Chapter Text
The evening had grown late and yet Maul still had trouble falling asleep, though his exhaustion was immeasurable. He watched as grape sized flakes fell from the sky and melted against the window panes. He supposed the fireplace kept the room’s temperature tolerable despite the chill of snow, however it did little for light. He preferred the solitude of his father's manor and, though he missed the call of battle from his militia days as a Colonel, he couldn’t say he missed the awful humid mist that followed him everywhere in camp.
It had been months since he returned to his ancestral home after staying in India, making new battle tactics to win a war they had been previously outnumbered in. When the war treaty was signed, he was sent home. He felt robbed of his chance to become much more than just a retired soldier, if it hadn’t been for his animosity for General Kenobi, he could have been promoted and replaced him. Maul grimaced knowing that the man was sitting back laughing at Maul, forced into civilian life once more to attend dances and balls because he was an unmarried bachelor. Though at twenty-five, he was considered too old for many ladies who were making their debut into society. In other words, carted around to different balls at the fat chance that some stupid man would ask for a pittance dowry in marriage.
Maul moved his candle as he stood to pace the room yet again. The candle didn’t help much for light, but he could see in front of him better than just using the light from the lit fireplace. He raised the candle to the window as he watched a small torch dance across the path up to the front door. No doubt a letter carrier sent from his neighbor. He didn’t envy the man, because of the snow but he knew cook would find him a cup of hot brew to set him straight again before he trudged out. Damn fool didn’t even ride a horse.
Maul’s day had gotten better with the arrival of his neighbor’s letter, and the hope of some influx of new information. Considering his father was bedridden, Maul was homebound, refusing to leave his father’s side for more than a meal or quick bath. He glanced at the pale bluish skin of his father, Lord Sidious’, wrinkled face; he had finally fallen asleep last night after drinking himself into a stupor to numb the pain of his injuries. Many of his father’s feverish incoherent ramblings were from his time as a senator of Parliament and didn’t make sense. He ignored them for the most part. The physician had left for the day and left Maul instructions for his care. Maul could make the help take care of him instead, but he wanted to be beside him. Besides the creeping suspicion that the physician had put into his mind about his father’s ill health was managing the estate after his father’s passing.
Maul never had reason to be concerned, he knew himself to be the eldest son and he would inherit all of Coruscant Palace. It was a monumental country house in Northern Metallos, so frequent rains pelted the manor’s outer stone walls. It calmed Maul to hear the rain, and it felt like home, even if it was drafty beyond reason.
Though Maul’s eyes were droopy he was interested in the information that his personal servant, Tarkin, brought for him, or rather what the letter said. He no longer thought to thank Tarkin for the services he’d done, it was more expected of Tarkin than anything, but Maul had grown used to Tarkin’s silent nod and constantly disapproving face. Tarkin took his leave and Maul used the letter opener provided on the tray.
His neighbors, the Naberrie’s, were suffering from the same snowy blanket that he was, just being down the road. Naboo cottage was smaller, but still held prestige in its age. After all, Aure and her sisters, Padme and Sola, had lived comfortably for years after their father became a landed gentleman. As far as Maul knew his rental properties were still giving the family a wealthy income, though they were distinct in that they were not considered aristocracy, not yet at least.
He assumed Padme would be expecting an engagement offer nearly daily now if she hadn’t already turned down many. Too often after her debut, wealthy gentlemen offered to take her hand in marriage and for one reason or another Padme declined. Maul assumed she was holding out for a larger title or perhaps more money. It was shameful that she hadn’t fulfilled her duties as a wife already. If there was one thing that upset Maul, it was failure.
Dear Maul,
You must wonder why I commenced so late in writing to you, however once I explain the nature of our unexpected guests perhaps you will have changed your mind. The evening prior to when I received your last note, our Uncle, and his subsequent family descended upon us! The beasts, I never much cared for the Desilijic-Tiure family and their behavior nor their arbitrary dietary needs that would suffice for a continent's worth of elephants.
However, they came bearing news for us so as to pass it along. For you see with their audience came the subject of someone they said you would know, a Mr. Vader. Uncle says that he has partnered with him for a short time prior to their argument with your father, on his estate near Tatooine.
Maul nearly crumpled the paper in his hands, he remembered the argument well. His family was accused of stealing away the youngest daughter of their family. It was through no fault of his family that Savage chose to abate the young girl’s fantasies of marriage. Maul sighed knowing that the death of his younger brother would haunt him, especially now more than ever with his father feverish and wasting away beside him. He turned the page over, returning to the letter once more, hoping to free his mind of the responsibilities that lay before him even for a moment.
I had every intention of writing you last night, but was too sleepy to do so after entertaining Uncle and his entourage, and it being bitterly cold I was only too happy to go to bed, which was not until past 10 o’clock. Early enough for you, I’m sure you will say, but then again you do not wake at 5 every morning I presume.
I think you deserve a scolding yourself for I have not heard from you since the aforementioned, not that the blizzard would be a hassle for the mail carrier. (God bless him I believe he made snow-shoes from our rackets as children!) I suppose you will say you waited for something to write about, but if you do, why I might wait for something till Doomsday.
The last I heard you were ‘enjoying’ your father’s nightly ramblings beside him. Tell me has he started on about his love affairs as a boy yet? I jest but I miss your father’s presence, I believe he favored me because I managed to settle you - at the very least for a moment or two. He believed we meshed well, however I still think of you as an abhorrent barely tolerable snob of course, just as you think I to be a dimwitted little church bell!
I again have avoided the topic I was originally writing about, that is that Uncle has told me that he’s sent for Mr. Vader’s presence. Obviously he won’t be available until after the snow clears. I should wish for you and your father to visit if he regains his strength but don’t tell him to rush.
Ever your friend,
Aure
Two pages of absolute dribble, that he read twice of course, searching for the meanings between the lines. Aure had been his friend since childhood, in ways that Padme and Sola could never be conceded to uphold. He often out-fought her in matches with sticks as children, and he stumbled over words she could easily pronounce. In all honesty her lack of tact and at times civility irritated him considerably. But he admired her candid attitude and social skills. Perhaps if he could socialize better he wouldn’t dwell so much on the things lost to the past. Maul had often found himself invited to social affairs, but company would grow dull to him quickly. Soon after arriving he felt himself wanting to leave, especially once he’d been introduced to too many willing dance partners.
Dancing: a chore in itself. Fancy footwork was a thing to be commended but Maul found himself looking away to spaces in the home to gaze at artifacts or even just to get out of a room much too warm for its own good. He was happy to oblige for food, but any other reasons exasperated him beyond belief. The majority of people at these social affairs were too simple minded to understand the intricacies of war or even comprehend battle the way he did. Maul crossed the room going to his writing desk with the intention of reply. The chair creaked with the lack of weightlessness forced upon the seat.
Maul plucked his black pen from its hold and removed the stopper from his ink well. A birthday gift from Aure, the ink well was bronze, and shaped so that David from the Bible was resting his foot upon the giant Goliath’s head, wherein he dipped his pen for ink. He cherished the thoughtfulness behind such a practical gift. Not only for the sheer use of it, but also when he replaced the pen, the well now had a proper place for David’s spear.
“Maul...” he heard his father’s withered voice quietly wheeze. He looked over his shoulder to find his father attempting to sit up. Maul crossed the room in a few strides and sat in the chair he had moved beside his father’s bed. His father laid back down, now seeing Maul nearby.
“Yes father?” Maul watched his father’s spotted wrinkled hand reach and pull at his sleeve weakly.
“Bring me your brother,” his voice croaked. Maul sat close, though the stench of infection from his father’s wound wafting through the silken blankets. Maul sat, unaffected by his father’s smell; he would do anything for his father, but he could not bring back the dead.
“Savage died last year - from Typhus. And Feral died from Cholera when he was four. There is only two now, you and I, father.”
“No, there is another,”
Maul frowned. “No. There are no others,”
“Before you were born, before your mother and I were together. I was in love.” Maul stopped himself from rolling his eyes. Aure was not far off from her prods at sarcasm in her letter. He had respect for his father, but had no interest in romance. “She died in childbirth, and though she didn’t have status, Miss Skywalker. I wish for you to find my son, Maul.”
“If what you say is true, I will find him quickly,” Maul knew his tone was curt, but he tried to hide all expression from his face. He watched his father’s turn towards him, wheezing for a few moments before opening his mouth shakily. Maul met his gaze with absolute indifference.
“Does this fuel your anger for me Maul?” Maul said nothing. His father had spoke kinder of his unknown son more than he had ever done for Maul. He could feel a stab of jealousy rise in his cheeks. A son who had not faithfully fulfilled his duty to be beside his father and learn from him. A son, who was anything but.
Maul hesitated to reply to his father. This unknown son, was his elder - the heir to the estate. Maul felt his face contort slightly, again his rage built up inside. He balled his fists that rested in his lap to control himself. It wasn’t as though he necessarily yearned for his father’s estate, but he knew it was to be his destiny and had prepared for it. To know that his home could be stolen from him by a stranger, terrified him. His mother, Lady Talzin’s ancestral home stolen by the brother whom he never met.
“Young fool...only now, at the end, do you understand?”
“You are not dead yet father,” Maul’s expression remained unchanged.
“Yet I feel it is not far off,”