Chapter 29: Mad Crowns
21 BBY, Lotho Minor
Madness had been a long ally to Maul, for one’s mind could only hold so much hatred and rage before it succumbed to it. Yet Maul was not anyone, was he not? He was strong. He was powerful. Had been… He had been abandoned. Cast aside by his master, forgotten by Mother Talzin, left to rot, in the ruins…
But now, he was the hunter… a prowler in the darkness… yes…
They came earlier, men of metal, droids of flesh. He had seen them, walking, fighting, dying… They were weak, very weak, and yet, he was weaker still… His master would punish him for that. He punished him for anything, for there was no mercy in this dark, unforgiving galaxy… The master who abandoned him. He shivered at the memory of it.
With every death, he grew stronger… With every death, he grew faster… With every death, he reclaimed something that had been missing from him…
Yet, that was when he saw it… saw him… The glowing blue that took it all from him… The glowing blue that he battled against… The glowing green that took everything from him…
Jedi!
KENOBI!
He lurked and attacked his fated enemy, stabbing him in the back, just as he should have, only to realise that a man was there, staring at him with curiosity and no fear, “Well, isn’t that interesting?”
He could not feel the man. Why could he not feel the man? He could feel everyone but not him… not him… Did that mean that he was weak?
What was he? And so, Maul asked, “Are… you… Jedi?”
Maul could feel the bird on his shoulder, and it was strong, very strong. If the bird was protecting him, then he was not prey…
The man hummed and answered with a question of his own, “Do I look like a Jedi?”
He looked at the human. He was not wearing their robes… He was not like them, not like the Jedi.
The man must have understood Maul as he didn’t insist, and instead walked forward, speaking up, “Well, aren’t you a specimen? An entire mechanism powered completely by hatred and rage, channelled through the Force. I’ve seen it before, back on Tython, but it had been very delicate. This, on the other hand, is raw, a hatred so strong, an anger so volatile, that kept you alive, that created this body from a bunch of scraps, just because you believed it could. How Fascinating. Still, I don’t understand why you chose to look like a spider of all things.”
“I … chose… NOTHING!” Maul bellowed.
The man shook his head, “And yet, you did. The depths of the mind are a fascinating subject, aren’t they? And so much darkness, channelled all the time just to stay alive, just to move, it would drive anyone… mad.”
Maul felt himself fidget as the man walked towards him more. He would not allow him to approach. He would not allow anyone to approach. They would betray him… Everyone betrays him, as his master had…
There was no mercy!
The words rang into his head, drilled into him time and time again in blood and agony. Maul readied himself to attack. The bird’s strength did not stop him from acting this time, as the words repeated themselves in the back of his mind. His finger twitched. Then again, they were always twitching one day after another.
He was mighty… He was strong… He would be victorious.
He moved in blinding speed, ready to destroy his enemy, only for the man to simply look at him. Maul met the man’s eyes, and the world stopped.
DEATH!
It was only for a moment, and yet, he had seen it in the man’s eyes, felt it before it disappeared.
Maul’s eyes widened and stopped, halted before the man, before Death, ready to beg for mercy. He did not retreat. He did not run. He knew that it would come for him. It would always come for him.
He knelt and muttered, “Please…”
How could he have thought that this man was prey? He had a powerful servant, the bird, so the man must have been stronger still. After all, the strong ruled over the weak, and Maul was weak… so weak…
He saw Death raise its hand and move it towards his horned face. Maul closed his eyes; there was nothing that he could do against such power, and then, its finger touched his head.
Maul had expected darkness. Maul had expected Death. And yet, all he found was clarity and silence.
He let out a breath, and a dark smoke left him, dissipating in the air like mist, and Maul finally remembered who he was. The apprentice of the Dark Lord of the Sith, of the most powerful man in the galaxy. He remembered Naboo, the battle with the Jedi, Obi-Wan Kenobi cutting him in half. He felt his hatred soar at that, but it did not empower him, not as it had before, “What did you do to me?”
The man before him rolled his eyes, “Usually, people say thank you.”
Yes, he could think clearly for the first time in years. Had it truly been years since he came to this wretched world? No, that was not important, not compared to the man before him. He had many questions and needed many answers, and he had the most important one. “Did my master send you?”
Despite the hate he felt at his master for abandoning him, despite the fear he felt at being under his mercy once more, Maul felt a disgusting sliver of hope that he was not forgotten, that his service would be remembered.
It was a hope that was dashed when the man shook his head, “Sorry, I came here on a little expedition, of sorts, but I never expected to meet someone as interesting as you. Would you care to join me? I could certainly use the company, and I always found that talking with a fascinating stranger is one of life’s true delights.”
Maul looked at the man before him. He didn’t forget what he was, the power that had even eclipsed his rage and madness. He could not. One glance at the freakishly strong bird on the human’s shoulder made whatever illusions of choice disappear. This was a command, not an offer, and Maul had spent enough time with his master to know how to follow his commands.
He nodded, instinctively knowing not to speak unless commanded to do so, but then the human smiled widely, “Wonderful. I’m sure that we will get along famously. But first…”
Maul stiffened as the human raised his hand, before he felt himself being lifted in the air. The Zabrak closed his eyes, bracing himself for pain, for it was a very old companion during his time with his master, and yet it never came.
Instead, when he opened his eyes, he saw pieces of his metallic body falling to the ground, with what remained being turned into metallic legs, before he was lowered gently down. The Zabrak stumbled for a few moments before righting himself up, being used to the balance once more.
The man had a gleam in his eyes when he spoke up, “Much better, huh? Anyway, I realise that I didn’t introduce myself. I’m Harry, Harry Potter.”
Harry Potter. It was likely a pseudonym, a way to hide himself from the world, for them not to realise who he was, what he was. In many ways, his master was much the same, with his false name to bring comfort to the weak, to those who served him.
“Maul,” the Zabrak simply said.
“Very well, Maul,” Potter answered, as if trying out the word for the first time, “Let’s get to it then.”
The human walked forward, completely ignoring Maul, and the Zabrak hesitated for a moment before deciding to follow him. At least, he did until he looked at the corpse of the Jedi nearby. He did not know why a Jedi was on this wretched planet, but he did not care. All that mattered was that he was dead, and, more importantly, his Lightsabers.
He looked at the retreating man before walking towards the Lightsaber and picking it up. It felt good to have such a familiar weapon in his hands, even if it belonged to a Jedi. He knew that it wouldn’t do much to Potter should he attack him. How would one kill Death? But there was a certain reassurance having it nearby, and he would rather have that than none.
Quickly after, Maul sped up to follow Potter, who seemed to be guided by a necklace that he wore. It had a strange symbol on it, one of a circle cut in half inside a triangle. He hadn’t seen it before, but it felt significant in a way. Then again, the entire necklace was strange; the Zabrak could feel it in the Force, a certain humming that it emanated in the Force, becoming stronger as it neared its target.
Nevertheless, the man did not say a word, which prompted Maul to speak one of the many questions that he had, “Why did you help me?”
Potter seemed to have a wide smile at that, “I suppose it was curiosity. Your legs alone were fascinating. I hardly changed anything, you know. They were created by your subconscious. In your madness, you thought that you were nothing more than a beast, a hunter, a monster, and so, the Force followed your will, and your legs looked like that. But now, you remembered who you were, what you were, and all I needed was to give a little push, and you did the rest.”
That explained some things, as he could sense very little change in his lower limbs. It was still his darkness that empowered it, that gave it form, only it was rearranged to better suit him. Still, he found his mouth moving without meaning to, as he asked, “I sense that there is more to this.”
He quickly regretted speaking up, instinctively expecting Potter to react with anger at doubting him, but the man snorted, “Oh, there is. For one, the way that you kept yourself alive after being cut in half is impressive, but what is so fascinating is that there was a spark of sanity left that I could bring out in you after feeling nothing but hatred and rage for so many years. I wonder what gave you such focus that even madness refused to take hold.”
“Vengeance,” Maul immediately answered.
There was exactly one thing that had stayed inflexible, that was beyond even madness, and that was his vengeance. Only when he would achieve it would he feel whole, would he feel alive again.
Then Potter hummed, “Vengeance would keep one grounded, I suppose. But Vengeance against whom?”
KENOBI!
That had been what he had wanted to yell, wanted to scream for all of the galaxy to hear, for he hated the Jedi who had taken so much from him with a passion beyond words. He wished to see him suffer what he had, lose everything he held dear, just as Maul had.
However, before he could say anything, the sound of blaster fire spread in the distance and Potter raised his hand briefly, silencing him. They walked towards the sound, which incidentally was where Potter’s necklace seemed to guide them.
When they did, they were in a large clearing of scraps and junk, one where a battle took place, if one could call it even that. It faintly looked like some sort of shrine; a large pyramid made of pieces of scrap that was sleeker and shinier than the rest of the junk on this planet.
Not that it would stand for long, for there were battle droids with blasters in hand, firing at some primitive locals, who were trying in vain to fight back.
Junkers, the word came to him. The locals were Junkers. They were not a race, but a cult, one that foolishly thought that they could ascend to a higher state of existence by replacing their flesh with cybernetics that they scavenged from the scrap that covered this planet, all to join some kind of machine deity.
Most of them didn’t even have blasters and were fighting with metal staves and spears. They would die, just as the weak often did in this galaxy. At least, they would have, were it not for the man before him looking at them curiously.
Potter raised his hand towards Maul; his gaze locked onto where the Zabrak had hidden the Lightsaber that he had taken from the corpse of the dead Jedi.
He hesitated for a moment, and the human’s eyebrow rose slightly, making the Zabrak relent and give him the unignited Lightsaber. He saw the man smirk before throwing it in the middle of the clearing, the Lightsaber activating halfway through, and in the following few seconds, Maul witnessed a veritable carnage as the Lightsaber moved expertly, both of its glowing blades spinning, cutting down every droid.
They hadn’t even finished falling to the ground until the Lightsaber returned to Potter’s hand, which he handed back to Maul, “Much appreciated.”
Silence reigned in the entire clearing, as some of the droids still continued to fall, and in the meantime, Harry Potter walked forward into the clearing, while the surviving Junkers stared at him in complete silence, before one by one, they began to bow to him.
Potter ignored them and walked towards the pyramid in the middle of the clearing, and then used the Force to summon a large box near the top, which gently fell into his hands. The necklace that Potter was wearing almost seemed to float to reach it, before Potter put his hand on it, and it slumped down.
He did not say another word and walked out of the clearing, rejoining Maul once more, this time with the box in one of his hands. He turned to the Zabrak, gently putting his other hand on his shoulder, and asked, “You didn’t answer my question. Who is to be the victim of your vengeance, one that is so entrenched in your very soul?”
It was at this moment, looking at the man’s green eyes, that Maul came to a realisation of a sort.
He hated Obi-Wan Kenobi with every fibre in his body, but he had been an enemy combatant. Jedi and Sith had been enemies for tens of thousands of years. He would kill him, just as he would kill anyone, but if there was a single person that was to blame for what Maul had lost, it was the one who had abandoned him, who left him for dead, for so long.
His master.
He had been the one who had commanded him to go to Naboo, and he knew that his master’s foresight was the greatest in the entire galaxy. He would have surely known that he would be defeated, that he would die at the hands of the Jedi, and yet he had commanded him, nonetheless.
It had been Darth Sidious who had taken so much from him. Kenobi had been but the face, the illusion, of his vengeance, but his master was its heart, a truth that he had refused to accept, even in his madness.
And so, he spoke, his hatred and rage spreading around him, “My master. I shall have my vengeance against my master.”
For a fraction of a second, he saw a small, pleased smile on Harry Potter’s face, but it was gone as quickly as it appeared. Instead, he simply nodded and moved his attention towards the box in his hand, “Well, I’ve travelled for this… Let’s hope that it was worth it.”
The human then opened the box, and Maul felt his eyes widen in shock at that. For inside the box was a helmet, specifically, the helmet of a Mandalorian. However, this was no ordinary helmet, for Maul recognised it for what it was, especially when the man lifted out of the box, and the prize before him would send ripples across the Galaxy.
After all, Harry Potter was holding Mandalore’s mask in his hands.
AN: I had a lot of fun writing this chapter. As I said before, I’m still getting the hang of writing a Star Wars story, so bear with me if anything feels off.
This chapter probably didn't end up being as eventful as I'd planned it to be. I tried to show Maul's madness, at least at the start, before Harry helped clear his mind. I also wanted to show the shift in perspective, which Harry manipulated in him, essentially shifting all of his hatred towards Sidious instead of Obi-Wan. If you didn't notice it, there was a subtle application of soul magic involved, just before Maul got his epiphany, though I'm not sure it came out like I wanted it to. To be perfectly honest, I didn't have as much time as I'd have liked fine-tuning this chapter, so please let me know if something feels off.
As usual, I don’t mind rewriting this chapter depending on your feedback, so please let me know what you think and if you have any suggestions.