Flashback to 42 BBY. Maul/Khamier is about 12 Standard Years Old

N'ilaani, N'ilaani, N'ilaani…

Her name was a tune in his head, a song of brightness and glory. He could listen to it forever, could taste it on his tongue and never want to taste anything else ever again, except perhaps her body. He had wondered for years, and he meant to know soon.

He entered her small clean hut like a snake gliding through grass; silent, unseen, smooth as the top note of a lute. Her smooth, bare back was facing him; she was standing over a carved stone tub of water, a basket of herbs in her hand. The sight of so much bright orange skin made him shiver. If she'd turned around to look at him, he would've been lost. He would've fled. But she didn't turn around, didn't even notice he was there. He'd made sure of that. Even before he'd entered her home, he'd reached inside with his mind. Her thoughts were encapsulated by his, and he sent calming waves toward her.

Relax…

Khamier stalked forwards, leonine, his eyes fixed upon her with the precision of a targeting device. N'ilaani was seated in the tub now, her torso leaning against one side of it, her entire body in relaxed repose.

He stood directly behind her, silent, his heart working like an engine in his chest, All his nerves were tingling as though before a fight, He felt marvelous… invincible.

He lifted his hands, contemplated them briefly. They were large and strong. They could crush a Zabrak's skull. N'ilaani noticed nothing; in fact, she seemed to be falling asleep. In one slow movement, Khamier brought his hands to hover on both sides of her neck.

And then he squeezed.

Her reaction was instantaneous. Her glorious form lifted from the bottom of the tub in protest and her arms flailed wildly, her mouth open but soundless. He gripped her harder, felt her grow weaker beneath his hands until her brilliant green eyes were half-lidded, and her arms had fallen back into the water. Then, when he felt that she was on the brink, he leaned over her head, brought his mouth to hers, and breathed.

As his life force flowed into her, N'ilaani's chest rose and fell, rose and fell. He had pushed her to the edge, but then brought her back. He withdrew his mouth and looked down at her.

"Why did you do that?" she breathed.

"Because now you are mine," he replied simply.

With little preamble he pulled his tunic over his arms and head, revealing a hard, lean muscular torso. Then he kicked off his worn breeches and was naked before her, as she was before him. He knelt by the side of the tub, his eyes never leaving hers.

"You know me?" he asked.

Slowly she nodded.

"I have loved you for so long," he said.

He lifted his hand to her head, and lightly touched her horn. It was so lovely. He felt himself growing tighter, tenser, and just a little bit breathless. He dropped his hand, letting his fingertips just barely skim her ochre colored nipples before finding that secret part of her body between her toned legs. Her breath hitched and she sat up a bit straighter.

Carefully, as though he had all the time in the world, his finger inched into her, N'ilaani closed her eyes and whimpered.

With excruciating slowness he began to move his finger in and out within her. It was hard initially; neither of them had ever had experience with intimacy, and her body was small and tight while he had an unusually large hand. But soon he worked in a second finger, and then a third, and she was gasping under his hand, her own grasping the sides of the tub hard.

It disconcerted him that she showed little to no resistance. With sudden cruelty he wrenched his fingers from her and, with his hands on her hips, lifted her easily from the tub. He slammed her against the nearest wall, holding her against it with the weight and press of his body. This elicited a startled yelp from her, and her purple eyes widened with alarm.

"You're afraid of what I'm going to do," he growled into her ear. It was a statement, not a question. "But I wonder… are you afraid of what you will do?" He rubbed his hardness against her teasingly, watched with mean delight as she squirmed beneath him, her face torn between desire and terror.

For one glistening moment all was still, except for the rapid rise and fall of their chests.

And then in a brutal thrust he conquered her and she, effervescent before him, trembled and gave a gasp that seemed to suck in his very soul. Perhaps she did.

Khamier felt glorious. Her body, the object of his long drawn fantasies, was every bit as nubile and enjoyable as he imagined all these years, but there was another dimension to his pleasure. He felt the Force shake violently and undulate around him, like the seismic waves the ground makes when it shifts. It was raw and grating and it spurred him on, harder, faster, until he no longer felt himself breathing; he did not need to, supported as he was by the power of the Force.

As he felt his own power overflow the boundaries of his physical body and expand outward, N'ilaani threw her head back, her eyes shut tight, her body welded against his, her teeth clenched together as she took the full brunt of his unconscious Force shove. Feeling her moment of complete vulnerability, he reached out and held her mind, feeding her all the feelings he felt for her, the longing, the lust, the love.

You will never love anyone else again, he ordered her. You will never know pleasure except by me.

This sent her over the edge and, moaning, she collapsed against him, her muscles alight with miniscule tremors, even as she nodded frantically. Yes, yes, yes…

Afterwards she succumbed to a deep sleep. Khamier placed her still form upon the sleeping mat in the corner of the hut and looked down at her for a moment. He had felt her mind shatter, splinter apart in a hundred thousand tiny shards; all of her past opinions, inhibitions, and goals all erased in his wake. Him- Khamier. She was consumed by him.

For as long as he could remember she had been the focus of his life, and now he was the focus of hers. He would be the crux of every action she ever undertook from now on, the motive behind all. She would eat for him, sleep for him, breathe for him.

He froze, his complete grip over her overwhelming. And then he turned and fled.