Chapter Text
Days seem sometimes as if they'll never end
Sun digs its heels to taunt you
But after sunlit days, one thing stays the same
Rises the moon
Maul remembered plains of red ground, a maroon sky, and a scarlet moon. It was always red.
He remembered a broken and small thing, with stomachs growling at every minute and fear encasing their hearts. His older sister, whose skin was the same red as his and his eyes the shade of honey copper, A sickly brother, whose weakened body fails him and whose lungs are left gasping for breath that may not come, A baby brother, the biggest of his age, who adored his older siblings, even with the little time he knew he had to live. He remembered the ribbon threaded through his horns and the music with dancing done in alleys and in the darkest hours of the night. He remembered hiding in the thick overhanging trees, digging his heels into the black wood to reach the beautiful magenta birds. Maul remembered the tang of salt and the juicy meat, the tasteless fruit that could only be eaten piece by piece, and the heat on his cheeks from the fire that burned as hot as the spice in his mouth.
Maul missed the planet drowned in red, the broken family, the ribbons threaded through his horns, the dancing, and the music. However, Maul missed most of all the light in his siblings. Now he can only box it in-chained under a blanket of darkness, hoping desperately one day, if only for a minute or two, he can let the chains go. That Maul can let the light soothe him, burn him and his blackened sick skin, that the whispered words from The Force of Soon, safe, comfort, family, will come true, even if it’s in his last breath, his last heartbeat. Maul wants more than he should, wants what his master would never give him-Maul never dares tell another soul. No, not after the boy with lilac skin and tentacles.
Maul sees horrors and does horrible things. Maul hurts those undeserving of it and scrubs the blood off his hands until they are raw and aching. Maul cries silently, tears streaking down his cheeks and over his growing black markings, listening to the whispers of the Force murmuring at the edge of his mind. He feels the connection with his siblings weaken and wane every day and screams. One day, he did something terrible. He was sure of it, but the praise was oh so confusing. He painted the academy in red, with no survivors. Master was pleased, but Maul was confused, and soon Maul was being sent on more bloody missions and tests.
Maul was scared to sleep, to see lifeless bodies—but Maul was afraid of the awareness being awake brought, the white noise, and his night vision. His mind ran wild with terror. Maul hears voices leering, laughing through broken necks and blood-filled mouths.
Maul begs to be free, cries silently (he learned from jagged scars to always be silent), and wills the force to free him. The Force only hushes him, lulls him to sleep, and shows him visions of a planet filled with sentients of all kinds dressed in creamy robes. Young running through blades of grass, unnumbered men in armour with identical faces marked with laugh lines. And he sleeps, fuzzy and warm inside, with hope sparking in his chest and light coaxing the dark blanket to rest.
Days fade into a watercolour blur
Memories swim and haunt you
But look into the lake, shimmering like smoke
Rises the moon