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

Of Fawns & Fangs

• Summary: A Victorian era bodice ripper starring "ingenue" Anakin, vampire Obi-Wan, and far too many exposed ankles for polite company.

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"Don't struggle, dear one, or you'll aggravate your wound."

"M-My wound?"

The stranger smiled and glanced down to where his chilly hands were cradling Anakin's calf and foot as gently as if his body were made of glass. The joint of his left ankle had been carefully wrapped with clean linen bandages, tucked tightly to keep it from moving on its own. "You must have twisted it in your hurry to escape the wolves, my poor, pretty little fawn."

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Kitster shut the door to their shared quarters and bent to press his ear against the keyhole, motioning for Anakin to stay silent. Both young men held their breath, but only one understood the reason for such odd behavior; Anakin was left in the lurch, staring at the back of his best friend's head in utter bewilderment. After a long and frightfully tense pause, the shorter man turned to face his bunkmate. His expression was pinched, his eyebrows knitted together in concentration - the silence had stretched on for too long when Kitster finally sighed and steadied himself.

"Anakin, you know I wouldn't say this unless there were incredibly dire circumstances, but unfortunately we have found ourselves in incredibly dire circumstances. You need to put whatever you cannot bear to part from into a bag and run as far as you can from this place, as quickly as you can manage. I fear greatly for your personal safety should you still be within the walls of the keep come sunrise."

"Wh-What the fuck are you talking about? Why did you come back to our rooms so early? I thought you were going to be busy tending to the needs of the Count and Lord Palpatine this evening. I- I don't understand what's going on."

"I was serving them tea just a few short minutes ago, I swear it," Kitster half-whispered. His shoulders were hunched forward and he stepped away from the door as if he was afraid of being overheard. "But I was sent out of the room when his Lordship steered the conversation towards a matter of personal business."

"What kind of personal business could Lord Palpatine have with the Count that has you urging me to flee the keep and my contract?" Anakin questioned. Panic started to roil in his gut. Kitster had been indentured to the Count shortly after Anakin and his Mother, when the boys were both children. He was the only other servant near Anakin's age and they had become close confidants over the years. Anakin knew the other boy would never suggest he commit such a heinous crime unless Kitster was seriously concerned for his friend's wellbeing.

"Your contract is exactly the issue, Ani. I lurked in the hallway to listen for a moment because I'm not an idiot and- and you were right when we spoke earlier this evening. You were right about the way his Lordship was looking at you. The way he was only accepting wine from your decanter and food that you served personally. He's offered to buy your contract from the Count at whatever price he demands. He intends to take you away to Coruscant with him in the morning, when he leaves with the rest of his retinue."

"Fuck," Anakin hissed. The panic had evolved into full-blown terror; he didn't want to leave but he certainly didn't want to wait around and discover what Lord Palpatine wanted with him. "You're right, I need to get out of here. The way his eyes never seemed to be able to stop wandering while I served him dinner made me feel physically ill."

"Gather your things quickly while I keep an eye on the corridor. You'll have to sneak out the back and over the roof of the stables; our Master has twice the guards posted near the front gate for his Lordship's safety."