#Ahsoka is a greater woman than I because his face is definitely not what I would have zoomed in on

[singswan-springswan]

She's trying to harness her inner Obi-wan. It's not working.

[duchess-of-mandalore]

The Fragility of Noble Flaws

Obitine, Anidala, Anakin & Satine, Anakin & Obi-Wan

Prompt: Anakin travels to Mandalore to tell Satine that Obi-Wan’s alive (mid-Rako Hardeen arc)

This started out as a writing exercise: I gave myself 500 words to write a ficlet exploring Anakin and Satine's dynamic together, since we see so little of them together on the show.

I failed the exercise and ended up with a 5,000 word exploration of the bond they share through their love of Obi-Wan Kenobi.

Oh, well! You can't succeed at everything!!

---

Duchess Satine wasn't expecting him. They were acquaintances, but not friends. Not really. He didn't have to reveal anything to her. He was taking a risk in coming to Mandalore, and she would find out the truth soon enough. Along with the rest of the galaxy. But in spite of his orders, and in spite of the fact that it felt so perversely good to defy the Council after the stunt that they'd pulled, Anakin Skywalker knew he was doing the right thing. There was perhaps no one else in the galaxy who more deserved to know that Obi-Wan Kenobi was still alive.

He probably could have found a secure holo-terminal and contacted her that way. It would have beat the long trip to the Outer Rim, but Anakin felt this news should be given in person.

When he'd arrived, it was already evening in Sundari. Perhaps it wasn't proper protocol – Anakin wasn't really in the mood to care – but he went straight to the throne room, where he was informed by the palace guard that the Duchess had already retired for the evening with orders not to be disturbed.

"Contact her anyway," Anakin said bluntly, already annoyed that the guard had insisted on taking his lightsaber. "She will want to know what I have to say."

"Sir, that is quite impossible. But I can show you to a guest room tonight and you will be granted an audience with her grace tomorrow."

Anxious irritation swirled in Anakin's gut, as if a Rishi eel were writhing inside and trying to get out. He wouldn't wait. He waved his hand in front of the guard's face. "You will tell Duchess Satine that I am here now."

"I will tell Duchess Satine that you are here now," the guard intoned. He turned obediently, and Anakin shoved down the flare of satisfaction that came from being able to so easily direct others. Obi-Wan would have chastised him for that if he were here. It wasn't becoming of a Jedi to relish wielding power over others, even in relatively benign matters.

But Obi-Wan wasn't here.

That was the point.

Anger blazed in Anakin, and for a few indulgent seconds, he made no move to tamp it down.

Eventually though, he breathed deeply, trying to think of other matters. He would be meeting with the Duchess, and she didn't deserve to be on the receiving end of his own emotions. He turned in a circle to stare around the throne room. It'd been nearly two years since he'd last seen the impressively vaulted space. That was when he'd arrived to escort the Duchess and her neutral allies to Coruscant, and at the time, the room had shimmered gloriously, gently diffused light streaming through the windows. Or were they technically walls when they made up almost the entire building? In any case, the artificial sunlight had bounced around the space, bathing everything in a hazy, peaceful ambiance while also creating a steely warmth that bespoke the purposeful actions that took place in this room. When Anakin had met Duchess Satine, he had felt it a perfect reflection of the woman herself.

But now, the lighting of the domed city had dimmed for the night. The transparisteel no longer reflected light back in on itself. Instead, Anakin could see directly out into the sea of buildings that surrounded the palace. Except for the pinpricks of light from certain windows, the darkness of the city stretched in every direction. Literally every direction, Anakin thought, starring down at the transparent floor beneath him. It was like being suspended in space . . . adrift in cold, unyielding nothingness. Anakin Skywalker was an accomplished pilot and was no stranger to such a feeling. He'd never panic in such a situation. But this was different. Standing in the darkened Mandalorian throne room, he felt utterly exposed.

Fragile.

Breakable.

Footsteps echoing around the vast cavern brought Anakin back, and he centered himself as the armored guard reentered the throne room.

"The Duchess will see you now." He sounded a little flustered, and Anakin wondered if he'd been given him a tongue-lashing for disturbing her. Anakin smirked and followed the guard; he didn't know Satine well, but it was obvious she was a force to be reckoned with.

It was obvious when they reached the Duchess's personal spaces, and not just because of the guard standing sentry outside the door. The corridors – made of actual walls, not transparisteel – were narrower, the ceilings far lower than the more public areas. Less exposed. Anakin was grateful for that.

The guard who directed Anakin motioned to the other to stand aside. He waved his hand in front of the panel and the door swished open. "The Duchess will be with you shortly," he said as Anakin stepped inside.

Even with Mandalore's minimalistic tendencies, Anakin thought Satine's apartment was uncharacteristically subdued for a planetary leader . . . or maybe it only seemed so in light of his wife's own love of the ornate. This wing of rooms still exhibited the same simplistic feel that characterized Sundari more generally, but it felt cozy nonetheless. Floor to ceiling windows overlooked the city on one side, but heavy brocade curtains stood ready to block out even that view when greater privacy was desired. The furniture – all in the blue and silver color scheme of Clan Kryze – was sleek and unembellished, save for the soft wool throw thrown over the sofa. A tea service cart sat along one dark blue wall, kettle heating on a burner. Several vases of Mandalorian peace lilies sat along the walls as well, which were empty save for one surprisingly informal portrait of the duchess and a red-haired boy. Anakin remembered him from the time he dropped Ahsoka off – the boy from a pacifist system who'd been enamored with Ahsoka's Jedi lightsaber. So that must have been Korkie, Satine's nephew. But the eyes . . .

"Master Skywalker." Duchess Satine's crisp voice broke Anakin's gaze away from the portrait. Satine had entered from what looked like a bedchamber, clad in a white nightdress covered by a blue dressing gown. Her blonde hair had been haphazardly pinned back, but her demeanor was every bit as regal as every other time Anakin had seen her. "To what do I owe this pleasure?"

Her voice was diplomatic, but with an unmistakable edge to it. He bowed low. "Hardly a pleasure, your grace. I know you asked not to be disturbed."

See, he could be diplomatic when the situation called for it. Or maybe it was that this woman had a strange effect on him. In spite of the informal setting, she compelled a formality Anakin didn't grant to just anyone. And yet, there was a warmth about Duchess Kryze as well, one that said that every conversation she had was personal, not simply a mere formality.  He was awed by her ethereal regality in a way that reminded him of that fateful day when his very own angel had walked into his life.

She nodded once, and Anakin knew that he'd been absolved of his trespassing. Her next comment held a lighter tone. "I assumed you wouldn't have barged into my palace if it weren't something important." She gestured toward a narrow armchair before taking a seat on the sofa. "Though I am curious as to why the Council didn't simply call, as they usually do."

Anakin sat on the edge of the chair and grimaced. "Well, my lady . . . your grace," he stammered. "They wouldn't have, because . . . they don't know that I'm here."

"This isn't a Council matter?"

"Oh, no. This is definitely a Council matter," he said, before continuing pointedly, "but the reason I'm here . . . that's a personal one."

"Oh?"

"Yes, in fact–" Anakin rubbed his neck, suddenly self-conscience about the whole situation– "what I'm about to tell you is something that you can't tell anyone else. Especially not the Council."

The duchess's brow furrowed in apprehensive confusion as she stared at him directly. "Master Jedi – please – tell me what you came to say."

Anakin breathed. "Obi-Wan's alive."

Continue reading on Ao3

[maulsscream]

(gif by obimauls)

MUTUAL TEMPTATION Maul x Ahsoka

This was just going to be a M fic but y’all are making me write another E because the muzzle has usyou feeling things. I 100% agree. Watch me and my thirst traps delivering another banger. Bless @mandalora for the newest addition to the thirst pile.

Please assume Maul had his legs chopped off above the knees for obvious reasons. It’s not rated E for nothing loves.

Disclaimer: as I’ve stated before please assume that Ahsoka is a fully grown adult woman in all my fics. Thanks.

SUMMARY Rated E - 1,815 words

Maul is a lot more agreeable when he’s tied up and gagged. Ahsoka can see the gears turning in his head as he tries to figure what her game plan is. She decides to make him wonder some more.

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Her lightsaber was pointed down at his jugular as Maul sat with his arms locked behind him back, tied up to his elbows by some sort of device from another time. His mouth was clamped shut by the muzzle he had been fitted with on Mandalore. Truly the Mandalorians had a taste for the eccentrics and the barbaric. It was all a little overboard, even for him. The binding of his arms and ankles he could understand, but the muzzle? Were they afraid he would somehow talk his way out of the justice Ahsoka wanted to inflict on him?

The low buzzing of the lightsaber caught his attention if only for a second. His eyes followed the blinding blue length of it back up to her face. Her intimidation techniques were weak at best. If her goal was to keep him from trying anything rash, she could have simply kept to the bounds he was in. But the look behind her eyes spoke of something else. Maul arched an eyebrow in a questioning manner. What exactly was her game plan here?

“You might think you know everything about me, but you’re wrong.”

Maul doubted that. He had searched the clone’s head thoroughly to gain every drop of intel he could about the young woman. It had been fascinating. She was as arrogant as she was headstrong. Of course there had been no place for her with the Jedi. She had a thirst for adventure. Had she finished her training under Skywalker, the thrill of protecting her precious republic would have never satisfied her just like it hadn't satisfied him. She had a greater purpose.

“Now don’t try anything.”

She said as she leaned her face in close threateningly, the tip of her lightsaber forcing him to tilt his chin up towards her. She turned her wrist just so and he could see in her eyes she was debating whether or not he deserved justice after all. There was darkness there, a potential he had seen during their duel. The conclusions he had drawn from the trooper’s memories of her were correct. Ahsoka Tano was neither good nor evil. She served no one. She simply was.

She saw his eyes glimmer with anticipation and delight as if he were daring her to just get it over with. Kill him or free him. Those were his options, not the ones she had picked for him. The blade of her lightsaber disappeared at the press of a button and she placed it back at her hip. Maul followed the motion carefully. He couldn't wait to see where this was all going.

What fun!

She was still too close for either of their comfort, although the zabrak couldn’t complain much. He hadn’t been subject to any torture yet but he guessed that might have been the reason she was in his holding cell. He had heard her sending his guards away before entering the room. It wouldn’t be her style but with no one to answer for but herself, it might have been her last desperate attempt at getting answers. Still, there was one last option she hadn't tried if torture was her last resort...

To his surprise, Ahsoka lowered herself in a squatting position in front of him and Maul had to strain to maintain eye contact. With the very restricted range of motion he possessed, it was almost impossible to see what she was doing down at that level. His legs spread further apart and he squirmed to sit up straight. There was an attempt at leaning his upper body forwards but the jolt of her hand to her weapon stopped him dead in his tracks.

She held his full attention.

“I hear these came as a reward.”

The former Jedi said as she knocked on the mechanical part of his leg with her knuckle. Maul rolled his eyes. The antagonising game would only last so long. He could see in her eyes she wanted more than to just look at his prosthetics.

Her hands encircled them and ran up their length ever so slowly, feeling every tiny scratches and small indents in the metal underneath her palms. For the first time that he could recall, Maul wished he had sensations in his lower legs. Just so that he could feel what she was depriving him of. Clearly this was her game. She would only give him so much, just a taste that was enough to feed the fire and make him long for more.

Her hands stopped at his knees, tapping her fingernails against the junction of flesh and metal. Maul caught himself wanting to feel those nails against his skin, across his body. Seduction tricks had never worked on him, he was not that kind of being. He was too smart to be so easily distracted by hollow promises and lustful glances. No. This wasn't it.

This wasn't a trick. Maul could feel it through the force. This was genuine. The attention he was paying her doubled, his senses sharpening and his psyche honing in on her presence.

Ahsoka used his knees as leverage to rise back up on her feet, causing Maul to tense in anticipation. She pressed on the his legs harder, reminding him of just how restrained and uncomfortable he was in his shackles. Was she expecting him to plea for his freedom back?

He chuckled, a soundless rumble that shook his whole body. She could read how amused he was by the way he was devouring her with his eyes. Her web was tightening around him. Whether he knew where she was headed or not with that line of interrogation, she didn't care. She only cared about him lowering his defences enough for her to penetrate his mind.

“I wonder... what’s going on up there?”

Ahsoka brought her fingertips to his temples and focused. She could feel him resisting, his mind straining not to let her in. He was going to fight her all the way, building walls as she dug deeper. Her jaw was clenched and her eyebrows furrowed. Fine, if he wanted to play the hard way so could she.

She climbed on top of him, making sure to drag the motion of her pelvis closing the gap between their bodies as much as possible. His breathing was quickening from both the mental blocks he was putting up and the sudden act of intimacy, his chest heaving. She had no trouble fitting her small frame onto his lap. He was oddly comfortable and warm, a reaction she guessed she had caused.

Maul continued to observe her with carnal fascination, the sound of his hearts loud in his ears. She was persistent. He knew what she would be searching for inside his thoughts, but he could give her something else. Something she might have wanted even more. Surely the thrill of the forbidden fruit would outweigh her need of answers.

Ahsoka had to focus on the task at hand. They could have fun later. As much as she wanted to see more of the tattoos littering his chest, she wanted answers first. She squeezed her legs harder around his waist and gave one last push into his mind. Her hands were fully wrap around his head now, her fingers toying with the release of the muzzle. Perhaps the promise of a reward would make him take the bait.

That he did.

Maul caved in all at once, his eyes closing as her forehead touched his. His thoughts were the definition of organised chaos. There was a sea of pain and suffering that Ahsoka quickly waived in favour of a less threatening and much more enticing dark corner of his mind. What was he hiding in there?

She had been baited, too. Her need for answers suddenly flew out the window. Maul focused his mind on the unspoken truth between them. She had just openly began her little dance of seduction leaving him barely any room to reciprocate given his physical situation. 

But that’s what you like, isn’t it?

His thoughts were louder than a wampa as they echoed inside her own mind. She didn’t have to focus so much on making sense out of all of the glimpses of could-have-been he was showing her. The picture was clear enough.

In their conjoined minds, Ahsoka was clutching the top of his tunic, their bodies desperately pressing together. He was still tied up at the exception of his muzzle that had been discarded on the floor. Maul was kissing and biting along her exposed shoulder and throat, leaving marks on her feverish skin. He wanted to claim her just as much as he wanted to be made hers. In the vision, although she wasn’t sure now what was fiction and what was reality, one of her hands ran down his front and shakily entered his clothes, past the large belt and into his pants to grasp his length.

Her head was spinning. It was hard to focus when she could see from both of their perspectives. When she could feel both of their sensations and needs. It felt like an eternity before she reopened her eyes to find herself in the same exact position as the vision, only the muzzle was still on this time.

Ahsoka could feel him throbbing in her hand, a satisfied look in his eyes. She didn’t hesitate as she started moving her hand around him. Maul’s eyes were glued to hers, watching ever little change in her expression. The slight curl of her lips speaking of victory. His pupils were blown wide open with want. Ahsoka could see his breathing fogging up the metal of the gag. It would have been cruel to leave now. After all, she would be left begging for more too. But she could take care of herself.

She nuzzled her face into his neck, pressing a couple of kisses there but stopping when she heard his head thud against the panel behind him. Maul’s eyes rolled back into his skull and his hips rocked into her hand with a loud groan. He was at her complete mercy and there was something to be said about just how much he was eagerly giving in.

Her movements slowed before completely stopping. Maul understood the nature of the game. Ahsoka removed her hand from his pants, determined to make this last. She tucked his clothes back onto his large frame properly, giving a tug at his restraints to make sure they were still fully in place before gracefully unlocking her legs from around his waist and standing up. It left Maul admirative. She could show more self control than he had anticipated. Next time, he’d have to do better.

She’d visit him again now that she knew he was pliable.

Maul gave her a look that let her know he was looking forward to it.