Chapter Text
Satine allowed her head to fall back against the wall behind her as her eyes slid shut. Her mind was racing with the urge to do something, but her current incapacitation made that impossible. She hadn't even been in the cell long before she started to grow restless, but so was the case when one found themselves overthrown by a traitorous bastard with the spine of a worm.
But dwelling on that wouldn't get her anywhere.
In fact, she couldn't think of anything that would. Every idea that crossed her mind was promptly shot down by the simple logic behind the realities of her situation.
Satine Kryze; Duchess of Mandalore, was trapped within the cells she herself designed to be impenetrable. The irony was not lost on her, but she was in no mood to even attempt to appreciate it.
She had resigned herself to spending the next few hours sitting in silence and devising a solid escape plan, but the world seemed to have other plans. It hadn't been more than five minutes later that a loud clang came from one of the cells on her left.
Swinging her head towards her door, Satine rose from her seat on the ground to investigate. She pressed her head to the glass in an attempt to peer around the corner and catch a glimpse of whatever had made such a noise. Had someone come for her already? She couldn't even imagine who would come to her aid, and that thought was perhaps more disheartening than she wanted to admit.
A body in Mandalorian armour was flung down the hall and landed in front of Satine's cell. She jumped back at the sudden arrival and whipped her head back in the direction it had come from. Still, her view was obstructed.
The man under the helmet groaned as he tried to push himself up off the ground, and Satine watched in shock as the man was lifted into the air, grasping at his throat. A horrific, high-pitched, gasping noise left his throat before the body dropped with a sickening crack that she could only hope wasn't his neck.
Satine hurried back to the glass and stared down at the body. The man lay silent and motionless on the other side of her cell, and she reached out a useless hand to press against it as if that simple action would wake him up.
A sudden foot stepped into view and Satine's eyes carried up the tall figure with yellow tattoos to find a pair of yellow eyes glaring back at her. Her breath caught in her throat as she took a step back from the glass. She knew those eyes. Perhaps not those ones in particular, but she had spent enough time of her life around Jedi to know what they meant.
"Savage," A voice called from behind the tall Sith. His head slowly moved away from her and Satine breathed a momentary sigh of relief at being out of the Sith's eyeline.
The owner of the voice arrived beside the Sith. He was shorter than the first man, but his tattoos and the horns upon his head were similar, albeit his markings were red. She was certain that she was looking at two Zabrak men from Dathomir, but she couldn't fathom what they would possibly be doing here on Mandalore.
She had a feeling this was somehow the work of Pre Vizsla and couldn't help the irritation spiking in her chest. Of course he would be stupid enough to believe he could manipulate the Sith and keep them captive. His ego and his arrogance had always been his fatal flaw, and somehow she doubted that the two Zabrak would leave Mandalore without making Vizsla regret his miscalculations. Satine had been unwilling to hunt him down and make him beg for his life, though the urge was certainly there as they both knew she was more than capable of it. The Sith weren't known for those same principles that kept her at bay. They would certainly make Vizsla pay.
Lost in her own thoughts, Satine's attention finally returned to the Sith standing on the other side of her cell. The yellow Zabrak had left, but the red one was staring at her with those same burning yellow eyes. The hate was palpable and it sent shivers all along her body. This man was significantly more terrifying than the other Zabrak.
"Brother," The taller Zabrak called from him to follow.
The red Zabrak didn't move, continuing to watch her like she was a puzzle he was so close to solving. Satine didn't dare shrink under his gaze, glaring right back with a defiance she didn't truly believe in. Her heart was hammering with the thought that she could end up like that guard on the floor with barely a flick of their wrist.
A slight smirk tugged at the corner of his lips as he finally looked away from her and followed his brother down the hall. Satine kept her eyes on him until he disappeared from her line of sight.
She didn't return to her seat for the next few minutes as she waited for something else to happen. She was met, however, with complete and utter silence. It was eerily quiet for the rest of the night, in fact. Somehow she knew that could only mean something terrible.
—
Satine could already feel the ache in her neck the next morning before she even opened her eyes. Should she ever manage to get out of her cell, she was determined to make the cells more comfortable for prisoners. She had no idea how truly awful the beds were, and she had spent over a year sleeping on the ground. Somehow that was more preferable.
Satine cracked an eye open and winced at the harsh lights overhead. The bare and bright room reflected the glare right back at her, but that wasn't what caught her attention.
Propped up lazily against the wall across from her was the red tattooed Zabrak she had seen the day before. Satine jolted up and sat back so quickly that she slammed her head against the wall. She winced and pressed her hand to the back of her head while her eyes, still muddled with sleep, tried to focus on the man across from her.
"I trust you slept well, my lady," He drawled, giving her an intense once over.
"How did you get in here?" She asked him, urging her voice to stay steady in spite of the fear laced adrenaline that was running through her veins.
"The door," He said it as if it were obvious. Which it was, but they both knew that wasn't what she was really asking.
"Right," Satine muttered dumbly, unsure of what else to say. She looked towards the door where a new guard was stationed outside. His armour was vaguely familiar, but she couldn't make it out from this angle.
"When was the last time you ate?" He asked, motioning to the mostly full tray on the ground near him.
"I don't know," Satine's brows knit together in confusion. "Yesterday morning perhaps."
"Hm," The Zabrak hummed in thought.
Satine waited for him to say something more, but when no words came she turned back to the guard. She knew that armour and if he would only turn around or move into sight she might be able to figure it out. The blues and greys of his beskar were painfully familiar.
"I imagine you will be happy to learn that Vizsla is no longer an issue," The Zabrak continued.
"What?" Satine tore her attention away from the guard.
"Vizsla," He repeated. "He is no concern anymore."
"No longer a..." Satine trailed off. "He's dead isn't he."
It wasn't so much a question. She knew Pre would be done for once the Sith reached him.
"Astute," The Zabrak mused. "You do not seem pleased."
"I do not relish the death of anyone," Satine defended herself. "Regardless of how they might desire to hurt me."
"An admirable thought, but rather foolish in practice," He crossed his arms over his chest. "It is that very weakness that landed you in this cell."
"And I imagine you know something about that," Satine tilted her head at him. "You worked with Pre, did you not?"
"Briefly, yes," The Zabrak admitted. "Though his petty issues with you are of no interest to me."
Satine let this sit with her for a minute. It didn't shock her to learn that he did not share Vizsla's passion in the ruling of Mandalore, but surely there was something he wanted here if he was willing to work with Pre.
"Who are you?" She asked him then, still unable to discern why he was so familiar to her.
"Of course, where are my manners," The Zabrak's face remained impassive. "I figured Kenobi would have told you something about me. I did kill his Master after all."
The breathe leaving her body halted in her throat. Of course she knew who he was. How could she not have figured it out sooner. The galaxy was not exactly brimming with Zabrak Sith Lords.
"Darth Maul," She whispered. "He killed you."
"And yet here I stand," Maul shrugged. "Though I admit, it is nice to know that word of me travels all the way out here."
"If infamy is what you desire," Satine acknowledges. "So what is it that the Sith want with Mandalore?"
"It is not the Sith you should fear," Maul narrowed his eyes at her, pushing himself off the wall to take a step closer to her.
He reached for his belt and pulled free a blade - the Darksaber. He ignited it and Satine shrinked back against the wall as he moved it slowly and lazily through the air, watching its light with awe.
"You recognise the blade, yes?" He asked. Satine could only nod. "Good, then I'm sure you understand how it came into my position and what that means."
A mild anger simmered in her chest with the way he spoke. Of course she knew what it meant, she wasn't an idiot. Who was he to speak to her culture and her people as if he had any idea of it. He was an outsider to the Mandalorian ways, and his ignorance would do him no favours.
"Mandalore will not accept an outside ruler," Satine raised her chin in an attempt to force a show of confidence. "Especially not one that wields the force."
"They will if they know what is good for them."
"Clearly you don't know much about my people," Satine risked a smug smile. "We are known for our compulsive defiance."
"Believe me, I am more than familiar," The blade vanished and he hooked it back onto his belt. "But they don't need to know any of that, do they. Your people are simply tools for my greater plans. You can be too, and I encourage it, if you wish to remain alive."
"If you think I would ever join you and your war then you are sorely mistaken," Satine glared, a wave of relief washing over her when he stepped back.
"I have no stakes in this war," He admitted. "My desires lie elsewhere. And I have no intention of forcing your people into this war. Not yet, anyway, and not as long as you behave."
"Behave?" Satine glared, disliking the patronising tone he continued to regard her with.
"What better way to keep you in line than to use the people you care so much about as collateral," Maul almost smiled. "Love is a weakness that will always be ones undoing, my lady. And your love for your people is incontrovertible."
"If you are concerned so much about my behaviour then why are you bothering to keep me alive?" She asked, more than a little afraid of the answer. "What use have I for these greater plans?"
Maul moved towards the door, and for a moment she feared that he wouldn't answer her. Just as it looked as though he might leave, he turned back to give her a final once over.
"Because, as I said, love is a weakness that can be exploited," Maul knocked a knuckle against the glass door of her cell and the guard opened it. "And you are a weakness of particular interest to me."
The door slid shut behind him as he left and Satine could only wonder what he meant by that. Part of her felt that she should be relieved that he didn't seem set on killing her, but somehow being used as a pawn sounded worse. At least death would be the end. Who knew what he had planned for her.
She certainly didn't want to find out.