Chapter Text
“Isn’t he magnificent?”
Obi-Wan glanced up from the book in his lap, written in the flowery dialect of the Naboo. He’d spent the past month in the Lake Country, learning the language, and he was already reading at a remedial level.
His father was standing with his back turned, leaning against an arched window, staring out into the garden. Obi-Wan followed his gaze, frowning at the sight of the red-and-black tattooed Zabrak. At some point in the day, Maul had found the time to fashion a primitive bow and arrow, and he was practicing with it on the front lawn of the Estate, prowling the tall reedy grass and shooting at anything that moved. The Lake Country was teeming with wildlife, so there was no shortage of game.
The Zabrak had only arrived yesterday, and already he was proving to be a disruption. He was on leave from the Orsis Academy - a military school of some sort - but he still maintained a fierce training regiment, waking up at the break of dawn to swim laps in the lake.
Obi-Wan had slept in late this morning, and he suddenly felt very lazy by comparison. This was accompanied by a stirring of jealously, listening to his father wax on about the Zabrak: “So striking. And such a fearsome warrior! He’s saved my life more than once. Truly, I couldn’t ask for a better protector.”
Obi-Wan shut the book with a snap. He wanted to argue - You have me! I’m your protector. Not Maul - but he stopped himself. He had no reason to be jealous of Maul. If anything, he should be grateful to the Zabrak for keeping his father safe. Besides, Maul wasn’t another son he needed to compete with. His father had made that very clear.
The Zabrak had been introduced to Obi-Wan as the senator’s ‘ward’. Obi-Wan knew little of Maul’s personal history, only that he was from the war-torn planet of Dathomir, where Palpatine had rescued him from a lifetime of slavey. And perhaps this explained Maul’s subservient behavior. He refused to look Obi-Wan in the eye, and spoke only when spoken to.
“He’s not very talkative, is he?” Obi-Wan remarked from his seat on the couch. Maul had barely uttered more than two words at last night’s dinner. He seemed terrified to speak out of line or break decorum.
The senator laughed lightly, turning away from the window. He shook his head. “No. Maul is a simple creature. We compliment each other well. I’ve never been one for swordsmanship, myself.”
Obi-Wan pointedly cleared his throat. “I happen know a thing or two about swordsmanship,” he said, trying not to sound too boastful.
“Yes…” The senator started towards him, stroking his cleft chin in thought. “In fact, I’ve been meaning to ask you..." He trailed off for a moment, then said, "Maul is rather curious about you, did you know?”
Obi-Wan shrugged. “I did catch him staring at me a few times.” He had caught Maul’s eye last night, but the Zabrak was always quick to avert his gaze. “I was beginning to wonder if I had something stuck in my teeth.”
“Forgive him. He’s never met a Jedi before.”
“Well, I’m not a Jedi,” Obi-Wan said, tugging on his newly pierced ear. “Not anymore.” He certainly didn’t look like a Jedi, dressed in an ornate frock coat, his hair pinned back with a jeweled clip. He looked like a spoiled princeling. House Palpatine was among the Royal houses of Naboo, and his father insisted he dress the part.
“But you were trained in the Jedi arts,” the senator pointed out. “I wonder if you might indulge him? As a personal favor to me.”
“Indulge him?”
“He wants to test himself against a Jedi,” the senator explained, lowering himself to sit beside Obi-Wan.
Obi-Wan almost dropped the leather-bound book he was holding. “He wants to fight me?”
“You don’t have to,” Palpatine said in a hushed voice. “He is rather fearsome, I admit. And I wouldn’t want you to get hurt.” He reached out to tuck a wayward strand of hair behind the boy’s ear.
Obi-Wan sat perfectly still. “I’m not afraid of Maul,” he said, struggling to keep his voice even, incensed at the very thought. He’d trained under some of the most illustrious Jedi Masters in galactic history! And even if he wasn’t the greatest duelist, he was more than a match for Maul.
“Good,” the senator said brightly. He sat back, clasping his hands in his lap. “It’s settled then. You’ll have to use a sparring sword, of course. I hope that’s not too much of an inconvenience. After all, it’s not as if I have a spare lightsaber just lying around.” His smiled widened. “Have you ever used a sparring sword before? Or do the Jedi focus solely on lightsaber combat?”
“We’re trained to be proficient in all forms of combat,” Obi-Wan replied smoothly. But inwardly he was worried. It had been years since he’d picked up a sparring sword.
As it turned out, his skills were a tad rusty. He’d grown so accustomed to the fluid grace of lightsaber combat. The brute sparring sword felt heavy and unwieldy in his hand, and his muscles were already beginning to burn from the strain. He was slowing down. He’d spent the past mouth lazing around his father’s Estate, when he should have been training, honing his skills.
Maul had spent every waking moment practicing, and it showed. The Zabrak was in peak physical condition, swinging a double-bladed staff, which he had evidently built for himself. He wielded it with expert speed and precision, staggering Obi-Wan under the strength of his blows.
As a Padawan, Obi-Wan’s fighting style had been criticized as “overly aggressive”, but that was no longer the case. He was off-balance, falling back into his Soresu stance, deflecting and parrying one furious blow after another. He would tire himself out at this rate. Soresu was meant to outlast any opponent, but the Zabrak’s stamina was inhuman, and his attacks were truly vicious. Was he always this battle-crazed, or was he just showing off for the senator?
The two boys were fighting in the courtyard, Palpatine casually observing from the balcony above. Obi-Wan grit his teeth. He was not about to lose in front of his father. Evidently, Maul was of a similar mind. The Zabrak doggedly pressed his advantage, backing Obi-Wan into a corner. He snarled, amber eyes flashing in triumph as he raised his staff for the final blow.
Obi-Wan froze. In the interest of fighting fair, he had - thus far - refrained from using the Force. Now all thoughts of “fairness” fled his mind, and he instinctively lashed out with a powerful Force push, hurling Maul back across the courtyard and into a wrought iron trellis.
He staggered to his feet, breathing heavily, as Maul violently thrashed to free himself from the the tangled vines. The Zabrak let out a demonic howl. He charged at Obi-Wan, eyes blazing, blood streaking from a deep gash on his forehead.
“Maul.” The cold voice from above stopped the Zabrak in his tracks. “That’s enough of that.” Both of the combatants turned, glancing up in unison. The senator was standing by the rail of the baloney, idly drumming his fingers on the banister. For a long moment he said nothing, and all that could be heard was the sound of ragged breathing coming from below. Then he dismissed Maul with a wave. “Go wash up, the pair of you,” he said, nodding to Obi-Wan. The boy watched as he abruptly turned, retreating back into his study without a second glance.
“Father,” Obi-Wan began, tentatively, “has Maul ever shown any signs of being Force-sensitive?” He was thinking back on their duel. He’d been ruminating on it all afternoon. Now it was late in the evening, and he was traipsing behind the senator, accompanying the man on his nightly stroll through the hedge garden.
Palpatine slowed to a stop. “What makes you say that?” He asked with a shy, sidelong glance, his eyes half-lidded in the pale moonlight.
A fog was beginning to roll in off the lake. Obi-Wan crossed his arms, shivering. His hair was still damp from his bath. It hung loose around his face. “His strength, his speed… Its unnatural.”
The senator tilted his head in thought. “Zabraks are naturally more athletic,” he said with a faint shrug.
“Yes, I’m well aware,” Obi-Wan huffed.
His father smirked, reaching out to pluck a milky white blossom from an overhanging tree branch. “What did you think of Maul’s fighting prowess?” He asked lightly, twirling the blossom by the stem.
“He’s better than me,” Obi-Wan said after a pause. Although it galled him to admit this. He rubbed the back of his neck and stared down at the buckles on his shoes.
The senator raised a brow. “You think so?”
“You saw… I could barely hold my own…”
“You were holding back,” came the simple response. Obi-Wan opened his mouth to protest, but the senator held up a hand. “You refrained from using the Force. Why? You’re a Force-user. So why not use it?”
Obi-Wan didn’t argue that point. He had refrained from using the Force, but only out of a sense of fairness. “What I mean to say is, Maul is a much better fighter-“
His father sighed. “Maul is a primitive creature, and swords are primitive tools. You should focus on honing your skill in the Force.”
But Obi-Wan was adamant. “I shouldn’t need to rely on the Force to win a duel,” he said stubbornly.
“Its not good to be overly reliant on anything,” his father said in agreement. “But that doesn’t mean you should deny your true nature. The Force is a part of you - as it is a part of me,” he added softly.
Obi-Wan exhaled a sharp breath. Was that a confession? He stared at the senator, as if seeing him for the first time. “Father, are you…? Can you feel the Force as well?” It made sense. Force-sensitivity was often genetic, and the senator was eerily perceptive at times.
In answer to his son’s question, the senator unfurled his hand and gracefully levitated the small white blossom. It hung in the air, absolutely still, for a surreal moment, and then fell back into his waiting palm. Obi-Wan was too stunned to speak.
“You must promise not to say anything,” his father whispered, grasping Obi-Wan by the arm and pulling him deeper into the moonlit garden.
“I promise,” Obi-Wan said numbly. He almost stumbled over his feet. “But why? Why keep it a secret?”
The senator let out a pained sigh. He pressed a hand to his forehead. “My father, Cosinga, used to frighten me with stories about the Jedi. He said they would steal me from my bed, unless I kept it a secret.”
“You’re not a child anymore,” Obi-Wan said, gently teasing.
“No. But his advice was sound. People fear what they don’t understand, and rightly so. Do you think the people of Naboo would want me as their representative, if they knew the truth?” Maybe? Obi-Wan wasn’t sure. “I could be charged with an ethics violation,” Palpatine said in harried tone. “Of using the Force to manipulate my political rivals. And then there’s the Jedi-“
Obi-Wan interrupted him, unable to hide the hurt in his voice. “But why didn’t you tell me?”
“I wanted to,” his father said with a sad smile. “But I was afraid you wouldn’t trust me.”
“Why wouldn’t I trust you? I’ve lived around Force-sensitives my entire life. I am Force-sensitive, in case you hadn’t noticed.”
“You’ve lived around Jedi.”
Obi-Wan paused. There it was again. The way his father almost sneered the word “Jedi”.
“Do you not like the Jedi?” Obi-Wan asked, curious.
The senator laced their arms together, leaning against the boy as they resumed their leisurely stroll through the garden. “I like you, and you’re a Jedi,” he said, dodging the question.
Obi-Wan stopped short. “That’s not an answer.”
Palpatine sighed in defeat. “Fine,” he bit out. “It’s not that I don’t like them. But my own personal philosophy is intrinsically at odds with the Jedi.” His smile became strained. “And that’s really all I have to say about it.”