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:Within the Starship Hangar of the Palace of Nabu, tPM:
The moment he entered the hangar, he knew.
The sense, so base and primal within him, had been ignited only a few weeks prior. It had rocked the Zabrak to his core- confounded the dark teachings of the Sith within him. What he once forsook as a possibility now thrummed just as strongly within him as the force. And he would not, could not ignore it. His Dathomirian heritage- long forgotten- now fought for a voice in his mind, and it was a delicate balance to allow it the obstinate access it demanded while keeping the flowing darkness of the force in power. When he had first realized the truth, the Sith within him had raged, because how could this truly have been possible? But- with the greatest of grudges- he knew that both the light and the dark sides of the force believed in one thing. And that principle soothed his hurt pride, curdled his violent desire for revenge.
Whatever happened, it was by the will of the force.
He lifted his head slowly, ignoring the weak citizen guard that surrounded the small ruler who had been his initial target. He sent out a wave of his power through the force, watching all but two tellingly dressed individuals in the back freeze. One, the elder, met his gaze with an intensity of his own, calmly accepting his presence in the infuriating way as only a Jedi can.
The younger, though…
The blue eyes widened as the menace of Darth Maul’s presence hit him. The Sith felt a purr of pleasure at finally seeing the little Jedi face to face. The boy was shocked, horrified. Maul could only guess what a surprise it was to finally face a Sith Lord, after his teachings had drilled into him over and over that such fighters no longer existed. Oh, they survived. And now his gaze burned the padawan with its intensity, with feral possession.
His mate had been found.
He sent out another wave into the force, a challenge. The ignorant Nabu who knew nothing of the force would not understand the sensation. They would only know that they feared this cloaked being- and wisely dispersed away and out of his presence. Good. He could achieve his master’s goal later, after acquiring what was meant to be his.
“We’ll handle this.” The Jedi Master stared him down, probing the force for a sign of weakness. His mate stayed at his master’s side, his turmoil of the events clearly felt through the force. They approached, and Maul lowered his hood, allowing the full display of his tattoos and horns to be taken in, to show already his dominance over the weaker, softer beings. In typical arrogant Jedi fashion, they ignored it, but he felt the faint web of intrigue come from his chosen, and relished knowing his display of power had an effect. Soon he would see what other displays could awaken a reaction from the stoic young Jedi.
He had to rid himself of the Master. No one could defend the boy from him except the old Jedi. No one could stop him from taking what was his, except this man. He readied his duo saber, quelling the primal instinct in favor of getting the job done. He took the first step, but his mate was the one who surged forward to fight. Within moments the two wielders of the light force danced around him, ignorantly playing into his hands as he tested the waters for their strengths and fighting styles.
His chosen was… not eager for battle, but his actions spoke of rash and quick decisions, quickly trying to fight his way to victory. Still naïve in the ways of combat. The master was well acquainted with the art of battle, though, and Maul could sense the more precise strokes were his method of testing- waiting for a slip up instead of fighting to creating one.
The Dathomirian part of him kept quiet, confident in his skills to fight these creatures and not kill his mate. He now had a plan formed in his mind, and quickly set to it. The only way to succeed was to separate and dominate, but the young one was eager to protect his pathetic master. He could try to play that. Quickly, he executed a kick to the elder, knocking him down and away. Simultaneously, he danced out of reach of the padawan, his flamboyant actions taunting. As anticipated, the boy followed, ignorantly dedicated to taking down the man who came to claim him. The plan was working, his inner desires stirring as he led the boy towards a new chamber, opening it with the help of the force and then luring the child to follow. The little Jedi held the briefest of hesitations, but didn’t stop- willfully ignorant of the Zabrak’s ensured victory. However, just a moment too soon the master was back, through the door before he had a chance to close it and ready to engage his quarry.
He hissed, inwardly raging at being thwarted, but knew it was far from over. Then Maul saw something in the Jedi Master that was disconcerting: realization. The green saber wielder now understood part of his plan, and clearly would not allow the Zabrak to isolate himself with the padawan again.
Fine, there’s more than one way to separate you.
As his chosen flew back in, thinking to join the fight, Maul threw him aside, knowing he would have to step up his attack and couldn’t guarantee the boy’s safety when it occurred. He hurried to the power gauge center, using his knowledge of the fortress to plan his next move. The boy was relentless, and continued to come at him, but eventually he was set back enough that Darth Maul could maneuver the elder Jedi to a location not as quickly reached.
Once he dispatched the old man, nothing could protect his prize from being taken.
At one point he again almost succeeded. Instead, a flair of rage echoed through him as they were separated in the force field corridor- he wanted this Jedi dead now! He paced the confined space, eyes looking away from the teacher and to the student who had managed to catch up. Maul felt the fear and stifled anger coming from his mate, and it set his teeth on edge that it was for the pathetic life form kneeling before him. Soon, he would have the boy’s attention only on him. But the Zabrak instincts rose within him as well, sending out a dark caress to his child- his chosen. His mate should fear nothing; he would ensure his mate would fear nothing because he was there. His chosen did not need to fight, he needed to stay away, stay back until the threat was gone.The boy lowered his light saber, turning it off as his mind grew confused by the powerful compulsion. Maul inwardly grinned, satisfied by the reaction, but his actions through the force were suddenly blocked, the elder Jedi shielding his padawan from the subtle attack.
The Zabarak felt a new wave of rage as the little Jedi shook his hold off, re-igniting his saber in preparation. As the field died, his little one’s protector sprung from his position, fighting with a new intensity that the Sith met blow for blow.
“You cannot have him.” The light warrior murmured, brow furrowed in concentration, but the words were laced with steely determination despite their quiet nature.
“Fool.” Maul hissed back. He could see the boy had been stopped by the field, just in time. “You’ve already lost him.”
He doubled his attack, furious that this being had the audacity to come between him and his chosen. HIS. He continued the onslaught of attacks, baiting and baiting the master until he saw an opening. It was pathetically easy, knocking him in the chin to give a moment of stunned hesitation, but it was enough.
His mate’s cry of dismay echoed through the closed space, and he turned to face the boy. The padawan had forgotten the Sith entirely, eyes only focused heart-breakingly on the closest creature he had ever had to family. He scoffed at the weakness, but his heritage once again grew the better of him, seeking to claim, to calm, to protect. Instinctually he sent out a wave in the force, surrounding the child, urging him that ssh, ssh, it will be well, you are mine now. Be calm, submit. The blue-eyed boy wrenched his eyes away from the sight of his fallen master, turning to the Sith, face full of confusion and fear.
Submit, submit to me.
But his order was for naught, he saw the hardening in the padawan’s eyes, the fury at his teacher’s demise. He would not give in- not without being cowed himself. Maul watched as he built up his frenzy of anger, igniting and holding his saber at ready. The Sith responded in kind, part of him satisfied for the chance to prove himself to the boy. Prove he was the dominate one. But he would have to be careful, careful not to cause permanent damage.
His mate did not give him an opening for care. He attacked with more vicious than ever before. Attacking- attacking- attacking. The Dathomirian purred inwardly at the fighting prowess, recognizing that though young, his mate would be very strong one day. Mine, he thought as he parried the blows, allowing some flamboyancy in the name of displaying his own grace. MINE.
They struck and parried, dodged and flipped. A furious dance of control that sent the Zabrak’s heart thrumming. The little Jedi was growing tired, though. He could see the actions have a slight delay, the effort put into them more forced and strained. He needed to end this, now. He pushed the child away through the force, and for a moment felt panic as his prize stumbled over the edge. But the presence of the young one echoed back to him in a flutter of relief, and he looked over the edge to find his clever mate was indeed worthy of his pursuit. Noting the light saber near his feet, he sent it over the edge- relishing as he watched his chosen’s expression fall. He knew, now. His protector was dying mere feet away, his weapon forever lost. Nothing was left.
Nothing but to give up.
“Well, little one?” He sneered down, his fangs gleaming in the light. “What will you do now?” He sent another wave into the force, flooding the child’s light and clouding it. The fear in his chosen’s thoughts urged the being to be gentle, think, this was his mate. But the Sith within him wanted the Jedi to writhe, to be distraught that there was no solution for his struggle.
Admittedly, when his mate told him he should go and do something anatomically impossible, he fed into his Zabrak nature and let his offended anger rush forward. How dare he? The pink creature below him was weak and frail compared to himself, yet he did not submit. Using his saber, he showered sparks down on the fool’s head in retaliation, continuing his manipulation within the force to break down the child.
You are mine. Submit, there is no other way.
But then he did find a solution. And had Maul been any slower, he would have died at the hands of his prize before it had been captured. The boy leaped into the air, using the force to drive himself up an otherwise supernatural height. The Sith first thought to defend against the obvious attack coming, but then saw a flicker in his peripheral vision.
His master’s weapon, of course!
He knocked his mate aside, back onto level ground, and felt satisfaction as his hand curled around the saber now sent array. The little Jedi groaned, but quickly turned on the floor to face him, expression a pleasurable mixture of horror and despair. Darth Maul stared down at the defeated padawan, sprawled and shaking and perspiring in fear. He fought the urge to crow a war cry of victory as his ancestors had done when claiming theirs. He was a Sith more than a Dathomirian, and it was enough to silently gloat with the two sabers ignited, green and red crossing in front of him in a position that signaled a wait for attack.
The blue eyes were impossibly wide now, his signature in the force frenzied with futile panic and desire to flee as the Zabrak continued to thwart those efforts. He took a step forward, another, and felt distinct satisfaction as the little Jedi shakingly crawled back, brushing against the wall and freezing when he realized there was nowhere else to go. Maul grinned, all fangs. “I have you now, little one.”
“O-Obi-Wan…”
Disbelieving, he turned, still aware of his prize’s position, and saw the killing blow had not yet killed the elder Jedi. He couldn’t rise, not fully, but he had turned himself enough to reach out like some pathetic life form towards his student, eyes filled with pain and regret.
“Master.”
Darth Maul hissed as this wayward mate made a motion towards the Jedi, but froze when the Zabrak’s attention returned to him. The tone was so broken, so caring for this man who was not his mate. It boiled the Dathomirian’s blood. Looking back to the dying Jedi, he knew the man was no longer a threat. His time was probably numbered in minutes. Yet that did not quell the fury of how strong a hold he held over his prize. Make your mate watch. Hissed the dark side. Show him who truly has the power here.
The horned man moved to do just that, would have done just that, but the boy evidently saw what was to happen.
“Don’t!”
Partly feeling exasperation, he turned back to- Obi-Wan, was it? An unworthy Jedi name. The boy had lifted himself using the wall, and his own hand now was foolishly outstretched. He tugged it back when Maul faced him, justifiably worried it would be cut off for such a pathetic attempt. But those eyes… those eyes were now only on him, begging him. His mate. Maul let out a predatory growl, one that was low and rumbled satisfyingly in his chest. The younger man didn’t flinch physically, but he felt it in the force, felt how the sound warmed the fear in the Jedi’s torso.
The boy stared at him, eyes so strangely blue compared to Maul’s natural yellow. Obi-Wan knew there was nothing he could counter, no reason to offer to make a Sith not kill a Jedi, but Maul saw something else that the boy couldn’t know he was doing.
His posture, his tone, his expression, they all spoke of it: submission.
“Don’t… please.”
The Zabrak’s instincts made him pause. Mate. He felt the insistent tug. Stay your hand for your mate. He glanced one last time at the fast fading Jedi Master, then deactivated the sabers in his hands. His mate was asking for the wrong reasons, but he was right. That dying creature wasn’t what was important.
Walking forward, he invaded his target’s space until the little one had himself pushed against the wall, the unknowing instincts desperate to find a way out. He saw the edges of panic enter the padawan, and quickly slammed into him, knowing he had to handle this quickly- time was now of the essence. His arm firmly fell against the shorter one’s neck, and he gasped for air, hands automatically clinging to the appendage in a desperate attempt to get it off. While the pink fingers dug pointlessly into his sleeve, his other arm reached to the back of his belt, grabbing a small hand-held injector. He had initially been given it to help capture Senator Amidala, but it would work just as well for transporting his prize. Deftly, he stabbed into the boy’s shoulder, sending out a darkly soothing caress in the force when the boy gasped in pain from the injection.
Maul kept his well muscled arm pinned against his neck, watching the entire struggle as Obi-Wan went from desperately needing air to realizing something was wrong and the sweet rise of desperate help in his eyes. "Sssh..." His free hand came up and stroked away a trail of sweat near his eye, the action uncharacteristically gentle. "Let go, little Jedi."
The jedi kept up the struggle against his hold a little longer, but within a few moments his insistent tugging weakened, his gasps slowing, and his frightened eyes fluttered closed. Waiting only a beat longer, the Zabrak released his hold, letting the figure slump forward. He was even smaller unconscious, and without much finesse the Sith settled the child over his shoulder. With any luck, it would be an easy escape to his ship and then out of there, but he had learned long ago not to trust on such circumstances.
He glanced one last time back over his shoulder as he reached the entryway, looking down on the now unconscious elder Jedi. A fanged grin came to his face when he recalled the assurity that the Master had spoken when he had denied Maul his prize.
Pleased, Darth Maul continued on, one hand carefully supporting his chosen mate.
He’s mine now.