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A/N: I'm really sorry! I meant to get this up ages ago. I've gotten so caught up trying to plan for the sequel that its hard to remember to update this one sometimes. Thanks for sticking with me! Sorry this is so short, but this scene needed to stand alone.


He began with the desire of Light, but when he could not possess it for himself alone, he descended through fire and wrath into a great burning, down into Darkness. And darkness he used most in his evil works upon Arda, and filled it with fear for all living things.

Silmarillion

Recap:

Sometimes, the Darkside required a laser-scalpel, someone with precision rather than savagery. Combine that with Skywalker's dedication, his talent, his raw power? Palpatine delicately sipped from his tumbler while he angled to corner Kenobi's queen. How fortunate it was that he'd caught Kenobi when his foundations were cracked, when he was weak enough to reveal his hairline vulnerabilities. It was a gift he would not squander.

What use did he have for the Rule of Two? The Sith would not be hiding in the shadows for much longer.

Chapter 17 Invasion

Stage one of the plan had gone off without a hitch. His master's planet was weak, unused to war. Even now they did not truly expect any problems. The security at the palace complex, even with the improvements made since the Invasion, was pathetic. Maul had snuck through the security systems of the galaxy's most paranoid individuals without getting caught; this one was child's play.

The fact that their child Queen and the galaxy's chancellor had left residence the morning before was not reason enough to relax security, though it was a common mistake.

He didn't even bother to take the air ducts on his way to the South Wing. He walked through the wide marble corridors with ease, familiar with his route, caressing the hilt of his lightsabre, fingertips dragging over each groove. It was a curious game he'd been asked to play—avoid the security cameras, but kill all you encounter—yet one he relished. A challenge, but a brutal one. Maul would enjoy the rest of phase one.

He licked his lips in dark anticipation: he had spent his weeks since the end of the Invasion learning the layout of every corner of the sprawling palace and he knew the patrols and work habits of its denizens. It was too late for even the most dedicated Naboo to be awake, even for the bleeding hearts working to rebuild their precious planet. But he did pass a couple of two man patrols, both of which were efficiently dispatched and hidden from immediate discovery, carelessly flopped into alcoves and nearby conference rooms to be found in the morning.

The smell of burnt flesh stoked his appetite. His bloodlust rose, burning his belly, roiling up his throat like a rising gorge. Only terror bred into him by his master forced it back down.

He let the slow and pointless death settled into the Force, letting it play across his skin as he prowled, tracing the careful lines of his tattoos. Then, he reached out with it, sending Darkness oozing around him and reading the ripples it sent back to him.

The room he sought was up ahead, at the end of the corridor. The occupants' rumbling snores were carried back to him through the Darkness. Maul scowled, caressing his lightsabre. The boy needed to be awake for this to work. Reaching out once more, Maul touched Skywalker with a pinprick of the Force. The tweak was enough and Maul felt the brat wake with a jolt. With a predatory glint in his eyes, the apprentice slid around the corner and walked up to the suite door.

This had all been planned for weeks. Everything had been precisely calculated from the guard's response time and Kenobi's connection to Skywalker to their subtle distrust of palace security. Of course, not everything was perfect—the Queen and Chancellor were supposed to be in residence—but his master had decided to go through with the plan; Maul was eager to oblige.

The door eased open and the shadow crept in. The Force told him that Skywalker was in the room to the left, tossing in his bed, but awake. Kenobi was lightly asleep n the other room. Lifting the iron-clad mask on his Force signature, Maul silently unhooked his 'sabre. The Jedi stirred.

Maul was hungry for the coming fight.

The thick carpet under Maul's boots muffled the silence of his footsteps, though it did nothing to silence the thwam of his foot on Skywalker's bedroom door, nor to soften the echoing boom as it bounced off the marble wall behind it.

He smirked as he felt Kenobi jolted fully awake.

The brat rolled off the bed in shock, falling hard on the floor. Maul licked his lips. The Sith apprentice timed it carefully, stepping confidently into the room, and away from the doorway.

Maul positioned himself off to the side of the doorway, close enough to the brat to look like a threat, but far enough away that his Master's plan would work. It put him within easy reach of two of the four exit points in the room, including the window overlooking the lake. The position also left him with an eye on the doorway; he wasn't going to open his back to the padawan that had almost beaten him on Tatooine.

Behind him, the other bedroom door burst open, spilling light into the living space and casting shadow into Skywalker's bedroom.

He played with the lightsabre, resisting the urge to flick it on too early, letting his hand settle into the unfamiliar grip. Ambient light dimly illuminated a well-proportioned room with an expansive bed, a small desk, and plenty of floor space.

In front of him, Skywalker was scrambling to his feet on the far side of the bed. The boy's terror and rage was a pain-pleasure balm to the Sith, caressing and scratching.

Behind him, Kenobi darted across the living room and skidded to a halt in the doorway. The Jedi Padawan's grief and anger was more subtle than Skywalker's, but so much more intoxicating, so much more potent. It was a rare and sweet delicacy.

"You," the man choked out.

Maul bared his teeth. He felt the Jedi tense.

Maul stepped forward to engage the younger being, feeling a thrill at the challenge he posed, twirling the unlit 'sabre. Maul knew he had only gained the upper hand on Tatooine because he had made his first strike from his speeder.

But not all first strikes were physical.

He waited until Kenobi's full focus was on his 'sabre hand. Then he flicked on the lightsabre; horror spread across Kenobi's face, lit by a green glow. Glee tingled down Maul's back at the distress he could taste in the Force. He gnashed his teeth. Provoking. It was so rare that anyone could challenge him anymore.

Kenobi hadn't expected to face his master's blade.

The Jedi made no move to attack. Maul could sense Kenobi reaching for his precious Light, though his metaphysical hand trembled under the strain of his emotions. His master had made it clear that he was to push Kenobi towards the Darkside, so, Maul moved in, swinging the green blade dramatically in great sweeping arcs, biting at the Jedi's concentration, showing off the color of his lightsabre.

He twirled it and glanced provocatively at the boy still standing shocked in the corner. The challenge was clear.

With a roar, the grieving man launched himself into a rage filled attack, throwing his full weight into the swing. Maul side stepped the sloppy move and shifted forward for his own attack. The care Kenobi had given to their fight on Tatooine was gone, and though the grace and strength remained, it was unharnessed. Sith could channel their rage into a fight because they were accustomed to anger; that was how they trained, that was how they lived. A good man, however, a man like Kenobi, didn't know what to do with all of the rage. It blinded them.

Maul drew on the madness that seeped from the man, plucking it from the Force like a ripe apple and savoring it like a fine wine while it lasted. It was almost as good as a long session with one of the guards…and like the guards, it would have to be enough.

He was not to kill Kenobi (though he could already taste the pain, taste the blood, taste the burned flesh and the scars—), Master had been clear about that. Taunt him, wound him, push him to the Darkside, but Maul was not to kill either of the Force sensitives (though he could hear their cries of pain, their screams for each other has hope bled out faster than their blood—).

It wasn't long until Kenobi began to regain control of his feelings though, he was too well trained—despite the anger, he hadn't come close to touching the Darkside.

The Sith Master wouldn't like that.

Maul sank deeper into the Force, pulling as much of the ambient energy into the abyss with him. The room darkened, the smells sharpened, the fear and the anger became hotter, wilder. He was hungry.

He shivered in pleasure, even as he ducked another swing.

Maul locked 'sabres with Kenobi and drew him in close until he could almost taste the other man's sweat. He could feel the heat of Kenobi's glare over the burn of the green and blue 'sabres. Maul whispered, "It took him hours to die. I made sure of it."

Kenobi hissed and threw Maul backwards. The following onslaught contained only an echo of Kenobi's power, but it was enough that Maul had to throw his full focus into the fight, barely fending off the wild, powerful swings. Kenobi was powerful, even while off kilter, a formidable opponent he would hate to meet on even terms.

Still, he kept an eye on the brat, waiting for the Darkness to shimmer in warning the moment Skywalker finally remembered the panic button that was found in every palace bedroom.

The Sith blocked a swing, ducked under the follow up, and took a swipe at Kenobi's legs.

The Force flickered. The brat pressed the panic button.

Stage three began.

Now Maul knew the rest of the fight would last exactly two minutes and four seconds—the precise amount of time it took the palace guard to respond to a real emergency. He abruptly changed tactics, moving himself into place.

Time for his exit.

He had maneuvered the fight so that he stood over the window overlooking the lake. Waiting until he could take advantage of the sudden appearance of the guards, Maul opened his guard and allowed his stolen lightsabre to go flying. Losing, fleeing, hiding went against all the training he had ever received, but he would follow his master's orders (though he wanted the two screaming as he twisted and sucked the Force from them, writhing on the floor until he could taste their pain, until he could feel it with them—).

Moments later, the guards burst into the room, just as he jumped backwards towards the window, avoiding Kenobi's follow up blow.

He didn't say a word, but he made sure Kenobi knew I'll be back and I'll kill him too.

He wrapped the Darkside around him into a tight cocoon before blasting it back, sending the sticky Darkness storming through every corner of the room, smothering the Light.

And then, he was out the window, falling down four stories and into the black depths of the lake. He smirked. Perfect.


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