Work Text:
It starts as a duty.
Order 66 has put a target on all their heads and if the Empire finds out that Anakin has two children, they’ll stop at nothing to claim them. Padmé Amidala will suffer a fate that doesn’t bear imagining.
So Obi-Wan does his duty, as he’s always done. It’s agreed that the girl will go with Bail Organa and his wife, the boy to his family on Tatooine.
“But what of Padmé?” Bail asks gravely. “She will never be safe if they know she survived.”
It’s not a decision Obi-Wan is happy making without Padmé’s input. She still lies recovering from a traumatic birth, unable to speak for herself. It’s up to him to have a duty of care.
“I will make sure she’s taken care of,” Obi-Wan declares. “Somewhere the empire will never find her.”
It isn’t easy to find a signal that isn’t being watched but somehow he manages. Maz Kanata might be a pirate but she’s always been loyal to the light. He knows that despite everything, she can still be trusted and trust is the most valued commodity in the universe right now. He’s certain this is the right thing to do, the safest plan for everyone. Nothing matters now except survival.
“No.”
“But Padmé-…”
“I said no , Obi-Wan,” she repeats at him firmly.
She’s recovering well physically, gaining strength every day but she’s tired, he knows that. She’s tired of holding herself together, just the same as he is. Sitting up in her bed, clutching the sheets, Padmé shakes her head.
“I am not about to be separated from my children, his children.” Her voice breaks, lip trembling. “Please, I can’t lose any more than I already have.”
“It won’t be forever. You know as well as I do, that they won’t stop. We need to get to safety,” he replies softly, with understanding. “We need to survive this.”
“Where will you be taking me?” She asks quietly.
“Takodana. It’s small, out of the way. Maz Kanata is still a friend to us, she’s going to make sure you’re taken care of.”
She looks up at him suddenly, her brown eyes wide and worried. “What about you?”
“I’ll be watching over you too, don’t worry.”
“That’s not what I mean,” she replies, still distressed. “Who will take care of you?”
For a moment he’s taken aback, astounded she’d even think to ask such a question. He smiles sadly. It’s just like her to think of others even when the weight of the galaxy is on her shoulders.
“I will be fine,” he promises, but Padmé doesn’t look convinced. How can she believe him when he’s telling her they all need to go into hiding? That their survival is based entirely on going to ground? But she agrees because she trusts him implicitly. When it comes to trust, there’s nobody she feels closer to than Obi-Wan, not even Anakin. With her agreement, they are smuggled away by Bail in a small unmarked craft to the green planet within a day.
On arrival, Maz greets them. Padmé takes the name Sabé in honour of the handmaiden who had once valiantly defended her and if anyone asks, she is an orphan living on Takodana to pay off a debt to Maz. A simple story and one she hopes she doesn’t have to tell too often. The hut Maz gives her is modest in size but clean and comfortable. Far enough into the forest that nobody will find her by chance, but still close enough for her to be watched. It’s more than Padmé expects.
As Obi-Wan leaves for his ship, Padmé’s hand snaps out to grab him. “When will you come back?”
“Soon. I’ll come back soo-…”
She throws her arms around his neck before he’s finished, clinging to him tightly. Instinct takes over, returning her hug to hold her close. It’s a comfort he’s missed without realizing, needing the closeness as much as she does. The silent reassurance that he isn’t alone in his grief. He squeezes her to him, feeling her hands fist around his robe.
The first visit takes place months after he brought her to Takodana.
Obi-Wan lives on Tatooine, watching Luke from afar while being updated about Leia on an encrypted link to Bail, the contact only limited to a few minutes. It’s a lonely existence. The twin suns beat down on the land during the day while the frigid cold takes over the night. Generally, it’s easy to blend in without anyone paying attention but he doesn’t want to risk leaving too early.
When he arrives at her door, Padmé’s elated smile is enough to bring him to tears. She launches herself at him, hugging him as tightly as she had the day he’d left her here. She smells like the forest blossoms, her body a warm comfort that he’d almost forgotten.
“How have you been?” She asks, leading him inside. The hut is well kept, decorated with plants and hand woven tapestries. Clearly, Padmé has been trying to keep busy.
“I’ve been fine.” He’s lying.
“Obi-Wan, you don’t need to put on a brave face.” Her words are paired with a knowing smile that he returns because of course she knows. In his darkest moments, his grief has been so acute he thought he might never recover. He dreams of Satine, Anakin and Qui-Gon. The countless loves he’s lost without a soul to hold his hand and tell him things will be better. Padmé knows because she feels the same.
“It’s been…a challenge,” he admits. “I keep thinking I should have seen signs, done more.”
“What else could you have done?” She asks, sitting close next to him. “Palpatine had a stronger hold on him than either of us could have imagined. You did everything you could.”
He swallows back the lump in his throat. When she’d asked what happened, Obi-Wan had spared her the details, not wanting to add anything more to her sorrow, but it lives with him. The smell of burning flesh is still imprinted in his memories.
You were my brother, Anakin…
I hate you!
“Nevertheless,” he dismisses, rapidly changing the subject. “Luke and Leia are both doing well.”
“Are they? Tell me about them!”
There isn’t much to tell, not when the children are so young, but Obi-Wan knows she needs to hear something, anything . The Organa family love Leia as their own, raising her with grace and promising that she will know who her mother is. Luke is just as loved, although Owen Lars is reluctant to share Luke’s true parentage, believing the less he knows the better.
“Of course, if he starts showing to be force sensitive, he will need training,” Obi-Wan mentions.
A strange expression passes Padme’s face, almost imperceptible save for the way her brows crease and eyes darken. The force. The light and the dark. It stole her future so why would she want that for her children?
“Would that really be necessary?” She asks hesitantly.
Obi-Wan reaches for her hand, Padmé stilling for only a second before she relaxes into the warm touch. “I don’t mean to make him a…Jedi.” The word sticks in his throat. “But learning to control the force, to keep it hidden, will keep them safe.”
They talk a little longer. Padmé tells him about her time on Takodana, how she’s been improving her home to make it comfortable and how Maz is always looking out for her.
“Thank you, Obi-Wan,” she adds. “I didn't feel it at the time but this was the right decision.”
“There’s nothing to thank,” he smiles. “I’d do anything for Anakin’s family. You know that.”
Is that the only reason?
The little voice in his head mocks him. It’s his sense of duty to his fallen brother’s family, his guilt for the part he played.
It comes time to leave but the way she’s looking at him with her wide eyes and pouted lips makes it difficult. “Please come back soon,” she says, standing on her toes to kiss him on the cheek. The contact feels electric, his skin still tingling where she’s touched.
Tatooine is desolate and lonely. He can go for weeks without talking more than a few words to a soul. Owen has made it clear that Obi-Wan should stay away. He doesn’t want Luke to know anything and all attempts to convince him have fallen on deaf ears. Alone in the cold night, he tries to think of pleasant memories without the sting of loss but it isn’t easy.
Satine comes to his mind. He pictures her intelligent pale eyes, the smile she would give him when nobody else was looking and the scent of her blonde hair.
My dearest Obi-Wan…
In the darkness, he hears her voice, his senses flooded with the memory of how it felt to be with her. Their stolen moments between sheets where he was not a Jedi and she was not a duchess. They were just two people who loved one another.
Giving in to the fantasy, he slips down below his waistband, taking himself in hand. Eyes closed tightly, he groans, breathing hard as he imagines her touch. He comes with a gasp, seed spilling over his knuckles and when the euphoria of release passes, he’s left with only shame and even deeper isolation.
His visits might start as duty, but craving comfort and connection, Obi-Wan finds his visits to Padmé grow more frequent. Sometimes they talk for hours, about their lives and their thoughts of the future, but mainly about her children and all the things she wants to give them when they’re reunited. Obi-wan knows it won’t be that simple, but why spoil it for her.
Other times they sit in silence, content to bask in the closeness of their trust, their shared experience. Lounging on the sofa of her hut, Obi-Wan realises she’s shifted to lean against him, snuggling into his side. The conflict in him makes his stomach churn. It isn’t right, but somehow it feels too soothing to push her away immediately.
“Are you certain you can’t stay?” She asks softly. “You always leave so quickly.”
The disappointment from her is palpable, causing a sting in his heart. He never wants to stay longer than he has to, lest the guilt eats him alive. Now he wonders if there’s more to it. The longer he stays, the more comfortable he feels. Like he won’t want to leave again.
But it’s hard to deny her when she’s looking at him that way. “I suppose I can stay a little longer.”
The sun begins to set. There’s humidity on Takodana that doesn’t exist on Tatooine, taking the chill off the night. The fire pit isn’t necessary for warmth but it’s a pleasant change considering his surroundings and knowing he doesn't have to make his long journey any time soon has him relaxed.
That and whatever hooch Maz has given them.
“What exactly is this?” He winces after another gulp. “It tastes like engine fuel and fruit.”
Padmé giggles a light and happy sound he hasn’t heard in so long. There’s a slight blush spreading across her cheeks from the fire and alcohol.
“What are you talking about? It’s a fine vintage!” Padmé teases. “Besides, when you need it, it’ll do the job. Sometimes you just need a drink, right?”
“Right.” He’d never been a big drinker. “It was never something I did often, to be honest.”
“Were the Jedi forbidden to drink?”
“There were a lot of things the Jedi weren’t supposed to do,” he smiles wryly. “No, it wasn’t forbidden but I found it would interfere with my control of the force. Not that it matters anymore.”
Padmé looks down at her cup, absently swirling the liquid. “Can you still use it?” She asks shyly.
Obi-Wan takes another drink, the strong alcohol making him lightheaded. He hasn’t used it since Mustafar, not really. Too afraid of his feelings, culpability, and unwillingness to draw attention to himself when his life is forfeited. “I try not to,” he finally answers.
“Anakin didn’t tell me too much about the details of using the force,” she said wistfully, her eyes far away. She bites her lip before speaking again. “I miss him.”
It’s not a subject he wanted to talk about but clearly, Padmé is heading in that direction fast. Obi-Wan sighs heavily. “I miss him too. Everyone that we’ve lost…I failed them.”
“You didn’t-...”
“I did,” He insists. “That’s something I have to live with.”
They’re already sitting so close, her body pressed against his. She leans towards him, firmly draping her arm around his shoulder. “You haven’t failed, Obi-Wan. Nothing is your fault.”
His laugh is humourless, shaking his head as he downs the last of his drink. “I haven’t not failed,” he reasons. Padmé follows his lead, refilling their drinks. “I lost Qui-Gon because I wasn’t fast enough. I lost Anakin because I wasn’t perceptive of what was going on around me. I lost Satine because I wasn’t brave enough-…”
“Obi-Wan, stop!” Padmé cried, holding his face between her hands.
His beard is surprisingly soft under her palms, her thumbs brushing his cheeks gently. Padmé opens her mouth to speak again, breath catching, staring at him with those eyes he finds comfort in. He has no warning, no time to prepare when she quickly leans in, kissing him firmly.
The haze of alcohol and a lingering need for comfort stops any sensible reaction. It doesn’t seem to matter that this is Padmé. Her lips are soft and gentle, whimpering as he parts for her. She tastes like the moonshine they’ve been drinking, sweet and heady and exactly what he needs to forget his pain.
As quickly as it begins, she suddenly pulls away. “Sorry! Gods, Obi-Wan. I’m so sorry. I-…I don’t know what came over me.”
Still dazed, it takes a moment for him to reply. “It’s alright,” he assures her but Padmé is still shaking her head.
“Maybe-... we should just get some sleep,” she suggests, gesturing to the bed.
“I’ll sleep here,” Obi-Wan says.
“Don’t be ridiculous, you’ll never sleep well there.” It’s true, the sofa is large enough to sit but not to sleep a whole night, although he neglects to mention he’s slept in worse places. “Just share the bed with me.”
Obi-Wan balks at the suggestion. They’re both vulnerable, grieving and more than a little drunk. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea-…”
“Obi-Wan, it’s fine . We’re just going to sleep.”
She sounds sure and he doesn’t have the heart to deny her. Besides, her bed looks far more comfortable than anything back on Tatooine and he is tired. He lets her lead him to the bed, falling on his side as she settles next to him, his chest facing her back. He lies perfectly still, for how long he can’t say, unsure if she’s already fallen asleep. Her body is a silhouette against the light of the dying fire, warm and soothing to his frayed nerves. Slowly, his hand reaches for her, resting lightly on her side. Padme sighs, an oddly content sound, but she doesn’t move.
This is wrong. This is wrong. This is wrong.
There’s something carnal taking over. Moving on instinct alone, like a flower seeking the light. She’s a balm to his loneliness, water after so long in a dessert. He needs this and it means nothing, right? His thumb begins to rub a circle against her side, stroking upwards to palm a breast below her loose fitted tunic. Padmé stills and he pauses, suddenly fearful that he’s crossed a line. He expects her to wake and demand he unhand her but the way she moves back against him pushes him onward. Lips find her neck, beard tickling as he moves.
“Tell me to stop…” he whispers roughly by her ear, breath hot against the sensitive skin. He should stop, this isn’t right. They aren’t thinking straight, rational thinking too clouded by misery and a desperate need for anything other than agony.
“Don’t stop,” Padmé breathes, her hand covering his to direct him lower, trailing his palm down her stomach below the band of her leggings. He sucks in a shuddery breath when she moans lightly, his fingers brushing her slit.
She’s warm in his arms, his body curling around her as her back pressed into his chest. His groan mingles with hers feeling how wet she is and suddenly the concept of right or wrong disappears from his mind. All that matters is the bliss, the escape both of them are chasing.
“More.” He’s circling her clit, picking up pace as his teeth find her ear, panting as he thrusts against her, his solid cock needing the friction. “More…”
They’re both sloppy, uncoordinated in their movements, tugging on clothes to free themselves. Obi-wan releases a shuddering breath when his cock brushes her folds from behind, sliding through her damp cunt to coat himself in her slick.
“Are-…you sure?” He takes her shaky nod and the way she grinds her backside against him as a yes, and he sinks in, driving his hips upward until he’s flush with hers.
Her eyes are screwed shut as tightly as his but he feels the shiver of pleasure run up her spine, both moaning in the dying firelight. Thrusts start off slow and shallow, testing the feeling and gasping as her walls clench around him. Lips part, small sounds of ‘oh’ escaping with every thrust he gives her.
The position they’re in affords them separation. He can’t see her face, with his eyes closed he can’t see that she doesn’t have blonde hair and pale skin. Just for a moment, he can believe he’s with her again. He doesn’t hear Padme, not really. He’s imagining it’s his darling Satine. She’s still with him, safe in his arms and bed. It kills the pain for now.
He grabs her thigh to roll her open, both moaning loudly as he sinks deeper, pleasure flooding them both. The grip he holds her with is enough to leave marks on her skin, but there isn’t room to care. Nothing matters. Not the tragic past nor the bleak future. All that matters to them now is the feeling. Their despair and pain are forgotten in one another for a moment of hedonism. He’s so close. Skin slapping against skin, a grunt being pulled from him with every stroke. Pounding into her over and over, the hut fills with lusty cries.
I’ve loved you always, I always will…
A final, hard thrust brings them over the edge, the woman in his arms trembling as she comes for him. They lie still, hearts racing, breathing heavily until he pulls from her, cum dripping onto the blankets below.
And reality comes crashing in.
Opening his eyes makes him feel sick, the flash of brunette hair bringing him to his senses. He rights himself in a clumsy fluster, pulling his trousers up to stumble from the bed, immediately leaving the hut. Is she calling after him? Maybe. Maybe not. He feels dizzy, the full weight of his betrayal feeling like a punch to the stomach. Falling to his knees by the side of the lake, he heaves. It’s an acrid mixture of bile and booze that he quickly washes from his mouth, but he remains on the ground.
Anakin. Satine. Padme. He’s betrayed them all. Breaking his silent vow to Satine and finding pleasure in the widow of his fallen brother. He feels dirty, using the woman for his own comfort and giving in to desperation.
“Obi-Wan?”
She’s standing behind him, wrapped in a blanket with a sad expression. Her voice sounds like pity.
“Padme, I-...I don’t know what got into me,” he chokes, refusing to look at her. His eyes are stinging. “I’ll-...I’ll go.”
“Obi-Wan, no,” she says gently, with an understanding he doesn't feel he deserves. From behind, he feels the blanket draped over his shoulders. “You did nothing wrong!”
Now he turns to look at her, incredulous and confused. “I-...I took advantage of you! We’ve been drinking, we’re grieving. It wasn’t right of me.”
Padme helps him to his feet, offering a humourless smile. “Perhaps I took advantage of you? Don’t you think I’d have told you to stop if I hadn’t wanted to?”
Her question only shames him further. The idea that Padme Amidala doesn’t have her own agency is laughable, even after everything. He hangs his head, avoiding her eyes, but she reaches for his cheek to make him look at her. The action is painfully familiar.
I’m still not sure about the beard?
Why, what’s wrong with it?
It hides too much of your handsome face.
He flinches. Padme quickly withdraws her hand.
At first, the separation does him good.
He returns to Tatooine, keeping his vigil over Luke and maintaining a low profile. He meditates, trying to connect to Qui-Gon Jin, to Mace Windu. Anyone who might be able to offer him guidance. He thinks of Satine often, praying for her forgiveness. He’d vowed to be with no other and he’d broken that but soon the isolation sets in again, the torment of his memories. He’d promised Padme he would return with news of her children and when it comes time to keep his pledge, he finds himself overcome with desperation.
That’s how he finds himself in her bed again. Their tryst is more calculated this time and he isn’t sure if that makes it worse. They’ve stripped to the skin, Obi-Wan flat on his back as she rides him, leaning forward on his chest for leverage to set the bruising, rough pace. Her eyes are closed just like his.
Because if they aren’t looking at each other they can escape their reality. It’s almost an unspoken agreement they’ve fallen into, using each other's bodies for release and consolation. The pain is more acute later but who has time to care when the escape is too euphoric?
Besides, they could both be dead tomorrow.
Her nails dig into his chest, marking his skin as she moans loudly, head thrown back when she reaches her peak. Obi-Wan isn’t far behind, squeezing his eyes tighter as her body milks him for all he’s worth.
Both spent, she climbs off him, the sweat cooling on their bodies.
“What are you thinking?”
As far as the Jedi Council know, General Kenobi is on a diplomatic mission to Mandalore. They don’t need to know exactly how diplomatic he’s been with the duchess since his arrival. He’s lying back against the plush pillows and headboard of the bed in the duchess’s chambers, his hands absently stroking her bare back. From her place on top of him, she rests her chin on his stomach, looking up at him with those intelligent pale blue eyes.
“Nothing,” he smiles fondly, stroking a strand of hair from her face. “I’m just enjoying the moment.”
“As sweet as that is, I know you,” Satine replies. “You’re always thinking of something.”
“Perhaps I’m thinking about you?”
“Hmm. What about me?” She asks playfully. Moving up his body to straddle his waist, her arms loop around his neck.
“How much I’ve missed you. How beautiful you look in my arms,” he says, pulling her down to him, nose caressing her cheek while she giggles girlishly. “How much time we’ve wasted apart from one another.”
“I’ve always admired your commitment to your duty but I have to admit, I do resent it sometimes,” Satine sighs. She understands more than most about putting duty before personal feelings. That doesn’t mean she enjoys it. “When do you have to leave?”
“I’m expected back on Coruscant in two days,” he answers. “This war isn’t going to fight itself.”
Satine strokes his face, her palm caressing his beard softly as he leans into her touch.
“Well then, Master Jedi, we’d better make the most of our time together.”
It isn’t love.
Obi-Wan had been in love once, although by the time he realised what it was, it was too late for them. His romance with Satine Kryze had begun as a padawan when he was young and idealistic, sent to protect the duchess during the civil war. Their duties tore them apart and now, after everything, Obi-Wan wonders if it had been worth the sacrifice. The woman he loves is dead.
Whatever he and Padmé have, it isn’t love. It’s convenient escapism that suits them both.
He’s hammering into her from behind, Padmé’s face buried into the mattress while she cries out. Her hands fist in the blankets. A particularly sharp thrust pushes her further down. His movements are rougher, gritting his teeth and snarling. It’s been longer than usual since his last visit and the sorrow he’s been harbouring has finally made way for a burning rage he hasn’t felt since Mandalore. Since…
Remember, my dear Obi-Wan…
Fingers dig into her hips. So close. He’s so close.
“Oh, Gods- …Anakin !”
A fevered moan from her makes his eyes snap open, abruptly stopping and pulling away like touching her would burn. On shaky legs he leaves the bed, grabbing his trousers from the floor.
“I-…I’m sorry. It just came out,” Padmé stammers with embarrassment, wrapping herself in the sheets.
Obi-Wan shoves his hair back from his face, frustrated and conflicted as he paces the space in front of the bed.
“Come back to bed?” Her voice is small and unsure.
The moment is over. The spell is broken. No amount of distraction can change what he’s done. What they’ve both done.
“Padmé, what are we doing?” He asks, sounding tired. “This-…whatever this is. It’s not right. We need to stop.”
“I didn’t mean to-…”
“I know!” He snaps, harsher than he means to. “But we can’t keep drowning in each other when you’re pretending I’m someone else!”
Padmé scowls suddenly, standing from the bed and dragging the sheets with her. “There are two of us here, Obi-Wan. Don’t tell me that you aren’t doing the same thing! You can’t even look at me when we-…”
A deep sense of shame washes over him. What she says is true and it cuts him to the bone. “This needs to end.”
“But why? We’re not hurting anyone!”
“We’re hurting ourselves!” Obi-Wan cries. “It doesn’t matter what we do, how much we pretend. The people we love are lost and they-…” his voice catches in his throat. “They are not coming back.”
She’s crying now. Tears are running unchecked down her face and he wishes things were different. Bile rises in his throat. Padmé has become just another victim of his turbulent feelings, caught up in his pain and self-indulgence.
“What now?” She sniffs. “We’ve already lost too much, we can’t lose each other too. You have to stay.”
How many times can you have a heartbreak? Just when he thinks he can take no more, something else shatters him. This time it’s the way Padmé is begging him but her begging is what got them into this situation.
“Obi-Wan, I love you!”
His head snaps around to stare at her, eyes rimmed red with unshed tears. He shakes his head. “You don’t mean that.”
“I do!” She rushes to him, grasping the sheet with one hand and reaching for him with the other, trying to stroke his beard. Obi-Wan grasps her hand, pushing her away gently.
“You don’t!” He says forcefully. “You only think you love me because I’m a-…a source of solace. Something reliable.”
Her lip quivers. “Is that so bad?”
“It’s a lie, Padmé.” He steps back from her, creating further space.
“Do you love me?”
I’ve loved you from the moment you came to my aid, all those years ago…
Had you said the word, I would have left the Jedi Order…
Silently, he shakes his head, casting his eyes to the floor to avoid seeing the devastation on her face. She doesn’t deserve this. They don’t deserve this. “I will only ever love one.”
Padmé sniffs back her tears loudly. “Right. Satine.”
“I’m sorry, Padmé-…”
She shakes her head, turning her back to him. “Just go, Obi-Wan. Go.”
Saying nothing more, he picks up the last of his clothes.
It’s for the best, he decides.
Bail Organa takes over the duty of reporting to Padmé, telling her about her daughter and relaying Obi-Wan’s messages about Luke. The guilt he feels for leaving her is no more than all his other transgressions and their separation is for the best. He doesn’t love her and the self-loathing he feels having used her the way he did sits like a ball of ice in his stomach. Just another mistake he has to live with now.
Sitting cross legged in the setting twin suns, Obi-Wan pulls out a small holo. It flickers to life and he can look into her eyes once more.
My dearest Obi-Wan…