page and what especially battered at Anakin’s heart was how, each time, the Count returned her smile with one of his own.
He had never smiled at Anakin like that. With him, the edge of Count’s lips had always curled in a disdainful and mocking manner.
Envy, the venomous viper, slowly coiled around him, trapping him and when she finally pierced him with her large, hinged fangs, paralyzing him, a silent scream spilled from him and ricocheted within the confines of his being.
It was abominable.
Finally, when the music which should’ve been soothing to his ears but felt like harsh, jarring noise instead, ceased and the drawing room erupted in a thunderous applause, did Anakin exhale a heavy breath.
Lady Katrina then stood up from her seat and demurely inclined her head. She was beaming and a twinge of pain shot through him when she met Count’s eyes and her smile grew even wider upon seeing a pleased expression on his face.
Count looked pleased.
Pleased.
It tormented him that he had never seen such an expression on the Count’s face before. It appeared so incongruous— the relaxed eyebrows, lips lightly stretched into an easy smile, eyes glistening bright and a soothing blue. God, he had never known that the sombre, austere man could ever have such a light and easy bearing.
“Ah! What a delight it is to make your acquaintance again, Baron.”
Anakin’s shoulders jumped to his ears and his heart thudded in his chest.
Slowly, as he tried to calm his agitated heart, he turned towards the owner of the voice. It did not surprise him when his eyes met with the dark ones of Count Andrei, who looked tremendously pleased to see him. Oh, how he wished that the man who was currently leading Lady Katerina away from the piano would’ve been just as pleased to see him too but Anakin knew that would never happen in millennia.
“Count” Anakin said as he inclined his head slightly, “Likewise.”
“Ah would you do away with the formalities please, Baron. It is truly troublesome.” Count Andrei said with a wave of his hand and continued, “I see that there are no tears this time.” A pause and then his voice dropped an octave and acquired a husky tone, “A real pity.”
Anakin averted his eyes and a flush crept up his face. He didn’t know what to say and so continued to say mute.
“I must say, although I do like the sound of my voice and know it to be pleasing to one’s ears, I do prefer a dialogue over my continuous droning.” Count Andrei remarked in an amused tone.
Anakin flushed even more and promptly apologized.
“Instead of an apology, why don’t you tell me more about yourself. You’re quite a remarkable man, Baron. It is quite a feat to have risen the ranks this young and I must tell you, aside from the unfortunate incident with Obi-wan, I’ve only ever heard wonderful things about you.”
Anakin lowered his head even more as shame filled his being at the mention of Obi-wan. He knew that Count Andrei was only being kind. After what had transpired with the infidelity, his temporary dismissal from the armed forces and Padme’s suicide, there was no way that there would be anyone who would praise him.
“You’re being too kind, Baron.” He replied tersely.
He knew that he should try and talk more but somehow, he just couldn’t find the words. Although Count Andrei was kind and a remarkable man himself, something in Anakin just didn’t like being in his proximity, which was terribly ungracious of him.
“No, Baron. You are quite a remarkable man and not to mention, very easy on the eyes too.” Count Andrei said in a playful and flirty tone.
Anakin’s hands clenched at his sides and his nails dug into his skin. His entire body tensed as a deep sense of unpleasantness arose in him.
He didn’t like this.
He didn’t like this one bit.
Suddenly, a wave of urgency swept through him and demanded that he abandon this terrible interaction.
And Anakin at once spoke, in a voice tinged with uneasiness, “Uh-um, I-I’m terribly sorry Count Andrei, but I must greet Count Nicholas at once. It is truly unbecoming and impolite of me to not have greeted him since my arrival. If you’ll excuse me.” Anakin then gave a deep bow and immediately walked away from the other man.
He then searched for Count Nicholas (and tried to keep his eyes from searching for Count Obi-wan instead) and at once, greeted him. Count Nicholas was all smiles and received him merrily. After that, he greeted a few others and then started walking towards the balcony.
He terribly needed some air.
God, these dinner parties were truly awful.
As he walked with his head low, he felt relieved that he hadn’t sighted Count Obi-wan, for he knew that the sight of the old man with Lady Katerina would shatter him.
He couldn’t wait to leave St. Petersburg soon.
He had endured so much and now, he just yearned for a little peace.
Anakin’s feet clicked against the polished, marble floor as the cacophony of sounds coming from the party faded to the background. He knew he was near when he felt the fresh draught of air kiss his heated cheeks.
Slowly, he moved his eyes up and then at once, blood drained from his face.
His mouth fell open and he stared in horror.
There in front of him, in the balcony stood, the half of his whole, his comes animae with his arms around lady Katerina.
And Anakin felt his heart give out.
The pale moonlight as well as the dim light from the party bathed them, as Lady Katerina, who looked completely besotted slowly, drew her face closer to the other man. Even though the light was sparse still Anakin could see hesitancy flit across her face, as if she were scared and unsure. However, she continued to close the distance between their faces.
At first, the man’s brows had risen up in a surprised arc at her actions but then his face had settled into a heated and sure expression. Then, the man did something which felt like a knife piercing into Anakin’s already dead heart. Count Obi-wan, who was clearly impatient gripped Lady Katerina’s jaw with his large hand which caused a high-pitched squeak to spill from the lady’s lips and drew their faces into a hot, deep kiss.
And Anakin felt a sharp, powerful and invisible shove to his chest which caused him to lose his footing and stumble back.
Agony.
Pure agony, swept through him. It encased him fully, taking his breath away and propelled him into a chilling darkness which froze the blood in his veins. He felt as though he had descended into Dante’s ninth circle of hell, into the vast pit of icy winds and frozen lake. He felt his heart which had long ago ceased to beat, freeze and when he saw the two disconnect their lips to suck in quick breaths, and saw his comes animae place his mouth on her forehead, he at last felt his frozen heart shatter with its pieces scattering and piercing into his being.
Unbeknownst to him, a sharp painful cry had spilled from his lips, causing the two in the balcony to at once look in his direction.
Lady Katerina’s eyes widened in alarm. A loud gasp spilled from her lips as her hands flew to her face, covering her mouth. She immediately put some distance between her and the other man and seized by utter mortification, she at once fled from the balcony leaving only Anakin and the man he loved.
Initially Count Obi-wan’s face had contorted with surprise upon registering Anakin’s presence but soon enough, as Lady Katerina had fled, a cloud of anger had settled on his features and now, as he beheld Anakin, only hate dripped from his scalding gaze.
Anakin though felt truly dead and broken.
He had known that Count Obi-wan would find someone else and would, therefore, kiss and bed someone else. However, Anakin had never predicted that he would ever see the man his entire being yearned for, kissing someone else before his eyes.
And witnessing the grotesque sight in flesh had been pure torture.
Nothing could ever rival the pain that was coursing through him right now. No flesh wounds inflicted by knives or bullets could ever compare to the wound that had been inflicted by seeing his soulmate kiss another.
Anakin knew that nothing would be able to alleviate this pain.
Nothing.
Nothing.
Anakin stumbled back further and immediately broke their locked gazes. For the first time he felt his senses return, since only numbness had filled him prior and felt the wet trails of his tears drying on his cheeks. He then turned his back to the other man and just like the lady before, fled, not because of mortification but due to a broken and dead heart.
Oh, it had been terrible.
So-so terrible.
As he hastily proceeded towards the exit Anakin realized that he felt utterly deprived of his will to live.
Mayhaps, the peace he truly sought was solely in death.
Yes.
Perhaps, that was it.
Obi-wan
It was a stormy night.
The wind howled outside, causing the windows to shudder and the doors in the house to creak. The thunder rumbled loudly in the inky black sky as purple streaks of light repeatedly pierced it. The moving clouds, heavy with water, relieved themselves of their burden by making rain gush down onto the earth in a heavy, merciless downpour.
The storm was so loud that it had even frightened Ivan, who ever since Padme’s death preferred being alone. He had knocked on Obi-wan’s door, asking if he might sleep next to him. And Obi-wan to his utter delight, had tucked the boy next to his side and run his fingers through his son’s hair while narrating an old children’s tale. He had smiled as Ivan had drifted off. It was the most intimate moment they had shared in a long time and he couldn’t help but cherish it.
However, just when he was about to greeted by the soothing embrace of slumber himself, harsh, unforgiving and unceasing knocks on the door awoke him.
Swiftly, he glanced at his son and heaved a sigh of relief when he saw that the boy was still asleep. When the knocks didn’t cease, Obi-wan cursed and got up from his bed. After donning his night robe, he walked in quick, angry strides towards the main doors of the house. Just as he reached them though, Albert had already opened the doors and was talking to the rude guest who had decided to inconvenience Obi-wan at such an ungodly hour, and on a stormy night no less.
Overtaken by anger Obi-wan yelled, “Whoever in the god’s name is this?!” His voice loud and thunderous jolted Albert, who at once turned to face him.
Obi-wan’s eyebrows furrowed though when he saw Albert’s gaunt and shocked face in the yellow light of the lamp he was holding. His looked disturbed and that made Obi-wan move past him to finally face the unbidden guest.
A young boy was standing on the other side. From his clothing it was clear that he was a footman and he looked utterly distraught and haggard. His features were twisted with a sense of urgency and finally, upon seeing Obi-wan, relief appeared on his face.
“C-Count O-Obi-wan” The boy stuttered in between pants and continued, “t’s I, M-Mikhail. Lady Skywalker s-she”
Obi-wan at once straightened at the mention of lady Skywalker and his annoyance quickly evaporated only to be replaced by worry and alarm.
“Take a deep breath first and then continue.” Obi-wan said in a worried tone.
Mikhail nodded and did as Obi-wan instructed. After he had managed to calm down somewhat he spoke again, “T’s Baron Skywalker m’lord! He slit his wrists.” A look of tremendous distress then passed over his features as he continued, “ M’lord must accompany me, now! Lady’ssked me to fetch ya,M’lord! Please! Baron Skywalker live’sn danger!”
Obi-wan felt as though his breath had been knocked out of him.
A chill froze him to the spot as shock enveloped his body like a thick fog, numbing his senses. His consciousness dampened, and reality became a blur, the details of which seemed sharper yet distant. It was as if he were looking at the world through a foggy lens.
His racing mind in the grips of shock careened to a jarring halt and became empty. The canvas of his mind which was usually dotted with the vibrant colors of his many thoughts, whitened, growing devoid of them.
There were however, a series of questions that somehow appeared on the white canvas in large red lettering.
What?
Anakin had done what?
And then, waves of panic rose in him and engulfed him as realization of what the Baron had done finally dawned on him.
His tumultuous mind then spiraled, as several images flashed before his eyes, all featuring the insufferable Baron, who had apparently slit his wrists.
Suddenly, Obi-wan felt his chest constrict painfully. It became hard to breathe and he felt as though an invisible hand was squeezing the very air out of his lungs.
His mouth agape, he again regarded the young footman with wide eyes. His stomach knotted at the expression on the youth’s face which was clearly begging for his help.
Why?
Why did he do it?
Why?
In a flash, as the loud crack of thunder shook the skies, a vision then lit up the back of his mind.
The vision was from his nightmare he had had long ago. He was at the platform again and his pulse roared in his ears as he beheld the tormented wraith of Padme which was gazing back at him with sorrowful eyes. Her hands were gripping the cross as her white dress swished with the wind. She looked hauntingly beautiful and then, the powerful horn of the approaching train blared through the air.
Obi-wan thought he knew what would happen next, however suddenly a sharp light blinded him and when he opened his eyes again, the sight froze the blood in his veins. Instead of Padme, Anakin stood at the edge of the platform and just before Obi-wan could cry to make the youth stop, he leapt before the fast approaching train.
“My Lord..”
Obi-wan felt a hand touch his shoulder and found himself pulled back to the present. He sucked a shaky breath in and realized that it was Albert’s hand resting on his shoulder.
“M’lord? Should I prepare th’ carriage?” The footman looked as though he were losing his patience.
Obi-wan, utterly disoriented and still breathing in harsh, quick breaths, tried to focus on his breathing in order to ground himself in the present. He mutely nodded his head and the footman instantly rushed towards his carriage, undeterred by the unforgiving and heavy downpour.
“Fetch my bag, Albert. Hurry.” Obi-wan ordered as he hastily removed his night robe and handed it over to the head butler.
“Yes, My lord.” Albert replied and headed back into the house.
As Obi-wan stood waiting for the old man he found himself falling into yet another stupor.
This time he was standing on the balcony, facing the distraught Baron. He had just kissed Lady Katerina and to his surprise the Baron had witnessed it. A sick part of Obi-wan had felt satisfied and had even rejoiced at the pained reaction of the Baron. After all, when Obi-wan had seen the youth together with Andrei at Qui-gon’s dinner party, it had all come to light. Initially after their encounter at Count Nicholas’s ball, Obi-wan had been surprised by Anakin’s devotion. He would go so far as to say that some remote part of his being had even been moved by it. However, when he had seen Andrei and Anakin coming back from the balcony and Andrei’s arm around his waist, he had felt like an utter fool. Deep revulsion for himself and utter loathing for Anakin had then bubbled inside of him. He had been such a fool to have trusted the man who had destroyed his life.
However, he had never anticipated this.
Ever.
Why did Anakin do this?
Why?
When Anakin’s broken face flashed before his eyes, Obi-wan bit his lip.
He had a clue, but he truly did not wish to acknowledge it.
“My lord”
Obi-wan shook himself out of his stupor and grabbed his bag from Albert. To his utter surprise his hands were quivering, however, Obi-wan made sure that his face remained placid and impassive.
At once, he then disembarked the porch of his house and rushed towards the carriage.
The scene resembled those haunting paintings that Obi-wan had oft seen in art galleries, which painted and portrayed human suffering in such a vivid and gripping manner. Out of all, the most haunting had always been the portraits of a grieving Mary cradling her dying son in her arms. Those paintings would arouse such a raw emotion in Obi-wan, that he’d be unable to breathe easier in their presence. A terribly stifling and uncomfortable feeling would always gnaw at him and then he would leave the gallery at once.
Similar feeling was gnawing at him again as he beheld lady skywalker cradling her son in her arms and this time, Obi-wan knew that he would not be able to flee.
It was a horrid sight.
Lady Skywalker was wailing as she swayed an unconscious Anakin in her arms and Obi-wan found he could neither move nor breathe.
She was on the ground and had Anakin half lying on her lap. His face was white as a sheet and his lips had acquired a blue hue. His entire body was wet which meant that he had slit his wrists in the bathtub and his wrists were covered with a torn, white cloth in order to prevent further bleeding.
What a horrendous sight.
All of a sudden, his mind wandered back in time, and there the Baron stood, his face just a few inches away from Obi-wan’s .
His face, stricken and glistening with tears under the pale light of the moon filtering through the windows, told Obi-wan that he was back on the night of Count Nicholas’s ball. Then Anakin’s lips parted and…
“I-I” Anakin spoke in a raspy and strained voice, “ I k-Know you despise me. I know I-I” Anakin stammered and gasped between sobs. His voice gritty dropped an octave as he continued, “I know that I.. for w-what I’ve done, I deserve your hatred. However, I-I beg you, C-Count.” His lips trembled as his face crumpled, “I-I beg you..Do not doubt the s-sincerity of my love for you, for I would continue to love you till my dying breath.”
“M’lady, Count’s ‘ere” Mikhail said in a loud, urgent tone as he rushed past Obi-wan to sit beside the weeping woman and Obi-wan jolted back into the present.
Obi-wan, whose mind had again faded, so much so that the world had appeared to him a strange dream, felt a jolt surge through him. He found his mind which had become muddled, start to race again and his pulse which had felt like a faint drum, roar in his ears again.
His eyes instantly fell on the ashen face of Anakin and a twinge of pain shot through him.
At once, he then reached the crying woman, who herself a moment ago had been so lost in agony that she had failed to notice him.
Tremendous relief crossed over her wizened face when she saw him and immediately she cried out his name in a broken and croaking voice, “Count Obi-wan! Oh thank goodness! Save my son. Please! Save my son! Please!”
Several pleas, unceasingly spilled from her mouth as her swollen, wet and painfully red eyes met his.
Obi-wan felt a sharp ache bloom in his chest and got down on his knees, speaking in hopefully a soothing tone, “Don’t worry, My lady. I’m here. Don’t worry, please.”
Up close she looked even more terrible. It was as if she had aged a hundred years. Her face had lost all color and was covered in trails of tears that kept spilling from her eyes in an endless stream. She was still in her nightdress, which was smeared with several blotches of her son’s blood, and had forsaken all decency, though Obi-wan could hardly blame her.
Seeing a grieving mother’s anguish though provoked him into action.
Obi-wan at once seized hold of his mind and chastised it for falling into the depths of disorienting emotions. If he truly wished to save the young Baron’s life, he must at once cease to be emotional. He must don on his doctor’s robes and be stoic in the face of a traumatic situation.
Otherwise risk losing the young one.
“Now, please, My lady , you must take a deep breath and help me, alright?” Obi-wan said in an empathic tone and to his relief, the old woman nodded her head.
“Good, now can you tell me when did you find Mr Skywalker in the bathtub and could you tell me how red the color of the water was when you found him?” Obi-wan asked as he pressed the tip of his fingers against the side of the unconscious Baron’s neck.
A pulse.
Good and it wasn’t very faint either.
That’s good.
“I-I found him half an hour ago. I had an awful headache and couldn’t find my medication. I thought perhaps, he took it, so I came to his room. However, when I tried opening it, I found the door latched and that was when I knew, C-Count.” Lady Skywalker again broke into a fit of loud sobs and Obi-wan simply continued to check for vitals.
He could not spare even a second.
“I got scared and called for Mikhail. We repeatedly knocked on his door and yelled at him to open the door, but were only met with silence. I then lost my patience and ordered Mikhail to break open the door. After it finally opened, we found his bed empty and ran towards the bathroom. There he was…m-my b-boy..uh..” The old woman chocked on a sob again and continued in a hoarse voice, “I don’t understand, why- w-why would h-he….”
After checking the youth’s vitals, Obi-wan had removed the cloth around his wrists by now and cursed when he found that the gashes were too deep and that the bleeding hadn’t stopped.
He tightly wound the cloth around the youth’s wrists again and stood up to look inside the bath tub.
The reddish hue was darker than he would’ve liked and Obi-wan knew he couldn’t risk it.
Anakin might need blood.
They had no choice but to take him to the hospital at once, not to mention that he risked developing sepsis too.
Obi-wan approached the sobbing woman again and lowered himself to the knees, “Lady Skywalker, we must take him to the hospital at once. Anakin might need blood. Don’t worry, I know a good hospital around here. One of my colleague works there.”
“D-Doctor, w-will he be alright?” Lady Skywalker asked in a voice tight with trepidation.
“Yes, don’t worry, but we must hurry.” Obi-wan said with a small comforting smile on his face.
He knew he was lying because the truth was he didn’t know.
Although..
Although, from his experience, there was a greater probability of Anakin surviving this. Since, mercifully he hadn’t taken poison or worse, shot himself in the face. In those cases, the survival rate wasn’t very high, Obi-wan knew, after all he had worked many a times on those cases. However, many a times he had been surprised by nature and its workings.
“Now, please, lay him on the ground.” Obi-wan said to Lady Skywalker, who obeyed him but with a lot of hesitation. He then turned towards the footman, “ Mikhail, help me put him on the bed.”
Obi-wan carefully grabbed Anakin by his shoulders and Mikail grabbed his legs and they carefully hefted his body up and laid him on the bed.
“Now, go prepare the carriage, I’ll carry him to it. And, Lady Skywalker, you may go and embark the carriage. I’ll bring the boy.”
Both somberly nodded their heads and left.
Obi-wan then turned his gaze towards the unconscious youth and felt his heart give a painful squeeze at the sight he beheld. Anakin’s ashen face looked peaceful, which, though alluring also frightened Obi-wan. He would rather the youth gaze at him with a pained expression or lustful eyes. Heck, he even preferred Anakin’s haughty smirk to this ashen, slack face of the dead.
It surprised him, though, the absolute anguish that crashed through him and squeezed his heart.
At one point in time, if Anakin were to die, Obi-wan would have felt nothing. In fact, he would have rejoiced, as he had wanted to throttle the man to death himself. But now, it was clear to him that though he didn’t particularly like the man, he wouldn’t wish to see him die either.
Somehow, after everything, his deep-seated hatred for the man and thirst for his blood had transformed into mere dislike.
Somehow..
Obi-wan slowly lifted the unconscious man in his arms and frowned when he found the man weighed less than he had presumed. He couldn’t help admiring the beauty of the man nestled against his chest, but his jaw clenched when he felt the urge to lay a soft peck on the other man’s lips. Obi-wan stifled that urge and carried the man through the house, finally heading towards the carriage.
To his utter relief, the storm had passed and the skies were quiet again. The deep silence of the cold night greeted him as he slowly, with the help of Mikhail, placed Anakin inside the carriage and followed suit. He commanded the footman to take them to St. John’s Hospital and hoped that Konstantin was still working there.
With Konstantin’s help, Anakin’s treatment would not only begin swiftly but also run much more smoothly. After what Anakin had done, there was a high probability that his mental health would be deemed questionable. According to protocols, he would be committed to a public lunatic asylum and face legal ramifications, which Obi-wan wanted to avoid at all costs. Therefore, with Konstantin's aid, he could keep the entire matter hush-hush and save Anakin from such inhumane treatment.
He dearly hoped that they were not too late and that he would be able to save the insufferable man’s life yet again, and hopefully for the last time.
It had been a grueling two days. Just as Obi-wan had foreseen, Anakin had lost too much blood and therefore had to undergo a blood transfusion. Obi-wan thanked the gods because Konstantin was still working at the hospital, and as a result, Anakin’s treatment had run smoothly. Konstantin had taken over Anakin’s case personally and had assuaged most of Obi-wan’s worries. For his part, Obi-wan had taken care of the distraught mother of the insufferable baron. He had even asked her and Mikhail to go home the second night and stayed in the hospital in their place.
Now, on the third day, the insufferable Baron finally woke up. Konstantin, though, informed him that now that Anakin's physical wounds were taken care of, it was his mental anguish that worried him. He inquired about what Obi-wan saw as the necessary steps to address that. Obi-wan insisted that Anakin must be protected at all costs. He requested Konstantin to disregard the protocol for him and abstain from informing the police about Anakin's attempt. He categorically stated that Anakin would not go to a public asylum. Although Konstantin had initially looked weary, he then relented and agreed with Obi-wan, saying that hopefully Obi-wan knew what he was doing.
In truth, he knew that what he was doing was the right thing, but at the same time, he was highly concerned. Since it was a known fact that there was a high likelihood of a person with unresolved suicidal ideation attempting again, Obi-wan knew he must find someone who could counsel Anakin. Although psychoanalysis was a relatively new field, Obi-wan preferred it over present-day psychiatry, which treated people with mental anguish abominably. Perhaps he'll ask Konstantin for the name of a respected psychoanalyst who could help Anakin.
There weren’t many moments in his life when Obi-wan remembered ever being particularly nervous. Even when faced with a difficult case, he always had the capacity to remain calm, which helped him make correct decisions.
However, now as he stood facing the door to Anakin’s ward, he felt an unnerving flutter in his stomach that was clearly affecting his composure.
Obi-wan cursed inwardly when his heart started to pulse faster in his chest, feeling his body reverberating with each quick beat. The muscles in his body tensed at the thought of finally meeting the Baron after their last unsavory encounter.
Slowly, he clenched and unclenched his hands, walking with decisive steps toward the door of the ward. He reprimanded himself for his evident nervous disposition, considering it beneath him as he was no ordinary man but someone who had fought in bloody battles.
At last, he steeled himself and tilted his chin up. His jaw set, he opened the door and stopped short at what he saw.
Anakin was sitting on the hospital bed with his back turned to Obi-wan. When the door closed behind him, the Baron finally turned his head and glanced in Obi-wan’s direction.
Obi-wan felt his chest tighten upon seeing the tear-streaked face of the youth. Anakin's beautiful face was etched with anguish, his eyes were pools of ocean-blue sorrow, and his plushy mouth was parted in a silent plea. His strong frame, with his shoulders hunched, looked slender in the white hospital gown. In this moment, Anakin embodied resignation, as every line of his body reflected his diminished spirit.
No one who beheld him now would ever be able to reconcile this broken yet beautiful image of Anakin with the brave and haughty Baron he had once been.
“Why?” Anakin spoke in a rough voice and faced the windows again. “Why did you save me? Why could you not have just let me die?”
Obi-wan lowered his head at the quivering voice of the young man. There was rawness in his strained voice, each syllable seemed to tremble and spoke of the wounds still fresh.
When Obi-wan was about to give a reply though Anakin cut him off.
“I know what you’re about to say. I know that your profession dictates that you serve even the enemy. However, sometimes it’s more merciful to just let the enemy die.” Anakin spoke in a pained voice which seemed to be on the precipice of breaking. It was as if he was holding back a torrent emotions too vast to contain.
Obi-wan felt a heavy weight settle upon his chest at those words and spoke in a heavy, deep voice, “I don’t view you as my enemy, Anakin.”
At those words, the Baron stood up at once and faced him. His face contorting with anger, he replied with a biting tone, “ Really, Count? Then how is it that you view me?” Slowly, with his body tensed, his shoulders squared and his muscles taut and coiled like springs under pressure, he stalked towards Obi-wan.
Obi-wan’s own body tensed reflexively. His fingers curled into fists at his sides, knuckles turning white from the unconscious grip.
However, when his eyes took in the other man’s bandaged wrists, sorrow pricked him.
Anakin, stopped only a few inches away from him. In the line of his jaw and the slight clench of his teeth Obi-wan could sense turbulent emotions simmering beneath his skin.
A stifling pause later, in which they had continued to heatedly look into each other’s eyes, Anakin finally averted his eyes and released a bitter chuckle, “ Do you think it is not evident, Count? Do you think I don’t see the hate in your eyes for me?”
Obi-wan’s eyes widened at Anakin’s words. They locked eyes again and Anakin continued in a tight voice, “It is clear that you resent me. I don’t blame you though. After all who would not resent me after what I did..” His voice softened at the end, carrying with it a tremor of sadness.
“I do not hate you, Anakin.” Obi-wan said in a matter-of- fact tone.
A flurry of emotions crossed over Anakin’s face, surprise, confusion, disbelief and lastly bitterness.
“Do you take me for a fool, Count?” Anakin scoffed, his eyes narrowing bitterly, “Do you truly not hate me. The man who bedded your dead wife?”
A sudden, visceral rage overtook Obi-wan at those taunting words, overwhelming him with its savage intensity and he grabbed the front of Anakin’s hospital gown, yanking him closer.
“Do not test my patience, Baron.” Obi-wan said in a sharp voice dripping with venom. His tone was clipped, every syllable enunciated with a precision that underscored his crackling fury.
Anakin looked as though he’d just proved his point.
“I know you hate me. Therefore, I beg you, just let me die. I can’t endure this any longer. Let justice be done. Let yourself be avenged. Let Padme get her peace, since I was the one who killed her.”
Obi-wan’s anger evaporated just as swiftly as it had come on. His demeanor softened, and the once ferocious flame of anger was now reduced to flickering embers of remorse.
A sigh escaped his lips, a weary exhale as he removed his grip on Anakin’s hospital gown.
"I do not wish for you to die, Anakin, nor do I seek any revenge," Obi-wan said, his voice tinged with regret at his sudden outburst.
Anakin’s eyes flickered over his face and suddenly, a wetness filled them, followed by a solitary tear that slid down his cheek and lingered on the curve of his chin.
"You do resent me, Count, but of course, your nobility and tender heart have always been your weaknesses, which I didn’t shy away from exploiting."
Obi-wan felt a tendril of irritation prick him at those words and his lips thinned.
“At this point, you’re just trying to provoke me, Baron.” Obi-wan said with an edge to his voice.
More tears streamed down Anakin’s face in glistening rivulets, tracing a path through delicate contours of his face. His crying face was a canvas of his raw vulnerability as spoke up again, “ I do not wish to live any longer. I’m in too much pain.” Anakin averted his eyes as he continued in a wavering tone, “Have mercy on me, Count.”
Obi-wan’s eyes darted about Anakin’s face, and guilt gnawed at his insides.
“Why do you wish to die, Anakin?” Obi-wan asked in voice heavy with sympathy.
“How could I not long for the kiss of death, if the one who completes me loathes me and longs for another ?” Anakin whispered softly and then he walked away from Obi-wan.
Obi-wan looked at the crumpled back of Anakin and waves of guilt washed over him. His shoulders slumped forward and his hands hung limply at his sides.
He felt helpless.
Truly helpless.
“Please, Count. Just let me die and have peace.” Anakin’s voice sounded numb and was devoid of its usual inflictions and cadence. Each syllable fell flat against the air and carried a sense of detachment which was very worrisome.
Perhaps, it was too soon for them to be having a conversation, given Anakin’s fragile mental state.
Perhaps, he should’ve waited.
“I can’t allow that, Anakin.” Obi-wan said in a concerned voice. “I think it prudent that you get some rest, we shall tal—”
“Go! Please! Go! Just leave me be! Go!” Anakin’s shrill voice, screeching with his volatile emotions, caught Obi-wan off guard.
His eyes widened in alarm, and he recoiled from the shocking display.
“I can’t do this anymore! I want to die! I want to die!”
Anakin’s visceral screaming continued and Obi-wan, who was in the grips of shock didn’t know how to react.
Suddenly, the door to the ward opened and in rushed a group of people: two nurses and two men. They all grabbed Anakin, who was still screaming at Obi-wan to leave.
A hand suddenly rested on his shoulder and jolted him. Obi-wan turned his head and locked eyes with Konstantin, whose gaze was filled to the brim with pity. Recognizing Obi-wan’s disoriented state immediately, Konstantin led him out of the room. Obi-wan couldn’t help but look at Anakin as he was taken away. The last thing he saw before the doors closed was a nurse injecting a teary-eyed Anakin, who was losing energy and consciousness by the minute.
“I’m sorry, Obi-wan,” Konstantin began in a sympathetic tone, “but it would be better if you do not visit him for some time. Clearly, his mental state is quite fragile.”
Obi-wan, still shaken by what he had just witnessed, nodded mutely.
“Good. I think it will be prudent to keep him here for at least a couple of days. Don’t worry, I will not inform the police or send him to a psychiatric facility. However, we need to figure out a way to help him, Obi-wan. I was thinking of psychoanalysis. It’s a relatively new field but it is surely gaining relevance. I have the contact information of a respected psychoanalyst, Dr. Valentin Arsenyev. If you want, I can contact him.” Konstantin looked at him expectantly.
Obi-wan swallowed and nodded again. Still reeling from shock, his demeanor was dazed and his composure shattered. Somehow, he found the strength to muster a reply, “Yes. Thank you. Please do that.”
“Alright. Just come by whenever you want. Take care, Obi-wan,” Konstantin gave him a small, reassuring smile and then went back inside Anakin’s ward.
Obi-wan closed his eyes and exhaled heavily.
God, he felt weary to the bone.
He was so tired.
So utterly exhausted.
He needed a cigar and a drink, at once.
A week later….
A week had passed since he last saw Anakin. Although Obi-wan had regularly visited the hospital till the Baron’s stay. He had only met up with Konstantin to acquire updates on the Baron’s health. Konstantin had kept Anakin in the hospital for three more days and on the last day, had wearily asked Obi-wan about how he would ensure the safety of the young man.
Obi-wan had reassured him by informing him that he had already discussed the matter with Lady Skywalker. They had agreed to remove Anakin’s door and keep him under constant surveillance by Lady Skywalker and the household staff. Konstantin was thus, reassured and allowed Anakin to go home.
Additionally, Konstantin informed him that Dr. Valentin Arsenyev had already started sessions with Anakin. However, there was little improvement in Anakin’s mental state, and it would take some time before he showed signs of recovery.
For Obi-wan, though, the past week had been nerve-wracking, so much so that he had drunk and smoked daily. He had also reflected on all that had transpired between him and Anakin. He recognized that initially, Anakin had done a terrible thing: he had broken a home to satisfy his own whim, which had ultimately led to the destruction of several lives, including his own. He also recognized that Padme was at fault too. She had been blinded by her own desires and had done something unforgivable in his eyes. However, Obi-wan had not been without fault either. His malice had also led him towards committing actions which, in retrospect, were anything but virtuous. He had been blinded by his resentment and had in turn hurt many as well.
It was akin to a tragedy, a Shakespearean play, their lives entwined with his, Padme's, and Anakin’s fates leading them down a path of abject misery. In this play, none were innocent, and each sowed the seed of their own destruction.
This conclusion that he had reached led him to where he stood now. The truth was, he didn’t resent Anakin anymore, and he didn’t wish ill upon him either. All he wanted now was to put an end to this tragedy. That was it.
It was time for this sorrowful play and this dance of pain to cease entirely.
Obi-wan took a deep inhale and knocked on the doors. He waited with bated breath, which he released when the doors finally opened to reveal Mikhail, the footman. Mikhail inclined his head and led him inside. Obi-wan lightly nodded and followed the man into the drawing room where Lady Skywalker was already present, sipping her tea and beaming upon seeing him.
“Ah! Count Obi-wan! It is a pleasure to see you again!” Lady Skywalker stood up at once and held his hands in her own. “Oh! It's splendid that you decided to visit us. Mikhail, would you please fetch more cookies and cake? I must treat my guest appropriately. Also, bring an extra teacup and saucer, the best ones we have.”
“You do not have to do any of this, My Lady,” he replied with a smile. “I’m not just a guest, I hope.”
“Oh! Of course not! You’re a dear friend, not just a guest, which is why it is important that we serve you even better! So that you keep visiting us. Now please, take a seat, would you?” Lady Skywalker directed him to sit beside her, and he obeyed.
“So, how are you doing, Count?” Lady Skywalker asked.
Warmth flooded Obi-wan’s chest when she entwined their hands again.
“I’m doing better, My Lady. How about you?”
“Oh! I don’t know where to begin…” Suddenly, Lady Skywalker’s face fell, and she turned her sad eyes toward Obi-wan. “Anakin hasn’t said a word since he came back from the hospital.” Her voice was a soft whisper as she glanced quickly in the direction of what was clearly Anakin’s room, now deprived of a door. “I’m glad he at least talks to Dr. Valentin, but from what the doctor told me, most of their talks are about mundane stuff. I’m really worried, Count. But you’ve already done so much for us, for which I’m eternally grateful. It doesn’t become me to ramble about my life’s troubles.”
Mikhail then entered the drawing room, carrying a tray with the finest china and several delicacies. Lady Skywalker stood up and began making tea for him, inquiring about how he liked his beverage.
“You don’t have to do this, My Lady. Please.”
“Oh! Forgo these formalities, please, Count!” Lady Skywalker waved her hand and handed him his tea. She then sat down beside him again and resumed sipping hers.
“Now, do tell us why you decided to grace us with your delightful presence, Count.”
Obi-wan felt a flutter of nervousness rise in his chest at those words and glanced toward Anakin’s room. His eyes widened slightly when he saw a shadow move quickly behind a wall where a door would usually be attached. His pulse quickened and roared in his ears as he returned his gaze to Lady Skywalker, who patiently waited for his reply.
“Ah, well, you see, I’ll be leaving St. Petersburg in a couple of days. So, I thought I should pay you a proper visit before I leave, and…” Obi-wan felt his throat constrict and swallowed nervously. His eyes again darted to the room without a door as he spoke again in a tight voice, “I—I was thinking…”
“Yes?” Lady Skywalker lowered her teacup and looked at him expectantly.
God, nervousness surely didn’t become him. He despised being nervous; after all, this feeling was so strange to him.
“Ah… you see, I wanted to invite Anakin for tea before leaving.” Obi-wan said finally and released a heavy exhale.
For a moment, Lady Skywalker simply gawked at him, then swiftly brightened up. “Oh! Oh, that is delightful! Yes! Oh, I’m sure Anakin would be so happy! Oh, Count, he would surely come! I’ll inform him about the invite! This is wonderful!” Lady Skywalker beamed with joy, her eyes crinkling at the corners as her cheeks puffed up with delight.
Obi-wan nervously glanced toward Anakin’s room again.
“I think it’s prudent that we set aside our differences in a manner that is appropriate for men of our age and make a concerted effort towards remedying our past errors.” Obi-wan said deliberately in a loud and resolute voice, hoping it would reach the shadow hiding behind the wall.
“Oh, this is splendid! I’m so glad. Thank you, Count. Thank you.” Lady Skywalker looked extremely grateful, and Obi-wan’s lips curved into a small smile.
He stayed for some time as they talked—well, truth be told, it was Lady Skywalker who did most of the talking while Obi-wan patiently listened. Then, he bid her goodbye and left.
Before he left, though, he had glanced toward the doorless room once more, perhaps wanting to catch a glimpse of the other man for what could possibly be the last time, since he didn’t know if Anakin would actually accept his invite.
When he had seen only the empty interior of the room, his shoulders had slumped with disappointment and his heart had sunk under the weight of sadness and quiet resignation.
Perhaps this was the end for them, and this was how their story ended.
In tragedy.
Their story had been a dark, convoluted web interwoven with threads of loss, sorrow, and immense suffering.
Perhaps it was better that it came to an end.
After all, they had suffered enough.
Notes:
Up next the last chapter! Let’s just say the fic will finally live up to its smut tags( and more will be added ofcourse).hehehe
Chapter 7: Sensit sicut somnium
Notes:
Sensit sicut somnium :- It felt like a dream.
music that Obi-wan plays :- Moonlight sonata- Beethovan
Franz schubert:- Piano sonata no. 20 in A Major, D.959.ll Adantino
Do give these pieces a listen. They're truly remarkable.All right folks! This is it! The ending! I hope you'll enjoy the last chapter. Thank you so much for all the lovely comments and kudos<3
Also Folks you can hit me up on here :
https://www.tumblr.com/echosofmydreams
Chapter Text
For despite all that has come to pass, the world will carry you with it, and in this river of time and life, your former wounds will wash away, until finally it will strip you of your flesh and bones, and as you finally acquire your true form and become a mere drop within it, all pain will at last cease to exist.
Such is the law of life.
Anakin
Why am I here?
Why?
I shouldn’t be here.
No.
Beyond these doors lay the sole reason for his torment: the one whom every fiber of his being yearned for, but also the one his rationality demanded he stay away from. And yet, here he was.
When the Count had come to their house and invited Anakin for tea, he had been gobsmacked. After all, Anakin could still recall their rather unpleasant encounter at the hospital. Since Anakin wasn’t particularly thrumming with joy after being saved, he had been quite angry and as a result had lashed out at the old man.
After all, he didn't want to be saved.
He had wanted to die.
And God, it had been utter hell.
Waking up.
He had, after all, said good riddance to this horrid proposition called life. When he had slit his wrists and watched the blood ooze out of his gashes, he had felt an encompassing tranquility descend on him. There had been no pain as he’d watched his blood run down his hands in rivulets. When he had submerged his hands into the water and seen his blood mingle and entwine with it, he had felt completely enraptured by the beautiful sight. It made sense to him then when his bathwater had turned red, as to why the Greeks had held that all things arose from water. And then he had closed his eyes as he patiently waited for death to come bearing its scythe. However, death had not come and he was thrust back into the agony that was his life.
And now he was going to meet the very man who had robbed Anakin of his one chance at peace.
He shouldn’t have come.
Perhaps, he should go back.
Yes.
Yes.
And, yet his feet stayed planted on Count’s doorstep.
He felt helpless.
Suddenly, his mind, ever the torturer, showed him the very incident that had propelled him into attempting to take his own life and Anakin’s hands balled into fists at his sides. He could still see it vividly in his mind’s eye. Lady Katerina bringing her face closer to the Count, who initially shocked by the daring action had then swiftly drawn their faces close to plant a hot kiss on the lady.
God, it still hurt.
The very imagery of it caused a stabbing pain to shoot through him again.
Mayhaps, it would be better if he went back.
What would they talk about anyway?
Although Anakin (who had hidden in his doorless room and eavesdropped) had heard the Count say that he wanted them to mend their differences together and move past the tragic events, Anakin wasn’t quite sure how that could be a possibility. The fissure between them was too deep and wide, especially since Padme’s suicide.
It was clear, despite the Count’s insistence on the matter, that he truly hated Anakin. The only reason why the older man had saved Anakin and invited him for tea was because he felt responsible for Anakin’s attempt. The truth was that he wasn’t.
The reason why Anakin had wanted to die was that he recognized his own insanity, his sinister madness that wore the garb of love.
It was truly sly how it had masqueraded as something beautiful, pure, and innocent. Anakin had felt its seed burrow into his skin, had felt it grow into a seedling, and then felt it become heavy with small buds. Thus, by the time it had bloomed into flowers, Anakin had fully embraced it, by plucking its flowers and adorning his being with it, so much so that at one point he was buried under its petals. And then one day he had felt their heavy weight press into him. By that time, though he was suffocating, dying ever so slowly under the weight of insanity that he had mistaken for love.
Eventually, he found himself completely surrounded by that madness, its tendrils reaching into every part of him. That's why when the Count had come to see him at the hospital, looking worried and painfully handsome, Anakin had instantly crumbled. The same insanity had gripped him once more, and he wanted nothing more than to be closer to the other man.
Not to mention when he had come to invite Anakin for tea at their flat in St. Petersburg, Anakin had felt that madness grip him again, making his heart pound faster in his chest as he had sneaked a glimpse of the other man.
Indeed, it was that very madness that had made him agree to the said invitation, and now he stood facing the doors to Count’s house.
I don’t know, if I can do this..
Face him again…
Anakin could already feel his chest tighten with trepidation. Air spilled out of him in shallow, uneven bursts, causing his chest to rise and fall rapidly. He cursed inwardly when he noticed that his hands were trembling slightly. To steady himself, he clenched and unclenched his fists repeatedly, trying to regain control over his emotions.
He could feel his anxiety mounting like a relentless tide. His thoughts spiraled and he saw scenarios, each dire than the last flash through his mind, causing a ripple of unease to go through him.
Just when he was about to surrender and turn on his heels though, the huge mahogany doors opened suddenly with a loud groan and Anakin’s heart leapt into his throat.
Albert stood on the other side, facing him with a small, polite smile plastered on his face.
In all of their short encounters, the old man had never smiled at Anakin even once, hence, Anakin’s anxious heart didn’t ease even a little. His pulse was still very much erratic and his breathing still shallow and rapid, as Anakin beheld the man with growing uncertainty.
“Good evening, Baron”, The old man began in an emphatic, serious voice, as if he were addressing someone of high upstanding and not Anakin who had ruined his master’s life. “ Welcome to Kenobi Manor Apartments. Count is eagerly anticipating your arrival for tea.”
Anakin inclined his head nervously.
“Very well, sir. Do come in.” The old man then opened the doors wider for him and with a graceful gesture invited him in.
Anakin, who still had knots in his stomach, nodded his head mutely and cautiously stepped inside.
“Sir, Count has requested that I escort you to the music room. If you’ll follow me, please.”
Anakin again gave a slight nod and followed the old man through the Count’s opulent flat.
However, with each step that brought him closer to the destination, his trepidation grew.
The burden of their imminent encounter weighed heavy on his heart, which he could feel was already cracking under its weight.
God, he didn’t want to be here at all.
He shouldn’t have come.
Suddenly, a faint sound of a piano being played reached his ears and his eyes widened slightly. Slowly as they drew closer to the music room, the sound which had been a mere whisper carried on a breeze, became clearer and louder. And, Anakin’s pulse in tandem grew louder in his ears as well.
It was a haunting melody, the notes of which hung in the air like tendrils of mist. Its gentle notes were like the caresses of a lover, soothing yet scalding. They felt like touches that reached the very core of him, invasive and unrelenting but at the same time addictive and pleasing.
The music was beautiful but frightening. It ebbed and flowed, much like the waves that quietly lapped at the shore, which although looked inviting and harmless, possessed the capacity to drown and reel one into its dark bosom. And Anakin felt like he had been reeled and was now slowly descending towards the dark depths.
Anakin felt seized by the haunting notes. He felt wholly captivated by the chords that spoke of longing and sorrow, of life and death, of love and loss, of heaven and hell and so many innumerable things. They tugged at his heart, pulling it apart at the very seams.
When they finally reached the closed doors through which the soft timbre of piano spilled out, Anakin took a shaky inhale. Albert gently opened the doors and Anakin felt an indescribable and unknown emotion seize hold of his heart.
His heart faltered over its rhythm when his eyes met Count Obi-wan's, who was sitting behind the piano. And, Anakin felt that unknown feeling tightening its claws around his weak heart. When the Count tilted his chin slightly and his eyes darkened, its claws finally pierced Anakin’s beating organ and he could feel himself dwindle under the penetrating gaze, growing weak as blood gushed out of his heart in spurts.
It was truly frightening, the discord that the other man's mere gaze caused in Anakin.
Truly frightening, the absolute power the man held over him.
Anakin jolted when he felt a hand touch his shoulder, and he broke their eye contact to behold the surprisingly gentle eyes of the head butler, who gestured for him to enter the room. Anakin lightly nodded his head and took a shaky step inside. His eyes again faced the front and looked at the Count, who, to his relief, had closed his eyes as he played the piano.
With slow, measured steps he then entered the room as if he were entering not a music room but a lion’s den and his shoulders jumped to his ears at the soft click of the doors closing behind him.
Now Anakin found himself alone in the room with Count Obi-wan and that extremely vexing yet graceful melody which the man played on his ornate piano.
It was a beautiful song, the notes of which drifted through the air like wisps of smoke. They were gentle and light, like echoes of the harmony produced by nature.
Count’s eyes were surprisingly still closed as his fingers moved effortlessly across the ivory keys and Anakin lowered himself into a chair that was close but thankfully still somewhat distant from the other man.
Just when he thought that the melody was reaching its end with its fading, whisper-like notes though, his eyes widened as the melody swelled in intensity instead. Slowly, the notes of it climbed higher and higher with each passing phrase. The ascending scale of the soaring melody quickened his breathing, agitating him. It caused eruption of nervous flutters in his gut, however at the same time he was riveted, for the notes were awe-inspiringly beautiful.
Suddenly, his breath hitched when Count Obi-wan opened his eyes and looked at him. His heated gaze caused Anakin’s throat to constrict and he swallowed. Just as swiftly the older man closed his eyes though and then the music descended into a discordant yet mesmerizing mixture of notes that defied conventional harmony.
The melody, meandered through the air like a roaring river, the notes of which twisted and turned like river’s unpredictable waters, threatening to submerge everyone with its might. Each dissonant clash of tones created an atmosphere charged with uncertainty and intrigue. It was as if the wrestling notes conveyed the pandemonium of the emotions which were unravelling within the Count himself.
And Anakin was spellbound.
The Count’s face mirrored the intensity of the music, his eyebrows were contracted in a manner which the caused the gap between them to disappear and his jaw was tense. His eyes were still shut as his hands moved swiftly and purposefully over the keys.
God, he looked spectacular.
The melody then finally reached its climax, causing Anakin’s pounding heart to cease for a moment, and then slowly it descended, with a series of jagged intervals and unresolved tension into the similar gentle harmony from earlier.
Count then opened his eyes as he led the melody towards its end. His gaze, which was locked with Anakin, also grew softer with each tender, fading note.
Finally, the music ceased and silence surrounded them.
Anakin, whose pulse was still erratically echoing in his ears, averted his eyes and looked down at his entwined hands in his lap.
He knew he should compliment the Count for his spectacular and enthralling performance but Anakin found that he was tongue-tied and words eluded him. Therefore, silence ever so slowly thickened around them, causing unease to ripple through him.
“Schubert”
Anakin flinched at the sudden crack in the silence and looked at Count Obi-wan who was regarding him with unusually tender eyes.
"Franz Schubert, the creator of this sonata. Isn’t he marvelous?" Count Obi-Wan’s deep voice sounded pleased as the corners of his lips pulled into a small smile.
"Oh," Anakin began, with a knot of uncertainty tightening in his chest, "I-I see. Yes. Ah, I mean, i-it is wonderful." Anakin stammered and cursed inwardly.
"Here," Count Obi-Wan then slid a little to make space on the bench beside him, "Why don’t you come and sit with me, Baron? Any requests? Dare I say that I am perfectly adept at playing most composers, for my mother insisted I study music religiously. Unlike some theists who regard music as the sound of the devil, my mother thought it to be the language of the divine. And if I should believe in a God, Baron, I should like Him to be a musician."
Anakin swallowed drily and his body grew tense instantly at Count’s request.
Dear God.
Slowly, he got up from his chair and his stomach contracted into a ball, as he walked towards the piano. He then lowered himself next to the Count, ensuring that there was sufficient space between their bodies, which wasn’t much, since the bench was quite small.
"So, any requests, Baron?"
"Uh, I-I don’t know any... I-uh," Anakin admitted, and a flush crept up his cheeks. He refused to glance in the Count’s direction and kept his gaze trained on the ivory keys.
It was the truth. Anakin had never cared for music. Ever since he was young, his only dream had been to join the army.
"I see, then I shall play you a piece I regard as the embodiment of beauty on earth," the Count declared.
Count’s hands then hovered over the keys, poised in a manner that spoke of years of practice. His elegant fingers gently caressed the ivory keys with reverence, and then they started dancing across them in a purposeful and precise manner. The melody filled the room, and truth be told, there were no words that could ever relay its beauty. It stirred such indescribable feelings, unlocked such strange doors in his being that he never even knew existed. Its splendor was so blinding that Anakin felt a tremulous tendril of fear entwine his heart. He never knew that a piece of music could ever stir him to such an extent. He felt each note pierce and linger in his soul, each chord evoke and scrape his being to unearth all the melancholy and sorrow he had buried within him. He felt it all come to the fore: images of distant landscapes, memories of his childhood, memories of the past few years, and the deep longing for the man currently seated next to him, playing said melody.
Halfway through the melody, their eyes met, and Anakin felt a shiver run down his spine. Despite the tingling and unpleasant sensation though he couldn’t look away, for Count’s gaze held him prisoner. He felt bound by the cerulean blue eyes that glistened with something inexplicable and yet totally familiar. The scorching gaze burned him and then swiftly Count looked away, his gaze refocusing on his moving hands. However, Anakin kept looking at the man, for he felt tethered to him.
By the time the melody ended, Anakin had been moved to the point of tears.
"Beethoven's 'Moonlight Sonata' : the sole composition that has ever brought tears to my eyes." The Count remarked and then glanced in Anakin’s direction. His eyes widened slightly and then his face contorted with concern, “Anakin.” He whispered Anakin’s name softly and turned his body towards him.
Anakin was a mess by now, he had a stream of tears spilling from his eyes and tracing wet paths down his cheeks. His lips quivered slightly as he struggled to contain his turbulent emotions that overwhelmed him.
“Anakin," Count spoke his name again in an infuriating whisper. Slowly, he raised his hand and brought it closer to Anakin’s face, who immediately flinched away. At his reaction, Count’s eyes glimmered with sadness and the corners of his lips lowered.
“Anakin. It is alright. I do not intend to hurt you at all. My sole reason for inviting you is to endeavor towards a peaceful resolution of our conflict. I just want this. That is all,” Count said in a voice lilted with sadness.
Anakin, for his part, was completely overcome with sorrow. He wiped his tears with the back of his wrist and released a shaky breath. His shoulders drooped, and he folded in on himself, wrapping his arms around his waist as if in an attempt to shield his heart from further pain.
He didn’t know what to say to the man sitting next to him. It was as if they stood on completely opposing paths, where Anakin’s entire being yearned for the older man, Count just wanted them to finish things on a rather amiable note.
It hurt him tremendously, the thought, that both of them would have tea, end things once and for all, and then go their own merry ways. The truth was he didn’t want that. He didn’t want their paths to separate, but that was what was truly imminent, and Anakin could do nothing about it.
Oh, he shouldn’t have come.
“Anakin” Count murmured his name in a tortuously, sweet voice and Anakin closed his eyes. “forgive me... I’m unable to help myself…” He finished in a breathy voice. And then Anakin’s entire body stiffened at the most unexpected, gentlest touch from the other man. Count Obi-wan had closed the space between them and now ever so gently rubbed their cheeks together. He then withdrew and nosed Anakin’s wet cheek softly. Anakin though, had stopped breathing as surprise had taken of him.
His eyes snapped open, but he didn’t see anything as his heart pounded in his chest and a tingle spread across his cheek, where the Count touched.
What was happening?
What was Count doing?
“I had fully intended this to be a cordial meeting between us,” Count Obi-wan began in a husky voice as he placed his hand on the side of Anakin’s neck, whose pulse had quickened by now. “However, it is clear to me now that would not happen.” His thumb caressed the line of Anakin’s jaw as Count hotly whispered the next few words into his ear, “Since my control has slipped and I can no longer resist your charms, Baron.”
Deep, painful, and encompassing yearning for the other man stole the air from his lungs, leaving him breathless. He felt the rapid rise and fall of his chest as breathing became laborious and sucked in harsh, quick breaths. A nerve-wracking and fluttering feeling suddenly passed through his stomach when Count gently turned his face. He felt a jolt of electricity course through him when finally, their eyes met.
Count’s cerulean blue eyes had darkened at the edges. His hot gaze explicitly showed his bubbling desire for Anakin, who at once melted under its scrutiny.
“I must admit, over the years I have tried to flee from my desires,” Count spoke in a voice taking on a reflective tone, “especially in regard to you, Baron. However, when I could no longer run from them, or evade them, I tried to conceal them by bottling them up, or worse, using others’ warmth to calm them, at least for a while. However, when I saw you again, they resurfaced with a vehemence that was quite overwhelming. And, blinded by them, I made choices which ultimately ended up harming you instead. For this, I seek your forgiveness.”
Anakin’s eyes widened at the words that slipped from the Count’s lips.
Was he dreaming?
He must be dreaming! He must be!
Those words felt too incongruous, coming out of Count’s mouth. How could such words come out of a man who loathed him?
“The truth is Anakin…” Count then drew their faces close, too close and his scorching breath ghosted on Anakin’s lips as he continued, “You have bewitched me.”
Sensit sicut somnium.
It felt like a dream.
Anakin didn’t know if the moment he was entrapped in was a figment of his imagination or real.
He felt as though he were in a waking dream, for it felt too surreal and fantastical. It was as if his consciousness was oscillating between real and ethereal at the same time.
It was jarring but at the same time, wonderful.
"I must confess, I fancy you, Baron, to a rather uncomfortable degree," Count declared empathically, in a heated whisper to his face, then swooped in to lay a hot, searing kiss.
A small, pained voice unexpectedly spilled from him when their lips touched. The sound was born out of a part of him that was incredulous but also somewhat weary and distrustful. Count, clearly sensing his unease, disconnected their kiss and ghosted his parted lips on his wet cheek for a hot moment. He then rubbed their cheeks together and spoke again, "You tremble. Fear not, my dear. I shall not harm you," he reassured, lightly pecking Anakin's cheek. "Unless, of course, you wish otherwise." He added darkly.
Anakin’s heart skipped a beat at those words, and a prickling sensation shot up his spine. He felt a rush of warmth spreading from his chest to his fingertips as his being was ignited with the flickering flames of his arousal.
God, he felt hot. It was as if his entire body were ablaze.
Count then swiftly grabbed the back of his neck and pressed their mouths together.
This time though his lips were unrelenting. They were not a tender press from earlier; no, this time they were forceful, determined and hungry.
Anakin’s heart thudded in his chest when Count mercilessly licked at his lips. A soft cry escaped him when teeth nipped at his mouth, biting into the sensitive flesh. And he jolted, when a tongue pressed between his parted lips, slipping inside.
He felt dizzy from the heady sensation that gripped him as their lips met, disconnected, and met again in a sultry dance.
And Anakin realized that he was utterly lost.
"Turn around and place your chest against it. Yes, just so. Excellent."
Anakin’s entire body quivered as he followed Count’s instructions. He placed his hands on the polished, black lid of the piano and lowered himself to it, pressing his chest against the cold, hard surface. Blood rushed to his face and warmed his cheeks as gnawing embarrassment along with flaming arousal surged in him.
God, when he had come here, he had never thought that this would happen.
After Count had repeatedly laid searing kisses on his lips, he had disconnected their wet lips and looked at Anakin as if he wanted to devour him. He had brushed their lips together once more and then with their breaths intermingling, had told Anakin in a shockingly crass manner that he wanted to take him then and there on the piano.
Anakin, for his part had simply gawked at the man. He had been so astonished that he had been rendered speechless and immobile, which didn’t surprise Count in the least as he continued to behold Anakin with his cerulean blue eyes, which were growing darker by the minute. “Let me have you, Baron.” He had darkly whispered against Anakin lips and then pulled him into another desperate kiss.
Anakin had responded fervently then for the first time as he had poured his years of painful longing into the kiss. Count, upon noticing the desperate press of his wet mouth, lost whatever little control he had and growled into the kiss, which at once made Anakin go weak in the knees. After that he broke their kiss and got up from the bench, taking off his suit jacket, which he then threw to the floor. Anakin had then watched the man with wide eyes as he at last closed the lid of the piano and beckoned for him to come closer.
And as if pulled by an invisible thread that bound him to the older man, Anakin had followed him. The Count had then kissed him some more and divested him of his clothing, leaving only an opened white shirt on him.
Now, Anakin lay helpless and in agony of a much sweeter kind, against the lid of the piano, awaiting the scorching touch of the man he loved.
“God, you look divine like this, Baron.” Count Obi-wan said in a low, raspy tone.
Anakin squeezed his eyes shut when a large, strong hand suddenly grabbed the back of his neck, “I must say, you look especially beautiful like this” Rough fingers lightly squeezed his neck and Anakin shuddered as a hot, wet mouth pressed against his nape, “all at my mercy.”
Another hand grabbed his hip with a bruising strength, its fingernails biting into his skin.
“I know, Baron that I could exert my will upon you as I please." Anakin swallowed when he felt fingers carding through his hair and gasped when suddenly they coiled into a tight fist. His brows knitted when Count pressed his head harder against the polished lid. “If I wanted to fuck your mouth, or blind fold you, I know you’ll let me.” Anakin bit his lip to curtail a whimper from slipping from his lips as heat coiled in his gut at those words.
Harsh breaths fogged the black surface of the lid as Anakin’s chest rapidly rose and fell. “If I wanted to bite you to taste your blood, I know you’ll let me.” Count Obi-wan, in tandem with his words then bit into the skin between Anakin’s neck and his shoulder, and a groan immediately fell from his lips.
“If I wanted to tie you up, to use you in any way I wished, I know you’ll let me.” The Count muttered darkly against the trembling skin of his back. His hot breath fanned and caused gooseflesh to breakout against the bitten, sensitive flesh. “If I wanted to fuck you in front of others, I know you’ll let me.” A pained sound then ripped from him when a wet tongue swiped at the fresh bite. “Am I correct? Anakin.” Anakin shivered as the wetness cooled on his burning skin.
"Surely, I speak the truth, do I not?"
Yes.Yes.Yes.
A no. of yeses resounded in his mind, however, none made it past his lips, for admittedly, Anakin was a coward. How could he let the Count know, how much of a debased individual he truly was? And so he remained mute, but his body reacted viciously to Count’s words as his blood pooled downward towards his hardening cock.
"Is that not the case, Anakin?" Clearly, Count was not accepting silence as an answer. It was apparent from the slicing edge to his voice that he was determined to elicit a response from Anakin.
Anakin though remained resolute. He kept his mouth sealed even as shivers cascaded down his body.
Count tutted at his continued silence and did something that was so shocking, so jarring, that Anakin’s lips at once parted to let out a strangled yelp. A hard hand landed a tight smack against the trembling skin of Anakin’s ass, causing his heart to leap in its cage.
“I do not take to disobedience well, Baron. So, I must warn you. Adhere to my demands hence or I shall administer punishments as I see fit. Do you understand, Anakin?” Although on surface Count’s voice appeared threatening, Anakin knew how the Count truly sounded when furious. The barbed jaggedness was absent and in its place instead was a melting heat that made Anakin’s toes curl.
“Y-yes, C-Count.” Anakin stuttered in a broken voice.
“Good.” The Count said and the hand in his hair withdrew. The rustling sound of clothes suddenly punctuated the air which was thick with Anakin's subdued breathing and he felt his stomach tighten with anticipation.
At last, a hand touched his lower back, causing him to flinch and his entire body to go tense.
Anakin’s gut knotted when that hand slid under his shirt and he jolted when a hot mouth pressed against his lower back.
“My patience is running thin, Anakin.” Count’s breath rasped against his sensitive skin, “I fear I would not be able to adequately prepare you.” Anakin could feel his muscles tense and ripple under his skin, where Count’s hand touched, “It is in times such as these I wish that you had a cunt.”
Anakin felt a hot flush creep up his cheeks at those words even as his cock twitched.
“You would be loose and dripping wet by now.” Anakin squeezed his eyes shut when Count pressed a kiss against his ass cheek. “and all I’ll have to do is fuck into you.” A bite followed a kiss and then at last the rough, wet swipe of the tongue worked a whimper out of him. “Pity that isn’t the case. So, I guess your spit and my fingers will have to suffice for now.”
Anakin eyes widened at those words and then Count’s fingers pressed against his mouth, which unbeknownst to him had parted to let out a gasp. Rough and insistent fingers then slipped inside, gathering his spit.
"Ensure they are thoroughly coated, my dear, for this is the sole preparation you shall receive."
Anakin’s eyes stung when Count pressed what were three fingers into his mouth. His jaw ached and his tongue grazed against the intruding fingers. Anakin felt his cheeks burn when he swallowed and his saliva pooled in his mouth. His squeezed his eyes shut when Count suddenly thrusted his fingers deeper, making him gag.
“God, I can’t wait to fuck your sweet mouth one day.”
A strangled and muted whimper escaped from him at those words as arousal in thrashing waves rose in him, drowning him. He groaned when the fingers started thrusting in and out of his mouth, in imitation of what was to come.
When they finally stilled, Anakin had spit drooling from the corners of his mouth.
“Lick them.” Count commanded darkly and Anakin did just that, lapping at them hungrily. He then removed his fingers from Anakin’s mouth and placed them against the cleft of his ass.
Anakin’s ragged breathing filled the air and he placed his head on the piano’s lid again. Spit pooled on the polished surface near his mouth, just as tears streaked down his face.
“You look thoroughly debauched now, Baron. I wonder what you shall look like once I’m truly done with you.”
Count then spread him open and lightly placed his wet fingers, which were coated with Anakin’s spit against his opening. Slowly he rubbed the sensitive, shriveled up skin there and then at last, slid one of his fingers inside.
Anakin’s body tensed from the slight burn at the intrusion. His pulse roared in his ears, a loud, insistent drum that reverberated throughout his body. The finger then started to move in and out of him in shallow thrusts and Anakin found himself growing accustomed to the addicting sensation. His arousal which had dulled a little, started to ignite again when suddenly, a hand wrapped around his cock which was still very much hard, turning his burning arousal into a roaring flame and a groan made it past his lips.
The Count then started stroking his throbbing dick as he fingered him. His hand would stroke firmly while he thumbed at the dripping slit, gathering the precum and easing the slide. By the time the Count had three of his fingers thrusting in him, Anakin had become a moaning and weeping mess.
“I am no longer able to endure it, dear.” Count said in between harsh breaths. His voice tinged with his eagerness sounded hurried and had a slightly elevated pitch. And then he finally slipped his fingers outside. “I must have you at once.”
The sudden, sharp sound of spitting jolted Anakin and he turned his head slightly to see Count’s spit dribbling onto his hand. His heartbeat drowned out every other sound as he saw Count lower it to his dick. Slowly, Count stroked himself as he kept their eyes locked and then a few grueling breaths later, Anakin felt the damp tip of Count’s cock dragging against his cleft. The Count then spread his cheek apart and rubbed the tip against the sensitive rim of his hole, making Anakin’s spine arch. Finally, as Anakin pressed his sweat dotted forehead flat against Piano’s lid, he felt it probe and push inside.
A choked whine ripped out of his bruised throat when the cock pushed past the first ring of muscles. Unlike the pleasant slide of the first time they had done it, Anakin felt the intrusion to be quite painful because of the lack of lubrication. It was clear that spit wasn’t a good enough lubricant. Another painful groan made it past his clenched teeth when Count pushed deeper.
“Darling.” Count Obi-wan’s own voice sounded pained and raw as he continued, “You must relax, or the experience will be quite unpleasant.”
Count stilled inside him and took hold of Anakin’s softening pick. He gave it a few firm strokes as he pressed his chest against Anakin’s back. He nipped and licked at the sensitive skin of Anakin’s nape while he massaged the sensitive head of Anakin’s dick.
“Good. Yes. Relax for me, dear. Let me have you. Let me make you mine.” Count whispered in a sultry tone as he repeatedly bit and lick at whatever naked skin of Anakin he could reach while he continued to move his hand on Anakin’s prick.
Finally, his body started to loosen up from the arousal that thrummed through him and Count pressed through the second ring of muscles.
Anakin shuddered at the intense sensation and panted, his open mouth sucking in harsh inhales. Slowly, as Count sunk into him, spreading him open Anakin felt a heady sensation surround him and press upon him. Along with it though, another feeling entwined his heart, slowly forging its broken pieces into one.
Anakin’s eyes teared up as he experienced wholeness for the first time in a long while. He felt complete when earlier, after parting from the Count he had only ever felt bereft.
It was too overwhelming, this sensation that he never thought he would ever feel again and so his shoulders started shaking with his mewling.
Count must’ve noticed his crumpled state, for he stilled inside Anakin again as he caressed him softly and rubbed soothing circles on his back.
“What troubles you, my dear? Should I stop?” Count Obi-wan said softly.
Anakin shook his head lightly and swallowed around his constricting throat. After calming down a little he finally spoke in a croaking voice, “N-No, p-please, don’t stop. I-Its j-just I never thought w-we would ever… again..”
"I understand.” Count then softly encircled his arm around Anakin’s torso, lifting him away from the lid as he continued, “Please forgive me, Baron. I believe I acted hastily. It would have been wise to wait a bit longer before embracing you."
“No! No! Please! Count. You misunderstand.” Anakin dug his fingers into the Count’s arm that was wound around him as he spoke in an urgent tone, “ Please, just have me. If you don’t take me now, Count. I will not be able to endure it! Please! Make me yours! Please.” Then he turned his head seeking Count’s lips, who to his relief answered in kind and slotted their lips together.
Slowly as Count deepened their kiss, he slid his other hand through Anakin’s open shirt and thumbed at his nipple. Count swallowed his moan and pinched the sensitive bud. He then loosened his hold around Anakin’s waist and lowered his hand to squeeze Anakin’s prick.
Soon enough, Anakin was writhing and arching in his hold and he disconnected their lips.
“Then I shall do as you demand of me, my dear.” He said darkly and suddenly Anakin felt a rush of breath knocked out of him as his chest was pressed up against the piano’s lid again.
Count then fully pushed into him, probing him to the brim and eliciting a loud moan from Anakin. His hips stuttered forward again, as if trying to sink in ever deeper within Anakin, who was whimpering.
And then Count started to move, thrusting in and out of him in a precise, intoxicating rhythm. The friction from the moment still burned, but it was not as painful as before. In fact, Anakin found that the pain actually heightened his arousal.
It was maddening, the way Count pulled back his hips only to drive them forward sharply, fucking into Anakin repeatedly with a savage intensity. The wrecked noise that came out of him at a sudden sharp thrust from the man, felt foreign to his ears. The little grunts, mewls and whines that spilled from his mouth one after another made his body flush all over.
Count’s fingers dug roughly around his hips then, tugging them higher to force himself deeper. His thrusts became even harder, driving his cock in Anakin deeper, whose insides were tightening and clenched down on the man’s cock. When suddenly Count’s prick grazed against something inside him that caused his entire body to spasm and his vision to go white for a moment, a guttural moan fell from his lips. He then arched his spine to allow the Count to slide deeper and assault that very place repeatedly.
The Count obliged with a throaty growl and started fucking into him greedily. The hot sensation that built up in him, blurred the edges of his vision and then the next moment, his vision darkened, and his entire body seized up as he came, untouched with Count’s name on his lips.
Count, however, was still in the throes of it and his hips started snapping with a brutal force as he edged towards his own completion. His fucking acquired a savage and purely animalistic quality as it became rough and vicious, losing all the gentleness and control.
A hand suddenly coiled in Anakin’s curls, pressing his head deeper into the lid and Anakin’s spent cock cock gave an unexpected twitch. He felt Count crowd around him and curve over him, pressing their bodies closer and then after a series of sharp and short thrusts later, the other man was cumming inside him with a loud, guttural groan.
A few heartbeats later, where Count had collapsed over him as he had heaved hot breaths against Anakin’s wet cheek, he finally withdrew and righted himself with a grunt.
“I must confess Baron, I’m anything but sated.” The Count panted as he petted Anakin’s hair, who was still shivering and recovering from the aftershocks of the rather feral fucking.
Likewise, Count.
He wanted to say but found he was too tired to even move his lips.
Anakin slowly stirred awake as the tendrils of sleep relinquished their hold on him. A faint awareness trickled into his consciousness, and his eyes fluttered open. The first thing he noticed as his senses sharpened was the unmistakable and familiar scent of cigar smoke. His eyes, still heavy with sleep, then took in the surroundings and finally landed on a figure seated next to the window, through which filtered the pale light of the moon.
His heart, whose beats had been so quiet that Anakin hadn’t even noticed, at once started to pound in his chest, cutting through his drowsiness like a sharp blade. Anakin licked his dry lips as he beheld the handsome Count bathed in the silver glow of the moon. The old man was sitting on a couch as he smoked and gazed outside. With each inhale, the tip of his cigar glowed like a distant star, casting a faint ember against the velvety blackness.
He looked so beautiful, akin to a wispy dream, which felt real and tactile. However, as soon as one would so much as try to touch it, reach it, it would vanish, much like the plume of smoke that the Count exhaled.
Slowly, Anakin sat up in bed, his gaze fixed on the pensive man who didn’t even notice him. He then moved the bedsheet aside, and the rustling sound, akin to a crack of thunder, broke the deep spell of silence under the veil of the night.
The Count finally became aware of his presence and looked at him. His fingers removed the cigar from his mouth, and wisps of smoke curled around him, entwining with the cool night air and creating a bewitching picture. God, he looked so ethereal, and Anakin felt his heart being snagged by the other man’s seductive allure.
Unable to help himself, he got up from the bed and the hair on his naked skin stood on end, not only from the kiss of the cold night air but also from the heated gaze of the Count on him.
Anakin felt lust surge like a tempest within him; he felt it engulf him and flood every part of his being. If he were not overwhelmed by his roaring arousal so, which dominated his mind and throttled his rationality, he would have not done what he did next.
Slowly and cautiously, whilst he kept their gazes locked, Anakin lowered himself to the ground and got on his hands and knees. Even in the meagre light, Anakin saw Count’s eyes widen slightly with surprise, however swiftly his brows lowered and his lips parted to puff on his cigar again. A sick determination gripped Anakin then and he crawled on his fours, towards the seated man. In response, Count simply tilted his chin up and languidly stretched his legs open as he beheld Anakin.
Count’s face was shrouded in a dark expression, his features were etched with a blend of intensity and intrigue. His eyes glinted with a fiery spark, a reflection of his surging lust. As he sat there, languidly, puffing on a cigar, a palpable energy emanated from him, crackling like lightening in the air. There was a dangerous allure to his demeanor, a magnetism that instantly captivated Anakin and drew him in. It was as if the entire room shrank in his presence and the atmosphere became heavy under the weight of his gaze.
Once Anakin reached the other man, his breathing became ragged and thready. His chest was heaving, and he bit his lower lip. Anakin felt an overwhelming sense of awe as the palpable force of the other’s presence settled over him, pushing the wind out of his lung. The air crackled between them with electricity and he found himself drawn to other man, like a moth to the flame.
What he was about to do was remarkably bold, and he would’ve never done it had he not been robbed of his senses by the dominating force of his arousal.
However, helpless as he was, as arousal set fire to his entrails. He did it.
Anakin, slowly lowered his head towards the ground and his heart thudded in his chest when Count’s naked feet came into view. With the pulse echoing loud in his ears, he parted his lips and inhaled sharply. He then steadily lowered his mouth towards Count’s foot and closed his eyes. He felt his chest tighten when at last his lips pressed against the top of the other man’s foot, kissing it.
This was it.
This single voluntary act of complete surrender on Anakin’s part conveyed everything he wished to express to the other man. It spoke of Anakin’s devotion, his love, and his desire to give himself fully to the other man.
Suddenly, fingers curled around his hair, tightening their hold and wrenching his head up. A startled gasp fell from his parted mouth, and his eyes locked with Count’s dark eyes, which glistened with his unbridled arousal.
“You’re playing a dangerous game, Baron.” Count said in a dark voice. It’s cadence slow and deliberate had a hint of danger to it and Anakin felt himself drawn to its velvety smooth yet commanding timbre.
“Anything.” Anakin whispered in a quivering voice as his eyes flickered across Count’s face. “I will do anything for you, Count.”
“Don’t promise what you can’t deliver, Baron.” Count replied in a deep and raspy voice and Anakin shuddered, for he knew those words. Count had uttered them to him that stormy night, when Anakin had been on his knees begging for his mother’s life.
“Anything.” Anakin spoke again in a broken whisper. He then buried his face against Count’s thigh, rubbing his face against the scratchy cotton of his trousers, which bless him was the only thing he wore as he sat on the couch.
A stifling silence later, which lasted a moment too long for Anakin, Count spoke again "Very well. Should you desire it, Baron, we shall partake in your game. However, understand there are conditions you must observe. Foremost among them is your obedience to my every command, with consequences for any defiance. Do you grasp this, Baron?"
Anakin nodded his head and exhaled his wet breath on the surface of Count’s trousers.
“From this moment forth, you will address me as your master. Rise and retrieve the box from the drawer beside the bed and don on the pieces of clothing contained within."
Anakin got up on his feet and felt them too weak to bear his weight. However, he followed Count’s command and retrieved the box. When he opened it though, a shaky exhale expelled from him. He placed the box on the bed and took out a pair of black stockings along with black, lacy drawers.
With shaky hands as he kept his back to the daunting man, he first pulled on the lacy drawers, followed by the black stockings.
"Good," Count's dark voice rumbled like thunder, slicing through the thick silence that had descended upon them, “Now go and stand facing the opposite wall and place your hands against it.”
Anakin’s soft footsteps then echoed in the night and a hot prickling sensation cascaded down his spine. Anakin followed the other man’s instruction with his gut twisting in anticipation and with bated breath awaited Count’s next move.
It was as if Count was torturing him, for suddenly a cloying silence thickened the air in the room and no sound, not even a soft rustle or a soft clink penetrated it. It was so heavy that Anakin felt unnerving flutters in his gut.
The sound of bare feet padding softly against the carpet suddenly filled the air. Initially faint, the footsteps grew louder and more precise. Anakin swallowed, his throat parched. He licked his lips and closed his eyes as the footsteps finally ceased, sensing a looming presence behind him.
“You look exquisite, Baron,” Count said with a seductive roll of his tongue.
Anakin quivered when he felt a snag on his drawers, their rough texture biting into his skin as fingers pulled them tightly.
“ You should dress like this all the time. You look so pretty in them.” Large hands then touched his thighs and Anakin shuddered. They thumbed the top of his stockings and then slid gingerly on them. “You’re prettier than all the girls in St. Petersburg. I would venture to say, more beautiful than any girl in the entirety of Russia."
Anakin felt a deep flush creep up his neck at Count’s words.
“You should not have joined the army, Baron. It does not befit you in the least. What you ought to have been is a lady, with your only duty being to dress in these lovely garments and appear beautiful." Anakin trembled when Count’s breath brushed against the burning skin of his neck. He arched his neck back, seeking the other man’s warmth, who torturously still prevented their bodies from touching. “Yes, indeed. As a lady, your primary duty would’ve been to be bred by me, day and night and bear my children.” Suddenly an arm encircled his middle and then he was pressed up against a hard, strong body. Harsh, quick breaths spilled from his lips as Count nosed his arched neck. "Alas, it is regrettable that you cannot bear my children, for if you were a woman, your belly would already be swollen with one." The Count said hotly against the sensitive skin of his neck which he swiftly kissed and nipped at, causing a startled gasp to spill out of Anakin’s parted lips.
“Nevertheless you belong solely to me and me alone, regardless of your gender. Am I not correct, Anakin?”
Anakin trembled at the possessive inflection of the words and felt his throat constrict. He parted his lips but only gasps and whines escaped as Count traced his open, wet mouth against Anakin’s neck and pressed his hand on his quivering stomach, caressing it.
"Anakin, my dear, you must respond, or else there will be consequences."
A soft whimper instead came out of Anakin when he felt Count’s clothed hardness grind against the cleft of his ass.
“Anakin” Count uttered his name as a warning, however, that only heightened the flame of his arousal instead of dousing it.
Anakin, whose eyes were closed and mouth open, was so lost in the grinding motion as Count rutted against him that he jolted, when suddenly he was manhandled and spun around. His wide, unblinking eyes met dark, firey eyes of the Count and his heart leapt in his chest.
“Am I not correct, Anakin?” Count’s voice dropped lower an octave and acquired a dangerous edge.
“Y-yes, C-Count.” Anakin’s heart was racing like a wild stallion, pounding with so much intensity as if it were trying to escape its bony cage.
"Yes, what?" Count asked again, and this time his voice acquired a predatory quality that made the hair on the back of Anakin’s neck stand on end. Anakin didn’t know how Count wanted him to answer, so with trepidation, he mutely darted his eyes across the other man’s face.
Suddenly, an alluring darkness clouded Count’s features. His jaw tensed, and his lips thinned in clear disapproval. Then, Anakin felt a stinging slap land on his cheek and snap his face to the side.
The slap echoed sharply through the room, a sharp crack that reverberated in the silence and shook Anakin to the bone. Shock sucked the air out of Anakin’s lungs. His mouth hung open, tears pricked at his eyes from the sharp sting. A lone tear then spilled from his eye and trailed down his cheek.
However, something very unsettling also dug its nails upon the impact of the slap. Anakin had thought he would feel shock paralyze him, followed by anger seizing hold of him but it was sharp nails of arousal that pierced him instead, making his blood pool downward.
What kind of a sick, twisted person was he?
A large hand then cradled his jaw and turned his head. His wet, teary eyes locked with dark one’s of Count whose glistened with arousal as well. Slowly, Count pressed his lips against his stinging cheek, causing Anakin’s cock to twitch in the tight confines of his lacy drawers.
“Master” Count rasped against his tear streaked cheek, “Yes, Master. Did I not instruct you to address me as such?"
“Y-Yes, M-Master” Anakin croaked through a hard knot constricting his throat, and Count hummed his approval against his cheek.
"Excellent. Well done," Count praised him then, causing heat to coil in Anakin’s guts.
“Now, turn around and place your hands against the wall. Yes. Like that. Excellent. Make sure you stay still as I open you up for me, not that you’ll need much preparation since you’re already loose from before.”
Count’s crass words caused his breathing to quicken and become ragged. He squeezed his eyes shut as he pressed his sweaty forehead against the wall, panting.
It was too much.
God. Anakin was already on edge, any more of that teasing and he would spill in the tight, black drawers.
A startled gasp spilled from his lips when he felt a finger prod at his opening through the drawers. He then felt them being moved aside and bit his lip, when a finger pressed between the furrow of his backside. Anakin flinched when the blunt nail dug slightly at the wrinkled skin of his rim and hissed as the finger finally slipped inside. Count rubbed his inner walls with his finger and then started moving the digit in and out in shallow thrusts. Soon one finger became two and two became three and finally, Anakin had three fingers sliding in and out of him.
He writhed and moaned at the sweet burn that erupted with the thrusting and couldn’t help but arching his spine, to encourage them to slide deeper within him.
Count grunted in response and started thrusting them at a quicker pace. When his blunt fingers at last touched that thing that caused Anakin’s vision to darken at the edges, a soft plea made it past his lips. His hips, off their own accord started thrusting back at a clumsy rhythm to pull Count’s fingers deeper within him, to enable them to repeatedly attack that place and cause his arousal to climb higher. At last his orgasm hit him with a raw intensity that knocked the air out of his lungs and his knees buckled as he sagged against the wall, held up only by the arms of the Count encircling him.
“By the gods, Anakin, you drive me to madness.” Count whispered hotly, his hot breath scorching the skin of Anakin’s shoulder.
Anakin sensed the lingering effects of his orgasm gradually recede, his senses sharpening once more and found that Count was nipping and lapping at the skin of his shoulder. His chest rose and fell with his pants as he leaned his entire body back against the other man.
"By the heavens, I am at my utmost limit; I must have you, Baron," Count said in a low, growling voice that sent shivers down Anakin’s spine. He then turned Anakin around, pressing him against the wall as he loosely slotted their lips together and breathed into Anakin’s mouth through an open-mouthed kiss.
"Wait here," he ordered in a stern voice as their hot, wet breaths intermingled, then left Anakin to retrieve something from another drawer.
Anakin continued to behold the other man in the pale light of the moon. His eyes roved over the other's naked back, seeing muscles tense and ripple beneath the skin with every slight movement, and Anakin felt his desire stirring again.
The Count, having found what he wanted, turned around to face him again, and Anakin’s eyes instantly fell on the tie that the other man was entwining around his hand. His eyes, which had widened in shock, darted at once to the Count’s face.
A sick thrill passed through him when he saw the Count’s face contorted with a heated expression, his eyes narrowed into intense slits.
Anakin’s heart thudded in his chest as he watched the Count walking towards him in slow, measured steps, now slowly unwinding the tie.
All of a sudden Count stilled a few feet away from him and ordered in a gravelly voice, “ Come here.”
Anakin swallowed nervously, then cautiously approached the man, feeling as though he were stepping into a lion's den.
“Come here and kiss me,” the Count demanded in a husky voice, sending a shiver of anticipation through Anakin. Anakin followed the Count’s instructions, drawing his face ever so slowly closer to the other man and lightly ghosting a kiss on the Count’s lips.
“You are intent on provoking me, aren’t you?” the Count said in a voice lilted with apparent frustration, then reeled Anakin in to plant a hot, searing kiss.
Anakin moaned into the kiss and then dared to place his hands on the man’s strong, naked chest. He traced the man’s strong arms with his hands, feeling the strong muscles bulge under the skin. However, Count quickly caught his greedy hands and disconnected their lips, “turn around and place your hands behind your back.”
Anakin gulped and did just that. Anxiety gripped him and his stomach churned as he fidgeted upon feeling the tie being wound around his hands.
Then he was spun on his feet and Count, with a fist in his hair, at once drew him into a heated kiss.
Count walked them back slowly as he plundered Anakin’s mouth. His tongue entwined with Anakin’s repeatedly and teased the roof of his mouth. His hands travelled all over Anakin’s body, at last settling on Anakin’s ass.
And finally, when Anakin felt the edge of the table hitting his back, Count disconnected their lips.
“Turn around.” Count, short of breath, ordered in an urgent tone and shoved Anakin’s chest against the table. “Spread your legs.”
Anakin shivered at the raspy voice of Count and pressed his open mouth against the polished surface of the table. His heart stumbled over its rhythm when he felt clothed hardness grinding against the cleft of his ass in a tantalizing motion.
“Truly, Anakin you were created for this, created for me.” Count spoke in a hoarse voice and pressed the tip of his cock against Anakin’s already abused opening. “Know this, my dear that I will end your life should you ever betray me going forth; have no doubts about this. While I have been patient and cautious in the past, my tolerance has its limits, especially when it concerns you.”
Anakin felt a wave of dread in the pit of his stomach as he heard Count's threatening words. Yet, he wasn't taken aback. Knowing Count well, he understood that the man wouldn't tolerate betrayal a second time.
Tingles then traveled down his back when Anakin felt Count rub his cock against his hole, slicking it with precum. He then breached him and slid inside with a single, steady motion which elicited a choked sob from Anakin, whose breath was fogging the surface of the table.
Count groaned above him as he further sunk into the clenching, hot insides of Anakin. A squelching sound from the slick slide echoed in the room, making Anakin’s cheeks turn scarlet from embarrassment. It seemed Count had used oil to ease the entry and make the experience more pleasurable for both. And pleasurable it was, feeling Count gradually sink deeper into him and fill him up to the brim.
For a moment Count stilled in him as he panted and then he snapped his hips, causing a moan to spill out from Anakin’s lips. He then ground his hips and started thrusting in him. At first his movements were much more relaxed and drawn out. However soon enough they acquired a sense of urgency and became frenzied.
His thrusts became quick and powerful as his nails dug painfully into the Anakin’s hips.
Each powerful snap of his hips wrenched out a mewl from Anakin’s lips.
“You belong solely to me, Anakin.” Count spoke in a heated, low voice in between his pants as he pressed Anakin’s head against the table. “You’re mine and mine alone.” He then crowded over him, pressing his sweaty chest against Anakin’s quivering back, who was hot and flushed as he arched feverishly against him.
Tears pricked him as Count’s thrusting acquired a vicious rhythm and a whine at last fell from his parted lips when Count’s cock grazed against his prostate, sending shockwaves through his body. Count’s name repeatedly spilled from Anakin’s lips in the form of a broken plea to end this sweet and agonizing torment.
A series of brutal thrusts later, a shrill cry ripped from Anakin’s throat and he spilled in his black drawers. Count then chased his orgasm with a few more minutes of quick, desperate thrusting and painted Anakin’s walls with white rivulets.
Count’s body then sagged over him and his heavy breath scorched his skin.
A few more minutes elapsed, during which their breathing slowed and evened, their clammy skin cooled, and their hearts returned to a steady rhythm. Count then stood up and pulled his softening cock out of Anakin, who let out a soft whimper and untied the tie knotted around his wrists.
“Come on, let’s go to bed, Baron.” He muttered softly as he massaged Anakin’s wrists.
Anakin shuddered as he picked up himself off the table, however the moment he removed his hands from the table, his knees buckled under him. Count Obi-wan instantly grabbed him and supported him.
“Can you walk?” He asked, to which Anakin simply shook his head and then Count looped his one arm across his back and with his other arm under Anakin’s knees hefted him up, lifting him in his arms in one swift motion.
“You’ve lost a lot of weight, Baron.” He noted and then carried Anakin towards the bed and lowered him to the sheets. Anakin was so sleepy that he barely registered Count cleaning him with a wash cloth. The last thing he remembered before slumber took him to the land of dreams, was Count Obi-wan’s arm encircling his waist and drawing him back against his chest.
Anakin woke to the warm caress of sunrays on his cool skin. The bright light softened the darkness behind his closed lids, and his brows knitted in gentle confusion. His eyes crinkled at the corners and slowly fluttered open. The first thing he saw was the sight of white, soft curtains gently moving with the gusts of wind, allowing light to filter through the opened windows. And, then he felt the weight of a solid arm around his waist and the warmth of a strong body pressing against his back. Anakin’s pulse quickened and his cheeks flushed when memories of yesterday and last night flooded his mind.
It had all felt like those sweet, torturous dreams Anakin had had after their bitter separation. He had often dreamed, even during the day of kissing the Count, touching him and holding him. And yesterday when Count had pressed their lips together, Anakin had wondered if it were simply a conjuring of his mind. To his utter delight, it had been all too real. Yet, a lingering sense of apprehension prickled at him—what if it wasn’t?
To reassure himself, Anakin shifted in the bed and gazed at the other occupant, who was fast asleep. The Count's serene face tugged at his heart, and a smile spread across his own face. He looked beautiful in this moment, with his eyes closed, relaxed expression, slightly parted lips, and his auburn locks tousled haphazardly across his forehead. Anakin suddenly felt an urge to taste those plush, petal-soft lips, but he suppressed it and continued to gaze at the man instead.
As he continued to gaze at the man though, a strange sadness loomed over him. The truth was that although Count had apologized to him and expressed an interest in Anakin, he hadn’t once declared his love for him. His possessive words had stirred hope in Anakin’s heart and his kisses as well as his embrace had felt like a lover’s, yet Anakin couldn't shake the fear that this might only be another fleeting dalliance for the Count.
It saddened Anakin deeply, for whom Count was the other half of his whole, which was why he knew that even if Count would never return his feelings, he would continue to worship and love the man.
Uncertainty clouded the horizon. He didn’t know how long this dalliance would last, their affair could last mere weeks or stretch into years, only for Count to eventually fall for another. Despite the risk of heartbreak though Anakin would still partake in this affair. Since for him to be able to embrace Count, share his warmth even for a short time, would satiate him for the rest of his life, for he knew he would die with Count’s name on his last breath.
Anakin's shoulders twitched as a series of knocks jolted him out of his thoughts. Initially, he hoped they would stop on their own, but as they persisted, he cautiously rose from the bed so as not to disturb the other occupant.
Retrieving a loose shirt and trousers from the closet, he then quickly dressed before approaching the door.
Opening it, he was taken aback to find young Ivan standing on the other side. "Ivan?" he exclaimed, surprised by the unexpected visitor.
"Baron Skywalker?" Ivan responded, his eyes wide with astonishment. "What are you doing here?"
Anakin blushed slightly and swallowed nervously. "Oh, I came to speak with your father. We had some matters to discuss,” he replied at last.
Ivan looked puzzled. It had been so long since he had seen the child's face. When Padme had introduced them, Anakin had expected their first meeting to be disastrous. To his surprise, Ivan had shown respect, albeit with a hint of coldness. Over time, Ivan had warmed up to Anakin, however he could still recall the boy missing his father terribly, and seeing the boy so morose back then, had further twisted the knife of guilt inside of Anakin for breaking his family apart. And now that the child had also lost his mother, Anakin could only imagine the sorrow Ivan must be experiencing.
"Um, I wanted to inform Father that I wish to leave St. Petersburg and return home. Is he inside?" Ivan stuttered, his nervousness evident in his disjointed words.
Anakin swallowed. He couldn't reveal to the child that his father was inside, which would only invite more questions he wasn't prepared to answer. So, he chose to tell a white lie instead.
"Well, you see, your father asked me to stay in his room for the night. He ended up sleeping in the study instead. And as for where your father is, I don’t know. Albert mentioned he had an urgent matter to attend to and left early this morning. I'm sure he'll be back soon," Anakin explained, feeling a pang of guilt for deceiving the child, but seeing no other option. It was either this harmless falsehood or face uncomfortable inquiries.
"I understand," Ivan replied thoughtfully. He nodded his head slightly and spoke again in a formal tone which left a bitter taste in Anakin's mouth. "It was a pleasure to meet you, sir."
As Ivan turned to leave, Anakin abruptly closed the door behind him and asked him to wait.
"Hey, it's been a while, Ivan. Why don't we go outside and play together for a bit?" Anakin suggested warmly.
Ivan appeared unsure, his eyes betraying a weariness and steely resolve that seemed beyond his tender years. It was a sight that deeply affected Anakin, tugging at his heartstrings.
"Come on, it'll be fun," Anakin encouraged gently.
Hesitation flickered across Ivan's face, but eventually he nodded.
"Excellent!" Anakin exclaimed cheerfully, clapping his hands. He then asked Ivan to lead the way to the garden.
Anakin hoped this effort to bring a moment of joy to the child would succeed, and he could finally see a glimmer of warmth replace the hardness in Ivan's eyes.
Obi-wan
Obi-wan recognized this place. After all he had had this recurrent nightmare torment him for years. However, despite so much being the same, from trepidation that pressed upon him from all sides stifling him, the ink black sky with only moon being its sole adornment, the platform on which he stood as the horn of the train thunderously pierced the air, announcing its arrival. There were a few things very distinct. First being that the wraith of Padme was nowhere in sight and second being that now, it was he that stood at the edge of platform, watching the yellow light of the fast approaching train filter through the thick clouds of wafting mist.
There was a symphony to it, to the rhythmic chugging, whistle blowing, mechanical clanking and of course, ear splitting, haunting wail of its horn which rumbled in the air. He had always thought it to be a loud cacophonous roar but now, as he stood at the very edge where once Padme had stood, it didn’t make his heart quake. In fact, it felt familiar. And that was a ghastly thought.
His eyes searched for her, darting around in darkness but she was nowhere to be seen. It was only him, the pale moon and the fast approaching train.
Perhaps, it was Padme’s doing.
Perhaps, she wanted to him to see him what she saw, hear what she heard, feel what she felt before she leapt to her death.
Perhaps, this was her tormenting him for the last time, where she would propel him towards his death.
He had read about these dreams; which one never woke up from.
It was a strange mystery which no one had yet deciphered.
Obi-wan closed his eyes when the horn sliced through the air again.
He could feel the ground on which he stood shake.
It was only a few feet away now and the sounds which had formed a cacophonous mechanical symphony earlier, transformed into a thunderous, deafening roar. The piercing blast of the horn caused his bones to rattle and the rush of wind intensified, whipping around in intensity.
Obi-wan then felt his feet move of their own volition and balled his hands into fists at his sides. He kept his eyes shut as every muscle of his body bulged and tensed. He tried to make his feet stop but they didn’t. It was clear that his hypothesis was correct.
This was Padme and she wanted him dead.
His feet came to a halt and he knew he had reached the edge. Slowly then, as his heart pounded in his chest, he opened his eyes.
And then ever so slowly, he turned his face to behold the train, who loomed large and appeared monstrous with the metal grille resembling a jagged gaping mouth and headlight glaring like a fierce, unblinking eye.
Obi-wan felt his body slacken completely. Resignation tightened its hold on his heart, and hopelessness caused the grip he had on life to slip away.
At last, he resigned himself to his fate and closed his eyes.
However, just when his one foot had come off the ground to step towards the abyss, a child’s laughter penetrated through the thunderous roar of the train.
At once, he felt his entire body freeze and his eyes snapped open to behold that the entire world had frozen with him. His wide eyes took in the monstrous visage of the frozen train that stood only a foot away from him and then darted around to see that the world had come to a terrifying halt. A loud silence and a terrible stillness had fallen all over, however, again a delicate childish laughter floated in the air like a faint, elusive whisper.
His eyes widened even further when he recognized the laugh at last.
It was Ivan’s.
Ivan’s.
Suddenly, Obi-wan felt an invisible force thrust him backward with startling power and he fell to the ground. Terror, dark and menacing terror sunk its talons into Obi-wan, who utterly disoriented, and quivering all over, stood up.
Again Ivan’s laughter echoed hauntingly, a spectral sound that seemed to reverberate through the night. However, just as suddenly the laughter faded, and complete darkness enveloped him like a suffocating cloak.
A loud gasp spilled from Obi-wan’s lips as he awoke with a start. His heart pounded fiercely in his chest as his eyes snapped open and he stared at the ceiling in a catatonic stupor. His entire body was drenched in sweat with beads of it dotting his forehead and trickling down his hot skin. His chest was heaving as he sucked in harsh, quick breaths. He could still feel the dream’s grip on his consciousness as vivid images lingered in his mind. He could still see the remnants of darkness that had surrounded him at the edge of his vision, could still feel the chilling fear battering at his heart and could still feel the press of that invisible hand that had shoved him to the ground.
However, what was especially chilling was that he could still hear Ivan’s laughter even now.
In fact, the sound of the childish giggle was even more clear and distinct than in the dream.
And then it dawned on him, as his pulse became steady, his vision clearer and breathing even that he was back into the comforting reality.
Slowly, as the vivid horrors of the nightmare dissipated into the recesses of his mind and his senses sharpened, Obi-wan sat up on the bed. His gaze shifted to the windows, through which gentle sunlight filtered in, accompanied by the joyful laughter of his son echoing softly into the room.
Ivan's laughter—oh, how long it had been since he had last heard that sound.
Could it be that his mind was still playing tricks on him and he was trapped in yet another dream?
Obi-wan touched his hand to his chest then and sighed upon hearing the steady drum of his heart through his flesh. If this indeed was a dream, then it surely was a terrifying one, since it mirrored life so aptly.
After taking a long inhale he got up from the bed, for he was still a little weary, after all his nightmare had felt very real too.
He could still very much be trapped in a nightmare.
Gradually, he approached the windows, preparing himself for whatever might come.
His stomach knotted with trepidation and he at last reached the windows.
Obi-wan’s mouth parted at once at what he saw.
His eyes widened in astonishment and awe.
Ivan was laughing.
He was indeed laughing.
His face, once a mask of aloofness after Padme's death, now contorted with playful joy. His eyes, which had long been dulled and devoid of their former shine, now glistened with jubilance. Warmth and happiness emanated from him as he dashed around the garden, being chased by...
Chased by.. Anakin.
So it was Anakin who had finally succeeded in coaxing more than just a smile from Ivan.
It was he, who had managed to make Obi-wan’s son laugh.
Laugh.
Obi-wan expelled a shaky breath as he felt waves of an inexplicable emotion drown him. He couldn’t name that which caused his chest to tighten, that which caused tears to prick his eyes, that which caused his being to tremble. However, one thing was true, it wasn’t an unpleasant emotion. It interwove bright ropes of happiness with hope, a dangerous thing and spun it around Obi-wan, stifling him in its grip, and making it hard for him to breathe.
It wrenched out tears from his eyes which had along ago dried and it made his entire body tremble.
“Count?”
Obi-wan felt tears trickle down his face and didn’t move even after registering Albert’s voice.
The truth was he didn’t know if he could turn around without falling.
“Count?” Albert’s voice softened and yet Obi-wan didn’t face him, acknowledge him.
He just kept looking at his son and the man, who had managed to make his child laugh, once again.
Albert was walking closer to him, clearly worried and again called out to him, but Obi-wan didn’t face him. He couldn’t.
How could he allow the man to witness him in such a pitiful state?
"Count, is everything alright?" Albert's voice carried a note of concern, and Obi-Wan realized he could no longer evade him.
"E-Everything’s f-fine, Albert," he stammered, inwardly cursing as his voice betrayed him with a pathetic quiver.
Albert remained silent for what felt like a long time before finally speaking up. "Obi-Wan, turn around. Please." He said in a pleading tone.
Obi-Wan closed his eyes at the use of his name. The last time Albert had addressed him by his name was when his mother had died.
God, I must have sounded so pitiful just now, for Albert to call me by my name. He thought.
Obi-wan felt a hand touch his shoulder and his jaw clenched. He then finally turned around, however, made sure to keep his eyes averted and downcast.
A loud gasp filled the air suddenly and then, “Oh! Oh! Obi-wan.” Albert said in a pained voice and then he was pulled into a tight embrace.
It was then a dam broke in him. A pandemonium of emotions, some even ages old crashed through him, making his knees buckle and he fell further into the embrace of the old man, who kept clutching him. It all came to him, the grief of losing his father, then his mother, and then being betrayed by the love of his life, humiliation that he bore because of it, almost losing Ivan and then his wife killing herself, Anakin confessing his love for him, almost dying during war and finally Anakin following in the steps of his dead wife and almost succeeding. Everything.
Everything spiraled within him, a powerful vortex that threatened to tear him apart at the seams, draining every fiber of his being. And in the end, all that remained was this pathetic part of him, weeping in Albert's arms.
“Oh, Obi-wan. Everything will be alright. Everything.” Albert said as he rubbed soothing circles on his back.
And, this time he believed the old man.
Now that he had heard his son laugh again, had seen his eyes sparkle with joy again. Obi-wan believed for the very first time that, indeed, everything will be alright, which was why he didn’t understand his weeping.
He should be happy; he should be rejoicing but here he was crying like a little babe in the arms of his head butler.
However, even if he were crying, the strange thing was that there was not even a tendril of grief.
Was this what true happiness felt like?
Did true happiness mirror grief?
Suddenly a memory lit up the back of his eyes and he was on his mother’s death bed, looking at the sunken face of his mother as she smiled at him.
"Everything will be okay, my son. You shall see. One day, my passing won’t hurt you so deeply, and you will smile again because you will finally understand that I haven't truly left. I will always be watching over you, Obi-Wan. I will always be sending you love and happiness. Always. I will shower you with comfort and soothe your soul. I will be the warmth of the sunrays as they touch your face. I will be the guiding star in the night, always lighting your way. So, don’t worry. Everything will be alright, because love will always surround you, my son."
His mother's final words echoed through the depths of his mind, and a palpable ache gripped his chest.
You're right, mother.
Like Always.
You’re right. Somehow, it will all be okay.
Obi-wan then closed his eyes and burrowed himself further in the embrace of the old man.
Thank you, mother.
Fin.
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