The Dark Side of the Moon

by Ki

Warning: The following story contains semi-explicit m/m contents. Please press 'delete' if you are a) below 18 and b) easily offended by homosexuality.

Disclaimer: all hail the mighty LucasWorld

Author: Ki

Category: POV, angst, AU, character death

Rating: NC-17

Summary: DarkSith!Obi-Wan speaks. References to the JA (Jedi Apprentices) books. I have to warn you: not many people will love this story.

Dedicated to Cleo who is always there even I rant and rave about the daily injustices of life.

The moon.

It rises in the sky like a huge white disc, illuminating the heavens. It glows, hurting your eyes.

There are many legends surrounding the moon. Sorceresses are known to become more powerful when the moon is at its fullest. Another legend speaks about the court lady who lives alone on the moon with only a white rodent for companion. A variation of the story has her rebelling against her husband; she takes the pill of immortality offered by the ancient gods and flies off to the moon in tears and shame.

I gaze at the moon, cursing its brightness. With a soft growl, I merge back into the room, pulling up my hood. There is the faint strand of harp music drifting from the main dining hall. Now I remember: I am supposed to accompany my Master on a diplomatic trip. I growl once more, feeling the dark tendrils of frustration curl around me like black feelers. I welcome their touch and for a brief moment, I savor the Darkness, tasting its bitter sweetness.

The Jedi robe feels cumbersome, rough. Its sandy texture is supposed to teach discipline and hardiness. It is a hindrance, an obstacle.

It is also essential for my masquerade.

I smile to myself, heading for the dining hall where I can hear the laughter and off-key singing. Good, they are drunk. I slip easily into the role tailored and planned for me: I become Obi-Wan Kenobi, the obedient padawan apprentice of Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn. I steel myself and enter into the hall. I am instantly greeted with a myriad of aromas and fragrances. Rancid perfume. Armpit odor. Vomit. Crushed lilies. Roast meat.


Qui-Gon Jinn. A tall, proud man with long grey hair. My Master. I bow deeply, the normal response of a good padawan learner in front of his teacher.

"Master," I say quietly and I laugh to myself. Fool. Ineffectual old fool.

For the next hour, I sit silently next to Qui-Gon and say nothing. We are served platters of meat and vegetables. Goblets are quickly filled with red wine and I sip mine politely, even though voices in me cry out to be satisfied. Blood, blood, blood, they chant. I will soon relish my victory and now I will bid my time. My eyes pick out the Daivan delegation, jotting on my observations of these equine aliens: long noses, short ears and nervous depositions. Good.

The dinner is soon over and I follow Qui-Gon back to our appointed room. I observe Qui-Gon closely, like a hunting hawk before it pounces on a weak rat. He strips off his dark Jedi robes, rubbing his aching shoulders. He is getting old and he feels his age today. His hair glistens under the light, a cascade of grey and dark brown. He hunches slightly as he settles onto a chair, sighing softly. I glide over and massage his shoulders, kneading the taut muscles and murmuring words of comfort to him.

I can feel him relaxing under my fingers and I begin to massage his back, knowing that his guards are gradually collapsing under my hands. He trusts me and I know it. I lean forward, brushing the back of his neck with my lips while my right hand inches forward to caress his chest. I hear him groan and I quietly remove his pants so that I can kneel in front of him. I look at his sea-blue eyes, seeing the trust in them. Trust. For a man who is fifty, he has a lot to learn about blind trust.

He is plainly aroused and I take advantage of it, teasing him until he cries out for me to stop. I only shake my head, stroking his hot organ until it swells between my fingers, pulsating and slick with moist cum. But he climaxes quickly, like the old man he is and he slumps back into his chair, breathing heavily.

"Obi-Wan, you are beautiful," he says to me as we head for the bedroom. His hand is on my shoulder and I know that he wants more tonight.

The moon is already low in the sky when I slip out from the room, clad in black. I am about to carry out my task sent to me by my real Master. I prowl along the corridors, gathering the Force around like a shroud, shielding me from any prying eyes. The darkness whispers and I revel, grinning. I love the night with its many opportunities. Possibilities. The thrill of success flows deliciously in my veins. I will succeed.

I will succeed in everything because I am trained to break down barriers, tear down mental guards. I am called Sinn. You are a beautiful child, the voice of my Master told me once when I was only a child, left alone and weeping on Bandomeer. I will train you and make you powerful. I accepted.

The Daivan leader sleeps peacefully on his elongated bed. I can see his nostrils flaring as he breathes. I send a tiny scythe of the Force, sharpened and lethal, into his body, slicing the vital links that join his heart to the rest of his biological systems. He begins to gasp, tossing and turning as the pain rips him apart.

I quickly return to the bedroom, shed my clothes and position myself beside Qui-Gon who still sleeps, unaware of the death happening nearby. I can taste the death throes in my mind, licking my lips.

Qui-Gon turns in his slumber and drapes an arm around me, his breath tickling my back. I close my eyes and sleep. There will be more activities tomorrow. I need to rejuvenate myself, regain back my strength and prepare for a long day.

Indeed, the Daivan delegation is in a state of panic and despair when we wake up in the morning. Qui-Gon frowns, feeling the rifts in the Force. I curb a chuckle and I pretend to help the distraught Daivan while I cast covert glances at Qui-Gon who walks around, making urgent enquiries and talking softly to the officers in charge of the assassination. I can smell the fear in the air, a perversely comforting fragrance. It is a good feeling. Fear. Anger. Despair.

I return back to the room later in the day, pulling off the robes and tossing them onto the floor. I am getting tired of this charade. Patience, the voice in my head whispers. Patience, my apprentice. I catch my reflection in the full-length mirror and I step forward, looking closely at the young sandy-haired man, clad in an off-white tunic. I narrow my eyes and the young man does the same action. Blue-green eyes, the color of calm seas. I flex my arms, seeing the sinews ripple. I have not used my hands in real combat and I long to break vulnerable bones, hear the reassuring crack of shattered skulls. Feel fresh blood flowing down my arms in warm rivulets.

I pull the tunic off and soon I am naked. I stare at the reflection, seeing a healthy body. A young man, honed by the Jedi discipline. His body trim and taut. No hint of fat. It is a lean lithe body, agile and fast enough for fighting. I touch the padawan braid curling down my right side, rubbing it between my fingers.


I snarl and turn around, my reflexes switched to attack mode, seeing only Qui-Gon who stands back in alarm.

"I am sorry, Obi-Wan. Have I startled you?"

I soften my expression and shake my head. "No, master." Instead, I walk towards him, still nude, and I wrap myself around him, kissing his beard, licking the base of his throat. He melts like pudding in my hands and we have sex, right there in the middle of the room. I ease myself down his erection, using all the seduction techniques taught to me. I urge him on, deeply aware that he is so close to falling in love with me. Foolish Jedi. Love. When I first made love to him, he was so shocked, almost repulsed by the entire idea. Damn chastity and the Jedi code to remain chaste. I can't possibly bear the idea of men and women who walk around with their brains between their legs.

But I broke him easily. Qui-Gon Jinn. The Jedi's best negotiator and warrior. When I met him a long time ago, he was already in his prime. Yet ... yet that was after I met my real Master, a Sith Lord. I had already pledged allegiance to the Darkness by then. Being a padawan apprentice to the Jedi Master only serves to further the Sith's cause. I have deceived countless Jedi, making them believe that I am Qui-Gon's padawan. I have deceived Qui-Gon too. He is easy to turn. A word there, a simple touch here. A gesture. A smile. He is an old man who wishes to be loved. So I use those inner desires deep inside him.

I gaze down as I feel the old man buckle beneath me and I catch his eyes. They shine. They glow. Damn it, they are filled with ...


Qui-Gon loves me.

I squeeze my eyes shut, willing myself to see instead the beauty of darkness, of moonless nights. Not blue eyes, liquid with love. Squashing the words of affection as if I am killing irritating bugs.

He is deceiving himself. He is in love with a dream.

It is night once again and I sit on the ledge, grateful for the waning of the moon. Qui-Gon has retired early; the exhaustion has gotten to him. We have spent the entire day, helping the Daivan in their criminal investigations. Their findings are inconclusive; I make sure they remain inconclusive. The Jedi Council has been informed and soon, reinforcements will arrive. The second part of my plan has to be implemented.

But now, I think about my past. Beautiful boy. Beautiful body. I am called Sinn because I can worm my way into someone's psyche and turn it into rot. I am told that I am so beautiful that people will give up anything to be with me. I am Sin personified.

But love doesn't work for me. I shudder, barely suppressing my disgust. Love. When two people declare their undying affection for each other. It is horrible. The idea of two like-minded people being together. I don't need obligations in my life.


I strip off the tunic and pad stealthily into the bedroom, climbing onto the bed. Qui-Gon stir, his long hair covering the pillow. I smile and begin to caress him. I kiss his torso, trailing my tongue down to his midriff. I can hear him moan aloud, his limbs thrashing about. My mouth tease his nipples and I can see them stiffen, hardening. His organ is beginning to swell and I rip off his trousers, taking the moist tip into my mouth. His body arches up in a sharp jerk, signaling his intense pleasure.

"Obi-Wan, I!"

Love. The word rankles in my soul. Soul. Ha,do I have a soul?

I relish the sight of the Jedi Master losing control. I begin to rejoice even as he thrusts his hips, pushing his organ deep into my mouth. He comes, spurting his cum. I can taste it. Salty. Bitter. His essence within my control.

"Obi-Wan," he says softly, reaching out a hand and stroking my face. I turn away, feeling myself burned by that hand. "You are so beautiful ..."

"No. I am not."

Damn you, Jedi. I am shaking because you say that you love me. Damn you to all the levels of the Sith Hells. Why am I shaking? Because you look at me with those trusting blue eyes? Damn you, I am a Sith Lord, not a weak Jedi fool!

With a cruel twist of the Force, I crush his windpipe, breaking the neck. For a while, the blue eyes stare at me in a fleeting moment of betrayal. Why? He seemed to say before his eyes roll up and his eyelids close. Even in death, he looks calm, collected. The violent death doesnt seem to affect him at all. I look down at the former Jedi Master, wanting to feel the powerful thrill of triumph ...but it will not come. I can only feel defeat like a dull throbbing ache.

I get up from the bed and quietly, I drape the blankets over the corpse. There is no victory for me. No triumph. No joy. I back away, knowing that I will have to leave.

In the morning, the servants will discover the body of a Jedi Master and the disappearance of Obi-Wan Kenobi. No trace will be found of the padawan apprentice. He is simply gone.

Nobody will know that a shadowy figure has left the building in the middle of the night, slipping away under the darkened moon. Nobody will know that this person is walking in the dark side of the beautiful moon. Nobody knows that Darth Sinn ever exists.

Noone will.

Not only even the moon that overlooks everything under her benign influence.

I am Darth Sinn and I walk in the dark side of the moon.

My Master will be proud of me. The Jedi will fall and the decay has already started with the death of their best Jedi Master.