𝑳𝑰𝑻𝑻𝑳𝑬 𝑫𝑶𝑽𝑬 - chapter 3: of things buried and hidden.
SITH!OBI-WAN KENOBI x reader
summary: you wake to unfamiliar surroundings, but entirely familiar feelings
contains: just more angst really, ✨ flashbacks ✨, obi-wan being so incredibly in over his head
note: HELLO!!! thank you so much for all your support on the series, i know i have been terribly inconsistent with updates, but part 3 of the Little Dove series is finally here! some hard hitting revelations and really just a TON of emotions in this one. it's pretty long, but i hope u have fun reading!
TAGLIST IS OPEN!
When you wake, all is red.
It takes you a few moments to truly regain all your senses - It feels as if you’d been drugged with some sort of sleeper, and as you peer down at the tiny pinprick on your right arm, everything comes back to you.
Panic engulfs you, and you thrash around - But the metallic clamps holding you down don’t allow for much movement.
Unfamiliar surroundings. Cold, sharp air. The metallic taste of blood in your mouth. Your throbbing head. The chains, held suspended in the air, wrapped around your wrists and ankles and any movable part of your body.
Kriff, you know where you are. And it’s not good.
A sudden wave of horror, realisation, hits you. Heart racing, eyes clouding with hot, furious tears, you let out an anguished cry, screaming and screaming into nothingness, to nobody. And as you do, an alarm begins to go off.
Soon your wails are mixed with the mechanical blaring coming from above.
Thankfully, it quiets after a while, and so do you. For a moment, you get to enjoy a short respite of clarity. With nothing but your harsh intakes of air and the muted humming of whatever hunk of metal you are on, you hang your head and try to feel the Force.
Then, every particle in the room both stills and buzzes. And the door slides open.
“So. You’re awake.”
You don’t have to look up to know who stands in the doorway. His presence is one that is both familiar and foreign to you, and the energy radiating off of him singes your skin. It burns, in the most heinously delicious of ways. You can’t decide if you hate it or… are reassured by it.
His face is still a sore memory for you. As he approaches, all you can think about is the promises he’d made to you, from a time when his lightsaber still glimmered green.
All those foolishly optimistic lectures about goodness and justice and how the light would always prevail, even in moments of darkest temptation. All those times he swore to you that he’d stay by your side, no matter what.
Everything he’d said, you’d eaten up greedily. But how much of that had he himself truly believed?
“Do you know why you’re here?”
His voice, a tinge lower than how you remember, pulls you out of your dream-like state, and your eyes rake over his figure. Up close like this, poised in the light…
Stars. How you’ve missed him. Or, perhaps, the illusion of him. The facade he put on, the facade you fell so foolishly for.
It feels strange, almost. To think that this is the same man who first taught you how to use a blaster. The same man who bade you goodnight with an affectionate smile and a lingering gaze. The same man who had sworn that he would always protect you.
The same man who had turned his back on you with no remorse.
“Answer me when I speak,” his hand grips your chin in a bruising hold, and you fight back a whimper at the sudden pressure. Every nerve in your body is pulsating with energy, rendering every movement, every brush of his skin on your body to be amplified by infinity.
Eventually, he decides you’ve had enough, his grip around your chin loosening. Then he waits.
“No,” is your quiet, eventual reply. You make it a point to keep your voice low and steady, despite the undercurrent of fear you know is bubbling beneath. “No, I have no kriffing clue why I am here. So perhaps you would be so kind as to enlighten me?”
The anger that ripples off of him is palpable. There’s a flame that ignites in his chest, you feel it, and you know what it’s capable of; For a tense moment, a short inflection of a second, you think he might lash out at you.
You want it. You wish for it. To be relieved of this painful humiliation. That he’d just kill you already.
But then he laughs. The kriffing bastard laughs.
You stare in askance as he chuckles darkly, encircling you. The look in his eyes dark and clouded, and sends a tremor up your spine.
Once upon a time you would have been able to read him like the palm of your hand, know what he felt and what he thought, but now, you can’t even fathom how this is the man you once loved. And it terrifies you.
“You are here because I say so.” He walks out of your line of sight and you twist around, trying to keep your eyes on him, but a tight, invisible grip holds your head firmly in place. All you can depend on now is the sound of his quiet breathing, the beating of his heavy boots against the floor.
“You are here because I allow you.” This time, the invisible weight on your chin is replaced by his hands, his fingers harsh and bruising against your skin. “You are here at my command, and so you shall act by it.”
Disgust. That’s what you feel as you curse, glaring, “Why not just kill me, then? Huh? What’s the point of keeping me here? Why the hell am I worth keeping alive?!”
This only encourages another, terrifying, dark laugh from him. What is so amusing about this? Does he take joy in watching you be chained down, at his complete mercy? Of course, he does, what else can be expected of a psychopathic monster like him?
“My dove, my sweet, sweet dove - You are the one thorn in my side that I just can’t seem to get rid of!” He punctuates this with a laugh, a bright, brilliant laugh so hazily familiar that you nearly fool yourself into thinking that it is your Obi-Wan chuckling behind you. But the shaky glint in his eye as he lowers himself to peer into your face betrays that.
“You are inescapable, do you know that? An irritating pest, constantly revolving around my mind... You… You are the one thing from my blasted past that I just can’t… I cannot bear to leave!”
He laughs, a bleak, lifeless, hollow sound that despite it all, makes you pity him.
And then he looks at you, his eyes empty and so distant, so far from the man you once knew, and he asks, “Is it so hard to believe that I care for you?”
The surge of anger that passes through you at that, white hot and blinding, startles you. Your voice trembles, not with fear or trepidation but with conviction and heartbreak as you say, holding his gaze, “You made your feelings towards me very clear when you left.”
A look of recognition, a darkened look, passes over his face, but it’s gone almost as fast as it appears. Instead, he smiles calmly. “And what, pray tell, are my supposed ‘feelings’?”
After all the suffering and the guilt and the anxiety he has caused you, after all the times you’ve had to look over your shoulder with every move and second-guess every friendship you made, after all the times you cut off people dearest to you just so they could have even the slightest chance at staying safe, at staying away from you - and he dares ask you this?
“You ruined my life,” you seethe, “You fucked me over, left me to rot. Do you have any idea how much I trusted you, how much I cared about you?”
You bark out a laugh. “Well, of course not, because you’re the ‘Great Darth Furore’, and a magnificent Sith Lord like you obviously has no time for such fickle things as love, or trust - isn’t that right?”
“I gave you a chance to follow me,” he murmurs, moving to grip your wrist. His hand is ice cold to the touch, and you involuntarily swallow a shudder, avoiding his gaze. You fear what emotions will ignite should you choose to look the wolf in the eye.
“I gave you a chance to rule by my side, to be my Queen.”
He tilts your head upwards, and now, you’re forced to look him in the eye. The sight you behold is electrifying as it is mortifying — Something dangerous burns in his gaze, and yet, within it there lies a dim glean of something... else.
“Stars, what are you talking about?” You say in disbelief. “You left me with nothing. You didn’t 'offer' me anything, not a chance, not a notice. You simply left.”
His grip is brutal as he squeezes your face, drawing you so close to him you can feel his breath fanning on your neck.
“I wanted you by my side, dove, and you promised me your hand. Don’t you remember?”
If you weren’t so convinced of your own misery, you could have sworn that in his voice there was a tinge of desperation, of pleading. But you know better.
A sigh. He releases you from his grip, and the kink in your jaw is unmistakable. As you wriggle in your binds to try to soothe the ache, your captor, the purveyor of your suffering, walks out of sight once more.
Silence. A moment of nothingness. One minute, and then another. You’re starting to think he somehow phased through the walls, that he’s truly left you alone now, but right as your eyes are slipping close in a defeated attempt at sleep, a chilling breeze brushes your cheek.
“Then let me remind you.”
A balcony. Coruscant. Nighttime. Date: Unknown, but familiar.
The wind is biting on this night. This night. What night is this?
You look to the moon, but where it should be you only find an unnerving darkness in what you presume is the sky.
Something feels off. As if you are a stranger in your own body, an outsider looking in.
Instinctively, your hands roam to knit through the ends of your hair. But instead of feeling your usual hair, messy and unkempt, you find a tightly knotted braid.
Long hair. Strange night. A dress you don’t remember putting on. Champagne glasses, two of them, set out on the balcony before you. Coruscant, sprawling in its glittery grit in front of your eyes.
And Obi-Wan, silent and familiar beside you.
You start, haphazardly swivelling to face the man whose face you wish you could forget. In your clumsy haste, the sleeves of your dress nearly knock the champagne glass over the edge of the window ledge. Luckily for you, or not, an experienced hand deftly reaches out to save it from its plummet.
“Distracted tonight, hmm, little dove?” Obi-Wan hums in quiet amusement, his gaze flicking towards you. A ghost of a smile hazes over his lips. “That makes two of us, I suppose.”
What is this? You swore you buried this night, long ago, locked it away, never to see the light of day again. You swore to yourself to stow it away, to disallow yourself from indulging in your final moments with the Obi-Wan you knew. So how is this scene still so clear? So sharp?
You fumble for words but feel your tongue lax in your mouth. Reticent. Regaling you to merely nodding and tearfully smiling at the ghost of your near-lover.
“I know I haven’t been paying you enough attention as I should have, little one,” he sighs, smiling bitterly. “I am your Master after all, and you are my apprentice, so it is only fitting that we share with each other our... opinions on the Jedi counsel, no?”
You find yourself nodding, against yourself.
He sighs again. Pitifully, painfully.
“I must confess I... Well, you see... Lately, I’ve been...”
The thrumming of your heart picks up, and the pit in your stomach sinks further and further into desolation.
“It’s silly, really, a mere lapse in judgement, no doubt,” Obi-Wan runs a calloused hand through his hair, tearing his eyes away from you to pace around the balcony. “But... I must profess that something within me, or around me, perhaps, has shifted. I feel... I feel myself straying further and further from the Light. It is temptation knocking at my door, and I worry... I worry that I have fallen prey to its grasp.”
Instinctively, as if on its own accord, your hand moves to cup his face, a motion that is strikingly familiar. A heated, angry tear unwittingly slips down your face as you bring your forehead to rest against his.
“I will not let it.”
It is your voice ringing in the darkness now. Barely above a whisper, yet clear as day. Your tongue, unknotted to proclaim words of your undying love.
“You are good as you are kind, Obi-Wan, and I will not let yourself fall into the darkness. I know you. I know your heart, and I know you are too pure for this.”
He inhales sharply. “And if I have already fallen into its depths?”
“Then I will fall with you.”
The tenacity in your voice surprises even you. It surprises him too, for he rears his head back like an animal wounded and gazes at you with the eyes of a doe. Glistening with fear. With hope.
“My dove, I cannot ask you to-”
“Obi-Wan,” you interject, pressing a palm against his chest, looking into his eyes, which have darkened considerably since the last you gazed into them. “You have me at my fullest, at my lowest. I trust you. Completely.”
At that, a serene look of realisation plateaus across his face. He turns away before you can fully see, but you think you catch a glimpse of regret flash in his eyes.
“And you mean this? It is a tumultuous promise, little dove, I do not wish for you to merely act out of pity nor-”
“I mean it.”
The look of relief, unabashed and unbridled, that washes over his face sends your heart shattering into a million pieces all over again. Here is Obi-Wan, your Obi-Wan, so divine and glorious in his kindness and graciousness. And there you are, naive in your devotion and relishing in his harking promises. Laying your heart, your life, down for him.
How could you have not seen the darkness that belied his words of tenderness, the stoking anger that lay within?
“Then forgive me in advance, dove, for I feel as if we are about to face our grandest mission yet.
“I have a feeling our bond is to be tested.”
You gasp, awaking in a start.
The sudden jolt from dream (or was it memory?) has you reeling against the binds that hold you flush to the chair. You flounder for air, suddenly acutely aware of the hot saltwater rolling down your face.
Amidst the haze of your tears, a faceless voice calls out-
“Your memory has been sufficiently jogged, I presume?”
You will the tears leaking down your face to disappear. “That is your absurd idea of a proposal? When I swore myself to you, I gave myself to Obi-Wan. Not Darth Furore.”
“Darth Furore and Obi-Wan - My darling, are they not one in the same?”
At this, your heart stutters.
A sly smile edges onto his face.
“Your dear, dear Obi-Wan - What difference is there between us, hmm? After all,” he tuts, gesturing to his body, swathed in macabre black, “We may differ in name, but we share the same body, the same mind.
“The same heart.”
Your cheeks flame at his words, furious and intrigued all the same. For as much as you hate to admit it, his words do hold some weight of truth.
“You bastard,” you whisper. “I have laid at your feet, all this time, unwittingly, waiting for you to return to me.”
You hang your head, too embarrassed of the shameful sincerity in your voice to look him in the eye. “I waited and begged the stars to return you to me, but all I got was silence.”
All at once, he seizes your shoulders, his eyes burning with a passion so alike that your Obi-Wan once had, emboldened with courage and goodness. While your head does not lift to look at him still, he continues on, speaking at a rapid fire pace.
“And you have me now, my dove, you have me!”
The binds on your wrists are lifted, you realise. In desperation, you try to recover your balance and find someway out of this place, but your gait is unsteady, rendering you limp. You fall.
Back into his arms.
He carries you with such lightness, you realise. Even now, even after all his rampages and pillaging, after all the suffering he has brought upon the galaxy and on you, he still holds you like you are the world.
And a maniacal thought appears in your head.
If Darth Furore and Obi-Wan are really one in the same, if Darth Furore truly is just Obi-Wan shrouded and caught in the trap of the dark side, then is it too far off to say that a sliver of Obi-Wan remains hidden, deep inside?
Would it be so inane to think that you - his dove, the sole remainder of his life in the light - could bring Obi-Wan back to life?
“When you swore yourself to Obi-Wan, little dove-”
You raise your gaze to meet his piercing one, and time seems to slow. Something akin to love rears its ugly head in his eyes.
“-You swore yourself to me.”