We Live in Shadow (Maul x Inquisitor!Reader) [Pt. 1]
Synopsis: You've been without Maul nearly as long as you were with him. After the first time he came back from the dead and notably did not seek you out, the massage was clear that you weren't a priority of his. One would think growing up together would've earned you a radio transmission at least.
Without his finest protege, Darth Sidious spared you - much to your dismay - and put you to work. A year after the birth of the Galactic Empire, you serve as one of the finest agents of the Inquisitorius hunting Jedi and enemies of the Emperor alike. Maul remains a wound that never fully heals. When you are given a mission to hunt and eliminate him and the Jedi he's allied himself with, you have to fight to avoid showing he caused you any pain at all.
Warnings: Canon-typical violence, unhealthy relationships, mentions of abuse (by Sidious to Maul & Reader), swearing
Chapters: Next
Note: Underlying themes compare Maul's experience with Reader's - Maul got away from his abuser (mostly) while Reader didn't, so it's a little character study about that. That said, Reader is NOT a nice person, so be forewarned.
Running is genuinely one of the worst things that ever happened to you and it’s not even close. Pair that with the weight and rigidity of your armor - which, by the way, is not very breathable - and you’ve got a recipe for misery and despair.
You check your comms for your partner’s location. It pings just beyond your current position, less than halfway down the track from the next station. When the headlights appear, you take a running start and jump, landing perfectly on the next train car.
It’s much smoother sailing from there. All you have to do is make some forward progress while the train moves under you. Soon enough, the blinking red dot on your comm gets closer until you hear the distinct sound of lightsabers clashing. You draw your own weapon. The fight is obscured by some taller train cars, which gives you a perfect entrance. You focus on lowering your force signature as much as possible. In doing so, you won’t be able to sense him until you see him, but judging from the breakneck speed of the fight, his presence is definitely within the realm of possibility.
Taking another running start, you jump, using the force against the ceiling of the tunnel to propel you downwards. Bending your knees, you collide directly with the largest target, one knee to the upper chest, the other direct to sternum. As they start to fall, you use your quarry as a launch pad, arching your back so you flip backwards and land side-by-side with your partner.
“Took you long enough,” Marrok’s voice sounds from inside your helmet. You huff through your nose.
“Sorry I can’t always miraculously be in the right place at the right time,” you retort. If he replies, it’s lost on you when you focus back on your quarries.
One is the pink twi’lek you’d been briefed on. She stands battle-ready, though her face reflects the dire situation she’s in now that you’ve joined.
The other is someone you’d have made good money on if you were a betting woman. No one understands that the man’s much too stubborn to die. Or death just refuses to have him. Either works.
You do not afford yourself time to take in your reunion. You’ll be able to get a good long look at him when he’s bleeding out on the floor of this train car. Or not bleeding, you suppose, since your blade would cauterize the wounds.
Maul’s managed to catch himself on a stack of crates instead of being laid flat out by the entire force of your body weight. Impressive, but it gives you the perfect opening. You rush forward, aiming for a downward slash from his shoulder to hip. Typically, you’d make Marrok take the harder fight since you can’t be assed, but you’re curious to see what Maul’s picked up since you last saw each other. He’s been all over the galaxy, he must have something fresh and entertaining for you. That, and the longer Marrok fights the kid without defeating her, the more you can make fun of him for it later.
To no one’s surprise, Maul manages to raise his lightsaber in time. Yours bounces right off. You pull back to prevent the recoil from sending your swing too wide. Not a moment later, you instinctively block a counterattack that would’ve separated your arm from your torso. Maul, that brute, forces your blade down. The motion brings both your bodies closer to where you can smell the ashy smell of incense on him.
His brow furrows and his eyes lock on something beyond the front of your helmet. If you didn’t know any better, you'd think he could see through it. Before he can think too hard, you hop back and shove him back with a swift kick to the chest.
If you were someone else, maybe you’d take a moment to emote. If you had that moment, you’d have more time with your thoughts on seeing Maul again for the first time in what must be nearly two decades. At this point, you’ve lived without him close to as long as you lived with him. But the notion is ridiculous, so you toss it aside like garbage.
Two clicks crackle from your comms. You drop down into a split just as Marrok flips over you. You slash at Maul’s legs on the way down, which he narrowly avoids. On the way back up, you swing a leg around to engage the twi’lek girl, who you think must’ve been holding her own against Marrok pretty well if he’s choosing to switch, which is hilarious, but will be less funny if you don’t do any better.
She just barely manages to get back in time to dodge your upward slash. Behind you, you hear Marrok’s lightsaber’s auto-spinning feature engage and can’t help but chuckle to yourself. You even risk a glance back over your shoulder to see Maul’s look of disgust and disbelief.
Absolutely priceless. You’re going to replay the helmetcam footage of that expression before you go to bed every night. You knew he’d hate that shit.
You block another slash from your opponent. Deflecting the blade down, you sock her in the face with your off-hand. Her head snaps to the side and you wonder if you should feel bad about cold-clocking a child, but then again, you’d have a hard time doing your job if you had a tendency to feel bad about things.
She attacks, you dodge and before she can recover, you backhand her clean across the opposite cheek hard enough to send her careening into the side of the train car. She catches herself while you wait a moment for her to get up. You wouldn’t want the fight to be over before she shows you everything she can do. Something about her must be special to have caught Maul’s attention.
To her credit, she recovers sooner than you’d have guessed and reengages you. As the fight goes on, your individual battles swap places to where you and the twi’lek are towards the back of the train car. You click your comms twice and take a step back until you and Marrok are back to back. He bends at the waist while you propel yourself over him, bringing a foot down over top of Maul’s head. He jumps back. You miss his nose by a hair, which is unfortunate since you’d be glad to crush in that handsome face.
“I should have known,” Maul grits out. “That one day, you’d be haunting me as well.”
Damn, what gave you away?
If he’d taken a swing at you just then, you’d have been a goner. His voice was the one thing that wavered in your memories. It had been so long that you couldn’t remember the exact tone. For a moment, you’re a young teenager again and Maul’s grumbling at you for upsetting the old man for the nth time.
What a pathetic thing to remember.
Then the moment’s over and the heat of a blade threatens to singe your eyebrows off. You drop to the ground just as Maul’s lightsaber sails in a round, horizontal arc right past your face.
You spare a glance back and Marrok’s hopped back a car to avoid that strike. He stalks forward while you turn back to Maul, wondering how to best make him suffer before he meets his end. Then the sound of burning metal fills your nose and you look back to see Marrok and the other car getting smaller in the distance, the jedi girl standing at the connection with hot metal still dripping from it.
Well. Can’t say you would’ve thought of that yourself.
You snort. Thankfully no one can hear you from inside your helmet unless you make it so, though you’re sure Maul sees your shoulders shaking.
“Shut up and focus,” Marrok says over comm.
“Have a fun walk back, Mar!” you say through laughter.
“I hope they run you through.”
“Dream on.”
Now that you don’t have to worry about working in tandem, you can afford to get a little rough. With both of them on you, you engage your other blade, detaching the two from each other. You jump straight up in the air, rotating in place to plant a solid kick to the side of the jedi girl’s head. She impressively manages to duck out of the way. The two of them waste no time rushing you when you intercept both their thrusts with either of your blades.
You’d prefer to duel with just Maul to satisfy your curiosity of what he’s learned during your extended time apart. There was a time when he refused to stray very far from the style the old man taught you. Oh well. You’ll get another shot another time.
You duck to avoid the jedi girl’s swing from behind. Just as you do, Maul plants a solid knee into your chest. Retreating from both of them, you clutch your aching breast.
“Damn it, Maul! Are we serious?” Your shout comes out modulated, but not so much that you don’t confirm his suspicions, judging by his sharp intake of breath.
“So it is you,” he says breathlessly. “You’re alive.” You roll your eyes, straightening up with one fist planted on your hip.
“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” you sass back. “For the record, I never doubted you for a second. Death wouldn’t want you.”
“Is that a compliment?”
“If you need one that bad.”
You glance over at the human boy, who is not too far away, yet is still foolish enough to poke his head out from behind his cover. The twi’lek tenses when she sees your line of sight, but you really can’t be bothered. There will be better opportunities to run them all through. This one lacks aesthetics.
Devon fights to keep from trembling when the Inquisitor leans in close. She’d like to drive her lightsaber straight into her torso at this distance, but she can’t even bring herself to move. The other Inquisitor was a savage opponent and would have killed her if Maul hadn’t intervened, but this one? This one slapped her across the face. Toying with her. Like a loth cat playing with its food.
“Hilarious move against my partner just now.” Her voice is jarringly cheery for someone who was just trying to kill them. “He’s going to be pissed about that for weeks.” Then something in the way she holds herself shifts and she leans in close to Devon’s ear. This time her voice comes out freezing cold. “But if you ever do that shit again, I’ll rip off your stupid head-danglies and beat you to death with them.”
Yes, an Inquisitor is a formidable opponent. But at least the other fought her straight up. He’s one who takes his profession seriously. This one makes it seem like people’s lives are but a game to her. Devon had only felt such fear when she first met Maul.
The Inquisitor straightens back up, loose and playful again.
“Well, this was fun. Let’s do this again sometime!” she cheers and gives a mock salute. “See you soon, Maul. Pinky.” Then she vaults over the side of the moving train and is out of sight.
Devon stares after her in disbelief. Rylee creeps out from his hiding spot in similar shock.
“She let us go?” comes his hushed whisper. The boy is unharmed, though visibly shaken by the sight of the two jedi hunters.
Meanwhile, Maul continues staring at the side rail where the woman had disappeared. Instead of launching into another long-winded lecture, he grips his lightsaber so hard Devon thinks he could crack it.
“You’re shaking.” The words are out of her mouth before she can stop them. Whatever. He was shaking, even if he stopped the moment she’d said as much.
“Ridicuous,” Maul snaps. His mind seems to stray elsewhere again before he shakes his head like he’s trying to get water out of his ears. “Follow me.”
You and Marrok regroup and have an uneventful return to the ship. The shuttle itself is cramped, bare-bones, not designed for comfort. It has two long benches to sit on either side with no seatbelts. If the thing has to brake, you’ll be careening face-first into the glossy white wall. It’s narrow enough to where you and Marrok have to sit on opposite diagonal ends so your knees don’t clack together.
You remove your helmet while you have the time. As you run a handkerchief over your sweaty neck, you feel Marrok’s gaze on you.
“Can I help you?” you ask without looking over. You crane your neck to the side until you hear the vertebrae crack like a glowstick. That’s what you get for not stretching enough before missions.
“You know Maul. From before,” he states. His unspoken question lingers, though you’d rather he just come out and ask if he really takes issue with it.
Your head lolls over to look at him.
“We’re not really doing this, are we, Mar?” you whine. “I thought we weren’t going to talk about what we were doing before this. That’s, like, the crux of our working relationship.”
Straightening up, you twist your upper body to the side as far as it will go. Your spine popping echoes off the shuttle walls.
“That’s what you get for not stretching enough before missions,” he deadpans, adding insult to injury when he doesn’t deign to dodge the light kick you aim at his ankle.
“Bite me,” you shoot back. You meant what you said when you didn’t want to talk about it. You don’t pry into his past so he doesn’t do the same. But he is your favorite of the other Inquisitors by far and some part of your black heart feels obligated to reassure his, unfortunately, completely valid concern.
Crossing your arms, you sigh and slump a little in your seat.
“He hated me then, I’d be shocked if he didn’t hate me now, and it’s been so long since we’ve seen each other, we’re practically strangers anyway. When the time comes, I’ll kill him no matter our history. Cool?”
Marrok almost imperceptibly tilts his head to the side. He stares in silence long enough that you have to suppress the urge to shift under his scrutiny. Does he not believe you? Does he think you’ll hesitate?
Finally, he says, “I didn’t need your whole life story. I was just wondering if we’d have to swap you out with someone less involved. I think the Eleventh Brother is about to be done with his previous mission.”
You balk. “You’re the one that asked!”
He shrugs. “I just wanted to know if we’re going to have a problem. You knew what I was asking. I didn’t need the extra context.”
You kick him in the ankle again. He lets you.
“I hate you,” you hiss, crossing your arms and turning to face the wall.
“Yeah, yeah. I don’t know why I asked. No one with half a brain would be worried that you of all people wouldn’t be able to kill someone.”
“And don’t you forget it!”
Marrok prefers to give the report when you update your superiors, which is fine by you, especially if a mission goes poorly. He’s very particular about admin. Verbal, written, whatever, and in your opinion, if he’s going to be so stiff about it, it should be his problem.
The two of you always draw stares when you walk down the halls of the spacecraft. You, because you act nothing like the other Inquisitors with your hands laced behind your head and an easy stride. Him, because he’s the First Brother, straight-backed and imposing. And he’s tall with a deep voice, so that’s a factor.
“Canteen after this? Or should we go off-station?” he asks.
You raise a brow. Did someone replace him while you weren’t looking? “You’re letting me pick? You have never let me choose where we eat, not even once! You’d order for me if I let you.”
He rolls his eyes so hard his head moves with it. “Never mind.”
“Wait, no, I wanna pick!”
You’re not a square like Marrok, but you shut up when you turn the corner before the conference room. Even you don’t have a death wish. There’s a hiss of pressure when the double doors slide open for you. The two of you enter and take a knee. When the hologram appears, you bow your head in respect. You stay down while your partner looks back up for the report.
“My lord, we can confirm the presence of Maul,” he says.
Right. That. You sure can confirm Maul’s alive and well. Not that you doubted him. He’s always been stubborn like that. As Marrok gives the report and asks your superior how to proceed, the nausea-adjacent feeling returns to you.
For someone who’s died more than once since you’d last seen him, he was just as he appeared in your memory. Maybe his horns were more developed, his figure filled out, evidence of the last almost twenty years painted across his more mature features, but to you, he was the same little zabrak boy that used to tear up with frustration whenever you’d beat him at petty childhood competitions.
Thinking of Maul again causes phantom pain to ghost along the seams of your mind. The old man had a vicious teaching style with a soft spot for psychic rendings. Whenever you made a mistake, you’d be mentally flayed until you ached for days. Whenever Maul made a mistake, you’d get the same. Not to say he never got his, but the old man had a particular sadism he reserved only for you. After Maul’s death, the practice died down significantly since no subsequent apprentice gave a shit about you.
You’ve been refusing to acknowledge the implications of that.
“By your leave, My Lord.” Marrok’s parting formalities cue you to focus back up. Once dismissed, you can’t get out of there fast enough. Marrok, to his credit, says nothing about your haste.
“So what’s the deal?” you ask so you can focus on something, anything else. “We’ve got this covered. They see that, right?”
Marrok clicks his tongue. “Yes, we have discretion. And you– Were you even listening?”
“No.”
Marrok pinches his helmet where his nose would be. “Sometimes I wonder how you ever learned to fight when you have the shortest attention span in the known galaxy.”
You give him a one-armed shrug. “One of life’s many mysteries. Can we go now? I’m so hungry I’m about to go non-verbal.”
“Promise?”
“You’d be so bored.”
“Not at all.” He gestures for you to lead the way and the two of you make for the ship’s exit. Off-station it is.
Your mind has always been one to wander. What frustrates you is the old habit of your mind wandering back to the same place over and over again.
No matter. Once you kill him, you’ll be able to focus again.
"They left you. They betrayed you. They hurt you."
It wasn't just the constant mental barrage of half truths and words twisted ruthlessly until you could no longer decipher your own thoughts. You could still feel the physical pain long after it was over - the electric agony coursing, stinging, burning through your veins. The smell of your own scorched flesh still lingered everytime you took a breath.
"Do you hate me now? Don't forget how angry that makes you. Let it fill you. Let it consume you. Let it grow until all you can taste is vengeance."
And it did. You let the anger fester inside of your veins like the chemicals they pumped to muddle your mind and dull your senses.
There is only much pain the human body can take before you become numb to everything else. There is only so much anger you can hold inside before you explode. When you explode, there's nothing left of who you were before and no one to pick up the pieces save for the one who made you this way in the first place. All the atrocities in the galaxy can be committed guiltlessly if you believe they wronged you first.
Crosshair knew this better than anyone but it still made him angry. It made him angry to see what they did to you. It made him angry to see how they broke you and built you back up in their own image. Just like him.
Empire. Inquisitor. Good soldiers follow orders either way.
"Don't forget that they left you. Don't forget the pain they put you through."
Don't forget.
Don't forget.
Don't forget.
"Remember the pain, the suffering, the anguish. Don't you want it to end?"
Don't forget who you are.
Crosshair sat on the cold, durasteel floor outside of the ray shielded cell they'd put you in. Force-binding shackles encircled your hands and feet. His brothers hadn't known what else to do. Your red-rimmed eyes starred at him, face contorting with rage. Maybe someday you'd come back to him. Maybe someday you'd forgive him.
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The night was calm, without any movement, and that was how you knew. You could have warned the rest of your team, but you weren’t here to hold their hands. If the got caught in a trap, it would only aid in flushing out the hidden insurgents, and that was fine with you.
You were all disposable tools, discarded once your use to the Empire ran out.
“Leave at least one insurgent alive,” you said, the filters on your mask distorting your voice. “I will interrogate them myself.”
Mere seconds later, ES-01 stepped on a pressure plate and activated several reprogrammed battle droids, including an impressive number of super battle droids.
Amateurs.
The ES troopers ducked behind whatever bits of encampment they could find, and you sensed CT-9904 heading for higher ground. He, at least, was intelligent enough to not get pinned down.
You didn’t bother to run for cover, you simply walked forward, letting the Force guide you as blaster bolts sped past you from both sides. You only ignited your lightsaber when two super battle droids got in your way. You cut them down without straying from your path, ignoring the rest of the droids. The remaining three ES troopers could handle the bulk of the pathetic force, especially with the covering fire from the clone sniper.
In the end, it wasn’t difficult to find the scouts. With your lightsaber extinguished, your robes blended into the night like a specter, and you slayed two of them before the third realized the fight was already over.
You indicated he should kneel before you, and he did, sweat coating his face underneath is round helmet.
“Where are the rest of your friends?” you asked, low and serene. “I know there’s more than you three. Perhaps they’re standing by to extract you?”
The rebel shuddered, but despite knowing his life was yours, he met your eye.
“You’re a Jedi,” he spoke through clenched teeth. “Why… why would you do this?”
Your own teeth wanted to be bared, but you simply held the red, burning blade near his cheek.
“Does this look Jedi to you?”
The fear in his eyes was quickly overtaking the bravery.
“Tell me where they are, or I start cutting.”
When the man remained silent, you brushed the blade against the side of his head. The effect was immediate, as was the sizzle of burning flesh and his muffled scream. It had only been a glancing blow, but his ear was permanently ruined.
Tears trickled down his face to join with the sweat.
“Save… save us both some time…” he said, the trembling worse now. “…And kill me. I won’t talk.”
You crouched next to him, your words soft. Almost sympathetic.
“Everyone breaks eventually.”
He cried out as you grabbed him by the nape of his neck and forced him to the ground. Extending his arm under your knee, you raised your lightsaber, the blade humming louder as if eager for the impending bloodshed.
The blade never came down. Danger and alarm rang through the Force, but when you looked up, you were still alone. It was not your own danger you were sensing.
With a jerk of your hand, you forced the insurgent into a sedated state, and then took off at a sprint. You leapt over and cut your way through the battle droids you couldn’t avoid, giving one last jump that sent you halfway up the nearby cliff face overlooking the camp.
You propelled yourself up the rest of the way, urgency fueling your muscles as you cleared the edge.
The clone was on his back, bleeding through several slashes in his armor. The vibrosword responsible was held in the hands of a droid commando, its yellow markings indicating it was specialized—the kind of droid that would know to sneak up on a sniper rather than face him at a distance.
It raised its sword above the clone, and you jammed your hilt into its back, activating the lightsaber.
The blade erupted through its chest plate, and you calmly removed the vibrosword from its hands before gravity could finish what the droid could not. You tossed the weapon aside and kicked the droid in the opposite direction, making sure it stayed down in the dirt.
CT-9904 stared up at you, panting either from pain or trying to catch his breath, but his teeth were clenched in clear dislike of you. Your lightsaber continued to thrum in your hand, bathing him in a red glow, until you finally extinguished it.
Picking up his fallen weapon, you tossed it back to the clone, and he caught it in one hand.
“Get up,” you said. “We still have a mission to complete.”
DISCLAIMER: I do not own any characters from Dragon Age!!!
(Authors Note: Yes this is based on Memories by Conan Gray)
Pairings: Blackwall x Reader, Cullen Rutherford x Reader
Warnings: Just angsty shit, this is definitely a shifting scenario I thought of and decided to just slap Y/N into
GenderNeutral!LavellanInquisitor!Reader
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“I can’t be your friend, Blackwall.”, Y/N said, walking into the barn. “I just can’t. I thought that I could, but after I told you how I felt-”, they started, only for Blackwall to cut them off.
“I can’t be your lover, Inquisitor. So if that’s what you came here for, if that’s what you were hoping to accomplish from this…I’m sorry to say it can’t happen.”, Blackwall said, knowing the words hurt him more than they would hurt Y/N.
“Why not?”, they asked angrily. “What could possibly be stopping you, Blackwall?”
“You don’t get it!”, Blackwalls voice rised higher before he took a deep breath. “Get over me, Lavellan, I can’t hold you back anymore.”, he sighed.
“Hold me back from what?”, Y/N questioned.
“Falling in love with somebody else.”, Blackwall said blankly. He turned his head, seeing where Cullen sat waiting for Y/N.
“Blackwall….”, they started.
“No. I get it. Go to him, okay? I can’t be with you so I might as well stop holding you back.”, he said, his heart breaking with each word.
It was then he knew. What he felt for the Inquisitor. It was love. Plain and simple like what’s told in fairytales. He could write a thousand poems, sonnets, songs, just about them. Just for them. But he couldn’t hold the Inquisitor back. He knew that he could never give them the life they deserved. He knew that his dark past would catch up to him someday, and when it did, he did not want Y/N stuck in the crossfire.
Y/N didn’t say anything as they walked out of the barn to where Cullen was sitting. They knew nothing they said or did would change Blackwalls mind.
Cullens face lit up when he saw Y/N, “Inquisitor, I’m so glad you’re here.”, he said with a lovesick smile on his face.
Y/N would always feel guilty for being the cause of that smile. Because they knew their heart was not completely Cullens. It was shared with Blackwall, as it will always be.
“Hello, Cullen.”, they gave the best smile they could give back to him. “Let’s get inside your office, we have a lot of war planning to get to.”, they said, knowing that wasn’t the real reason they wanted to go to his office. They just wanted to get away from the barn. From Blackwall. From their heart.
Requested: yes, by the beautiful @raganbridger! Sorry for the wait, it's finally here!
Warnings: angst, dark side!reader, confusion, mentions of bad injuries/blood, betrayal
A/N: You asked for le angst, so here it is! I've had this idea for a long while and this request was the motivation I needed to start. LOTS of alternative endings were written, this was mostly the reason it took so long.
Pronouns of reader: she/her
*ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE! I make mistakes just like everybody else 😉*
x
.
-"oh, good, you're awake"
You sit and inhale sharply, focusing back on the real world, startled at the strange voice.
Well, not so strange per se. You knew who was talking to you. What was strange was why he was talking to you.
Before you can adjust your vision to the unfamiliar environment, the memories from hours earlier instantly come flooding back.
Malachor. The place where jedi go to die.
An easy kill for you and your inquisitor colleagues.
That's what they had said on the ship, at least. You, on the other hand, knew better than to underestimate how slippery those jedi could be - especially if they fought side by side, like they always did.
You remember cornering the younger one during the fight. His skill was minimal compared to yours, which would give you an advantage against his master if he were to die first.
The boy and his friends go after the sith holocron. There had been a blinding light when it was placed at the altar.
And also, the jedi knight who was blinded by your former master, Maul.
Maul.
Not only had the cursed man left you for dead years before, he had come back from hiding to haunt you and join forces with your other enemies.
But you were an inquisitor. You wouldn't - you couldn't let him get the best of you, not this time.
You feel a light hand pressing your forehead and recoil in fear, reaching for your lightsaber, only to feel it was not there.
-"whoah, woah, calm down. I'm not going to hurt you" - it was the padawan you'd been fighting before - Ezra Bridger. He had placed you and his master inside a cave in a planet you were not familiar with when you'd escaped Malachor.
You'd escapd Malachor? But how?
You couldn't have, unless he'd carried you back to his ship.
-"hey, hey, it's alright."
-"what do you want, jedi?" - you wince in pain again.
-"a thank you would be nice, actually. I did just save your life"
-"a foolish mistake. One you will pay for with yours"
You reach out for your lightsaber, but can't feel it anywhere close. Scouring with the force for its presence, you quickly realize he must have hidden it outside the place.
-"Nope, absolutely not" - just as quickly, he slaps your outstreched hand - "I may be an idiot, but i'm not stupid. Your lightsaber's not here, it's caused enough damage already."
You rub the hand he pushed away, more shocked at his actions than anything. How DARE he?
-"Then what do you want from me, if not revenge? Why treat my wounds if not to finish the battle we started?"
-"Listen, I'm not sure if it's the adrnaline or something, but you're in no condition to fight anyone any time soon"
-"You underestimete me, Jedi. Even in these conditions you would be no match for me."
-"Like I wasn't a match for you at the sith temple?"
At the mention of the event, images of the fight start to come back.
Back at the sanctuary, you drew him away from the fight, knowing his strengh lied with his allies. Only, you hadn't imagined your former master to join his side - not until you'd seen the holocron in Ezra's hands, at least. You'd warned him: "he will use it and throw you away. Like he did to me". Needless to say, he didn't listen.
Your vision starts to lose focus at the intensity of your anger and you groan in pain, not able to sit anymore. Driven by instinct, the padawan holds your side so you won't fall completely, pressing your abdomen and making you hiss in pain.
-"ah, looks like I was right. You're conscious, but not healed" - you feel yourself be adjusted back on the ground, too weak to fight him.
-"where are we? Why did you save my life?"
He hesitates, eyes studying you, like you might attack him any second and he still knew it.
-"not so sure" - he finally answers - "maybe because now you owe me one?"
-"Did you hit your head or something?" You scoff - "Make no mistake, I WILL kill you when the opportunity rises!"
-"And that is why your lightsaber privileges have been revoked for now."
You lock eyes, studying him like he had you. It made no sense- you'd followed his group to the sith temple, tried to kill him several times, called for the man who had murdered his strongest ally, Ahsoak Tano. Why was he helping you?
With a shiver, you realize he's still holding your side, not as firmly as before but still providing support for your back. Inhaling sharply, you graze his hand and he lets go instantly, realizing how close the two of you had gotten.
Standing up just as quickly, he brushes a strand of unruly hair our of his forehead, while you you clean your throat, diverting your attention to the exit of the cave. The rain pours on the large trees outside, but you can't make out much except for the fact that you're in a forest planet (maybe a moon?) and his ship is in less than ideal conditions to get out of it.
-"here" - Ezra kneels down with two bacta patches and a piece of fabric from a medical kit -"i felt your back was pretty sore, but didn't want to take off your shirt while you were out. Your cuts need cleaning."
You hesitantly take the items, using the rocks behind you as support to lean your body on. He stands up, hands on hips, and chuckles when you sniff the gel, suspicious.
With the small bit of privacy he gives you by turning around to check on his master, you fumble with your shirt, deciding to take it off in order to see better.
-"Need some help over there?" - he asks, hearing you grunt in frustration at not being able to reach some spots
-"Not from you, thank you very much"
-"Oh, so she CAN say thank you! That's a welcome change"
You throw the rag at his direction, irritated out of your mind. Who does he think he is??
He must sense the harmless ball of soaked fabric coming his way, turning around to catch it mid-air. Now that he's turned, you see a glimpse of amusement in his eyes at your rage, giving you the answer you needed as to why he went through the trouble of saving you; it was merely to see you suffer and laugh at your expense, apparently.
His expression quickly changed when he saw your bruised torso, however.
- "who did this to you?" - he whispers, and you look down at you look down at your sore ~ well, everything~, covered only by a wrap in the bust area.
-"As you said, jedi. I may be better than you, but you still gave me a decent challenge"
"No. I didn't even hit you there." - his serious reaction to your injuries had caught you off guard, you had to admit. - "those are old and deep, you shouldn't even be able to walk!"
-"I'm not, remember?" - you motion at your debilitated situation, unable to even sit down or cross your legs properly -"But i will be, soon. And then it's over for you"
-"you know what? I think if you wanted to, you would have killed me by now." - he shoots back and you're impressed at his audacity once again.
But he had a point. Why hadn't you attacked him yet?
Sure, you had no lightsaber or phisical conditions to stand, but your force abilities were still as strong as ever. You were vulnerable, but so was he, and you weren't kidding when you said you could deal with him even at your worse.
-"you know what? " - you cross your arms. He was playing with fire now - "maybe I might"
-"and why haven't you?"
-"because I wouldn't enjoy it as much." - you snap back venomously - "I want to see you suffer before I bring you to Lord Vader"
His expression darkens at the mention of Ahsoka's murderer. His whole body stiffens as he balls his wrists and clearly struggles to control his anger at the recent loss. For a moment, you fear you've gone too far, but reprimand yourself for worrying about his feelings over yours. You're not supposed to be anything more than indifferent to the weak and ruthless to those who dare oppose you.
-"Yeah, no matter what you do, you're still imperial scum"
You're not prepared for those words to affect you so much. You're supposed to have a response, but nothing coherent seems to come out of your mouth, so you settle for an an uncomfortable silence.
It doesn't last for long, however, as his comlink goes off. It's his droid, asking - no, demanding - that he go help him with repairs on the ship. He hesitates, looking at you and contemplating how bad it would be to leave you unnatended in the company of his defenseless master.
-"Dont worry."- You reassure him. -"I won't make his situation worse. Maul is the worse you can get, and I refuse to step that low"
You can see he doesnt like it, but leaves for a few moments before returning with what must be the droid that talked to him before. It was a C1 series unit with an orange top and a bratty atitude, you could tell that much by just seeing him interact with the jedi.
-"Chopper will stay here, just in case"
-"I understand. It's fine."
-"I wasn't asking if you were fine with it. Behave" - you can't be sure if his command is directed at you or the droid, but you weren't about to ask.
The coldness he now had to his voice was understandable - you had worked to get him to that emotional state - ,but you felt hurt at the change. The droid didn't do much to help you think clearly about what just happened, and by the look of it, your frustration would only grow bigger in the many hours it would still take to repair the ship to a normal flying condition.
'He thinks i'm imperial scum, huh?' - you think as you scour a pile of your belongings with the force, not too far away inside the cave.
Bad news, your lightsaber really wasn't there.
Good news, your wrist comm was.
'i'll show him imperial scum'
With a plan forming in mind, all you had to do now was be patient and wait for the right time. There's no exchange of words between the two of you when he gets back, which makes time fly by before he's betrayed by exaution and finally gives in to sleep. You take care of the droid easily after that.
Activating the tracking beacon, you start to leave the cave, but not before noticing the boy's lightsaber beside him. It was a bold move, he could easily wake up if you took it, but you knew that if he woke up to see you gone you'd need it to compensate for your injuries.
You were still on opposing sides, after all.
You knew there had to be an imperial ship near the planet, and they would pick up your signal in an instant when you called. Wallking to a less dense area of the forest, away from the crash site, you're proven right when, in a matter of minutes, a shuttle tripulated by four troopers and a senior lieutenant meet you on the ground.
-"and what of the jedi?" - the higher ranking woman asks when you finish your brief description of the events that led you there.
Well, not all events. You'd left out the part where Bridger had helped you recover.
You could just tell them to take the two jedi for excecution. You were supposed to do it, in fact.
-"it's just me. And the younger one's lightsaber" - you finally answer, not exactly knowing why you'd deliberately just saved them.
She nods curtly and escorts you back to the ship without a second glance. It was a good story so far, but you would have to work on it if your superiors were to believe it.
-"Wait- " - you start, second-guessing your motives for not giving away their location. One of the troopers turns to you expectantly.
-"yes, sir?"
You hesitate for a moment, ready to do what you'd beeen taught to do your whle life. Kill the jedi.
Kill the jedi.
A tingling crept up your sides, where the padawan had touched earlier to give you support. You try to betray the gut feeling pressing you to do your duty as an inquisitor, but it's stronger than you. Something is forcing your better judgement to be leaving your natural enemies alive.
-"nothing." - the tingle goes away as soon as it had come, leaving an unusual feeling of relief. - "Thought i'd sensed something. Let's leave"
'Perhaps it's for the best'. - you think as the shuttle's door closes. After all, you did owe him one for saving your life - whatever his reason was for doing so.
That was what you told yourself as you boarded the ship, at least. Now, the next time you saw him, there would be nothing to stop you from finishing him and his friends for good.
.
x
Hope you like it? I gave him a 'hands on hips' moment in honour of your videos for a more personalized touch hahahaha
Summary: You and Obi-Wan are forced to work together to fight and survive in Ja’arvis’ arena.
Pairing: Obi-Wan Kenobi x Inquisitor!Reader
Word Count: 6k
Warnings: Angst. Sad Obi and sad reader talking about their feelings towards the end. Oh, and violence/mention of blood. (arena fights do be tough, y’all)
Note: First of all, this gif of Obi >>>> lol. Originally posted by @bo-katan. Secondly, I really enjoyed writing this one. It’s a long one and took forever to write, but I loved every second of it. I’d love to know what y’all think! It’s only uphill from here. Also, I wanna hug Obi.
“Care to remove mine as well?” A tone of dread edges around your words.
This feeling of vulnerability is something you haven’t felt in a while. In the past 48 hours, you’ve felt more exposed and defenseless than you ever have as an Inquisitor. You feel like the Maker is testing you to see how far your body and emotions can go without breaking.
Obi-Wan just looks at you and raises an eyebrow.
“After what you tried to pull earlier? Oh, I don’t think so.” He shakes his head at you, a hint of a smug smile tugging at his lips.
Then suddenly, the dark, grungy walls around you jerk and you feel the room begin to ascend.
Well, this is a sad excuse for an elevator, isn’t it?
“Kenobi,” you start, your energy for arguing has completely evaporated. “At least give me a fighting chance.”
This is as close as you are going to get to saying ‘please’ or asking for help. Obi-Wan looks at you, his eyes analyzing your exhausted form.
“Sorry, my dear, but I don’t trust you quite yet.”
The elevator jerks to a stop and you look up at him dumbfounded.
“Are you serious?” You stare at him incredulously.
His eyes glint with mischief. “Deadly.”
You hear a horrible screeching metal sound as the rusting durasteel door slides open, letting the bright light from the outside beam into the room.
Immediately, you are met with more guards who pull you out and push you forward.
Given no choice but to exit the elevator, the two of you step out with squinted eyes as your pupils struggle to adjust to the new lighting. The door squeaks shut, so now you are trapped outside.
When you are finally able to see clearly, you are met with the sight of thousands of various types of creatures and living beings onlooking your entrance. The roar of the audience’s cheers fills your ears and it’s deafening.
You look around, thankful to finally breathe in some air that isn’t musty or stale. The sky above is a mixture between pink and orange, the air that surrounds you temperate. The arena is grand, almost as large as the one you and Obi-Wan had escaped from on Geonosis all those years ago.
Suddenly a loud voice booms around the entire massive arena and the audience quiets to a low buzz. “Ladies and gentlemen, friends and fans, welcome to The Games!”
You scan the edges of the arena to find the source of the voice. There, front and center, on a raised balcony with the best view of the arena stands a Rakatan male, dressed in what looks like extremely expensive clothing. He must be the infamous Ja’arvis Takun you’ve heard so much about.
“Today I bring my loyal audience a gift that will be the height of entertainment since The Clone Wars!”
Your heart begins to beat faster in anticipation of what’s going to happen. Your mind goes a million miles a minute as you try to calculate a way to escape from this hellhole.
The towering walls that surround the battleground are too high and steep to climb. Without equipment, trying to escape that way would be a death wish. Various doors line the outside rim of the arena and you are almost positive that none of them lead to the outside world. You’re not sure what exactly lies behind those doors and you’re not sure you want to find out.
The bottom of the line is… you’re trapped with no way to escape.
“Today, my friends, I present the Bane Squad versus Kainoa versus two of our newest competitors...” The audience waits in anticipation. “Two Jedi!”
The spectators that surround the battleground erupt into chaos.
Who the kriff are Bane Squad? Kainoa? What did you get yourself into? You’ve truly outdone yourself this time.
“Let The Games begin!”
Your eyes widen when you see one of the other doors open to your right. You see a group of Togruta warriors emerge from one, various bits and pieces of armor covering each of their bodies. You count four of them and each of them look hungry for blood as they grip their spear-like weapons.
Beside you, Obi-Wan ignites his lightsaber. “I hope you still have an audacious mindset, darling, because right now it looks like we could put it to use.”
“Kenobi, you need to let me go.” You say quickly, sticking your bounded arms out in front of you, desperate for freedom. Your eyes dart towards the warriors who march to hunt you down. “I need to defend myself.”
He just smirks at you before he runs off, towards the enemy. “I’m sure you’ll be fine.”
“Kenobi!” You shout after him, seething with anger. Your eyes blaze with fire when you watch him move away. Your gloved fists clench within the cuffs and you feel helpless.
He really hasn’t changed since The Clone Wars, has he?
Deciding to cut your losses, you try to look around for any advantage you could use against your enemy. None. No elevated platforms for a height advantage, no weapons around, no shields; absolutely nothing.
Guess you’ll just have to get creative.
While Kenobi engages with two of the warriors, the other two close in on your position. When one gets close enough to take a swing at you with his spear, he does. You’re quick to react (or maybe he’s just slow) and you parry the blow with the middle part of your cuffs, hoping that the metal would split from the impact and set you free, but it doesn’t. The durasteel spearhead from the weapon splinters instead, leaving the warrior with a long, wooden stick instead.
“What are these damned things made out of?” You mutter under your breath. “The metal won’t give.”
While the Togrutan is frozen in shock at his weapon breaking so quickly, you grab the stick and use it to parry his teammate’s attack on your left. At this, the audience that makes up the arena seems to rile up, cheering louder for you. Stunned by your reflexes, the warrior staggers back and you surge forward on the offensive, delivering striking blows (as deadly as you could with a wooden weapon). The other Togruta comes at you from behind and locks you up in a tight hold, making you drop the wooden weapon.
When the other warrior comes to deliver the killing blow with his spear, you kick your feet out, connecting with his chest and knocking him on his back. Then, you throw your body weight forward to flip the one behind you over your body and onto the ground as well.
Out of breath and your heart pounding with adrenaline, your shackled hands quickly reach forward to grab the dropped unbroken spear on the ground and finish both of your enemies, ending their lives with a stab to each of their chests.
The spectators around the arena go wild at that. Struggling to catch your breath, you look around for Kenobi, wondering how he fared. Expecting to see him as ruffled as you were, you’re surprised to see him staring back at you with an amused look on his face. He’s only a few feet away, having easily defeated his enemies. The wind blows a few tendrils of his auburn hair in front of his left eye. He twirls his lightsaber and deactivates it.
“Well, that wasn’t so bad, was it?” He says, crossing his arms after he clips his saber on his belt.
“Glad to know you’re making a habit of leaving me to die.” You retort, narrowing your eyes.
A smirk makes its way to your face when you see Kenobi’s smug look drop.
“This isn’t a situation we haven’t been in before, you know.” He says, lifting an eyebrow. “You took out three Geonosians and a nexus with cuffs on while we were held captive in Geonosis.”
“Those cuffs didn’t have Force-binding material, did they?” You respond sharply.
Suddenly another door opens on the other side of the arena. When you see the creature that emerges, the onlookers cheer loudly and your eyes widen.
“You must know-”
“Kenobi, we’ve got more company.” You say, eyes darting to the large dragon-like creature stalking closer behind him.
When Obi-Wan turns around, he immediately goes to grab his saber and ignite it.
“Now would be a great time to free me.” You say, anxiety creeping into your voice, but before you finish the sentence, he’s already slashed at your cuffs with his saber.
Finally feeling the Force flow around you once again, you sigh with delight as the metal drops to the ground. But the feeling of contentment only lasts for a second because you have a new problem at hand.
“Jedi, meet Kainoa, my favorite pet.” Ja’arvis says from his seat on his balcony.
“Is that a Krayt Dragon?” Obi-Wan asks incredulously. “What in the blazes is it doing here?”
You use the Force to call the spear you used to kill the two Togrutans to your hand. It may be a weak weapon, but at least it’s something.
“Doesn’t matter.” You say shortly, watching the creature snarl in the nearing-distance. “What’s the plan to kill it?”
“You’re asking me? I haven’t got a clue, I’ve never interacted with one of these before.”
“You’re the one with the saber, Kenobi.” You sigh, growing frustrated with the current situation.
A few seconds pass and he speaks up again. “Alright, I have an idea, but I don’t think you’ll be a fan of it.”
“Get on with it, we don’t have time to wait around.”
“I need you to be a distraction. Let it chase you as I sneak up behind.”
He’s right. You don’t like this plan at all, but it’s the only thing that makes sense right now.
“Always putting me in danger, aren’t you, Kenobi?” You say with a smirk before backing away from him. “Make this quick!” You shout before turning to run and drag the attention of the Krayt Dragon away from Obi-Wan.
“Aren’t you an ugly thing?” You yell to the dragon (or Kainoa as Ja’arvis named it) as Kenobi moves to sneak up behind. The large creature is covered in spikes, you wonder how the former Jedi is going to pull this off without getting injured. You wonder how you are going to pull off distracting the thing without getting injured.
The dragon snarls and begins to chase after you and you sprint away, using the Force to propel yourself faster than normal. Turning around, you aim and throw the spear into Kainoa’s right eye. It screeches loudly and reels back, but it doesn’t distract it for long because seconds later, it’s back onto you.
Not anticipating its quick recovery and increasing speed, the dragon catches up to you swiftly and grabs a hold of your cape with its teeth.
Not good. You think as you’re dragged backwards and onto the ground.
You try to drag your heels into the dirt, but it’s no use. The dragon drags you with it as it runs across the entire arena. You can hear the audience torn between laughs and cheers.
“Kenobi, you planning on joining the fight anytime soon?” You yell, out of breath as more and more dirt coats your body.
“I can’t find an opening!”
You pick your head up and will yourself to focus, looking for a weak spot in the animal’s armor. You spot that its stomach has reptilian skin over it instead of the spikes that cover the rest of its body.
“Go for the underbelly!” You yell, coughing when dirt dusts into your mouth. “If we both work together, we can lift it and expose it!”
“On the count of three, ready?” Obi-Wan responds. “One. Two… Three!”
On ‘three,’ you focus all your energy onto the beast in front of you and it stops running, levitating off the ground with your cape and yourself hanging from its mouth. In a quick flash, Kenobi gets under the dragon and stabs its underbelly, making sure to step out the way of falling guts and blood.
The shriek it lets out is high and blood-curdling, and it causes you to be free from its grip, which sends you tumbling to the ground. It’s so loud you have to cover your ears.
You and the creature hit the ground at the same time, and instead of getting up right away, you stay there lying on the ground face up. Your body aches and throbs all over, and you are covered with dirt, mud, and dragon saliva. You pant heavily, your chest rising and falling quickly, as you try to catch your breath. The stench from the dragon’s breath fills your nose and you wrinkle in disgust.
A minute later, Obi-Wan is above you, offering a hand for you to stand.
You choose to ignore it and stand up yourself, your legs wobbly beneath you.
“Look at us working together again, Kenobi. Who would’ve thought?” You wheeze, coughing a bit due to the amount of dirt that got into your mouth. What you wouldn’t give for a drink of water right now.
“We make a great team.” Obi-Wan smiles at you, a true and genuine smile that makes the edges of his eyes crinkle. It makes your stomach flutter against your wishes. Your feelings for him are returning and you’re trying your best to stop them, but you find yourself unsuccessful.
Whatever moment you’re having with Obi-Wan is interrupted by a loud voice that sounds around the arena. It’s then that you’re brought back into the moment and reality settles back in.
Ja’arvis.
“Well done, well done, Jedi. You two put on quite a show.”
Pulling your gaze away from Obi-Wan, you take a step away from him and a step towards Ja’arvis’ balcony. When your gaze meets Ja’arvis’ form above you, your eyes turn dark when you remember the situation you’re in.
“I am no Jedi, Ja’arvis. I am the First Sister, leader of the Imperial Inquisition. The Empire will come for me, you Rakatan scum. You will regret holding me in your custody.” You say darkly, your eyes burning a hole into him. Obi-Wan watches you curiously.
Whatever playful mood you were in before is completely gone now and replaced by the same stoic face you show to your enemies.
Ja’arvis just laughs, the spectators following along and the sound of laughter ripples around you. Why is it that nobody takes you seriously?
“Doll, the Empire doesn’t know you’re here. Your threats mean nothing to me.”
Unclenching your right fist, you slightly wave it before you say, “You have no need for us here. You want to let us go.”
“Your feeble Jedi mind tricks do not work on me.” Ja’arvis says, annoyance clear in his tone.
You notice guards come up behind you. Your eyes watch them before they snap back over to Ja’arvis’ position.
“You two are lucky I am in a good mood today or you would have been in that arena with Kainoa and her two sisters.” Ja’arvis states with a wiry smile on his face. “Consider yourselves extremely lucky.”
Now, Kenobi decides to speak up. “Thank you for your kindness, Gamemaster Takun. It’s much appreciated.”
You can tell he is being sarcastic, but the way he delivers the line is genuine, which means that Ja’arvis is buying into Obi-Wan’s charm.
“I like that one.” Ja’arvis says with a chuckle before he continues. “Take them to their new quarters. I’ll come to visit them shortly.”
“No thanks.” You mutter under your breath.
When you turn around and are guided by the guards to one of the doors in the arena, you don’t fight them. It’s no use. So instead, you let them lead you to your new ‘home.’
You just hope it has a 'fresher so you can clean all the dirt, grime, and dragon saliva off of you.
—————
The ‘cell’ they put you in surprisingly isn’t much of a dungeon. Sure, it’s a confined living space with no windows, but compared to the tight, grungy room you were held in earlier, your new holding cell feels like a penthouse.
It’s clean and doesn’t smell like the back end of a gundark. The walls are a plain white color and polished duracrete makes up the floor. You’re surprised to see a table in the front corner of the room along with two chairs. Two beds sit in the back corners split by a door to what you believe is the ‘fresher.
Not bad for being held prisoner, honestly. Upon your arrival, you’d expected worse living conditions from your captors.
The catch? You have to share it with Obi-Wan.
The thick reinforced durasteel door locks after the guards leave the room.
Without sparing a glance at Obi-Wan, you sit down in one of the chairs at the table and run a hand through your hair. It tangles through the knotted, dirty stands and you give up when you realize you won’t be able to tame it until you shower.
Finally able to relax after days of nonstop fighting, you sigh in contentment and bask in the silence the room provides you. As exhausted as you are and as peaceful as the silence is, you can’t help but keep your guard up around you. You know better than to completely relax in a situation where you’re in captivity.
You glance over at the door to the ‘fresher in the back of the room. A shower sounds amazing right now, but you can’t help but feel on edge... like you need to protect yourself from a threat.
“I can sense conflict in you.” Obi-Wan says, carefully watching you from a few feet away.
Obi-Wan. Your thoughts had caused his presence to slip from your mind for a brief moment. Maybe he’s the reason why your body won’t let you fully relax. As he stated earlier in the arena, he doesn’t trust you, and you don’t trust him either. You may have worked together to survive, but that doesn’t mean that you can let your guard down around him.
But he hasn’t attempted to kill you. A small voice speaks up in the back of your mind. And it’s true. He hasn’t. Not today, anyway.
During your first encounter at the scrap yard, you’re positive that there were many windows of opportunity for him to strike you with a devastating blow from his saber, but he never did. And when he got his lightsaber from Hondo earlier, he could have struck you down right then and there for putting him in the situation he was in.
Lord Vader had once told you that Kenobi had betrayed you both. That he was brainwashed by The Jedi Code and never cared for either of you.
So why is he looking at you right now with concern etched across his features? Why does he look like he cares?
The realization sends your mind reeling. You must be losing it.
You tear your eyes away from Obi-Wan. “I need to get out of here.”
Before he can respond, the door to your cell hisses open. The same two guards from before come in and act as bodyguards for the one and only Ja’arvis Takun. Upon his entrance, he throws a sack onto the table next to you with a smug look on his face.
Your gaze on him is hard before you glance down at the sack. A few credits leak out from the opening at the top.
“What is this?” You snatch the bag with your left hand.
“Your cut from today.” Ja’arvis responds. “For some reason, the viewers adored you two today. That’s a lot more than an average newcomer receives.”
You steal a glance at Obi-Wan and he looks just as confused as you feel. Credits? Why? You’re his prisoners.
“As you probably found out earlier, both of you are now my gladiators.” Ja’arvis explains. “I paid top dollar for you two and I expect to get a return on investment. However, if everyday is like today, I’m sure that won’t be a problem.”
“If you expect to profit from us, then why give us a cut?” Obi-Wan asks, crossing his arms.
“It’s all a part of the system, my Jedi warrior. With those credits you can buy yourself weapons, armor, luxuries, you name it! Better weapons and armor means a better chance of survival in The Games. The more games you survive, the closer you get to becoming a Champion. Once you achieve the rank of a Champion, you can choose to leave if you so choose, but most decide to stay because they enjoy the lifestyle.”
Ja’arvis looks like he’s enjoying every part of this. He’s a leech feeding off of the downfall of others.
“There is a training room on this floor as well. In that training room is a weapons shop and a workshop where you can tinker with your weapons and armor. You're free to use the training room any time as long as it doesn’t interfere with your schedule. There’s an intercom next to the door that you shall use to summon guards that will escort you there. The training room is the only place that allows weapons other than the arena.”
The Rakatan continues his explanation. “On your beds you will find your uniforms. Wear them. You’ll get a new set after each match. I’ve decided to keep you both together as a team since the audience loves the idea of a new dynamic duo. You are slated to fight in the arena every day of the week except for Tuesdays and Saturdays. Do you both understand all that I have explained?”
You don’t like this at all. Ja’arvis runs a well-oiled machine and the margin for escape isn’t looking too broad anymore.
Does that stop you from getting up to defiantly get in Ja’arvis’ face? No.
Clutching the bag of credits in your hand, you stand up from your chair quickly and immediately the guards react, shifting in front of Ja’arvis to shield him from you.
“How dare you.” You hiss. “I do not belong here, you Rakatan scum. When I leave here—”
You’re about to throw the bag of credits back at Ja’arvis but Obi-Wan swiftly puts his hand over it, freezing your actions.
“I believe what my dear friend is trying to say is thank you for your payment and hospitality, Gamemaster Takun.” Obi-Wan looks at you pointedly. “You have our gratitude. We will be ready for the arena tomorrow. Won’t we, Y/N?”
You glare at Kenobi, then back at Ja’arvis. You can feel the warmth from Obi-Wan’s hand begin to bleed through your glove. You release your hand from the credit pouch and turn away, feeling the loss of his warmth immediately.
“I’m not afraid of you, Ja’arvis.” You say when you turn back around, your voice calmer than before.
“How are you liking your new quarters? Does it fit you well?” Ja’arvis asks, his gaze on you hardening.
You keep your expression apathetic.
“You have my good friend Hondo Ohnaka to thank for that. Any colleague of Hondo’s should receive the best treatment from yours truly.” He thins his eyes at you. “But if you defy me again, I will not hesitate to stick you back in the rusting cage you were in this morning.”
Swallowing, you stare back at him, hate glowing in your yellow irises. You may be defiant, but you’re not stupid. No way you’re going back to that hellhole.
“Understood.” You finally say, clenching your jaw.
And just like that, Ja’arvis is back to his jolly self, acting like his threats never happened. “Good.” He turns to leave, bringing the guards with him. “See you tomorrow, Jedi. Rest well. You’ll need it.”
Then, the door hisses shut and you are left alone with Obi-Wan Kenobi once again. You don’t get to savor a moment of silence before he begins to scold you.
“Must you always act so impulsive? You shouldn’t speak that way to our captor. The last thing we need is for you to anger him and put us in a worse situation.” Kenobi is displeased to say the least.
You sigh, sinking back down into the chair behind you. “I don’t know about you, Kenobi, but I don’t want to be here. I’m not going to show respect to someone who profits off of my downfall.”
“I do not wish to be here anymore than you do, but I know when to pick my battles.” He says, annoyance growing in his tone. “Your impulsiveness is going to get us killed, you know that?”
You glare at him, your bright amber eyes piercing into his figure. “I’m going to get out of here one way or another. For your own sake, I’d suggest staying out of my way.”
“Do you not understand? The only way you or I are getting out of here is through the way of The Games. Nobody is coming for us.”
“There is no ‘us,’ Kenobi.” You snap sharply. “Not anymore. You are the one who doesn’t understand. The Empire will come for me, and once they find me, they will kill you.”
Obi-Wan clenches his jaw and takes a deep breath. One thing he was known for in the past was his patience, and he’s exhibiting it right now as you speak.
“Whether you like it or not, First Sister ,” Obi-Wan begins, and you can tell that he doesn’t like the way the new title feels coming out of his mouth. “We must work as a team if we are to escape.”
“Yeah, okay—”
“You must know that the Empire most likely believes you are dead, right?” Kenobi asks, the start of a fire glowing in his eyes as he looks at you. “Your helmet along with both of your sabers, which are most likely destroyed by the way, lie in the wreckage from the scrap pile that collapsed mere seconds after I escaped with you in my arms. Your welcome, by the way.”
You sigh and open your mouth to speak, but he continues on.
“If there is an opening that we can take advantage of and escape, we will do so with no hesitation. However, until then, we shall work together to stay alive until an opportunity opens.”
You’re silent for a few moments and cast your eyes down to the polished duracrete floor. He’s right. There is no escape. With no weapons in your quarters or knowledge of the complex map, escape is futile. This means that your options are very slim: choose to comply and team up with Kenobi until the Empire finds you or try to escape and get in a worse situation than you are now. You don’t like either, but your choice is obvious.
“What happened to you, Y/N?” It’s a simple question, really, but the way Obi-Wan asks it has so many emotions tied each word.
“I found my true self through the Dark Side of the Force.” Your tone is detached; like you’ve recited those words over and over again to the point where they hold no meaning anymore.
Obi-Wan looks away before his eyes flick over to you. “You know,” he begins, moving to sit on his bed, “after you took your helmet off on Tatooine, I didn’t want to believe it was you.” You stay quiet as he goes on. “You had the same face and voice as the Y/N I once knew, but everything else…”
“What are you getting at?”
“I refuse to believe that the compassionate, strong Jedi I once knew, my best friend, could turn into someone so…”
“Horrible?” You offer, completely void of energy. “Evil? How about monstrous, I haven’t heard that one in a while.” This conversation is not one you want to have at the moment and it’s wearing you out. Actually, all of the events that happened in the last 48 hours are finally hitting you full on and exhaustion that you felt earlier now kicks into full gear.
“Corrupt.” Obi-Wan replies instead, his voice weakening.
And for the first time since your reunion, you see just how much all of this has taken its toll on him. He looks just as exhausted as you feel. Bags have formed under his eyes from lack of sleep and you can see the pain evident in his blue eyes. Eyes that used to be bright with confidence and triumph are now dull with no shine to them. The luster in his gaze that was reserved only for you during the Clone Wars is absent and replaced by an eerie emptiness.
The man is a ghost of his former self… and you don’t know exactly why, but this realization bothers you.
You blink and let his words sink in, too tired to close your mind to them. As much as you want to leave the room and be alone, you can’t.
Curiosity gets the best of you and you vocalize a question that you’ve been wondering since it happened.
“Why did you save me, then?”
Something flashes in his gaze. “Why didn’t you kill me when you had the chance?”
“I could ask you the same thing.” You say, thinning your eyes at him. “Answer my question.”
“You hesitated.” Kenobi claims and his brows furrow.
You did. You remember every moment of that encounter. When finally given the moment to get your revenge, you couldn’t follow through.
You turn, no longer able to look into Obi-Wan’s imploring eyes. He wants an answer, but right now, you are not yet ready to give one to him.
“Tell me why you did it.” You mumble, fidgeting with a thread sticking out of your torn sleeve.
“What was I supposed to do? Leave you in the sand to die and waste away?” His voice has a newfound energy to it that grows with each passing word. “No.”
“Why not?” You ask, snapping your head toward him.
“Because I already lost you once!” He yells, and you can see frustration and sadness within his eyes once again. You’ve caused that. “I’d already lost you once and I wasn’t going to let it happen again.”
His voice sounds so broken . Nothing like the man you once knew.
Moments pass and there is nothing but silence that surrounds you two. You hold each other’s gaze for a few beats before he looks away, taking a deep breath.
You sigh defeatedly. “I was already lost. I still am.” You subconsciously shift in your seat when Obi-Wan’s stormy blue eyes meet yours again. “I was trying to kill you, you know.”
“No.” He says in a low voice, shaking his head. “You weren’t. That was evident the moment you hesitated to land the final blow. You had me at your mercy and you made a choice.”
Kenobi stands up and takes a step towards you, causing you to rise from your position and move away from him.
“Why didn’t you do it?”
There it is. The question you’ve been avoiding. He’s pretty much backed you into a corner physically and metaphorically.
You close your eyes, turning away from him for a moment.
“I couldn’t.” You whisper. “I couldn’t be responsible for the death of my former best friend, okay? I couldn’t do it.” Your voice is sad, and you hate how vulnerable you feel right now, but there is no stopping your emotions. “No matter how many times I was told that you were a traitor and that you along with the rest of the Order were against me… I just… I was weak and I couldn’t follow through.”
You look up to see a flicker of hope appear in Obi-Wan’s eyes. You want to tell him not that you're not capable of being the person you once were, but when you open your mouth, he’s already speaking.
“You weren’t weak, Y/N. You were strong for fighting the call of the Dark Side. You aren’t the monster you portray yourself to be.”
A mask of apathy takes over your facial features.
“21.” You say darkly, taking a deep, shaky breath. Obi-Wan’s eyebrows knit together in confusion. “That’s the number of Jedi I’ve killed over the past two years.”
His eyes widen. It’s the exact reaction you expect.
“Six of them were children.” You continue, staring directly at him. “The rest of them were just Padawans or just barely Knighted.”
Silence.
Now you are the one who senses Kenobi’s confliction. You can feel the emotions clashing within him and how he’s fighting against them.
“I was heartless. Ruthless. I showed no mercy.” You voice, walking a few steps toward your bed. You glance at the uniform that lays upon it. Turning around, you look at Obi-Wan once again. His expression reads concerned, like he’s worried for you.
“I’m the Inquisition’s highest ranking officer, ranking above The Grand Inquisitor himself, because of my achievements in hunting Jedi. Yet, when I found you…” You shake your head and let out a slight scoff. “I couldn’t finish the job. How comical is that? An Inquisitor who couldn’t execute a target due to her pre-existing emotional ties.” You breath out a humorless laugh. “Embarrassing.”
A blanket of quiet falls around the room. It’s a few moments before Obi-Wan decides to speak up.
“There is good in you, Y/N. I can sense it.” He says, his voice strong. “Nothing is going to change that.”
A corner of your mouth twinges up into a slight smirk. “That’s where you’re wrong, Obi-Wan.”
You turn to grab the black uniform on your bed and head to the ‘fresher, wanting nothing more than to put a wall between yourself and the broken Jedi. Upon entering the ‘fresher, you hear Obi-Wan’s voice barely above a whisper. The question he asks freezes your entire body.
“What did they do to you?”
You know exactly what he means by the question. What horrible things did Sidious and Vader do to transform you into the unrecognizable person you had become? What did they say? How did they hurt you? How much were you tortured? What was the extent of your mental wounds? And most importantly… What caused such a powerful, loyal Jedi to crack?
Saying that it’s a loaded question is the understatement of the century.
You try to prevent the terrible memories that threaten to flash on the backs of your eyelids. Just thinking about your transformation makes you feel the pain and suffering of it all over again.
So you don’t turn to look at him when you answer. You don’t want him to witness any more of your vulnerability than he has already.
“You don’t want to know.”
—————
Howling wind blows sand around chaotically as a dust storm begins to brew up on the dry planet of Tatooine. Stormtroopers and probe droids can be seen searching the remnants of a collapsed scrap yard. The Empire is searching for something, or someone .
The Grand Inquisitor steps onto the scene, having freshly arrived from Fortress Inquisitorius. Two Purge Troopers come up to meet him.
“Any sign of her?” He asks, his unsettling figure looming over the troopers.
“No signs of her body, sir. Only these.” One of the Purge Troopers nods to another and he brings forth a broken lightsaber, crushed from heavy impact and deformed from exposure to heavy heat. The Grand Inquisitor takes the saber into his hand and examines it before clipping it to his belt.
Another trooper steps forward with a disfigured helmet; not just any helmet, but the sleek black helmet that belongs to the First Sister. The matte durite of the helmet is completely destroyed, making the helmet almost unrecognizable.
This is all the evidence The Grand Inquisitor needs.
“Bring this to my ship and contact Lord Vader immediately.” He says, his mouth twisting up into a sickly grin.
“The Inquisition is mine now.”
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We Live in Shadow (Maul x Inquisitor!Reader) [Pt. 3]
Synopsis: You've been without Maul nearly as long as you were with him. After the first time he came back from the dead and notably did not seek you out, the massage was clear that you weren't a priority of his. One would think growing up together would've earned you a radio transmission at least. Without his finest protege, Darth Sidious spared you - much to your dismay - and put you to work. A year after the birth of the Galactic Empire, you serve as one of the finest agents of the Inquisitorius hunting Jedi and enemies of the Emperor alike. Maul remains a wound that never fully heals. When you are given a mission to hunt and eliminate him and the Jedi he's allied himself with, you have to fight to avoid showing he caused you any pain at all.
Warnings: Canon-typical violence, unhealthy relationships, mentions of abuse (by Sidious to Maul & Reader), swearing
Chapters: First | Previous | Next (Coming soon!)
Your body tends to do things other than what your mind wants it to. Darth Sidious was always appalled by your weakness. You spent your youth fighting for any and every opportunity to prove him wrong. Every mocking laugh, every look of disdain drove you to madness. Each mistake was yet another piece of evidence proving his point.
You meant to leave Maul as soon as he woke up. He had other ideas, but was helpless to stop you, injured as he was. His pure, unadulterated despair at his disability pierces you through the chest. The horrific feeling of violation that comes with being robbed of one’s own limbs, never to be seen again. Frustration at his new legs, which are the only reason he can walk at all, yet they require constant, painful maintenance where one would think mechanical legs would be less painful.
The hopelessness of watching someone he’s raced countless times walk away on her own two legs while he cannot even stand to follow.
But then your footsteps came splashing through the light stream at the bottom of the underground tunnel. A shot of genuine joy cuts through Maul’s despair. You tuck your helmet under your arm and you glare down at him as if he were the one who prompted you to come back. In a way, he was.
“Can you stand?” you snap. You shake your head. “Actually, I don’t care. Get up.”
Maul needs no more prompting after you take his arm. He struggles to his feet with quiet groans of pain. A particularly loud wheeze escapes him when he puts weight on his injured leg.
You duck under his arm and let it drape across your shoulders. He is considerably taller than you remember, which you probably should have noticed when you were fighting him, but in your defense, you were preoccupied with not losing a limb to him.
You’re expecting to support most of his weight until his strength returns, and you stumble when Maul brings his other arm around and his hand finds the back of your head. Your arms find themselves pinned between you when crushes you to his chest, face buried in your shoulder.
For a moment you think he’s abandoned his years of training as a duelist in favor of just choking you to death. His grip is surely tight enough. Then your shoulder feels wet and logic tells you what’s going on, but you simply cannot believe it.
“Maul?” His name is barely audible as it leaves your lips. You’re forced to brace against his shaking knees.
Slowly, your arms snake around his middle. Nice and steady, like you’re afraid to spook him. Broad shoulders that once stood tall and proud tremble in your hold. Last you saw them was from behind as he walked up the ramp into the ship that would take him to Naboo. For many years, you believed that would be the last time.
Something muffled sounds from him and you have to gently coax his head up to hear clearly. When prompted, he repeats with a wavering voice, “I am so glad you survived.”
It’s a dangerous sentiment that could get you killed if Sidious were to root through your mind. At this point your self-control unravels by the second. You want to tell him you missed him too. That watching him get on that ship years ago was the hardest thing you’ve ever done. How nothing Sidious ever did to you since ever compared to the pain of hearing that he’d been slain by a Jedi.
How does a person tell someone all that? Where do you even start when you’ve spent the last several years caught between two minds: relief that he survived and bitter resentment that he never once thought of you.
It takes a moment for you to realize you’re just staring at him blankly. With him leaning against you, his scent of incense and something herbal threatens to overtake your mind completely. It’s about time you learned to tell him no for once.
“Come on,” is all you say, nudging him along. “I don’t like being underground.”
“I remember.”
It’s just like him to remember something like that. Even though your mild distaste for it has since evolved to a skin-crawling discomfort after you were assigned a mission in a network of underground caves during the Clone Wars. He knows everything about part of you, and that’s somehow worse than if he’d forgotten everything about all of you.
He stumbles and you put a hand on his broad chest. He’s forgone the old full-body robes he used to wear in lieu of a sleeveless tunic with no undershirt. His skin is blazing hot through your gloved hand, which makes you worry if injuries to mechanical legs can still develop infection.
“When you’re out of here, you need to get your legs fixed before you do anything else,” you lecture, irked by the fond look he gives you as you speak. “You may not be a Sith apprentice anymore, but any idiot knows that your body is your weapon and–”
“--weapons require meticulous maintenance. How could I forget?” Maul’s voice lilts with amusement. “I’ve only heard it a thousand times. Though I never thought I’d see the day you of all people quoted our Master’s teachings.”
“Well,” you grunt. “The old man is an evil bastard, but he’s right every now and again.”
There are so many things you could ask him about what happened on Naboo, what he’s been up to since, what his goals are now. In the end you have so much to ask that you ask nothing at all. You spend most of the trek towards the surface marvelling that he’s really here with you. Hope’s a bastard, but so is Maul, and time and time again he drags hope back to you by its scruff.
The injection you gave Maul does its job more and more as time goes on, and his breathing evens out enough that he relies less on you for support. Exhaustion weighs down his entire body, but you can see he’s trying to muscle through as always. His lack of rest is obvious to you, however, because Maul is relatively quiet on your journey when the Maul you remember refused to ever shut up.
When you glance up, you catch him eying the Imperial crest painted on your shoulder. Rather than open yourself up to a spiel you didn’t ask for, you feign ignorance of his line of sight, even when his stare drifts to your face and lingers there. He’d long since gotten into the habit, you’re just surprised it’s carried over.
“If you’re gonna keep staring, I’m putting my helmet back on,” you grumble. You should be used to it by now, but it still turns your ears hot when he looks at you like that.
When he calls your name, you pause. He takes you by the shoulders and you have to look up to meet his eye.
“Come home with me.” Former Sith Lord, once Darth Maul, does not beg nor plead, but this man sounds dangerously close. If you know anything, it’s that when people get vulnerable, they expect you to get vulnerable with them, which is not something you want to do now or ever.
You look at him like he’s insane. “Home to where? To Malachor? Neither of us have a home to return to. You know that.”
Disappointment floods his features at your words. “I have always– No, that doesn’t matter. You know Darth Sidious cares for nothing but power. I am living proof that once he’s exhausted your use, he will dispose of you. Join me, and we can rid the world of him. Of the Empire. Together, we can build a galaxy where children are not ripped from their homes by Sith nor Jedi. I understand that…” He takes a moment to compose himself. “I understand that we’ve been separated for a long time now, however–.”
“A long time doesn’t even begin to cover it!” You don’t need to be shouting, but you are, for some reason. It’s bubbling out of you independent of your control. “It’s been nearly two decades, Maul! I mourned you for half of that!” You shove him away from you, uncaring if he still needs you to stand. He stumbles back a few steps, but ultimately stays upright. “All this time, it’s been me and the Master, and each of the twisted apprentices he’s had since you, while you’ve been running around the galaxy making deals with crime lords and assassinating duchesses! And now you just waltz back in and say, “Hey! I’m not dead, I’m not sorry I didn’t call, help me fight The Dark Lord?””
Maul shakes his head. “Darth Sidious is but a man. A powerful one, but mortal nonetheless. As for your other point.” He takes a step forward. You move to retreat when his fingers brush your cheekbone featherlight. “Do you truly believe I never thought of you in all the time I’ve been away?”
Once, you might’ve melted at his tenderness. If he thinks you’re as hopeless against him as you were before, he’s sorely mistaken.
You have to bite your cheek to keep from yelling at him again. “I have no reason to think you did.”
“My dear Inquisitor.” Your title sounds foreign in his mouth. When did he get this close? Shift a bit and your foreheads will be touching. “When Kenobi cut me in half, I felt the white hot burn of his blade sever my legs from my body. The fall felt like it went on for days. I felt every lingering moment of it. Through my agony, I could only think of one thing.”
Your chest tightens. You want him to shut his mouth right this moment while at the same time you need to know his next words more than you need air. His gaze lingers, roaming down the slope of your nose, across your cheekbones, along the curve of your lips. He takes his sweet time. It makes you want him to shake him by the shoulders and demand he tell you.
“Step away from Lord Maul!” A feminine voice shouts. You spring away from Maul like his very presence is corrosive. Turning to the voice, you see a Mandalorian in red armor aiming a blaster at you, flanked by others of her kind and a lone zabrak. The mission brief did mention he and his brother are - were - twins, and even with the knowledge the resemblance is uncanny.
“Rook, stand down,” Maul commands.
You may have to thank Rook Kast for breaking you out of the trance Maul had you in. In lieu of thanks, you’ll do her one better by not mauling her on sight - no pun intended. An ugly feeling at the sight of her roils within you, soothed only in part by the fact that Maul hasn’t yet moved towards her. Rather, his feet stay firmly planted right by you, as they should be whenever you’re not trying to kill him. Actually, no, even then.
Rook hesitates for a moment, helmet turning ever so slightly between Maul and you. You look at her unimpressed.
“With your boss injured as he is, do you really want to challenge me right now?” you ask.
Whether it’s your threat or another nod from Maul, she slowly lowers her weapon while the others do the same. Pity. You could’ve used some stress relief.
Maul calls your name, though you only grunt instead of giving him your full attention. “You have yet to give me an answer.”
What part of “we have no home” did he not understand? There is nowhere you can run where Sidious would not find you. The old man singlehandedly manipulated the entire galaxy under his thumb. He’d won. Your own dreams of escaping him faded long ago. It’s a pointless endeavor.
When your lips begin to move, even you aren’t sure what you’re about to say. Your mind is ready to tell him no while some other part of you has other ideas.
Until Marrok’s voice crackles through your comm.
“If you’re dead, I will never forgive you!”
You gasp aloud. “Mar!” You raise your wrist to your lips. “Mar, you’re alright!”
You would love to be the mysterious, highly lethal inquisitor in front of Maul’s crew right now, but hearing from the other inquisitor brings you too much joy.
“It is about time you answered! Are you injured? Can you move?” he asks.
Maul watches you all but outright snarling. You hold his stare and reply, “Yes. A few bruises and a slight concussion, but–”
“There is no such thing! Rendezvous to my location immediately. We will return to base and seek medical attention before returning to the hunt.”
“Are you hurt?” You frown when he doesn’t reply. The lack of response tells you plenty and Maul’s crew flinches at the speed at which you put your helmet back on. It reseals to your armor with a soft hiss. Your answer becomes clear on Maul’s face, the disdain he holds for your partner giving way to a flat, impassive expression.
Back in the helmet comm, you tell Marrok, “I’m on my way.”
Meanwhile, Maul’s stare seems to penetrate through your helmet. Hurt radiates off him before any emotion cuts off completely. He nods once, then makes his way to Rook’s side. You are all puppets being played by the Emperor. You’ve long since resigned to playing your role. If nothing else, you like to think you’re quite good at it.
“Do your best to get some distance, okay?” You inject your voice with as much mocking cheerfulness you can muster. “Missions nowadays get so dull, Mar and I could use the challenge.”
The other zabrak shouts in rage, firing his blaster at you. You draw your blade and deflect the shot into the wall with a flick of your wrist. With a connection back online, you know just where to cut into the metal wall to give you direct access to an escape route. Your blade cuts through the metal like butter. Just before you jump through, you wiggle your fingers at the group.
“Until later.”
And then you’re gone.
No sooner are you out of sight that Rook and some of Maul’s entourage rush over to the hole you’d disappeared through.
“My Lord,” Rook says. “She is alone and injured. We outnumber her by far. If we pursue her, we have the greatest chance of having one less Inquisitor at our backs. We cannot let her go.”
Maul simply turns back the way they came. He limps on until Icarus moves to help him.
We Live in Shadow (Maul x Inquisitor!Reader) [Pt. 2]
Synopsis: You've been without Maul nearly as long as you were with him. After the first time he came back from the dead and notably did not seek you out, the massage was clear that you weren't a priority of his. One would think growing up together would've earned you a radio transmission at least.
Without his finest protege, Darth Sidious spared you - much to your dismay - and put you to work. A year after the birth of the Galactic Empire, you serve as one of the finest agents of the Inquisitorius hunting Jedi and enemies of the Emperor alike. Maul remains a wound that never fully heals. When you are given a mission to hunt and eliminate him and the Jedi he's allied himself with, you have to fight to avoid showing he caused you any pain at all.
Warnings: Canon-typical violence, unhealthy relationships, mentions of abuse (by Sidious to Maul & Reader), swearing
Chapters: First | Next
The only redeemable quality of Orsis Academy is that you got a room to yourself, and even that was sheer luck of the draw. Freedom from the old man’s constant yammering only became the constant yammering of other geriatrics who seem to get off on bossing people around. And the food’s not even good. Five years of this nightmare was enough to drive a person mad.
You recline against your headboard, tossing a small handball against the wall and catching it with the same hand. There wasn’t much on offer by way of entertainment if one didn’t find joy in running laps or sparring or meditating or any of the other mind-numbing exercises you do during the school day anyway.
Maul walks straight in without knocking.
“Go away,” you deadpan.
He shoves your legs aside and takes up way more than his fair share of space on your bed. When he snatches your ball out of the air, you don’t retaliate.
“Are you deaf?” you ask with a glare. He returns the expression in kind.
“Since when do you ever skip a meal?” He demands, to which you roll your eyes. “You eat like someone’s going to rip the food out of your mouth.”
Maybe he’s not deaf, but definitely dumb.
“Don’t think too hard or else smoke will come out of your ears.”
You sit up and snatch the ball out of his hand with half a mind to bounce it off his head. What does he care? You’re surprised he even noticed with the way things have been nowadays.
“You’re just upset Kilindi scored a point higher than you on the last exam,” Maul taunts. How brave. Brave but stupid. He’s been on the other side of that scathing look you’re giving him long enough to where it’s lost much of its effect.
“Just for that, next time we spar, I’m going to rip the little Nautolan’s stupid head-danglies off and beat her with them,” you hiss through clenched teeth. “I’ll let her know who to thank.”
No sooner has the threat passed your lips when the girl in question appears in your doorway, her fragile human companion lingering over her shoulder.
“There you are, Maul!” she says cheerfully. You grind your teeth at her ignorance of you despite this being your room.
Gesturing with her hand, she says, “We’re about to go play cards in my room for a bit before lights out. Come with us!” The invite is not extended to you, as expected.
You’re just about to shoo everyone out when Maul replies, “Go without me. I have plans.”
The girls visibly deflate, which you admit is satisfying to see, but they accept his rejection and move on without a word to you. Meanwhile, Maul shoves something into your chest before hopping off the bed to dig around in one of your drawers.
You take the object to find a neatly wrapped sandwich. From a glance, it looks like it has all the ingredients and condiments you would’ve put on it yourself. You stare at it like it’s going to bite you. Maul makes a sound of victory, holding up a pack of cards. He gets back on the bed, makes himself comfortable like he owns it, and starts shuffling the cards.
“Go spend your evening with someone who wants you,” you snap as he deals them out.
Maul doesn’t look up from his task. Picking up his hand, he says, “Do you have any sevens?”
~
You nearly eat shit when someone yanks the emergency stop cord on your treadmill. Your foot doesn’t respond to your command and you stumble just before a lifetime of training kicks in and you catch yourself. Hands clamped down on the side rails, you turn to glare at Marrok.
“Didn’t know you wanted to kill me that bad, Mar,” you greet him with a tense smile. It’s then that you finally register your burning lungs and your heart pumping so hard you taste blood.
“You would be the last to know,” Marrok says dryly. He tosses the cord aside. Leaning back against another machine, he asks, “The patrols found a new lead. We’re on.”
“Fine.” Sweat drips down your temples. It drenches your hand when you swipe it across your forehead. A sideways glance at the machine’s displays reveals you’ve been lost in your memories for over an hour. Your heart rate looks to have been at dangerous levels for the majority of that time. You’ll have to be more careful about that. Your hips are going to punish you severely for this in a few hours.
Marrok’s already battle ready, his armor arguably less imposing under the cheap cool lighting of the workout room. He may have his helmet on, but you can feel his judging stare.
You put a hand up and make it talk alongside your worst Marrok impression.
“Why are you exerting yourself outside the mission? We must be ready at all times! Meh meh meh!” you say with a low-effort imitation of his deep tone.
He crosses his arms, falling in step with you as you gather your things and head for the exit. “I make an excellent point, as usual. If you whine about being tired while we’re hunting Jedi, I’ll leave you behind.”
You rotate your ankle around. The blood vessels in your foot throb uncomfortably. Your own fault for daydreaming about idiotic memories that may as well belong to someone else.
“Fine, but if you can’t keep up with me, I won’t wait for you,” you say with a wink. It’s weak, you’re not even in the mood to plaster on a shit-eating grin and Marrok notices the inconsistency. His sigh comes out funny through the modulator.
“Just go wash up. I can’t sit in a shuttle with you like this.”
You give yourself a compulsory sniff. As you do, he wordlessly turns down the hall in the opposite direction. No doubt no matter how quick you shower, he’ll still have something to say when you regroup. You roll your eyes.
“Rude.”
Same old Maul. Always first to engage, last to retreat. In another life, he’d have made one hell of a hero. Then again, when it was the two of you plus the old man, he always rushed ahead of you because he was a little teacher’s pet with something to prove. You wonder if he’s really a good leader now or if he’s still trying to prove something about himself. To whom, you aren’t sure.
It’s like he’s trying to get himself killed. You watch from the ship as ground forces engage Maul and his group on the underground bridge. He defends their six until the last makes it past a gate before he goes through himself. No sooner does the gate close, separating the group from your forces behind them, that your ship descends to let you and Marrok out.
You land gracefully beside your partner. You cock a hip in wait for what Maul will do next. Maul growls and engages his weapon. The first thing he does is lead you away from the rest of his group. It’s an obvious play. You almost send Marrok along without you for a few minutes so you can give them a beating just on principle. Things as they are, you’re not in a good or bad enough mood for it, and you’d rather be fighting Maul anyway, so you elect to ignore his people for now.
You’re drawn to a lower section of bridge. Maul lets out a pained cry when he lands, his leg spasming and he grips it with his hand to stabilize it. The old man tolerated no signs of weakness. To hear him show any sort of pain makes those days feel light years away.
“Focus!” Marrok snaps through the comm. You push the thoughts aside and align with your partner to rush your opponent. He parries your strike before shoving Marrok away with a harsh force pulse.
“The narrow bridge is to his advantage,” you tell Marrok when he recovers. “Follow me.” Marrok takes off after you down the length of the bridge, Maul hot on your heels. He’s nothing if not consistent. Whip him up into enough of a frenzy and he’ll charge like a stampeding animal anywhere you lead him.
The skill gap is not so obvious with Marrok by your side in a two-on-one, but Maul is a better fighter than anyone has any right to be. He’d get so angry when you were younger whenever you picked up a skill faster than he did. It was infuriating to watch him silently seethe over you when you knew given time he’d surpass whatever natural affinity you had several times over. It took work, but he was always gifted through and through. Besides, he cared infinitely more than you did, which was at all, so it only made sense that he’d turn out to be the better of the two of you.
That fact didn’t ease the sting of how well he was holding up against both you and Marrok, even while injured. His mechanical legs spark and clank and whir wildly as he fends you off. Anyone who didn’t know better wouldn’t notice the momentary flashes of pain that cross his face nor the twitch in the one leg where Marrok kicked him.
Maul takes a slash at your arm so fast your blade has already intercepted it before you register it at all. You catch his blade between the two of yours, forcing them all downwards so Marrok can come around and plant a kick on the underside of Maul’s chin. He stumbles back with a growl.
You’re not fast enough to dodge his leg sweeping out and sending you onto one knee. Then Maul uses the force to slam you face first into the ground. Your teeth clack painfully against the inside of your helmet. You taste blood, vision swimming.
Maul stands over you as you roll onto your back. Half a second before you raise your blade to block his swing, Marrok jumps in and reengages him, pulling his attention off you. You’ll jump over the side of this platform before you let either of those two endure this fight longer than you, so you kick your legs and right yourself before charging back in.
Seeing you close in, Maul retreats through a waterfall that you didn’t even realize was there before now. You jump through first, followed by Marrok.
Water hisses into steam against your hot blades. You scan the caves. No sign of Maul. Marrok nods and the two of you split off, blades at the ready. You’re well-aware you’re not going to find him hiding behind any rocks. If he wanted to hide indefinitely, he could. It’s only a matter of time before he takes his window of opportunity and attacks. Which of you he’ll choose, though, you aren’t quite sure.
A large mass lunges down at you from above. You parry, gritting your teeth when you riposte directly into his waiting counter. You trade blows before Marrok comes out of hiding and lays Maul out flat on his back with a swift kick to the chest. Before he recovers, he forcefully sends him backwards into a rock. His body snaps back so violently even you hurt. When he tries to stand, his mechanical leg sparks and he drops to a knee.
There’s no honor in killing a man while he’s down, but you’re no paragon of morality nor have you ever been. There’s no honor in losing, either. Only death or humiliation.
So what’s wrong with you? Why can’t you move?
There is no force hold over you. No one holding you back. All there is is you, Maul, and the image of his leg giving out beneath him replaying itself in your mind.
Marrok charges ahead and engages, though not before Maul rallies himself. You curse yourself for your moment of hesitation. The old man has his faults, but it’s his harsh, exacting ways that made you strong. A moment of hesitation, a moment of mercy can alter the course of your entire life. Or end it.
The fight has crept closer to you - Marrok being ever the strategist - and you shake your head to drive self-doubt from your mind. When the moment arrives and Maul’s guard is too high, you strike, thrusting your blade into his leg where the metal instantly melts on contact.
A cry of pain so guttural it pulls an audible gasp from you claws its way from Maul’s throat. He falls to the ground, leg spasming against his will, hands clutching his own malfunctioning limb in an ineffective attempt to stifle it.
There is no mercy. Let the hate flow through you.
You take a step towards him.
“You were the old man’s perfect apprentice! No one compared to you!” Your voice wavers under the exertion of keeping it level. “So how is it that you’re here with your own body working against you?” you demand to know. Someone must have these answers. It’s not you, so it must be him.
He remains silent. How ironic when he loves talking as much as he does. You can’t bear to look at him any more. Not when he looks up at you with that pathetic look on his face. The one without a trace of blame or ire at the sight of you. He’s the only one.
The quickest way to get him to stop is to close those golden eyes forever. You cross your blades, ready to separate his head from his shoulders when something bashes into you from the side. You go careening off into a rock, once again smacking your head against the hard surface.
You look to see Marrok about to send an orange zabrak to meet his maker. The man is a good partner and an excellent Inquisitor, but you simply cannot allow him to take this kill from you. No one is allowed to disrespect you and avoid death by your hand.
Connecting your two lightsabers, you order, “Back.” Marrok immediately jumps away from his opponent.
You’d never thrown your lightsabers like Maul had before, but there’s a first time for everything. The dual blades spin in a stunning arc of red light. The force guides it in a perfect elliptical straight through the zabrak at the waist. You’ll have to thank Maul later for that new addition to your repertoire.
The zabrak collapses and you send his body out the way it came with a flick of your wrist. A faint cry of anguish comes from that direction, but it’s his fault for getting involved in the first place. One would think he’d be more skilled when he so readily took on two Inquisitors.
Maul watches his kin’s body be tossed aside like common refuse. His expression completely crumples in pain. You wonder what you looked like when the old man broke the news of Maul’s own “death” to you.
You wait for the buzz of satisfaction to take effect. In his absence, he developed companions on his own while all you had was the old man and the mind games he plays. This loss is not a fraction of what you felt since he’s been gone.
But the feeling never comes.
Maul kneels on the ground, shoulders slumped. Slowly, his hands raise higher and higher. You take an instinctual step back. Surrender? You don’t think Maul knows the word.
“There is no surrender,” Marrok says as he advances on Maul, blades spinning. “The Emperor wants you dead.”
You dash forward. “Marrok, wait!”
“Likewise,” Maul growls. The walls and ceiling begin to crack. As rocks and debris rains down, you use the force to keep the worst of it off Marrok as best you can all while closing the distance between you and Maul. His will to survive is greater than anyone’s you’ve ever encountered. You won’t be crushed so long as you’re near him.
He sees you coming and dashes toward the back of the cave system with you hot on his heels. You hold protection around Marrok as long as you can before the space between you becomes too great.
“You better be alive!” you shout into the mic.
A heavy groan sounds in your ears and you can only count on one hand times you’ve ever been happier.
“Ew,” you mutter to yourself. Did you really just think that?
“What do you mean ‘ew’?” he snaps. “Keep after him! I didn’t get crushed for nothing!”
Ahead of you, Maul jumps off a ledge in an effort to shake you. You smile to yourself knowing the gap is closing. He hasn’t outrun you since you were in your teens.
“Right, I was busy not doing that,” the sarcasm rolls off your tongue. “Don’t worry, I basically have him.” The ledge approaches and you jump, aiming for the next surface.
Except there isn’t one. You find yourself in what must be hundreds of feet worth of freefall. You shriek in terror and Marrok calls your name in a voice with something suspiciously reminiscent of concern.
You tumble through the air head over feet. Below you, Maul braces his lightsaber as the two of you approach a sudden stop. As he breaks the surface, you stick out both hands in an attempt to use the force to slow you down. The wind whistling through your air intake bellows instead of shrieks. You pass through the hole Maul made only to strain under the exertion of keeping your body from impacting the immovable force that is the ground. Every muscle, sinew, ligament, and bone within you screams in pain.
Finally you crash into the ground, tumbling what feels like thirty feet. For what feels like the millionth time today, your head impacts the ground with every bounce. To add insult to injury, you finally come to a stop in what may or may not be sewer water.
You let out a wheezing groan. One wrist protests with impunity when you roll it, but at least it responds. The other dangles numb and useless.
Your wrist joint locks with a faint click and immobilizes your injury. Those Empire engineers definitely earn their keep.
“Hey, Mar? You alive up there?” The only thing that responds is dripping water further down the tunnel you’ve found yourself in. “Mar, if you can hear me, hit comm three times.”
Nothing. You must be too far down.
You gingerly get to your feet and thank your lucky stars - who normally do not tend to earn their keep - that none of your lower extremities seems to be broken beyond use. The fact that you were mostly intact previously was likely a factor.
The same can’t be said for Maul, who was on his last legs when he fell, no pun intended. You whip around to find him facedown not far from where you fell originally. Legs weak, you stumble over to him, letting out a shout of frustration at your blurry vision. You remove your helmet and throw it aside as you kneel at his side.
“Maul?” you say softly as if being too loud will be the thing that knocks him dead.
When you roll him onto his back, you’re relieved to find no massive hemorrhaging. He’s fully unconscious, yet somehow still looks to be in acute pain - brows pinched and expression wavering. His legs glitch and twitch completely separate from the stillness of his organic half. Upon examination, you click your tongue at their abysmal lack of maintenance. They’re a master craftwork with novice-level repairs, complete with shoddy welding and scrap metal that scavengers wouldn’t look twice at. Then there’s the gaping hole in them courtesy of yours truly. You run your fingers along the ragged edge. They spark and you yank your hand back as his whole body spasms.
The pain squeezes a heavy wheeze from his lungs. You can hear his teeth grinding together from where you’re keeling. Watching him when he was once the old man’s perfect apprentice - the one all subsequent followers of Sidious contained aspects of - is too much for you.
You produce a medicated syringe from a compartment in your armor. You feel along his upper thigh to his hip. It, too, is metal and the mechanical lower half turns out to take up much more real estate than you thought. The fact that he survived such an injury is nothing short of a miracle. To have survived, thrived, and competed with agents of the Imperial Inquisition is a feat you have no choice but to give him full credit for.
So that rules out the preferred injection site. No matter. His tunic is mostly open-chested anyhow, so it doesn’t take much to tug at the bottom of the V and expose his well-toned stomach. Looks like prosthetic legs lead a person to focus on other parts of their body instead. You inject the medication and within moments the perpetual scowl melts off his lips. His brows unfurrow, his breath evens out. He looks younger without it, though the years that have passed still show on his mature face. With him this close, he doesn’t feel real. You mourned his loss for years before rumors of a red zabrak terrorizing the intergalactic crime communities surfaced. Even though you never reunited during the Clone Wars, his return made it seem as though the fates’ vendetta against you was not absolute. Until the news of the zabrak’s disappearance came around and you went through losing him a second time. The old man laughed and called you pitiful. Dooku was less antagonistic, but he was no ally of yours.
Dark circles mar his undereyes. Though it pains you to say so, each hit you landed on him today would have been impossible against him in peak condition.
Having nightmares again? I don’t blame you.
You brush the back of your fingers against his jaw, down his nose, along his cheekbones. He’s real. He’s alive.
You can’t kill him here. That much you can admit to yourself. Ten minutes and several stories ago you might have. But to have him die alone down here without even knowing what’s going on is simply too cruel a fate for someone who struggles so valiantly.
Nor can you leave him alone down here. Not unconscious. Who knows what creatures reside in the dark waiting for vulnerable prey? Marrok will be throwing a fit right now, and you’d really rather not face his wrath. You lean over Maul, calling out to him.
“You need to wake up now, Maul,” you say. “Wake up.”
Maul avoids sleep because his nightmares force him to relive the most agonizing moments of his life. One would think living each experience was enough, but no, his own mind seems hell-bent on reminding him how powerless he’s been over the years.
Sometimes he’d have nightmares of the day Savage was slain. The Emperor’s chilling laughter alongside his brother’s final words echoing his ears. The day he was taken from his mother is a less common occurrence, though its rarity only aggravates the wound. Other times he’ll be betrayed by his allies or bisected by Kenobi. His mind wants for nothing when it comes to traumatic events in Maul’s life and starves for memories of peaceful times.
In quiet moments he thinks of you.
Asleep he has no control over his dreams. When he meditates, he lets go of the pain of the past, the present, the inevitable anguish of the future. Instead he can reminisce in memories of happier times. Or happy as they can be given the circumstances, and the majority of such memories just so happen to include you.
You’re not much older than twenty and the scar across your lips has fully healed. You’ve grown calmer with age, more inclined to entertain yourself while you and Maul carry out the Master’s bidding. Maul looks on as you shrug your tunic back on after a lengthy sparring session, leaving it partially undone to allow your sweat to evaporate against your hot skin. His gaze traces along your collarbones and the exposed part of your upper chest. White hairline tracks trace their way in and out of each other in a violent lightning storm. Neither of you make quite so many mistakes any more, though that doesn’t stop the Master from keeping on with your punishments for something or other.
“Yeah, yeah, go on and gloat,” you fake a dramatic sigh. “Add another tally to your win streak.” You turn away to get a drink of water, but he still catches the quirk of your lips.
“A Sith lord does not gloat. Victory is inevitable.” He rests his hands behind his back. “That makes fourteen in a row, by the way.”
You snort. “How humble you are, Lord Maul.” You flop down on your back in the middle of the training circle.
Maul walks over to stand above you. He hopes the flutter in his stomach at your use of his title isn’t too obvious.
“One of us has to be,” he deadpans.
You pat the ground beside you. While Maul would never do such a thing during training, the Master didn’t seem to care what you did after you finished for the day. He obliges you, settling perhaps closer to you than expressly necessary when there was an entire practice ground around you.
Maul waits for a witty retort that never comes. He looks over to see you staring at the night sky streaked with green and purple and red intertwined with the distant cosmos. Your brooding is a rare break from your constant chatter, but the silence proves unpleasant.
“What are you thinking about?” he hazards to ask.
You don’t say anything for a while and he worries he’s upset you somehow. He’s not sure what he possibly could have done in the last five minutes to earn the silent treatment, but he’s no stranger to your moods.
“This is nice,” you finally remark. Maul remains silent in waiting for your follow-up. His patience is awarded soon after. “Life nowadays is just so boring. We do as the old man says day in and day out, we train, we eat and sleep when time allows, and when we’re done, the cycle starts over again. It’s so monotonous I could die.”
“Death seems like it would be the last thing to solve your problem,” Maul replies to which you wave a hand dismissively.
“But then I’d be dead and I wouldn’t have to worry about it,” you respond. You breathe in the night air, letting the breeze caress your face. “When we’re on separate missions, it’s boring, even if I’m getting shot at the entire time. But when we’re training or on the same mission, it’s fun again. Except I never get to see you any more because you’re busy prepping for the grand reveal.”
Maul spares a glance at you. The lights around the training grounds cast a shadow on your face while you purse your lips.
“Anyway, we’ll only get less time together moving forward, so I just wanted to say thank you for the time we got,” you finish without pausing for breath, talking so fast he struggles to decipher what you’re saying. Even though the words are clear, Maul is unnerved by the sentiment. This line of thought is both uncharacteristic and too close to a goodbye for comfort.
Maul struggles to find the right words. “When I return from Naboo–”
His mouth snaps shut when you roll over and prop yourself up above him. The lights around the training ground halo around your face. Your body heat burns him through your tunic. Maul holds his breath as you slowly lean down towards him.
“Maul,” you whisper.
“Yes?” It feels like his chest weighs a million pounds. He can’t get a steady breath and fears he won’t hear your next words over the rapid drumbeat of his hearts.
“You need to wake up now, Maul.” Your voice is now harsher, more tired. Maul rarely gets the pleasure of having this dream, but the moment is seared into his memory. Back then, you’d said–
“Wake up.”
When Maul’s eyes flutter open you let out a sigh of relief. You’re not sure what you would’ve done if he’d ended up in a longer coma. To hand him over to the Empire would be to kill him, but you’d be out of a job and a pulse if you brought him back to his crew.
Golden irises look up at you in wonder. In his weakened state, his thoughts flow through the force with ease.
“So I’ve perished.”
You look at him wondering just how hard he hit his head.
“You’re not dead, idiot!” you inform him with very little patience afforded to someone who fell down a chasm. You have that right considering you fell down that same chasm.
Maul’s wits return to him over the next few moments, but instead of getting up, he lies back down and closes his eyes.
“No!” you yelp. “No, no, don’t go back to sleep! Otherwise you might not wake up. We probably have concussions.”
It takes him some time to rally himself enough to sit up onto his elbows, only to promptly lower himself back down and close his eyes again. He cracks an eye open.
“What do you mean ‘we’? Are you hurt?” This time he actually sits up to take you by the chin, slightly tilting your bruised face back and forth in search of substantial damage. You brush his hand off.
“I’m fine! My vision’s barely blurry!” you huff.
“Blurry?!”
“Anyway!” You stand, brushing invisible dirt off your armor. “Now you’re awake, it would be too easy to try and kill you now, so today’s your lucky day! You have a little head start while I meet back up with Marrok. Try to make finding you a bigger challenge, ok? Mar could use the enrichment.”
Waves of Maul’s irritation and disgust radiate off him. Riling him up is just too easy, as it always has been. Him and that pride of his. While he wrestles with his emotions, you turn with a wave over your shoulder. Once you’re topside, your comms should come back in and you’ll have to convincingly lie to Marrok about why your comms were down for so long.
“Wait!” Maul tries to come after you, but his leg sparks and he drops back down into the stream of water under him. The ensuing splash gets into his open circuits, further damaging the electronics. He lets out a guttural cry of pain, clenching his thigh.
It pains you to see him this way, though it shouldn’t. You’re always coming after him, but after he came back from the dead, he couldn’t even send you a message. Even without that, you and him are no longer on the same side. He’s built multiple enterprises without you and you are a damn fine Inquisitor.
And if you don’t walk away now, who knows if you’ll be able to later.
And so he watches you walk away, physically unable to follow. His despair and sorrow cuts through you long after you’re out of view.
