Chapter Text
Chapter 1
Capture.
Screams.
A rush of panic through the distant crowd, followed by more screams.
“Father.” You spoke barely auditable just under your breath, your mind was working on overtime while your legs failed to move. Every counted standard second held a heavy weight in the delay of your body.
Run! Fucking Run! You mentally screamed at your body as you started to clumsily sprint towards the direction of the frighten hoard. Their bodies were all pressed tightly together to almost form a wall of flesh, circling the center of the merchant’s square.
You pushed and shoved your way through the sweaty bare arms, squeezing between mothers and children, ripping the frayed edges of your tunic on their various zippers, bags, or accessories. The grey curved edges of an unknown ship was the first thing you were able to see over the heads of the group as you made your way closer to the opening. The on-lookers were now gasping with shock at each new development you were still not privy to. The gurgle choking sounds of death could be heard just on the other side of a few more rows of people, the faint muffled pleas could be heard but not loud enough to comprehend.
You finally broke past the final barrier, your eyes wide as you took in the scene before you, your heart dropping like a fallen star to your stomach. A man shrouded in black fabric that bloomed with each movement swung a red double-bladed light saber and took off your father’s head in one clean swoop. You fell to your knees as your father’s sun worn aged face rolled just a standard meter from your reach. You wailed a sound you never made before; it may have been the word ‘no’ it may not have been any word at all. Whatever it was, it was the sound of pure and total devastation.
It had always been your father and you for as long as you could remember. Your mother passed away at an early age, you barely have any memories of her and aren’t even sure you would know her face if it wasn’t for the display of holos your father placed around your home. Leaving just you and your father, a small family of two, simple farmers that made just enough to get buy each harvest season.
The tears burned and blurred your vision to the point where you didn’t even notice the dark figure moving to tower over you. That is not until his shadow blocked out the sun, casting a darkness that was just as unwelcome as it was terrifying, you worked to blink away just enough to focus on the golden eyes looking down upon you. You didn’t speak, hell you could barely catch your breath, as you pressed your lips together and met his gaze with a face of utter pain.
“Were you his daughter?” The voice hissed with articulation in a deep whisper.
You nodded your head, “yes” you whimper your reply, tears striped down your cheeks and chest, your knees feeling every sharp prick of the gravel under your weight. Then gently closing your eyes, you dropped your head back and slightly arched your spine, allowing unrestricted access to your neck. This is it. This has to be it. The moment where you die.
Bracing yourself for the white heat of the saber at your throat, your brain lags as a completely different sensation comes forward than what you were expecting. First the sharp sting from every root of your hair at the crown of your head, followed by the tug of tension at your neck, then the scraping feeling down your shins as your being pulled forward. Instinctually your hands raise up and wrap around the leather glove that is tangled in your hair, your feet work to try and catch your footing while you try to relieve some pressure off of the nape of your neck.
Fuck what is happening? Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Your eyes snap open and you come to realize that he is about to drag you up into the mouth of his ship. The crowd appeared to have doubled in size, not a single individual coming forward to save you, all just morbidly watching the macabre scenario playout like a live action snuff-film.
“NO! NO! NO!” You scream as you try to break free and resist proceeding up the ramp. Your hands flailing, slapping and punching at his forearm, then it happens! He lost just a fraction of his hold, but that’s all you need in order to slip away. Falling backwards flat on your ass for less than a standard second before scrambling up to your feet and taking off in the opposite direction. The air burns your throat like a raw fire with each heavy breath, your ankles feel as if they are about to shatter under each weighted footstep, your heart pounds with a loud desperate thump that can be felt throughout your whole body.
You only manage to put a few meters of distance between you and him when you felt your body frozen by the force. Stopping you completely, a numbness washed over your lips before spreading to the rest of your face as your oxygen was cut off, you clawed at your neck, but nothing was there to cling to. Your entire body was raised off the ground, spinning slowly, you watched your predator come into view. A gust of wind whirling through the merchant’s square like a tornado, blowing his hood and cloak backward, your eyes may have felt like they were ready to pop out of their sockets, but that didn’t prevent you from looking down upon him. His skin radiated a crimson red hue, heavy black tribal tattoos lined and contrasted his natural skin tone, multiple spikes ran along the top of his head, and those damn sith-golden eyes were pinned on you with an indescribable hatred that you’ve never seen before.
Then you felt your body flung into the mouth of his ship before everything went completely black.
***
Your fucking head. Fuck before you could even open your eyes, your fucking head was pounding, every vein in your skull was pulsating. You groaned as you slightly sat up, holding onto your temples trying to breakup whatever tension you were feeling. Once you finally found your center, you took the moment to open your eyes, allowing yourself a fraction of peace to fully understand your surroundings.
You were in a grey cell sitting on a metal cot that was attached to the wall, the light was dim and faintly flickered. Scanning the room, you noticed a folded itchy grey wool blanket in the corner with a flat pillow on top. Directly in front of you was the subtle glow of the infrared security door, a small metal tray of food and a metal cup was placed at the entrance. The whole space couldn’t be larger than about 6ft by 6ft, this must be the brig you mused to yourself, the gentle hum in the distance led you to assume you must be traveling through hyperspace.
You curled into yourself, pulling your knees to your chest, and starting to cry, you didn’t want to but you couldn’t prevent it. The screams of the towns people mixed with the image of your father’s head flooded back to you like a tidal wave. You’ve never left your district before let alone the entire planet, and now you’re traveling through space as a prisoner. This can’t be your reality, this has to be a fucking nightmare, you’re a good person, you don’t deserve this. You thought between your sniffles.
The hush of the door unlocking alerted you to his presence, you quickly wiped your face discretely before looking up through your brow at your captor in the door frame. “You’re awake.” His words rang loud in the small confines of your given room, his eyes looking your body over before flicking down to the untouched tray of food. “You need to eat.”
“I’m not eating that shit.” You spit your words defiantly at him.
“Then starve.” He was indifferent to your anger, crossing his arms as if he was bored before closing your door and walking out of view.
You didn’t see him again for the remainder of the night, eventually opting to reach for the blanket and pillow in a sad attempt to make the cot even the smallest amount more comfortable. You reframed from even touching the tray, you still didn’t know why you were taken as a prisoner and you’re not sure what the end game is.
***
You’re not sure if you slept at all, it doesn’t feel like you did, but it feels like more time has past than expected. The hush sound of the door opening followed by two heavy footsteps, the slight ring of the tray being picked up. You roll over on your side and stare him down through your brows once more. He looks almost disappointed while cocking his head to the side while he studies you.
“Follow me. I’ll take you to the refresher.” His words leave no room for negotiation as he turned and starts to walk past the threshold of the door frame. You quickly debate if you should even listen, as much as you wanted to continue your protest, you simply couldn’t ignore the pain of your overly full bladder any longer.
You rise and start to trace his footsteps as you moved past the door, noticing for the first time that you were still in the same clothes, only now your scraped knees had been wrapped with baca patches. You crossed your arms as you walked through the short channel of the ship, finding what appeared to be the door to his own sleeping chamber not too far from your cell, the small refresher just on the other side. He dropped the tray off at a small kitchenette table before directing you towards the correct entrance.
He hit the button to activate to door, allowing you enough room to pass but then he stood with his back leaning against the frame. His eyes downcast towards his boots as his legs stretched across the length of the opening. He didn’t say anything more, just silently waiting.
“Can I have some privacy? I’m just going to use the refresher.” Your voice was rough and dry to the point where it hurt to speak.
“Why didn’t you eat the meal I prepared for you?” His face was emotionless, and his voice was monotone, however there was something more that you could read in the direct eye contact he held.
“Because, I don’t trust you!” You said with an obvious snarl and pinched brows.
“That is the very same answer to your question.” He said with a slow blink before looking back at his boot that is now hiked up higher on the door jam.
The ability to hold your bladder anymore only grew weaker being this close to a toilet. Instead of continuing this argument you had to pull down your pants and quickly sit down, the cold rim of the seat sending a quick shiver up your spine before the heat of the release relaxed you. You kept your eyes on his form, he never attempted to look in your direction, remaining like a stone. You swiftly wiped, flushed, and were in the process of washing your hands when you caught in the reflection of the mirror, a full shower behind you. Pausing as your eyes drifted while you looked over the faucet and nobs, the desire to shower was never stronger than it was in this moment.
“Do you wish to use the shower as well?” Your eyes whipped back to catch his. He was shifting his eyes between you and the single stand-up shower, lastly looking back to you, allowing his eyes to move up and down over your body. The entirety of the glance took less than a few standard seconds.
Your heartbeat raged in your ears at the implication. “Not with you watching.” You couldn’t hide the pissed off tone in your voice even if you tried as you strode past him with weighted stomps back towards your small cell.
Flipping your hair off your shoulders you turned the corner and sat back down on your cot, arms crossed, and a loathing expression that found him as he trailed behind you.
“Why am I here? I have nothing of value! I’m no one! Just a farmer’s daughter!” You spoke through your teeth as you sat back further into your unmade bed.
He opened his mouth to say something, before closing it and re-working his jaw, clearly the truth was something that was going to die on his tongue. “Are you going to fight with me over everything?” His eyes narrowed into slits.
You went to retaliate, but then you suddenly decided to allow this truth to die on your tongue as well. Matching the way he worked his jaw and rolled your eyes to land unfocused on one of the corners of the room. You knew the answer was yes, but it felt almost childish to speak it out loud. With that he didn’t say anything more, just simply turning around, reactivating the security door and you were left alone again.
It must have been a few hours before he returned, setting another tray down just past the threshold of the door. “If you’re not going to eat, then you could at least drink some water. Your species dies quickly from dehydration, don’t they?” He didn’t look at you, but there was a strange, sweet twang in his voice, maybe he always sounded like that, and you never noticed before.
He was gone before you even finished your thought. You ran your tongue over your lips, they were cracked and chapped. The idea of water alone was something you were beyond craving. You slowly crept off your bed and crawled your way over to the tray, trying to peer around the corner to see if he was lingering nearby, he wasn’t. You picked up the metal cup, it looked like water, pressing the rim just above your upper lip, it didn’t smell. Then perching your lips tightly to the edge, you allowed the smallest drop to pass your lips. Maker have mercy! Even that small drop spread across your tongue and coated your mouth in much needed hydration.
You lost all control, throwing the cup back and downing the entirety of water in almost one large gulp. Catching what little droplets escaped with your thumb, wiping your chin clean. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. You hoped that wasn’t poison, then looking down at the food that lay out on your tray. It was some kind of brown unseasoned meat, a small piece of bread, and some kind of mushy side you couldn’t identify. “Get a fucking grip.” You scolded yourself as you crawled back into bed. Laying there you decided to try and sleep again, you’re not particularly tired, there just isn’t anything else to do.
***
It’s been five days. Or at least you think it has. Every morning, he fetches you and walks you to the refresher, you’re still wearing the same clothes you arrived in, but now you don’t even bother looking over at the shower. That feels more like an untouchable fantasy these days then a basic human right. Every day he brings just one meal, you still haven’t eaten yet, although you now fully indulge in the water that you’re fairly confident isn’t tainted. Since you are drinking, he started to leave behind a full pitcher of water daily.
Today was no different. He dropped off the food tray and you crawled to your typical place on the floor. Your stomach grumbled as you looked over what he had prepared, it was some type of soup - well mainly just a cloudy broth, a few slices of toasted bread on the side, and what appeared to be some kind of dried out chocolate dessert. Your feeble fingers reaching forward and rolled one of the larger breadcrumbs between the pads of your index finger and thumb. Fuck you want to eat so fucking badly. You’ve never felt hunger like this before.
“Why don’t you eat?” His voice startled you, instinctually you strengthened your back and balled your hands into fists, dropping the desired breadcrumb. Your head shot up and found him squatting in front of you on the other side of the glowing barrier, his arms resting on the tops of his knees as he watched you and gaged your response.
You bit down on your bottom lip, dropping your arms to your sides and looked away. You were getting good at that, looking away and avoiding his questions. A small part of you thought that your father would be proud, seeing how father always preferred a quiet woman to a loud one. Thinking over some of the comments father would make in regards of how to be a proper lady, his life lessons or advice would always creep up into your mind at the most inconvenient times. You shook your head clear, knowing your mind would eventually lead back to your fathers death, and it wasn’t the time for crying. Not in front of him. No. You vowed you would never cry in front of him.
Instead, you returned your eyes to those of your predators, creating a list of possible ways to die, wondering why he hasn’t killed you yet. Catching the slight bland scent of the soup, you couldn’t stop your stomach from growling, your nostrils from flaring, or your pupils from dilating. Taking back control over what parts of your body that you could, you gently pushed the tray away from you just a few fractions of an inch, just to make a point. What point are you trying to make? That you didn’t fully know.
“It’s not poisoned. I know that’s what you’re thinking. If I was going to kill you, I would have done so already. Only cowards hide behind poison.” He reasoned while never taking his eyes off yours until you broke his gaze. You supposed that was true, however you were also so depleted that your mind was stuck in a dense fog and didn’t trust your own judgments at this point.
Looking down to pick a loose piece of skin off your thumb, you don’t have the energy to even fight him anymore. “If you can start to trust me. I can start to trust you.” He added and his words held a heavy weight within them, as if he also didn’t have the energy to fight you any longer either.
There was also that small promise laced in that last sentence. ‘I can start to trust you.’
With that you picked up the bread, cracking it in half with a small crunch, bringing the torn edge to your mouth and taking a minuscule bite. Holy shit even this plain, dry, unseasoned, white piece of bread tasted unbelievable. Trying to restrain yourself as much as possible in his presence, you torn another piece – only this time you dunked it into the broth, it didn’t add much to the flavor but made the bread easier to eat. He stayed and watched as you finished almost half of the food before he felt satisfied and stood up with his back tall.
“That’s a good girl.” He murmured as he walked out of sight.
You finished off the soup and scarfed down the chocolate once you were positive he wasn’t coming back. Rolling back into your bed, there was an odd happiness about you. You questioned if this could even be happiness, it can’t be. However, there was a lighter feeling now that you had a full stomach, no longer struggling to find a comfortable position on your cot, you could already tell this was going to be the first good sleep you had since your arrival.
***
When you awoke, you found your door was left open and your empty tray had been removed. You were unsure what to do, you’ve never had your door left open before. Your mind flashed different images behind your eyes, of you rushing him, finding a weapon, of escaping. Although, there was also an equal part of you that thought of the consequences if you failed. Would you be punished? Or would you just be killed? Would it be worth it? Could you figure out how to land this ship? Could you figure out how to find your way back home?
There was now an unusual sense of security in being in this cell. As your thoughts raced with conflicting answers and you played out different scenarios you didn’t even notice he darkened your doorway. “Can I trust you?” His voice sliced through the air and your mind, your gaze followed the sound. He was dressed slightly different then usual, just a wrapped black shirt that was pulled tight at his midriff. His arms were exposed, which was something you haven’t seen from him before. The black tattoos travel in symmetrical patterns down his arms, accentuating the lean muscles that flexed as he moved slightly.
Your eyes unabashed over his figure while you felt a primal heat blush your lower lips. You bit at your bottom lip and used the slight pain to pull you back into reality as you tried to push whatever attractive features you were discovering out of your mind. He’s a fucking monster, a fucking murderer, and a fucking sith you reminded yourself. Opting to not say anything at all, you just simply stood to follow him towards the refresher, although your cell was left open, you still felt trapped behind a locked door.
You followed him the same as you had for the past week, through the small confines of his ship to the refresher, only this time something felt different. “If you promise to behave, I will trust you.” He said, his voice rumbled above a whisper as he pulled a pile of black fabric from a closet you never noticed before and handed it to you.
Your eyes were wide as you stared down at the small bundle in your hands before looking back up to his face, his expression was indifferent while his eyes held a small yellow fire. Then finally looking down the length of the narrow refresher, you now fully comprehended what this moment was.
Fuck! Wait? Why aren’t your legs working? Take a fucking step forward. Your heartbeat with a nervous energy and there was a slight rattling tension in your joints, the corner of your vision blurred. It’s a fucking step forward. One fucking step.
This moment grew into something monumental for absolutely no reason at all, your throat bob with a heavy swallow as your foot landed on the opposite side of the threshold. HUSH the door hiss behind you as it shut, startling a slight jump to the balls of your feet. Alone. You’re alone. You are fucking alone.
You first walked the length of the room, it wasn’t larger then 5 full steps, stopping to set the bundle of black fabric on the small vanity countertop. It was quiet, your fingers slide along the cold dura-steel edge, you could barely hear the constant hum of hyperspace. You looked at your reflection. Maker have mercy, how haven’t you noticed? Your skin was pale, your lips were washed out, a faint pink tinted your waterline, and your hair was matted down into uncared-for knots.
Your eyes then caught the reflection of the shower head behind you, your heart rate picked up once more, how something so trivial transformed into something unattainable. You turned to fully investigate the spout and knobs, twisting and turning, pulling and fidgeting, until ultimately accepting defeat. The water just wasn’t working. You didn’t know how to operate a fucking shower on this fucking ship, barely a dribble was running from the tap. Your heart dropped, tears started to form, curling your arms around your chest.
Maybe it’s this fucking place. Maybe it’s that you’ve always been a natural when figuring out basic mechanics and not having an immediate answer makes you feel inferior. Maybe it’s the fact you’ve only eaten once in 5 days. Maybe it’s because you’re lightyears away from everything you ever known. Maybe it’s because your father just died. Maybe it’s all of it.
Whatever the reason was, it didn’t matter. In this moment you felt pathetic and frankly stupid. There was only one solution, roughly wiping your eyes for the thousandth time this week and putting your emotionless mask back on.
“Excuse me?” Your voice was small and innocent, as you stepped out to find him with his back turned to you, standing in the quaint kitchen area. “I don’t know how to work it.” You added when you notice him peak over his shoulder and you casted your gaze down so he couldn’t see the tears threatening to stripe your cheeks.
He turns and you can feel his eyes evaluating you, although you still haven’t looked back. “Hmm” you hear him mutter and you’re not sure if he even actually said anything at all, instead you hear the gentle ring of him placing a cup down at the two-seater kitchen table and pass you while he makes his way through the narrow quarters. You look back for just a moment when you smell the fresh pot of caf he made, and his abandoned cup is still steaming.
Following behind him into the cramped space of the refresher he articulately explains the generic system to you and points out the crucial lever you missed in order to activate the water. “It is quite simple once you learn the basics, adjust the temperature as desired.” His comment is quick as the shower head kicks up to full pressure, slipping past you with a lazy smirk that was meant to feel comforting but appears more menacing on his hard features.
When the door is shut once more you begin to undress. Pealing the days old clothes off like a second layer of skin, each garment feels heavier then it should with an odor that can only be described as human. The clothes lay in piles around your feet, your eyes looking down your naked form, your thinner but undamaged. It’s strange to have that thought, you pounder in almost a meditated like state while the running water sings behind you, filling the room with steam and fogging the mirror. It’s strange to think of yourself as something that needs to be check for damages. However, that is what you’re doing, looking for bruises, scrapes, cuts, anything. But there’s nothing, your unharmed, unblemished, undamaged, you’re fine. Fine? That can’t be the correct word for what is happening.
You step into the shower, the pressure was initially too much, too hot, too extreme, but you forced yourself to stand under the running water anyways. Looking down towards your feet, watching the water change from a murky shade of filth to clear and clean as it continued to run down the drain. Then the water didn’t seem so intense, it became tolerable at first, then enjoyable. Relishing in the way the small streams would pelt against your lips, as the hot water collected and coated your skin. You went to run your fingers through your overly knotted hair, getting tangled rapidly at each new section. There was no lavish soaps, no sweet-smelling shampoos, no detangling conditioners, just a sad and used bar of soap that sat lonely on a small shelf’s edge.
Thinking over your captor, you supposed you couldn’t assume anything different from him. Washing over yourself the best you could, unsure if you would get another shower anytime soon, there was an unexpected sorrow as you reached for his soap. You wouldn’t call yourself privileged by any means and you never really had access to any kind of luxury. You can’t explain it, but something about rubbing his soap over your palms felt like a new kind of low.
The generic body wash was overall scent-less and barely created any suds, you now wanted to wash it off and finish this shower as fast as possible. After you stepped out and patted dry with the towel, your skin was so dried out that it reminded you of hay that had been bake by the summers sun. Looking through the fabrics he shoved into your hands for the first time, unraveling the balled-up bundles of black, you discovered it was a pair of light weight pants and a weather appropriate long sleeve shirt. These were his clothes.
The pants sat low on your hips and sagged a little lower with each step you took, and the sleeves of the shirt hung passed your fingertips. You looked like a child playing dress up in your parents’ closet. With one final look in the mirror, you took a deep breath, and took a step past the threshold of the refresher only to find him placing two plates of unrecognizable food down in front of each seat.
You scanned the room quickly to ensure that it was just you two, that this plate of food that wisped with heat was in fact for you and not some unknown passenger. You bit at the inside of your cheek while the face of uncertainty was the only words spoken between you both. When his eyes found you, he didn’t speak, instead gestured to the seat he chosen for you before turning and grabbing a second mug of caf.
You both sat in silence while the sound of him eating filled the air mixed with you just moving the small piles around with your fork. You weren’t hungry. Well, actually that wasn’t true, you were still fucking starving, your body grumbled in protest, however you were trapped in your over thinking spiral.
“My clothes.” You broke the silence, and your voice cracked from lack of use. Taking a second to clear your throat and your mind. “What should I-“
“Throw them in the incinerator.” He abruptly cut you off before taking another large gulp of his caf. “We will be planetside soon. We can get you new clothes and whatever else you need.”
“Whatever else I need? You mean like shampoo?” You questioned as you took your first bite, the food was grossly bland with a grainy texture. You understood at that moment that this was a meal for survival and not for pleasure.
He finished off his last bite and sucked his tongue over his left canine, his eyes pinned on you, with such a slight pull at the corners of his lips you’re not sure if you even saw it. “Correct, and whatever else you will need to make your stay more comfortable here.”
“I... I-I don’t have any credits.” You said while returning to just push your food around aimlessly.
“I am aware.” He said while his grin grew into something unmistakable but still unenthusiastic.
Your eyes stared blankly downward at your plate allowing another silent moment to pass between you both. “How long am I going to be here?”
“Until you’re no longer required.”
“Required? Required for what?”
“I haven’t decided yet.”
You didn’t like the way that sounded. “Am I a slave?”
He didn’t respond, instead just pinched his lips together as if trying to decipher the correct response. You instantly came to the conclusion of one of two things. Either the answer is ‘yes’ then you would be expected to serve him as your master, it would be easy, just do as he says. You wouldn’t be happy, but it would be easy enough. Or the answer is ‘no’. If you are not his slave, a shiver ran down your spine at the implication of what else you would be required for.
“What should I call you?” This question seemed not only fair but would hopefully give insight to the answer to the previous question.
“Darth Maul.”