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A'Sharad sat at the bar table, drink in hand, face dishonored and on display, right arm aching where it had been cut off. Thankfully, there were no phantom pains today, but he didn't expect that to last for long. It seemed to him that whenever he dwelled on his guilt, on what Skywalker had done, on everything he'd lost, it would make his arm ache more. Sometimes it felt as though a saber was still cutting through it.
A'Sharad gripped his glass, threatening to break it under the force of his anger. He was a coward yet again. He'd gone back home to his people, his family, because with the Jedi dead he had nowhere else to go, no one left to protect. And so he continued his father's work. He became a warlord. He led the tribes against the settlers and farmers, paying blood with blood for all the lives lost by poisoned wells and blaster shots. That was Tusken justice. That was what needed to be done when the outsiders wouldn't stop, would just keep taking and taking and taking, with no regard to who they were harming in the process. That was what needed to be done when the enemy had decided you were no more than animals that needed to be put down.
But Obi-Wan did not understand! He believed this path would make A'Sharad into a monster, that it would lead to his Fall as a Jedi as the war led to the fall of the Order. But A'Sharad was tired of doing nothing. The Jedi never helped the people of the Outer Rims because the governments here did not care about who they were oppressing. The powers of the Outer Rim were the only ones with the right to request aid from the Jedi, but they would never want to free the people they exploit.
The Jedi would never help the Tusken, who would never ask outsiders for help. Who were not recognized in any way to be able to call for help if it were even an option in their eyes.
Only his father had cared enough to leave the Order and take matters into his own hands.
When A'Sharad was dishonored in front of his people, the last of who he was died inside. Two of his families were taken from him now. Ironic, that a master and his padawan did this to him.
He is just a dead man walking now, wandering aimlessly from planet to planet. His heart feels cold and dead; he feels hopeless. Obi-Wan sent out a message to not lose hope, but the man took that very thing away from.
He should have stayed on Tatooine, let the sands claim him. But he left as Obi-Wan demanded, because even though he didn’t feel much more than hate and anger and guilt anymore - and he was disgusted with himself for feeling this way, for having allowed himself to fall so far from Jedi teachings - a small part of him still could not bear to die.
Perhaps it was spite.
Skywalker was the first to take my face, but he will not have my life. Obi-Wan was the second, but he will not have it either.
A figure sat into the seat next to him, hood over their head, arms resting on the bar top. Horns seemed to be on their head, judging by the small bumps under the hood. A'Sharad ignored them, glaring at his drink, bitterness coiling like an angry snake in his chest. He gulped down his drink, feeling the burn as it flowed past that coil, doing nothing to alleviate it.
He ordered another drink, and started nursing it as well.
His neighbor spoke, voice soft and low. “What has you drowning your sorrows, friend?”
A'Sharad glanced at him, frowning. He took another drink. “I am a dead man. There is nothing to do but drown.”
His neighbor chuckled. A'Sharad clenched his glass tight and felt a burn in his chest. “Oh? And why are you a dead man?”
A'Sharad clenched his jaw. It was dangerous to say too much. He would be hunted down if this stranger said the wrong things to the right people. But the words were piling up like bile in his lungs. He had no one to talk to. No one who would understand. No one to share his pain.
No one to ask.
The fire kept burning as he spoke, eyes gazing into unseen fires and never-ending sand. “I have lost all my family. I have been betrayed. My foolishness allowed for all this to happen. If I hadn't been so naive my family would still be alive. My home would still be there.” Both homes. Both places that still existed but he could never return to.
The stranger hummed. “Yes, I know that feeling. I've been dead before as well. Only my brother saved me. But then he was killed, as was my mother. My home was destroyed. And then I was dead again. But I refused to stay dead. I still need revenge against the one behind it all.”
A'Sharad looked to the stranger in interest. He hadn't expected to find a kindred spirit here tonight. Or ever, really. Though he shouldn't be surprised. There was always more suffering in the galaxy than the Jedi could handle. Chose to handle.
“And who do you need revenge against?” A'Sharad found that he did not care he was entertaining this stranger's vengeance. His neighbor was no Jedi, and A'Sharad could not find any reason to dissuade him. More than just his belief in blood calling for blood. He just, truly did not care . . .
The stranger turned toward him, yellow eyes glowing beneath the dark of his hood. “The Emperor.”
A'Sharad froze, eyes wide and breath stuck.
Yellow eyes
Yellow eyes
Yellow eyes rimmed red in blood
He'd been approached by a Sith.
He'd been sitting beside a Sith.
He'd conversed with a Sith, bonding over similar stories and asking him about his revenge.
“Darth Maul,” he weakly whispered. His body was tense, ready to fight, but he'd hardly trained since he lost his arm and was still unbalanced. He was no match for a Sith. The best he would be able to do was run away.
The Sith flashed a grin. “Just Maul now. Lord Maul if you will. I haven't been ‘Darth’ since my Master took on Dooku,” he spat out bitterly, frown marring his face.
This felt surreal. Surely this wasn't happening. Hopefully it meant he'd actually stayed on Tatooine to be reclaimed by the sands, and this absurd scenario was just a dream created by his dying, overheating brain.
Maul was relaxed, body language open, entirely unthreatening if not for A’Sharad's knowledge of everything this man was capable of. Of the Jedi he'd killed. Of the village he'd slaughtered to get Obi-Wan to come to him.
A thought then occurred to A'Sharad. “Your revenge.” Maul tilted his head, eyes entirely unreadable. “You said you want revenge against the Emperor. I thought you wanted revenge against Obi-Wan.”
Maul growled at that, lips in a snarl and eyes flashing with rage. “I still hate Kenobi with all my being, and one day I will kill him. But ultimately he is but the smaller of my greatest enemies. My former master abandoned me to my insanity, but afterwards I was granted clarity. He stole me from my mother and my brothers. He was who tortured me all throughout my life. He killed my brother, and then had me tortured yet again for nothing more than his own amusement. He killed my mother, and left me dead again. All I live for is revenge, and I will see it done.”
It should've been terrifying but there was something inspiring about seeing Maul so impassioned and willing to avenge his loved ones.
Blood calls for blood.
A'Sharad stopped that thought. Sith could not love, only possess. It was all too likely Maul was only angry at those who were his being taken from him, rather than the actual loss of his family.
But A'Sharad saw Maul's clenched fist. His bared teeth. The all-too-telling glistening in his eyes. Perhaps, there is more than one reason why Maul is no longer titled “Darth” . . .
A'Sharad tilted his head. “Why tell me this? You know I am a Jedi, even if not exactly who I am. You've told a total stranger the vulnerabilities of your hearts. Why?”
Maul leaned forward, a manic desperation in his eyes. A'Sharad leaned back. “Because I could sense your rage. Your guilt and bitterness and your desire for revenge.”
A'Sharad frowned, eyes going cold. “I want justice.”
“Call it what you want, but I can sense your desire for blood. Join me. Help me get my revenge on my master, and get your ‘justice’ for the Jedi.”
A'Sharad frowned in suspicion. “And after? What will you do?”
Maul’s eyes burned with cold fire. “As I said, all I live for is my revenge. Once Sidious is dead, Obi-Wan will be next, and then I will be a dead man again, one way or another.”
A'Sharad frowned at that. Once they dealt with the Emperor, he would have to kill Maul to prevent him from -
He was actually considering working with Maul. The zabrak who killed Qui-Gon Jinn. Who massacred a village just to call Obi-Wan to him. Who took over Death Watch, took control of Mandalore, and then executed Duchess Satine in front of Obi-Wan.
This man was a monster. Cruel and vicious and entirely uncaring of anyone who did not serve a purpose to him.
But.
Maul wanted to kill Sidious.
If there were any surviving Jedi they were all in hiding. No one was willing to strike at the source, too afraid and in shock from the imbalance in the Force.
The only one willing to fight back was a former Sith abandoned by his former master.
A'Sharad glanced back at Maul, at those desperate gleaming eyes. He looked towards himself, at the bitterness, grief and rage that had nowhere to go. He was a dead man, and his blood, the blood of his felled brethren, called for justice.
Even if to others, justice looked like revenge.
A'Sharad sat up straight, looking Maul in the eye. “I will join you.” Maul grinned sharp and feral. “But, I will need time. I've only recently lost half my arm, and I'm still adjusting.”
Maul eyed the stump hidden underneath a folded sleeve. He spoke seriously, looking A'Sharad in the eye. “I have experience with dismemberment. I'm sure I can help get you back to top form.”
A'Sharad remembered Maul had been cut in half, the waist down now being prosthetics. They'd both lost limbs, to the same man no less.
“I look forward to it,” A'Sharad nodded in affirmation.
As the two left the bar to wherever Maul was hiding, A'Sharad thought about their discussion. He hated Sidious yes, but truly, trying to kill that man was simply justice in his eyes. However, to kill Sidious, they would have to go through Vader.
Anakin Skywalker.
The traitor to the Jedi, the first to see his face.
The one whom he let get away with mass murder.
A'Sharad found that what he felt towards Vader, truly was a desire for revenge.