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Ezra had always had a complicated relationship with his voice.
He hadn’t even started talking until he was four years old. Once he started, he’d just wanted to stop. He spoke too slowly or too quietly or not enough. He said the wrong things and used the wrong tone. No matter how hard he tried, he just couldn’t use his voice right. Things had only gotten worse after he lost his parents. People saw his silence and stuttering and long pauses as a sign that he was an easy target.
All his voice had ever done was get him into trouble. But it was still his.
At least it had been, until Maul had taken it away.
Ezra whimpered as Maul’s hand closed lightly around his neck. A tingling, burning feeling spread through his throat. As Maul released him, a faint blue light trailed from Ezra’s neck to Maul’s hand. The light hovered over Maul’s palm for a moment before disappearing into his skin.
Ezra opened his mouth, trying to ask what Maul had done to him. But no sound came out. Ezra’s eyes widened as he frantically tried to force the words from his throat. Still, there was nothing.
With a cold, painful clarity, Ezra realized what Maul had done.
Please, he thought, staring desperately up at Maul, hoping the man would somehow understand him. I’m sorry. Please, just give it back.
“You brought this on yourself, Ezra,” Maul said. “You can have this back when you’ve learned your lesson.”
Ezra curled up even tighter where he lay on his bed, hugging his knees against his chest. Since that day, he’d spent almost every moment that Maul didn’t need him hidden away in his room. If he stayed out of Maul’s way and didn’t cause any more trouble, he might get his voice back sooner than he would otherwise.
But nearly a month had passed since Maul had taken his voice. So far, Maul hadn’t given any indication of when this punishment would end, or if it ever would.
It wasn’t just his power of speech that was gone. He couldn’t make any noise at all. Even before he could talk, he’d never been this silent. He’d always had some way to reach out. Now, he had nothing. Writing, sign language, touch, anything else he could use to talk to anyone, would only get him in more trouble. The whole point of this was to make sure he couldn’t communicate, after all.
Not for the first time, Ezra found himself wondering what would happen if Maul never gave his voice back. Maul was the only person who knew him well enough to understand him if he couldn’t speak. If he ever wanted to communicate with another person again, he’d have to find a new way.
Ezra quickly brushed away a tear that leaked from the corner of his eye. He didn't know that that would happen. Maul had said he’d get his voice back, and Maul had never lied to him before.
But Ezra had lied. It was the whole reason he was in this mess to begin with. Maybe that was part of his punishment; waiting for an end to it that would never come, clinging to Maul's word even though it wasn't true. And it wasn’t like he didn’t deserve it. Maul had taken him in and given him a home when he had no one, and Ezra had repaid him by being a thief and a traitor and a liar.
Ezra’s fingers lightly traced the front of his neck, as if he could feel an empty space where his voice used to live. But nothing felt any different. There was no injury, no pain. He just couldn’t make a sound.
Rolling onto his back, Ezra stared up at the ceiling with a silent sigh. He wished Maul would just tell him if he was never planning to give his voice back. For years, he’d been unable to speak, and he’d found other ways. At least this way, he knew he wouldn’t get punished for staying quiet like he had as a kid. And now that he was under Maul’s protection, he didn’t have to worry about people seeing him as an easy target. Maul was a terrifying enough figure among the magic-users of this city that it was rare anyone would try to mess with him. Maybe not getting his voice back wouldn’t be so bad.
Just thinking it made Ezra feel sick to his stomach. Sure, he knew he could live without talking, but that didn’t actually make this feel any better. He still felt like a piece of him had been ripped away. He still felt broken. Violated. No matter how wrong everyone always said he was, his voice was his, and now he didn’t know if he would ever get it back.
Ezra didn’t know how long he lay there, staring blankly at the ceiling, waiting for Maul to either come into the room or summon him with that sharp tug at their soul bond. At long last, he heard the distant sound of footsteps approaching the door. He sat up quickly, wiping his eyes to make sure no tears still clung to his skin. Crying only ever made things worse.
His fingers curled around the edge of the bed as Maul entered the room. Ezra kept his gaze fixed on the floor as Maul approached, the floorboards creaking under his steps until he stopped directly in front of Ezra. At first, Maul said nothing, but Ezra could feel the man’s eyes on him, observing him, feel the thoughts turning inside his head like gears.
“Do you think you’ve learned your lesson?” Maul asked.
Ezra nodded quickly. His heart hammered as he looked up at Maul, silently pleading. Desperation clawed at the inside of his chest as Maul held out a hand, the swirling blue light rising from his palm to hover above it.
“And do you promise never to lie to me again?”
Ezra nodded again. His eyes stayed fixed on that blue light. He wanted to reach out and grab it, rip it away from Maul, pull it back into himself and hide it so it could never be taken from him again. But that would just mean getting himself in more trouble for something he didn’t know would work, anyway.
“Very well,” Maul said. Seeing Maul’s hand move toward him, Ezra immediately tilted his head back slightly, making his neck more accessible.
Maul had barely touched Ezra’s throat when the light snapped toward it like a scrap of metal drawn toward a powerful magnet. The light knew where it really belonged and wanted to return just as much as Ezra wanted it back.
That hand pulled away as the light sank into Ezra’s skin. An unsettling warmth spread from the point of contact, twisting together and forming a lump in his throat.
Slowly, Ezra opened his mouth. He clenched his shaking hands together on his lap. Please work, he thought. Please, please don’t be a trick.
“Th-thank you.”
His voice was barely more than a whisper, but it was there. It was back and he could use it. He looked down again as tears pricked at the corners of his eyes, not wanting Maul to see them.
A hand grabbed his arm and Ezra gasped as Maul yanked him to his feet. Maul’s other hand took hold of his jaw, forcing him to look up into the man’s eyes.
“If you ever lie to me again,” Maul hissed, his hand tightening around Ezra’s arm, “you won’t get off so easy. Understood?”
“Yes,” Ezra said, the word coming out as a frightened squeak. “I-I’m sorry.”
Maul released Ezra, shoving him back, before he turned and left the room. As Ezra collapsed back onto the edge of the bed, his breath started coming in short gasps. He rested his elbows on his knees, pressing his hands over his eyes and letting his nails dig into the edge of his scalp. He held his breath for a moment, trying to calm himself down.
He didn’t do anything, he told himself. You’re okay. You’re not hurt.
Slowly, his heart returned to normal and his hands stopped shaking. Ezra straightened up, wiping the back of his hand across his eyes once more. He rubbed the sore spot on his arm where Maul had grabbed him. Hopefully he wouldn’t end up with any bruises.
His hand moved from his arm to his throat. Just like before, it didn’t feel any different. But his voice was back now.
And as long as he was good, he would never lose it again.