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o-wise-corvid · 1 year

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There is a Child

Chapter 1

The place where Jedi go to die, that was what Mustafar was called. It was hellish world, Plo Koon thought. The Force was thin here, like the air. Living things did dwell here but they were extremely hard to pinpoint. It was as if the ash storms held their own sway over what even the Force could convey. The sheer lack of moisture in the air, the inescapable baking oven of heat that rose from the ground itself… but he had to be here.

Why?

Well. The Force was why.

It had drawn him to the Outer Rim like a light in the darkest of nights. A beacon. But… for what? What was here that Plo Koon needed to see? Was the Force testing him? Trying to teach him something that he couldn’t learn in the comfortable, populated halls of the Temple on Coruscant.

“How to survive extreme conditions, perhaps?” the Kel Dor asked, opening his mind to the Force to try to perceive what he was so obviously missing. “Teach me, Master. I shall learn.”

Plo Koon was answered with the always-roar of the volcanoes in the distance, and the hiss of lava tubes just on the other side of the cliff side that he’d perched himself to meditate. He was very glad his rebreather blocked the scent of brimstone and sulfur from his scent organs.

But then something different reaching the Kel Dor’s ears. Clattering. Stone on stone. He looked up just as a… a bare foot? What was a humanoid without protective gear doing out among the lava flows?

Plo got to his feet, braced himself, and lept up to the plateau. He landed flat footed and whirled, looking for… anyone.

A panicked whimper drew his attention to an ash-blasted huddle of rocks near the plateau’s center that Plo quickly realized weren’t just rocks. There was a little figure hunched down behind one of them. A figure with bright, lamp-like eyes that peered up over the rock’s edge.

“Hello?” Plo called gently. “Hello, who are you? What are you called?”

The eyes blinked.

Plo was glad he didn’t have to remove his hood. They could be intimidating sometimes. He stepped closer and the creature behind the rock hissed.

“Easy. Easy there. My name is Plo Koon. I am a Jedi. Do you know the Jedi?”

The creature’s head shook. Once. They spoke Basic. Very good.

“I… am very surprised to find you here, little friend. Might I… get a better look at you?”

Nothing happened for a long moment. But then the creature straightened, somewhat, and hobbled toward Plo uncertainly.

It was a child. A boy, by Plo’s assumption. A little red-skinned Zabrak with tiny, pearly horns crowning his smooth scalp. The naturally amber eyes didn’t meet Plo’s face. Always downcast. Hidden in the black intricate black markings adorning him head to toe. Tattoos, Plo knew, were a Zabrak tradition, but these… Dathomiri, maybe?

But then Plo took in the boy’s clothes. Or lack thereof. He was naked; Plo guessed possibly his clothes had caught fire because the boy was holding a scrap of cloth in one small, desperate fist.

The boy was absolutely filthy. Not just from dirt and ask. There was… waste dried to the boy’s skin. And perhaps blood. Old, healing and fresh wounds marred the tattoos’ artistry.

And the boy was thin. So horribly thin.

“Little one… what are you called?”

The boy’s breaths were ragged, each one exposing ribs and collarbones and even his sternum. But he managed to gather enough air to speak after several long moments of panting. “D… Deenine call- calls m-me… Maul.”

It took an hour to get the boy to let Plo touch him. But the expression on the child’s face was so painfully desperate for… anything that the Jedi refused to just give up. The boy, Maul, kept mentioning Deenine. And The Man. That they would be angry. But Plo calmly and gently explained that whoever those people were, Plo would take the boy somewhere that they could never find him. Somewhere with food and a warm bath and cool drink.

Maul didn’t seem to know what a “bath” was. Plo wasn’t surprised. The boy looked like some degree of filth was how he’d existed all his life. There was no telling how old the boy was without tests; his emaciated state spoke of chronic starvation and dehydration. He might be as old as ten but be stunted due to this treatment.

Who would do this?

Why? What purpose could possibly be served by such cruelty? Anger rose in him and Plo hurriedly released it into the Force, which was difficult as there was more of it boiling up from his spirit.

Plo had no answers.

But when he was at last able to lift the boy, wrapped in his soft, brown robe… There was one. Maul was why he’d come to Mustafar.

Walking quickly back to his ship, Plo spoke softly and kindly to the boy. Maul just watched him. He looked frightened half to death. But… he wasn’t trying to get away. No. His fists were clenched around a fold of PLO’s robe so tightly that the diamonds on his knuckles looked grayish pink instead of black.

Once, Plo heard what he thought was a voice, shouting in the howling heat winds. But he kept going. And instead of trying to cast out with his feelings, Plo focused on shielding both himself and the boy. Whatever was happening on this planet, Plo didn’t want to stick around. When they were through the atmosphere and among the stars, only then did Plo relax his shoulders.

“Maul, there is a rat-“ But the sounds of tearing wrappers and greedy eating reached Plo’s auditory organs. The Kel Dor smiled. “Slowly now. Else you will be sick.”

There was a pause. Obedient. Quick. And then an adjustment in the sounds. Slower. More methodical. Plo winced. He hated the thought of the boy being so visibly hungry, but having to control himself even now. It was a cruelty, almost. But an unfortunately necessary one.

“M… Master,” came the earnest, hoarse little voice. Plo marveled at how polished the boy’s accent was. He almost sounded Coruscant with such clipped and proper tone; it was highly out of place.

“You may call me Plo, young one.”

There was a long silence.

Thinking. Much thinking.

“Plo…? I… can stay with you? I…” The boy’s voice trembled with sudden tears and Plo couldn’t restrain himself from reaching back to place a comforting hand on the boy’s head. Maul jumped under the touch. A flinch. Born of pain and terror. “I-I do not have to go back?”

“No,” Plo assured, turning to see the boy. “No, Maul. Never. You are safe now. Safe.”

The little boy cried. He cried until his sobs turned to hiccups and his eyes fell shut with tears still on his face. An exhausted, surrendering sleep overtook Maul and he slumped, finally against the passenger seat, wrapped snugly in Plo Koon’s robe. Plo passed feelings of comfort, safety and peace to the boy, pressing them down over any nightmare that may assail the little Zabrak’s so badly needed rest.

And then he activated his hyper drive. It was time to go home.

#okay folks #I did it #idk why but Plo Koon being the discoverer of little force sensitive children is just #that’s the good stuff #we’re going to skip ahead in the next chapter #and then return #back and forth in time #I think #jedi!maul #Maul and 38 AU #we don’t know what she’ll be named in this one yet #but I hope y’all like it 😘🫶🏻#darth maul

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mercurydancer · 2 years

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An Unexpected Chance Pt 2

I'm back~ more tiny Maul! Also more headcanons than you can shake a stick at. I am BEYOND excited at weird alien biology etc so like. expect a lot of that LOL. also expect references to The Wrath of Darth Maul and how fucking awful Sidious was to him.

Maul was not how he was supposed to be.

Maul had known that the first time he had woken up and found himself in a room that he had never seen.

A part of him would have thought of it as a test, something engineered by his Master if not for the words written in blood before him, ‘STAY’ had been one, written in Sith and then ‘HELP COMING’ was written beside it. Maul had stared at it, breath catching in his lungs, fear burning within him… He had slowly pulled himself up and back, realizing as he did so that he was covered in a large…black fabric…and as he moved he had felt a pain in his hand.

That was when he had stared at his fingers, realizing that there was the remnants of dried blood upon them, and that was when he knew that the blood was his.

His messages.

His writing.

Maul crawled his way out of the large black fabric and found it to be a tunic…a tunic that was…that had been…

Maul stood there, looking at his writing, looking at the blood on his hands, and looking at the clothes that had once been his…and known that something had gone wrong, and that whatever it was… Whatever happened he had realized it had gone wrong and tried to help himself. Maul took that in, took in the comm that had been opened and fallen to the ground, and finally picked up the weapon that had been beside it. A staff, so large…so big…and holding it in his hands, Maul had truly felt small, but for the first time he realized he was powerful.

The burn of the Kyber within gleamed with the strangeness of something Bled, but something…different. They winked at him in greeting, and Maul knew that they were his…for as different as he must have been they were still his.

Maul had taken all of that in and finally decided to stay. He had taken the tunic and refashioned it into something he could wear, and gone to find a place to hide. The man that had eventually come was not one he recognized, but he sensed no ill-will, and in fact felt something quite different.

And he had known Maul’s name.

Maul had watched him from a distance, recognized him as a Jedi and…and Maul knew what his Master had said about the Jedi, Maul knew…

But his Master was not here and Maul himself had called him help. Maul had approached…and the look on the man’s face as he saw him…

Maul had not understood.

But eventually after days and days where Maul had slowly worked up the courage and found that Mace Windu (the Jedi’s name) was help, was someone that he could trust… And for whatever reason…

For whatever reason Mace liked Maul. Mace was kind to Maul. And even now, carried into the heart of the Jedi perched on his hip… Maul did not feel afraid.

Maul felt safe.

Maul had never felt this way. It had taken Maul asking Mace about it to help him understand why he did not… Maul was so used to Deenine attacking him from the shadows, so used to every step he took being watched, for the possibility that he was about to be hurt at any moment… It had been strange to walk down the halls of Mace’s ship and realize that he was not going to be hurt. That he wasn’t going to be attacked, that the hands that reached out to him were never clenched in a fist or crooked for electricity…they were hands that held him, or hooked his horns gently, or took his hands, or…or were just…they were kind.

Maul had not known what kind was either.

Mace took him through the Temple, and as they walked Maul began to realize that there were many eyes that were following them. Yet…these eyes did not hold any threat in them, did not have any anger, or fear…they had…they had…

“Mace,” Maul said quietly, Mace looking at him out of the corner of his eye, his mouth softening slightly in the way that it did whenever he looked at him. “Why are they looking at me like that?” he asked, looking back at them, “what’s…what’s that look mean?”

Mace cast his gaze out around them, looking at the people that were staring at them, taking in the wide-eyed looks, the way that some had even pressed themselves close together and were whispering, looking back at the two of them with such… “They’re happy,” Mace said. “They are happy to see you, and a little confused.”

“Because I am not how I am supposed to be,” Maul said softly.

“Yes,” Mace agreed with a nod. “You are much younger than any of us have ever seen you. You came into the Temple at eighteen. None of us have ever seen, much less held you as a child.”

“I have never been held as a child,” Maul said, frowning. “At least…not like this.”

“Do you like it?” Mace asked. “Should I put you down?”

Maul thought for a moment, considered the idea of being put down, of walking behind Mace…leaving the warmth of the arms around him, of leaving… “No, please,” Maul said.

“Okay,” Mace smiled at him fully, and Maul had a sudden idea that he wanted to carry him.

Maul was content to let him, peering back at the people who stared at him. At one point Maul found himself copying the Togruta girl, Ahsoka, baring his teeth at a brown-haired man with a beard, who was staring at him with the widest blue eyes that Maul had ever seen, standing next to another man with even longer brown hair who was also staring at him with wide eyes. At the sight of his bared teeth the man with the shorter hair and blue eyes started to laugh, and when Maul allowed his lips to curl into the slight twist of a smile he grinned back, baring much less threatening teeth as he was at least near-human, the longer-haired man dipping his head in acknowledgement.

That was nice. Maul was not used to being acknowledged like that.

Maul frowned slightly as the shorter-haired man…moved his hand before him in a similar gesture to Anakin…tugging at Mace’s robe he dipped his head towards him, “What’s he doing?”

“He’s saying hello,” Mace said, “that’s a wave.”

“Oh,” Maul said, frowning.

“Like this,” Mace said, holding out his other hand that was not holding Maul and waving it in the same way, Maul finally copying the motion. This made the other man wave harder with the biggest smile on his face, the man with longer hair also waving then. Maul could not help the grin that spread across his mouth, before finding himself with his face buried in Mace’s robes. Mace gave a soft laugh and hopped him up a little, continuing to walk.

Maul caught the way that the two men were laughing, quietly whispering to each other, following the two of them with their eyes that were absolutely so…happy.

Maul did not understand…but it was nice.

Mace carried him to a lift, and Maul found himself gripping tighter to the fabric of his robe as he realized that… “Do you want to be on the lift with only me?” Mace asked softly. “I can make sure that no one else gets on with us.” Maul nodded. He did not want to be in such a small space with strangers, even with Mace in there with him. Mace waited until the lift was empty and then stepped in. Maul closed his eyes briefly against the brightness of the light, hearing Mace give a soft, “sorry, here,” and he heard a soft chime. When Maul opened his eyes again the lights were much dimmer. “Is that better?”

“Yes,” Maul said, “thank you.”

“Of course,” Mace smiled. “How are you feeling?” he asked, looking to Maul.

Maul frowned slightly, trying to pick through the tangle in his chest. “I do not know,” he said finally, “but it is not bad.”

“I am going to introduce you to a few people,” Mace said, “we’re going to go slow at first, do you think you would be up to three at a time, or would two be better?”

“Will you be with me?”

“I will,” Mace said, and his voice had gotten that…funny little hoarseness to it, like he was trying to swallow something back.

“Then I will do three,” Maul said with a determined nod. “Who are they?”

“They are members of the Council, and some of them were your friends.”

“Like Ahsoka and Anakin were my friends?”

“Yes, and Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon. Those were the two that waved to you. Qui-Gon had the longer hair.”

Maul nodded slowly. “They were nice.”

“They are nice,” Mace agreed, “and they like you a great deal.”

“They liked me…” Maul frowned. “How do you know they like me now?”

Mace smiled at him. “Trust me.”

Maul frowned at him, but ultimately had to concede.

Maul was letting Mace hold him, after all. Mace was at least good enough to not drop him, and had not hurt him, or bit him, or done anything to him that was mean or unkind… Mace did not even mind when Maul hid his face in his robes. Maul found himself leaning into him, hiding another yawn against his shoulder. Mace gave a soft sound, “I’ll get you in a bed soon, kiddo,” Mace said softly.

“What’s kiddo?”

“You,” Mace smiled, “it’s just an affectionate endearment. Do you know what endearments are?”

“No,” Maul shook his head.

“They’re words that we use to express our care for a person, sometimes they’re nicknames that we call a person when we’re fond of them, things like ‘sweetie,’ and ‘dear one,’ and ‘kiddo.’ It’s a little word of affection,” Mace explained. “Some of them are for very young kids, like you. You do not tend to address someone who is grown as kiddo unless you’re aiming for a fight.”

“Oh,” Maul frowned. “So, it can also be a challenge?” Maul asked.

“If said in the right tone,” Mace agreed with a nod. “But for you, I just mean it as an endearment.”

Maul nodded slowly.

The lift dinged, and they stepped out into a long hall, and Maul was momentarily distracted from the conversation by the sight of the people that were within it.

Mace walked past them with his head high and his arms wrapped around Maul comfortably, Maul hiding another yawn in Mace’s shoulder. “Almost there, kiddo,” Mace said again softly. “If you want to wait until later to meet them we can,” he said, Maul looking up to meet the dark eyes that stared into his own, taking in the way they crinkled in a smile, “but if you do it now, you want to get them to leave or are overwhelmed all you have to do is yawn and I bet they’ll rush right out.”

Maul took that in and gave a nod of agreement. “I want to meet them.”

“I know just who to start with,” Mace said with a smile, and finally pressed a couple buttons on a door sensor that beeped briefly, Mace shifting Maul close enough to press his hand to it. It gave another series of beeps in recognition and swung open, Maul blinking as he saw the lights dim automatically, lowering to something that made it easy for Mace to see everything, but was not in danger of threatening his own eyes. Mace carried him into the middle of the room and put him down.

Maul had never seen a nicer room!

There was a massive couch that was in front of a large pair of windows that overlooked the city, and it was so big! The structures sparkling in the sunlight, the flash of tiny speeders buzzing past so quick! The sky was the most dazzling sort of blue, something that Maul had never truly seen, something that he stared at for so long that it burned in his retinas when he finally looked away. The couch was flanked by two tables, and upon one rested a large flowering plant, beautiful blue blooms that were a much deeper color than the sky itself.

Maul took in the kitchen that he recognized from his studies, unable to help the curiosity that led to him walking into it, pulling out drawers, taking in the cutlery…there was cutlery! Actual forks and knives! Maul wouldn’t have to just eat with his hands!

Maul looked up at Mace, who smiled at him, “would you like to see the rest?”

Maul nodded, his eyes wide, following Mace as he walked him into the rest of the rooms. There was a separate refresher! It had a toilet, and a proper sink! Maul had never had either of those, though it was a bit out of his reach, Maul standing on his tiptoes to look at the inside of the sink basin. He couldn’t see his reflection in the mirror.

“I’ll get you a stool,” Mace said, his voice full of a smile. “Then you can reach without climbing. I also have…” he paused, reaching over the sink to the shelf that Maul had noticed when he walked in, and he crouched down, holding out… Maul narrowed his eyes at it.

“Horn oil?” Maul read aloud.

“Yes,” Mace smiled, “I never got rid of it. Which will be just perfect for you.”

Maul reached a hand up to his horns that were dry and sometimes hurt a good deal. “Will it stop them hurting?”

“Eeth and Agen both will be able to help you with that,” Mace said, “they’re both Zabraks like you, they’ll be among the first to meet you. They had to go through the exact same growing pains that you did.”

“Are they Nightbrothers like me?” Maul asked.

“No,” Mace shook his head. “Unfortunately, we do not have any other Nightbrothers at this Temple,” he said. “They are Iridonian.”

“Oh,” Maul said softly, before nodding. “That is acceptable then. When shall I be meeting them?”

“Let’s see the rest of the apartment first,” Mace said with a smile and Maul nodded, following him out of the refresher. “My room…” he said and pressed his hand to a panel by a door, “is here.” Maul watched as the door slid open, finding a fairly spartan dwelling…but so much more than he had ever seen. The bed looked comfortable, a series of holoimages placed across the room and…a hand-painted image that depicted the sunset over Coruscant. It was beautiful, and for just a moment Maul stared at it, before turning back to Mace. “You are free to enter it when I am there,” he said, “the only thing I ask is that you knock first, but if you have a nightmare, or something happens, please come get me.”

Maul nodded slowly, “Why would it matter if I have a nightmare?” he asked.

“Nightmares pass quicker if you have someone with you,” Mace answered, smiling.

Maul did not know about that, but he would trust him. Mace then walked him over to another palm sensor, dipping his head towards it. Maul blinked, before standing on his toes to press his hand against it. There was a click and a hiss and then the door opened.

Maul stared into another room that was like the first. There was a beautiful bed, and…he frowned briefly, before looking up at Mace.

“Come on,” Mace said walking into the room and ducking down, pulling a long box out from underneath it. “Will you help me with this?”

Maul walked over, helping Mace to open it and…the smell that hit him as the box was opened was immediate and familiar. It smelled like him, even past the washings, the scent of clean, he recognized it as home. He pulled one of the silky sheets up to his nose, burying his face in it briefly, before looking to Mace, his eyes wide. “Why…?” he started softly. “Why does it smell like me? Why does it…” he paused, looking around, “did…did I stay here?”

“While you were my Apprentice, Maul, you stayed with me. This was your room.”

Maul blinked before looking up at Mace with a sudden horror burning in his chest.

“You’re my new Master?” he asked, finding himself falling a step back, instinctively dropping to his knees, bowing forward to fall into the proper form for such a thing, to show the proper respect, terror burning in his chest and a sick feeling in his stomach. He should have known, he should have done something better, he should have…

“Hey, hey,” Mace said, his voice so gentle, and there was a choked…broken sort of tone in his voice. Maul held perfectly still, not looking up until he felt a hand gently trace his scalp before hooking one of his horns so gently – and Maul had never felt that before Mace had started doing it, did not understand why it felt so nice, why it made him warm, gave him feelings of safety and being…held… “Look at me, Maul,” Mace said softly and Maul slowly, carefully allowed himself to raise his head, looking up at his Master from the corner of his eye, not willing to make eye contact now that he knew…

Maul had been so disrespectful and so…

“Maul, no,” Mace said, “you do not have to do that. I do not want you to do that. The way your former Master treated you was wrong and I will not treat you the same way as he did. He does not deserve your loyalty. You do not have to bow to me like that, you do not need to avert your eyes…” Mace took a breath and Maul realized…Maul realized that his eyes were wet… Maul stared up at the man before him with open shock as he realized that Mace…Mace was crying.

“Crying doesn’t help,” Maul said before he could check himself. “Crying doesn’t do anything it just makes it worse…”

“No,” Mace said very softly, “your Master was a liar and he was wrong. He has done everything possible to gut you, and telling you not to cry was one of them. You are allowed to cry, Maul, sometimes it is even very good.”

Maul took that in for a moment, so…so… “But why are you crying?”

“Because…” Mace took a breath, “because I had known that your Master had hurt you dearly. But to see evidence of it when you are so young, when you are so little and to know that he broke you at every opportunity even when you were just the child I see before me… I grieve and my heart breaks, and the only thing that I can hope is that this time…this time will be different. And because I do not believe in simply hoping…if you will let me, Maul, I would like to make it so. Will you let me help you? Will you let me show you that your Master was a Monster and a Liar?”

Maul stared up at Mace for the longest time, took in his grief and his pain, and knew that it was for him, for what happened to him, knew that Mace…cared about him… And softly, so softly…

“Yes…”

Mace smiled at him, a gentle look, and Maul found himself slowly smiling back. “Maul,” he said softly, “I was never your Master. I was your Teacher and you were my Student, my Padawan. And do you want a very well-known secret?” he asked, leaning closer, looking around as though someone would overhear.

“What?” Maul whispered.

“I have always been so proud of you. And I want you to know…that that hasn’t changed. You are so brave, Maul, and I am so proud of you.”

Maul smiled, feeling it pull across his face in a way that he could not help and did not understand, a swelling of warmth bursting to life in his chest as words that Maul did not even know he had wanted to hear were spoken into being. Words that he had never heard before, words that burned with truth and with sincerity. Maul basked within those words for a moment, his eyes closed as he let them settle within him, and then he finally nodded. “Thank you,” he said softly.

“Thank you,” Mace returned, “now come on, let’s get this bed made. Have you ever made a bed?”

“No!” Maul said, standing up and taking the sheets in his hands, “what do I do?”

Mace showed him how to make it, indicating that Maul should take off the boots that he had been wearing.

Mace had gotten them on the way back to the Temple, stopping off at a planet that had a market square that had been filled with so many colors and so many people. Flowers of every sort, beings of every type, and Mace had taken Maul’s hand and walked him through the marketplace, the two of them looking for something that could properly fit him. Mace had told Maul to stick with him, and Maul had listened.

He knew what Nightbrothers were thought of. He knew what would happen if he wandered too far away.

Mace had told him then that other people might try and accuse Mace of being Maul’s Master, of the idea that Maul was his slave, but they would both know the truth – that Maul was no one’s slave and no one’s property – and they would refuse to engage. They would keep doing their shopping.

It had been hard.

There had been words and looks and Maul had kept himself pressed tightly against Mace’s side. It had taken an old woman sitting in the midst of a colorful array of fabrics dipping her head in acknowledgement of Maul, a wide smile spreading across a wrinkled face… She had been a Twi’lek, Maul knew because of the Lekku, and he had allowed himself the tiniest of smiles.

“You look about the same age as one of my grandsons,” she had said, her voice low and husky. “You won’t find much here for him,” she had said, looking up at Mace, her gaze the brightest blue in a face of green. “But if you will wait here for a moment…” she had pulled a comm out of her bag and Mace had smiled,

“Thank you,” he had said, and she had waved him off.

Mace had stood by her shop for a while, Maul looking at all of the colorful fabrics and listening to their conversation. When a little boy that looked around his age came running up, lekku flying behind him, Maul had stared at him in wonder. Maul had always wanted to see another little boy. Had always wanted to see another… The boy had introduced himself as Elav, and held out a pair of boots, talking to his Grandmother as he did so. Maul had taken the boots, putting them on his feet and finding that they fit well. Mace had attempted to give the woman credits, but she had waved him off, telling him that she had also needed help a long time ago and found great kindness. She was only trying to pay it back.

Maul had not known what that meant, but he had thanked Elav for his boots, and Elav had beamed at him, taking his hand, and running him through the Market. Interestingly, held by Elav as he had been, the Venders turned out to be much nicer. Two had even offered them something that was sticky and very sweet, Maul finally shoving the entire thing in his mouth to keep from getting it on his hands. Elav had laughed at him, and once again they had run off.

When Maul had been brought back to Mace he was holding a few clothing items, these ones he had apparently paid for. They all fit Maul very well, and he was currently wearing some of them now as he crawled across the bed, tucking in the weird ‘fitted-sheet’ into the corners of the bed as Mace indicated, his feet well above the covers, crawling on his knees.

When he was finally finished he rolled off the bed, which had been soft and plush in a way that he had never felt before. Mace threw the last cover over it, spreading it out from his height, and put a hand on Maul’s head, gently hooking a horn with his thumb. Maul leaned closer to Mace reflexively, his eyes closing.

There was the sound of a knock and Maul straightened, turning to look up at Mace and then at the door.

“Come on,” Mace said softly, and led him back into the main room, his hand held out to him, after a beat Maul took it, feeling the human-warm hand hold his. They walked over to the door and palmed it open revealing three people.

Two of them were Zabraks, Maul could see that immediately, taking in the various marks they used to show lineage, one with much darker skin than the other that used scarification, and the other with thin black tattoos that traced his face. They both had long black hair, and Maul could see their proud horns rising up from their foreheads.

The other was a Rodian of a brilliant blue, and at the sight of Maul his large red eyes creased in such a wide smile they were nearly shut. Maul stared at the three of them standing there, taking in their Jedi robes and their strange still pools, and yet…

There was no denying the way that they were looking at him, the utter…warmth that Maul could read in them.

“Hello, Maul,” the darker Zabrak said, taking a step forward. “My name is Agen. This one is Eeth, and the Rodian is Tiq.”

“’Lo,” Maul said softly, and then straightened, for a moment fearing repercussion for allowing himself to slur his speech, to show that much weakness, but he was not…he was not expecting for the way that the three of them smiled at him.

“Hello, little cousin,” Eeth said so softly, lowering himself to his knees before him, “it is so good to see you.”

Maul watched as Eeth tilted his head forward, not to…to fight, but to… Agen smiled down at him when Maul let his gaze wander up, tilting his own head forward with a signal that Maul should do the same and he… Maul hesitated for just a moment, before allowing his horns to connect with Eeth’s.

And the feeling was so strong and so deep and so strange that for a moment Maul could only close his eyes and bask in it, nearly falling forward into him, but Eeth wrapped his arms around him, pulling him into an embrace, and Maul’s horns were still interlocked, and he felt…

Oh…

Maul had never felt like this.

Maul did not know why he felt like…like home.

“I have missed you,” Eeth said, and Maul felt his eyes welling with something he didn’t understand and could not hold back, finally wrapping his own arms around Eeth’s neck and…and…

Maul felt the moment Agen lowered himself down next, Eeth shifting Maul slightly to be between the two older Zabraks, the both of them pressing their horns to his on either side, both of them whispering soft words of welcome of how…good it was to see him, of how they were glad he was whole and…

Maul felt the tears slip down his face…and there was nothing he could do…and nothing that was done.

Maul was safe.

When they finally pulled back, Maul wiped at his face with both hands, wiping away the remains of tears and trying to regain his composure.

Maul had not cried like that in so long, had not allowed himself to when the last time he had cried like that his Master had used his lightning on him until his muscles would not stop twitching and he had screamed himself raw. Maul had been somewhere between expecting for something like that to happen again and so…certain that he was going to be hurt. Nothing had happened, even now… Maul blinked as he realized there was a piece of white fabric dangling before him. Maul looked up to see Tiq smiling at him, and he held the fabric between two fingers.

“For your tears, kitten,” Tiq said softly. “Wipe it over your face to catch them.”

“Kitten?” Maul asked, frowning, slowly reaching out towards the fabric.

“That’s what you are,” Tiq smiled, “a Zabrak youngling is a kitten.”

Maul took this in for a moment. “Oh,” he said softly, taking the fabric and carefully wiping his face with it. It was soft and it smelled recently laundered. He looked at the Rodian quietly for a moment, frowning, “what is a Rodian called?”

“A hatchling,” Tiq answered, that smile softening. “And then you have a baby human, or a child.” He dipped his head towards Mace, who grinned.

“Kitten,” Maul repeated to himself softly, handing the small fabric back. Tiq pocketed it. “Thank you.”

“Of course,” Tiq said.

Maul found himself staring between the four of them, for a moment unsure what to say, how to feel. There was so much happening, and it was all so overwhelming.

Maul could cry. He could cry and nothing would hurt him.

All of these people…and the soft things and…and…Maul felt another yawn take over, belatedly covering his mouth with his hands, and he heard a soft sound.

“I think it’s time for bed,” Mace said softly.

“Ah, Nightbrother hours,” Agen said with a laugh, “you ready to get used to that again?” he asked Mace, who grinned.

“I think it might be a lot easier this time,” he said.

“Luckily I’m in agreement,” Tiq laughed.

“Alright, come on,” Mace said softly and held his arms out. Maul stepped closer, letting them enfold him in an embrace, taking him up to rest on Mace’s hip once again. He walked into the room that had been Maul’s, and Maul watched as Eeth turned the blankets down, Mace lowering him down into them.

Maul felt the softness of the bed envelope him, Agen pulling the blankets up to his chin. Maul felt the brief press of Agen’s horns to his own, followed by Eeth’s, Tiq hooking a horn with his finger and giving him a fond little shake. Mace clicked the light off, the room in darkness.

“Remember,” Mace said softly, “You need me I’m right outside. You’re not alone. You’re safe here.”

And as he said it…

Maul found that he believed him.

And then he knew no more as sleep finally claimed him.

Eeth backed out of the room with the other three, brushing the tears from his eyes.

Eeth would have never believed that this would have been possible. Would have never imagined that he would be staring at a version of his little cousin that so lived up to the name. Maul was so tiny, barely up to his hip and Eeth was not a particularly tall man. Coupled with the fact that Maul’s build was so petite, battling the effects of malnutrition yet again and how Eeth hoped that this was a reflection of what the boy had been like as a child and not the man that he had grown up to be…

Eeth hoped that Maul was taking care of himself, was working on keeping himself alive and healthy and happy and not just following a mission with single-minded intensity.

Eeth knew that Maul had a mission.

The Temple knew that Maul had a mission.

The knowledge of the steadily growing destruction of the Outer Rim Slave Trade had made its way to the Inner Rim, to Coruscant. No one had known what was happening, only that there were a series of strategic deaths, of cut ties and destroyed ships…of slaves walking free for the first time in years. When asked the Jedi had stated that it was out of jurisdiction – and it was, they were chiefly interested with the Inner and Middle Rims, there had been no talk of the Outer, and most of them thought that the Jedi were infringing. They had been able to watch it happen, and oh how Eeth had watched.

It changed something in the atmosphere, in the feel of it all when he knew precisely who it was that was doing this. When he knew who it was that was causing the Slavers to feel truly threatened for the first time in centuries.

Eeth was proud.

Eeth was proud of the young man that had taken a stand and said no. Eeth was proud of the one that had managed to put a dent in something that had never seen a true halt.

It was a testament to Maul’s lethality and above all his calculating and truly brilliant nature.

It was a delicate balancing act to maintain order and not create a power vacuum that would suck all of the recently freed down into it or cause a wave of destruction across the Outer Rim.

The ultimate shattering of the slave trade of Zygerria had been one of the more resounding echoes and had been one of the first things that made Eeth certain that Maul had to be involved.

There was no one else he could see able to do something so big. Maul had not been in contact, though, for years. Eeth would sometimes hear from him in the beginning, but as the scale of what Maul was attempting to do had gone up so too did the silence. It was the one thing that Eeth had despaired of. He wanted to know how Maul was doing, he wanted to know that he was still safe, was well… The fact that Maul now was so thin, so small…Eeth had to hope that it was a reflection of the boy as he had been.

One of the main ways he could think of to be able to tell was the fact that Maul did have a massive scar across his middle. If it was not there then it perhaps was a more complete transformation… Eeth knew that it had been a Holocron of some sort that had done this, some sort of Sith Magick that had twisted him, but the full consequences of that were unknown.

Eeth could only hope that if it did turn out to be permanent…if it did…

They would be ready.

And if it was not then they would work so hard to give him a gift that he could look back on, could know with all that was in him that he was loved.

And above all Eeth wanted Maul to know that he was loved.

Eeth turned to Mace then, who had wiped his eyes, before looking to Tiq. “Are you planning on taking him on as a patient again?” he asked.

“If Maul will have me I will offer my services,” Tiq agreed with a nod. “I definitely will offer either way.”

“Good,” Mace said with a nod. “I was going to ask you to if he would let you, I think it would be very good for him.” Mace hesitated. “He doesn’t remember anything of us,” he said, “and truly I am grateful. I cannot imagine waking up to see that you have more scars crossing over your body than you have ever seen.” Mace shook his head. “He has a few still, and there is evidence of Lightning, but it is nothing like it was when he was in my care as an Apprentice.”

“And you would definitely know,” Agen grinned, laughing, quietly referencing Maul’s tendency to train without a shirt that had followed him throughout the Temple.

“Hey, as I always told him, if someone else got almost cut in half and used their intestines to strangle someone that was attempting to kill our younglings they could perhaps tell him to put a shirt on, as it is I don’t think anyone has much of a say,” Mace shrugged and there was a quiet laugh. “I never wanted him to be ashamed of it,” Mace said quietly. “I never wanted him to feel like it…was unsightly or shouldn’t be seen or appreciated for the mark of sacrifice that it was.”

“I would have done the same thing,” Eeth said, taking Mace’s shoulder in his hand, and there was a quiet agreement. “But from what you’re telling us…” he paused, “he truly is six years old?”

“From what I understand,” Mace agreed. “He has his tattoos…”

“Meaning he has already taken a life,” Tiq said softly.

And for a long moment there was silence.

“That poor boy,” Agen whispered. “He’s just…he’s so little. How could anyone…how could anyone do that to him? For him to have…he’s so small. He’s so small.”

“Seventeen days on the surface of Mustafar when he’s that small,” Eeth said.

“That was then,” Tiq said, and his gaze was firm. “That was then, and we need to show him that it does not have to be now. We focus on what we can do for him now. We show him that life does not have to be like he was used to, that he deserves to be cared for, that he deserves to be loved. That is what we can do for him.”

“Then it is what we shall do,” Mace said softly. “Thank you all for coming. We’ll be introducing Maul to the rest of the Council shortly I think. Will you join us for evening meal?” Mace asked, looking to them and Eeth nodded, recognizing the affirmation the others gave.

“Of course,” Agen said.

“I’ll be getting my sunlamp out of course,” Tiq said, stretching.

“Thank you for being so willing, Tiq,” Mace said.

“Of course,” Tiq said, “provided he still accepts me he is my patient and that has not changed. I will do what I can.”

There was a brief acknowledgement and they all made to leave.

Eeth could not help but smile. Regardless of the iteration, of how old or how young Maul was…there was no doubt that he was always the shakeup that the Order needed.

And he likely always would be.

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