#another lost son of dathomir

[skellymom]

The BAD BATCH Mini Series HALLOWEEN Fan Fic

"The Tale of the Dathomir Witch" 

All Ages: Sadness, mentions of canon Star Wars Empire badness, crying, and some sweet revenge at the end of this tale (you will have to wait until Chapter 3)! (I did change some of Old Daka's canon lore to write this. She really doesn't have too much of a story, decided to give her some more.)

Word Count: 2K

Chapter 1

"Start a War" by Klergy: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=i3fmyVL6CwU&list=PLTsJd3M7E5yeGJaZsh3pgYUAQdsnbgyBD&index=123

“Gather ‘round children on this charmed night. The veil between worlds is at its thinnest. I will tell you a tale of a determined old witch who set out to change the galaxy....” 

Cries of young voices rang out in her head. Old Daka was roused from deep contemplation. She was plotting the planets and stars belonging to the wheel of the standard cycle. The cries immediately silenced, leaving her heart mourning the void it left behind. Many young lives were suddenly snuffed out. She was sure of it.  

So many lives left this galaxy of late. She felt them all. Victims of war, slavery, grabs for positions of power. The Empire rearing its head above the surface and devouring anything standing in its’ way. The dark dragon that constantly eats and is never sated. 

She foresaw it’s growing power, for years. Tried to warn anyone who would listen...but no one would sit long enough to hear the rantings of an old woman. She did her research, consulting the elements, listening to tidbits of news along the grapevine, divination, interpreting dreams, reading entrails of small animals, the whispers of Force ghosts in the wind. The path all led to one source: 

Emperor Palpatine...now Darth Sidious. 

Daka spat on the ground even thinking his name. He was a curse to the galaxy. She never considered herself a rebel or freedom fighter. She was just an ancient Night Sister whose eyes were wide open to the higher vibrations of The Force. Palpatine was such a wasteful cur, leaving so many bodies in his wake. Including all her Night Sisters. Old Daka had narrowly escaped and went into hiding. The Jedi and Clones helped him do so, unaware that he would destroy them in the end.  

Oh Palpy, as she won’t to call him, thought himself a proper Sith. He was sorely mistaken. He played Sith. Clueless man.  

************************************************************************

Several days passed and word spread through the galaxy: The Jedi were dead, including the Younglings. The Jedi Temple was also destroyed. Daka was sick of the killing. She would reach out with the Force to see who she could align with. She would not rest.  

"The Witch Hammer" by Sacred Soundwave: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Uv4lDkOym8Y&list=RDGMEMYH9CUrFO7CfLJpaD7UR85w&index=17 

Daka sat cross-legged on the floor of her room concentrating, humming, settling in on her sitting bones. As she relaxed, felt her essence leave her body and travel around the galaxy. Tasting star dust, riding on the tail of comets, listening to foreign songs of the planets. She was searching for someone in particular.  

She reached out to Master Yoda, his presence strong somewhere in the Outer Rim. But just as she thought she could sense his location, his presence immediately vanished. 

“Bah!” She was disgusted. He was blocking her attempt to find him. No matter, she had another option. And, she found him, still alive and hiding on a dusty planet among the Outer Rim. 

“Kenobi!” she screeched.  

He jumped and spun around, facing her Force Ghost. Obi-Wan looked older, tired, broken. “Old Daka, what brings you here to my cave???” He attempted the old Kenobi swagger but fell short. Those days were behind him. 

“Darth Sidious grows stronger. I seek your assistance to bring an end to him.” 

“You don’t waste any time with formality I see. We will bring him down, Daka. Vader’s son is hidden and safe. When he grows up...” 

“Save it, Kenobi! I have no patience for waiting years while many lives are lost in Sidious’ wake. The galaxy has no time for young Skywalker to grow up. We MUST act NOW!!!” 

“Your Sith blood is much too passionate and impulsive, Old Daka. In good time...” 

“BAH! Kenobi, I can smell your fear. You hide in this cave away from your failure with Anakin, unable to confront it!!!” 

“But Anakin...” 

“Can still be saved! He can raise his children even with the pitiful condition you left him in on Mustafar. Sidious must be taken out at the knees. With his absence the galaxy will pick up the pieces. Vader will die and Anakin reborn. His children will heal his heart. His children will know their father.” 

“Daka, listen to reason!” 

“The Jedi can rise again. The Sith can come back. They will unite to become a sum greater than two factions. The galaxy will finally know balance. My Night Sisters can be restored..." 

“No Daka! I will not help you. Not now, not ever.” 

“Weak man!” She roared. “I am but an old woman that sees a better future and willing to give my life to attain it. Not hide away for years hoping for the sliver of a chance that might blow away like a fart in the wind!!!” 

Obi-Wan winced at her language. He turned his back to Old Daka, stonewalling her. 

“Goodbye Kenobi” and with that she broke the Force link between her world and his. She snapped back into her body back in her antiquated room. She was still in cross legged position, and stiff from the extended time in it. 

She was terribly disappointed in Obi-Wan Kenobi. No help whatsoever.  

Old Daka had one other option.  

With effort, she got to her feet, stretching out her stiff old legs. She walked over to the ceremonial brazier and lit a bundle of Star Sedge. Dropping it in, she wafted the smoke to her face and deeply inhaled, then held the smoke in her lungs. Daka exhaled and started chanting and dancing The Spiral pattern on the floor. She reached out with both hands to find holes in the aether. She closed her eyes and continued her steps, concentrating. Continuing in the spiral, hands signing sacred symbols, reaching out for a doorway. She kept this up for some time, heating up, sweat beading her brow. Old Daka’s joints ached with the effort. The beads of sweat ran down her face, neck, now dripping. Her voice resonates, calling out past her little existence on this planet. Dancing, spiraling, hands gesturing, a transcendent exploration. 

“What do you seek, Grandmother?” The ancient voice boomed in her ears. 

Daka opened her eyes. The Bendu stood tall, dwarfing her. 

“I request assistance in the fall of Darth Sidious. The time is close to arrival. One chance to set the galaxy free of his dark reign. I cannot do it alone. If not acted upon days from now, the opportunity will be lost in Transit.” 

“The Bendu cannot interfere directly with connecting realities of The World Between Worlds. I can, however, speak the names of those who MAY help you on your journey. There is no guarantee they will help. I give this information freely and it’s use rests solely upon your shoulders.” 

“I am eternally grateful to you Guardian of Worlds” Daka bowed down to the Bendu. Her joints popped and crackled in the process. 

************************************************************************

"The Dream Song" by Ministry: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aaM-j7pzWsg&list=PLTsJd3M7E5ycaENNZcno0g45BCxUk98Zv&index=32

The Havoc Marauder was dark and quiet, save for Wrecker’s snoring and the occasional stirring of Tech working on a project through the night. Everyone else had fallen asleep, except for Hunter. An overstimulation migraine kept him up. He was hoping for the strong pain meds and hot shower to finally award him some shut eye. Hunter emerged from the refresher, nodded goodnight to Tech, who nodded back and settled into his bunk.  

With a deep sigh, Hunter closed his eyes and slowly relaxed. He blissfully started to fall into a deep sleep, settling into the blankets. His cocooned body warmed up comfortably. The sounds of Wrecker and Tech faded away to a weighted silence.  

“KEEN MAN!” 

Hunter bolted upright from his covers and looked around. He was no longer on the Marauder. An inky blackness with billions of stars surrounded his bunk. A wizened old woman sat at the foot of it. She looked as though she was lit by moonlight. 

“Maker!” Hunter thought. “Switching my pain medication. This is so vivid!!!” 

The old woman cackled “I’m real. Real as moonbeams and rainbows, and the wind you cannot see.” 

Hunter looked skeptical. But he couldn’t deny the strange thrumming vibrations running through his body. 

“Hm...The Songs of the stars, planets, quasars, pulsars. The Fingerprints of the Universe. You feel them, Yes?” 

“Who are you??? A Force Ghost?” 

“The blessed few with a live body. I traversed the galaxy to speak with you. I am Old Daka.” 

“Why me?” 

“You were the only one of your brothers who would answer. I called out to Rex, Cody, Gregor, Wolffe, and those on the Marauder. Not one heard me. Omega, however, did. She and I spoke earlier.” 

“Omega? About what???” Hunter was worried that this being had unrestricted access to Omega...if what she said was true. 

“The Force is providing a narrow window of success in the defeat of Darth Sidious. A man you might know better by the name of Emperor Palpatine. The window will close and not open again for many years...until the son of Sidious’ main henchman is of age. By that time Sidious will be much stronger. The bloodshed in his wake will be more momentous. I refuse to wait and watch the waste of lives and resources. Refuse to watch the utter misery. I need your help.” 

“Asking again...why me?" 

“Because the Force chose you...and Omega. You both are 'sensitive' and understand a purpose higher than yourselves. If Echo were more man than machine, he would have heard The Call of The Force as well.” 

Hunter was aghast. This was bigger and more dangerous than trying to escape the destruction of Kamino or dodge bounty hunters. Their family could be ripped apart, or worse yet they all could die. 

“What’s in it for us?” 

“A galaxy without the fear of living. It is not enough to merely survive. Existence is meant for higher goals.” 

“Why should we trust you???” 

“Good question, Keen Man. But I wager my bargain is much better than the ones Cid springs on you. Or your brother working for the Empire offered.” 

Hunter winced at the mention of Crosshair.  

“Darthomir witch!” Hunter rumbled. 

“Yes. Not much different than a powerful Jedi, and yet you trusted them implicitly. The Jedi are gone for now. Not many allies left. Why not trust me?” 

Hunter sat in silence then replied. “What happens if we refuse to participate?” 

Old Daka brought her outstretched hand up in Hunter’s direction. She closed her eyes in concentration. “Let me show you the cost of Order 66.” Immediately vivid images filled Hunter’s head: The slaughter of the Younglings and all the Jedi, the duel between Kenobi and Anakin, the birth of Darth Vader, the death of Padme Amadala, the loss of the Republic Senate, the transfer of power to Palpatine, the final transition to Dark Sidious, the battle and death of the clones on Starship Tribunal. 

“Now...let me show you the future of The Empire.” More images: Fascist law across the galaxy, The Empire conscripting literal children into their growing army, then enslaving and killing thousands who refused to join them, The Death Star, the destruction of Alderaan...and so much more. Eventually the images faded, leaving a deep black void. 

Hunter held his head. His heart hurt mightily. 

“You have a day to think upon it and share this information with your siblings. I will physically meet you in the Marauder at Ord Mantell and discuss more details.”  

With that she faded away... 

...Hunter started awake bolting upright. Tech had lightly touched his shoulder and was standing by with a cup of caf.  

“I thought you would sleep in all morning. The medication must have been very effective.” He handed Hunter the cup. 

“It’s about time! Omega’s been going on all morning about a dream!!!” Echo groused. 

With that Omega ran into the room and jumped on Hunter’s bunk. “Did you talk to Gran-momma Daka??? She came to see me last night! We have a VERY IMPORTANT mission to go on!!!” 

“Oh KRIFF! It was all REAL!!!” Hunter groaned rubbing his face. 

“What’s real?” Wrecker was standing in the doorway. 

“Lads...and young lady...” Hunter trailed off. How to even being to explain it all??? “Have a HUGE mission ahead of us...if we choose to take it. We need to sit down and seriously discuss it today.” 

Everyone looked around at each other quizzically. 

“Just let me just have my cup of caf first.” Hunter sighed. 

Chapter 2 :

https://www.tumblr.com/skellymom/731405312676003840/the-bad-batch-mini-series-halloween-fan-fic?source=share

In this next installment, the Batch has some SERIOUS decisions to make!!!

PLEASE like, comment, and/or REBLOG!

@marymunchkiin @starqueensthings @talesfrommedinastation @giganonyx @genericficerblog @zoeykallus @random-chaotic-bitch @fionajames @wild-karrde @ex0genmultifandom @mistress-of-the-empirestress @cloneloverrrrr @gonky-kong @arcsimper5 @wings-and-beskar @freesia-writes @lucifidious @janellestudies @mandos-mind-trick-main @amorfista @purgetrooper77 @lizartgurl @echo-lover @notavalidusername @scarelitt @spacemagicandlaserswords @phantom-of-the-keurig @the-hexfiles @tink1221 @thecoffeelorian

#star wars #the bad batch #tbb #bad batch #clone force 99 #hunter #tech #echo #wrecker #omega #tbb hunter #tbb tech #tbb echo #tbb omega #tbb wrecker #old daka #dathomir witch #halloween #spooky #spooky season #tbb fan fic #tbb fanfic #tbb fanfiction #the bad batch fanfiction #skellymom

[isagrimorie]

I really love House of R's breakdown of the Ahsoka show. Listening to the breakdown I like their point that maybe the reason for the gap in knowledge about Ahsoka and Sabine's relationship is that this is a mystery that both old fans and new watchers would see together.

I do think we will get flashbacks to the moments of Ahsoka first taking on Sabine as an apprentice to the end why she walked away from Sabine.

Another thing I realized about the table setting in the first two episodes is that they're setting up that Ahsoka show might be set more in the unknown regions outside of their current galaxy.

I actually like that we're getting more into different lore for Ahsoka, more alien, more mystic and that by going to the Unknown Regions we might get to avoid the oft criticism about 'always returning to Tatooine'.

But most of all, I love that we might be exploring different kinds of Force Users, and the show might end up touching on an ancient society that predates both the Night Sisters and the Jedi/Sith.

But also speaking of Lore, I love how Baylon Skoll and Shin Hati were named after the two wolves from Norse mythology.

Skoll is the name of the wolf Who follows the shining priest Into the desolate forest, And the other is Hati, Hróðvitnir’s son, Who chases the bright bride of the sky

= the Eddic poem Grímnismál

And that Morgan Elspeth is a confirmed Night Sister. Night Sisters of Dathomir are often called Witches because of how the Night Sisters utilize the Force like magic.

In the Clone Wars, Grevious massacred the Night Sisters.

Ahsoka's had dealings with a Night Sister before -- Asajj Ventress and Darth Maul and Savage Oppres were also from Dathomir.

But also, Shin seems to have some reservations about Morgan after she learns Morgan is a Night Sister.

I also love the sense that Ahsoka is more mystical and science fantasy than the other shows. This show doesn't shy away that it's about space wizards and space knights.

Sometimes I feel current Star Wars (and some fans) are ashamed that Star Wars is basically a show about sword and sorcery but in space.

I also really like that if The Mandalorian is a Space Western, Ahsoka is very much the Space Wizard Samurai and Din's aesthetic (or the Mandos in the Mandalorian) is more like Space Cowboys and Vikings, Sabine represents the Japanese-flavored aesthetic of her part of Mandalore.

But also I love that the lead character is the grumpy samurai master, usually in anime/manga we see stories more from the point of view of the student seeking the master to teach them once again.

Very much borrowing from the influences of Samurai movies. Also, Kanan has done this (in other Western media-- Zuko and Iroh from Avatar and Korra from Legend of Korra).

For both Kanan and Sabine, this signifies commitment -- Sabine has mentioned before that she kept her hair short because it helps her wear her Mandalorian helmet.

Sabine letting her hair grow long meant she has set aside her Mandalorian heritage, she's been in a holding pattern, possibly since the day Mandalore fell (again). It's possibly another reason why Sabine is so reluctant to celebrate.

Yes, she helped save Lothal but what does that matter if she couldn't even save her own homeworld?

Almost every character in this show lost their families, their home worlds, and their people.

I also like how Ahsoka the show is also about the Good guys winning the war, they've all been busy fighting the war that now there's peace what do Ahsoka, a soldier who has been fighting since she was a child, and Sabine, a child who is from a culture that reveres war and warriors, do now?

Hera is the only one with a clear idea of what she wants to do -- and that's to build a better world and tomorrow for her son.

But for Ahsoka and Sabine?

I feel like Ahsoka and Sabine's theme music is Wait for It:

Life doesn't discriminate Between the sinners and the saints It takes and it takes and it takes And we keep living anyway We rise and we fall and we break And we make our mistakes And if there's a reason I'm still alive When so many have died Then I'm willin' to— Wait for it...

#thinky thoughts #ahsoka 1x01 #ahsoka 1x02 #ahsoka tano #sabine wren #baylan skoll #shin hati #morgan elspeth #night sister #ahsoka spoilers #star wars ahsoka #Youtube

[kimageddon]

Sins of the Father 4:4

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Maul x Nightsister OC (Zaiya Valessa) - Modern/Crime AU

Word count: Approx 5000

Contains/Warnings: Blood, injuries, wounds, NSFW at the end - full chapter available on AO3

Chapter Summary: Maul visits his father and then… doesn't know where else to go.

Notes: See the end of the chapter for notes!

Bad Father, Good Son

He was suspicious immediately. Not only had he been able to enter the gates of the mansion, but only one of the security guards had tried to stop him, only to give up halfway through the sentence. That could only mean one thing.

His father knew he was here.

He had wanted to head right away once Zaiya had accused him, but he’d had to do a little digging of his own first, quietly asking questions and receiving answers on his own, without involving his brothers, and especially not Vizsla. This was something he couldn’t share. It had taken several days to gather all the intel… and a further day to gather the spine enough to come back to this wretched place.

He had lived in this house for much of his life, though many of the rooms he still had not seen. Maul had been pushed away from the main rooms, hidden from guests, forbidden to come out when others were present. So there were still places he found himself lost in.

It was luxurious; antiques and ridiculous items decorated the walls and floors. It was made to look like a family-owned mansion, as though he and his Father had lived there for years, along with the ancestors of his family.

Another lie to add to an already numerous pile.

How much of his life was even true? He had almost been driven mad with all the things he’d been supposed to remember. All the falsehoods and half-truths. For so long, he had thought he had escaped it. He lived with his brothers for years, walking his own path.

Or so he thought.

Perhaps that was the biggest lie of all. He’d had nightmares like this, dreaming he was free and clear, only to realise he wasn’t free at all and he felt the claws of his Father’s control on his back. Thinking that he had escaped when in reality his hands and feet were still bound to strings that his Father pulled and manipulated like a master puppeteer. Usually he would wake with a start in a cold sweat. This time he was not waking up.

The greatest trick the devil ever played was convincing the world he did not exist.

He’d heard that somewhere. He didn’t remember where, but God damn it if it didn’t fit the man that lived in this ostentatious but ultimately hollow house.

As much as the house was a maze and he didn’t know all the rooms, he definitely remembered the way to the study. He’d walked this path a thousand times. Usually with a sense of dread only a child can feel. On his way to be punished for whatever slight the old man had decided Maul was guilty of.

This time, rage overwhelmed the sense of dread and fear. He refused to be afraid of this man any longer. The door to the study was closed and Maul didn’t even knock. With a rough jerk of the handle and a shove, the door opened with a loud bang. The crimson Zabrak strode into the office, his golden eyes bazing, as though if he glared hard enough, the old man might just catch fire.

“What a surprise this is,” the soft but clear voice spoke and Maul’s blood ran cold. That voice. How long had it been since he’d heard it? It still prickled the back of his neck. Made his breath catch in his chest. Maul forced himself to swallow his apprehension. He turned to face the man. “I had wondered when you might come to see me, son,” he said with one of those vindictive smiles Maul remembered so well.

Sheev Palpatine sat in a high wingback chair behind a large mahogany desk. He wore a charcoal grey sweater, a glass of some amber liquid sat on his desk next to a few papers and a tablet in his wrinkled. Clearly he was relaxing for the evening, but for some reason he had allowed Maul to enter.

“Are you spying on me?” Maul growled. Palpatine stared him down, those watery blue eyes impassive, maybe slightly amused.

“And why would I do that?” the old man asked, calmly.

“I have never understood why you do half the things you have done,” Maul replied with a barely concealed snarl.

“Therein lies the problem, my son. You do not think, you do not understand.” Maul’s lip curled as his Father’s gaze grew cold.

In truth Maul did understand. His father did this for power. For control. For cruelty, and for fun. He seemed to enjoy seeing Maul suffer. That part Maul didn’t understand. Why did he seem to enjoy tormenting him so? Just another power grab? Why did he seem to hate his own son?

“All I need to understand is you’ve been having people follow me — and this?!” he withdrew a small yellow envelope from within his jacket, still full of cash and flung it, flicking his wrist and the package slapped onto the desk, ruffling the papers for a second. It was only after about three seconds did his eyes finally flick downward to the envelope.

“What about it?”

“You pass this to my people, to give to me — why?!” His teeth grit and he glared down at the old man. A slow and sinister smile began to creep across his wrinkled face.

“Do you really think I would abandon you?” he chuckled, as though it were obvious. The bottom of Maul’s stomach dropped out and he felt sick. It was as though he could feel a layer of dirt on his skin and he wanted nothing more than to tear it from his bones. The look on Palpatine’s face was a mixture of smug and sardonic.

Abandon him?

Maul remembered the frightened little child he once was, the way he cowered and hid from his Father’s punishments at first. Then the way he had shut himself down. The way he made himself stop feeling. He had hardened his heart to it. He had used the pain to make him stronger. Better.

Yet no matter what he did, how he filled his father’s requests to the letter… It was never enough. Nothing was ever good enough. Maul realised with a wrenching feeling in his gut, that his nightmare had indeed come true.

Palpatine had far more than kept tabs on him. If Zaiya could find the trail, then it was likely others could too. If his people found out, there’d be mutiny. If there was some crime committed… Was Maul the patsy? Is that all he had ever been? Palpatine couldn’t afford Maul to start talking, so this was what, insurance.

How stupid could he be?! He knew this man better than anyone and for five ignorant years he thought he was living his own life for once. But it was a lie.

He wasn’t free. He never would be.

“So if anyone ever comes for you, you have a scapegoat to throw at their feet, is that it?” Maul asked in a dark tone. Palpatine just smiled, his arms shifting to lay in his lap as he sat back in his seat.

“Now, now, would I do that to my first born son?” he laughed softly. Maul’s rage swelled in his chest.

“You call me that after what you’ve done?!” he spat, bitterly. “You think I will take anything more from you?!”

“Well, I daresay your own little club might begin to wonder why your profit margins so drastically changed,” Palpatine said calmly. “I would hate for them to… well, misunderstand.” So that was it. His father was trying to ensure Maul didn’t act out against him.

Suddenly the door opened and two large burly fellows in black suits stood in the doorway, another two close behind.

“Escort him out,” Palpatine said tersely. Maul cursed under his breath, his father must have called them when he shifted in his chair. Large hands gripped his shoulders as he attempted to shove them off, telling them he could walk. He did not miss the call from over his shoulder as he left however.

“It was good to see you, son! I shall hope you visit again very soon.”

══════════════════

Knock knock.

Zaiya’s eyes slowly creaked open. What time was it? She groaned softly as she rolled over. 6 AM? No wonder she was so tired. She definitely needed to—

Knock knock.

So she hadn’t imagined it. Dragging herself from her bed, luckily she’d not been working late the night before. In truth, since her last encounter, after Gunray, Grievous, then of course Maul, she’d kept her head down, not wanting to encounter anyone while she quietly collated the information.

If she saw that crimson-skinned bastard again, she thought grimly, it would be too soon. She sighed to herself and glimpse through the peephole. And froze.

“…the fuck?” she hissed under her breath, and without thinking, opened the door. Her mouth opened to spit venom at her visitor when again she was shocked into silence.

It was Maul.

More than that, he stood in the doorway, eyes averted and seeming unfocused. His shirt was torn, his jacket gone, knuckles and face covered in blood and swollen. His shoes were scuffed and he was dirty all over.

“I—I didn’t… I didn’t know where else to go…” he said hoarsely. Zaiya stared at him.

She should tell him no. She should tell him to leave. Tell him she didn’t want to see him. That whatever this was, wasn’t her problem.

She opened the door wider and stepped back to allow entrance.

Damn it. What was she doing?!

He entered and without a word, she cleared a space for him on the little two seater couch in the living room section. He sort of slumped in the chair, looking exhausted, and didn’t move again until she returned with a cup of tea. She handed him the cup, and he took a sip immediately, wincing slightly, and she saw the cut on his lip.

“What happened?” she asked softly, sitting beside him, she laid the little first aid kit on the table, opening it carefully. There was a long silence as he placed his cup down beside it.

“I went to see my father.”

Zaiya felt her stomach tighten and she resisted the urge to say something spiteful. She would let him talk. She reached out to take his hand, and he offered no resistance.

“I looked into what you said,” Maul continued, he looked like he was in pain from far more than his injuries. She began to tend to the cuts on his knuckles carefully. He didn’t seem to need stitches for any of these, thankfully. Not that she cared of course.

“You were right, he was having me followed. For all these years I thought I’d finally escaped him and— it was just a joke to him.” He heaved out a breath and Zaiya’s gaze flicked up to his face. He really looked like hell. From the look of it, he definitely needed a shower, but she didn’t want to interrupt him. So she decided to just ensure his wounds weren’t infected at least.

“He admitted it… like he was concerned about me—!” Maul spat, looking disgusted. Even Zaiya made a face. “All these years, I thought I was finally free of him. I thought he was out of my life… I was in the same city, yes, but I was living my own life— far from everything he represented.” Maul looked away, “I was wrong,” he said sourly. “After he gave his little taunt, he had his people escort me out.”

“I take it they were less than hospitable,” Zaiya said softly, gesturing to the state of him. Maul grimaced.

“They were not.” He paused and let out a deep sigh and glanced up at her. “I should go… after the last time I… I behaved disgustingly.”

“Yes you did,” she said flatly. “Yet you came here anyway.” She tilted her head slightly, “why?”

“I… don’t know,” he admitted, that strained look still on his face. “I managed to fight those fools back enough to get to my bike and I just drove… next thing I know… I was here.”

Zaiya searched his face. He looked genuine… and miserable. She lowered her gaze to his hands again, wondering why she wasn’t telling him to leave.

“You need a shower,” she said finally, “come on.” She moved to stand, gently taking his hands in both of hers. He stood easily but looked a little confused.

“You should be telling me to go.”

“Yes I should,” she admitted.

“I probably wouldn’t do the same for you,” he admitted with a grim expression.

“I doubt that you would,” she confirmed.

“Then… why?” he asked, bewildered. Zaiya took a deep breath, and looked down at his bloody hands.

“Most children only have monsters in their nightmares, and when they wake, all is well. People like you and I… the dreams are far more pleasant than reality,” she said quietly. “Even the bad ones.” There was a silence that passed between them. After a moment his hand squeezed hers. She glanced up, seeing understanding in his golden eyes.

There were no words for a while, and she led him to the bathroom where he could shower and get cleaned up, she would have to tend to his wounds when he had washed the dirt from them. While he was in there, she went to her closet and retrieved a set of men’s clothes, folded up in the back as well as a spare towel. She knocked on the door softly, opening it to bring them to him, and stopped as she saw him. He was stripped to the waist, and while he was indeed impressive to look at, her gaze softened to see the bruises starting to form on his ribs.

“I’ve got something to help with that when you’re done,” she told him quietly. He looked at the pile of fabric with a questioning expression.

“You have men’s clothes?” he asked.

“They’re my boyfriend’s,” she replied in a deadpan manner. She expected a roll of his eyes or some smart comment. What she wasn’t expecting was the sudden stricken expression that passed over his face for a brief moment.

“I see,” he said, his voice becoming hard. Zaiya blinked in surprise.

“I’m kidding,” she clarified with a slight frown. “I have them in case I need to disguise myself, or my work associates need to lay low.”

“Work associates…?” he frowned again.

“The… the guy. The one Saxon saw me with. He’s helping me, and my mentor told me to always be prepared,” she shrugged, her gaze trailing away. “It’s not like I have time for a social life these days anyway.” She caught herself and shook her head. “So, get yourself cleaned up and we can get those wounds dressed. You need to avoid infection.” She suddenly felt a little flustered under his intense gaze and pushed the clothes and towel into his hands, retreating from the bathroom again.

It was another fifteen or so minutes before he returned, giving her time to tidy up her files and make some toast. He’d probably be hungry after being awake all night. The door opened slowly, and it was strange to see Maul in a t-shirt and sweatpants, but he had to be more comfortable in this than his ruined suit. She offered him a place of freshly made toast, but took it back when he reached out with his hand.

“Hang on…” she said, and gestured for him to follow, taking her place on the couch again, putting the plates on the coffee table. Maul sat beside her again, and now that he was clean, she began to disinfect and cover his wounds. His eyes watched her as intensely as he had the first time.

“Why are you investigating my father?” he asked finally. “Who hired you?”

She’d known this was coming.

“My client wishes to remain anonymous,” she began, “but what I can tell you, even though I shouldn’t… is that I am here to expose him. To unearth every dirty secret and bring the dossier to someone that can do something about it.”

“You think there is someone that can do something about it?” Maul scoffed. “If you have been investigating him for as long as you have been here, you know how powerful he is…!”

“I do, which is why I have been working with people that can hopefully point me in the right direction.” She looked up at him again for a moment. “I have some allies, and we have a lot of dirt, but we need more. So far, he’s pinned quite a lot on you.”

“You don’t think I did it? That I am not working for him?”

“I did… but I don’t think that anymore,” she admitted.

“What changed your mind?” he asked cautiously. Zaiya finished with one hand and took up the other, looking into his eyes as she spoke this time.

“You did,” she said simply. “Of course this could all be an elaborate ploy. I wouldn’t put it past him…” she said bitterly, but then her expression softened. “Though I am confident that you are being truthful.” She wrapped his hand up, and gestured to his torso.

“That’s unnecessary,” he muttered and tried to wave her off as he reached for the toast. She seemed to have been correct about his hunger.

“You’re bruised and it’s going to swell, let me put an icepack on it… or should I just call an ambulance?” she threatened firmly, glowering at him. Maul raised a brow and looked at her for a few seconds. After a lengthy pause, he sighed, and gave in, lifting his shirt again while she reached for the ice-pack and wrapped it in a protective layer so it would not freeze his skin. She paused as she turned back, and had to force herself not to follow the contours and curves of the tattoos, and his body. It was hardly the time.

“You speak of my father like you know him,” Maul said quietly, as he held part of the bandage in place as she wound the other end around his ribcage. He was broad enough that he had to lean in, nearly hugging him as she wrapped the bandages firmly but not too tightly around him.

“I know some of what he’s done,” she said evasively. “I have seen the things he’s done here.” She avoided his eyes again, but he didn’t press.

She could feel his gaze on her as she tended the rest of his wounds, feeling her skin prickle and tension rising within her. She should send him back, or call his brothers… or do… something. Something to get him out of there, so he would leave.

“There, that should—” she looked up as she finished the last of the bandages, and the words died in her throat. Maul was looking at her with such an intense expression, that her breath caught in her throat. He looked to her eyes, then to her lips, and back again.

She shouldn’t…

He leaned in, and one of his bandaged hands caressed her cheek.

This wasn’t a good idea.

He drifted closer, lips parting…

She mustn’t let this happen.

Zaiya closed the distance and pressed her lips to Maul’s. At the acceptance of his affections, he leaned in further, snaking his hands around her, to pull her closer via her hips. The kiss became more intense, and she could feel a roughness, where his lip was split, and taste blood.

She pulled back slightly.

“You need rest,” she said quietly, though Maul, it seemed, didn’t want to stop kissing her.

“I need you,” he breathed a hair’s breadth away from her own lips. There was a deep melancholy in his eyes, a pain that she understood well. He didn’t want to be alone, and she was sure saying even those three words was hard for him. It was unspoken, but from the way he gripped her, he meant it. Her body relaxed in his grasp and he surged forward, kissing her deeply.

The hesitance in her mind faded away as she began to relax. Her plush form moulded against his as he pulled her even closer. This time her hands slid up over his shoulders and very gently caressed the back of his head between his horns. He let out a sigh against her mouth and gripped her hip tighter.

The rest of this chapter is NSFW - if you wish to continue please check out the full chapter on AO3

Notes: Hello friends!

Well… that break was far more extended than I anticipated! A few weeks became like 5 months. Yikes.

So in the time since I have seen you last, I was nearly made homeless, moved house, fell into a rut and creative depression and I am clawing my way back in an effort to finish this story by the end of the year. Sins is becoming my focus for the time being, though I do still have the desires to continue A Prince of Dathomir and with Ahsoka coming out - ohohoho do I have ideas for that series!

In the meantime, I will be mostly focusing on Sins for the time being, hopefully I am able to get it done sooner rather than later. I still have 2 chapters of Sins to write and to get about 30k words by the end of the year? Idk if I can make it with my current life being what it is, but we shall see!

So, I'll do my best to post some more Sins next fortnight!

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Tags: (If your name is crossed out then check your settings or username -- Tumblr is not letting me tag you!) @alwayssnivellus @the-chains-are-the-easy-part @ashotofspotchka @justalittletomato @nahoney22 @eloquentmoon @stardustbee @lune-de-miel-au-paradis @nobody-expects-the-inquisitorius @rain-on-kamino @bacarasbabe @lifeless-being @lazarithebellydancingmime

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#star wars #darth maul #sins of the father #nightsister oc #modern au #crime au

[mayxthexforce]

In Plain Sight || Kycina & Mace

Starter for @historiavn

There was a stranger on Dathomir.

A malfunctioning ship had crashed somewhere in the vast territory taken over by the swamp. Kycina hadn't seen it happen, but she didn't need to see it to know exactly where the ship had crash-landed, and exactly why it had happened. The wind carried the voices of the Sisters lost to time and hardship and they whispered about the whole ordeal to anyone who would listen.

There's a man-thing in the swamps, their voices echoed the deeper Kycina ventured in this lands.

She moved swiftly, avoiding the fumes of the swamp for the sake of the two children she carried with her on her back. Maul and Savage, while very young– too young to fend for themselves, often accompanied her on her trips outside of the safety of their home, but she'd never taken them this far from the small area she'd invested sweat, tears, magick and blood into securing for them.

There was something driving her, guiding every step she took. A pull that felt ancient– even more ancient than the ruins she'd lived in her whole life, somehow even more ancient than the dark energy that made Dathomir as it was. A pull she couldn't resist, no matter how much her logical mind told her that it wasn't safe to approach a stranger, or that bringing her children this far away from home could endanger them. For every thought of concern for herself or her children's safety, there was another small voice telling her that they would be okay, that there was no danger. She didn't quite believe that voice, but she was granting it the benefit of the doubt, mostly because she was far too curious about what might be the cause of it, and something told her she would get the answer she sought if she kept moving forward.

Despite their young age, both Maul and Savage knew to be quiet when their mother was on the prowl. They associated her 'hunting' stance with food, and they knew that there would be no food if they scared it away. Their small hands clung to her shoulders and biceps, the weight of them shifting from the makeshift sling to fully onto her back as Kycina leaned forward into a crouched position.

There was the outsider. A man-thing indeed, looking as out of place as a fish in the desert. His clothing gave him away: a Jedi. Kycina had only ever heard of them from her mother, and nothing Talzin had to say about the Jedi and their cult of the light made her want to get any closer. So she watched him as he assessedthe sustained by his ship, his back turned to the wilderness– his first and perhaps last mistake.

A pale blue creature emerged from the bushes, moving silently on eight legs with four eyes that focused on its target, its mandibles twitching in preparation as it advanced to get in position. Bane back spiders were sneaky creatures who knew their way around the Dathomirian landscapes and, like many of the beings that inhabited the planet, they also knew their way around the force. A feral adult bane back could be deadly even to the most seasoned hunter, and certainly it could be deadly to a stranger, too.

She should let it attack the stranger, it would serve him as a lesson about how he should never offer such an easy opening to any possible attack. But as soon as she watched the spider's body lower to the ground and its mandibles drip with its acidic saliva, her body began to move. Her sons were startled by how quickly she raised and aimed her bow, which prompted them to make noise and alerted the stranger and the eight-legged beast. Before it could rush to attack, Kycina's arrow pierced right through it, pinning it to a tree. Watching its abdomen implode from the accumulated acid was a disgusting sight, even more disgusting when the smell of the acid reached her nostrils. But her attention didn't remain on the now dead arachnid for long, seized once again but the stranger.

Only she could be foolish enough to save a JEDI .

#may the queue be with you #||in character: kycina|| #& mace windu #historiavn #||rp: in plain sight|| #||verse: daughter of dathomir; kycina||

[o-wise-corvid]

Thanks for the tag @i-will-bite! This oughtta be fun.

1. Favorite OC

Oh boy. That is so dang hard. I’m probably going to go with Orin. She started as a self-insert but her story has really just ballooned into such a lovely, juicy tragedy that I can’t even describe. Orin is really the kind of person we all aspire to be. Loving, courageous, warm. She’s very invested in family, even moreso since her retirement as General of the Clones Rights Coalition. The sense of dread hanging over her is something so special to write. To describe nameless fear. It really pushes me.

2. Newest OC

Uhhh weeeeeeell… probably the Iktochi I’m planning. I don’t really have a place for her. But I like the idea of foreknowing, that subtle sense of heightened awareness that their species has. Also the idea for an Iktochi came from Darth Cognis, from the Bane books.

3. Oldest OC

This one’s easy. S’Lus Galenn, my Ishi Tib medical sage on Naboo. He’s a sweet old feller that I HC sounds like Shadow from Homeward Bound. He’s not actually an Ishi Tib, but a being wearing the form of one. He’s part of a cosmic race known as The Born. Beings of pure Force energy who existed before the galaxy formed. He’s very caring and concerned with helping those less fortunate around Naboo, those living in the slums hidden by all the grand architecture and waterfalls.

4. Meanest OC

Ithsa Dooku. What a jerkface. What a Kevin. What a waste of good genetics. Ithsa is the offspring of Komari Vossa and Darth Maul. Don’t worry they’re not a couple; Vossa basically agreed to allow Maul to complete a mission unhindered by trading leaving him be for having sex with her. (Listen to Lockdown, that woman’s slavering after him.) Maul agreed, the act being completely meaningless and truthfully abhorrent to him. Later in life, he’ll see it as SA. The son fathered in that moment is not his son. Regardless of how similarly they look and even act. Ithsa resents his father’s opinion of him and really comes to hate Maul’s chosen child, whom he adores almost to a fault: Happenstance. Boy’s got MAJOR attitude issues.

5. Softest OC

Vagren Dragos. Him just a lil man. Just itty. He’s a very small, very impressionable little Zabrak babby, the Padawan of @crc-jedi-knight-serushna’s Serushna Leliana. To be only like. 6. He’s strong enough to have earned his tattoos before having to leave Dathomir. As a force-sensitive male, he’d have been killed had Nightsisters gotten hold of him. His leaving was better off for him and his village ultimately but in no way easy. He’s gotten his kyber crystal though and he’s learning How To Jedi very quickly. Though… he’s starting to see that not all Jedi are as wonderful as his Master and Grandmaster. And that’s a shame.

6. Aloof/Standoffish OC

That’ll be my Clone OC Fitz, CT-52622. He’s been dishonorably discharged from the GAR but the Jedi who he serves beside as Special Consultant was a Padawan during the war. Rae Dagani lost her Master on Geonosis and Fitz refused to go fight in the battle while she and her sister-Padawan held their Master’s body and wept, undefended and alone. He stayed with them against orders and was punished for insubordination. But they repaid the favor and he works with them as a freelancer and adopted member of Kitchen Sink Squad now. He’s very restrained except with his baby girl, Rae. He’s her safe hiding place and he can let down his walls with her.

7. Dumbest OC

HA. Ummmm. Hm. I think that might be a BD unit OC I’m planning. Just a ditzy little thing that would exasperate BD-1 half to death.

8. Smartest OC

That’s probably Ee’an, another of the Kitchen Sink Squad I co-own with @hotshot9. Those fellas are based on favorite characters of ours from books and movies and he’s based on Ian Malcolm from Jurassic Park. He’s all about philosophy and science, and he’ll debate you until he’s blue in the face. He’s got a massive flitterfly tattoo on his throat, wears his hair long to his shoulders, and favors leather jackets now that he’s out of armor mostly anymore. You’ll also find a trail of varactyl tracks winding up one leg and arm along an old scar he got riding one of them.

9. Besties IRL OC

Probably either Orin or Thess Sha. Thess owns a coffee shop on Naboo and breeds blarths. She’s very friendly and loves making people’s lives easier with good food and good drinks. (And free tshirts!)

Hmmmm….

@thesitharts @crc-jedi-knight-serushna @smoooothbrain @alexeithegoat @sweetiepie08 @stardustbee @eloquentmoon @eliduremaybe and anybody else who wants to join in!

#general’s log #oc stuff

[forever-rogue]

Step Into The Daylight - Part 11

Summary: Cal Kestis offers some more insight into who your mysterious son is. 

A/N: Thank you guys for being so, so patient and still being excited for me to update. I feel like my Din muse has returned and I hope you enjoy! Taglists are open, and as always feedback is welcome! xx

Pairing: Din Djarin x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 5.6k

Warnings: spoilers for up to s2, e5

SERIES MASTERLIST

MANDALORIAN MASTERLIST

MAIN MASTERLIST

»»————-　♡　————-««

"Oh," your heart fell as you looked down at the little one sitting on the floor and cooing happily. He looked between the between you and Din before turning his gaze back to Cal, and the figures behind "is there...do you know anything about him? I don't know how...I'm still learning how to properly wield the force and I can't..."

"Yes," he said  as he gently held out his hand to the little. You felt Din tense slightly at your side and gently put your hand on top of his, giving him a gentle squeeze, "come here, little one."

The child slowly clambered up, grabbing one of Cal's fingers and letting the Jedi pick him up. He cooed quietly as a wave of emotions splashed over Cal's face. You wondered if this was hard for him, if it reminded him of the mysterious Master Yoda, if it reminded him of the days before he, like so many others, lost everything. 

"We'll go," you offered quietly as you motioned for Din and the others to follow you, along with Jeele. Din stiffened at first but didn't question your judgment and then followed after you. 

You settled back down in the kitchen, the six of silent as you let a long huff of air.

“Where are my manners,” you shifted next to Din and studied each of the new figures in turn. There was another woman, older in appearance with warm, dark skin and a kind face, a younger woman covered in tattoo-like markings and white blonde hair, as well as a smaller figure that you recognized as a Latero. You offered them your name before turning to your Mandalorian, “this is Mando and I believe you’ve met Jeele already.”

“Cere Junda,” the older woman stuck out her hand and gave you and a firm handshake, “this is Merrin and Greeze. We work with Cal; you just be the mysterious Jedi.”

“I don’t think I’ll ever qualify to have that title,” you admitted, “not since the order is all but gone. But...you are. I can feel it - the force is strong with you.”

“It once was,” she confessed as a tight smile crossed her features, “but I no longer use it. Much as happened since the fall of the Order, and much of it I’d like to forget. The pull to the dark is too strong sometimes...I’m sure you must have felt it.”

You tensed as her words washed over and Din’s gaze shifted to you. You swallowed thickly as you realized that she was right; what you’d felt, especially in the crystal cave was strong, that call to chaos and violence, the pull to the dark. But you were strong enough to resist it then and you hoped to continue to be, “y-yes...I’ve felt it before.”

“It will get easier over time,” she promised, almost as if she could hear you fears and worries, but then again, you supposed she probably could, “Merrin is a Night Sister. You probably feel the energy from her too.”

“A Night Sister,” you said as the younger woman offered you a small smile, “from Dathomir? You use Magick, don’t you?”

“I do,” she agreed, “you are well versed in your histories aren’t you?” 

“I had a lot of time when I was studying by myself, I tried to learn a little about a lot, but I would not consider myself an expert by any means. Your people have been through much.”

“As have yours,” she reached across the table and gave your hand a gentle squeeze, “we’re survivors, we make due with what we have, and stick together.”

“Together is the only way we survive,” you agreed before you turned your attention to the last of Cal’s crew, “it’s nice to meet you too. Greeze?”

“At your service,” he sounded entirely neutral as he looked over the two of you, eyes lingering on the Mandalorian, “don’t see many of you anymore. What are you doing with a little Jedi? I thought Jedi were the enemies of the Mandalore?”

“It’s a long story,” you begin, thinking about the day you’d met your mysterious Mandalorian, sure that it was going to be the last day of your life. Little did you know that it would be the beginning of your entirely knew life, one will with more adventure, and love, than ever before. You turned to Din and offered him a small smile, sure that he was giving you the same one in return, “but to make it short, I had a bounty on my head, and he ended up saving me both from my injuries and capture, and the rest is history really.”

“Oh jeeze, another love story,” Greeze sighed jokingly as your cheeks turned warm, causing you to pointedly keep your gaze away from Din, although both of you now knew that’s exactly what it was, but so much more than that, “what is it with Jedi and forming attachments, I thought that wasn’t allowed.”

“It wasn’t,” Cere said sharply, “which is one of the many reasons the Jedi Order fell. I never quite did understand that part, I do...but it never made sense.”

“Good thing I’m not a Jedi then,” you said softly as the whole table laughed, “because I would have been doomed a long time ago.”

Din’s hand was on your thigh and gave it a gentle squeeze as he watched you closely, a rush of emotions coursing through his blood.

“Listen, Cal told us about your crystal. Which means it’s time construct your own lightsaber,” Cere explained as you sat up with excitement. You’d been through hell and back to get that crystal and you were going to build that saber no matter what, “we have materials for the hilt back on our ship, we’ll get it all out for you. When you’re ready, come find us and then you can build.”

“Thank you,” your breath caught in your throat as you stared at table and let out a long breath. 

“It’s a big step, and a right of passage,” Cere acknowledged, “take your time and find us once you’re sure.”

“I will,” you promised. The three of them stood up and started to head back to their own ship, with Jeele giving you a small nod and following them. It must have been a comfort to her as well to have other people who had experienced the same things around. They knew all the same heartbreak and loss. 

Once when they were gone and silence fell over the two of you again, you let out a long sigh, just as Din did the same.

"You don't think-"

"No," you promised, "I don't think Cal is going to do anything. We can trust him, I can sense it."

"Do you think we'll get answers...something? Maybe he can help train him," he started babbling as you reached up and put your hand on the cowl at his neck giving him a gentle, reassuring squeeze, "I don't know if...I’m not...”

"I know," you replied softly as you understood exactly what he was trying to say, "you know what we have to do. Whatever happens, we'll get through it. We're a family, Din and nothing is going to change that. You don't have to do this alone...I will be here with you every step of the way."

He remained silent for a few moments, and you could hear a few heavy, long exhales come through the vocoder of his helmet. You remained silent but put your head on his shoulder, watching as he put a hand on your thigh. You put your hand on top of his and he silently laced your fingers together.

In all honesty, you weren't prepared for what might be coming. You'd been waiting and looking for more information about the mysterious small child, your son, but now that you might be getting some answers it all felt...gut wrenching. You wanted to know more about him and how to help him for his sake as much as yours and Din's. But at the end of it all, his was Din's son, and yours. Parting with him... it would be...almost impossible, but if it was what needed to happen, then you would do it. You were sure it wouldn't be forever, something in your heart told you that at the end of the day, your family would always be together.

The silence was tense at first, stiff as you both tried to come to terms with things that might soon be happening. But it soon shifted into something much more bearable and comfortable. One of the many things that you loved about your ever blossoming relationship with the Mandalorian was how the two of you could easily read each other. You rested your head on his shoulder as his hand was firmly on your thigh.

"Din?"

"Yes, Mesh'la?" his voice was tired, bells, he was tired and exhausted but he kept going; because of you and your son.

"We're going to be okay," you promised him again, feeling the need to reassure both of you again, "just like I had to leave the two of you for a while, this might be the same. But look, we're back together. The force...it works how its supposed and I know we're going to be together always. I saw it..."

"A Mandalorian and a Jedi," he huffed lightly, "they would never have seen it coming."

"Times change as do all things," you agreed, "but we are neither. I'm just me and you're just you. Aliit."

"Aliit," he agreed. You could see him leaning ever so slightly towards the door as you laughed lightly, "do you think..."

"Let's go and check," you stood up and offered him your hand, which he took without hesitation. The two of you slowly padded down the hallway, remaining silent as you walked back into the hull.

You weren't sure what you were expecting, but it certainly wasn't the sight that met your eyes. On the floor, almost as unchanged as when you'd first, were Cal and your son, intently staring at each other. Din looked between the two of them before turning to you.

"They're communicating," you whispered softly, "they can understand each other's thoughts...its a skill you learn and improve over time...I'm afraid I'm not quite there yet."

"Thoughts," Din repeated as you nodded slowly. Almost as if on cue, Cal broke his gaze with the little one and turned to you.

"He wants me to tell you something," Cal as you approached the duo and sat down on the floor next to them with Din following suit. The little one turned me looked at both of excitedly, "his name. His name is Grogu."

“Grogu,” the name, gentle and soft, completely unexpected and yet perfectly fitting, caught in your throat. The tears that welled up in your eyes were immediate as you looked at the same green creature on the floor. After all this time, you finally knew his name. Grogu. He turned to, a little smile on his face as his ears perked up in excitement, “hi, my love.”

“Grogu,” Din repeated and the little one’s response was enough to make your heart melt. He cooed happily, nothing but happy little noises as he clambered to his feet and headed straight for Din. He stopped in front of his legs, holding his little arms up as he waiting for Din to pick him up. He hesitated for just a moment and you were positive you heard a small sniffle from under the helmet as DIn gently scooped him up in his arms before holding him tightly to his chest. It was silent for a moment as the two embraced each other before pulling apart as Din pressed the his helmet tenderly against his forehead, “Grogu.”

“Cal,” you reached over and back the child, no, Grogu’s back and gently rubbed it in a sign of reassurance, “can you tell us anything more about him?”

“I was able to get some more out of him,” he confessed, “but there’s a lot of...holes, dark spots, in his memory. Parts of his memory are almost blank; he spent a lot of time in hiding, in fear...he was alone and scared for a long time. He hid his powers, lost touch with them for years in order to survive. His ability to adapt and blend in led to his survival.”

“But he’s used them recently,” you raised an eyebrow as Grogu made a small sound.

“He feels safe,” Cal explained as Grogu appeared to nod, “he feels protected when he’s with both of you.”

“H-he does?” Din’s voice cracked as Grogu held onto one of his gloved fingers, “I’ve always wondered...”

“Yes,” Cal promised with a gentle smile of his own, “he’s formed a strong attachment to you, both of you. He thinks of you as parents.”

“We think of him as ours,” Din’s free arm found its way around your waist as you nodded, trying to take in and adsorb everything. That mean he understand you both, he knew just how much you loved him and how much you both cared. 

“Where was he before? Before he was found?” Cal’s face fell slightly at your question, an almost upset expression crossing his features, “Cal?”

“At the Jedi Temple on Coruscant,” he explained. Where your brother hand been. Where Cal had been. Before they lost everything, “he had several teachers over the years, but during the purge he was smuggled out and put into hiding. He was lucky...like me. We survived unlike so many of our brothers and sisters.”

“You both went through so much, Cal, but you survived, that’s the important part,” your voice was gentle as the ginger haired man closed his eyes and let out a long breath. You had no doubt that the memories still plagued him often; survivor’s guilt. You all had in one form or another, “but who saved him? Why just him? Not that I don’t love him, but what’s so special about him?”

“I don’t know,” Cal shook his head in defeat as he looked at Grogu with a sad little half smile, “he doesn’t remember...or he’s blocked it out.”

“Another piece we still need to figure out,” while you felt slightly defeated, you were happy in turn. You knew a little bit more about him and his origins, and if nothing else, you had a name and you knew that he loved you both as much as you loved him.

“The most important question is - what does the Empire want with him?” Din kept his voice down, although the frustration was evident as he held Grogu close to his chest. All the excitement of what had been going on had slowly worn him down and he was started to loose the fight against slumber, “there was a scientist, he was trying to do something to him, but I took him back before they could do anything further.”

“The Empire doesn’t exist anymore,” you reminded Din as the men sighed deeply in unison; if it wasn’t for the severity of the situation, you would have laughed. 

“The Empire still exists, it always has,” Cal offered as Din nodded, “under different names in different forms. Evil is always out there, and there’s been...stirrings about.”

“Of what?!”

“A new order,” Cal confessed quietly as you grimaced. None of that sounded good in the slightest, “but that’s just among many other things going on.”

“I...we’ve been tasked to bring him back to his people,” Din said as a look of realization crossed his features, “whether’s that his native people or the Jedi we don’t know.”

“There’s not many Jedi left,” Cal stated the obvious as you nodded, “especially not fulled trained Jedi like Jeele or Cere.”

“What about you, Cal?” you asked, knowing that Din was reluctant to do so. It would be hard on you both, but you knew what you had to do, “can you train him?”

“No,” he shook his head as you and exchanged a look of surprise with your Mandalorian, “his attachment to the two of you...it’s very strong. Emotional bonds by Jedi are forbidden for a reason-”

“Surely you can’t believe that.”

“We’ve all seen what an emotional attachment can lead to...it can lead to great things, but horrible, terrible ones as well,” he closed his eyes as his shoulders slumped forward, “Darth Vader was once a Jedi by the name of Anakin Skywalker. He was one of the most powerful Jedi of all time and yet we all know what happened with Darth Vader.”

You breath hitched in your throat as you thought back to all the horrors and atrocities that had plagued not just your childhood, but Din’s as well, and those of countless others, “what do we do then? How do we...”

“I don’t know,” he let his words linger in the air as he slowly leaned over and gently stroked Grogu’s soft ears. The little one was curled up in Din’s arms, the tiniest snores emanating from his mouth, “but I can’t take...I don’t want to set him down the wrong path.”

“Where do we go from here?” your question hung in the air as you exchanged a worried looked with Din. Part of your heart was elated that this meant you wouldn’t have to part ways with him just yet, but confused hung over in clouds as well. Despite all this time and effort, you were still no closer to figuring how the overarching mystery of it all, “if you won’t train him...”

“There is another place...Tython,” he perked up suddenly, “there’s a Jedi Temple there...it’s been long abandoned but has always had a strong connection, but if you take him there and he reaches out through the force, another Jedi somewhere might hear him and come.”

“If...”

“Like I said, there’s not many Jedi left,” he grimaced, “but someone might hear him. But it’s up to him, if he chooses to reach out. It’s his decision to make.”

“We’ll do it,” Din said quietly as he looked at his son sleeping in his arms, “if it could possibly help. Whatever it takes.”

“Yes,” you agreed, “we’re in this together.”

“I’m sure he’ll make the right decision,” Cal slowly rose to his feet, pausing as he studied the three of you. It reminded him of his own little found family, of Cere, or Merrin, or Greeze, and how no matter what, they were his family, “I think he’s already made his decision.”

"What do you mean?" you stood up and followed Cal as he walked towards the ramp to rejoin his own crew. Putting a hand on his arm, you gently stopped him, "what decision has he made?"

"You'll see," he promised quietly, casting a look back at the Mandalorian who was whispering gently to the small bundle, "I'm sorry I can't provide more answers, but I know you'll get them. But you - when you're ready, come and find us to build your saber. After that, I'm afraid our ways will have to part."

"Thank you, Cal Kestis," before you could stop yourself, you threw your arms around him and embraced him as though your life depended on it. He stiffened for a moment before responding in kind, "you've already given us so much."

He gave you a solemn nod, looking back at your Mandalorian before you, watching as your face softened, "may the force be with you."

"May the force be with you," you replied, closing the ramp back after he disappeared into the snow to keep the chill at bay.

You were silent for a moment, head practically spinning with everything going on, but one thing you for sure was that you loved your little family more than anything.

"Mesh'la?" Din tilted the helmet up at you, keeping your quiet gaze for a moment. You struggled to hold back tears as you slowly made your way over to your boys, "is everything okay?"

"I...umm...yes," not a position to even begin to try to explain your emotions, you held your hand and motioned for him to take it. Without hesitation, Din gently enveloped your hand with his and rose to his full height.

“I’m just...it’s a lot to take in. All of it.”

“Yes,” he commented gruffly, almost reminding you of the tone had adopted when you’d first met him. Your heart sank slightly at the thought and you hoped he wasn’t retreating into himself. Reaching up, you put your hand on the part of his neck that was covered in fabric and gave him a reassuring touch. 

“Let’s go and rest,” you whispered, feeling the gravitas start to weigh on you. Between everything that had happened in the last few days you were physically and mentally exhausted. The siren call of slumber was getting greater and greater with every passing second. Din seemed unsure for a moment but you weren’t going to let him pull away. You knew he was worried, maybe even terrified of what was to come, just as you were, but you wanted him to know that he was definitely not alone, “Din. I’ve got you, I promise. We’re a family, don’t forget that...please don’t shut us out.”

“I won’t,” it was a soft promise as he reached up and touched your cheek with his free hand, the other still holding tightly onto the little one. Keening into his touch, you exhaled slowly as he wiped away the single tray tear that had rolled down your cheek, “I won’t...”

“Come on,” you took his hand pulled him towards the small space that was deemed as your deemed, “the bed is small but we can make it work.”

And so he acquiesced, feeling calm and contented, almost as if he was glad to let someone else be in charge for once, glad to let be the follower instead of the leader. 

Once you were inside the small room, which made him look even more massive and broad, you reached for Grogu, taking care not to wake him up as you set in your bed, bundling him in blankets to keep him warm. He made a small sound, but quickly snuggled deeper into the blankets as your heart melted. 

Turning your attention back to Din, you reached for his arm, slowly, waiting for him to stop you if he so chose. 

But he didn’t. He made a small sound in the back of his throat as you worked to tenderly take off each piece of armor, starting with his boots. Setting each piece down gently, you didn’t stop until you were at his pauldrons, when you hesitated slightly. He was almost bare now, left in only his underclothes as he watched you work. Your breathing had become slow and methodical as you worked and you noticed that his had done the same 

Something palpable had shifted; you weren’t quite able to put your finger on it, but you could both sense it. Once the armor was stripped from his shoulders, you let your hands linger on them, offering him a reassuring squeeze before moving to pull away to switch off the lights so he could remove the helmet if he chose to. But before you could move, his hands went to your wrists and held your hands on his shoulders. 

“Din...” his name was soft but caught in your throat as you gazed into his visor. 

“I want...” he trailed off, a shaky exhale leaving the vocoder as you tried to pick his words carefully, “we’re family.”

“Yes,” you agreed with a gentle smile, “we are.”

“Y-you’re staying...right?”

“Always, Din,” you promised quickly, “always. We were meant to find each other, to be together. I love you more than anything.”

“I love you,” his heart settled a little bit as he spoke the words aloud, reaffirming himself that this was real, “and I want you to be my wife - my riduur.”

“Din...I...” you nodded, your words not needing to be spoken as you both understood loud and clear what you were saying. His hands were firm but gentle on yours as he slowly moved them closer and closer to his cowl and the metal exterior of his ever present helmet, “you don’t have to do this.”

“I know,” he rasped as you tried to keep your lips from trembling, “but I want to. You have never once asked, attempted to look, judged, or made a big deal out of it. If there is anyone in the galaxy that deserves this it’s you. The one I want to spend the rest of my days with. We found each other as hunter and prey, and look where we are now.”

“So different and yet utterly the same.”

“The first time you left,” he swallowed the lump in his throat as he tried to collect himself, “I didn’t know what I was doing. I’d never felt such a loss, such an emptiness before. I had to find you. But the second time...it was still hard, but it hurt less. I knew you’d be back, and we would be together again...”

“I felt the same way,” you confessed breathlessly, positive that your heart was about to burst out of your chest at his words, “it was the worst time of my life. Even once I’d accepted that you were gone, I still held onto hope that would we would be together again.”

“And now? I can’t imagine a day without you,” you sighed contentedly as you leaned forward and pressed your forehead against his beskar, “I will follow you to the ends of the galaxy, Mesh’la. You...you and Grogu are everything. You mean more to me than you will ever know.”

“Are you sure about this?” it was a mere whisper off your lips as it hung in the air for a few moments as Din weighed the gravitas of the moment. He inhaled deeply before nodding once. 

“I’ve never been more sure about anything in life than this,” his words were enough to make you melt on the spot as he slowly brought your hands to the side of his helmet. He didn’t remove his own, his large, warm hands covered your own as he slowly, painstakingly slowly, began to push it up. He halted for just one moment before whispered, “together.”

“Together,” you agreed as the helmet started to come up, higher and higher, inch by blissful inch. Out of habit, or instinct, or whatever you wanted to call it, you squeezed your eyes shut, not daring to sneak a peek. Once it was completely lifted from his head and he released your hands to set the helmet along with the rest of his armor. 

“Open your eyes, Mesh’la,” and gods did you almost choke as a strangled sound caught in your throat. His voice was warm and honeyed, that same baritone you’d heard before, but something was different about this. He reached up and touched your cheek, stroking it gently, “it’s okay...”

“Din,” it so damn soft that weren’t even sure that you’d said anything. And then slowly, little but little, you opened your eyes, blinking away the bleariness before finding him. And then you did it was like your heart stopped then and there as your world fell apartment and came back together all at once. 

Din. Din Djarin. Your love. Your soon to be riduur was starting at you with the softest expression you’d ever seen. 

He was a mixture of emotions, nervous, relieved, excited, overwhelmed, scared, happy. 

But then, as you reached up and found his face, studying him astutely, he realized what it was more than anything else. 

Loved. 

He was loved. So loved. And it radiated into every fiber of his being, golden like the sweetest daylight. 

“Hi,” you choked out as your tears welled up in your ears. He was so lovely, even lovelier than your vision made him out to be. Reaching up, you put your hands on either side of his face as you traced over his features, committing each little bit to memory. 

His lips, soft and plush, pulled in a little smile, completed with several days worth of stubble and a mustache that might have look silly on anyone else. His eyes, sweet and dark, crinkled slightly as his smile grew and a dimple of revealed. Those eyes that had seen such beauty and horror, so many things, and yet they still watched you like you were the only thing in the world that mattered. 

As you carded a hand through his dark curls, he made a sound of content as you scratched at his scalp. His was utterly beautiful, and while a small part of you wished you’d gotten to see this side of him earlier, you knew this was moment was perfect. 

“Hi,” he repeated as he waited for you to say something...anything else. Judging by your reaction, how still and soft you remained, he knew this was playing out just as it was meant to. 

“That vision had nothing on you,” you beamed at him, warming every part of him as he visibly relaxed, “you are...everything, Din. No matter what you think. “

“May I kiss you?” it was a timid, shy little question as you eagerly, wrapping your arms around his neck and breathing him in. He smelled as delicious as he always did, warm and musky, a comforting smell that both ensnared you and grounded in the same moment.

“You don’t have to ask,” his hands found your waist as he pulled you close and crashed his lips onto yours. It was proper this, for the first, and hopefully many more to come. His lips chased yours in a gentle manner, although there was a sense of urgency behind his kisses. 

Din pulled you against his body as you smiled against his lips, heart warming as you responded in kind. It wasn’t perfect by any means, a somewhat awkward, messy tangle of tongue and teeth as the two of you started to learn each other, in an entirely new way. But you wouldn’t have changed it any way at all. It was utterly perfect, and you knew then, just as you had before, that you were so in love with him. 

The force might have worked in mysterious ways, but this was destined to be. You knew that wherever the two of you where, whatever happened, your souls would always find their way back to each other. 

“I love you,” you grinned at him when you broke apart for a breath of air, foreheads pressed against each other. 

“Ni kar'tayli gar darasuum,” you raised your eyebrows at his words, attempting to figure out what he meant. You knew it  was Mando’a, all of your time spent studying his culture had taught you that much, but it didn’t help with the translation. He laughed lightly at the confused expression, causing your mouth to form a small o. 

“What does that mean?”

“It’s similar to I love you,” he promised, “it more or less means I hold you in my heart forever. More or less I love you.”

“I love it,” you replied with a small grin, “and you. Will you teach me?”

“Teach you what?” he asked you took his hand and started pulling him towards the bed where the little one still slept soundly, completely unawares that two worlds were changing right next to him. 

“Mando’a,” you pulled back to the blankets and pointed at the bed, motioning for him to crawl under them. He was tired, his head spinning, and he was eager to take you up on that offer, “I’d like to learn, to be able to speak it with you...and one day, o-our son.”

“Cassian,” he remember as you nodded, feeling a flush of warmth enter your face at the sheer thought. You switched the light off and padded back over to him, watching as he scooted over to make room for you, leaving Grogu nestled in between the two of you, “are you warm enough?”

“Yes,” you made yourself comfortable, snuggling into the pillows and blankets as his arm found its around your waist, his longer legs tangled with yours, “perfect. I wouldn’t change this for anything.”

“Me neither,” he agreed as he felt his eyes start to get heavy with sleep. This moment was everything; the three of you together as one little family. Which, he now knew, was exactly what you always had been, even when neither of you knew it, “rest now, Mesh’la.”

“You too Din,” you grabbed his hand with yours and laced your fingers together, “promise me something?”

“Anything.”

“That isn’t a dream? This is all real.”

“It’s not a dream,” he reassured you, “this is all very real. And tomorrow we’ll still all be here.”

“Good,” you brought his hand to your lips as you kissed his knuckles, “good. I love you, Din.”

“I love you too, Mesh’la. Now and always.”

»»————-　♡　————-««

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#din djarin #din djarin x reader #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #sitd #series #ff #my fic #fem reader

[irenadel]

So I recently read the short story “An Unwilling Apprentice” and found it all sorts of unsatisfying and intriguing, mostly because in canon we are given completely contradictory hints in regards to how old exactly Maul was when Sidious took him and in what circumstances he was taken.

1) Maul seems to remember nothing of Dathomir. True this can happen both if he was taken as a baby too young to remember or by sheer, ornery self-defense against remembering something less shitty that current circumstances.

1) a) Maul’s name: Maul says in Rebels that he used to have a name long ago, that was forgotten, which is just... I’m... it kills me okay? That just outright destroys the fuck out of me. Because it means he’s acknowldging a Dathomir he doesn’t remember, but now knows existed (thanks to Savage and that bitch Talzin, whom I stan), a Time Before Sidious. And also because... I don’t think “Maul” is actually a sithly soubriquet. “Maul” sounds too much like other nightbrother names, which sure, all sound sithly but that’s because Dathomir is neck deep in Dark Side Aesthetics. It’s entirely possible that “Maul” is his actual birth name. Talzin and Savage never call him anything else, though Talzin would have a vested interest in restoring to him any sort of lost name, maybe not in the immadiate aftermath of dragging Maul out of the pit of raving insanity, but at any point afterwards... maybe? a little? Mother Talzin if you named him something less metal please speak up...

2) There is that one depiction of Maul in Son of Dathomir, presumably at the time Sidious just got hold of him.

And like that’s absolutely adorable but he IS too old to not remember anything because of age (then again comic book artists are notorious for drawing weirdly adulty kids), so that means he did not remember because he blocked most of his memories? Well.... my problem with this is that you create a sort of phantom (ha!) preMaul where you have to imagine Maul sans Sidious’s influence and that’s.... strange if you’re not thinking about a baby or a toddler who have just the beginning of a personality. It’s unsatisfactory for me at least, because you strip Maul of all we know of Maul and chase after the shadow of a kid who no longer exists.

3) We have two accounts of how Maul ends up with Sidious, one of them Talzin insisting he was stolen (what does that mean? furtively? or by coercion like Asajj) and the other being Sidious’s account from the comic Son of Dathomir “a not so appreciated gift” or some old sithly nonsense like that. One must consider that both parties are liars, who is the worst liar of the two? who the fuck knows? So it’s entirely possible that both accounts are wrong or one is right or both are bogus.

3) a) Then there’s also that thing where apparently Talzin wanted to be Sidious’s apprentice and like... for what? and how? and why? and how did you think this was gonna come out okay!? You’re already either clan mother or poised to be clan mother, what do you need this shmuck for!? (Wait! did she become clan mother because of what he taught her? Intriguing new possibility) Like with all competent, older dark siders (I see you Dooku) I am always left baffled by how anyone who is both powerful and saavy ever gets roped into siding with Sidious. The dude is like Chronic Backstabbing Disorder: The Movie. There is nothing about him that says Trustworthy... unless he actually has the chance to groom you since childhood. Like I get Maul, Anakin and Ben Solo.... but WTF Dooku and Talzin?! You guys knew better!!!!

3) b) This is happening when Sidious’s own master is still alive right? Whether you take that to be Plagueis or else... So, so, so.... is Sidious hanging around Dathomir to find out a way to kill his own master? Doesn’t he say something along the lines of “I was learning from her when she thought she was learning from me”? I dunno, sounds like a shitty Sidious thing to do.

So all this to say “An Unwilling Apprentice” presents us a scenario where Maul is in Dathomir long enough to be a boy taught by his mother, who is sometimes bullied by other, bigger boys, and old enough to understand fishy things are happening between his mom and the creepy dude (Sidious). And the manipulation is spot on, don’t get me wrong, Sidious does that thing he does with Anakin where he tells Talzin to do horrible things to herself to gain more power and all these things do is drive a wedge between her and her son, all the while he is stoking anger and resentment in Maul, so that when the time comes Maul goes with him willingly even though that was not the deal he and Talzin had struck. So it is true both that this boy is being “stolen” but also given as a sort of gift to Sidious...

It’s just that this author does the thing authors in Star Wars always do, where they ignore previously established canon, because we can’t actually have one coherent galaxy can we? Because... one, Maul is old enough to remember everything... and like okay I can go with him just blocking those memories.... but this also means Maul was taken old enough for Savage to remember and Savage doesn’t seem to in TCW. Let’s grant that Maul is an unreliable narrator who may be supressing memories or lying about how much he remembers.... but SAVAGE doesn’t remember him. How much Savage actually remembers of his brothers and life is also up for debate, given the Dark Side Steroids and brainwashing he underwent, but still.... STILL it seems the only one who fully remembers Maul is Talzin.

But then we have this in “An Unwilling Apprentice”:

“Matters, however, were only to get worse, for later that night, having been hauled from the pit, the boy found himself introduced to those his keeper claimed would become his kin: a tall, wiry boy of a similar age and a stocky, broad shouldered boy at least a year older.

‘These two boys had for too long been starved of the love and attention all children crave, for the keeper was a stern and self-righteous man, and their mother had long before been taken from them to join a mysterious order from which she had never returned. It seemed fitting, then, that the two of them resented the new boy as much as he resented them, for he represented another mouth to feed and another who would vie for the keeper’s scant attention.“

Are the boys bullying Maul, Savage and Feral??? What the hell kind of jump in characterization is this? Because Savage and Feral seem to be adorable bros who just bro around being bros and not harming anyone until Asajj shows up to fuck their whole shit up... And like I get people can change a lot growing up but...... come on, you don’t have time to take me through such a radical change in personality, this is a short story! Or maybe these bullies have nothing to do with his brothers. (There’s another brother mentioned as a “weakling”? Is THAT Savage? But then Savage is definitely Force sensitive and not a weakling.... is it Feral? Why mention weakling brother if we don’t get enough information on him to place him or have him do enough to affect the story? AUGH!)  And there’s the line, “their mother had been taken from them”.... So nightsisters grow up with nightbrothers? What? Is this keeper brother Viscus? What is going on? What insanity is this?

This is what I mean by ignoring canon. Dathomir is presented as a society violently segregated by gender. You never see any young boys with the nightsisters or any young girls with the nightbrother. For all intents and purposes they all live apart until Violent Breeding Ritual of Rapey Undertones ensues. Any story where you want Maul to be raised at least partially by Talzin must account for this segregation and in that sense you don’t actually... need.... the bullies.... they are kind of superfluous.... You have a whole caste system beating down on babyMaul and his mother wanting to keep him besides her. But then once more you have to account for olderMaul remembering nothing of this. Which okay, fair enough, Savage seems not to remember either. Neither of them seem to be scared or even wary of women... though by all means Savage should definitely be....

I just think it was a good plot with a weak setup that ignored a super useful canon setting and does not account for Maul remembering nothing of all of this! 

When considering all of this I wonder if the most interesting explanation is that Maul did spend enough time in Dathomir to remember but he does not from sheer trauma. I think adult Maul seems to depend on Sidious a lot but... he also seems a lot more... I’m not going to say rebellious, but I’ll say “aware” than Anakin. He goes behind Sidious’s back much more than Vader and is way more resentful of his position as a subordinate (and ready to lord his masterdom over Savage as soon as he gets it... but.... harmlessly.....like siths but for babies, babysiths).

Maybe the more interesting view is to think that Maul remembers nothing and it is only upon encountering Savage and Talzin that, little by little, he begins to remember pieces of it. It would explain his sudden loyalty to Talzin. It would explain his desire for a long forgotten name that Sidious never gave him... it would explain... a lot...

#Star Wars #Darth maul #savage opress #mother talzin #son of dathomir #Sidious sucks and I hate him #You're not doing much better Talzin #*sighs* #brother viscus #feral opress #is that even his last name??? #dathomir #Dooku and Talzin suck at judging people's trustworthiness #they don't even have Anakin's myriad of excuses

[musewrangler]

In honor of OT Week here’s a little one shot I wrote a while back. My favorite film is The Empire Strikes Back.

This story is entitled— Piett’s Promotion

(In my work, the Lady is sentient and Veers didn’t die on Hoth)

He lost track of how many hours he had spent on the bridge, ruthlessly clamping down on his emotions. He had hated the man, it was true. And had suffered at his hands. But he had not ever wished that death upon him. He could still hear Ozzel’s wet chokes and see his bulging eyes, mere feet from himself. That last, desperate gurgle as he turned toward Piett-- as though the Captain could do anything against the Force. The thud of his body---it sounded like someone had dropped a bag of meat on the deck.

Lord Vader on the holoscreen, dispassionately squeezing the life from the man and calmly informing Piett what he wanted done with the fleet.

You are in command now, Admiral Piett.

So he went through the motions of being in command. Of taking reports. Checking duty rosters. Speaking to the morgue about the disposal of Ozzel’s body. Force . Writing to his family, because someone should.

Then---the asteroid field. His Lady, his fleet now, going to their destruction. And he had tried.

Three years he had worked with Vader and he had watched the obsession for finding Skywalker grow. Say what you would about Vader, and people did, he had seemed to genuinely care about Death Squadron, about the men and ships that served him faithfully. And he was being ordered to take that Squadron to their deaths, throw all that away, to find that damn ship.

So he had tried. He knew his life was forfeit. He went to Vader. His bridge crew clearly believed he would not return from that meeting. Veers had commed him as he walked to Vader’s quarters and begged him not to go. But he had to. For the sake of the men. For the sake of his Lady. And was told it was not an excuse. Vader was willing for the Lady, the pride of the fleet, his flagship, to be horrifically damaged, if not destroyed, in this obsessive quest.

The only moment in his entire career that Piett appreciated hearing from the Emperor happened just in time.

They had moved out of the asteroid field and Piett had an entirely new burden as damage reports flooded his datapad and alarms blared around the Lady’s bridge. So he did what he had to---he ordered repairs, he checked casualty reports, at one point, he personally had his hands in some of the Lady’s wiring, repairing damage to her bridge deflector shield.

And then…..

Avenger reported they had her.

Piett had served with Needa at one point. They weren’t quite friends, they hadn’t had time for that, but he liked the man and thought he was a good officer. And a good man.

So good that he felt he needed to shield his men from Vader’s unpredictable wrath. And for the second time in 48 hours, Piett had to stand by as another larynx was crushed and this time, Vader mocked his prey.

Apology accepted Captain Needa.

And all of Piett’s emotions must be silenced. Because he had his own men to think of. If he was to die, some other poor bastard would be Admiral. He would rather kill himself trying to save them than have Vader crush his throat.

At some point, and he genuinely couldn’t say when in the eternity he experienced, Captain Kelly had walked up to his side, carefully removed the datapad he found he’d been clenching in his hands, and quietly murmured, “Admiral, I have the bridge. Please sir, go and rest.”

Piett had stared at him a beat and then realized that he was being given a reprieve.

“You have the bridge, Captain,” he’d said in automatic tones that must have been his and then he was turning to walk as straight and confident as he could toward the blast doors.

First hurdle cleared, he made it to the turbolift where he allowed himself to lean against the wall for support.

There had been a time when he thought that Vader actually gave a damn about his men. That he was building something which Piett was proud to be part of. But this consuming obsession…..

His deck. He felt as though he was watching someone else as his boots moved slowly toward the Admiral’s quarters---his quarters.

Someone other than himself (perhaps Captain Kelly) had ordered his things transported here, and Ozzel’s removed. He could still smell the chemicals that the cleaning crew had used, to prepare it for their new admiral. He wondered if the smell would have faded by the time the next admiral was installed here. For he had no illusions. His death was coming swiftly in this mad chase for Skywalker.

One of his miniature trees was tipped over. In automatic response, he carefully righted it, scooping the dirt back in with his fingers. They were trembling.

Force. He needed a drink. He didn’t care if he was commed---he was going to die anyway, might as well add some liquid courage to face it.

He stumbled to the cabinet and found his liquor collection neatly put away. He found the strongest one he had--something from Dathomir--- and a glass, and poured it full, cursing the shaking in his hands as it spilled on the floor.

He stumbled to his sofa and sat, taking a long fiery drink, and then set the glass on the table, and managed to remove his hat and gloves. He unfastened the top of his duty jacket and found himself gazing at his very gleaming brand new Admiral bars.

Kriff it. He’d hated Ozzel but this had not been the way he wanted a promotion. Six hundred men had died today as a direct result of travelling through an asteroid field.

Dear family, I’m so sorry to write to you to inform you of the death of your son/father/brother. They were pulverized by a completely unnecessary asteroid trip because our commander has lost his kriffing mind over a Rebel pilot.

Piett took another long drink and poured another. As he made a good start on it, the lights of his quarters dipped into indigo.

He laugh/sobbed. “Yes lady, I am sad. That word…….doesn’t begin to cover what I’m feeling I’m afraid.”

Icey blue light--her color for fear. “Yes, literally afraid. I’m likely going to be dead soon….” He put the glass down again and buried his face in his hands.

The Lady. What would happen if he died next? Would Vader take care of her? Today’s actions didn’t seem to indicate that he would. Piett had to find a way to survive. Someone had to try and stand between Vader’s madness and this ship and crew.

The icey blue was flashing at him as he lifted his face and he realized that she was frightened at his words.

“I’m sorry….I’m sorry, Lady, I will do my best not to be. Lord Vader is….can you sense that he is not….right?”

Her regular lights flashed. <Yes>

He finished his glass and his head swam.

“Lady, if…..if…..I can’t, then you must take care of this crew. Do not let Lord Vader hurt you, do you understand?”

And that was dangerously close to treason, even in his rather intoxicated ears.

She flashed her lights and gave him indigo again.

“I’m sorry, Lady, but you need to be prepared, if I……” he reached for the bottle again, and suddenly strong hands were taking it from him, and he followed the hands with his eyes up to the deeply compassionate gaze of the General.

“Enough, Firmus.” He set the bottle somewhere out of sight and came around the sofa to kneel in front of Piett and begin undoing his duty jacket.

The Admiral’s swimming brain was struggling now, between the alcohol and the exhaustion of terror.

“Max. You’re in sickbay.” He raised a finger to point at him. “You will be in soooooo much trouble with Henley.”

“I discovered today, much to my shock,” Veers began, helping Piett shrug out of the jacket and reaching for his boots next, “that underneath multiple layers of baked on cynicism and appalling condescension, the Doctor might possibly have a heart. When he heard you were on a path to throw yourself between Vader and this crew, he let me go early. And your Lady got my attention a short while ago by blinding me with that white light she’s chosen for you.”

The General had finished wrestling off his boots and Piett noted the still pink and healing lines on his face from his injuries on Hoth.

“Now,” said Veers firmly. “I would say congratulations, but this is not the time and I’m so kriffing sorry that it happened this way, Firmus.”

“He was right next to me,” Piett whispered, and found himself irrationally angry that his hands were still shaking. “I need one more drink, Max, I’ve got to keep it together….”

“You do need one more drink, Admiral, but not alcohol.” The General rose and procured a glass of water which he came back and handed carefully to his friend. “That’s an order, drink it all. I found out how long you were on the bridge, and you are no doubt dehydrated. Drinking that much….” he looked back at the bottle, “damn when you go for it, you really do, don’t you? Dathomirian vodka? Yes, more water it is.”

Piett did not like the feeling of crumbling, but it was happening and he couldn’t make it stop. He tried anyway. “Techina---telechni---kriff, technically , I outrank you now, General Veers.”

He saw Max pause and glance at him with an eyebrow raised. “Well. Even plastered, trust you to know your military protocols by heart. That is true, Admiral .”

Piett flinched at the title. Veers relented, getting more water silently and snagging the duvet from the bed in the other room.

Don’t be comforting Max. I can’t. I will break utterly and I don’t think I have time for that.

Another glass of water was shoved into his hands and then his duvet was draped around his shoulders. Veers seated himself close to his friend.

“I know you pretty well now Firmus, would you agree?”

Piett just nodded, drinking the water, letting it slide down a throat that was feeling tighter by the moment.

Like Ozzel’s, like Needa’s.

“So I hope you can trust me enough to believe what I’m going to say.” Veers paused, considering. “A great deal of bantha poodo has occurred in the last several days. Hoth was a success in some ways. But I lost three walkers.”

“I’m sorry, Max I should have….”

“You should have nothing, Firmus. You haven’t had a single second to breathe until now and I know it. My point is, that our commander is…..not what we had hoped. But we both have men under our command and I know that you care about that. If what I overheard you telling the Lady is any indication…..you don’t expect to make it much longer.”

Piett shuddered involuntarily and in a rare move (he must look pathetic) Veers got an arm around him.

“I’m here to tell you, that you must . Keep your head down, follow orders, do your best as you always do, and hope that Lord Vader remembers that you are one of his most competent and loyal officers.”

And he would like to find some shreds of hope in that, he would, but….

“Did you…..” he cleared his throat and gave another attempt. “Did you hear about Needa?”

A pause. Veers sighed. “Yes. Kriff it. Were you there for that too?”

And the throat that was now unbearably tight wouldn’t work for him to make any words, and Piett leaned forward to hide his face in his hands as his shoulders shook.

Veers’ arm tightened around him.

“Get it out here, Firmus, it won’t help to try and bury that. I’ll be here as long as you need.”

You are in command now, Admiral Piett.

#star wars original trilogy #star wars #otweek2021 #firmus piett #general veers #ssd executor #the empire strikes back #ao3 fanfic

[zabrak-show]

Maybe Talzin/Viscus for 10: in Secret kiss,in the angst/Fluff random kisses prompt list

yes oh gosh, i love these 2 so much, thanks for the request!

Apawi

Pairing: Mother Talzin x Brother Viscus

Rating: Mature for nightbrother/sister mating ritual things, but nothing explicit (please note i don't condone the nightsister treatment of nightbrothers i'm just writing what i think a celebration like this might be for them)

Words: 671

Summary: It's midsummer on Dathomir or Apawi Celebration (Paecian for Sun, idk what else to call it haha) and Talzin and Viscus share a stolen moment away from the festivities.

It was the day of the Apawi celebration where almost all of Dathomir got together. A day of celebrating light and fertility. Mother Talzin and the sisters picked herbs and plants in their vast gardens days before the event to prepare. Many mating bonds were about to occur, and each sister had to concoct their own unique love spell for the big night. The brothers had rigorous training to prepare for their dangerous tasks. One of the mating rituals was to best a rancor without killing it and escape the bottomless pit they were trapped in with it. Ensuring only the strongest, most innovative, and bravest could breed with the Nightsisters.

Talzin awoke before dawn and prepared herself for the longest day of the year. The nightbrothers ran torches to the outer rim of the field of celebration, marking the boundaries with towering green flames against the now dark pink sky as dawn broke. The air already thick with heat and humidity, only to grow warmer and warmer as more light crested over them.

A quiet meditative prayer with all the brothers and sisters started the festival. Talzin led them in all the soft chanting, now filling the once peaceful valley. Each brought their own small candle to place in the river with wishes or memories to fill the planet's atmosphere and remind them of the light even in the darkest of times. Small flickering green flames made their way down the river as each whispered their own devotions to the river.

The rest of the daylight hours were spent watching the Nightbrothers escape their respective pits of doom with rancors. It was messy and hot and brutal. Not all of the brothers would survive. The nightsisters watched eagerly, cheering their favorite brothers on.

Once the brothers escaped the rancor pit, they could imbibe in celebratory drinks and food. There were meats of every kind the planet had to offer, barbecued, grilled, fried, raw, glazed, baked, as far as the eye could see on a long banquet table. Wines, ales, and sparkling potions lined another table parallel to the foods. The sisters and brothers mingled about eating, drinking, flirting, some already copulating.

Viscus found Talzin in her usual spot. Meditating at a shrine, she lit candles every year for their lost son. She sensed Viscus before he announced himself.

"Someday, our son will come back to us, Brother, someday." Her outstretched hands over the flame showed a shadow of a young Zabrak training in hand-to-hand combat.

"He should be here, with his brothers, training with us." Viscus shook his head and sat next to Talzin.

She removed her hand from the flame, and the vision of the boy disappeared.

"His path had to be different." Her voice was cold and calm, but Viscus knew she was hurting. He'd known her for too long to not understand that about her.

The young Nighsisters and Nightbrothers were all partaking in their respective mating rituals. In beds of grass, in tents, in soft sandy spots of the ground, wherever the love potion sent them.

"Brother, you are still strong and fit. Why are you not mating with the sisters?" She looked over to the tan Nightbrother, still as handsome as the day they met all those years ago for their own mating ritual.

"I've long since taken the role of chaperone for these events, as you are well aware."

"Such a waste," she caressed his face with her long spindly fingers. He couldn't help but lean into it. A touch he so desperately missed. She tilted her ghost-white face into him, and they shared a secret kiss in the final moments of the sunset. Viscus pulled away and looked around in paranoia.

"Mother, it is forbidden for me to engage in any activities without passing the test and drinking a potion."

"You and I have no need for the mating ritual," her hands wrapped around the back of his neck, and their foreheads touched. "We are forever bonded by our love. By our sons."

------------------------

taglist:

@lestrange2703 @mock-ing-bird_ing_bird @maulieber @botherbother-blog @emissarydecksetter @wolfpack-arts-industries99 @a-dorin @spookiifi

#mother talzin #brother viscus #viscus/talzin #fluff #nightsister #nightbrother #dathomir #dathomirian zabrak #summer solstice #midsummer #apawi #requests #fanfic #clone wars fanfic #paecian #star wars fanfic

[danger-xylophones]

Family Reunion Part 10

{masterlist}

Warnings: Have some more angst, my friends. Some character death-as in It happened in the past TPM, some description of pain/injury, a contactless duel, brief mention of suicidal thoughts. 

This got really dark towards the end, I’m sorry. 

Notes I’m so sorry this took so long, I was going through some stuff and this was a real humdinger of an installment to get hung up on. 

Ya’ll need to thank @aberionart for this even getting completed. If not for her art giving me the motivation to attack this beast of a chapter, it wouldn’t have gotten done. Thank you for helping me get out of my writing funk! I always love your art and how positive and supportive you are of everyone! 

PADAWAN WILD

Words: 6.7k

Taglist:@and-claudia // @tararuthven // @aberionart // @noiralei // @pinkiemme // @darthsmol // @zabrak-show // @obi-wan-kanbonemi // @videogamesandpoorlifechoices // @justalittlecloud

<- Previous 

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“Well,” a voice unlike any you’d ever heard before seared over your ears-creating a cold sense of dread that dripped down your spine like ice water. You flicked your eyes open cautiously and raised your head off of Wild’s, simultaneously pulling the young boy closer to you. “What do we have here?” It continued, echoing all around with a low, completely unnatural reverb. You couldn’t help but pick up on the way the owner of the voice pronounced the letter ‘w’-like a ��v’ instead. It...it was similar to the way Maul used to speak after trying to teach you paecian. It was always so funny to you that speaking in his mother tongue accidentally made him develop a bit of an accent for a little while afterward. Reluctantly, you rose to your feet, keeping Wild close to your front though as your gaze trailed down the ramp to observe Savage standing next to a tall creature clad all in red. They had a high forehead and black tattoos over their face in large blocks and groups. Eventually, you locked eyes with them, e/c staring into piercing, eerie blue. “Ah, you must be padawan L/n.” 

“Mother Talzin, I presume?” You greeted cordially despite the agonizing urge to reach for your sabers and rid the galaxy of the witch. “I am...honored to finally meet you in person. But, if you please, I go by Y/n as I have forgone any affiliation with the Jedi.” 

Mother Talzin hummed, moving unnervingly slow as she bowed her head just enough to acknowledge your confession. The strange tentacle-like pieces of cloth affixed to the back of her cloak followed the movement, slithering in the non-existent wind. “Very well, Y/n.” The Nightmother scanned you in silence after her statement, most likely trying to size you up. You kept your chin raised as you turned to face her more and pushed Wild behind you. Immediately, the witch caught the movement and her eyes zeroed in on Wild. “Ah, and who might this be?” 

You swallowed and let your eyes flicker over to Savage for help but the yellow zabrak could offer none. “This is Wild.” You eventually explained. 

“Your son?” The Nightmother observed though you had the slightest inclination that, though it sounded like a question, it was a statement designed to make you uncomfortable. And it was working. You nodded briefly, tongue darting out to quickly wet your lips-you were getting nervous. Mother Talzin became quiet again, now scanning over Wild who was quietly peeking out from behind you, one hand fisted into the fabric of your tunic and the other itching for one of the sabers on your hip. Evidently, he was as uncomfortable as you were. “He is a fine specimen.” You bristled, stepping to the side to shield Wild from her gaze entirely as your hand landed on your saber. Talzin looked back up at you and spoke with a wry smile, “It is a shame he is a half-blood, he would have made an excellent nightbrother.” 

Over my dead body. You thought bitterly and fixed the witch with the most murderous stare you could muster. Talzin was unfazed by your offense and simply directed her attention to the other red zabrak in the cargo hold-Maul, who had sequestered himself behind boxes once more now much further into the hold. The guilt that followed your realization that he was hiding from you stung more than any blaster bolt would. 

You were pulled from your misery by the sound of the force swirling and converging on one spot, ominous whispers and chants following where it went as a green mist started to fill the cargo hold. Mother Talzin, still stood at the end of the ramp was swirling her hands around a steadily forming glowing green ball of her magic. “Come,” she commanded, her voice taking on a higher reverb, “Let us fix what has been broken.” She calmly released the green ball and it glided over to Maul, bathing the cargo hold in an unsettling yellowish green as it went that had Wild clinging tighter to you as he poked his head around your waist to watch. Your hand fell to his shoulder, wrapping it in a tight grip as you followed the orb with your eyes. “Come to me.” Talzin continued. “Come to me, come to me.” The orb disappeared briefly as it weaved between crates, only trackable by the ominous green glow. “Come to me, lost one, come to me. Follow us, son of Dathomir. Follow me, lost one.Come, child of Dathomir. Follow me.” Talzin urged once more, the whispering and chanting echoing ominously back, till Maul finally began to listen. Originally shying away from the magic, he now followed it-shoving boxes aside and chasing after it like a child enchanted by an odd bug that flitted through the air. 

You started to back up to give Maul more room and encouraged Wild to do the same with a hand on his shoulder. He rolled it and your hand fell away. It felt like someone had stabbed you through the chest. You froze completely, eyes glued to the half-zabrak who didn’t acknowledge you and instead kept his attention fixed on Maul as he followed Mother Talzin and Savage away. 

The hangar fell silent. Neither of you moved. 

You rolled your lips in, anxiously gnawing on them. You had to say something. “Wild…” you began in a soft voice. 

“Don’t.” The word was whispered, barely audible, but it bombarded your ears like a barrage of blaster fire. “Just...don’t.” You had never heard your son sound more defeated. 

“Alright.” You swallowed in an attempt to keep the tremble at bay. “Wild, are you okay?” 

“...Yeah.” He lied and you sucked in a breath. “I don’t want to talk about it.” 

Force, you’d messed up. “Okay…” you began slowly, stalling on every syllable that left you, “what do you want?”

“...” Wild shifted but continued to stare at the opposing wall. You could hear the answer he wanted to give as it floated all around you, suspended by the anxieties of the both of you. Force, you’d messed up. The truth. It mocked you. Bouncing off of the walls and around your feet-all emanating from the only other person in the room. The truth, the truth, the truth. “A duel.” 

The reply caught you off guard, Wild’s thoughts and true desires disappeared in an instant which returned the both of you to that deathly still cargo hold once more. “What?” You asked, taken aback. 

Wild finally turned to face you, his little red face set in the most serious expression he could muster. To you it was the perfect cross between Maul’s scowl and your glare and you did not like being on the receiving end of it. That look was meant for strangers that were too nosy for their own good. That look was a defence you had taught him. That look was not supposed to be used against you. “You joked about training earlier and then you asked me what I wanted. Well, I want to duel as part of my training for today.” The young boy asserted with crossed arms. 

You blinked, regarding your son uncertainly. Wild didn’t like to duel because he could never beat you and that always frustrated him and he’d get all huffy and sulk in the farthest place from you. “Alright…” you began. You continued to size Wild up. Your son had a plan and he was determined to box you in, that much you could tell, but what that plan was was unclear. The truth. That was his goal. And suddenly you knew what he was going to do. Both he and yourself knew that you were the most open about Maul when you were preoccupied. So, in theory, if Wild could distract you with a fight he could weasel more information out of you. A good plan but not one you’d go along with. “Here.” You tossed your blue lightsaber to the boy who scrambled to catch it. “Take up position.” You commanded, switching into your teaching voice-the one you had once used on younglings during your tenure as a padawan, the one Ki-Adi had used on you, the one you loathed to use on Wild. Following your own instructions, you ignited your lightsaber, green blade bathing the cargo hold in a complimenting glow, and dipped into a slight crouch. The hilt of the saber twirled elegantly in your hand-a practiced manuever Maul had helped you perfect so you could slip between forward and reverse grips with ease. Wild faltered. Evidently, he had been prepared to argue. But, your son reacted swiftly by correcting his face and mimicking your pose though he kept his saber in front of him pointing up. “I don’t need to repeat the rules-no contact, tap out when you need to, and nothing that could endanger either of our lives. It is crucial to be aware of all that is around you in a duel and a great way to practice is by following the rules laid out during training.” You quickly rambled off the same spiel you always repeated when you and Wild dueled. “If any real injuries occur, we end the duel immediately. Understood?” 

“Understood.” Wild confirmed with a firm nod. 

The game began. You kept your eyes trained on your son and remained still, your only motion the infrequent twirl of your lightsaber as you gave the boy the opportunity to make the first move. He was beginning to look more and more uncertain. Still, he took a step to the right-you took a step to the left. You took another step, he did as well and thus you both began to slowly circle each other. Wild shifted his grip, slipping into the opening stance for Form II and you mimicked him-your own legs taking on a wider stance as you brought your lightsaber slightly off to your side pointing up and held between both hands. Form IV, the form you’d adapted to survive. In your training you had always favored Form V, liking the way it offered both defense and offense, but after meeting Maul you’d started to favor IV. Wild, on the other hand, was a more defensive fighter (probably because he was younger) and he relied heavily on the basics and Form III. But he was nervous-he was vulnerable. And he wasn’t going to make the first move. Noble but potentially dangerous. You moved in. 

You darted forward, lightsaber swinging for his left leg as it was the most exposed. Wild moved quickie and swung his blade down to block it and you fell back. Your son was too careful-too afraid of fighting to chase your strike. It was something you were working on-you’d forgone teaching him IV for now and opted to begin V for him to encourage the introduction of more offensive moves. It was a slow process. 

Spotting another opening on his right, you moved in again. Wild reacted quicker this time and met the strike with enough time and force to push you back. Good. But that left him exposed to a kick to the ribs. You brought your leg up quickly and stopped just before you made contact. “Protect your vitals, Wild.” Was your simple instruction as you moved away before he could retaliate. You were moving quicker now, feinting to the right before swooping in for his left. And Wild was beginning to loosen up-reacting more sharply as he did so. But still, “Wild, loosen up. You’re far too tense for any effective combat.” You corrected with a well aimed poke with your index finger to his kidneys. It was an attack he would’ve been able to block had he spun in time. Wild whirled around to strike at you but you were too quick, already leaping over him to continue mock-striking his sides and other exposed vitals. Wild was growing frustrated. He spun on his heel faster than anything you'd seen from him this whole time and brought the blue lightsaber down. You met the strike. He moved to the right, you matched him. He moved his blade to the left, you twirled yours to meet the strike and pushed him back. A huff slipped from him as he recovered and came at you once more. You blocked it and quickly brought your leg up-attempting to “kick” him in the side again. He took one hand off of his blade to block the strike which was a critical mistake. You spun around swiftly and caught Wild’s blade once more and began to steadily force him to back up. Locked in a stalemate with you steadily placing more of your weight in the strike and Wild perpetually collapsing under it you made your next move carefully. You snapped up, removing your weight with a quick spin of your saber that had Wild’s wrist twisting back uncomfortably. He yelped and dropped the saber. You deactivated yours and stepped away while your son assessed his wrist. “Loosen your grip next time, it will help you maneuver the blade more fluidly which, in turn, will make a move like that much more difficult for your opponent to pull off.” 

Wild muttered something under his breath that you didn’t catch, eyes trained on the fallen lightsaber as if he could make it combust with his mind. “Would you like to try again?” There was no verbal response from the young boy. He, instead, bent down and scooped the weapon up again-inspecting it as though he had never seen it before. He was silent for a few more seconds. 

“When can I get my own lightsaber?” He finally asked and met your e/c eyes with his saffron ones. “Yours is too light. It feels like I’m holding nothing.” Too light. You knew Wild didn’t like using your blue saber-while it was the heavier of the two you weilded it was still built to be lightweight like your green one-though it wasn’t a complaint he voiced often. You shifted, your stoic, teaching oriented facade falling away for a moment. Wild was proving to be more and more like Maul as time progressed-he favored brute strength and speed despite being a defensive fighter. With a deep breath in you steadied yourself, mind flitting to the location of the lightsaber you had intended to give him-it would have been perfect for your son despite only being half of his father’s original weapon. You had rebalanced it (your pet project you used to lessen the ache in your chest when Maul’s “death” was a fresh wound). You made sure that the energy dispersion was adequate but the blade still deadly. You’d cleaned it and sealed the bottom up to remove the jagged edge left from when Kenobi sliced your love’s weapon. You’d restored it. But the kyber crystal was removed: taken out to avoid potential injury of you or your son should it decide to malfunction and placed in a hidden compartment in the bottom of your green saber. 

“I told you-once I finish teaching you Form V, we’ll try and sneak onto Illum or somewhere else to find you a kyber crystal.” You informed placidly, keeping your eyes on your son. You filed away the knowledge of Maul’s saber for now. Wild grumbled under his breath again and you raised an eyebrow at him. “Would you like to try again?” You asked once more. He didn’t answer verbally, merely slipped into the opening stance for V this time. With an acknowledging nod, you readied your own weapon. 

Wild struck first this time: darting forward with as much speed as he could muster. Instead of blocking it, you fell back and doubled around to strike at his back. But Wild had learned and fell forward causing you to stumble which gave him time to whirl around. He brought his saber down towards your leg but you blocked it. Instead of backing off like you thought he would, your son continued to press his weight down. “Good, Wild, good.” You commended in as warm a tone you could muster. “But watch your back leg because…” you spun out of the lock and mimicked his earlier strike though you stopped before you made contact. “If I was a real enemy, that would be the first thing to go for.” Wild didn’t acknowledge the instruction. He, instead, launched right into another volley of strikes. “Your wrist, sweetpea, use your wrist instead of your whole arm-it’s faster, more maneuverable, and it doesn’t take as much energy per strike.” You corrected again. There was a muttered complaint under his breath but he did correct his grip. You took the chance to lob your own series of strikes against your son. His blocking was a little sloppy but he had improved since the last time you sparred. 

You were getting bored though. Without warning, you raised a hand and used the force to pull your son off balance. He hit the durasteel with a loud thump, the lightsaber clattering on the floor next to him. Almost immediately, he slammed his hands down and sat up to regard you with the most scathing scowl he could. “That’s cheating!” Wild shrieked at you. 

You tilted your head and shrugged. “Your opponent will do whatever they can to gain the advantage-you must be prepared.” You explained placidly whilst inspecting the hilt of your lightsaber. “Again.” Returning your attention to the half-zabrak, you slipped into your opening stance once more. The young boy sighed exasperatedly and snatched up his fallen weapon. Your son was starting to get frustrated which told you it was almost time to take a break. “Once more and then we’ll stop.” Nothing. “Fair?” A low sigh and the igniting of the blade once more was his reply. This time, you didn’t wait for him to strike. You surged forward, aiming a strike for Wild’s neck at as slow a pace as you could manage. Wild met it and flicked you away but you were quick on the uptake and resumed. Another strike towards his leg, towards his arm, and his hip-each one deflected and reciprocated. Wild was getting better at tapping into V, relying less and less on the purely defensive tactics he always relied on. But, he was getting tired; his strikes were getting sloppy. You weren’t faring much better. A headache had formed-the two epicenters either side your skull. It was strange. There was a bizarre climbing sensation that accompanied it-like two hands clawing up either temple. You were very grateful that you decided this would be the last round as a quick nap seemed to be in order. 

Wild was still on the offensive, attacking with all the strength he had but he was slowing down quick. Again, you raised your hand and pushed him away using the force. The boy sighed low in his throat-the sound bordering on a growl. But, his attacks resumed all the same. You repeated your own actions. “Stop.” The growl was more coherent this time. You both repeated. “I said stop that!” Wild snapped again, diving forward. You furrowed your brows and fell back to avoid the strike entirely. You raised your hand once more and Wild froze mid step, held in place by an invisible grip. 

“Wild, are you alright?” You asked, teacher facade fading entirely as you sheathed your saber and took a step towards him. “We can call it quits if you’d like-!”

“Will you stop that?” Wild yelled and in his anger, he managed to escape your grip. The boy recovered quickly while you were left floundering, trying desperately to understand what was happening. But you weren’t fast enough. Wild set his face in a scowl, his eyes flickering a strange color for just a moment, and raised both of his hands and your back collided with the opposite wall. 

You didn’t know what had happened. One minute, you and Obi Wan were stuck behind ray shields, helplessly watching the ensuing fight between Master Qui-Gon and your love, your husband, Maul, and the next, you were curling over Master Qui-Gon’s body in a fruitless attempt to urge him to cling to life while Obi Wan went for Maul. You knew what Maul was. You knew what he could do. But to see him do it? 

You were trembling, eyes not straying from the two figures locked in combat. You didn’t know what you were feeling but there was a lot of it that caused an anxious swirling cyclone to manifest in the pit of your stomach. One hand curled around your barely formed bump-was that really the father of your child? The one that could kill without thought? No. You told yourself. No, that is not my Maul. That...that is Darth Maul. There was a sudden squeeze of your hand that momentarily distracted you from the fear now slowly consuming you. Qui-Gon was still fighting. 

“Master Qui-Gon!” You exclaimed quietly, returning your attention to the dying man. “Master Qui-Gon, speak to me, please.” You begged the Jedi. Almost painfully, his eyelids fluttered open. 

“O-Obi Wan? Where...where is Obi Wan?” He wheezed and looked around as best he could. 

Tears pricked your eyes as you opened your mouth to answer. “Fighting Maul, maste-” You were cut off-your body suddenly airborne. You flew away from the fallen Jedi’s side until your back collided rather harshly with a durasteel wall on the opposite side of Qui-Gon. Pain ricocheted up your spine at the sensation as your eyes immediately tried to take in your sudden shift in surroundings. Your gaze settled on Maul and Obi Wan, the former stood with his hand outstretched towards you and his lightsaber at his side. There was an unreadable expression on his face that was dominated by concern. Rightfully so, you should think, from having practically flung you across the room. Still, it was clear that he hadn’t meant to launch you into the wall-a minor comfort in contrast to the dawning understanding that you had been so foolish. You were a traitor to your people. You were in love with a Sith. 

“Mom! Mom, please! I-I-I’m sorry! I-I didn’t mean to-to throw you. I was just, just angry and I don’t know what happened. Mom?” You were brought back to reality by the frantic shaking of your shoulders, the stinging in your lower back, and the throbbing of your head. Not to mention the downright terrified tremor in Wild’s voice. Your eyes flickered open. Panicked saffron met your unfocused e/c. “Mom!” Wild exclaimed and launched forward, arms wrapping around your neck. 

“Sweetpea, what happened?” You kept your voice quiet as you returned your son’s panicked hug. It was a little awkward given your current seating against a box on the floor but you voiced no complaint. 

The boy pulled back and your heart broke at the sight of tears gathering in his eyes. “I-I don’t know! I just...I just got really mad and-and I wanted to...I don’t even know what I wanted and I just was going to push you like you’d been doing but-but...I threw you and you weren’t waking up!” Wild explained in a shaky voice that you could barely understand, chest heaving with barely restrained distress. 

Thinking quickly, you placed one hand on his shoulder and the other went to cup the side of his face. “Hey, look at me.” You commanded in a very soft voice and an imperceptible tug to focus your son on you. “I’m alright. I’m not hurt.” You continued slowly, trying to convey that you weren’t angry or even injured. Sure, your back stung from the impact and it appeared as though it had triggered an unwanted trip back to an unpleasant memory but you knew it wasn’t Wild’s fault. “You did not hurt me, Wild.” You reassured once more whilst maintaining eye contact with the young boy. He sniffled and blinked and the gathered tears finally fell. “It wasn’t your fault, sweetpea.” You continued, now carefully wiping the tears away. Wild now refused to meet your eye but you pressed on. “And I don’t blame you. Accidents happen-I can’t tell you how many times I accidentally shoved your father when we’d spar.” He looked up at that and you sent him a smile, happy to see the curious glint replacing his previous sadness. 

“Really?” He questioned in a tiny voice. You smiled a little wider-you knew you were somewhat playing into his original trap but this felt like a tidbit you could spare to tell. 

“Yeah, he was always trying to teach me how to be more aggressive-in regards to dueling, mind you-and...I may or may not have gotten carried away a few times.” A wistful look darted across your face. “If he were here, he’d be embarrassed about how many trees I launched him into.” 

“Trees?” Wild was brightening up now. 

“Oh yes, we had a special planet we’d meet on-one far out of the Jedi’s range where we could just...be us. For a little while anyways.” You sighed. Us. “It was a beautiful planet, Wild, with lush forests and countless caves filled with glittering jewels. And the most gorgeous waterfalls I’d ever seen.” You could see it now, the planet you hadn’t dared to return to. You’d gone everywhere else alone and with Wild but that damned planet. “We met in the same spot every time-in the clearing where we’d met and we’d go running off to explore...we’d find a lake to spar next to and…” a giggle escaped you at a vague memory of Maul’s first reaction to swimming, “and I’d teach him to swim sometimes too.” 

Wild laughed with you, more so out of shock that reminiscence. “He didn’t know how to swim?” 

You shook your head. “He was from here, Wild. Dathomir’s not known for its swimming holes.” You explained with a comical lift of your eyebrows at the boy. “Anyways, in exchange I guess he’d teach me how to fight like him. And that meant I had to learn how to channel my anger. That meant I accidentally threw him a couple of times. It’s something you’ll learn too and if I must, I will gladly be your test dummy.” Wild huffed a laugh through his nose and you patted his face, pleased to see him calming down. You fell quiet for a moment as you observed the little lift of Wild’s smile and the scrunch of his nose that always followed a laugh. It was your smile on Maul’s face. Wild had Maul’s eye color but your eye shape. Your nose but the slight scrunch Maul would do when he spoke or smiled. He really was the perfect combination of you both even if your attributes were subtler. Wild was determined, intelligent, and protective. He was thoughtful but action-oriented as well. Calculated but not heartless. “Force, you’re so much like him.” You finally broke, not even aware that the thought had escaped you. 

“Like who?” Wild asked with a slight tilt of his head-an action no doubt learned from you. Curiosity seemed to radiate from him but also an underlying keenness that told you he knew exactly who you were referring too. Clever-another one to add to the growing list. 

“Your father, Wild...I...I wish he’d gotten to know you.” 

“Y/n…” Maul seethed, his voice ringing in your ears though it was barely above a whisper as he stalked closer to you. His lightsaber...or rather half of his lightsaber still grasped in his hand. 

You were running towards him despite the short gap between you and crashing into his chest before you knew it. “I know, Maul, I know.” Your voice was choppy, form shaky, as you wrapped your trembling arms around his torso. His hand fell on your shoulder-not quite returning the sudden embrace but gripping hard enough to make it clear he had you. “I know I shouldn’t have come-I should’ve run away as soon as that damn door opened. I’m sorry.” The zabrak was silent as his lightsaber hummed close to your ear. You continued to press your face into his robes, not acknowledging the heat close to your head. Eventually, Maul took a deep breath and released it in a sigh as he sheathed his weapon. His arms wrapped around you-one on your waist while his other brought his hand to the back of your head. 

Maul pressed his face to your hair and you could feel his lips move as he spoke. “It’s alright, my light. I know.” The sound of him so gentle and understanding nearly brought you to your knees. This was your Maul-not whoever he was mere minutes ago as he battled your fellow padawan...Obi Wan...you didn’t dare let your mind dwell on the fate of him. 

You held each other for a moment more, the world around you slipping away, until you became overtly aware of how your stomach brushed against his. Your baby...you had to tell him now. You pulled back till you could look him in the eyes, saffron surrounded by a ring of vermillion meeting with your e/c. “Maul, I have to tell you something.” 

“He...he would’ve loved you.” You were ashamed of the way your voice broke at the admission. He would have loved Wild-that much you were certain of-if he he had gotten the chance to know him. But would either have that opportunity now? If Mother Talzin was successful in restoring Maul, would he be the same? You knew that you’d changed over the years-you’d had to for both your son’s and your own survival-but what would Maul be like? Your husband or the Sith Lord?...You supposed your distinguishing between the two the last time you’d described his father had not been unprecedented. With a deep breath in to steady yourself, you returned your attention to your son. “He would have taught you so much more. I wish you could meet him, Wild.” But...I don’t know if the Maul you meet will be the one I fell in love with. 

“Mom, you...you don’t have to talk about Dad if it’s too painful.” Wild’s barely audible voice brought your attention back to the present. 

“No....” Your voice was firmer than you’d expected it to be which took both you and your son aback. “No,” you tried again in a softer tone, “you...you deserve to know everything.” With a nervous swallow you continued. “Whatever you want to ask...I will answer.” There was no going back now. If the Maul that returned wasn’t the Maul you had known then maybe you could give Wild a chance to know his father through you. 

Wild gaped at you for a few seconds, your offer not quite computing. “...Are...you’re serious?” He asked skeptically with wide eyes. “Actually serious?” Your only reply was a nod as you let your hands fall to your sides and you shifted to sit on your knees. He was quiet for a moment longer as the gears turned in his head-most likely searching for the right first question. “Where did Dad die?” 

You swallowed again to stifle the panic. “...he...he didn’t.” Wild’s eyes widened a little further as shock overtook his face. “I...lost him on Naboo.” You scrambled to elaborate as your son fell completely silent. You weren’t even sure if he was breathing. “I thought he died but...when Savage found us...he told me that he had been sent to find him. He wanted me to help locate your father. I told him that I watched him die on Naboo.” 

“What was he doing on Naboo?” Wild finally spoke after another beat had passed. 

“He was...helping enforce the blockade.” You knew you were being vague but Wild was going to draw his own conclusions soon. 

“The blockade?” He emphasised, referring to the blockade you’d told him Darth Maul had overseen. “What...why?” 

“His master had instructed him to.” 

“His master? So...Darth...did Dad work with the Sith?��

He was getting closer, that was for sure. “...Yes.” 

“Was...was Darth Maul his master?” 

“...No.” 

“Then...I don’t know what that means.” Wild admitted, retreating inwards to mull over the newly divulged information. 

With another sigh, you closed your eyes in an internal debate of whether or not you provided him with what could possibly be the key clue your son needed. It was a short lived debate though. “Peace is a lie, there is only passion.” You began to recall the mantra Maul had often recited to you when teaching you how to channel your own anger. “Through passion, I gain strength.” Your eyes began to sting behind your eyelids as tears of your own began to form. “Through strength, I gain power.” There was a shift-not only in the cargo hold or between you and your son but it felt like a great power was being awoken all over the red bathed planet. “Through power, I gain victory.” It shifted again, growing stronger, angrier, darker. “Through victory, my chains are broken.” The chains...the chains are the easy part...it’s what goes on in here that’s hard. Those words-some of the first coherent thoughts to spill from Maul upon you and Savage finding him suddenly rang throughout your head. What went on in Maul’s head would certainly prove the most difficult part to understand, that you were certain of. It had taken you months to even get a read on his personality when you were young. It had taken months for him to accept his feelings for you and even longer for him to accept that you returned them. It had taken years for the two of you to decide that spending the rest of your lives together was the right course of action and months for the Force to grant you one physical piece of evidence to prove the validity of your relationship. The Force had given you Wild and the promise of a life with Maul...and almost all of it had been taken away in an instant. Your lives bound to the will of the Force by chains too thick to break. “The Force shall free me.” You opened your eyes and let your gaze fall on Wild. He was staring at you with a mixture of confusion and undeniable curiosity. 

“What...what was that?” He asked in a tiny voice. 

“The code of the Sith.” You answered immediately, the words falling freely from you now. 

“Why do you know that…?” 

“A Sith taught it to me.” 

“Who?” 

You blinked. He was so close to figuring it out. “I have only ever met one Sith, Wild.” 

“...” He said nothing, his gaze moving away from you to gaze out of the cargo hold at the red bathed planet. Wild’s jaw was tense, his hands anxiously clenching into fists only to unclench a moment later, and his eyes frantically darted from side to side as though watching a battle before him. “What…,” he turned to you, “was Dad’s name?” 

Finally. You closed your eyes once more to prepare yourself for whatever was about to come. You only spoke once you opened your eyes. “Mau-” A searing pain tore through your abdomen, cutting you off in an instant. Screams clawed from your throat at the sudden sensation that felt not unlike a heated knife being stuck into the flesh above your hips and around your torso. You fell to your side, hands snaking around your lower stomach. 

“What is it, Y/n?” Maul questioned, picking up on the urgent tone in your voice immediately. His hands retracted from around you to take a firm hold on your forearms. 

Unable to fight the smile that clawed itself over your face, you turned your hands over to also grasp his arms, anchoring both of you in that moment. “Maul, my love, I’m-” He stiffened, eyes locking on something above your head. With a harsh shove he sent you to the floor as his hand shot for his lightsaber. 

It happened in a blur-a flash of green, a choked breath, and the worst pain you’d ever felt tearing its way across your lower abdomen. It was the worst moment of your life-your love and your connection to him being severed in one fell swoop from Obi Wan Kenobi. You didn’t know if you screamed or cried. You didn’t know if you did anything else besides watch as Maul fell away, lost to some unimportant reactor shaft on Naboo. A death so unbefitting a man of such power it almost felt poetic. Unjustly poetic. Was this some form of punishment? You knew you grabbed his lightsaber, clinging to it as you prayed for death to take you as well. If the Force should decree for you to suffer a fate worse than death than it would lose you to it as well. 

But you were stopped. Two hands pulled you away, you were led back to the council to await a different fate unknown to you. The last touch of your love seared into your skin as was the pain of his fatal wound. 

You opened your eyes, vaguely aware of the mutterings falling from you and the cold press on your forehead. There was a firm grip on your hand and a warm weight pressed into your side. “Through victory, my chains are broken. The Force shall free me.” Your voice mixed with another’s graced your ears-the mantra of the Sith being repeated over and over as the pain in your abdomen began to fade till none remained. You sat up and immediately wrapped Wild in a hug. His muttering stopped to be replaced by yours. “Wild, I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” You kept repeating it as your son clung to you. 

“What happened?” He gasped out, grip like iron as he latched onto your arms. 

“Maul.” You brought him up to eye level. “Maul’s back.” You exclaimed, already able to feel the familiar turbulent presence of your husband. “He’s back.” You began to struggle to your feet, shaky and weak as they may be. 

“Mom, calm down-you’re injured.” Wild tried to drag you back down but you pulled your hand away from him. 

“No, I’m not. I’m fine. Wild, we need to go. Please. He’s back.” You tried, already doing your best to march out of the cargo hold.

“Mom, hold on. What are you talking about?” 

“Maul. I told you. Come on!” You were insistent, being pulled out of the ship by that commanding presence. 

“Not until you tell me what my dad’s name was!” You stopped short, realization dawning on you. 

Before anything could be said, a clinking sound echoed in from outside the ship causing you both to freeze. Wild immediately dropped into a defensive position, calling your blue lightsaber to him. You closed your eyes again, trying to sense what was going on. Maul’s presence was overwhelming-it crashed into you like a wall of water freshly freed from a dam. His signature was one so powerful and tumultuous that you had had little else to liken it to over the years. Where your connection with Wild was quieter and warm, the one to Maul was fiery and deceptively silent, threatening to burn you if you held onto it for too long. Force, you’d missed it. You stepped forward, eyes flying open as you did so and focused on your own presence-trying to amplify it for Maul. You had to know if he was the same man. The clinking stopped. His signature changed-a blinding glow forming to accompany the wrathful haze that always surrounded him. The clinking resumed, faster now as Maul grew closer to the ship. 

You broke out in a run, darting out of the ship before Wild’s startled cry could meet your ears and rounding around the wing of it. You stopped the same time the clinking did as before you stood a red zabrak, standing a little warily on his robotic legs, whose head was crowned with ivory horns and whose eyes burned with light brighter than any star. “Maul…” You breathed out. 

He straightened up, confused scowl falling away, as he spoke with a voice that rumbled like distant thunder. “My light…” 

…………………………………………………..

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#darth maul x reader #darth maul x you #darth maul #clone wars #star wars: clone wars #tcw #darth maul x y/n #star wars

[artsy0wl]

Maul: A Broken Evil Retrospective

On a Star Wars Amino I’m in, I had made an introspective on why I feel that Maul, while he is a villain is not whole heartedly evil, but broken.  I took from said Amino post, with a few needed edit tweaks.

Chaotic Evil

Of course given the fact he was a Sith and some of the decisions he’s made, I don’t completely want to negate that in this discussion. If we were to use the alignment chart (lawful good, true neutral, chaotic evil, etc), he would probably fit best in Neutral Evil. From my understanding, Maul would fit Neutral Evil as a lot if what he does has to do with benefiting himself. Even if that means using allies (i.e. Ezra initially) and potentially betraying them (i.e. blinding Kanan once the Inquisitors were dealt with). He’ll follow things as he needs and can be calculating when he needs (like his take over of Mandalore). He’s not spontaneous enough or lacks enough restraint to be Chaotic Evil (like the Joker for instance), nor is he as calculating and “lawful” to be Lawful Evil (like say Thrawn and/or Palpatine). With that said, I’d agree that Maul has a darkness/evil in him considering all of the things he’s done. Obviously, he’s not winning any hero points by killing people like Qui Gon and Satine or blinding and attempting to kill Kanan. 

Onto why I feel he’s broken.

Palpatine: Taken From a Young Age and Molded into what Sidious Wanted

Whether it be Talzin offering Maul as a child in Canon or his mother giving Palpatine Maul as a baby in Legends (Darth Plagueis), Maul was caught in a situation that he really didn’t have much control over. Granted, his life may not have been much better on Dathomir, given how the Nightsisters used their male counterparts, but there’s no telling what kind of life he could have had, had he not been handed over to Palpatine. Maul was molded into a weapon as Darth Sidious’ apprentice. And Maul spent most of his younger years being molded into what Sidious wants. Only to be “cast aside” when he is presumed dead. With Sidious being his only form of human contact/interaction, it’s fair to say that Maul feels a level of rejection/abandonment by the only person he had a bond with.

However, rather than having a level of depression because of it, he’s angry about it. For him that seems to be a common response, along with hatred and arrogance (the latter of which was used to explain how he survived the Phantom Menace). Sidious created a weapon out of Maul. And with that, a character with no real coping mechanism or knowing how to let things go.

A lot of, if not all of, Maul’s issues can be linked back to Sidious in some way. Sidious isn’t exactly Mentor of the Year material. Especially with Maul.  Though that could be chopped up to him being a Sith and very manipulative.  He wasn’t the kindest person to the Zabrak pre or post Phantom Menace (both in canon and Legends). Either way, a lot of Maul’s issues are a direct result of Palpatine’s involvement in his life.

If it weren’t for Sidious, Maul would have a normal life (or whatever that would equate to on Dathomir). He would have had his family, would have been more level headed and maybe less cocky, and he wouldn’t have enraged abandonment issues. The amount of grief, trauma, and hatred would be vastly different

Family: He Lost a Brother and a Mother

Let’s be real, thanks to Sidious, Maul’s lost a brother and a mother (two brothers when you count Feral, though he never got to meet him). By the time Savage came around in Clone Wars, we got to see Maul sort of build his character more than say the Phantom Menace (the novels did too, but I can’t say that everyone’s read them). We also get to see Maul exhibit more emotion where, again, the movie lacks as well as the introduction of his family, Mother Talzin, Feral, and Savage. And while Maul may not have been what you’d call an “affectionate” brother, he does care for Savage to the best of his ability.

Their deaths still haunted him years after the events of the Prequel Trilogy and Clone Wars. These deaths stuck with him psychologically to the point that he is still effected by it in Rebels. Which in turn, may have contributed some to him wanting Ezra as an apprentice (among other factors).

Torture After Loss

In Son of Dathomir after Maul tries to get back at Sidious, he is captured after his last battle with Sidious in Clone Wars (season 5). It starts off with Maul being interrogated and tortured by Sidious. He makes it through without faltering and escapes with the help of the Shadow Collective. That being said, we never really get to see where his mindset is. During Son of Dathomir, he gets a lot done, capturing Dooku and Grievous (taunting Sidious and working with Dooku to fight Obi Wan and a few other Jedi before escaping). However, we don’t get to see the mental toll Savage’s death here. Though with everything going on, I guess there wasn’t time.

Now the reason I bring this up, is because part of me felt like I should and the timing. Prior to Son of Dathomir, Maul had recently lost Savage. At the end, he loses his mother. The torture and the scheming in between shows how he didn’t catch a break. And while he was able to stay strong when he had to, they never really explored how the torture effected him, which one would think he would have been.

Obsession, Insanity, Arrogance: Maul’s Faults

I do feel like I address this point. I’ve already kind of touched on his anger and arrogance (synonymously with cockiness). While training Maul, Sidious didn’t consider how arrogant he had let the Zabrak become (according to Darth Plagueis, the novel). This has Maul’s Achilles Heel since the Phantom Menace. While having a healthy dose of pride never hurt anyone, a healthy dose, Maul dose not possess.

His obsession with getting Obi Wan and Sidious is another issue. This really only pops up after his apparent death in Phantom Menace. Because after that point, Maul finds out that he was replaced by Sidious (with Dooku) and that he was bested by a mere Padawan (Obi Wan). I feel like this obsessive tendency is a combination of his feelings of abandonment and having his ego damaged.

And of course, I feel like Maul’s roughly decade long battle with insanity really didn’t help his psyche. While his sanity was restored thanks to Mother Talzin and Savage, I do feel like that’s caused more harm than good. Something like that had to feel draining after getting his sanity restored. He was sitting on a trash planet and on his own. Along with not having anything from the waist down and forced to manage with what he had. Hatred may have helped keep him alive, but his psyche during those ten years didn’t.

He has a lot of internal conflict in an emotional and mental sense. Unfortunately, these negative emotions, obsession and pride especially, cause him more harm than good.

The Ezra Bond: Feeling a Need to Replicate a Connection, Even if He Approaches it Incorrectly

By the time Rebels rolls around, Maul is older and calmer (though still proud). Obviously, he still wants to get back at the Empire for what they (more specifically Sidious) did to him. And at first, Ezra seemed like someone that he could use. This is an element that is prevalent, however, not the only aspect of their relationship.

According to Sam Witwer, Maul’s VA, Maul did have a (platonic) fondness for Ezra. And on top of wanting to make Ezra his apprentice, Maul wanted to emulate a sense of brotherhood between him and Ezra. For example, his phrase in Visions and Voices when Maul says “...We can walk that path together. As friends. As brothers.” How he said it shows how he does miss Savage and wants that family back.

That being said, how he approached this connection could be seen as manipulative and more than likely one sided.  Sure, over the course of Twilight of the Apprentice, Ezra grows on Maul, to the point where Maul wants to make him his apprentice and has an appreciation for Ezra. However, his pride and lack of planning cause a rift between them and there was a lot of mistrust on Ezra’s part, not that one could blame him.

Subsequent episodes show that Maul is hellbent on making Ezra his apprentice through any means possible. 

Maul lost Savage and Talzin, and Ezra was one of the first few people to trust him in years.  I think it’s safe to say that, in Maul’s mind, Ezra gave him a sense of belonging or connection.

Maul’s need for a connection could be interpreted as him trying to find something good in life. However, manipulative tendencies and how he was brought up, hinder him doing that in a healthy and positive way. With Savage, he didn’t need to do anything as they both had a similar plan when they met (Savage being indoctrinated into the ways of the Sith). But subsequent relationships (i.e. Ezra), Maul is at a bit of a disadvantage emotionally and morally. 

Sure, he could relate to Ezra since they both lost people they care for because of the Empire (and by extent Sidious), but manipulation and harming Ezra’s allies hinder a smoother connection. Even if a force bond was eventually made. Ezra, arguably, could have been what he needed for what he wanted and a possible change/redemption/blank slate only for things not to entirely go as plan.

Could Maul Have Something Along the Lines of PTSD?

Now, I could do a mini theory about this as I’ve speculated that with another character before. It’d be an interesting way to look at Maul’s psychology. It’s one last little avenue I thought I’d address before closing this post out. Of course, it’s worth noting that I am not a Psychology major (as interesting as psychology is). I have, however, done some research.

I do believe that Maul, to some degree, may have PTSD. But instead of exhibiting panic/anxiety, depression or easily startled, Maul has more aggressive tendencies and is easy to anger. He still lives with the trauma of the death of his brother (and mother) and flashbacks of that and other events in his life, I’m sure he’d be effected by.

Conclusion

In conclusion, while I certainly think that Maul is no hero, his life experiences certainly effected what kind of person he became. Being raised as a weapon, abandoned, and tortured would bring any normal person way down. And because that was all Maul knew, I don’t think that entirely means he’s evil. Rather, he’s a character who’s been used and abused to the point that he’s mentally and psychologically broken. Unfortunately, that effects his life in ways that make him arrogant, hateful and obsessive. And when he tries to build bonds later in life, he doesn’t know how to in a way that, while laced in trauma, has manipulative and one sided undertones.

That being said, I feel like I should round out this introspective with a little positive. While he’s definitely been through a lot, Maul is pretty resilient all things considered. He’s cheated death and managed to live through a lot of abuse. The fact that he could keep bouncing back shows just hoe resilient and determined the character is.

#Darth Maul #Star Wars #Rebels #Clone Wars #Movies #Retrospective #Theory #Speculation #Discussion #PTSD? #Chaotic Evil #Maul #Star Wars Rebels #Star Wars Clone Wars #Zabrak #Prequel Trilogy

[justalittletomato]

another soft sunday  ramble trip with dad!maul , uncle! Savage and baby tomato

Summary: The three go on a “mission to Dathomir” for mushlings and to say hello to one of their own. 

It’s still dark out when the three venture out.

Cress slumbers in his tiny crib as his mother gently wishes him safety on his journey. She presses tiny kisses to his face causing the little one to coo and purr. His Starlight places another soft star plush into the crib and gives the baby one last gentle smile, “ Make sure he stays warm, you know he hates the cold.” She doesn’t need to remind him Maul knows this well, it's not everyday your baby leaves on his first “mission”.

He doesn’t mention he has stashed more blankets on the ship and maybe more supplies than they need for Cress, he doesn’t want to come unprepared.  

Maul watches as she hesitates, she’s worried. Dathomir is not a pleasant place, too many things have happened there. But  at only 3 months he was already overdue for his markings. Her son was a child of two worlds, she wanted him to know them both.  

Savage had been the one to mention it, a tradition that was often done as soon as a child was born. His Starlight was not the one who needed convincing to give Cress any markings, but Maul knew that it would call for a journey to his home world, thier home world.

He never saw himself returning to that place, he had been stolen, brought back in a state of madness and then leaving with only revenge on his mind.

Savage had lived his life there, if it was much of a life, as cast away nightborther or slave to a night sister. They were trained to become warriors and received no thanks. Left to fight another when a night sister willed it and controlled them. It was not a pleasant place.

Yet, there were the brothers he had grown with there, the boys he had fought with and told stories with when the elders had sent them to bed. Whispered back and forth about what was up in the sky away from Dathomir’s red mists.

He had once promised Feral that they would get to see it.

Feral, the brother Maul never met and uncle Cress lost long before he was born. Maybe on this journey they would at least get to visit where thier  brother now rested and get to tell Cress all about him.

They would get to share about the new life they had and the places they had visited, how Savage had found thier lost brother. The palace on Mandalore and the wonderful sister they now had. Oh and best of all the little Nephew they shared! A nephew that was adored to no end by all of his family, and Feral if you had seen how his mother loves him, did you know a mother could do that?

Maul’s Starlight sees Savage looking up at the sky, and hugs  him, “ He would have loved him” Savage would likely mention. “ He would have loved you both.”

Maul kisses his Starlight one last time and promises to be back soon with… What did you call them Savage? Mushlings? Yes Mushlings.

There’s no pull to the planet, just a sense of bittersweetness. Cress has woken up and fussy as Maul picks him up, “ Look little Star, that is Dathomir. Your uncles and I were born here.”

Cress coos at the sight. Savage chuckles, “ He probably just likes it because its as red as he is,”

“Its a good color.” Maul retorts.

Savage avoids landing anywhere near the mists, he settles for the village where he had grown up, where they had grown up. Maul immediately  scowls, “ Snow. “

Maul does not want Cress getting cold, he bundles up Cress who is delighted to snuggle up against his father’s chest in his little wrap.

Savage shakes his head. Maul wont be able to have Cress like that when they venture out. The crib will have to come, the floating pod follows them out.

It was expected that they’d bring attention to themselves, but they didn’t expect all the Nightbrothers to gather about. Immediately there is shouts of surprise and elation, their brother had returned!?

Savage is immediately bombarded by both Nightbrothers young and old hugging him tight.

Maul stands back, and huddles Cress closer, he is an outsider here. Even among his own.

A curious little Nightbrother notices him and points, “ And who is that?”

Savage smiles, “ My brother. I found him at last, this was the Nightbrother stolen from us long ago, this is my brother Maul. And the little one is Cress, my nephew”

They note Maul not wanting to get closer and they don’t crowd him, there’s a gentle hum of welcomes and little ones who want to see the baby. It has been some time since a baby had made its way here.

“He’s red like you. We never see red. Its rare. Very rare. Pretty baby.  He has no markings. why does he not have any?”

Maul is unsure how to answer, and little Cress is just elated at the attention.

It is the elder named Viscus who has them settle down, “ Maul was taken as a child, he couldn't have known.”

He gives the red Zabrak a sympathetic smile Maul is unsure what to make of it or also the strange feeling that the elder Zabrak slightly resembled him. He shakes the idea out of his head. “ It's is wonderful that you have brought the child to partake in the tradition. And to see that you two are together to raise him, many are not so luckily it has been so long since we have seen added a new Nightbrother. “

Maul does not pry more into what he meant, so he correct Viscus, “ My wife, she didn’t join us in this journey is to thank as well, “

A mother. the children ask, we know of Mother Talzin she’s scary.

Savage clarifies, “ The child’s mother is human. it is different.”

There’s not equivalent here. “She loved him the moment she learned she was expecting him. She hums him lullabies and soothes his tears. She makes sure he is always safe and warm”

“ she sounds nice. Lucky little Cress. A human mother sounds wonderful”

The two go quiet at what the children say.

All the while tiny Cress reaches out a hand to Viscus and coos.

The elder looks to Maul, who nods. “ you are quite the blessed child, Cress,” he gently squeezes the tiny hand. Cress laughs and Maul feels a swell of pride at Viscus’s comment.

The brothers are taken to the sight of the Mushlings, an odd plant only grown here, they are gathered, the pods leaving black marks that take time to fade. Cress got hold of one and smudged his cheeks. Maul hissed, “Cress do you want to get Daddy in trouble?” his baby merely laughs and smudges some on his father’s face as well.

Savage laughs and is promptly smudged as well. The three laugh at the sight of  another and pack away the mushlings for later.

There is one last place to visit.

Feral is buried by the cliffs, another trove of mushlings grow here, they are left to freely grow and spread.

Savage kneels down, “Hello brother. I’m home. We're all home. This is Maul and Cress, our brother and nephew. “

Maul kneels next to him and Cress coos, the bonds around him quieted.

It is time to listen.

“I’ve missed you brother. So much has changed. I was able to leave, I found our brother. We have a new home now. Mandalore, you would have loved it. There’s a garden and its so open and different from the village. “ he pauses “Brother we have a sister now, she’s a bit of a nuisance at times. “

Maul frowns.

 “ But she is kind, and wonderful. She loves us both, well Maul more, actually Cress more... it's a different sort of love. Brother, she would have loved you. Feral you would have adored her, she pesters as much as you. and Maul, he’s what you expect of an older brother, he bosses you about but he cares. He’s “a bit” rough and dramatic but you get used to it, but when he’s with his Starlight and his Star you should see how gentle he can be with them. “ Maul doesn’t get upset, he just sits quietly and listens as his brother continues through tears. 

“ Oh, and Cress, you should have met him. He’s the most precious thing. He smiles at you like you're the sun. He will have the most wonderful life….but he wont have you…he should have…you would  have loved him…” his voice breaks as a new onslaught of tears fall.

Cress whimpers as he feels the sadness, he reaches out and Maul brings him closer to Savage, who cradles  his tiny nephew. “ He’s a very caring child,” Maul says. “ I would have loved if you met him. I am sorry I never got the chance Brother, but we promise Cress will never suffer as we had. We swear. “

The sun on Dathomir begins to set and the bothers know why this spot was chosen as thier brother’s resting place, as the sun sets the red sky is tinged in a  spectrum of colors, reds oranges yellows and pinks on the snow. A perfect place to rest.

#maul #darth maul #savage opress #savage #dad!maul #feral #baby tomato #dathomir #nightbrothers #zabraks #zabrak oc #darth maul x reader #maul x reader #Cress #star wars #star wars fanfic #as you can tell I dont like Talzin much #What is cloud implying about Viscus #cloudsdrabbles

[doorsclosingslowly]

snippet time

warnings: mention of past genocide, minor self-harm for religious purposes, fantasy racism, suicidal ideation

this is way more harmless than it sounds though!

Maul is humming discordantly while he slices open a vac-sealed packet of meat and deposits it in a porcelain bowl. He pulls a vibroknife from somewhere inside his black shirt—a movement that’s so quick Finn can’t follow—and pricks his little finger. It hurts—Finn feels his pain shiver in the air, more present and alive than the stones were, but it’s not… not pain in his finger, but an old and festering ache. A few drops of blood drip onto the meat, and Maul, satisfied, picks up the bowl and places it on a head-height inbuilt storage board, and pulls down another bowl just like it, only the meat inside is green with mold.

Even though he didn’t look at Finn at all, somehow Maul knows that Finn was watching him. “A Dathomiri mourning custom,” he explains, and—

Dathomir. The eradication of Dathomir. An officer-track class on military campaigns of the emerging Empire, and one session therein about the frankly terrifying number of species hunted to destruction and planets razed to uninhabitability and, in Alderaan’s case, completely annihilated. Dathomir was a footnote, but Finn reads footnotes, and so he remembers—there was no information as to why, no false legitimation, and barely more in terms of information on the planet before its demise. Inhabited by a degenerated subspecies of zabrak, the file said, but the Order loves calling people degenerate. Something about alien species who settle on a planet they didn’t evolve on losing their innate racial characteristics or whatever was the explanation, justification for persecuting basically any non-human, and who cares anyway, it’s all bullshit. Except for the fact of the genocide.

“You’re a zabrak from Dathomir? Sorry for asking if it’s to personal, Mas—Maul.”

“A nightbrother,” Maul says softly. “The final son of Dathomir.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s done. There is no mercy or relief for the weak. And they were weak.”

It’s a bleak and callous way to see it, but if Finn’s entire family was murdered and his planet was destroyed—to be fair, that might very well have happened, who knows what the Order did after taking him… Anyway, if Finn had lost everyone, maybe he’d also lose his faith in the world. It makes more and more sense, that the Jedi was so hidden neither the Empire nor the Order managed to kill him. A blow like that—it led to Skywalker going into exile, too.

Horrifying as it may be what this Jedi had to live through—something deep within Finn unclenches. Of course, a Jedi wouldn’t work with the First Order, the Resistance worships the Jedi and it can’t be for no reason, but… Before Skywalker, the only Jedi that Finn knew was Kylo Ren. Ren, who’s not a Jedi, though by a metric no-one’s ever satisfactorily explained to Finn. Ren kills with his lightsaber. He tortures with his mind. He can sniff out traitorous thoughts, troopers whispered amongst themselves and then threw metal scraps into the air-vents to ask the ship to conceal their words from him. Sound like a Jedi, except evil. And if the difference between a Jedi who won’t give him up to the First Order, and a not-Jedi who might, is just evilness, well, how is Finn to find a solid foundation for trust?

Genocide is more solid than the hardest diamond grinder. Maul wouldn’t join the people trying to revive the Empire that murdered his family. He’s mourning them still. (Finn did. Finn fought for the people who tore him from his parents’ arms and probably exterminated everybody there over the age of three, but. He didn’t think about it then. He didn’t think about family at all, was never taught how to, and now he’s learned how to wonder who they were, he’ll eat a blaster before he goes back.)

#this is like. the slowburn version of gen #luckily finn is good at conjecturing because they'll start having frank discussions about child soldiering etc in like pt 4 or 5 #finn and maul's excellent adventure

[mangobilorian]

roll over | (gen)

Pairing: Feral & Wolffe

Genre: Fluff

Words: 2875

Summary: “Kriffing hell, I can’t deal with this,” he mutters. Out of everything the Zabrak could do to cause trouble, he chooses to become a toddler. Wolffe glares at the kid, and Feral’s eyes grow wide. Then he starts to cry.

Or: Wolffe learns his greatest weaknesses are Dathomirians, Plo Koon, and snuggles.

Wolffe trusts his general. He can’t count how many times General Koon saved his life. From fighting in the battlefield to advocating for Wolffe to stay by his side, the Jedi has been there for him like no one else—aside from his brothers. So Wolffe trusts Plo’s judgement even if he disagrees with it. But he has to put his foot down before he reaches his breaking point, and the addition of a Nightbrother to the Wolfpack is enough cause for Wolffe to slam his plastoid covered foot down with all the force of a Zillo Beast.

Plo found the boy by accident. Well… found was an understatement. The Republic had sent the 104th to Dathomir for more information about Maul and Savage. The place freaked him out more than it should have. Who can blame him? It’s said that Ventress was born on Dathomir, and anything to do with that assassin sends streaks of rage and fear through Wolffe.

Thankfully, everything went well with Mother Talzin, but as they were about to depart, Wolffe got a sinking feeling. No one could find his General—which shouldn’t have been hard since the man is a Kel Dor —and two hours later, there was still no sign of him.

Until Plo ran towards the ship with an unconscious Zabrak in his arms, Mother Talzin screaming behind him. Wolffe understood immediately, so the Wolfpack readied the ship, and they flew off before the scary witch caught them. She screamed something along the lines of, “I will curse all of you!” But Wolffe didn’t worry about that.

After providing food and basic medical needs to the Zabrak, Plo sat the Wolfpack down to explain the situation. Wolffe knew what to expect. Plo was going to tell them that he found the boy in need of help, and Plo was the only one who could provide. So Plo just had to stage a rescue for the boy and escape the witch, putting himself and his men in danger. Wolffe is only slightly miffed. The same situation occurred many times before, so what was one other rescue? But no, this Zabrak—Feral—is force sensitive . Which is great. For Plo and no one else.  

“Wolffe, this boy will remain on the ship until he recovers. Then I will train him.” Wolffe scowls. The General leans against a wall, arms crossed. He looks too relaxed, too calm for Wolffe’s liking.

“Sorry, sir, but that boy is the brother of two Sith lords. If they find out we captured him, they’ll be on our asses.” Wolffe understands Plo’s undying paternal obligation to anything and everything. But Wolffe will not let Plo’s feelings get in the way of everyone’s safety. He’s lost too much to let a passing fancy harm anyone on board.

His general sighs. “He was abused, Wolffe. His neck was crushed then healed in the most painful way possible. If Maul and Savage cared for Feral, they would have rescued him themselves. And yet, we’re the ones who did. His Force signature is confused, scared, and hurt. That boy needs help, and I will provide it. Feral will stay on this ship.” And that’s an order , Wolffe finishes in his mind. Plo doesn’t like to command his men in the same capacity as other generals. He treats everyone like his own sons. Plo’s Bros , the Wolfpack calls themselves. It’s only on rare, important occasions where the hint of an order laces Plo’s voice. Unfortunately, this seems to be one such occasion.

“Unless, of course, you are truly uncomfortable with Feral. Say the word, and I will drop Feral off at a nearby med bay.” And with that statement, Wolffe is reminded of how nice his general is. The change from order to concern almost gives Wolffe whiplash. Plo makes his own decisions and expects Wolffe to back him up, but he also holds Wolffe’s opinion to a high regard—something that Wolffe feels he hasn’t truly earned.

Clones were supposed to give their life to the Republic and the Jedi, not to be nurtured and cared for. Yet, a High Councillor chose to keep Wolffe despite his disability. Wolffe begrudgingly admits that Plo’s paternal feelings have saved his and his brothers’ lives countless times.

In an effort to make his general happy, Wolffe acquiesces. “No, it’s fine, sir. He can stay. But if he causes trouble, he’s gone.” Wolffe knows Plo is smiling at him. Despite the mask covering his face and Plo’s lack of human lips, Wolffe knows. That di’kut is probably feeling smug because he got me to cave , the commander thinks.

Plo nods at him and heads off to tend to the injured Zabrak. Wolffe takes the time to clean his armor. In the corner, Boost and Sinker play sabacc. Comet watches idly, eyes already closing. Warthog sits in the cockpit, piloting away. This , Wolff thinks, is family. And no is going to harm them under my watch.  

An hour of calm coexistence passes. Plo had poked his head in to tell Wolffe that he was going to sleep in his anti-ox chamber. Comet and Sinker slept as well while Boost joined Wolffe in repainting his armor. They always keep gray paint and brushes on board for this exact reason. Every gray line serves as a reminder of all the men he lost, all the brothers who died—not in the midst of battle but in space, at the mercy of a superweapon and picked off by hunter droids. Gray is the mourning color for Mandalorians. And Wolffe will continue mourning long after the war ends—if it does.

A loud crash reverberates along the ship walls. Wolffe bolts to his feet, Boost right behind. Another thump and Wolffe deduces that it's coming from the spare room. Where the Zabrak is.

Wolffe signals for Boost to stay put, and he marches on. He’s down to his blacks, but he has enough sense to bring a blaster. He nudges the door open, blaster raised. Plo won’t forgive me for shooting his new stray . And the door swings wide to find… nothing. The only thing out of place is a knocked-over chair. The room is dark, but he should be able to see Feral.  

But there’s no sign of the yellow Nightbrother. Wolffe lowers his blaster. Where could that Zabrak be? Out of the corner of his eyes, he sees something glow. He raises the blaster again-

A small whimper escapes from the glowing eyed thing, and Feral steps out from the shadows. Except it’s not really Feral. Instead of the slim, injured Zabrak, a small version stands in his place.

“Feral?” Wolffe sets his weapon down on a nearby desk, still eyeing the child. He slowly sets the chair upright again. The kid leans into the wall and cradles his arms to his chest. “Kriffing hell, I can’t deal with this,” he mutters. Out of everything the Zabrak could do to cause trouble, he chooses to become a toddler . Wolffe glares at the kid, and Feral’s eyes grow wide. Then he starts to cry.

Feral’s cries aren’t loud. It’s quiet like he’s trying to keep it all in. He chokes on his own tears, holding a hand to his mouth to muffle the sounds. His shoulders quietly shake, and he leans further into the wall. He’s a sad, pathetic sight. Kriff, what would Plo think about the whole situation? He’d probably coo at the kid and be happy that he now has an actual child to spoil. But Plo is sleeping, and Wolffe doesn’t want to wake him. Plo barely rests enough as it is.

Wolffe doesn’t know what to do. It’s not like he’s trained in childcare. He’s probably the commander who’s least willing to approach a child— aside from Fox who almost ran over a Senator’s kid with a speeder bike; to this day, he claims that’s it an accident but Wolffe knows better. Even the clone cadets on Kamino don’t cry often because it’s better to act tough than look weak. They were probably programmed to not cry. Besides, he looks at his little brothers and sees the best soldiers in the galaxy instead of the children they are.

Feral continues to muffle his tears, and Wolffe asks himself one question. What would Plo do? Many answers come to mind, and Wolffe picks one that won’t damage his reputation.

He crouches down to the Feral’s eye level. “I’m sorry, kid. Didn’t mean to make you sad. I’m Wolffe.” Feral wipes his eyes with a grubby, trembling hand.

“Wuff?”  The commander snorts.

“Sure.” He holds a hand out, and the boy takes it. It’s wet from his tears, and Wolffe has to stop himself from cringing. He can deal with blood but a child’s tears and snot is something he doesn’t want to touch.

“Where brother Sava?” Feral peers up at him, gripping his hand. “Wanna Sava.” Kriff. Is Feral seriously asking for Sith Lord Savage Opress right now?

“Savage isn’t here.” That’s the wrong thing to say apparently because Feral bursts into tears. Only this time, they’re loud. “Shush, shush,” Wolffe says, trying to calm the boy down. The Wolfpack is search and rescue, so Wolffe knows some things about damage control. He pats the kid’s back, and Feral stops his tears after a while. “Umm, Savage is on a mission right now. He’s not here.”

“Brother Sava coming back?”

“Yeah, later.” Wolffe resists the urge to facepalm. He shouldn’t have told little Feral that Savage would arrive. Now the kid’s hopes are up, and he’ll cry when Savage doesn’t show up. Great.

“Wuff?” He grunts at the kid. “Food?”

“Oh you’re hungry, you little demon?” Feral’s face scrunches up at the insult but doesn’t say anything. Maybe he shouldn’t call the Zabrak a demon. The self esteem of a child can be damaged at a young age which could lead to insecurities later in life. He thinks. Wolffe isn’t sure how nat-born kids work.

“Sava give food. Wuff give food too?” The beady eyes of a hungry Feral stare at him. Wolffe can take the kid in a fight with one finger, but Feral looks absolutely predatory right now. Were all Zabrak kids… this scary?

“Fine,” he says, rolling his eyes. Wolffe picks the kid up and sets him on his bed. “Don’t move or no food.” Feral nods solemnly and places his hands in his lap. What an obedient kid. Wolffe hopes he stays that way.

The commander leaves the room, keeping the door ajar. He finds a ration bar and some water in a drawer. At least Warthog didn’t eat them all . There’s enough to last a few rotations, but it would be better to stop and pick up more supplies soon. They had to rendezvous with Cody soon and provide some supplies to the planet they finished securing. With Kenobi, Skywalker, and Ahsoka, the planet is much more damaged than the locals would like. So of course the Council is sending Wolffe to clean up the di-kut jetiise mess. Just as he’s about to exit the storage, Boost walks by.

“All-clear?” Wolffe debates telling Boost about baby Feral. Boost doesn’t show any contempt like Wolffe did for the Zabrak nor does he express the same happiness as Plo.

“Yeah. Go and sleep. You need it.” Boost salutes with a grin and stalks off to his bunk. Wolffe pockets the food and heads back to Feral’s room. He finds the boy in the same spot he left him in.

“Here you go,” Wolffe says and tosses the ration bar at Feral. His little fingers struggle to open the bar. After a few moments of Feral failing at ripping the packaging, Wolffe takes it from the boy and opens it himself.

“Thank you,” Feral whispers before chomping down. At least the kid has manners. Wolffe watches Feral’s face scrunch up at the taste of the rations.

“Not good, huh.” The Zabrak shakes his head.

“Dee-li-shous.” Wolffe scoffs. There’s no way the kid actually liked that stuff. He hands the water over once the kid finishes devouring the ration bar. They sit in silence, staring at each other. Wolffe doesn’t know what to do next. He’s fed the kid, but what now? Play time? He could always make the kid run a quick training circuit like all the clone cadets, but Wolffe has a hunch that nat-borns don’t jump out of bed and do a hundred pushups for fun.

“No horns.”

“What?” Feral points at Wolffe’s forehead.

“No horns. Weird eye.” He’d think it was an insult, but Feral seems genuinely curious. Maybe it’s the first time Feral—toddler or not—has seen someone who isn’t Dathomirian. He knew the planet is a bit more primitive and closed off, but Wolffe has the feeling that the people there don’t really get out much.

“I’m a clone. We don’t have horns. And I lost my eye in a fight against Asajj Ventress,” he shrugs. The event was so long ago that he doesn’t feel pure terror at the mention of her name. Besides, ladies love the eye. Feral’s mouth opened a tiny bit in awe.

“You wa-ree-or?” The kid looks amazed.

“Yeah. I’m a warrior.” Feral acts like a shiny. Every time the 104th get new troopers, they look at Wolffe with awe and fear. Even before the loss of his eye, he had a reputation for being scary. The shinies would straighten up and become quiet whenever Wolffe was around. Especially since the exploits of his Kel Dor General were nothing short of legend. Him and Plo make quite the intimidating pair.

“Like brother Sava,” Feral grins. As if Wolffe is anything like the Sith Lord. He wonders if Feral even knew Maul existed.

“Sure.” Wolffe expects the conversation to end there, but Feral reaches out to him with a grubby hand.

“Sava tuck me in bed. Wuff tuck me too?” Wolffe can’t imagine the angry Sith tucking his little brother to sleep and singing lullabies. Kriff, Wolffe can’t see himself doing that to anyone. But Feral looks so hopeful, and Wolffe wants to avoid another cry session. Damage control and all that.

“Whatever. Lay down.” Once Feral adjusts himself on the bed, Wolffe pulls the blanket up to the kid’s chin.

“Snuggle?” Feral asks hopefully. Oh no. By the grace of Jango’s shebs , Wolffe prays he did not just hear the word ‘snuggle’ escape the little demon’s mouth. He can see his entire tower of reputation crumble from the weight of that word. Wolffe can endure long campaigns and stupid clankers. But snuggles?!

“Um, no. Sorry.” Feral’s face contorts, and Wolffe has enough experience to know that he’s about to cry. “I mean, roll over.” Feral immediately smiles, and Wolffe rolls his eyes. He looks so happy that Wolffe wants to frown just to balance the emotions in the room. The kid obliges, and Wolffe scoots in. The bed is made for one person—not one and a half. So Feral buries his head into Wolffe’s chest.

It’s uncomfortable. The kid’s stubby horns dig into his ribs, and Feral is much warmer than Wolffe would like. He briefly remembers something about Zabraks having two hearts. He glances down at the kid. Where does he have the space in that little body to contain two kriffing hearts?

Feral curls deeper into Wolffe’s chest, little huffs escaping his mouth as he finds a comfortable position.

“Nite, Wuff.” The commander strokes the back of Feral’s head. It’s awkward, but the kid doesn’t mind. He doesn’t know if anything is real at this point. A few hours ago he wanted to strand the Nightbrother on the closest backwater planet, not cuddle next to a toddler version of him. How did Savage even deal with his younger brother? Wolffe would love to see the Sith Lord snuggle Feral then promptly shoot Savage between the eyes for killing clones. Well that’s dark. Probably shouldn't think of murdering the kid’s brother while I’m snuggling him .

“Good night, Feral.” Wolffe forces his eyes to close, and he wraps an arm around the kid. Feral murmurs something and drapes a skinny arm over Wolffe’s body. He stiffens. The last time someone hugged him like this was… well Wolffe doesn’t even know. Clones gave each other side hugs and pats on the back. On Kamino, cadets would sneak into each other’s pods, but that ended for Wolffe when he went to the command track. For now, Wolffe lets himself relax and allows sleep to take him.

It’s much, much later when Wolffe wakes up to find the entirety of the Wolfpack and General Koon staring at him. With a now-adult Feral buried in his arms, snoring lightly. He’s tempted to say that it isn’t what it looks like, but he’s too damn tired. Wolffe knows Plo is grinning under his mask (at least the equivalent of a Kel Dor grin; Plo projects all the smug feelings through the Force anyway). The rest of his men look at their commander, horrified. Boost is especially scandalized. Wolffe would be too if he weren’t so sleepy. Whatever. Everyone got to rest. It’s his turn now. So Wolffe closes his eyes and drifts back into sleep.

#feral opress #wolffe #clone wars #star wars fanfiction #wolfpack #commander wolffe #the danger of cuteness

[gizkalord]

Hi! Do you have any sw books/comics recommendations? I was gonna start reading the Karen Traviss clone wars books, but uh, Im not really feeling that after seeing her twitter. So far I've read the Ahsoka novel (I liked it) but I'm not sure where I should go after that :)

I’m not very well-versed in star wars books/comics unfortunately—I myself am trying to find the time to work through the recommendations I’ve gotten!

Comics:

Of the few I’ve read, I recommend the Slaves of Zygerria comic, Defenders of the Lost Temple, and Kanan: The Last Padawan series. Additionally, if you’re looking for more canon TCW content, Son of Dathomir is based on a cancelled TCW arc about Maul (set after Maul’s capture by Sidious in season 5).

Books:

I’ve read a grand total of TWO sw books lmao. The Revenge of the Sith novelization is a must read, especially if you like the prequel era—I think it really shapes how I view the characters in ROTS and the prequel trilogy in general, and it has incredible quotes/passages that I love to use for angst fuel. Aside from that, I’ve heard good things about Queen’s Shadow (Padme-centric book also by EK Johnston), Shatterpoint (Mace Windu book), the Thrawn trilogies (EU and current canon), and A New Dawn (Kanan/Hera prequel). Also, Dark Disciple is adapted from another cancelled TCW arc about Ventress.

hopefully my more well-read followers can chime in with their favorites! feel free to suggest other stuff :)

#sw books #sw comics #star wars #Anonymous

[sith-renegade]

Hope for a Fallen Sith

An end to an era, that’s what this was as the ripples through the force continued to come. A Jedi’s death every second, every minute and every hour. Maul couldn’t think of anything better or satisfying, if only he had been the one pulling the strings. But no, he had been cast aside, left to rot like unwanted trash.

A bitterness grew within the former Sith Apprentice as he snarled, tightening his grip on the vessels control panel. Fueling himself with all the more hatred for what had occurred to him and no one else.

His minds eye sought only one thing, Obi Wan. Revenge was at his heart and it was all he could care to think of, but alas he feared the worst. Now that the orders had been given and every Jedi alongside padawan, was presumed dead by now. If any survivors they would be snuffed out by the darkside no doubt about it.

An emptiness filled Mauls heart as he looked at the flickering stars and blue hue of the sky while still stuck in hyper space. For the first time in a long time he truly felt alone, with no true course and no one to tell him what to do. Meanwhile the overhanging threat that took hold of the galaxy created more problems. Maul knew he would have to be much more careful from here on out.

All of his crime syndicates had gone into hiding, there was no point in trying to reach out to them with such a new threat now looming over the galaxy. Even using the force would need to be limited for fear of Darth Sidious discovering him again, or worse his new apprentice, Darth Vader. 

Finally coming out of hyper space, Maul looked down at the crimson planet that he had set his course for. Dathomir. it was his only place to go, the only place he felt he could feel even remotely safe on. For however long that safety would last that is.

Not only that but it was never under the control of the Republic and seemed to far off for the new Empire to take control of the planet that had little to few civilizations on it. 

Perhaps it was his legacy, his inheritance calling him back here to this very place he should have called home. Alas it was just instinct to return back here. Soaring his ship in slowly to the worlds atmosphere, Maul was reminded of his last visit here. Talzin...His birth Mother. Although he knew almost little to nothing of her, he certainly would take advantage of such a title as her son. Landing the ship in the thicket of the forest, his yellow eyes glanced around from the safety of the ship as if he was prepared for another ambush.

Last time he had been here, there had been nothing good that occurred and he was sure Sidious had taken over the area. Yet no signs of life seemed to be out there. Nothing but the horrible crimson hue of the planet. It took Maul several minutes before his paranoia set aside and his pride finally kicked in.

The idea of taking over his former home and the place he did wish he had grown up in. Sure Sidious had shown him the side of a jedi, the side to be a hero, but as a nightbrother? As the son of Talzin? The nightbrothers and nightsisters were not known for their friendly and comforting ways. Perhaps if things had of been different, Maul could have grown up just as strong and powerful, maybe even more powerful, then he had as a Sith.

For it was not the comfort of family or his Mother, let along his past brother, but rather the comfort in knowing that whoever was left here was going to die by his hands and he would rule alone in the temple Talzin had built. There were no nightsisters left to protect this place, only ghosts of the past and the past was long forgotten to Maul. For now at least.

Moving from the comfort of the shuttles chair and lowering the ramp, Maul exited the ship with a cautious stride. One hand was itching to grab the hilt of his lightsaber that was now lost to him. 

“ We’ll keep our eyes out, sir “ a voice echoed from within the darkness of the foliage. 

It was robotic, following orders like a good little solider. Maul knew all too well who it was, just a bunch of droids. It was possible that Sidious had foreseen Mauls escape and wanted to ensure that Maul did not survive this purging. 

Instantly Maul snarled as his instincts almost turned primal, he had enough of these pests getting in his way and their stupidity. Without thinking Maul grabbed for his ‘lightsaber’ only to grasp at the air. Inwardly cursing the fact he had lost his saber when he had been captured and was now left with nothing but the force. Again.

Feeling through the force, Maul knew his enemy was maybe a few hundred feet away, so a much more stealthy approach was perhaps better, or he could do what he is truly good at? Cause some Chaos. 

Through the force he did not sense Grevious, a good sign for him. With little to no care Maul walked with a much more faster and eager stride as he wasted no time in doing what he loved most. 

Unaware of the loom threat, a small group of droids remained within the area. Their orders were crystal clear. Remain in the area, survey the environment and ensure Talzin was not brought back and no Nightsisters such as Ventress returned. Snuff out the last hope for those that might just try to revive something that could possibly rival the Sith other then the Jedi.

The platoon consisted of at least 20 or so members. All of which had set up a suitable camp within the area. After all the others had been taken to the battle of Coruscant with Grevious. Taking samples and artifacts for both Grievous and Sidious as had been ordered. However it didn’t matter how many there was or how good the camp area was, they had never fought a Sith and even though Maul was no longer an apprentice he still followed the principles and teaching of a Sith.

Using the force, Maul savagely dragged a droid closer to him before crushing its head with the force. The others became alarmed and began their formation attack. The crushed droids became a weapon as Maul hurled it towards others, knocking them down. Moving through the blaster fire without being hit, Maul grinding his teeth and with all that primal rage that had built up inside of him over the past few hours, Maul decimated the droids.

The fight didn’t last very long, what was left was nothing but smoke and debris from the fight. Maul made quick work of them all, thankful he did not have to encounter any droidekas. Ensuring that all laid in pieces of rubble, Maul finally set his crimson gaze upon the temple Mother Talzin had left behind. Ruined by the previous and recent fights that had occurred. Leaving behind nothing but old scares and fresh wounds. Maul softly hummed, appeased with the destruction he had done to a small faction of nothingness.

With a deep breath in, Maul narrowed his eyes on the open mouth of the statue before turning his gaze towards the sky. Night was beginning to set in, and he best be prepared for whatever lurked in the dark besides himself. 

Entering the dark dank temple, there was nothing but stale air and remnants of the former fights. The sight of artifacts spiked an interest in Maul. He had to admit his time on Mandalore deserved to be remembered, perhaps Maul could add to these artifacts with his own time and rule.

Before he can do such a thing thought, Maul knew he had to re-establish his connections and mind. By now Maul had been made Lord of the criminal syndicates out there. Perhaps it was time for a new one. 

“ Crimson Dawn...Sounds ideal “ Maul muttered to himself as he took a seat on the cold floor, crossing his legs and appearing to meditate. Yes he could still be a lord while in hiding, he could still be powerful without Sidious finding him.

A low and primal grunt came from Maul. For this would be a new era for him as well. One he believed he was destined to rule. And while he would grow to be the leader behind Crimson Dawn, he knew he could and would use his crime syndicate to find him! Kenobi!

#Darth Maul #Maul #Star wars #clone wars #Star wars Clone Wars #Star Wars Maul #/well this drabble sure turned into a novel? lol #[yes you may reblog :) ]