She woke when the pulsing warmth around her began to shift away, and she was suddenly left feeling quite cold. Cracking open an eye, it took her some moments to remember where she was, in a starkly furnished room, lying naked on a sleeping mat. And the black and red demon from yesterday was sitting beside her, thus accounting for the sudden lack of heat, for there were no blankets or sheets. She began to shiver, and could not tell if it was because of the cold air in the room, or his presence, or both. She ached from where he had taken her last night.
She too sat up, rubbing her arms. Her new lord and master was seated with his legs crossed, a hand upon each knee, breathing deeply and with his terrifying yellow eyes closed. He seemed not to have noticed her awakening.
"You are cold. I suppose you need garments." This he said without opening his eyes. He raised his hand, and the black robes that he had so negligently tossed into the corner from the previous night flew into his palm. "You can wear these until you are given more suitable clothing."
She bit her lip and took the robes. They were tailored specifically to him, she guessed, which meant that they were horribly large on her small frame, trailing two feet onto the floor. I look more like a clothes hanger than a person wearing clothes, she thought suddenly, and gave a small chuckle. The material was good, soft and non-irritating, but heavy.
"What are you called?" he asked, although still seemingly deep in meditation.
"Elyrhis." Then, remembering his threat from yesterday, she hastily added, "My lord."
"And your family name?"
"I have none."
"You were a slave?"
"Aren't I still? My lord?"
His great yellow and red eyes opened, and his head turned so that his intense gaze was fixed upon her face. "You have not yet truly experienced slavery. Perhaps legally, in those silly rulebooks written by greasy politicians, yes, you belong to someone in name and in deed. But you have never been possessed utterly, in body and soul. You have never been so completely under the rule of someone else that without so much as a twitch of their finger, you find yourself doing things you never would have done otherwise."
Her brow furrowed, wondering what he meant. "I'll have you know, my lord, that I have been a slave all my—"
And then she felt it, a tugging, although no one was tugging her. The very air around her became a vacuum, sucking her towards him, closer and closer, even as she fought against it, until her breasts pressed firmly, luridly, against his muscled arm. As she struggled against his invisible hold on her, panting slightly, her breath skittered across his skin, arousing a faint shudder within him.
Then he waved his hand in a quick, careless gesture, knocking her four feet away with her back pressed against the cold wooden floor, shocked. As she sat back up, stunned and disbelieving, he stood up. "So you see," he said icily from his high vantage point, "what you have known before is nothing in comparison."
Darth Maul walked to one wall of the room, which she now noticed was comprised entirely of drawers. He opened one and pulled out fresh robes, which he then donned himself, covering the wild art that was his body.
"My lord?"
"Speak," he said, tying the sash around his waist.
"What exactly is expected of me? I mean…" she blushed, "aside from what we did last night? Do you want me to clean your house and wash your clothes or something? Because you know, I won't do it. You can hire people to do that sort of work, and I've been doing that my entire life."
"No. That is work for servants. You are my personal slave. You will do as I require of you, whenever I ask it, wherever I ask it."
"And what might a Sith Lord require of his personal slave?"
He did not miss the defiant mockery in her voice, and so did not reply to her question. He did, however, level a stare at her that was so intense and bright that she shuddered. Those eyes, she thought. He could kill with those.
"What if I become pregnant?" she blurted out, the thought only just occurring to her. What if I give birth to a monster with eyes like that? With a head like that?
"I don't know if that's possible," he said, his lightsaber zooming into his right hand from its place beside the door. "We are, after all, two entirely different species."
"Not different enough to stop you from putting yourself inside of me! Not different enough for you to keep from squirting that wet stuff on my thighs!" She stood up, thinking that she would feel more courageous if she was closer to his towering height, but her legs were sore and had trouble supporting her weight. She felt herself falling.
In an instant, he was beside her, his arms around and underneath her, and she was surrounded by that wonderful warmth again. He smelled dark and masculine, and radiated heat. "Thank you," she murmured, as he set her down gently.
"I don't apologize for anything. But if I hurt you last night, know that it was not my intention. I know very little in the ways of human females, but, as you will soon see for yourself, I am an exceedingly quick learner. If you do indeed carry any offspring of mine, I will see to your safety as well as theirs."
"But you're a killer," she said pointedly. She could practically smell the blood on his hands, read it within the glow of his eyes. "You're a Sith Lord!"
"Nonetheless. To turn my back upon my mate and children is against nature itself. Even the Dark Side of the Force would not allow it."
She cast her eyes down. This wasn't the answer she'd expected. Like everyone else, she'd heard the rumors about the Dark Side of the Force, that it made monsters of otherwise very talented warriors, and that these monsters would do all manner of cruel and gruesome things in their quest to obtain more power. She hadn't expected Darth Maul to say something so generous. And the she remembered something.
"What did Senator Palpatine mean yesterday when he said that I would help you to grow stronger?"
"I don't know. If you cannot stand, you may stay in this room and rest for the day. Otherwise, I would like you to come with me."
"Where are you going?"
"Training."
Every muscle was tuned and well-oiled like a new machine. Every slash, every leap, every flick of the finger was controlled with steely precision that spoke of years and years of devoted training.
'I suppose the Dark Arts are like any other form of art,' thought Elyrhis, seated on a downy cushion in a glass-walled observatory room, her eyes focused upon her master, who was leaping acrobatically through his combat practice, which consisted of computer generated holographs that responded to his every movement, much as a real opponent would. 'His body, certainly, is a work of art.'
She blushed upon reaching this thought, her mind straying back to their activities of last night. She did wonder- just how often and how intensely would they repeat such an exercise? If every night would be a repeat of last night, she doubted she would ever be able to walk again!
Darth Maul had been at it all day. He had denied food, water, and rest throughout, much to Elyrhis' surprise. Surely such a body, so broad in frame and muscular in build, would require much nourishment to sustain its vigorous activities. But then she remembered that he was not a human like her. She, on the other hand, was not above accepting the food brought to her by a service droid. She had never had such good food in her life, which had, until then, mainly consisted of living on the streets and scavenging what she could, or begging, if she got really desperate. People always seemed surprised when a girl her age begged. Probably because so few homeless and stray people lived to her age.
Now, however, she saw that he was finally gearing down to stop. It had been exciting to watch him, but now she was truly curious as to what they would do next. Was this how she was to spend her days now? To sit in a little room all day while he fought digitally constructed foes?
Darth Maul retracted his red lightsaber. He opened and walked through a door to the left of his large training space, which was then connected to the observatory room. When he entered, Elyrhis wobbled to her feet and did her best to bow without falling forwards. Thankfully, she succeeded.
He was not at all sweaty or out of breath, even with a good six hours of almost constant and robust motion, she noticed. He was, however, scowling slightly.
"Come," he intoned in his deep voice. "We go now to my shop."
"You have a store?" Elyrhis couldn't keep her surprise hidden.
"No. It is a mechanical workshop. I build most of my own weaponry." He turned back out of the room, and Elyrhis wobbled after him.
"Oh. Like your lightsaber?" she asked.
"Among other things." His voice was clipped and short. She wondered if he was more tired than he let on.
He led her to the end of a corridor, where an elevator stood with its doors opened. They entered its small space, and he pressed a button indicating that they move down a floor. Elyrhis knew that their living accommodations were above the combat floor. All day, they had not once stepped out of doors. Compared to her old life of constantly living on the streets, today had seemed luxurious to her. But it was still strange.
"Do you never go outside?" she asked. "My lord," she added hastily.
"Often. When I have a mission."
The elevator stopped, its doors slid open, and Darth Maul stepped up to a large metal door standing before them. To the side of the door was a retinal, hand, and voice scanner. After passing the scanner's tests, the doors slid slowly open to reveal a room such as Elyrhis had never seen before.
It was all one, enormous room, even larger than the combat room the floor above them. Along all four of its high-ceilinged walls hung various mechanical equipment, of all shapes, sizes, and uses. There were numerous benches, desks, and work stations scattered about the room, most with some sort of unfinished machine on them. The room was brightly lit, like a museum.
"This is all yours?" she asked, mouth gaping open.
"This building is my master's. He procured it for my use. Anything I need, he supplies." He strode forwards, up to a workstation with what looked like a speeder on it. It seemed to be finished, although the outside was unpainted or detailed. Maul put his hand over the junction of its handlebars and looked at it closely.
Elyrhis could not judge the expression of his face. It was something akin to fondness, but fiercer and more prideful. As well, his face was generally inscrutable. She stepped forwards cautiously to get a better look at the speeder. It had the look of a fish about it, with foot rests that extended from the bottom on both sides like spiny flippers, and a curved spine. Tentatively, she reached out and touched the seat of it.
"Bloodfin," he said suddenly, taking his hands off the handlebar.
She withdrew her own hand quickly. "What?"
"I have named her Bloodfin."
"She's beautiful," she whispered, reaching out to touch it once again. Was there any limit to his talents?
"She is," he agreed, although he wasn't looking at the speeder. He was looking at her, and rather pointedly. He found her questioning face vulnerable and utterly appealing. With a lightning-quick motion, he reached out, grabbed her wrist, and pulled her tight against him, eliciting a gasp from her.
"Today while I was training I noticed nothing different about my mind and body or its abilities from what they were yesterday," he growled. "I was promised more power. You were supposed to give it to me."
Terrified and entranced by his closeness, his crowned head and topaz-yellow eyes, Elyrhis' mouth opened but no words came out.
'She is so scared,' he thought with relish. 'I could kill her right now, and she would not even be able to struggle.' It paid to look like a demon after all.
"Why am I no different, slave?" he rumbled in her face, baring his sharp teeth. "Aren't you here to serve me and my purposes?"
"I know nothing, my lord!" she squeaked. Her eyes shut with fright, and her hands found purchase on his robes. She fisted the material tightly, and then loosened her hold, and then tightened again, as if she was unsure whether she wanted him closer or farther away.
The scent of her fear was more appealing to him than he could ever have guessed. 'Perhaps,' he thought, 'more sex is needed. In which case, I have no qualms about increasing the odds.'
He backed her up against the work table, and pressed down until her torso was lying on it, and her legs hanging off the edge. She gazed up at him, surprised and apprehensive. He lowered his head between her breasts, closed his glowing eyes, and took a deep breath, drawing in the warm and alluring scent of her. He then raised his head to look at her as his hands traversed up her thighs to her hips, lifting the material of her skirt as they traveled higher and higher. Leaning forwards to lick and bite softly her neck, he ground his hips against hers.
This time, he felt it—a spark within himself. It filled him, and it filled her, he could tell. 'Is this it? Is this the power she is supposed to give me?' He felt her trembling beneath him, her pink mouth in a perfect O as she arched and writhed. And then, a rush of warmth that enveloped them both, she on the table and him above, until everything stilled to a glow.
Story Notes:
The whole concept of this developed because I was wondering if Maul was even capable of love. Someone so ruthless and totally indoctrinated in the ways of the Dark Side… it just appealed to me. And I figured that the only way he would even allow someone other than Sidious to grow close to him is if he was promised more strength. He just seems like that sorta guy.
Bloodfin, by the way, is the actual name of his speederbike. Maul was known to employ a special skill called "mechu-deru", which basically combines his Force powers with mechanical prowess, allowing him to create and personalize much of his own tools. A man in charge of his own technology, as it were.