#unsure if i want it to be with my jedi maul au or not

[sabellart]

what if i made maul a toxic yuri bf. what then.

[starlightkenobi]

Master and Apprentice // A Clone Wars AU

a/n: hiya! so this is an au that ive been working on for a while, all that you need to know of the plot is that this is basically the clone wars, the only change is that ahsoka joins maul and accepts his offer in season 7 ep 10, this snippet takes place in the throne room after rex, jesse, and bo katan leave maul and ahsoka alone. ive been dreaming of writing this for a while so here you go:

also i really really really want to make this into a full chapter fic so please tell me if anyone actually wants it lmao

The world around the two figures was crumbling, and battle raged on as they stood alone, juxtaposed. Darth Maul turned, his gaze falling to the carnage that took place outside the window, his window. He huffed, and if his back had not been turned to Ahsoka, she would have seen his smug smirk. “Look at them.” He paused, drawing in a long breath. “So blissfully ignorant.”

Ahsoka tensed, unsure of the unusual circumstances. Maul was a strange creature to be sure, but something about this entire situation felt off. Even still, in a place that Ahsoka wanted to ignore, she felt as though she was meant to be here. Every place that she had gone, every choice that she had made, it led to this moment. The force had practically led her here, she just needed to figure out why. “Care to tell me what this is all about?” She tried to play it cool, change her tone to sound coy, but she felt lucky that Maul still had his back turned. This way, he might not notice how tense she really was. “Or would you rather save it for the council?” Ahsoka continued. Anakin would have probably said the same thing in this situation, she supposed.

Maul finally turned, his yellow eyes meeting her own blue ones directly for the first time since she had entered his throne room. “Oh no, no. You are the one that I wish to speak with.” He began pacing, taking sure and steady steps. “Were you not...cast out of your order?” Maul stood to face her, his hands clasped behind his back and his posture relaxed. If he was planning on fighting her, her sure as hell didn’t look like it. Still, Ahsoka was ready, her hands hovering over where her lightsabers lay strapped to her belt.

“I left voluntarily.” Ahsoka sounded less unseasy now, more sure that the words she was saying were the right ones.

“Y-yes, but you were motivated to leave by the hypocrisy of the Jedi council.” Maul was growing more impatient and irritable, Ahsoka could tell by the way his nose scrunched and his brow furrowed. She opened her mouth, ready to speak, ready to defend the order and the ways of the Jedi, but she couldn’t. She knew that she couldn’t, because nothing she could say would justify what they had done to her.

Maul sighed, his eyes wandering off introspectively. He seemed to be staring at nothing, thinking to himself. “We were both tools for greater powers.” His eyes drifted upwards, almost as if he believed this “greater power” that he spoke of was listening in. He regained his composure, returning his firm gaze to Ahsoka, who tentatively began to take steps towards him.

“I am here to bring you to justice.” Her hand gestured towards the ground as she spoke bringing greater emphasis to her words.

“Justice is merely the construct of the current power base…” Maul’s voice fluctuated as he spoke, sounding like he was trying to hold back laughter. “...A base which, according to my calculations, is about to change.”

“And Darth Sidious is behind it?” Ahsoka pried.

“He is behind everything.” Maul’s eyes darted around the room frantically, his composed posture quickly becoming tense. Whoever this Darth Sidious was, he had somehow stricken fear into this creature, Ahsoka gathered. “In the shadows, always. But soon, very soon, he will reveal himself.” Darth Maul’s breaths were heavy, and his voice shook.

“With your help, the Jedi can stop Sidious before it’s too late.” Ahsoka pleaded. Maybe this is why she was meant to be here, she thought. To gain the help of Maul and stop Sidious for good with the Jedi. Oh how wrong she was.

“Too late? For what? The Republic to fall? It already has and you just can’t see it!” Maul was raving, his voice getting louder and louder as he spoke. Or more accurately, shouted. “There is no justice! No law, no order! Except for the one that will replace it!” He breathed, trying to steady his voice. “The time of the Jedi has passed, they cannot defeat Sidious.” Ahsoka was stunned, desperately pleading with her mind to not believe his words. It didn’t matter, it was too late. She had already lost faith in the Jedi. Maul lowered his voice to an almost pleasant hum. “But together...you and I can.” Ahsoka’s gaze fell to the floor, unable to look at Maul anymore. She was disappointed in herself for even entertaining his words. “Every choice you have made has led you to this moment.” Maul’s hand outstretched towards Ahsoka and she could feel her heart sink. Was this it? Was this what she was meant to do?

As if on cue, the window burst. Glass and ash flew into the room, swirling around them both. Explosions could be heard from the throne room that were coming from all over Mandalore. The whole planet, much like Ahsoka’s world, was crumbling apart. Her very soul was in fractures. Part of her wanted to believe in the Jedi, and the other, much darker part of her, knew that Maul was right. This choice that she would make, right here and now, would shake the very fabric of the force. It could change the course of the galaxy. Ahsoka just hoped that the choice she made would change it for the better.

Finally, she met Maul’s gaze once more. She could see in his eyes that he was pleading with her. Her mouth opened to speak, but she faltered. What would her master say to this proposal? What would he do? She opened her hand and looked at it, seeing a piece of ash crumble and fall into her palm. She could reach out to him, she could take his hand right now. Ahsoka looked to Maul again, taking a deep, shaky breath. In his eyes, she saw something. A glimmer of connection that she had only seen once before, in the eyes of her former master. “I will help you.” Ahsoka’s mouth almost moved on it’s own, her brain not even truly processing that she had agreed to join forces with Darth Maul, an actual sith lord. Even if she had, it wouldn’t have changed her mind. She would have joined him anyways. Maul’s hand reached out toward he further, a small smile tugging at his lips as he practically begged her to take it. “But you must answer one question.”

“You have but to ask.” Maul took another step and stretched his arm to her even further.

“What do you want with Anakin Skywalker?”

Maul’s mind spun. He could tell her the truth, he wanted to be honest with her, but he knew that if he was, it could drive her away. It would drive her away, he was sure of it, and Maul wasn’t going to let that happen. He had come so far, gotten so close, and to lose it all here would be a blow that he couldn’t take. “He was but a pawn. Another Jedi that I could feel straying from the constraints of the order. He is useless to me now. Now, I have you.” Maul could still see hesitation in her eyes. “If he is so precious to you, I will let him live.” Maul huffed.

Ahsoka stepped towards him again, feeling more reassured. This was it, it must be it, she thought. And if Maul promised Anakin’s safety, well, how could she refuse? Gently, almost tentatively, she placed her hand in his and he grasped it tightly. He felt her hand trembling with uncertainty in his own, so he placed his other hand on top of hers, steadying it. As Ahsoka felt her hand be enveloped by Darth Maul’s, she could feel her very existence being enveloped as well. It had become shrouded in a deep, thick darkness. She was frightened, yes. But now...now there was no going back.

[lurkingcrow]

Ok, your AUs are AMAZING! Martin Luther Jinn! Dooku takes down Gerrymandering! The Dredd Pirate Jedi! And you...ORGANIZED THEM! My prequel preferences are all the AUs to fight the infinite sadness, and time travel fix its are particularly my jam. (Seeded Blackberry: dark, sweet and a little crunchy!) So, I wanted to ask you about a permutation I haven't seen, but have been noodling on. What if instead of one or a couple of travelers, it was all the Purge surviving Jedi at the Temple at once?

Wow, thanks Anon! I'm glad you're enjoying my assorted nonsense!

(and thank you for reminding me I need to update the masterlist again...)

As for the idea do you mean all the Jedi who survived to Empire Era finding themselves back at the Temple?

Because realistically, that's pretty much just Obi-Wan, Ahsoka and Kanan. And because Padawan Caleb is smol enough already, let's say they end up in the middle of the Clone Wars.

(If there are additional Jedi you're thinking of by all means let me know - I don't follow much of the extended SW media, just the main films and animated series.)

Unfortunately I'm not really sure how this would go, and a lot depends on when exactly they're travelling FROM.

Is this an Obi-Wan who saw the end of the Sith and the return of Anakin Skywalker, or the sad and traumatised hermit of the wastes?

Is Ahsoka the passionate freedom fighter wanting to avenge her Master's death or the wise mentor seeking to find a lost friend?

Is Kanan the cynical but unsure rebel focused on survival, or the self assured Master Jedi who faced death with a smile?

But still, regardless, the initial return would be HEARTBREAKING...

Because imagine it, each of them waking up in what must seem like a dream. Reaching out to the Force, and realising they're BACK. That they're surrounded by people long lost to them. But that they've also lost all they'd gained.

Kanan, or Caleb as he is now, has it worst. Because he was a grown man, be had a family, he had Hera, and now he's alone in the body of a CHILD...

Ahsoka is almost as bad because she too was forced to grow up, but for so long she was alone, except here and now she's got an overprotective Skyguy and the boys in the 501st and you wouldn't think their love could hurt but it BURNS...

And Obi-Wan? Obi-Wan is so very very tired, worn so thin he can't see because he barely survived losing everyone once, how can he possibly do it again and oh how hard it is to try and pretend to be the man he was when he left the General behind in the sands of Tatooine...

But it would also be HILARIOUS.

Because each of them would think they were here alone. That it was up to them to change the future.

Which of course means you have scenes with Ahsoka doing her best to stick to Anakin like glue, but getting interrupted by Obi-Wan deciding to re-establish his own relationship via close solo missions, and she can't even get time to plot because somehow there's a smol Caleb trying to get her attention and she doesn't want to turn him down because he's a future friend and...

You get the idea ;)

Ahsoka and Kanan probably work out about each other first. And Ahsoka probably convinces him that they should tell Obi-Wan because they'll need his help...

Only to be surprised when on telling him there story Master Kenobi lets out an undignified laugh before shaking himself out and smiling.

"Caleb Dume is it? I met your Padawan once. You should be proud. Few can stand up to Maul the way he did."

(Sorry that's all I have for the moment, I may come back to it later once I'm less brain-dead)

[aces-to-apples]

May The Fourth Be With You (And Also With You)

I don’t have anything ready to post for May the Fourth this year, boo!, but instead I’ll steal Dharma’s idea of posting a snippet of all my applicable WIPs, yay!

“Sugar and Spice” aka The Nika Fic aka genderbent AU crosses over with canon-verse a la Universe Collisions by Sroloc_Elbisivni

The Jedi took a couple more shuddering breaths. “Anyone else need a top-up?” she asked, voice steady but gaze fixed on the dank rock wall.

Rex exchanged looks with Kix, who straightened and surveyed his patients, clearly weighing who among them could use the help. The men themselves—Onyx, left hand useless from taking a swing at a clanker when his power-pack ran out; Honeycutt, nursing a couple cracked, possibly broken, ribs; Fives, unable to stand on his right leg—shared a non-verbal conversation of their own.

“Onyx can't shoot and Fives can't walk.” Honeycutt gave up the names with vicious pragmatism, ignoring both men as they silently threatened to space him once they were back on the Vigilance.

The Jedi looked between them with a small smile—at Fives who was stubbornly trying to get to his feet in protest, at Onyx who gripped his deece in his non-dominant hand like he was contemplating bludgeoning Honeycutt with it, and at Honeycutt himself with his arms crossed over his chest, one hand subtly nursing the injured ribs. “What about you, tough guy? Need a hand?”

“I can walk and I can fight,” Honeycutt said defiantly. He jerked a thumb at the other two. “That's more than these idiots can claim, and you're the one who asked.”

“True enough,” was her easy reply, but her eyes held a challenge. “How well can you breathe, though?”

He bared his teeth at her. “Well enough to argue with you… sir.”

Rex was prepared to step between them, to apologize for Honeycutt’s disrespectful attitude, but held back another beat. As half of him suspected she would, the Jedi threw her head back and cackled.

“Oh, I like you,” she announced with a grin, the color swiftly returning to her cheeks and her eyes sparkling. “You got a name, tough guy?”

“… Honeycutt,” he replied, looking from her to Rex and back. Rex couldn't do more than shrug, because he didn't know either. “Corporal Honeycutt.”

“Pleased to meet you, Honeycutt. I'm Nika.” She held out a hand to him, palm up, and watched his eye it distrustfully, shell-pink lips curved to one side. After a second, he took it and she hauled him to his feet. “Now, let’s see what we can do about those ribs, shall we?”

(Working title:) “Friends, Foes, and Telling the Difference” aka part three of “A Non-Comprehensive Guide To Force-Sensitivity”

The boy watched their interaction with the same lackadaisical interest the young Zabrak had demonstrated during their journey. “What does the Force feel like to you?” he finally said, blinking owlishly as Dooku refused to choke on his Tarine tea and delicately cleared his throat. “When Ben talks about it, it’s all very mystical-sounding. Cool winds and noiseless whispers, like a friendly ghost or a helpful spirit. Feelings and stuff. But when Maul talks about the Force, it’s more like instincts and heightened senses. It’s more physical than, I dunno, spiritual. So I wanted to know what it’s like for you.”

“That,” Dooku replied, placing his teacup on the table just so, “is a very personal question, young Skywalker.”

Anakin tilted his head innocently and said, “Oh, is it?” but his even his shields—well-made and well-maintained both from within and without—do poorly to contain the bright, bubbling amusement he was polite enough to hold back. Clearly, he knew very well what he was doing, and Dooku had to admire the tenacity of a such a young boy teasing a Jedi Master whilst genuinely seeking information.

He hummed pointedly and stared the unrepentant boy down, but considered the question in earnest. Knowledge for the sake of knowledge was a worthy pursuit. “Your brothers,” Dooku said the word carefully, weighing its meaning as he met the boy’s eyes, “were both correct. The Force can manifest in various ways, and it’s likely different for every being who experiences it. For many, whether they purposefully follow the ways of the Force or not, it acts in a more passive manner: a feeling of wrongness when danger is near, a keen sense of distrust when one is being deceived, or even just a quiet knowledge of where to go or what to say at a certain moment.”

Young Skywalker nodded thoughtfully, his eyes far away. “That’s very interesting, sir,” he said after a moment. “I think Ben will like you, if you ever meet. You both talk the same way, like you’ll get a prize at the end of the day for how many questions you can avoid answering. That, or he’ll hate your guts. It’s hard to say with Ben.”

Queen Amidala smothered a giggle.

“Well,” Dooku drawled, picking his tea back up, “Maul seems determined to dislike myself and my companion, so I think not.”

The boy shrugged and gulped down the rest of his milk with a grin. “Maybe, maybe not,” he cheerfully declared. “Those two disagree so much, I think it’s on purpose. Mom says they were like two tomcats until I was born, always arguing and hissing at each other, so Ben might decide he likes you just to be contrary.”

“An interesting way to raise a child,” Dooku noted, dry as the desert air outside. “If they disagree so often, you must have quite a bit of conflicting information on a great many topics.”

“Dab’ika Vaar’kara” aka the Camp Half-Blood AU an anon accidentally requested when they combined “summer camp” and “magical accidents” during a trope mash-up ask meme

“Now, as new arrivals, you're given a certain amount of leeway when it comes to the rules, regulations, and realities of living in the Godsworld.” Rex fixed the little ones—nearly fourteen and just barely scraping in under the wire in regards to the required claiming age—with a hard stare. “After orientation, you will be expected to either figure out what you don't know yourself or keep your trap shut. Understood, cadets?”

It was a blatant lie, of course; Cody could already see Kix’s bunk littered with sheets of flimsi covered in drawings, diagrams, and written explanations. Still, it was the spirit of the thing, yeah? A’sev had scared them witless when they’d first arrived at camp, and now that he was off doing Paladin shit, it fell to them to keep the tradition alive. It was a beautiful cycle, really, and watching the tiny shinies straighten up and shout “sir, yes, sir” like Rex was a fucking drill sergeant was hilarious.

“First off,” Rex continued, beginning to pace rather impressively in front of the duo. Cody had a hard time not joining the boys in their next snickerfit. “Congratulations on surviving your first monster encounter—besting an abaia while it’s got a home-field advantage is no easy feat. You did yourselves, and all your brothers, proud.”

The rookies straightened up that much more under the praise and Cody felt his need to smirk warring with the impulse to coo. “Whose idea was it to get it to charge into the rocks?” he asked curiously. They'd taken bets, watching from the shore.

“Mine, sir,” the one with the crew-cut said, taking a small step forward. A ripple spread through the cabin as they all noticed he'd subtly placed himself between his twin and Rex. That kind of body-language, combined with the late claiming, didn't bode well.

“Well done,” Rex acknowledged with a nod. “It was reckless, but well-executed. Just the kind of thinking we need in Mandalore Cabin. You got a name, shiny?”

“Ferdinand, sir,” the kid said without any hint of irony. They all winced in sympathy, because yeesh. “This is Emrys.”

Seeing that Rex didn't quite know how to phrase it, Cody asked, “You boys got nicknames?”

Their reaction was… worrying.

“Sir, no, sir,” Ferdinand—poor fucking kid—immediately denied, panic well-hidden to anyone not used to reading every variation of the face the Mand’alor’s poor decisions had stuck them all with. “We’re proud to carry these names and would never—”

“Anyone here calls me Emrys, I’ll break their fucking nose,” the long-haired twin cut in, stepping forward so that they stood shoulder to shoulder. “Got it?”

“Blood On The Ice” aka the Skyrim AU that I’ve world-built wayyyy more than I’ve actually written

The first glimpse of Coruscant—snow-dusted, crumbled stone reeking of despair—holds true as Ahsoka enters the city proper. Barrels of supplies do little to mask its deepening poverty when the cobblestones themselves shift beneath her feet.

A little Human girl, clad only in a threadbare red dress, entreats her to buy a wildflower and Ahsoka’s heart breaks at the girl’s gratitude when she agrees. She’d heard of Skyrim’s civil war back home, but had thought the children would be spared from adult pettiness. In Valenwood, the Green cares for younglings nearly as much as their parents; in the home and hold of the Storm-Hand, it seems, children shiver and starve. Not yet an hour in his hold, Ahsoka finds herself unimpressed with the rebellious Human king.

Unsure which path to take from her ingress, she chooses randomly and goes right.

Lined with homes and shops in various states of disrepair, Ahsoka regrets her choice until she spots an older gentleman lingering in a doorway. Her shoulders slump with relief to see one of her Twi’lek cousins, even bundled in the furs and leathers needed in the harsh Skyrim climate, rather than colorful Morrowind silks.

“Greetings, nerra,” she says warmly, stepping closer and holding out a hand.

The man appears nonplussed for a moment but replies with an affable, “Welcome, numa,” and clasps her forearm. “Are you new to Coruscant, gida?” he asks, nodding at her bow and daggers. “Most elves know better than to appear before the Stormhands so armed.”

untitled time-travel fic currently referred to in-house as “first battle of geonosis time-travel fic” aka this fic

And on it goes, a litany of ghosts and brothers lost to the stars. He matches numbers to names as they speak through the darkness: Fives and Echo, Jesse, Hardcase, and Kix, Onyx and Honeycutt, Razzy, Ringo, Tup—even Dogma, quietest and most hesitant of all. The barest bones of Torrent Company; eleven dead men walking, and Rex makes a full squad.

Numbers are and ever will be your greatest strength, your keenest advantage, he recalls the woman saying at one point, somewhere between his failed intruder alert and the imperious wave of her hand that sent him to his knees, heaving.

“Where the frip’s my bucket,” a voice gripes—Ringo, by the sound of it. The only reply he receives beyond repetitions of the same question, “Prob’ly right where you left it,” comes from Razzy, no question. It's both a relief and a punch to the gut to hear Ringo gripe, “Umbara, then, with the rest of me.”

“Oh, hey, mine too,” Hardcase pipes up, saying it like a joke, like it was funny. “Anyone else kick it on that sith-hole?”

“Yeah, Krell,” Five answers into the uncomfortable silence. It sounds like he’s smiling; the smile doesn’t sound very nice.

“Ori’haat?” Hardcase says, intrigued and vaguely impressed. “You do the honors?”

And finally, “chasing a dream” aka the summary and first couple sentences of the Treasure Planet AU that I absolutely forgot I was going to write at some point

Her name isn’t Hawkins. The cyborg isn’t silver. And the closest thing she has to a father isn’t a caninoid species. They’ve got the makings of greatness in them all the same.

-

Ahsoka is six years old when she meets her very best friend in the whole wide galaxy. He's a Guardian—only a little one, though, like she's only a little Jedi—and he's got the same warm brown skin and golden-brown eyes that his brothers do, but he's also got a bunch of bright yellow hair.

[doorsclosingslowly]

Lithops (1/4)

aka “I just want someone to wrap Savage in a blanket after Witches of the Mist, wait why does Maul have a wookiee padawan now??” Still fiddling with the wording and I’ve written drafts for all parts apart from the scene I made this AU up for (wow I suck) and I’ve gotten used to the luxury of rewriting all parts simultaneously into a coherent whole instead of doing a WIP, so I’m probably gonna change stuff, but. First draft done.

thx @sl-walker for saying it’s not bad fanfic when i made fun of myself for making up this AU!!!!

The comm system flashes insistently, just when Scimitar is about to begin her slow long dive over nightly Kooriva. An uncommon enough sight in and of itself, the incoming calls signal, but it’s especially worrying now, when Maul was just about to disable every system apart from life support in order to drift down undetected. Being contacted shouldn’t happen. It doesn’t figure into the plan. It shouldn’t even be possible, really, after the myriad precautions they’ve taken, including a complete scrubbing of Scimitar’s telecommunications facilities.

The mission’s delicate: Padawan Gwyolduhbeccu has secured an unpaid internship in the Trade Federation’s local office, and Maul himself is infiltrating Senator Passel Argente’s home staff and investigating possible Sith ties, without drawing any attention. Without notifying him—notifying the traitor Dooku, notifying the Galactic Senate—of the Jedi Order’s suspicions.

It’s dangerous, and more than slightly illegal. It requires extreme discretion.

That’s why they sent Maul, after all.

(His infiltrations may be called dark, by those who value looking pure over Jedi lives, but Maul knows better. The Council knows better. The good of the many outweighs a Knight’s image.)

This mission is delicate. No-one has this frequency. No-one, apart from select members of the Council.

Padawan Becs is just as unnerved, apparently. She moans in agitation. Her claw pauses over the console, and waits to poke it until Maul has given his permission.

Maul glances at the chronometer and sighs. This is unwise. The Trade Federation could be scanning the space around Kooriva for any type of signal. They certainly have the credits for data mining centers with sophisticated algorithms and an army of sentient overseers; the collection of ridiculously large quantities of irrelevant data should provide no deterrence. However, weighing the slightly increased risk of discovery against the certainty of lecturing, when they return home after the scheduled month of communications blackout… The consequences are nowhere near comparable, but he truly does not enjoy being accused of not taking the Council seriously. He authorizes the call and says, “Good afternoon, Master Windu.”

“Re-route immediately.” No time for politeness, then. Just as well.

“I apologize, Master Windu, but this current mission is extremely time-critical and above all, requires stealth,” Maul says, even while he brings the engines back online. Three months of intel gathering, weeks of prep, the soft Koorivan inflections they’ve trained into their accents. The internship application, with its carefully calibrated set of competences and loyalties and naiveté, and the pitiful story of a wookiee orphan, so far from Kashyyyk, just yearning for a chance to prove herself. The complete overhaul and ghastly repainting of Scimitar. All for nothing.

He pulls the ship around and guns the engines.

Carefully, Maul breathes out his irritation before he adds, “Flying this close to Kooriva could possibly alert Senator Argente—”

“Re-route. I’m sending the exact coordinates now.”

“But, Master, that’s just… empty space?” Gwyolduhbeccu asks when she’s set the navcomputer.

Maul repeats the question in Basic.

Master Windu shakes his head. “It’s the location of a Separatist frigate. The projected location, based on realspace travel at constant speed without altering its trajectory. It should be accurate for at least half an hour, so hurry. Master Kenobi and Skywalker have tracked Savage Opress there, Dooku’s new apprentice. He’s murdered the Toydarian king and abducted the corpse.”

“So, this is a reinforcement?” Maul remembers meeting Dooku in person, dimly, when he was a new Padawan and Dooku hadn’t yet turned traitor. He was an impressive swordsman, and cold. Maybe he just didn’t like Master Windu.

He’s never met the new Sith—his own modus operandum is infiltration and plausible deniability in service of all beings that live in the galaxy, not sudden mindless carnage, and so their paths are not likely to cross—but he has heard of Devaron’s fate. Of the slaughter of the Jedi there. Increasing their numbers on the frigate is prudent, regardless of Obi-Wan and Skywalker’s undeniable skill.

It’s flattering that Master Windu has recognized Maul as a match for the Sith’s apparent brutal strength, but… “Was it necessary to terminate my mission? Surely there are other adept fighters in the vicinity.”

“There are no zabraks in close proximity.”

Maul’s glove creaks. “Master—”

“Dathomiri hybrids are a very tribal people,” Master Windu says, as if Maul didn’t know this, hadn’t researched and rejected the planet that spat him out. As if he hadn’t been watched like a farlus hawk as a baby, after the desperate Nightsister that may have been his mother had chanced upon a travelling Jedi and handed him over, her parting gift nothing but life and the markings that wind around his body and stink of dark magic. Nightbrothers are tribal, Master Windu says, as if it was new information. As if Maul hadn’t been watched, not just for the darkness of his blood but for the so-called inborn need for affection.

The meticulous research he did on the Sith until Master Nu tossed him out of the library, the way he studied the pitfalls of the dark side that he was going to avoid—luminous beings are we, it is his choice alone and biology is nothing—it’s always been taken as a marker of something indelibly sinister.

The missions he takes provoke whispers of a congenital darkside taint he cannot escape, when they truly are nothing but evidence of his utter dedication to the Jedi Order. His reluctance to order his Padawan into battle is not prudence, apparently. It isn’t even classed as ambition, although training a youngling to knighthood and therefore receiving the rank of Master is certainly easier if the Padawan isn’t shot dead. No. It’s being tribal.

He pointedly does not seethe. It’s hard.

“He will recognize you. Opress has murdered many of our most capable Knights and Masters, but he’s still a nightbrother. I do not believe he would attack his own kin the same way.”

This is too much. Maul loses his grip on serenity. “You’re terminating my mission because of my biological species.”

Master Windu sighs. “Knight Maul—”

“I am one of the only Jedi who could challenge this new Sith on my own and win, and you know this. I am disciplined. I am powerful. I have completed every mission you have ever sent me on.” Every mission, apart from Kooriva, now. Blast it all.

“Maul—”

“Few Jedi have mastered Vaapad, and I am one of them. You trained me yourself. You trained me. You were proud of me, you said. And now, you are sending me into this fight because both me and the Sith happen to have horns.”

“I did not say that.”

Really? Maul raises a single contemptuous eyebrow. He makes sure his left hand is in full view of the holocom lens before he waggles index and middle finger and enunciates, “Opress ‘would not attack his own kin’ is how I believe you phrased it.”

The miniature blue Master Windu looks at him, completely unimpressed.

Kriff. And in front of Gwyolduhbeccu, too. “I apologize, Master,” Maul says. Not, ‘I don’t know what came over me.’ That would be a lie, and he’s been enough of a bad example today. Not, ‘I was wrong.’ Still, he shouldn’t have complained.

“Accepted.” Master Windu’s face comes closer. He’s bending over the holocom, now, for some reason. It’s as if he’s whispering a secret. Maul doesn’t want to be more curious than angry, but he is. “I am not just sending you because you are born of Dathomir, Maul. This is a shatterpoint. I have felt it. Somehow, this fight with Savage Opress will matter. I trust you will treat this situation with the gravity it deserves. Do not listen to your pride. Listen to the force.”

“ETA five minutes for the rendezvous with the frigate, Master. May the force be with you,” Maul says, and switches off the holocomm.

Becs grins.

“It is beyond me why you’re so elated, Padawan. We’re flying into an active war zone. This is a code esk mission, now, and you’re going to keep your feet in the ship, your eyes on the comm and the engines hot, in case Kenobi and Skywalker need sudden evac when I find them. You may gun down any approaching droids.”

“Don’t be grumpy, Master,” Gwyolduhbeccu moans. “Master Windu loves you too.”

Maul shakes his head in mock despair, and then he stretches out his arms as well as he can behind the steering wheel. There’s no time or room for proper meditation, but still, it is better than nothing, and he should be calm. He should be loose-limbed, not cramped from hours of flight and bad news and the conversations about Dathomir he cannot seem to escape.

Savage Opress is not to be underestimated. Their unfortunate biological connection has reawakened criticisms Maul thought were laid to rest long ago.

This fight will matter.

Kinda unsure about making Maul this angry because on the one hand, this is Not the Jedi ideal, but otoh he has Reasons