A.N. This is one of those "five things that never happened to *insert name here*" I chose Maul. The scenes switch between different styles. Why? To mix things up, and (hopefully) make it more entertaining.
"I need your help."
He looks up, crossing his arms. "Oh? And how do I believe you? How do I know this isn't some trap to kill me? Again."
I smirk slightly. "You don't."
His tired eyes crinkle in humor. "I thought you might say that." His eyebrows quirk. "Well, what do you need help with?"
My face twists to a snarl, but not for him. We're friends now, I believe, despite our differences. And battles. At least, for now we are. "Revenge," I say. "Dooku, is the victim. Surely you know him."
He nods. "I know who he is. But why? What has he done to you?"
"Everything." He doesn't need details. I expect him to question further, but he doesn't. He just stands there, staring. Waiting, I think. For what, though, I have no clue. "Well, Kenobi, are you in?" Personally, I think his staring is a bit…antagonizing.
His face breaks out in a smile. "Yes, Maul. I'm in."
I smile back. "Great, Kenobi."
proditus est via of sith
treachery is the way of the sith
Maul grinned slightly as the master fell to the ground, grunting. It sounded like he broke his neck. Wouldn't that be lovely?
He used the Force to collapse the balcony on top of him, crushing him. Maul felt a surge in the Force, and, suddenly, was flying backwards. Only a quick roll in mid-air stopped him from landing in a heap. He rose gracefully, looking up at Skywalker. He felt a shiver run down his back. The way Skywalker stood—and how he stood—was troubling appropriate. Him, Maul, on the ground, looking up. And Skywalker standing proud, looking down, as if he was in control here. No wonder Sidious wanted him…
Maul gestured to Skywalker, wanting—needing?—to get that image out of his head; it seemed as if it was a dream not yet seen. Skywalker leapt, as Maul backed away, placing his crimson 'saber in defense. Skywalker came at him with a fury. His lightsaber swung faster, quicker, stronger. Maul was finding it hard to keep up.
And matters didn't help when Sidious decided to interfere—"Don't fear what you're feeling, Anakin! Strike him! Strike him down!"—for Maul now found himself being pushed further back, absently wondering whose side he was on. Skywalker struck out, and cut his double-bladed saber in half. Maul, surprised, paused, giving Skywalker the advantage. He was now kneeling before Skywalker, the two blades crossed at his throat.
A chuckle strikes the otherwise silent air. "Good, Anakin. Good." The voice grew grave. "Kill him. Kill him now."
Maul stared at his Master in surprise, once again wondering which side he was on. "But, Chancellor, you promised me immunity! That—"
"Only if you didn't hurt my friends—" Maul snorted, outwardly "—and if you released me."
Maul looked back up at Skywalker, submissive of his fate. Skywalker hesitated, the blades trembling. Maul only nodded, and the blades cut his head off.
Treachery is the way of the Sith
of diligo quod tragedy
of love and tragedy
He fell, crying. Why, though, he had no idea. Jedi did not know love.
He stroked her cheek, falling into the green depths of her eyes. "I love you," he whispered.
She kissed him.
For a moment, he was brought back. They were leaning against each other, eyes closed. The smell of flowers and sea-salt would hit their noses. Faint noises would hit their ears. But they would only know each other.
A shot rang out, and he was brought back.
For tonight, it was only them. No plotting, no politics, no war. Just them, and their love.
And he wonders—not what would happen if the Jedi found out, none of the consequences—but what the name of the child would be.
If they had a child. Hopefully, someday, they will.
He walks to the gardens, wondering if this is all a dream. Wondering if he'll wake up, and she'll be by his side.
Her name is a scream of anguish on his lips. "Faenri!" He rushes forward, hoping to save the only one person he fights for. He reaches for their bond, to find only hardened shields. He shakes his head. "Don't do this to me, Faenri. Don't shut me out," he whispers to himself.
Finally, he's at her side, kneeling on the ground. "Open your shields, Fae." She weakly shakes her head. He stands, then, to get some sort of help. But she grabs his arm, stopping any movement. "I need to get help, Fae!" His voice despairs, and he's scared.
"I'm dying, love. Nothing can save me." He can hardly hear her.
"No! You're not dying! You can't…."
She coughs viciously, blood spluttering from her mouth, joining the blood pooling on her stomach. "Too…late."
He sobs, trying to deny her words, but he knows the truth. He caress' her cheeks, bending down, almost touching her lips.
He falls to the ground, lost in memories.
"I love Faenri Teylio."
"Love you, Gerno Dedoo."
He kisses her lips, blood and all, and her arm falls across his horny head. She sighs, content.
vel astrum exuro sicco
even stars burn out
You watch as flames creep along the sides of a once magnificent building. (though it's still magnificent. it always will be, no matter how many times it falls to the ground)
You can hear the screams, however faint. (maybe it's the clones screaming; not the Jedi) But you know that not be true.
You see the stars shining (why? why must they shine so bright on such a monstrous night), and a phrase from a Jedi friend comes back to you.
Even stars burn out.
You mourn for their death, and hope it's quick. But you know it isn't; their screams prove it.
Silently, you wonder if that could be you.
You also wonder if that could be you killing them.
(no! push that thought out! out)
But that thought takes over, showing you things that only the imagination can create (but what if it's true…)
Bodies, charred to the deepest black. So much blood, it's like a red pool where only the dead drown. Fire so thick, it's all you see. The screams so loud, you wonder if you'll hear anything again. And-in the recess of your mind, the blackest corner, the deepest hole-you find yourself enjoying whatever your mind comes up with.
(could that be me)
You beg it never shall be you.
Years later, after the Empire has been defeated, you wonder if the Jedi are rejoicing.
(they should be)
You hope that Kenobi's' death was quick and painless, and that he's enjoying wherever it is that Jedi go. You look up at the sky. The stars aren't as bright. (they never were as bright as that day) Still, you wonder why.
And wonder if that could be you.
He creeps ohsoqueitly to find that he has already been beaten by the one man who never wanted—or needed—to kill this man. And Maul tries to do something, but Kenobi stops him, brandishing his lightsaber.
"I need your help."
And Maul sees the irony of the situation so clearly, he wonders—
Maul doesn't answer, and sidesteps past this fool—for that's what he is—to check the body. "How did you kill him? I thought you didn't want to."
Kenobi turn around, his lightsaber still out. (whyohwhy is that thing still out?) A snarl is locked on his teeth. "He never saw me coming."
And Maul finally decides to come back to the original question that was placed on the table. "Why do need help?"
The ohsoblue eyes stare at him—antagonizing, just like last time—and he shrugs. "I don't know, Maul."
Maul wonders, again—
"What are we going to do?"
Where did the innocence come from? Maul turns, gesturing at that—thing. "Turn it off." Kenobi does as he asked.
Maul hold out his hand for the saber. Kenobi hesitates, but hands it over, still starring. Maul takes the saber off of the body, and holds both lightsaber before. (now. now is the time to choose.) And Maul feels only a tinytiny bit of regret, leaving the choice up to Kenobi.
Kenobi stares down the things in his hands, as if waiting for the things to jump up, and start talking. Kenobi raises his hand, and grasps the end of the saber.
"I need your help."
Maul lets the other lightsaber fall to the ground—clanking ohsoloud, he wonders if it is the only thing that's making noise. He brandishes his own lightsaber, the red glow filling the room.
Another red glow fills the room, so like the other. Maul grins, the first real grin in so long.
"Well, we better get started. We have to kill the Master."
Both glows go out, and they run ohsoquietly into the night.
A.N. Incase you didn't notice, numer 5 is a playoff of number one, which was totally spur-of-the-moment. So what'd you think?