Chapter Text
Obi-Wan was used to being watched. He flattered himself that he was considered handsome by most people’s standards. He knew his colouring was unusual enough to offer some added appeal. Of course, he was getting older—there was a scattering of grey around his temples and fine lines at the corner of his eyes. Thirty-eight wasn't ancient, but he wasn’t young anymore either.
However, compared to a twenty-two year old alpha in their prime, he would hardly be considered a prize. Never mind one that was a known enemy of the empire.
But the way Anakin looked at him—the way his entire being brimmed with a dizzying combination of want, obsession and, sometimes, hatred—suggested he had no intention of ever letting Obi-Wan go. The emperor had clearly come to the same conclusion, which must have pleased him immensely. A Jedi bound to his prized apprentice — a symbol of conquest, of dominance, of the new order he’d carved out of the galaxy’s bones.
He swallowed, forcing his expression to remain neutral as Anakin guided him away from the throne. The crowd parted for them, a ripple of dark robes and hungry eyes. Obi‑Wan felt each gaze like a physical touch, assessing him, weighing him, imagining what it would take to break him.
He hated that he understood the calculation.
Anakin walked half a step ahead, shoulders tense beneath his cloak. Obi‑Wan could sense his brewing emotions through their bond — jealousy, fear, possessiveness, all tangled together in a knot so tight it was strangling him. And by extension, strangling Obi‑Wan.
They reached a quieter alcove in the long corridor leading away from the courtroom, shadowed and momentarily free of prying eyes.
Obi‑Wan exhaled, but the relief was short‑lived.
Anakin turned to him sharply. “He thinks you’re mine,” Anakin said, voice low.
Obi‑Wan met his gaze. “I gathered.”
“He’s not wrong.”
There it was — the truth, laid bare with the same blunt force Anakin used for everything he couldn’t control.
Obi‑Wan’s heart twisted painfully. “Anakin…”
“No.” Anakin stepped closer, eyes burning with something fierce and unsteady. “You don’t understand what he sees. What they all see. They think they can take you. Use you. Hurt you. And they will, if I let them.”
Obi‑Wan felt a flicker of something — not fear, but a cold, sharp awareness. “I’m not helpless.”
“I know that,” Anakin said, though his tone suggested he didn’t believe it. “But you’re vulnerable here. They smell it on you.”
Obi‑Wan bristled. “I am not prey.”
“You are to them.”
The words hit harder than they should have. Obi‑Wan looked away, jaw tightening. He hated that Anakin was right. He hated even more that Anakin knew he was right.
“And you enjoy it,” Obi‑Wan murmured before he could stop himself. “The way they look at me. The way they envy you.”
Anakin’s breath hitched — a small, sharp sound. “I don’t enjoy it.”
“You do,” Obi‑Wan said softly. “Because it means I’m yours.”
Anakin’s eyes darkened, the Force around him tightening like a snare. “You are.”
Obi‑Wan held his gaze, refusing to flinch. “I am here. That is all.”
“That’s enough,” Anakin said, but the tremor in his voice betrayed him.
He sensed the danger before he saw it.
A presence like a blade pressed to the back of his neck — sharp, hungry, familiar.
Maul.
The Zabrak stepped out of the shadows with a predator’s ease, yellow eyes gleaming. “You look tense, Lord Vader.”
Obi‑Wan’s stomach tightened. He had seen that look before — right before Maul tried to kill him. Again.
Anakin stepped forward. “Move.”
Maul’s grin widened. “Still so quick to obey your master’s summons. Tell me — does he keep you on a leash, or do you simply enjoy crawling?”
Obi‑Wan felt the air shift. Anakin stopped.
Slowly, Anakin turned. “You presume much,” he said, voice low and dangerous.
“I presume exactly enough.” Maul began circling him, and Obi‑Wan instinctively stepped back, out of the immediate line of fire. “You parade Kenobi around like a trophy, yet you tremble every time the Emperor looks at him. You fear losing what was never yours.”
Anakin’s fist clenched. “You know nothing.”
“Oh, but I do.” Maul leaned in, voice dropping to a whisper that made Obi‑Wan’s skin crawl. “I see the way you look at him. The desperation. The obsession. You’re weak, Vader. And weakness is—”
Anakin’s hand shot out, clamping around Maul’s throat.
The Force surged, crackling between them like lightning.
Maul’s feet lifted off the ground, but he only laughed — a rasping, delighted sound that made Obi‑Wan’s heart hammer.
“There it is,” Maul choked out. “The truth.”
Anakin tightened his grip. “I should have killed you years ago.”
“You tried,” Maul rasped, still smiling. “And failed.”
Obi‑Wan took a step forward before he could stop himself. “Anakin—”
Neither of them heard him.
The corridor felt too small, too charged, the air thick with hatred and the threat of violence. Obi‑Wan could feel the Force twisting around them, unstable and dangerous.
“You will not speak of him again,” Anakin hissed. “You will not look at him. You will not—”
“Enough.”
The word sliced through the air like a blade.
Obi‑Wan stiffened.
Palpatine stood at the end of the corridor, hands clasped, expression carved from ice. His presence pressed down on them like a suffocating weight.
“Release him, Lord Vader.
Anakin obeyed instantly, dropping Maul to the floor. Maul landed lightly, rolling his shoulders as though he hadn’t just been strangled.
Palpatine’s gaze flicked between them, cold and amused. “How disappointing. Two of my finest warriors reduced to squabbling over a Jedi.”
Obi‑Wan felt heat rise in his cheeks — anger, humiliation, and something else he refused to name.
Vader stiffened. Maul’s smile faded.
Palpatine stepped closer, voice soft but razor‑sharp. “You forget yourselves. You forget your purpose. The Empire does not tolerate petty rivalries.”
Maul bowed his head, though his eyes still burned. “My master.”
Anakin dropped to one knee. “Forgive me.”
Palpatine’s smile was thin and cruel. “I will — this time. But hear me well.”
His gaze settled on Anakin first.
“Your attachment to Kenobi is… useful. For now. But do not mistake indulgence for approval.”
Obi‑Wan felt a chill run down his spine.
Then Palpatine turned to Maul.
“And you. Your fixation on the past blinds you. Kenobi is no longer yours to torment.”
Maul’s jaw tightened, and Obi‑Wan felt the weight of that stare like a physical touch.
Palpatine’s voice dropped to a whisper that chilled them all. “He belongs to the Empire. And the Empire belongs to me.”
Obi‑Wan’s breath caught. The words were a chain, cold and heavy.
With a flick of his cloak, the Emperor turned away.
“Come,” he said without looking back. “We have much to discuss.”
Anakin rose immediately and followed.
Maul lingered a moment longer, eyes locked on Obi‑Wan with a hatred that simmered like molten metal.
“This isn’t over,” he murmured.
Obi‑Wan believed him.