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eloquentmoon · 1 year

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By The Light Of The Second Moon

A Darth Maul x F/AFAB!Reader Fanfiction

chapter eighteen: all that glitters

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CHAPTER SUMMARY: Your dazzling new life on Coruscant is not all that you dreamed it would be. RATING: Explicit. This work is strictly for those 18+ due to sexual content. MINORS, DO NOT INTERACT. CHAPTER WORD COUNT: 6.7k CONTENT/TRIGGER WARNINGS: Listed beneath the cut. CHAPTER SONGS: without you, ursine vulpine, annaca. love you more, llynks. A/N: Hello lovely readers. A friend's OC appears in this chapter - Risha was created by @elledjarin. A big thank you to her for letting me write her character. Apologies for the absence, I needed a break. But now I'm back and ready to finally wrap up this story. Beware, this is an angsty one. Eternally grateful for your support, El ♡

CONTENT/TRIGGER WARNINGS: loneliness, confusion, betrayal, trauma response, panic attack, threat, violence, murder.

Chapter Eighteen All That Glitters

“Keep your head down,” instructs Maul rather sternly, draping you in one of his inky black robes. He slowly lifts the large hood to hide your face, his touch lingering, as though he is hesitant to hide you away. He then raises his hood, concealing his own distinctive features. He takes your small bag, filled with all your belongings in the galaxy, and grips your shaking fingers in his own. Without a further word, he gently helps you down the entry ramp and to the surface of the planet, and into the very heart of the Republic, the thriving hub of the Core worlds.

The next few hours swarm with urgent movement. Time streams past you like the leaves of the Great Wood in autumn winds. Maul was able to stealthily land the starship in a vast docking station, and the gleaming durasteel of its flooring looks as though it stretches on forever. Your legs quiver with each step you take, the metallic thud of your footsteps foreign to ears so used to soil. Your stomach turns with every industrial sound, with every droid that buzzes by, each bright artificial light hurting your eyes. The constant flurry of people makes your strained vision swim with vertigo. All different kinds of people you have never seen before, so many people. You and Maul move swiftly, hand in hand, going up and down platforms, in and out of carriages that shoot you through the vast city. This vibrant forever city. It never seems to end.

Maul takes complete control, so knowing and determined, his eyes fixed forward beneath his hood, silent. Every so often he places his palm on your lower back, as if to check that you're still standing. His competence is an anchor to the commotion of the newness around you, a comfort to your complete ignorance and lack of understanding. You don’t have much choice other than to trust that he knows what is best for you. Your anxiety builds with every step, his words from the starship ringing in your ears. You look up to try and distract yourself, watch for the clouds or the stars or the moons - but all you can see are buildings. You can no longer even see the sky, now you are so deeply entrenched in this city-planet.

As you whizz through this strange and unfamiliar metropolis, you find yourself circling back to the same fixation to cope with the chaos of this new place. Your fear is held back in your own strange, disconnected way. You focus on a silent quest that you have never had the opportunity to embark on before. You realise that you are looking at each person you pass in their face, scouring their features for something, some kind of recognition. After what feels like an hour you make sense of what you are doing: that you are seeking the features of her. Your Mother. You see her in each of the hundreds of skin tones, each new race, each gender and style of person. You see her in the odd buskers that play strange instruments on the streets, you see her in the women that huddle together and squeak at one another in excitement. You see her in the parents that coddle their children, in the street vendors and market stall owners, the pompous folk strutting around in flowing robes as though they are floating. But you mainly see her in the faces of those who suffer. You see her in the bodies that litter the ground, without an aim or a home. You see her in the drunken souls that shout and holler through the crowds, the crying children and angry men. You see her in those that wander the streets in obvious involuntary solitude. You surprise yourself, because though it is spiteful, you catch yourself hoping that you will see her in a state similar to those that have clearly been broken by the unkindness of living. You want to see her intoxicated, destitute and alone. Because one question spins through your mind as Maul leads you through the biggest city in the universe, as resentment and fury burns inside your guts.

How could she leave you?

You wonder if she would recognise you, if she saw you now. If she’d cry in relief, disbelief or amazement. If she’d shrivel up in shame. What if she has a whole new family? That last thought forms a lump in your throat, and suddenly you want her to feel pain, feel your pain: the pain that she caused by leaving you. Any understanding or empathy you held for her now dissipates in the hot, polluted air. You are shaking now, not with trepidation, but with rage. Your temper blossoms wildly, replacing all of your apprehension and excitement. Your eyes sting with the threat of unshed, wrathful tears. Maul does not react, though you know he must be sensing your discontent. He pulls you along, holds your hand a little tighter, and you continue your silent search for your mother in the faces of strangers.

The more time that passes, the more people, speeders, noises, smells and sights you encounter. The more unique faces that you interrogate with scowling eyes. Until soon, Maul stops, and sits you down gently on a bench in what appears to be a small food district, placing your belongings at your side. You keep your eyes tracked on him, wide, disbelieving. Your own rage is set aside as you notice that Maul seems agitated, as though he is on edge and raring to separate himself from you. Your stomach drops, fury transforming into dread, as you are suddenly and vibrantly aware of his wishes, of how naive you have been. His true nature dawns on you once again, his priorities, his life’s purpose. The conversation you had with him in the starship comes back to you once more, and you wonder what tiny sliver of significance you even are to him? What space, if any, do you take up in his cold, brutal hearts?

“Stay here. Do not talk to anybody. I have somewhere I need to be.” You blink at him, unable to compute his callousness. “I will return in good time.”

Is he serious? But before you can object, he swiftly steps backwards, is lost to the heaving crowds, and is gone. And though you are sitting in the heart of the most densely populated location in existence, you have never felt so terribly, unfathomably alone.

At first you are unsure what to do with yourself, and sit on your bench with a straight back, nervous and intimidated by all the people around you, hyper aware of their proximity. You watch them all, still unable to prevent yourself from looking for your Mother. All these people. People who so easily ignore you, walking by as though you are not even sitting there.

It isn’t long until you notice your stomach rumbling. To distract yourself from the shock of being dumped in some strange place by Maul to fend for yourself, you eye up the range of strange alien cuisines, wondering what each would taste like. Your gaze settles on a four armed man who is tossing up something into the air...odd looking pieces of…bread?

“I wouldn’t…if I were you,” comes a soft voice to your left.

The voice is shy, even sweet. But it still makes you jump. “E-Excuse me?”

“That particular dish does not suit human appetites.”

You turn towards the sound of the voice and see the speaker. She is a woman of a species you have never encountered before. She is rather tall, and has skin of the brightest and most compelling blue. Her skin is like the sky on the Planet in midsummer, and the markings on her face are as white as the clouds. Instead of hair atop her head there are two large horn-shaped growths that reach upwards in the direction of the planet’s surface, and beneath them, framing her face are three long appendages; one hanging behind her at her back, and two in front of each shoulder. You recognise that they are similar to the lekku of the Twi'leks, and you wonder where she comes from. She has thick white stripes across the blue of them, and once again you are reminded of cloud-touched skies. The woman slips onto the bench beside you, and you hear the delicate tinkle of her silver jewellery that adorns her head, face, wrists.

“You’re new here,” she says as a matter of fact.

“Oh,” you reply. “Is it so obvious?”

“Kind of,” she pauses, a little hesitant, and then leans closer. “I like your accent. I don’t think I have heard anything quite like that before. Can I ask where you are from?”

Accent? It never dawned on you that you’d have one. “Very far away,” you reply awkwardly. After a pause you realise that the stranger would probably appreciate a better answer. “Well, I …I think the planet is known as Sushariel.”

“The outer rim?” she asks curiously.

“Yes.”

“Ah,” she says, and purses her lips slightly. You recognise in her expression a stunted curiosity. You can see her refraining from asking more of you about where you came from, what world you left behind. It is then that you can see yourself in her, that glint of excitement when meeting somebody new, from so many stars away. What stories and experiences come with such a soul?

“Is it your first time on Coruscant?” she enquiries politely.

“Yes, it is.”

“I know how daunting and exciting that can be. I moved here from my home planet not long ago. Coruscant is a magnificent place, but a little overwhelming at first.”

You nod in agreement, reminding yourself to take a deep breath. You inhale the sweet and spicy scents of a multitude of foods being bought and sold around you. The odd aromas alongside the tall woman’s voice begin to ground you slightly. However, you are still wrecked with such an engulfing sense of isolation and anxiety that you are unable to respond, but: you have stopped instinctively looking for your Mother. A wave of relief settles across your shoulders.

“Oh!” she exclaims. “I’m so sorry, I haven’t introduced myself. My name is Risha.” Risha flashes you a warm smile, and you feel your eyes prickle with tears at her sincerity and kindness. You tell her your name in return, and find yourself thanking the stars that such a gracious woman found her way to your side at your time of such fervent loneliness and upheaval.

"What kind of food do you like?”

“Well...we eat a lot of fruit where I come from.”

Risha points at a small stall to the north side of the food court in response, where a small elderly Duros woman hunches over a stall of what appears to be fruits of varying shapes and sizes. “Try anything from Old Dira over there. She has the sweetest produce in this quadrant.” She flashes you a smirk. “Those shiny little green berries are my favourite.”

“Thank you, so much,” you manage to say. “I would have no idea where to begin.”

A beeping noise begins to flare from a pocket at her waist. “Stars,” Risha mutters, silencing a strange looking device. “I have to go, I’m going to be late for class.” She stands up, straightening a pretty sash at her hips, that hangs down her legs, over her long, flowing skirt. Her clothing is light and breezy, and reminds you of those that you once owned in girlhood. Her sparkling jewellery twinkles under the glare of the bright lights, and you are struck by how pretty she is. Your hands start to twitch, gravitating to your sketching tools in your bag. How badly you would like to draw this warm, thoughtful stranger. Then she asks, “where are you staying?”

You do not know what to say in response. Where are you staying? Where are you going to go? What if Maul doesn’t come back?

“I haven’t quite figured it out yet,” you try to sound casual instead of panicked. “There were complications. I have a…a… friend who is figuring it out now.”

“That’s okay! These things happen.” Risha smiles in understanding, though she seems hesitant to leave you by yourself. “I study at the University, and I am often on shift in the library. Visit me? I’d love to hear about your home planet.”

You nod enthusiastically. “Absolutely. It has been so nice to meet you, Risha. Thanks for your advice.”

She bows her head and walks away, and you watch her meander through the crowd, a tall blue beacon of grace and compassion. You suddenly feel less broken after your encounter with her. Your belief in the kindness of strangers flares back to life, and you smile widely looking toward the fruit stall Risha recommended. Maul’s betrayal and rather stark apathy still stings, of course, but the coursing joy of hope roars in your veins. You are in a glittering, bright new world.

You are about to head over to buy some berries, but soon remember that you have no money to make a purchase. Your face licks with heat, embarrassment at your own stupidity and ignorance. How are you going to do anything without money? How are you going to do anything without Maul? The thought makes your insides lurch slightly, trepidation and dread twisting your stomach. You look down at your feet, awash with a sense of foreboding, but then you notice a little glint in your peripheral vision. On the bench at your side are a few strange pieces of rectangular durasteel. Republic credits, “accidentally” left behind, courtesy of your new friend Risha.

Moons bless you, Risha.

You vow to visit the library, to pay her back her kindness as soon as you can.

You nibble on the strange little berries you bought from Old Dira. They are good, sweeter than any fruit on your home planet, and the tiny bursts of fructose slightly soothe your bleating worries. With no sign of Maul, you find yourself growing restless and decide to go for a walk, to stretch your legs and see what the city has to offer. If you're lucky, even clear your mind a little. You conversed with the elderly lady as you made your purchase, asking if there was anything to see nearby. She did not speak much, but pointed upwards with her long pale green fingers, indicating that you should head up as high as you can. So now you wander, berries in hand, bag on your shoulder. Exploring, using what is left of your credits to pay for fast transport upwards.

You eventually arrive on a large platform, high enough on the surface that you are looking out upon the city. Speeders and taxis zip across the sky in orderly yet swiftly moving queues of traffic. The lights from the buildings are endless, there are an infinite amount of them, each one filled with souls from all walks of life. It is still so incomprehensible how many people there are here.

And your Mother may be one of them.

You breathe away the thought, relinquishing her hold on you, if only for the moment, to look up at the sky. It is so hazy, strangely muted and blurred, so unlike the clarity of the skies of your home planet. You are unaware of the time, but assume it is the early evening by the dusky birch colour of the sky.

You walk the length of the platform, passing the multitudes of strangers. Watching them. Couples stroll arm in arm, workers jest with one another, lone joggers exercise. You lean against the railings, surveying the forever city, totally unsure of what to do next. When should you return to the spot Maul left you? Has he truly left you? Does he have any intention of returning? What does he expect of you? Should you even go back? You imagine disappearing into the city, hiding behind the many people here, responding to his apathy by abandoning him in return out of sheer spite. Never to see him again. You resent how much heartache the idea induces, how the possibility of living without him is entirely shattering. How likely that possibility is...

Your melancholy is broken by the cheers and laughter of a group of young adults walking in your direction. They look like party goers by their attire, and they holler together like a strange, joyful choir. Colourful limbs wrap around each other, their voices whooping and singing. Rich in hope, melodic. You ponder the occasion, envy the comfort of a large group of friends, of being so known. How does it feel to be a part of such mirthful exultation?

A pretty Mirialan woman in the group giggles and releases a burst of sparkling lights from a small device. They whizz and pop around them, bright colours flashing, zipping, illuminating the warm industrial air. A flash of vivid green flares across your vision and gives you pause, and when a red light bursts forth from the group, you see it cut through a young teenage boy draped in sacred robes, his boyish features twisted with the agony of failure. You try to shake yourself out of it, but there he is: young Farley, stabbed in front of your eyes once more. The lights are there, the rain is on your skin, you fly backwards and then: the water in your lungs, wringing you of air. The currents lap at your legs, pulling you down to the depths. Your skin prickles, your insides are sick with nausea, and it is as though the hazy sky has wrapped itself around you, inside and out. It suffocates you. You are drowning again, and this time Maul has left you to your fate at the bottom of the river, completely alone.

“Miss? Are you alright?” You hear a modulated voice that seemingly comes from a large man of another species that you do not recognise. The group with the lights have long since passed you, and yet you cannot get your breath back. Your vision blurs, and you sway on your feet. You sense the voices of other people approaching, the cool durasteel of the platform floor on your palms. The air ripped from your lungs as gravity pulls you to the cold ground.

But then a pair of smooth hands helping you to your feet. “Do not crowd her, give her space, please.”

“I’m okay,” you try to mutter, the colours of the lights having thrown you into what feels like total oblivion. Is this how you die? After all that has happened?

“Breathe,” someone tells you. You can’t make sense of the voice that comforts you, but you do see a Twi’lek man at your side. He walks you to a bench, settling beside you. “You look unwell. Can I contact anyone for you?”

“No, no…” you try to stand but the watery sky clenches at your lungs and you wobble. The crowd has dispersed.

“Take your time.”

You are moved by such kindness, such care from this man who owes you nothing. And yet, there is total apathy from the man you believed held feelings for you. How can strangers care more for your well being than the man you have bared your body and soul to? The man who's love you can still feel the ache of between your thighs?

As if manifesting him with your thoughts, you suddenly feel his eyes, heavy on your back. The man at your side seems totally unaware of Maul’s presence. It is then that you notice the innocent touch of the Twi’lek man’s hand on your arm, and you feel a strange sense of dread. What were you thinking, dragging generous strangers into your life, when it is so inexplicably connected to such violence? When Maul is the way that he is?

“She is with me,” Maul says calmly.

The Twi’lek man stands, relief drenching his words. “She seemed to suffer a -”

Maul pushes past him, ignoring him, bringing you to your feet. You lean against him, body leached of all energy, unable to resist putting your weight on him. To lean and depend on him. He pulls you into an embrace and you inhale his scent, the comforting aroma settling your panic. Oh how he soothes me, you are unable to prevent yourself from thinking, even though he is the cause of my discontent.

“T-thank you,” you try to say to the stranger, to assuage his concern. “I’m ok now, this man he…he is my…my friend.”

Your voice breaks on the word. Is he even your friend? Is he still your lover? Do friends or lovers abandon you when you need them most?

“Have a good evening, miss,” says the stranger, but you notice a layer of suspicion in his voice. “Feel better soon.” It is then that you feel an odd sense of calm, and the comfort of it is like a strange omen. A silence before a storm. You try to utter something, anything to the stranger, to reassure him of your safety. But all you can manage is the name of your maybe lover-friend.

“Maul…”

Do not follow us, kind stranger, you implore him in your mind as your lips cannot form the words. Please.

But as you walk into the darkness of an alleyway, you hear the unmistakable patter of footsteps behind you. Dread coils in your abdomen.

“Maul. Maul…”

You feel him freeze against you, his body twisting toward the sound of the worried stranger.

“Don’t,” your voice pleads in a pathetic whimper.

The weight of his strong warmth against you slackens. You crumple to the ground, cover your eyes and head with your arms. You cry, all you can do is cry. You cannot fathom that this is happening, but you know Maul well enough to be fully aware that it is. There is no mercy within him. No mercy. You consider your own life, how he holds it so precariously in his gloved hands. Is this all just a game to him? How is the soul and life of a person a mere irritant to him, easily snuffed out without a drop of regret? And how is that not what frightens you most about him?

You hear a scuffling sound and a gasp of surprise. Then a slight growl, a thud, a body falling to the ground. The sound of footsteps, kindness and concern, being silenced.

No, no, no.

You know what he is capable of. What has he done? Oh, that violent language of his. How its poison spills from his lips in decadent fragments, sharp words of heartbreak driven directly into the depths of your soul. How his fury is ripped from his fists in fatal blasts of merciless terror to all in his way; all who are not you.

“What did you do?” you ask in utter disbelief as Maul drags you through a sliding door into a small, sterile looking apartment by your upper arm. You almost trip over yourself with the momentum in which he pulls you inside. “He was helping me…” “Sit down,” he instructs clearly through gritted teeth as he lets you go. You struggle to find your balance for a moment without his support, your extremities are all numb, your chest tight and your middle heavy. Your mind vibrates from the aftershock of the lights, the panic and resurgence of the feeling of the Great River’s currents. The murder of another in the space of a few days. Your trembling hand covers your mouth feebly. You ignore his instruction to sit and begin to pace around the room in silence instead, unable to stay still or form any words for a moment. Maul stands as rigid as a stone statue, his glowing eyes cold and fixed on you as you wander aimlessly around the room. He glowers at you quietly until you realise that he is waiting for you to heed to his request, to sit down, before he will allow the conversation to continue. And so you bring yourself to do so, falling into that comfortable dynamic of obeying what he says, slipping into your usual compliance. It makes you angry though, how easy it is, how good it feels to give in and submit to his every whim even though it goes against what you really want. What about your own freedom? When you are perched at the edge of the couch you look up at him with total incomprehension. The silence is heavy as you compose yourself, and when you are able to eventually find your voice, you ask him, “Maul, what did you do? Why, I -” you suddenly lose the ability to speak again as the memory of such abrupt and fatal violence ripples through you. He ignores your question. You look around yourself and ask instead, “...where are we?” “I explicitly instructed you to stay where you were. What was so difficult for you to understand about that?” he scolds.

“I did stay there, but you were gone for hours!” You watch him sigh in frustration at your response, and your eyes once again begin to prickle with the threat of tears at his hostility. But you blink them back and refuse to let them fall.

He is the one being unfair. He is the one who left you alone and vulnerable to your own devices. He is the villain who just murdered a man for no reason.

In response to your thoughts he scowls. “You, my lady, know nothing of what you are dealing with.” “What has happened to you?” the desperation in your voice shocks you. “Why are you being so aggressive with me? What has changed? What did I…what did I do?” You are unable to help the break in your voice. He ignores you and continues to seethe in silence.

“You have to do as I say, particularly when I am not with you. You should have stayed where I left you.”

"Stars above, Maul, why?”

“Why?” He repeats cruelly. “Is your naivety so blatant that you are unable to realise you could have been taken advantage of?”

“You left me alone!”

“Anything could have happened.”

“But it didn’t. ”

He exhales with impatience, his eyes glaring into you, his chest heaving up and down.

“That man you killed was helping me.”

“Helping with what? What could you possibly need aid with?”

“I saw the lights of those people and I…I was…” The feeling of tightness in your chest returns, and you cannot finish your sentence.

A derisive scoff from Maul, who still stands in front of you. “Oh, how weak you are.”

You feel hot tears streaming down your cheeks, unable to prevent them from falling any longer. “Why did you kill him?” you ask meekly.

“I kill anyone in my way.” A pause. “Anyone.”

Anyone. The word sits between you, his gaze imploring you to understand what he is saying, as though a confession is hidden beneath the word. Did he…? You stop yourself from investigating that thought any further. You are unable to cope with such a revelation. Not now, no. His eyes soften, ever so slightly. “You have to obey me.”

“You freed me just to imprison me again," you say in realisation, your voice growing louder in your anger, your sadness and grief melting into rage. "You really expect me to just stay here, stay wherever it pleases you to place me, doing nothing? Living to wait for you? Waiting for you to show up like I am - "

“This is not about you,” he also raises his voice, his patience now exhausted.

“Then what is it about? You?”

He stares daggers into you as though it is obvious, and what fury you have inside you builds and combusts. The anger of being abandoned by your Mother, neglected by your Father, tossed aside without a second thought by this glorious, insufferable man. Anger at yourself for being so enamoured of him.

“You are so arrogant and self-absorbed. Is that part of your precious lifestyle? Whatever nonsensical and ruinous path you have dragged me into? The Sith?”

He lunges forward so fast that it makes you flinch as he covers your mouth with a gloved palm. “Never say that again. Never.” He uses a tone you haven't ever heard from him before, as that booming, threatening power is awakened from deep within him. It stirs. You stare at him with wide, shocked eyes and he kneels in front of you, holding your face intimately, delicately. Even in his rage and with his threats, he is gentle. It hurts your heart. Maul quickly relinquishes you, and you whimper.

You stand up, shocked. And then you are painfully conscious of his motivations. You gasp a composing breath before levelling your gaze at him in realisation.“You are trying to frighten me, aren’t you?”

He does not respond, only raking his severe eyes across the length of your body, up and down. How are these the same eyes as the ones that witness you take him so reverently?

“It won’t work, Maul. You don’t scare me anymore.” And you mean it. You feel no fear. “I am not frightened. You won’t hurt me.”

He tilts his head slightly, as if debating whether or not to take that as a challenge. You refuse to acknowledge the whirling of disquiet in your stomach, and you push through, brave and steadfast. Having faith in your knowing of him.

“I think that you have grown to resent me,” you admit quietly. “I am a burden to you, now that we are no longer removed from the rest of the galaxy.”

“You know nothing,” he spits furiously.

“You resent me," you take a deep breath, gathering your courage to say what you have foolishly, finally understood. "You call me weak, but Maul, you resent me because it is I that makes you weak.”

He replies with utter vehemence. "How dare you imply such a thing?"

“You do resent me," you confirm. “What are you so afraid of? Where have you been?”

He pauses, and his tone entirely transforms. "Anyone who knows my path, who has bore witness to my power, I have not suffered to live. With one exception. You.”

You freeze in utter disbelief. Is he implying -

“You…” he stalks forward, like the predator he was when you first met in the woods, “...are a liability.”

You move away from the couch and backwards, putting your hands behind you, as they are beginning to shake. He follows you. You laugh slightly, a deranged chuckle tinted with disbelief. “Are you threatening to kill me?"

His face is hard, his eyes two beacons of hatred, pain and regret. Oh, Moons. Have you really been so blind?

"After everything?” Where has the benevolent stranger gone? The man with the delicate touch, the hesitant polite kindness? How is this the same lover who kissed you so softly that you thought you had fallen into a dream?

“You lied to me," you say, understanding. “You’re not mine, Maul. I am yours, I am irrevocably yours. But you're not mine. You never were, and you never, ever will be. I am not a priority to you, I will always be an afterthought and there will always be th - ”

“I never said it would be any other way. I never gave you anything and I never said I would.” He is closer to you, your back against the wall now. Cornered. His face is close to yours, his strong arms either side of you.

“Yes, well…maybe it's for the best,” you bite back, hissing each word with contempt, glaring into his eyes. “Maybe I wouldn't want it anyway, whatever you could give me. Because you are cruel, and you are broken, and all you do is spread your misery and your defectiveness. You break people and in doing so you hurt me. Again and again and again.” He does not outwardly react, though you notice the muscle in his jaw flexing in anger.

“Do you know what you have done to me?” he asks in such earnest, in a cool, disconnected tone that turns your bones to dust.

“Speak it,” you demand bitterly. “Why don’t you finally tell me the truth? Confess to me how much I have wronged you, Maul. How cruel it was of me to awaken something so wonderful in you, how utterly terrible of me it was to force you to confront that you lack the strength to handle your own dissent. That you are too feeble and damaged to embrace your own happiness.”

His eyes darken. “I do resent you. I resent your ignorance, your fragility, your beauty, your softness. I resent it all.”

“Finally,” you smile and shake your head, more tears welling in your eyes. “I knew it.”

“I resent you because you stand between me and what I am. My purpose.”

“You are so ridiculous,” you mutter in response.

“Nothing stands in my way. No one.”

“You are ridiculous,” you repeat.

“And you are an aggravating and infuriating nobody. Your company and comfort I should never have entertained. I regret it. I regret it all. I should have killed you when I first saw you. I should have let you die, I should have let you drown.”

“Then why didn’t you?”

“I almost did."

Your eyes are as wide as they have ever been. He steps back, looking you up and down in disgust.

“What are you talking about?” you demand.

"When you went into the water.”

You stare at him, confusion melding your features into a pitiful expression as he chuckles cruelly.

“Oh, I hesitated, dear stupid girl. I refused to let the Jedi leave, and when I was fighting her, she begged me to save you. But all I wanted was her blood. I made a choice to kill her, and in doing so let you die. Because that is what matters. Their blood. That is all that matters, all that will ever matter: that the Jedi are destroyed.”

He doesn't tell you the rest of what happened that night, of his regret in that choice. He speaks not of the vow he made when you took that breath of life he begged for, the relief that surged through him when he felt your lonesome heart beat again. No. He only speaks of sorrow.

His harsh words dip into that deep emotional wound he inflicted upon you when you first spoke with him, the lesion of insecurity and worthlessness that lies rotting deep inside of you. The betrayal licks at the horrific emptiness beneath and gnaws at the injury.

And then he speaks again, the most devastating words, words that crush your spirit into nothing.

“You will never matter. You didn't matter then and you do not matter now."

You stand there in silence, disbelief thrumming in your veins. This whole time you believed that he saved you because he...you thought you did matter. To him. And you justified leaving and trusting him because he came to your aid, but this whole time, you really truly were an afterthought?

“Then why am I alive?” your lips move of their own volition.

He shrugs, his continued apathy more and more tormenting with every breath he takes. “By the will of the Force. I thought you dead when I pulled you from the river.”

The tension in the room peaks as you speak that obvious, fatal truth. “You still pulled me from the river, Maul.”

"Indeed." A moment of silence, and then he continues, quieter, "I should murder you where you stand. Rid myself of your foolishness once and for all."

“Then why don’t you?” you sneer in response, any sense of self preservation fizzling away with your composure, your heartbreak feels as though it is ripping you in half. "Why don't you just kill me? End your torment, Maul. End my life!"

He stews in his silence for a moment, and you flicker your eyes down to his hands, which linger on the hilt of the lightsaber at his belt. And yet…no fear strikes you. It's all you have felt for so long. The fear of the pirates that stole your Mother away in your nightmares, the fear of being caught disobeying your Father, the fear of being lost to the depths of the river. But now, there is nothing.

You do not believe he would really do it.

“I am not the foolish one here,” you say, your eyes locked on his hand, your sight fixed on how he unhooks the saber and takes it in his grip, how he slowly saunters closer to you whilst brandishing the long, cylindrical hilt of his weapon. And yet, as you speak, as you allow your truth to pour from your lips: you do not once stutter with your words.

There is no fear.

“It's you, you are foolish. I forgive you, again and again for your violence and I live with the horror of your abhorrent actions of what you have done to the Jedi, to that child, to my fa - ” You stop abruptly, unable to fully voice your suspicions, his confession: to confront him about that. Not now.

“I abandon my home, all that I know, I give you all that I am, all that I have, and then I must watch you waste it. You squander it all, sabotaging any sliver of goodness that comes your way.”

He’s as close to you now as he can be. The end of the weapon is now against your chest, his eyes boring into yours.

“You could still just have this,” you whisper, your agony rich in every word. “Have me, have us. You could give up all of the pain Maul. You are so strong,” you begin to cry again, wishing you could kiss him, comfort him, hide in his arms forever. “You have such potential: and not only in your violence.” His expression softens for the slightest moment as he registers what you say. “It doesn't have to be this way, you could just stop -”

“It is really that simple for you isn't it?” He asks, his words thick with an emotion you have never once heard before in his voice. “Just stop? Forsake my destiny, my greatness? All I have trained for, bled for, all that I am?" He shakes his head. "Only to exist in banal misery alongside someone as ignorant and worthless as you?”

You gasp in agony as his words strike you deep, and your chest hurts so much that for a moment, you are sure he has ignited the weapon and cleaved your heart in two. But when you look down, there is no crimson glow, no laser splitting you apart.

“You know nothing,” he continues. “You are hollow and stupid. I cannot stand to even look at you.” He does not, however, take his eyes away from your face.

“And yet, I love you,” you lament, your streaming gaze fixed on his beautiful, cruel face. Before you can stop yourself, the truth of your feelings for him roars from your broken heart like a waterfall, crashing into the depths of his apathy.

“You are probably already aware of it. Sometimes it's as though you know my mind better than I do, you can and do take whatever you want from my head, from me. But in my own words I want to tell you before I cannot. Before it all ends. That even if you do resent me and cannot stand to look at me any longer, even though you spew the most vile of words at me…even though you are breaking my heart, wish me dead and want nothing more than to strike me down yourself - I have never, ever loved anyone before. And I love you, Maul."

“Inconsequential," he whispers immediately, pity rippling through the word. His eyes scream in glowing amber despair, his beautiful irises speaking a thousand words he will never be able to speak. “I will always resent you.”

When you reply, your voice is quiet, broken. “But why?”

He moves quickly then, kissing you hard. You whimper into the rough movement of his familiar lips, indulging in the unique spice of his midnight scent. You grip on to him, kissing him back, tasting the sweetness of his tongue and the salty truth of your own tears. How can he utter such sharp words and still kiss you so passionately with the very same mouth? He caresses a gentle palm down the side of your face, and then he pulls back from your lips to speak quietly into your ear. He whispers your name with longing, his body shaking, and his next words are tinted with regret and dismay.

“Because no matter how much I need to or want to,” he admits with the faintest quiver wracking his gut-wrenching words. “I cannot kill you.” He growls it with an aching breath, then strides from the room without looking back.

You sink down the wall, collapsing to the floor with a sob, devastated and torn apart. All alone, in a strange room, on an even stranger world, without even the solace of the second moon for comfort. You spend the remainder of the night longing only for the winds and the rain, for the earthy smell of the Great Wood, for the calming glow of the Moons of home. What a worthless, silly little girl you are, leaving with him. The regret and self loathing feels so terrible that part of you despises Maul for his weakness; for how dare he not ignite his saber, how dare he not sever your shared torture by ending your life? The beat of your heart thumps with vivid memories of each betrayal of your short existence, and you ask aloud: how could she, how could he, how could you? But your heart keeps beating, no questions are answered, and your despair reaches long into the dawn.

–

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