Actions

Work Header

meeting of chance (and greed)

Work Text:

Obi-wan tugged loose feathers out and let them fall over the edge of the bed. He idly watched them fall out of sight, and thought. About the past, his position, anything that crossed his mind. His mind was stuck on the wedding tomorrow.

His wedding.

Obi-wan wasn't thrilled, but he wasn't angry. He felt calm about it considering he was being married to the Emperor's favored prince. One that was known for his violent tendencies and short temper. Distantly he worried for his own safety, but dismissed it. 

He wondered why the Emperor chose him to marry his favored prince. He was one of many stewjonian princes gifted with Wings. He wasn't special, just a part of the crowd. Was it his family's influence as House of the Guard, the only family that protected the nearby system's? Maybe the Emperor want to hold even tighter influence over mid-rim systems?

In the end it doesn't matter. He was being married off tomorrow whether he wanted to be, or not. Just another pawn in the grand scheme of things.

 


 

Obi-wan tugged uselessly at the tight collar of his traditional stewjoni robes. He was glad to have been allowed to wear his own cultures wedding robes, over dathomir's. He appreciated the familiarity of them. He glanced to the side and reminded himself that he wasn't alone today.

His father was here to see him off, no matter how much Qui-gon wanted to rebel. Qui-gon had always wanted him to marry someone he was truly in love with, for reasons similar to his own. Qui-gon had married the love of his life, Tahl. Tahl had died only three years previous. 

But Qui-gon's hopes were in vain. Obi-wan had fallen under the Emperor's eye and would not be able to escape it now that he had seen him and some unknown value.

Obi-wan turned to look at the alter at the head of the room, where dathomirian wedding rites would take place. He tried to pick out the objects on the table but failed to identify them. He instead focused on what he'd be doing during the ceremony.

Maul would take his place to the left of the table, a non-verbal dominance declaration. Obi-wan would place himself on the right, the generally assumed weaker position.

Next, Maul would grab the half filled goblet of wine, and cut his palm, dripping some of his blood in the goblet, and would then pass it to Obi-wan to do the same. The overseer would them say some words in blank and then they would each take sips from the goblet, Obi-wan first.

After they both had drained the goblet, they would clasp their bleeding palms together and say the traditional vows.

After the vows were said, the married couple would then go off to their shared room and consummate their marriage.

Obi-wan was not excited, but he was prepared.

The sudden silence of the few gathered alerted him to something happening. He looked up and scanned the crowd, and then paled. The Emperor was here. Of course he would be, this was the wedding of his favored prince. Obi-wan tugged at the slits in the back of his robes, they laid uncomfortably on his wings (no they didn't). He clenched his hand and let it fall, and looked to his father for reassurance.

Qui-gon laid his hand on Obi-wan's shoulder and smiled grimly. Qui-gon's wings spread out to pseudo-shelter him and his son from the eavesdroppers. There were no words he could offer that wouldn't sound utterly morbid or out of place. Anything he could say now would only unsettle Obi-wan, because he had no idea what was in store for Obi-wan. Not now, now that he was at the mercy of the Emperor and his favored prince.

So Qui-gon smiled helplessly, and offered to help Obi-wan go over his vows again.

 


 

Maul prowled the halls looking for something to tear apart. He was furious and at the same time utterly furious. He was being forced into a sham of a marriage with a pathetic stewjoni prince, by his mentor. While he understood the value of the prince, he was still pissed to be forced into a marriage. All so his mentor could strengthen his grasp over the mid-rim planets.

Why his mentor decided to use him to do that, he couldn't decipher. Probably some hidden motive that wouldn't come to fruition until the stewjoni prince and him had adopted two kids to keep appearances, ten years later.

Maul almost wanted to call off this wedding. He cringed two seconds later when he imagined his mentor's reaction. His mentor was not know for his kindness.

A chime rang through the building. He growled and stalked towards the wedding hall. He glared at any servant that crossed his path.

He strode into the hall and took his place by the alter. He glanced over the assorted items on the table, ceremonial knife, goblet,a pitcher of wine, and two handkerchiefs. All arranged in order of use. Once he was sure they were in their proper places, he turned to look at the right entrance.

He was not disappointed with what he saw. The stewjoni prince was decked out in pale blues that only enhanced his ginger hair. His skin was lightly tanned, for a humanoid. His wings were wide, and sweeping. Well, if nothing else, the stewjoni prince was attractive.

Maul watched his face, and saw no indecision, just firm resolve. He shifted to face where the stewjoni prince would stand. It took a few minutes for him to settle across from him. Once he was situated, Maul grabbed the knife and quickly slit the palm of his hand and grabbed the pre-filled goblet of wine. Maul clenched his hand and watched the blood dribble from the cut.

Once enough had fallen in, he took his hand away and passed the knife first to the stewjoni prince, and then the goblet. He idly watched him wince as he cut his palm. Not used to pain.

Once he finished dripping his blood into the goblet, he handed the goblet to the Mother and they both became entranced as she stated words in a obscured language that would take years to learn. They both snapped out of the trance when she handed the goblet back to the stewjoni prince.

Maul watched him with fascination as he hardly hesitated and gulped down his half of the drink. Most sentients would've hesitated to drink blood, be it their own or another's. Maul snorted and took the goblet from him.  He quickly drank the blood wine and set the empty goblet down on the table.

Maul stuck his still bleeding hand out to the stewjoni prince and waited for him to grab his steadily bleeding hand. He was quick to grasp it and in unison they chanted the vows that would bind them together until one of them died. They both didn't notice the green mist surrounding them, until it had faded back down to wisps.

"And so be it." The Mother clapped her hands and the mist disappeared entirely. Maul was the first to let go and grab a handkerchief. He grabbed the stewjoni prince's bleeding hand and wrapped it quickly. The stewjoni price grabbed the other handkerchief and carefully wrapped his hand.

Maul tilted his head at the gentleness he was shown. That was unusual. He turned to watch his mentor, sitting on the only bench in the room. His mentor was sandwiched by the stewjoni king and his mentor's right hand, Tarkin. Maul scowled at him.

The stewjoni prince made an indecipherable noise, Maul looked at him out of the corner of his eye. He was looking at his father, his expression the textbook definition of reluctant acceptance. Maul wanted to scoff.

"Congratulations, my boy. Today is a momentous day for you." His mentor stood to greet him, promises and threats leaked from beneath his deep cowl. His mentor smiled. Maul shivered and looked away. No matter how innocent his mentor looked, he knew the truth.

His mentor grabbed his hands and squeezed them. "Now all that's left, is for you to consummate your marriage. Good luck." Maul wanted to yank his hands away.  He nods instead.

"Yes mentor." His mentor squeezed his fingers painfully, aware of his insolence. His mentor let his hands fall. With a meaningful look, his mentor sweeps out of the room Tarkin with him.

Leaving him with the stewjoni prince and his father. The two exchange quiet words that he can't make out, and doesn't want to. Probably something whiny and dull about how he'll make it through this marriage, and how he won't hurt him.

Maul doesn't plan on marking up the prince in those ways. Maul is pulled from his fantasy when the father leaves. The prince doesn't seem to know what to do next.

Maul snorts and strolls out of the hall. He smirks when he hears the prince follow.

"Excuse me, but do you know where you're going?" At least the prince doesn't seem to be afraid of him. Maul doesn't know if he could deal with a husband that shied away from him. Fear is great, except when it comes from the people that deal with him daily. Then it's just annoying.

"Nope." The prince's force signature rises and almost bursts. But the prince seems to know something about controlling his temper. He's almost disappointed.

A grumble comes from the prince, but eventually he decides to take the lead. Maul's satisfied when the prince leads them into a freshly prepped room. Their shared quarters.

"So how are we going to do this?" Maul raises a brow at the prince's tone. It's straight forward, but shy.

"You're not a virgin are you?" Maul starts taking his clothes off, giving the prince an eyeful.

"Of course not." The prince rolled his eyes. He started with his boots and then moved onto his cuff links.

"Then you have nothing to worry about."