Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

When Sidious’ ship first enters the Coruscant atmosphere, Maul finds himself glued to the small window in the cargo bay, mouth hanging open. Buildings cover every inch of the planet’s surface, the skylanes winding through the cityscape like molten rivers of gold. It couldn’t be more different from the empty, ruined expanses of Dathormir. For a moment, Maul wonders if Sidious lives in one of the twinkling buildings, and if yes, whether Maul will be staying with him. Mother Talzin didn’t tell him much before handing him over to Sidious, but he knows the Sith Lord is also an important person in the senate, so he can probably afford to live in a fancy apartment. But as the ship descends down past the first level of the city, and then past the second level, and the third, Maul pushes away his stupid hopes. Sidious has made it very clear that Maul will be a secret, and of course the crumbling buildings of the lower levels are a more likely hiding place for an apprentice.

But when Sidious finally lands the ship, it’s not in one of the lower level slums, but at the base of a huge structure that towers over them and disappears up into the cityscape above. So when Sidious pushes Maul into a small opening at the base of this structure, Maul can’t help the question that falls out of his mouth. “Where are we going?”

Sidious gives him a poisonous look, and answers irritably, “This building, you uncultured redskin, is the Galactic Senate, and we are entering a complex of tunnels that lies underneath it. After we reach the center, I will seal this path, and you will never leave these tunnels without my permission. Understood?” Maul can only nod mutely. “Good. Now be quiet.”

The tunnels are dark and damp, with lichen peeling off the walls and piles of old technology covering the muddy floors. As they trudge deeper in, Maul sees huge droids lying dead and gutted in empty rooms, broken speeders and empty data backs heaped around them. It smells strange, the muggy smell of mould combining with the reek of rust and spilled droid lubricant, and Maul has to work hard not to scrunch his nose in disgust.

Finally, they reach a larger room that is mostly clear of junk, if still very dirty. It has a door to a turbolift on one side, the shining metal of the lift’s tube the only clean thing in the whole room. Stopping in the middle of the room and turning to glare at Maul, Sidious explains that this will be Maul’s training room, and that Sidious will use the turbolift to visit him once every day for his training session. For the rest of the time, Maul is supposed to practice the lightsaber forms Sidious teaches him and concentrate on Sith meditations.

“And do not even think of slacking off, apprentice,” Sidious tells him. “The Nightsister was adamant that you are talented, but I have yet to see anything worthwhile in you. Do not make me regret my choice — if you spend your time idly, I will know, and you will not like the consequences.”

“Yes, master,” Maul answers, trying to use the subservient tone of voice that seems to annoy Sidious least. He listens quietly while Sidious explains that food will be delivered to Maul through the turbolift, but that the lift is coded to Sidious’ biosignature and that if Maul tries to use it the punishment will be severe. All Maul can do is nod, and try not to show any of his dismay or fear.

When Sidious finally leaves, Maul walks around the tunnels until he finds a broken speeder with relatively intact seats. He’s used to sleeping on hard surfaces, so he finds the soft, rotting cushions relatively comfortable, but he still can’t get to sleep — it’s all just too much and too sudden. Maul can’t even decide what he thinks about being Sidious’ apprentice. He’s angry at Mother Talzin for giving him away, yes, but it’s not like his life on Dathomir was that good, not as the only male in a lair of Nightsisters. And training with Sidious will give him a chance at power, and a way to control his Force abilities. The only problems are the smell in these tunnels, and the hungry way Sidious’ eyes follow Maul, and the ache in his chest that he has a hard time ignoring.

It takes Maul a long time to fall asleep.

For the first few months in the tunnels, Maul’s days blend into one another, all similarly empty and monotonous. If it wasn’t for Sidious’ regular visits and the bland ration bars that are delivered through the turbolift twice a day, Maul wouldn’t even be able to tell when one day ends and another begins.

Maul likes learning and practicing lightsaber forms, and he doesn’t mind exploring all the broken tech in the tunnels, but everything else is horrible. First, because Sidious believes in motivation through punishment, the training is invariably humiliating and painful. Then the tunnels are dark and damp, and Maul misses the red skies of Dathomir. But the worst thing is the meditation he’s forced to do — Maul finds he can’t concentrate on his emotions at all, much less “purify his anger”. Every time he sits down to meditate his mind starts wandering, and no matter how hard he tries, he always ends up thinking about his life back on Dathomir, or wondering if today’s rations would somehow be better than yesterday’s. And he can’t hide his failure from Sidious, because his master only has to prod Maul’s thoughts with his oppressive Force presence to know his mind is as scattered as it ever was.

So after a few months, Maul decides to change up his schedule. Since there’s no surveillance in the tunnels Sidious can’t actually check if Maul trains all day, and it doesn’t seem to matter if Maul meditates or not — he still leaves every training session bloody and beaten. So why not exchange some of his meditation time for something better? Exploring the tunnels is fine, but Maul needs a project, a goal, a hobby — anything to keep the boredom from driving him crazy. He can already feel his emotions becoming erratic, and his chest clenches with panic every time he considers spending years down here like this.

And after weeks of searching, salvation comes in the form of an old datapad, hidden underneath a broken droid chassis and somehow still in one piece. It doesn’t work right away, of course, but Maul has always liked fixing things, and the tunnels are a treasure trove of spare parts. He finds some unused energy cells in an old vidcam, breaks a droid apart to get a light cable, and collects as many working data chips as he can from rotten speeder navicomputers. The tools are even easier to get — there’s so many maintenance droid parts in the tunnels that he has his pick from vibrosaws, sonic cutters and screwdrivers. It takes a bit of trial and error and an external power coupling, but four months after he first stepped into the Senate tunnels, Maul has a functioning datapad.

The moment the pad connects to the Senate network feels magical, as if Maul now holds a door to the whole galaxy between his hands. He skips all of his training for the next few days, and instead just reads and watches everything he can get his hands on, happily ignoring the extra wounds this neglect earns him in training. The Senate network has a lot of restrictions, so he can’t access news reports or try slicing into other networks, but it has holodramas and books, and most importantly, games.

Maul tries Dejarik first, and then holo-Borgleball, and finds both boring. Combat simulators are much more exciting, but they remind him of his training, and that's not what he needs. For a while, LifeSim proves an adequate distraction, but Maul just isn't any good at it. Dathomir didn't prepare him for social interactions or household chores, and the long months in the tunnels haven't helped.

Still, even though none of the games are perfect, Maul keeps trying, because even the worst games give him something that dramas and books don’t — immersion. When he plays games, the world around him drops away, and he forgets about the damp and the mould and Sidious’ cruel words. Most of the games he tries just replace all of that with annoyance and frustration, but Maul keeps searching, looking for a feeling he can’t describe.

He finds that feeling in TerraFarm.

When Maul clicks on TerraFarm’s information page, his screen fills with shining green text.

Maul is immediately intrigued by the game. Even though Dathomir isn’t really a good planet for farming, some of Maul’s best memories are of helping the Nightbrothers raise their meager crops on his rare visits to their village. There’s just something about the process of farming that appeals to him — maybe it’s the combination of soothing repetitive tasks with the simple satisfaction of helping something grow, or maybe it's that farming feels like the opposite of all he's been brought up to do.

Of course, virtual farming is a bit different from the real-world version, but when Maul downloads TerraFarm he finds that he doesn’t mind the confined nature of the game. He’s immediately excited by all the different options in the store, and finds it easy to choose crops and animals and decide where to place them on the planet. Even more than that, he finds that he enjoys doing additional research on the holonet — he spends hours reading about all the different species, learning how they interact and what conditions they need to thrive. With all the time he’s investing and the knowledge he gains his farm grows by leaps and bounds, and after a few short weeks he already has enough credits to buy a new planet if he wants to. He doesn’t do that, of course — it makes a lot more sense to reinvest those credits in the farm — but he does sit there for a moment, basking in an unfamiliar sense of pride. TerraFarm fills a space in his life that he didn’t even realize was empty, and every time he sits down to play it feels like he can breathe a little more easily, the bright warmth in his chest easing away some of the darkness that Sidious' lessons leave in his thoughts.

Maul is busy building shelters for his ghoats when he gets his first direct TerraFarm message.

Maul stares at the message. He's been avoiding the other players so far, content to focus on his own star system and weary of revealing too much. Sidious would probably kill him if he found him playing this game, and if Maul has learnt one thing from Mother Talzin’s abandonment, it's that he can trust no-one. But he really needs more credits to deal with a worsening beetle infestation, and selling produce to a fellow player will get him more than if he uses the central market. And — he can also feel the Force humming around him, gently urging him to answer.

Maul types out the message and switches back to his farm, left hand coming up to tug on his horns. He also has burra fish in his oceans, but since they're from Dathomir he didn't mention them, just in case OB1farm is a spy.

His neighbour replies two minutes later.

Maul frowns. He's not used to chatting with people, but he really wants that insecticide.

Maul bites his lips, and then types another message, giving OB1farm an inflated price tag for the manure and seeds. If the other player agrees then he’s either naive or a spy, and Maul wants to test him.

Hmm. Maybe OB1farm really is just a friendly regular player.

They spend the next half hour haggling over the price — OB1farm is unfailingly polite, but he drives a hard bargain. Still, Maul is the more experienced player, and he ends up selling most of his manure for a very good price. It's strange — the interaction is nothing special, and yet it soothes some of Maul's ever-present worry. Maybe it's that he hasn't spoken to anyone but Sidious for months, or maybe it's just the simplicity of the negotiation. He feels like he's good at it, in a way he isn't good at the dark-side skills Sidious tries to hammer into him every day. It's likely Maul will never speak to OB1farm again, but he doesn't regret their conversation.

OB1farm messages Maul again the next day, and the day after that, and every day that week. He always has some question about his farm, about the options in the store or about the best irrigation method. Maul answers, and tells himself it's because OB1farm is a good contact for trade, or at least he will be once his farm develops. It has nothing to do with the thrill that shivers up his horns every time he sees the message notification at the top of his screen.

He does try to keep his answers short, though. OB1farm often drops small personal details into the conversation, talking about his meals or his friends or the planets he’s been to, and he seems to expect Maul to open up in turn. Maul can't deny that it's tempting to share — he feels like he's bursting with facts and stories. There’s just no-one to talk to. At least on Dathomir there were some other Nightbrothers that listened to him, even if he didn't spend much time in the village.

In truth, Maul knows that there's little chance OB1farm is a spy. Maul can't tell anyone he's a Sith apprentice, of course, and Sidious' existence is top-secret. But complaining about the lice that got into his mattress last week or the blandness of Coruscant food is unlikely to reveal his identity.

But — Maul is scared. He's scared of Sidious and his hungry eyes and cruel laugh. He's scared of Mother Talzin with her controlling magic and too-sweet smirk. He's even scared of the Jedi, the all-powerful enemies he's being trained to fight. He's angry at them, yes — for not coming for him, for leaving him to Sidious. But no matter how much time he spends meditating, he just can't get his anger to be stronger than his fear. So Maul tries to ignore OB1farm's questions, and keeps his messages practical.

He lasts three weeks.

Maul stares at the screen. The other player has to be joking, right?

Maul flinches back from his datapad. Why did he send that? He looks around the tunnel, stomach clenching in fear. There are no alarms blaring, no furious Sidious appearing from around the corner to cripple him with lightning. Maul tries to calm down, tries to concentrate on his breaths. Lots of teachers call their students Nerf herders.

Maul knows OB is not going to let this go. Maul could just exit the chat and cut off the connection, but maybe — maybe he could just lie? Undercover work is an important part of Sith training, so really, it's just practice, right? He can make up a persona, and then it won't matter if he talks about the lice, or complains about the stale air of the tunnel, because those details will be part of a larger lie. Really, it might be less suspicious if he talks about himself.

Maul laughs out loud, and then freezes, uncomfortable with how the wild sound reverberates around the tunnel. He can't remember the last time he laughed.

They talk for another hour, Maul explaining the mechanics of starships and OB exclaiming over his own ignorance. Maul only ends the conversation when he notices how late it's gotten, and for the first time he answers OB's well-wishes with his own curt "good night".

After that, Maul and OB1farm talk more and more. The other player is usually only available during Maul's evenings, so Maul still has plenty of time to both train and feed his farming addiction during the day. OB, on the other hand, spends most of his TerraFarm time talking with Maul, and makes slow progress on his Nerf herd. But when Maul asks him whether they should talk less, OB insists that he doesn't care how long it takes his farm to come together, and that he’s happy to spend his time talking with Maul.

This reassurance makes warmth bloom in Maul's chest, which he does his best to ignore.

Maul doesn't really ask the other player any questions, but OB still shares stories about himself. Maul learns that OB is human, and because he's some sort of political apprentice, he's always travelling to different planets with his master and meeting all sorts of people. He also has an academy as his home base, where he shares quarters with his teacher and spends a lot of time with a group of friends. From the hyperspace routes OB mentions Maul suspects this academy is on Coruscant, but Maul doesn't know the city well enough to guess which one it is.

In truth, OB's hectic social life sounds like hell to Maul. Even when he was surrounded by others on Dathomir Maul always needed a lot of time to himself, and he doesn't mind the solitude of the tunnels, not now that he has OB. He is envious of OB's freedom to travel, though. He misses the sight of stars in the sky and the tingle of wind on his horns. Sometimes when OB talks about his travels Maul gets a strange ache in his chest and has to excuse himself to "help a customer".

In turn, Maul shares more and more with OB. He keeps up his cover, of course — OB thinks that he's a mechanics apprentice on an outer ring planet who sleeps in the underground storage room of the shop. This detail about the sleeping is important, because most of Maul's stories revolve around the tunnels and the stuff he finds in them, and it makes sense for an underground room to have damp and mould. Posing as an apprentice also allows Maul to talk about Dathomir — he just talks about the "family back on my home planet." He doesn't mention the planet by name, of course, or that he's a Zabrak, but OB doesn't seem to mind. Apparently he’s been an apprentice since he was a child, and as he doesn’t have any memories of his parents he's always curious to hear about Maul's family.

Maul can't exactly tell OB that his mother is the head of a dark witch cult and that she killed his father after Maul was born, so he makes up stories. He doesn't try to make his childhood sound perfect, but he takes his best memories and stretches them out. One afternoon fishing with a Nightbrother becomes a regular tradition with his father. One young Nightsister who cleaned his sparring wounds turns into a protective and loving older sister. They're fantasies, but they make him feel better.

And Maul definitely needs something to make him feel better. As the months in the tunnel blend into years, Sidious becomes progressively crueller and less forgiving. He was never a kind teacher, but at the start he would at least give Maul a few weeks to perfect a new move. But Maul must be doing something wrong, because these days Sidious takes every opportunity to insult and torture him. Maul tries to practice more, but that doesn't really help — Sidious rarely complains about Maul's technique. Instead, Maul's problem is apparently with power, and emotion. But how is Maul supposed to fix his emotions? He's definitely angry, and fear isn't a problem when facing Sidious. He even manages hate sometimes. It's just hard to reach the Force that way, no matter how much time he spends meditating and strengthening his anger. Maul knows that on some level he is improving, but sometimes he feels like his apprenticeship is just an endless cycle of failure and punishment.

So, as the years pass and take away Maul's fear of OB being a spy, he starts to complain more about his "teacher". It's a bit ridiculous to pretend Sidious is a mechanic, but luckily complaints about insults and punishments can be kept pretty vague. Even when Maul accidentally slips and mentions electricity burns, he can just explain that his teacher likes to hook him up to a battery.

OB is scandalised by the burns, and in general is very supportive and kind whenever Maul complains about Sidious. Apparently his own teacher is not ideal, but OB always makes a point to say that his own issues are nowhere near as bad as Maul's. Maul still doesn't like the sound of OB's teacher — the other player might be a weak TerraFarm player, but he's obviously very smart and eloquent, and is probably a great diplomat. Still, however different their problems are, it does make things easier to complain to someone who understands.

TerraFarm makes a lot of things easier.

Still, sometimes Maul wonders if TerraFarm is holding him back from being a good apprentice. It's definitely not something Sidious would approve of — Sith Lords don't play farming hologames. And playing on his datapad or messaging OB does impact Maul's emotions, lightening the load on his chest and making him smile. Maul can imagine that in a world without TerraFarm he might have gone mad in these tunnels, and perhaps in that madness he would have found the hate that his Sith training missing.

Even knowing all of this, Maul never even considers giving up the game. That datapad holds everything good in Maul's life within its cobbled-together circuitry, after all. It's not like life with Sidious was ever something Maul chose, or even wanted, and TerraFarm makes it bearable — it feels good to succeed at something, and Maul always sleeps better after talking to OB. Honestly, to Maul daily Force lightning torture seems like a fair price to pay for having TerraFarm.

So in a way, Maul is quite content with his life. It's not perfect, but it's bearable, and he's never had high expectations. Maul can see his future stretching out in front of him in a similar fashion, full of stupid Sith training and exciting new farm modules.

If only OB would stop shaking up Maul's worldview.

The first time OB makes Maul reconsider his life goes something like this:

Maul can see OB is still typing, so he switches the screen back to his farm. The other player sometimes takes a while to send his messages, and until then Maul can get some work done on his irrigation.

Maul almost throws the tablet to the ground in annoyance. How dare OB ask that! Does he think Maul wants to be shut in these damp tunnels? Does he think Maul enjoys being tortured with lightning every day? Fuming, Maul types out a reply without stopping to think.

Maul snaps back to reality the moment he presses send. On no — he really shouldn't have sent that. Normal mothers don't give their children away to Sith Lords, right?

But OB is already typing something, so Maul just stares at the flickering pen symbol, his breaths coming short and fast. Why is it taking OB so long to answer? Is he disgusted now that he knows how pathetic Maul is? Has he guessed about the Sith thing? It doesn't even occur to Maul to worry about Sidious, because all he can think about is that OB is going to leave and never come back and he can't.

Maul is trying and failing to type out a new message when OB's reply finally arrives.

Maul almost laughs, the relief flowing through his body like golden steam. Slavery! OB thinks that Maul’s a slave!

Really, it’s the perfect cover. It explains the lack of wages, the locked quarters, the punishments, even his mother giving him away. Maul doesn’t have a slave chip, but since Sidious could find his Force presence anywhere, his escape options are pretty much the same. Really, the only difference is…

Maul racks his brain, trying to think of a difference between his apprenticeship and slavery. Sidious plans for Maul to eventually become a Sith himself, but even then he would be subservient to his master, no? Slaves often hold important positions in their master's business. Is the difference that Maul shares Sidious' goal and his hatred of the Jedi?

No. Maul hates the Jedi and would happily kill them, but he hates Sidious more, and he definitely doesn’t want to rule the galaxy. And none of this changes the fact that Maul is not here willingly, and would have escaped years ago if he could.

Shit. Maul is a slave.

Maul forgives OB, of course — if anything, he feels he should thank him, because for some reason it's easier to ignore Sidious' taunts and insults when Maul thinks of himself as his master's slave. It just a pity it doesn't make the lightning torture any less painful.

The slavery revelation also makes it easier to talk to OB, and in the following months Maul starts sharing a bit more about his pain and fear. He always cloaks his complaints in humour, and OB always laughs, but he also makes sure Maul knows that Sidious' level of punishment is not normal. It turns out OB has a strong sense of right and wrong, especially when it comes to children. He tells Maul about Melida/Daan and the Young, and about his own brief experience as a slave on Bandomeer. Maul is not surprised that being a diplomat is dangerous — anyone trying to do diplomacy on Dathomir would be burnt alive in seconds. But he's still unhappy to hear about OB's past, and even less happy with OB's teacher, who apparently likes to leave OB alone in dangerous places.

He tells OB this, and the other player seems surprised with Maul's displeasure. Maul doesn’t know why — OB is a good person, and good people deserve to be treated well. Maul isn't a child, and he isn't a good person, but it’s still nice to see OB angrily defending the lives of good children.

Maul's second big revelation comes only a few months after the first one, precipitated by another one of OB's many stories.

Maul chuckles as he reads OB's story. Maul has no idea what OB looks like, but it's fun to imagine him on stage being pelted by booze. And he definitely remembers Q — that Kiffar seems to cause OB some new kind of trouble every few months.

Maul suddenly feels annoyed with Q. OB obviously cares about him, and what does he do? He pranks him! If OB cared about Maul that much... It doesn't matter. Q is a bantha druk friend.

Maul feels something tighten in his chest. Even before the tunnels, being the son of the Clan Mother and living in the Nightsister lair was not a great way to make friends. It was one thing he hadn't lied about to OB when he made up stories of his childhood, since there wasn't really anything to expand on. So he doesn’t know how to answer, and before he can decide OB has already sent another message.

Maul stares at the screen. Was OB implying that they were friends? Maul's heart starts beating too fast, and his fingers shake as he tries to type.

While he waited for OB's reply, Maul was terrified of the rejection he was sure was on its way. OB's lengthy answer is somehow both better and ten times worse. For some reason Maul cannot comprehend, OB uses a complex and data-heavy game just to talk to Maul.

Maul's horns are itching with mortified joy, and he wants to simultaneously hide away under his blanket and dance around the tunnel. But there's also a part of him that is certain this is some sort of trick. No-one could want Maul as a friend, right?

Maul tries to calm his racing heart while OB types. It has to be a lie, because there are no reasons to want to talk to Maul — even his own master doesn't like him.

Maul throws the data pad onto his pillow and tumbles off his mattress, scrambling on the cold, wet floor. He can't breathe — there's something stuck in his throat — and he thinks he might be crying.

How could OB say these things? Maul is a Sith, even if he's not a good Sith. Sith aren't kind, or funny, or helpful. Sith are powerful and ruthless and selfish. According to Sidious, being kind is a weakness.

But Maul is weak, isn't he? He's pretty bad at being a Sith, after all.

Overwhelmed by all these new thoughts, Maul rushes to his favourite hiding place. It's an overturned speeder, the cavity under its floor filled with a tangle of wires and rubber. Maul likes to crawl inside and wrap these wires around himself until he's almost suffocating, until he feels safe.

A Nightbrother gave him a hug, once, when he was very small. It feels a bit like that.

In the safety of his hideout, Maul tries to put his thoughts in order. The true Sith way would be to throw away everything except the anger and fear, but Maul isn't a good Sith. He does like to think that he's a good holo-farmer, though, so he tries to tend to his mind as he would to an overgrown orchard.

There are two competing species in his mind: twisting vines of fear and self-loathing, and dainty trees of joy and longing. The vines want to pull him towards the path of the Sith, towards murder and revenge and power. They are filled with Sidious' vicious teachings and Mother Talzin's angry hatred, and in some way they are all Maul has ever known. The trees, on the other hand, pull him towards TerraFarm and OB, and they are filled with OB's laughter and his open-hearted kindness.

Maul has never really considered his thoughts in this way, but now that he has, he knows the competition is tearing his mind apart. He needs to decide which species to cut, and which to grow. He isn't an idiot — Maul knows what that choice really is. It's a choice between dark and light, between giving up or fighting for what he wants. He can be what Sidious wants him to be, or he can be the person OB thinks he is.

You are everything a good friend should be.

OB is wrong. Maul isn't kind, or helpful. OB is the kind one. Maul is full of fear and anger, and he's slipping towards hate. But Maul also believes that maybe, if he wanted, he could someday be that person that OB cares for. That maybe that person is part of him.

And really, in the end, the choice is simple. Because Maul may be scared of Sidious and angry at the world, but his longing is stronger. He longs for a life where there is no pain. He longs to farm on a real planet and grasp his accomplishments with his own two hands. He longs for friendship, and for love.

Taking a deep breath, Maul crawls out of his hiding place and back to his mattress. He picks up his datapad, and scrolls past OB's worried questions to reach the input box. He types.