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danger-xylophones · 2 years

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The Mand’alor’s Gambit Ch. 4 New Playbook

Masterlist

Summary: The deal is struck, it’s time for Maul and the Governor to put their plan into action. However, unforeseen problems are already arising.

Warnings: swearing, mentions of food/eating, ptsd (for reader, Maul, and Savage), gore mention, Governor’s got some problematic opinions, Maul’s a slut, she/her

Maul and the Governor finally sit down and talk.

<;- Part 3

Remember to reblog :)

Look at this smug asshole and his stupid little grin. I love him.

Social Climb - IDKHBTFM

Defend your factions, cut the lines

Leagues of social climbers are abound

Oh, but be advised, no restitution comes tonight

‘Less we lay unconscious in the ground

..........................................

The day began with a knock before morning light had broken the night’s spell.

Your eyes shot open at the sudden intrusive sound, harsh against the silence of your room but not demanding enough to be rude. Despite the urgency in your initial awakening, your eyes felt heavy, sticky with residual sleep that blurred your vision.

“Eh...who is it?” You croaked out, simultaneously snuggling into your comforter. It was a hard fight to keep your eyes open and one that you were losing.

“It’s Savage.” The rumbling voice shook the sleep from your system as surprise overtook you. You were out of bed in a second. You snatched your robe up and tightened it around you to maintain propriety before opening the door. Savage’s figure loomed before you and took up all of the door. His face was shadowed by the dark of the palace so that the only features able to be made out were his eyes and the silhouette of his horns. Had you thought he wished you harm, you were certain you would have screamed. “Good morning, governor.” He greeted in a surprisingly pleasant tone given the hour.

“It’s a morning, alright.” You hummed, at a loss for what to say. Your mind was lagging from the early and sudden start. “Did...did you need something?” Your voice was scratchy and frog-like which made you grimace at the harsh way it rasped. Luckily, Savage made no comment on it.

“I was wondering if you wanted to watch the sunrise.” The request was so innocent, so innocuous that it seemed more fitting coming from a young child than a towering warrior like Savage.

You must have stalled too long as Savage was quick to add on to his request. “And, I was wondering if you would show me how you made that stew again. Your cooking is much better than the staff’s.” He chuckled at the end as if disbelieving of the fact he was admitting he had a preference for cooking. From what he had told you of his life prior to his brother’s takeover, you were sadly certain Savage had never had that luxury before. It was a sobering thought.

“Of course, I will.” You answered with a tired smile to hide where your mind had wandered, “just give me a minute to get dressed.” Despite the darkness, you could see Savage’s teeth make a brief appearance to indicate he was smiling at you. You smiled right back, “and maybe put on some caf?”

At that, he chuckled, “I’ll get right on that.” and turned away to lumber towards the dining area, his form vanishing into the still dark palace.

Once more alone, you sighed. It looked like today would be a very early start. You weren’t exactly thrilled at the prospect given what you had to accomplish today...and whose company you had to spend it in. You stopped swiping through tunics and dresses long enough to grimace at the reminder of all that yesterday had entailed - including the truce you now had with the mand’alor. You couldn’t deny it was a good deal. It got Maul off your back, brought attention to Dion and to Concordia, reaffirmed your own political power, and gave you direct access to funding for the restoration. The only drawbacks were the conditions and possible blackmail. If you were honest, the negative aspects couldn’t compare to the net positive. You still didn’t like that this deal entailed you acting like you were in love with Maul, but the means justified the ends in this case. At least he knew why you would be acting sweet on him so there was no chance of him getting the wrong idea and creating a messy situation for both of you.

Surprisingly, you weren’t as upset by this truce as Chara was. You’d called her after dinner to explain what had happened with the documents and the plan going forward and she’d gone ballistic. She ranted on and on about how she thought this was a stupid plan and that it would be better if you just challenged Maul and took the dark saber for yourself. You’d tried to explain that this was part of your plan from the beginning. Sure the circumstances were different but you would end up with the same result so why was she making such a big deal of the fact you had to pretend you were with Maul while he knew you were pretending? Your cousin hadn’t wanted to listen to you at all. You never mentioned that you were planning to catch up with Dereth. For some reason, you had a suspicion that the conversation wouldn’t go much better.

Chara confused you. But you were afraid the mysteries of your closest cousin would have to wait until you returned to Concordia.

Resolving to put off dealing with the bizarre turn your life had taken later, you resumed dressing.

By the time you were dressed and on your way to the private kitchen near the bedrooms, the palace had lightened enough for you to make out where the walls ended and where furniture jutted out to create potential hazards. It still didn’t stop you from catching your shin on the leg of a chair or bumping your shoulder against a corner though.

The smell of freshly brewed caf wafted towards you, spurring you on despite the pain and annoyance. The allure of addictive caffeine was strong enough to momentarily distract you from your musings and remind you that at the very least you would start the day in pleasant company.

Rounding the final corner, you entered the common area which was dimly lit by the light of one lamp, creating a cozy atmosphere that was amplified by the smell of the caf Savage had brewed and the quiet shuffling of said zabrak as he pawed through the cabinets gathering what ingredients he remembered.

You noted two mugs had already been set out, but not yet filled. Gliding forward, you took it upon yourself to pour a generous amount of caf into each, leaving enough room to add to the drinks if you or Savage so desired. “Creamer, Savage?” You asked as you set the caf pot back down. The yellow zabrak visibly startled and scrambled to face you. In doing so, he knocked his elbow against the open cupboard door which sent it flying back to smack the other cabinets with a loud bang.

Your hand shot to your mouth in a poor attempt to trap the snorted laugh that tried to escape you at Savage’s reaction. “Are you alright?”

Savage stared at you for a beat, eyes wide and hands hovering as if prepared for a fight. It took a few blinks and deep breaths for his posture to relax. “You startled me.”

“So I saw. I thought it was impossible to sneak up on you force wielding maniacs.” You snickered, oddly satisfied with yourself. Until you saw that Savage did not look amused. “Hey,” you lowered your voice, “I’m sorry for startling you, I didn’t mean to. I thought you heard me come in.” You raised your hand in a pacifying gesture, instinctively wanting to reach out and comfort him to further convey your sincerity. But hesitating, unsure if he wanted to be touched.

With a low sigh more akin to the sound of a machine powering down than that of a living being, Savage’s posture relaxed. “It’s alright.” He grumbled in a voice not quite matching his normal energy. “Just don’t do it again.”

Savage didn’t dwell on it, removing your opportunity to do so in turn, and instead moved out of your way to allow you free reign of the kitchen. He seated himself at the bar, sideways, so that he could switch his attention between the window and your conversation with relative ease. Wordlessly, you slid his cup over to him and grabbed the creamer for yourself and waited for any indication he wanted some too.

There was a pause in all motion as the two of you took a few seconds to just enjoy the caffeine jumpstarting your internal systems in which you were struck with the realization that Maul had not been invited to your little gathering. “Does Maul drink caf?” You eventually hummed. Savage paused mid sip and gently set his mug down - the cup completely vanished from view when he wrapped both of his hands around it to warm them.

You watched on in amusement as a grimace only an older brother was capable of twisted onto Savage’s yellow face. “Yes, unhealthy amounts of it.”

"Another addict, ey?” Unceremoniously, you let out a short amused snort at the image of Maul sitting on the throne with one of those jedi novelty mugs you’d seen on the holonet in hand. “Almec’s in good company I guess.” Absently, you collected a stray drop running down the side of your mug on your finger and brought it your lips. “Blood’s probably made of the osik by now. Not that I’m much better I suppose.” You huffed around your thumb. “Seems any person with a modicum of control over Mand’alor’s gotta get a caffeine fix somehow - Satine had a whole stash of black tea hidden away somewhere. And Vizsla, maker, he had a whole vault of this really expensive foreign stuff hidden on Concordia - I’m still working my way through it. Real strong stuff, not a clue where he got it from.”

Savage made a noise in the back of his throat that was somewhere between a growl and grunt. “How’d you know Vizsla? I overheard some of the servants say you used to be fairly close to him.”

It was your turn to pause mid-sip. You could feel a furrow on your brow as your face pulled down into a stern expression. “If you’re accusing me of treason, that’s hardly a subtle way to do it, Lord Savage.”

His eyes widened and face slackened. “That’s not what I was doing at all, Governor. Believe me, I’ve learned it’s not wise to accuse a Mando of treason out of the blue.” One of his hands raised in a pacifying gesture.

You snorted derisively and took a large swig of your caf. Maul must have told him about what happened. With a swallow, you began, “I’ve lived on Concordia all my life, Clan Dion made it our homebase during the civil war. My grandpa was head of our clan before my mom and was friends with quite a few people in clan Vizsla. One of ‘em was my dad’s dad.” With a shrug you took another sip and let Savage infer the rest.

“You were related to him?” He rumbled, sounding genuinely mystified.

“Distantly, I think we were third cousins. After my mom remarried though, Vizsla didn’t want to lose the relation with Dion so he offered to take me under his wing. Mom accepted and I spent most of my life learning from him.” You shrugged again, not really liking thinking about it - not for any particular reason though. Just for what it represented.

“I’m sorry.” Savage’s voice was soft, fragile. It didn’t fit with the image of this intimidating yet kind warrior you’d come think of him as.

You blinked, mind blanking on a proper response - what was he sorry for? That Vizsla was dead? That Maul had killed him? “It didn’t really matter... we weren’t close or anything, despite what people think. I was his apprentice, he was my mentor, that was all.”

“But...he was family?”

Standing, you made your way forward to lean against the bar so that you were much closer to Savage. “We were related, but he was not my family. Just as I am related to Almec, but he is not my family.” Your voice was low, stern, similar to the tone of voice you’d used on young foundlings and children learning what it meant to be a mandalorian. “My second father, yes, my caretaker after my mother’s passing, yes, my mentor on the ways of Mandalorian politics, also yes. But that is all he is. My family is Clan Dion.”

Your eyes locked with his and you caught the minute flickers as he matched your gaze second for second. “I see.” He finally hummed. You backed up with a nod and returned to your previous perch against the opposing counter. You retrieved your caf and took a hearty sip, satisfied that Savage had truly understood the distinction. “So...if Maul were to marry you, would we become family?”

You coughed and barely managed to stop yourself from spraying caf down your front by raising your mug back up to your mouth in the nick of time. You caught the barest hint of a smile on Savage’s face before he hastily muscled it away in favor of mock concern. “Is-” you coughed again, trying to clear your throat of the remaining liquid, “-is that what you want?”

He shrugged one massive shoulder. “I wouldn’t mind calling you my sister-in-law.” And sipped noncommittally, eyes trained on you. “But I am more interested in maintaining our alliances.”

Your posture relaxed. “Of course, as am I, Lord Savage.” A courteous bow of your head was tacked onto the end of your sentence. “I don’t doubt the strength of my warriors, only their resolve to face two sith lords, Death Watch, and the entire criminal underworld.”

The yellow zabrak smiled ruefully. “I thought Mandalorians were always eager for a fight.”

“We are,” you grinned back, “but the politician in me knows to pick my clan’s battles.” lifting your mug towards him, you toasted the zabrak.

With a small huff of a laugh, Savage let silence descend on the two of you and for the status quo to dissipate back into the morning mist.

“We would be,” you finally returned to his earlier question, piquing his interest once more, “because I enjoy your company enough to acknowledge you as kin.”

His head tilted. “Does your preference hold that much authority?”

“Certainly.” You met his burning gaze head on. “I have advisors - elders and family members of high esteem - that I am supposed I consult with but my opinion as the head is ultimate.”

“Is that why you were able to expel Almec?”

“Precisely. Although,” you chuckled bitterly at the reminder of the man whose complicated political ties had nearly lead to your own downfall, “I was the only one trying to keep him in the clan. So when I gave the word,” and had dragged Dion’s name through the osik he stirred up, “no one objected.”

Except for Maul.

You frowned at the reminder of your fight with the Mand’alor. His ability to assert his authority was admirable. Satine was never able to rally warriors to her cause. The people that followed her were weak and too easily frightened. They could be lured in by promises of cushy lifestyles. Only after the warriors, the fighters, those with greater power than her were out of sight could her peaceful Mandalore thrive.

She was too weak - too soft. She was unable to crush her opponents. And that was why she had fallen.

It gave clan Vizsla time to gather strength. It gave Dion time to gather strength.

Pre Vizsla had just gotten lucky that the second sith they picked up was actually capable.

He was too power-hungry. He’d been blinded by the allure of the dark saber, unable to notice the army under his nose. And that was why he had fallen.

“-like to visit Concordia. Perhaps a visit can be arranged?” Savage’s low rumbling voice brought you back to the present moment. He was turned towards the window, his back facing you, but he spoke over his shoulder.

“Of course,” you answered automatically, only registering what he had asked as you were answering, “Concordia is the nicest this time of year. I have a personal garden that is in full bloom.” Savage. Savage was a danger to you. He was loyal to Maul, and clearly would remain so by virtue of blood. No amount of persuasion could sway him to rally solely to you instead. “But the real beauty is in the forest’s surrounding the mansion. “ Almec was of no use to you now, his past was too checkered for you to salvage. “It’s been consistently taken care of so it’s very lush.” And he was already Maul’s puppet leader to keep the Republic - more specifically, the Jedi - from interfering in his schemes. “But we also have a few specifically designated recreational areas spread out over the moon meant for hunting, fishing, camping, etc., if those are more your speed.”

A small guffaw slipped from the large man. “You sound like some sort of tour guide.”

With a tight lipped smile you settled your gaze on the back of his head. “Tourism is one of our bigger industries.” You turned your attention from the man to the window. “Only natural I’d pick something up.” Change of plans.

Savage chuckled some quiet agreement you didn’t quite catch but didn’t care enough about to ask him to repeat himself. Instead you focused on the window, on the rising sun that bathed Sundari in soft pink light followed shortly by burning gold that transformed the pink into burning red. It was beautiful.

“Should we wake Maul?” You hummed absently, breathing in the steam from the caf. “Or at least drag him out of his room?” You laughed.

“I can assure you that dragging me will not be necessary.” The low voice of Maul scared you so thoroughly you flinched, spilling some of the still hot liquid over the side of the mug onto your exposed skin. Hissing, you yanked your hand away and hastily wiped it on the pants of your lounge clothes. The caf wasn’t hot enough to burn but it certainly stung.

Maul watched you with contempt in his eyes, head raised just slightly, with his hands clasped behind his back. Your eye caught on his outfit. He wasn’t wearing his normal tunic but rather a short, black robe left mostly open despite being tied about his waist. The robe was open further than his shirt had ever been, revealing to you that his tattoos went lower than you’d expected, revealing lines following the curves of his abs, connected back to the upside down heart on his chest. Your quiet observation of his tattoos also brought your attention to the other thing different about his attire. Maul wasn’t wearing any pants.

On it’s own, that was an incredibly disturbing observation. But, given the fact you now knew his cybernetics to connect somewhere on his torso, the discomfort was replaced by curiosity. “Impressive tech.” You hummed, almost without a thought. “Before or after your takeover?” His glare deepened. Maul didn’t answer you, instead, he marched into the kitchen making a bee line for the caf. Huffing into your caf, you glanced at Savage who didn’t meet your eye. “Touchy subject.” As Maul busied himself with preparing his early morning drink you examined his legs. They really were impressive but not the best cybernetics you’d ever seen. They could use some maintenance as they were showing some pretty serious usage. Not all that surprising considering Maul probably lived a life full of fighting and that he’d started his takeover in a violent manner. A good scrub down, maybe some oil, and replacement of some of the knee components would probably do them good.

Your ogling was cut off when Maul spun on his heel and stalked over to his favorite corner of the kitchen to lean against the counter. Both of his hands held to his mug but his eyes were trained not on the dark liquid but on you. You met his burning gaze, the fiery eyes of the sith, without flinching. And it seemed, just for a moment that the flame calmed to an ember.

Turning once more to the sunrise you thought on Maul’s attire again. He was missing something - the large belt about his waist affixed with blinking lights and circuitry. Previously, you’d thought the belt was just oddly placed with wires trailing down his hips and thighs to connect to his calfs. Now you thought that that belt marked the end of his cybernetics. A sickening pang stabbed through your chest. Severed at the waist. It was enough to make you queasy.

You’d been stabbed low before. In the abdomen where your armor didn’t cover. The pain, while not the worst you’d ever endured had certainly been potent and had brought with it it’s own treacherous fear - the image of the wound splitting open and guts spilling from it. Intestines, diaphragm, liver, an ocean of blood...it was enough to unsettle your very much intact stomach. But that was a vibroblade, what weapon could sever someone so completely?

Your eyes darted to Maul’s hip where his weapon normally resided.

“What is the plan for today?” Savage, thank Hod Ha’ran, ended the tense silence that had settled over the room.

“Lord Maul and I are heading to the prison so I can interrogate Satine.” You answered swiftly.

“Precisely,” Maul muttered, “Savage, I am leaving you in charge in my absence.”

Maul caught the sideeye you sent him. He had Almec, why did he need to leave Savage in charge? But you didn’t voice this.

“Speaking of,” you flicked you attention away from the mand’alor and to the chrono above the bottom oven, “I better get started on that stew if we want to get there before noon.”

At the mention of the reason Savage woke you so early, the large man rose to his feet (at the protest of the couch he’d been sitting on) and made his way towards you. Confident the yellow zabrak was following, you swept 'round the counter, brushed past Maul and set about getting the necessary utensils out. All the while, acutely aware of Maul's concentrated gaze.

It never left you, only joined his brother's, as you busied yourself with recreating the meal you'd cooked the other day - this time explaining the steps to Savage who listened intently as well as adding any cultural context as needed.

Silence descended on the three of you when the stew was finished and you busied yourselves with eating. But unlike the previous times where you and Maul were stuck in the same room, the silence that fell was more relaxed. Not friendly by any stretch of the word, nor comfortable either. But it felt less like dining with an enemy and more so with a coworker you'd just met.

You'd finished before the brothers - Maul, notably had readily eaten this time around and gone back for seconds - and excused yourself to your room with a simple "my lords".

Safe in the confines of your walls, you swiftly undressed and began rifling through your closet for the crate containing your armor. First you pulled on the flight suit. It was a dark black, deep enough to confuse the shape of your figure instead of accentuating it. Next, you set about fastening your thigh and shin guards. The thought crossed your mind to call Chara as you dressed and at least warn her that you were going to be speaking to Dereth but the sound of her angry ranting at the mention of the change in plans dissuaded you. What your advisor didn't know wouldn't hurt her. Especially since this was now more of a personal matter than a political play. She didn't need to know. Next came the cuirass, vambraces, and pauldrons.

You paused when you were done, examining your reflection in the full length mirror. You missed wearing your armor, the beskar that had been passed down through the generations. It not only protected you in the physical sense but provided a link back centuries to the first warriors. Although the beskar yours was made of was considerably young, just shy of 350 years old, the symbolism the metal was saturated in weighed heavy with history.

Brushing your fingers over the chipping green paint on your cuirass, you felt a pang in your heart. It was a sin to take off the armor, your second skin, but it was necessary to adapt. And after all, that was the way of the Dion's - adaptation in the face of adversity. Growth in defiance of stagnation. Strength in times of turmoil. This is the way.

A knock at the door brought your eyes from your reflection and back to the room. You didn't bother calling out, instead, you adjusted the helmet perched on your hip and strided to the door. It opened with a soft whoosh revealing Maul standing behind it. He had since dressed donning his open tunic, brown pants, and blinking belt. The opening door caught his attention, pulling his gaze away from something down the hall and to you. "Governor, I trust you are ready to leave? Our speeder is waiting outside." Maul's voice, for once, was soft, almost conversational.

You eyed him for a moment - eyes settling on the soft blinking lights of his belt. Again, your gut twisted uncomfortably in...pity? Sympathy? Phantom pain? You weren't sure how to describe it.

"Yes," your eyes snapped up to his to find them as burning as ever, "let's go." Brushing both him and the swirling feeling in your stomach off, you set a brisk pace in the direction of the parterre. The steel of your boots pounded on the floor, far louder than the flats you frequently wore around the palace. And matching to the steady, metallic thump of Maul's own steps. For every step you took, he would take one not even a second later which created an oddly nice rhythm not dissimilar to the ones many war songs were set to. A strange observation but one you found amusing.

Sadly, your short lived mirth died when the speeder came into view and the facts of your task loomed ahead like a great beast.

The driver was human and kept his head down at your approach, offering only a quiet, "Mand'alor, Governor," in way of greeting. Normally you woudn't have minded and might have even been relieved by your chaperone's aloofness. But not today as you settled into the closed cab of the speeder and found a small plane of transparisteel separating you and Maul from the driver.

Irked but not enough to raise a stink over it. You crossed your arms squarely over your chest, sat your helmet on the middle seat between you and Maul, let your legs naturally fall apart. Noting, that Maul's posture mirrored yours. Except he was stubbornly looking out the window and not at you, watching as your speeder rose into the sky and angled into the city. Until his head turned towards you.

You caught the yellow of his eye and immediately turned to the window yourself. Feeling his gaze still fixed on you sent a shiver down your spine. The urge to snap at him grew stronger the longer his gaze remained fixed on you until, just before you patience grew too thin, Maul looked away.

Sighing to yourself, you let your body slump down a little against the door to watch Sundari whiz by far below. Your mind swam with questions to ask both Dereth and Satine. How were you going to get any important info out of your fellow Mandalorian while Maul would be hovering near by? You weren't sure. Perhaps there was a way for you to deem it an internal communique between you and the murderer. But that would be hard considering Maul knew that you'd exiled him after the attack. The mention of the mand'alor made you look up to examine his reflection in the transparisteel. He was looking straight ahead, watching the world approach as the speeder flew through the air. His face was set in a stern frown, not an uncommon sight by any means. Why was he always so angry? Was it just the nature of the sith? Was it a genetic disposition? Was it just how he was?

As if sensing your thoughts, Maul's focus suddenly switched to you - his eyes meeting yours in the reflection. You were too slow, unable to glance away in an inconspicuous manner.

His brow furrowed a little more, making his scowl all the more prominent and you preemptively held back an eye roll as you awaited the biting, accusatory question undoubtedly sitting on his tongue. "What do they mean?"

But, the question he asked was soft. He spoke in a volume befitting normal conversation, velveteen voice smooth as ever and eyes curious - not disdainful.

Your brows furrowed as you pulled yourself away from the door. "What?" Turning to face him, you remembered the weight of your armor.

"The colors." He glanced down at your cuirass. Before his eyes met yours again. "I noticed that Death Watch wears blue, you and Almec wear green. Your advisor does as well but she has purple where you have gold. What do they mean?"

There was a beat where you just sat, examining the zabrak. You didn't know why he was asking. You doubted it was simple curiosity - not from someone like him. But, if he was intending to lead your people he'd need to understand some of the more subtle aspects of your culture. Leveling your eyes with his you began. "They mean many things. The silver gleam of fresh beskar warns all who see it that the wearer is mandalorian. As does tarnished armor scored with blaster burns and scratches from close calls. But, some choose to paint over such things." Pausing, you trailed one gloved hand over the painted armor covering the other's forearm. "Death Watch has always chosen blue to represent their dedication not only to the old ways but to our home. To our brothers." You looked away from your arm to assess his expression. Pensive, and clearly a little confused but for once he had no ill will in his eyes. You continued. "I, and most of Dion, wears green because my mother chose it to be our color. But she chose it to represent our duty to the clan and to the code."

"I see." Maul said at length, eyes raking over your armor in an appraising manner. "And...what of the gold?"

"Vengeance."

If he was taken aback by your reply he did an excellent job of hiding it. But all the same, his attention snapped back to your eyes - stare level and interrogative.

"Vengeance?"

Snorting almost derisively, you turned your body to truly face him putting the full brilliance of your armor on display. "My clan's history ain't pretty. As you probably guessed already. In our early years we made more enemies than allies. But, we're tough. We're still here and those that were stupid enough to try and annihilate us aren't."

Maul was quiet as he regarded you, the full weight of your statement settling in for him.

When the silence had stretched on for too long, you broke it. "What about yours?"

"What?" Maul's incredulous face was almost funny.

Propping your helmet on your knee, you leaned on your weight on the center seat. "What do your colors mean?" You repeated slowly, making sure the words were precise and clear for the man.

Scowling he leaned closer as well. "Yes, I heard you. What colors?" He hissed.

Amused, having won your own game of getting a rise out of him, you backtracked. "Fair enough. I suppose I really should ask what do your tattoos mean?" Maul was silent. You pressed a little more. "I mean, I realize that zabraks come in many colors - though I will admit that you and your brother are the most vibrant I've seen. But, your tattoos are completely different from any other's I've seen - including members in Dion-"

"There are zabraks in Dion?"

"Don't interrupt." You frowned at the man who scowled right back. "But yes, not all of my mandos are humans. Anyways, theirs are not as intricate or as...encompassing as yours."

Maul was quiet for a while, eyes shrouded in thought as he actually gave your inquiries some consideration. Slowly, he began to explain what he could. "I will admit that the specific meanings are lost to me now - these were bestowed on me when I was very young, before I could remember -" He cut in when you opened your mouth to question him, "Savage would be more equipped to answer that." He frowned and you could have sworn he looked wistful? "But, I can at least explain our vibrancy, as you describe it." A smirk, small and covert pricked the corner of his mouth. And you hated to admit how intrigued the tiny change made you. "Savage and I are from a planet called Dathomir. Presumably the zabraks you speak of are Iridonian. They are more muted, generally speaking."

You were aware your mouth had fallen open just slightly at the mention of that planet. "Dathomir? The planet of the witches?" You missed the almost pained look that crossed his face. "I thought...I don't know what I thought. I suppose, I assumed that Dathomirians were a totally separate species."

"We are a subspecies but zabrak all the same." Maul replied offhandedly, his voice strangely airy. And it was the first time since you've started speaking again that he looked away. His bright orange eyes could be seen reflecting in the transparisteel beside him, cloudy with far off thoughts.

And suddenly, your curiosity that had flared up so suddenly was snuffed out by a pesky little feeling you knew as empathy. Casting a glance at Maul's metal legs only made the softer part of your heart ache. You were quick to stamp it out. Do not get distracted. Maul may be your ally right now, but do not forget the end game. He is a monster, he is sith. You are a warrior, you are Mando. You can't get sidetracked by tragic beginnings. Through a speaker in the roof of the hovercar came the voice of your driver, pleasantly letting you know that you two had arrived before promptly shutting up again.

As the car settled onto the landing pad, you scooped up your helmet and set it on your head. And s the protective seal hissed shut you felt the Governor facade fade away. You were a Mandalorian once more. And there was a sith at your back.

Part 5 ->

I'm not dead lmao

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