Two Halfs of One Warrior • Obikin/Vaderwan One-Shots

The Fall of the Master

• Summary: There is nothing Obi-Wan wouldn't do to save Anakin's life.

A Revenge of the Sith AU where Obi-Wan is the one who turns to the Dark Side instead of Anakin.

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Chapter 1: Prologue

If Obi-Wan thought about it— really —thought about it, he would’ve pinned the moment of his fall not when he swore himself to the Sith.

Obi-Wan Kenobi’s fall came on a night not unlike any other, deep in the middle of the Clone Wars. It had been raging for over three standard years then, and he had grown used to the sounds of battle just beyond his ship. It wasn’t something he ever thought he would grow used to, but after the first year, he found himself able to sleep through grenades and blaster-fire and death. He used to lay awake all night, telling himself that he would be more than useless if he couldn’t dull out the sounds long enough to sleep for a few hours.

But, that night, in his tiny bunk, barely wide enough for two narrow beds, Obi-Wan slept soundly.

It didn’t matter that there was a battle raging on Isalon. It didn’t matter that Obi-Wan had fallen asleep in clothes he had worn for three days straight. It didn’t matter that Anakin was snoring louder than any bomb lobbed in their direction.

Obi-Wan slept. And Obi-Wan dreamed.

Dreams were rare for the master. After everything he had seen—battlefields, murder, Satine —Obi-Wan had dulled himself to dreams through extensive mediation. If he was more likely to get nightmares that would make him wake in a cold sweat after only an hour of rest, then they were a detriment and needed to go.

But every now and then, they crept through. And they weren’t good.

Fire. There was fire everywhere . It scorched Obi-Wan’s skin as he stood on the bank of a river made of lava.

And Anakin—

Anakin was a ruin at his feet.

Anakin writhed in pain, screaming and howling as his flesh melted. His hair had burned away, leaving behind a burnt, barren scalp. His arm, his legs—they were gone.

And his eyes —yellow, monstrous.

As Anakin howled, Obi-Wan took a step back. He stepped away from the fire, from the mangled undead corpse in front of him.

Away from Anakin.

Obi-Wan gasped as he awoke, launching himself into a seated position. Hands trembling, he wrapped them around his legs as he pressed his face into his knees and made himself breathe.

It had been a dream. It had been a dream that was precisely the reason Obi-Wan didn’t want dreams. He focused on the room around him.

He could hear a muffled battle from outside the ship—quieter than it had been when he had dozed off, so it must’ve been the middle of the night.

He could feel his beard tickling his skin—overgrown, he would need to shave in the morning if he wasn’t charging into the battlefield.

He could sense Anakin only a few feet to his right—close enough that if Obi-Wan stretched out his arm, he would be able to shake his best friend awake and confirm that he hadn’t been burned beyond recognition.

As if knowing Obi-Wan’s thoughts had strayed to him, Anakin sleepily mumbled, “Master?”

“I didn’t mean to wake you, Anakin,” Obi-Wan said, unashamed at the shake of his voice. He could never be ashamed around Anakin, not after everything they had endured. To hide weakness would be a point of shame.