until the chances are spent

by whimsical whispers (Kiyoko_Michi)

Summary:

Feral survives.

He survives the Nightsisters. Ventress. His brother’s hand around his throat. For a long time Feral isn’t sure surviving was a good thing. Even after Savage comes back for him, everything feels broken. Savage can barely even look at him, and Feral doesn’t know what to do.

Eventually, he gets a chance to run. And he’ll be damned if he doesn’t at least try to take his brother with him.

Notes:

This story was initially inspired by blackkat's wonderful fic Running with Lightning Feet. Before reading, I hadn't seen Clone Wars or heard of Darth Maul's brothers, and it's an amazing read if you haven't checked it out!

Chapter 1: Survival

The Nightsisters don’t let him die. Feral has never mistaken that for kindness.

He’s only a Nightbrother, after all. Disposable like the rest of his village. The Sisters decide he has some use left in him, so they take him from that ritual room after Savage breaks his neck. They bring him back.

Feral wakes surrounded by Sisters with his blood boiling in his veins. He wakes terrified and alone because Savage is already gone. That’s the worst part. Everything else—being taken and hurt and used—is just part of being a Nightbrother.

But they took his brother. They changed him, stole his mind, and Feral was helpless to stop them. He’s still helpless as the Sisters send him back to the village, alone and confused.

He stumbles as he gets off the transport, and Brother Viscus catches him before he falls. There’s other Brothers nearby, staring and whispering amongst themselves. Nightbrothers are taken and returned frequently, but not like this. Not quietly taken from the healers’ quarters after failing a Nightsister’s trial and returned the same way.

Feral shrinks under the weight of their curiosity, and he keeps his head down.

Wraith, a village Healer,  takes him by the shoulder and guides him back to the healers’ quarters. He checks the bindings on Feral’s ribs and prods at the blossoming bruises around his neck.

Feral flinches away from his hand, and he realizes he’s shaking. He remembers the feeling of Savage’s hand around his neck. The strange, cold edges of his mind when it had been so bright and familiar just hours before.

He hides his head in his hands, and he breaks.

---

Time passes. Feral stays in the village, and he survives. The Sisters don’t come back for him. There’s no information about Savage. Nothing at all.

He stays in the rooms he and Savage used to share, and he doesn’t touch his brother’s belongings. Traditionally, after thirty days gone, a Brother is considered dead. They hold a remembrance and give away belongings. A month comes and goes, and Feral just- He can’t.

This wasn’t a normal Choosing. Ventress was an Offworlder, looking for a champion not a mate, Maybe Savage is dead and Feral will never know, but maybe not. Maybe he’s still alive, and Feral can’t let him go. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

So, he waits, and he hopes. At night, he dreams about Savage being hurt or taken. Looking at him with those flat, empty eyes and reaching towards his neck-

He doesn’t sleep much anymore.

---

Months later, he’s alone when he senses Savage come into the outer edge of his range. Feral drops the basket he’d been holding and turns, desperately reaching back. It’s him. He’s sure it’s him, and he runs.

He’s in the opposite direction as the village, but Feral doesn’t hesitate. He isn’t thinking at all, and it feels like his head is full of static. His brother is alive, and Feral is so relieved it hurts, deep and aching in his chest.

Then he slips past some trees, and Savage comes into sight. Feral freezes.

For a moment, he’d forgotten what the Sisters had done. How they’d changed his brother. Savage stands head and shoulders taller than him now, with long, scraggly horns. Even his markings sit differently across his skin, and his eyes burn with a strange new light.

 He should do something. Say something. This is his brother, and a large part of Feral had thought he’d never see him again.

The words stick in his throat. Savage’s mind still feels different. Sharp and cold and angry in a way he’d never felt before that day with the Sisters.

He loves his brother. Trusts him more than anyone else.

But he’s not sure how much of his brother is left after what the Sisters did.

Feral’s grip tightens against the tree. Fear settles over him, making it hard to breathe, and Feral stops himself from touching his neck. He remembers the terror of having Savage’s hand around his neck. The pressure and pain as he squeezed, and he still doesn’t know anything about what happened.

He almost doesn’t notice the stranger standing next to Savage. Another Nightbrother, with red skin and the familiar sweep of their markings, but not one Feral has ever met. He hadn’t realized there were any Nightbrothers outside of Dathomir.

“So this is him?” the stranger says, stalking closer.  “A weak little thing, to have caused such trouble.”

He reaches out to tilt Feral’s head upwards, inspecting him. Feral keeps his mouth closed, and he allows it. His pride prickles, but he has practice at pushing that down. Not with other Brothers, of course, but he can adapt.

The stranger’s presence feels strange. It has that same coldness as Savage, but… sharper.  Controlled and honed into something deadly. Feral knows how to recognize danger, and this man sends his instincts screaming. Eventually, though, Feral’s curiosity outweighs his unease.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Feral says.

“Ventress attempted to use you as a bargaining chip. I am disinclined to allow her such liberties. Come; we are leaving.”

He steps back and turns away, towards where they came. Feral stays where he is, now frozen for a different reason. Come with them? As in, off Dathomir? Who is this stranger, and where did they come from? What has happened since Savage was taken?

“Savage?” Feral whispers, confused and uncertain.

Savage still won’t meet his eyes. “We can take you somewhere safe,” he says.

Feral waits, but Savage doesn’t look at him. He doesn’t say anything, not about where he’s been or what the Sisters did to him. He looks and feels almost like a different person, but Feral still sees pieces of his brother there. It’s not the same as back then with the Sisters, when there’d been nothing.

Feral does the only thing he can. He follows his brother.

---

He tries.

This is his brother. His brothers, and Feral had never been told what their clan was missing. The brother—Maul—that the Nightsisters had stolen from them. Feral would do just about anything for his family.  So he throws himself into the training and tasks, and he tries to be useful.

Most of the time, his brothers leave him on a nameless planetoid while Maul establishes his power base. It’s a stronghold of one of Maul’s allies, and Savage was right. He’s safe there.

He’s also alone and so very lost.

He just…

He’s a Nightbrother, through and through. He knows how to hunt and fight and mend. To tend the central fires and watch over Littles and the hundred other small tasks that keep their village running. He doesn’t know how to use a datapad or navigate the politics of these strangers. He’d never even seen an Offworlder before coming here.

And… he’s never been alone. He thought it was bad before, when he was the only one of his Clan left, but he’d still had the village and other Nightbrothers. Now, Savage barely looks at him, even during training, and they certainly don’t talk. Both of his brothers are away more often than not, and Feral finds himself surrounded by strangers.

He tries and he tries, but it doesn’t seem to go anywhere. And… he starts doing research too. He figures out the datapads and the holonet, and he reads, desperate to know about this new space he’d stumbled into.

He learns about the war. The Separatists. These allies and their bloody history.

There’s information about his brothers too. What they’ve done. Even a few video clips, and Feral-

He can’t.

---

Feral picks a quiet spot to speak with Savage.

He asked Savage to come alone, but he’s still surprised to hear the quiet purr of a hovercycle. He hadn’t truly expected Savage to hide something from Maul, not even for Feral. He watches the hovercycle grow closer until he can pick out Savage’s head bent over the handles. The solid sweep of his horns and the bold markings, as familiar to Feral as his own skin. He looks away, choosing to stare out over the water one last time. He wants to remember this moment. To memorize it before…

Well. Before.

The motor cuts off. Footsteps. Savage stops behind him, but Feral doesn’t turn. Not yet.

Feral can feel him waiting. He’s annoyed already, and Feral hates how familiar he is with the yawning cavern of his fury. Feral knows he needs to speak. Every moment that passes only makes it worse, but the words tangle in his throat.

It would’ve been smarter to steal a ship and run. To send Savage a recorded message, if he left him anything at all. But every time he touched the controls, he remembered Savage as he’d once been. Had imagined the look on his face when he learned that Feral had disappeared. The realization that Feral had abandoned him.

So he’d come here instead. To deal with the fallout in person.

Well. He’d never been smart.

“Do you remember when we were young?” slips out of Feral’s throat first. “We talked about finding a ship and leaving Dathomir. Striking out on our own, just the two of us.”

“You didn’t call me here to talk about sentiment,“ Savage says.

Feral flinches away. Swallows, and sets that old dream aside. Savage is right. They’re long past the point of old dreams and childishness.

He takes a breath and turns to face Savage. His brother is closer than he expects. Sitting on the stump, Feral feels even smaller next to him. He forces himself to meet Savage’s eyes, and it’s still harder than it should be. Makes him remember things he desperately wants to forget.

“I’m not going back,” Feral says.

Savage stills. Feral wets his lips. Continues.

“I don’t belong here. I’m not strong like you and Maul, and I just-” His voice breaks. He swallows hard and forces himself to continue. “I can’t be part of this. I’ve heard about what you and Maul have done. The people you’ve killed, and I can’t do this, Savage. I can’t.”

Any path to power was bloody, but there were limits to what Feral could tolerate. There needed to be limits. This was his, and he refused to cross it. Not even for his brothers.

“You’re leaving us,” Savage says, and Feral can’t read him at all.

Feral looks down. Can’t say anything because Savage is right. Savage curses, and-

Oh.

There’s the anger.

It flares out from Savage, violent and painful. Savage doesn’t move closer, doesn’t reach out for him, but Feral flinches back anyway.

“Then why are you still here?” he shouts.

Around them, boulders crack and crumble as Savage lashes out. Feral waits, but none of it touches him, not even the shrapnel. Savage has his fists clenched and teeth bared, and it takes Feral a moment to realize he’s waiting for an answer.

“Because every time I imagine starting over, you’re there beside me.”

Despite everything, he can’t bear the thought of leaving Savage behind. Strained as their relationship has become, they’re still brothers. He knows, bone deep and aching, that he’d die before severing the final threads holding them together.

Feral sees the moment Savage realizes what he’s really asking. The oppressive force of Savage’s anger fades.

“You want me to come. With you.”

He says the words slowly, like he’s testing out how they feel. It’s not an agreement, not even close, but… it’s something. An invitation to keep talking, at least, so Feral does.

“We’re strong now, especially you. More than strong enough to survive on our own. We even have a ship.”

Everything they’d dreamt of only a year earlier, before they’d even heard of the war. It feels like so much longer.

“I don’t care about the war or building some grand power base. I doubt you do either. We’re just obeying orders, and we don’t have to be. We’re allowed to leave. Together.”

He reaches a hand towards Savage and tries to smile. Savage stares back, and Feral waits for his decision.

Chapter 2: Hiding

Feral knows how to hide. Most Nightbrothers do, and it’s one of the few things Feral has been truly, unequivocally good at. He knows how to cover his tracks and fade into the background. To escape. So he lays false leads, trades in the Separatist ship he’d taken, and chooses the most isolated planet he can find.

More than anything, he’s happy. Breathlessly, unspeakably happy because he’s dreamed about being free since he was a child and first realized what it meant to be a Nightbrother. This isn’t how he’d ever imagined it, but he doesn’t care because Savage came with him.

Savage is quiet at his side. He wanders their small ship. Avoids Feral and barely talks. But he’s there, and it’s more than Feral dared hope for. Feral isn’t good at holding onto things, but this time he’s determined to try.

So Feral picks a planet, Valdoria, far away from the war or any strategic target. He finds a small, abandoned property on the edges of a great forest, isolated and safe. He makes plans and throws himself into each step, determined to succeed.

Then they’re here, standing in front of their own small house, and there’s nothing else to do. No more plans to make or places to run. It leaves Feral at loose ends, and he’s not sure what to do.

---

Savage slips away into the forest. Feral lets him go.

Savage had taken his hand and come with him. Feral holds onto the thought because it means something. It means everything, even if the rest of their relationship remains broken.

So Savage goes into the forest, and Feral explores the new house. The place is old and in disrepair, but it’s made of better materials than anything the Nightbrothers could find. He’d helped build their old home on Dathomir, and he knows the basics. This, at least, he can do.

As he works, he keeps track of Savage’s Force presence. It moves back and forth in random patterns. Hours pass before he returns to linger outside the house. Feral only hesitates a moment before joining him.  Savage has a large animal carcass slung over one shoulder. Savage wordlessly starts preparing the meat. Feral watches, occasionally stepping in when more hands are needed. The process is comfortable in its familiarity, and Feral sneaks glances at his brother.

“We’ll need to build a proper smokehouse,” Feral dares to say.

 Smoked meat had been popular on Dathomir, and it’d always been Savage’s favorite. It’s a simple enough thing to build. There’s a small city west of them where he can find tools and supplies.

It feels strange, making these sorts of plans. On Dathomir, they only had the village, and gathering supplies had been a communal affair. With Maul, none of it had mattered. This is something different, and different sounds very good.

---

Nights are hard.

He hasn’t slept well since before Ventress. Leaving Dathomir helped, but nightmares keep him awake more often than not.

His mind has no shortage of material to draw from. The Nightsisters, and the well-worn terror of being chosen. Being too weak to save anyone, not even himself, and watching as Ventress took Savage away. Savage hurt, Savage dead, Savage blank and distant like those moments after his transformation, when he’d grabbed Feral and-

Yes, Feral was very used to nightmares.

Most of the time he woke blinking past the lingering images and bitter taste of horror in his throat. Feral often spent the rest of the night outside with a cup of tea cooling in his hands. Reminding himself where he was and what was real.

Tonight is a bad night.

Feral wakes himself screaming. He throws himself blindly forward, but he only hits the wall.

It’d been Ventress this time. Her and Savage, and Feral too weak to do anything but watch. The details are already fading, but he remembers blood and helpless terror. Savage, broken and bleeding on the ground.

He forces his breathing to even out. Silences the soft whimpers that keep trying to escape.

He can sense Savage, and Feral latches onto the familiar feel of his presence. His brother is awake. Probably woken by Feral’s shouts. Once, Savage would’ve come running immediately. Or he’d have already been there; they’d shared a sleeping roll on occasion, especially when they were younger.

That was a long time ago, and there’s no real danger here. Feral can deal with a nightmare on his own.

---

Time passes oddly. Sometimes slow, sometimes so quickly he marvels at the change.  Feral throws himself into fixing the ramshackle house. Plans and ideas and projects. He visits the city and learns its twisting roads and tunnels. Meets a few locals.

He and Savage still don’t talk.

Feral tries, a few times, but the words don’t come. What’s he supposed to say anyway? That he misses his brother and how they used to be? How he never knows what Savage is thinking anymore? Maybe something about the nightmares of Savage hurting him and the sickly green magic of the Nightsister.

It’s so much. Too much. Besides, Savage isn’t around often. He spends more time in the woods, traveling further and further into the unmapped wilderness. Sometimes he’ll mention some incident or a new place he’d found, but not often and not in any detail.

Back on Dathomir, Savage had enjoyed telling stories. They’d always been small things, events or legends or rumors of elsewhere. He hadn’t been good enough to Speak in the village—hadn’t ever tried—but he’d told them to Feral when they’d been alone. It’d felt like their own secret.

Feral wonders if Savage still makes his stories. If he writes them down, now that paper is freely available. He can’t decide if it’s worse if Savage stopped shaping stories altogether or if he just doesn’t share with him anymore.

As the days pass, Feral notices Savage getting restless. He chaffs at the planet more and more. Spends more time wandering and talks less. His Force presence feels rougher too, annoyed and frustrated and unhappy.

Feral can guess why. Savage wasn’t made for hiding, and he hates running away. He’s used to being a Sith, after all: to being powerful and important. Unlike Feral, he was good at it. Feral doesn’t know how to fix it. He keeps giving Savage space, and he knows it won’t be enough.

So the first time Savage goes off-planet, Feral doesn’t expect him to come back.

Savage leaves at night. He’s quiet, but stealth is one of the few things Feral is better at. Feral was still awake when he heard the soft sounds of Savage gathering his things. Creeping quietly through the house and opening the door. Feral waits an extra minute before following.

It’s not that he’d expected Savage to stay. Not really. He hadn’t expected Savage to come in the first place, and he’s been waiting for him to leave ever since.

He’d hoped Savage would at least say goodbye though.

Feral slips out of the house after Savage is gone. He doesn’t bother following. He stands there, staring out into the trees until he sees the distant gleam of Savage’s ship rising above the treeline. He watches until the ship disappears, just another speck in the sky.

Feral walks back inside and makes himself a cup of tea. The tea ends up cold and over-steeped, but he drinks it anyway.

A week later, Feral wakes to the sound of the outside lock slipping free. He’s awake and moving immediately, a knife in his hand.

His first thought is a thief. Maybe a thrillseeker from a nearby settlement. Hopefully not some sort of assassin; he thought they’d been careful enough to avoid being tracked. He’s at the door of his room when he realizes he knows the Force presence. He drops the knife.

“Savage?”

Savage jerks around. He’s holding something, and he drops it heavily onto the table. Some spill onto the wood, and Feral recognizes credit chips.

“I didn’t think you’d come back,” Feral says.

Savage doesn’t say anything. He starts to turn away, and Feral is suddenly afraid that he’ll leave again. That he’ll realize there’s nothing left for him here, and Feral will never see him again. He grabs Savage’s arm, and they both freeze.

Once, touch had been easy between them. It’d been one of their few comforts on Dathomir, and he remembers sitting shoulder to shoulder. Wrestling and laughing and falling asleep against each other.

The Nightsisters changed that. Feral can count on one hand the times he and Savage have touched since the night Savage transformed. This time, Feral doesn’t pull away. Savage slowly relaxes under his hand.

Feral is the first to look away.

“I’m glad you’re here,” Feral says as he pulls back. Letting go of Savage is almost physically painful, but he doesn’t want to overstep. He doesn’t know where Savage’s boundaries are anymore. Doesn’t know if Savage still likes to be touched at all, and he is so afraid of making everything worse.

He doesn’t ask where the credit chips came from; he isn’t sure he wants to know.

Feral can’t quite make himself return to his room, so he ends up making tea. A Dathomirian recipe, something rich and soothing. They stay there until the sun rises.

Haltingly, Savage tells him about the planet he visited. The chilled air and purple ground and litany of poisonous wildlife. The words come slowly, with strange pauses and tangents, but Feral tries to memorize every one of them. Savage is back and telling stories again, and, for a moment, Feral lets himself be happy.

Chapter 3: Nightmare

Feral gets a few good weeks. Or… maybe not good, exactly. Not like things used to be back before Ventress and the war. It’s better, though. Peaceful. They have the house and the forest. The city and tunnels and an entire new world to lose themselves in.

Feral dares to brush a hand against Savage’s arm a few times. Lightly. Carefully. Savage never reaches back, but he doesn’t pull away either. Feral thinks he enjoys the contact. He might just be projecting. If he is, it’s a pleasant lie, and he holds onto it.

Most days, Savage seeks his solitude in the forest. Feral finds he’s had enough of isolation in the past months. He goes to the city instead, where he can lose himself in the bustle of the crowds and markets. A couple times, Savage follows him there, and they explore the city together. Those are good days. Times when Feral can almost pretend things are back to normal.

Nights are harder. Neither of them sleep easily, but they manage. Alone.

Then, one night, Feral wakes choking on Savage’s emotions. His horror and guilt presses down on him like a tangible thing, and Savage is at its epicenter. Dreaming, Feral realizes. A nightmare. He recognizes the feel, all overwhelming emotions and soft-edged thoughts. It’s never felt this bad before though. Not since they came here.

Feral breaths through it until he can separate Savage's emotions from his own. He stumbles to his feet on unsteady legs and runs to the door. Savage's room is just beside his. The door is closed, as always, but it is never locked. Not against him.

Feral slams the door open, uncaring of the noise. Savage has already thrown his covers off, and his frame fills the entire bedroll. His claws have torn furrows in the sheets, and his face is drawn in agony.

"Savage?" he calls out, hesitating just out of reach.

Savage can be dangerous like this. He wakes up fighting, violent at the edge of sleep. But Savage doesn't wake, not even when Feral calls louder. His emotions keep getting stronger, and Feral has never been able to sit back when his brother is in pain.

He reaches out, and his hand barely touches the overheated skin of Savage's shoulder before a hand closes around his wrist. He’s thrown across the room and hits the wall hard. He doesn’t have time to recover before Savage is there, lifting him off the ground and pinning him against the wood with one heavy arm. He’s almost eye to eye with Savage, but his brother’s eyes are distant. Blank, as if he’s looking straight through him.

"Savage!" Feral shouts, and he is afraid.

Except Savage doesn't press down. Doesn't squeeze and break and hurt. He stills. Pulls back.

"Feral?" he says, confused. "You-"

Realization sets in, and Savage throws himself backwards. Feral crumples to the ground, still struggling to breath. His chest aches where Savage grabbed him, but he reaches towards his neck. Making sure he’s still whole. Emotion overwhelms him, and Feral can’t tell which is his and which is his brother’s. There’s only fear and anger and guilt, enough to drown in.

He’s still on the ground when Savage turns and runs, knocking the door partway off its hinges in his haste. He’s still running when he leaves their house, and Feral loses track of him.

With Savage gone, there’s nobody to watch Feral as he falls apart. He tries and fails to stand and ends up curled up against the wall instead, shaking and shaking. Barely able to breath. Unable to move. Still so painfully afraid.

Weak, he thinks. Weak. Savage isn't even here anymore. Hadn't actually hurt him. Feral is perfectly fine, and he’s supposed to be better than this anyway. Better than last time, when he’d only been able to stand there uselessly and beg. He’d trained since then and promised himself he’d be stronger.

Except he failed. He hadn’t been able to do anything.

The shaking fades eventually. The fear and panic drain away. He stays where he’d fallen for hours, until long after the sun rises.

Savage doesn’t come back.

---

As soon as Feral can stand, he leaves the house. It’s quiet and empty and echoing with emotion, and Feral can’t stay there. He can’t.

The forest is Savage’s space, so Feral ends up on the road. He walks towards the city because he can’t think of anything else to do. Doesn’t want to stand still with only his thoughts for company.

So. He walks. 

His mind is blank and emotions raw, and Feral doesn’t let himself think. If he does, he’ll only remember bad memories and worse times. He makes the entire trip wrapped in a sort of daze, focused only on each step as it comes.

He reaches the city and keeps moving through the streets without a destination. Eventually he tires of walking. He’s somewhere beside the marketplace, and there are too many people nearby. People bumping into him. Their minds pressing against his, full of their own emotions and concerns. Some pleasant and others in pain or grief, and it's all too much. 

His breath catches, and Feral realizes with a jolt that he’s close to tears. Ashamed, he ducks into an empty alleyway and fights to get himself back under control. He’s so focused on rebuilding his shields that he doesn’t notice he’s attracted someone’s attention until they speak.

“Hey, you’re that weird hermit who lives in the forest, right? Are you okay”

Feral looks up. The speaker is a humanoid woman. Long hair, vibrant clothes. Feral would guess she's a local, though she speaks Common with a slight accent.

“Hermit?” he repeats. For a moment, his confusion outweighs everything else.

The stranger settles on a small crate near Feral. Close enough to comfortably talk. Outside grabbing distance. Smart.

“You know, living alone in an isolated shack. Barely ever coming to town. Tons of weird rumors; do you want to hear one?” she asks, tilting her head with a small grin.

Feral almost smiles back. Normally he’d be curious. He’d probably play along just to see where it would lead. But today isn’t a normal day. He shrugs and quietly hopes she’ll leave.

She doesn’t.

“Seriously, is something wrong?” she says. “I’m Adha, by the way. I run one of the food stalls in the market.”

“It’s nothing you need to worry about.”

If he’d been in Dathomir, that would’ve been enough. His problems are his own to deal with, and they weren’t big enough to affect others. He’d noticed how humans, in general, tended to be more meddlesome. This one included.

“You wanna talk about it? Promise I’m a good listener. Strangers make the best listeners anyway; we’ve got no stake in the problem.”

Feral wouldn’t know; before leaving Dathomir, the only strangers he’d met had been the Sisters. He doesn’t mean to say anything, but the words slip out regardless.

“My brother left. I’m… worried.”

He made everything worse. Savage is gone, and Feral doesn’t know if he’ll be back. He'd been in so much pain when he left, and Feral didn’t know if he's alright or hurt. Adha kept staring at him, frowning.

“Your brother. Tall dude? Quiet and super intimidating?”

This time, Feral’s smile is almost genuine. “You’ve met?”

Adha shrugs. “You two bought some meat buns off me last week. So, you had some kinda fight?”

Feral flinches back. A fight. Could he call it that? They hadn’t argued or exchanged blows, and the whole thing had only lasted a few seconds.

“He was dreaming. I tried to wake him, and-”

His throat closes up. Adha keeps staring, head tilted slightly in thought.

“You need help looking for him? I know some guys, can call in some favors…”

Feral quickly shakes his head. “He’s probably off-planet already.”

Savage didn’t do anything by halves, after all. He’ll have taken the ship and left. Even if he hadn’t, the last thing they wanted was a stranger tracking him down. They’d almost certainly end up dead. 

Adha slides off her crate. Feral expects her to leave, curiosity sated, but she comes closer instead. Holds out a hand.

“C’mon, you look too pathetic to leave alone in an alleyway. I could use some company while I prep for the lunch rush.”

Feral considers her hand. He intends to reject it, at first. Except, there’s no pity in her Force presence. There’s curiosity. Some old sadness. A bright earnestness. So, Feral takes her hand. He doesn’t have anything better to do anyway.

He spends the rest of the day at her stall, chopping vegetables and preparing dough. Adha fills the silence with stories about the marketplace and city. The customers keep them busy, and Feral is grateful for the distraction. Eventually, inevitably, the market slows to a stop. Adha invites him to stay longer, but Feral has intruded on her kindness long enough. He goes home.

The house is just as empty as when he’d left that morning. The door still hangs open, and he can see the path Savage tore through as he left. Feral quietly cleans the broken wood and strewn objects. He fixes the hinges on the door. Stands outside Savage’s room and feels the fading echoes of their earlier emotions.

He sleeps under the stars that night, unable to bear staying inside.

Chapter 4: Return

Feral deals with each day as it comes. He distracts himself with training and quiet activities and more visits to the city. Adha always seems to have some small task for him.  Messages to run or ingredients to prepare. He can feel her curiosity, but she doesn’t ask any more questions. For that, Feral is grateful.

He tries not to dwell. So, he doesn’t think about the future. Doesn’t dare give shape to the fear that Savage won’t return at all. That the days and weeks will press on endlessly, and he’ll be stuck here. Alone.

The fear takes root regardless in the weeks that follow. He grows used to being alone, though familiarity doesn’t soften its ache.  So he doesn’t quite believe it one morning when he wakes up with Savage outside.

He lingers in the half-awake state between sleep and awareness, convinced it’s a dream and that the familiar Force presence will fade as he wakes. Except, the sensation only grows stronger until he’s blinking his eyes open.

Feral rolls out of bed and sprints to the door.

Savage is there.

At first, Feral thinks he’s asleep. Savage is on the ground, leaning heavily against the outside wall. Dawn is just starting to break, and he can’t make out his brother’s expression in the dim light. His mental shields are up too, and Feral can’t sense his emotions at all.

“Savage?” Feral says.

Savage tilts his head towards him. He doesn’t meet Feral’s eyes, though. Doesn’t stand or speak. Feral hesitates in the doorway, unsure what to do.

There’s drying blood on Savage’s shirt.

“You’re hurt,” Feral says. Now that he’s looking, he can see several deep scrapes across Savage’s arm.  One in particular cuts deeply into his shoulder, and it needs stitches.

“Can you stand?”

Savage nods. He doesn’t move until Feral reaches out to help. As soon as he touches Savage’s arm, he stands and follows Feral inside.

They’ve stitched each other’s wounds before. Injuries were common with the Nightbrothers, and their Healers were often busy with sicker patients. Feral has better supplies now. He even has painkiller patches, which seem like a great indulgence.

Savage doesn’t react as Feral cleans the wound and closes it with small, neat stitches. He wraps it with clean bandages and lets his hands linger on Savage’s shoulder.

“Thank you for coming back,” Feral says softly. He can’t think of anything else to say.

Savage pulls away.

“You’d be safer if I could stay away,” he says.

He stands and, for a moment, Feral is afraid he’ll leave again. He walks into his room instead, closing the door behind him. Feral stares after him for several long minutes, but Savage doesn’t return or make a sound. His shields are just as impenetrable as always.

Eventually, Feral returns to his room. He ignores the bed and leans against the dividing wall between his room and Savage’s. Having his brother nearby settles something in his chest regardless of everything else. He sleeps better than he has in weeks.

---

He wakes while it’s still dark outside. He can’t tell what woke him, but he stands and shakes out the stiffness in his limbs. He can already tell he won’t be falling back asleep.

He hesitates in the doorway when he notices Savage sitting at the table. He’s hunched over the wood with his hands spread out in front of him, staring at them. His shields are weaker than before, enough for some emotion to leak out.

This isn’t the first time Feral’s found him like this. There’d been other nights when he’d woken to Savage’s emotions; quieter than the nightmares but no less intense. Mornings when he’d walked in to find Savage still sitting there, ignoring him. Feral had always left him alone. He hadn’t known how to help or if his presence had been wanted. Didn’t want to risk making everything worse.

This time, though, Feral aches from his brother’s long absence. Like this, Savage still seems so far away, and Feral fears that, if he leaves now, Savage will have disappeared again by the time he returns.

“Brother?” Feral asks quietly.

Savage shifts just enough for Feral to catch sight of his eyes, a bright, burning gold against his markings. He looks away again, turning his gaze back to his upturned palms. It’s not quite an invitation, but it’s not a rejection either. Feral walks closer.

This close, the force of Savage’s emotions is almost painful. It’s all fury and loss and desperate guilt. Feral strengthens his mental walls and focuses on keeping his own emotions separate. He falters at Savage’s side, unsure how to help.

But Feral is so tired of being afraid. Doing nothing hasn’t helped either. Savage’s attention is still fixed on his own hands, so Feral reaches over and put his own hand atop Savage’s.

He remembers when Savage had been young and still smaller than him. He’d grown fast and strong, and Feral had been so proud when he’d become the best fighter in the village. Back then, Savage had been only slightly bigger than him. A little taller, broader shoulders, but it’d been a modest difference. Now, Feral’s hand looks small against his brother’s.

Savage jerks at his touch, but he doesn’t pull away.

“Talk to me. Please,” Feral says. “You keep shutting me out, and I don’t know what to do.”

For several long moments, Savage doesn’t move. Feral waits. He can feel his brother thinking, struggling, wanting, and eventually, haltingly, he starts to speak.

“You should hate me after what I did. You’d be better off if you ran and never looked back,” Savage says. “I keep dreaming about hurting you. I don’t want to. I never wanted- But I can’t stop.”

He takes a deep, shuddering breath. Feral waits, and eventually Savage continues.

“Something was wrong with my head,” he whispers. “Mother Talzin. The Nightsisters. Their orders were so loud, and I couldn’t think.”

Savage is breathing fast, and he clenches his hands into tight fists.

Feral…

Feral isn’t sure what to think. Savage doesn’t talk about what the witches did to him. Not the training or the ritual. He’s never said a word about that night either, when they dragged Feral in front of him and he-

Well. Feral hadn’t tried to speak of it either.

“You were right, though. I was weak,” Feral says

Too weak to survive Ventress on his own. Too weak to protect himself, let alone help Savage. He hadn’t been able to do anything, and Savage had suffered because of it.

Savage looks stricken.

“No. No, you thought-” he says, and Feral doesn’t understand why he sounds so horrified when it’s just the truth. Savage surges to his feet and grabs Feral by the shoulders. It’s the first time he’s willingly touched Feral in months.

“You’re not weak. Not for trusting me and trying to reason with me when I was- when I couldn’t-” His voice breaks, and it’s still unsteady when continues. “I’m so sorry. I swear I won’t hurt you again. I’d rather die, and I’ll kill anyone else who tries.”

He’s practically burning with conviction, and-

Feral believes him.

Something jagged breaks loose in his chest, painful and freeing. He takes that last step forward and embraces Savage properly, holding him desperately tight. After a moment, Savage carefully folds his arms around Feral’s shoulders, returning the embrace.

Savage’s grip used to be a firm, solid thing, but now his arms are gentle and so, so careful. Feral could easily pull free, but he doesn’t want to. He rests his head against his brother’s shoulder and feels small against his bulk. It’s a strange feeling, and he’s still getting used to it.  

“Just don’t leave. Not without telling me and promising to come back.”

He can handle being hurt, and he’s very good at surviving. But he knows, deep in his bones, that he wouldn’t survive being alone.

---

Later, Savage stops him before leaving the house.

“You should keep training,” he says. “I haven’t seen you use the Force since we left.”

Feral bites back a comment that he has been using it. He’s been sensing people and emotions just like always. He knows that isn’t what Savage was talking about, though. He hasn’t been practicing what Savage taught him back when they were with Maul.

On Dathomir, they’d been discouraged from any overt Force usage. Moving things. Running or jumping with it. The Nightsisters didn’t like seeing it, and displeasing a Sister was very unwise. They’d still played with it, of course, in closed rooms and isolated pathways. Less as they got older and understood the danger.

There weren’t any Sisters here on Valdoria, but it was still dangerous. They needed to keep a low profile.

“I’ll think about it,” Feral says.

Savage frowns.

Feral sees something moving at the edge of his vision. It’s the only warning he gets before something flies towards him. Feral catches it on instinct.

It’s a small stone. Harmless. Floating in mid-air, where Feral had used the Force to stop it. He drops it immediately, uneasy for reasons he can’t place.

“You need to be able to defend yourself,” Savage says.

Several more stones rise up to hover around them, and Feral bites back an argument. Even now, he knows he’s being unreasonable.

He shouldn’t be this nervous about using the Force. They’re alone here. He can sense how isolated they are, with only animals nearby. There’s been no sign that anyone followed them. No hint of danger or suspicion. Nothing in all the weeks they’ve lived here.

Feral takes a deep breath and deliberately chooses to relax. To accept that they’re safe here.

And… there’s an unpleasant current to Savage’s Force presence.  Something cold and determined, and that isn’t good either.

On Dathomir, training together had always been exciting. A way to play and tease each other, away from the pressure of the village proper. It had been different with Maul, with Savage so distant and Feral afraid of doing something wrong. Feral desperately wants to reclaim their old relationship, and that means he can’t act so scared anymore. Savage won’t hurt him, and he promised not to run away again.

Feral needs to make the first move if he wants anything to change. So he does.

The first step is convincing Savage to relax. He shouldn’t look like training is something to be endured. It’s supposed to be fun. 

Hiding a smile, Feral connects to the Force and shoves at Savage. His brother stumbles backwards several steps, surprised, and his grip on the stones waver. Feral plucks one of them out of his control and tosses it towards Savage’s head. Savage catches it with his hand, staring back with surprise and rising indignation.

Feral grins and runs into the forest. He moves slow until he hears Savage in pursuit, and then he dedicates himself wholeheartedly to the game.

---

He’s breathing hard and smeared with dirt by the time they finish. Even his head aches in the way that means he’s been pushing himself in the Force. It’s a good ache though, like stretching out his muscles.

Beside him, Savage is slightly muddy. Barely tired at all. Feral doesn’t let it bother him. He’d rarely won spars against Savage before he grew a full foot and mastered Force techniques. At this point, he’s proud of any success, no matter how small.

What matters more is that Savage is smiling. It’s a small thing, barely a quirk of his lips, but it’s there. That cold determination from before is entirely gone, mellowed into a quiet satisfaction. It’s a pleasant emotion, and Feral has felt few enough of those from his brother.

Savage is sitting on a stump, which leaves his head about level with Feral’s shoulders. Without letting himself hesitate, Feral tangles his fingers around Savage’s horns and pulls him close in a gentle embrace. Savage’s head rests just above Feral’s hearts, and Feral gently rubs at the base of Savage’s horns.

It’s different than it used to be. Last time he’d done this, Savage had laughed and teased him about being sentimental. Now, Savage just freezes. He doesn’t pull away or go cold, so Feral keeps stroking his horns.

Savage is warm against him, and Feral can feel him slowly relax. Feral breathes in and nearly chokes on all the emotions in his chest. Grief and relief and hope because he’s able to have this again. He doesn’t plan on speaking; the words slip out without his permission.

“I was so afraid you were dead. Or hollowed out by their Magick. I’m so glad you’re alive and here.”

Savage doesn’t say anything, but he presses closer. He raises one arm and carefully returns the embrace.

Chapter 5: Tunnels and Trouble

Feral stays within reach of Savage over the next week. It’s not that he doesn’t trust his brother, but he feels better with Savage nearby. More settled, like the world is shifting back into alignment. They keep busy with training and foraging. They even go on a hunt together, though Valdoria’s animals are nowhere near the challenge of Dathomir’s.

A few days in, Feral is surprised to realize he misses his trips to the city.  The planet is nothing like Dathomir, but he enjoys it. All these people moving about their lives. The ebb and flow of their emotions. He’s starting to know some names and faces too, though he wouldn’t call anyone friend. Not quite yet.

When he mentions it, he doesn’t expect Savage to nod and set down the wood he’d been working on.

“I’ll come,” Savage says.

It’s a gift Feral hadn’t expected, and he’s smiling as they take those first steps towards the city.

Partway there, Feral stops Savage and motions him towards a small hill near the side of the road. A handful of boulders lay across the far edge, and they’re almost on top of them before the opening into the hill comes into view. Smiling at Savage’s surprise, Feral guides him down.

Savage has to duck to fit, but the tunnel opens up after a few feet. The ground slopes gently downward as the daylight behind them fades. A little longer, and they reach a gentle bio-luminescent glow emanating from the ceiling.

“What is this?” Savage asks, reaching up to touch the thick glowing streaks. A few flakes break off and float gently to the ground.

“Some sort of plant. The locals cultivate it in the tunnels to help guide their way.”

It was also a sign of which paths were safe and reasonably well-traveled. The unlit passages could be small or private or even natural caves that led nowhere at all. Still safe to explore, but they required more care.

“Do you know the way?” Savage asks. He’s staring down the tunnel ahead of them, where the path curves out of sight.

Feral understands his unease. Even now, months after he first tested the tunnels, being underground feels strange. Caves on Dathomir tended to be dark and dangerous, home to any number of predators.

“Here,” Feral says, and he presses Savage’s hand against the wall. Several shapes are carved into the stone, deep and deliberate.

“This means there’s an exit nearby and that we’re below the Eastern road. I think there’s a few other signals I’m missing, but I haven’t found anyone willing to explain it yet. We won’t get lost.”

Wandering alone, there’d been a few times he’d gotten turned around, but the tunnel system was designed to be safe. Even in the smaller tunnels, he’d never been lost for long, and this would be a straight shot to the city.

Savage nods, and he follows Feral without further protest. He stays on alert, watching the space around them and glancing carefully down each dark corner and opening as they passed. Sounds echo strangely and the air is almost unpleasantly cool, but it’s peaceful as well. A nice change from the forests up above.

As they get closer, they start passing other locals. A group of laughing teenagers. An older couple talking quietly amongst themselves. By the time their tunnel opens into a large cavern, there’s a proper crowd around them.

Savage is stiff at his side, and Feral carefully puts a hand against his arm.

“Look up,” he says, and he feels Savage’s surprise ripple outward when he does.

Above them, multiple strains of the bio-luminescent plants give off different colors. They wind around the walls and ceiling, joined by a spread of small, artificial lights in several hues. It’s an alien kind of beauty, like looking up at a night sky transformed into something mesmerizingly strange. They stare up in silence for several moments. Feral has seen the view several times by now, but it’s still one of his favorite spots.

“The market is above us. This is one of the more popular areas for people to visit.”

Savage nods, and they keep moving. A wide staircase carved into the stone leads back into the open air, and they emerge into the city. Soon enough, they find their way to the marketplace.

When Adha sees them, she gives a shout and vaults over the counter to meet them. At his side, Savage stiffens and reaches towards his belt, but Feral elbows him before he can do anything stupid.

“You’re back! Both of you! I gotta say, this is a surprise.”

Without warning, she punches Savage in the arm. Hard, intending to bruise. Savage doesn’t flinch and stares evenly back at her.

“How dare you go running off like that! You better not be planning on doing it again,” Adha says.

Ignoring her, Savage turns to Feral. “You know her?”

“Unfortunately,” Feral says, flushed with embarrassment. “This is Adha. We met while you were gone. She runs one of the food stalls; shouldn’t you be working now?”

He directs the last bit towards Adha, who shrugs, completely shameless.

“It’s midmorning. There’s only prep work now. Which reminds me!” She snaps her fingers and points up at Savage. “You’re going to help me. Payment for looking after this lout while you were gone."

Savage stares back then inclines his head.

“Very well.”

So they spend the rest of the morning at Adha’s stall. There’s not nearly enough work for three people, but Adha insists. She ends up perched on her counter-top, directing them around the small space.

If she was hoping to irritate Savage with grunt work, she would’ve been disappointed. Savage looks vaguely amused by her posturing, and neither of them have any problems with the work. They’re Nightbrothers; they’re used to the mundane practicalities of life.

“So am I ever gonna get a name for you?” Adha eventually asks. “It feels weird to keep calling you ‘Feral’s Brother’”

“No.”

Adha squawks and makes some noise about etiquette, but she doesn’t ask again. It makes Feral smile. Adha can be loud and abrasive, but she tries to be considerate about the important things.

Afterward, Adha rewards them with meat buns and sends them on their way. Feral grins as he eats. Adha’s a skilled cook, and it’s been a good morning. He doesn’t take those for granted anymore.

“You’re happy here,” Savage says quietly, and the words are almost a question.

Feral’s grin softens into a fond smile, and he drifts closer, knocking shoulders with his brother.

“I am.”

Not always. Not easily. But there’s enough sparks of happiness here, especially with Savage at his side.

---

At some point, Feral looks up and realizes Savage’s eyes aren’t as bright as they used to be. They’re still yellow, not their old gray-green, but they’re softer. The threads of Darkness in his Force signature have faded too.

Feral isn’t sure what it means, but it feels good. More like how Savage used to be.

Gradually, they find some semblance of normal. Hunts and foraging in the forest. Meals together. Training. Most of the time, it reminds him of the games they played as children, testing their limits and teasing each other. It’s mainly Force practice, not spars or wrestling, and Feral can’t say it bothers him.

He’s doing better. Really, he is. He’s happier, and the nightmares are getting better. He’s also… worried. About how he’ll react if Savage grabs or pins him.

So. Better to stick with Force training.

Eventually, Savage gets restless again. He becomes quieter. Irritable. He wanders more and spends less time at the house. He’s unhappy, and Feral quietly starts preparing for Savage to leave again. He waits, but Savage doesn’t bring it up.

“When are you going?” Feral asks one evening, after Savage has once again ignored the subject entirely. Savage stiffens.

“I’m not.”

“Savage?”

“I promised I wouldn’t leave. Not as long as you want me here.”

Feral hesitates. That’s not what he meant. Not at all. Savage is deathly serious though, and Feral picks his words carefully.

“I don’t mind if you want to wander. You shouldn’t feel like you’re stuck here. I think… I might like to join you, someday.”

After the war ended. When he feels more settled and stops worrying that their home would vanish if he left. He imagines traveling with Savage and visiting strange planets, and he likes the thought.

 “I’ll be fine on my own for a bit. Just talk to me. Tell me before you leave and when you’ll be back.”

Communication from off-planet was notoriously difficult through this planet’s magnetic fields. There were ways, though, if it was important and you had the credits.

“You’re sure?” Savage asks, and Feral nods. He smiles and lets his tone turn teasing.

“I know how to take care of myself. I am older than you, after all.”

Savage snorts, and his mouth twitches in a smile. It softens his face. Makes him look more like the brother Feral remembers.

Savage lingers a few more days. It’s a little annoying, actually, since Feral can feel how much Savage wants to leave. He needs something first though. Time, reassurance, company… Feral isn’t sure, but he can be patient. He gives Savage time. Then he helps Savage prepare for his journey and sees him off properly, armed with the promise that his brother will return in a few weeks.

Feral can’t sleep that night. He still doesn’t like being alone—hates the quiet and isolation after a lifetime surrounded by Nightbrothers—but it’s bearable. Better than feeling like a chain holding Savage back, and this time he knows his brother will return.

He makes it work.

---

Feral hears little about the war. He deliberately avoids news, actually. He doesn’t want to think about the Separatists or Maul, the brother they left behind.

It’s the one thing he regrets about his decision. Maul is his brother, and Feral still finds himself wishing Maul was the kind of person to run with them. Feral had only met Maul a few times, but that was enough to know it could never happen.

So Feral ignores the war as best he can. Occasionally he’ll stumble across news of this planet or that one being attacked. There’s always new gossip or propaganda pieces about the Republic Generals, which he cares about even less.

He keeps exploring the tunnels, traveling further away from the main paths. He only gets lost a handful of times, and even then he has no trouble finding the surface or another traveler to offer advice. The smaller paths are less popular, so it isn’t unusual when he makes the journey without encountering anyone. Then he reaches the city, and he starts to worry.

Something feels different when he walks through the marketplace. There’s fewer people and less shouting. More quiet, clustered conversation at the street edges.

Scared, Feral thinks.

He wanders through the crowd, but the conversations he overhears aren’t particularly illuminating. Just general unease. People asking about each other. Some debating leaving the city. But nothing about why or what happened.

He slows as he passes near Adha’s stall. She’s busy with a customer, and Feral hears vague noises about promises and deals. Adha feels frustrated and a little smug, so Feral waits for them to finish. Adha offers a wave when she notices him.

“What’s going on?” Feral asks. Adha spares him a quick smile

“Communication went completely out this morning. On and off planet. It’s making people nervous.”

As she talks, she pulls out some dough and starts shaping it into small buns. She, at least, doesn’t look afraid. Then again, Feral has never seen her anything less than composed, even the time a nearby brawl barreled into her stall.

“I… thought that was normal?” Feral ventured. It’d been one of the reasons he’d picked Valdoria, after all. Its magnetic fields mean comm signals are notoriously unreliable, which makes it a perfect place to disappear.

“Not this quickly. And not both types of signal at once.”

Feral takes a deep breath in and lets it slowly out as he watches Adha shape the dough, adding flavors and folding them into shape.

“Could be a coincidence,” he offers without much hope. He’s never had that kind of luck.

She hums noncommittally instead of pointing out the flaws in his logic, which is kind of her.

“Are you staying?”

“This is my stall. So long as the market stands, I’ll be here.”

Some of the buns on her grill have finished cooking, and she skillfully switches them for the raw ones. One on the end—a delicately twisted flower—has grown lopsided as it cooked. Adha weighs it thoughtfully in one hand before chucking it at Feral. 

“Be careful,” she says with a grin.

Feral smiles back and bites into the bun. It’s filled with spiced meat, and he finishes it quickly as he makes his way back out of the marketplace.

He doesn’t know what’s going on, but he has a  bad feeling about it. The feeling follows him as he leaves the city and heads home. He stays aboveground this time; it's quicker this way, and he can see what's around him.

He’s halfway there before he hears ships overhead. Ships aren’t uncommon, of course—the city has its shipyard, albeit a small one—but the sound is different than he's used to. Those are powerful engines; deeper than he's ever heard. Something feels wrong, and there’s a tight knot of unease in his chest. He turns back to face the city, scanning the skies.

Above them, something is descending from above. Several somethings, though it takes Feral a moment to recognize the specks as more ships. Next to them, the main ship is unspeakably huge, and it only grows larger as it comes closer.

A visitor? Some new alliance? No, there would’ve been word if this had been planned. And… comm signals are down. They have no way of calling for help.

The dread that has been building all day crescendos, and Feral can only shake his head in denial. Valdoria is explicitly unimportant to a war; that was the reason Feral chose it. There’s no resources. No strategic advantage to its conquest. The only thing either side could gain is the subjugation of its inhabitants, but what was the point?

Unreasonable or not, there’s a Separatist Destroyer descending towards the city and only one reason why it would appear. Feral starts to run. He’s too far away to do anything when the bombs start falling onto the city.

Notes:

I belatedly gave this random planet a name, Valdoria, in earlier chapters, in case anyone was confused by the addition.

Chapter 6: Aftermath

Feral watches the forest burn from atop a temple spire. He doesn’t know what Gods it was built for, but it made built to last with thick stone and a steady foundation. It’s one of the tallest remaining buildings and safely nestled against a cliff.

In the distance, fires still burn, and Feral wonders what’s left of his home. Even if it survived the bombings, it’s likely been destroyed by the subsequent fires. He tries not to mourn it, but… he’d hoped their peace would last at least a little longer.

He hasn’t seen any ship overhead recently and no bombings since the GAR showed up. There’d been an aerial battle in those first few days, which looked like little more than a light show from below. Soon enough the fighting shifted to the ground, and the city is still crawling with droids and troopers.

It’s better than the bombings, at least. That doesn’t make it safe.

Movement, in the Northern sector. Blaster fire. The fighting is flaring up again. Feral quickly dismisses them and focuses his attention on the surrounding area. Let the soldiers fight; Feral has already abandoned that war. He keeps searching, and-

There.

Feral jumps off the spire, slowing his fall with the Force. He lands lightly and sprints through the streets. As he draws closer, he reaches out through the Force.

The impression of people blooms to life in his mind. The soldiers are the brightest, full of determination and focus. Fear, too, and the sour tang of it rises and falls with the fighting. One of them abruptly spikes with terror and pain before falling silent. Feral flinches away, though he tries to ignore it.

Further away, there’s another cluster of people. Fear and panic untempered by discipline. Civilians. Feral runs towards them, desperate to reach them before the fighting does.

He makes it.

It’s a small group. A family, maybe, including one Elder and a small child. One of the adults has a blaster, and she fires at him as Feral emerges behind them. Feral feels the blast coming and dodges it easily, raising his hands in supplication.

“I’m here to help. My name’s Feral; my brother and I lived by the forest.”

The woman is still pointing her blaster at him, but the barrel dips slightly.

“The Zabrak. You were friends with Adha,” she says.

The reminder makes a complicated mix of fondness and sorrow rise in his chest. Feral quickly tamps it back down and motions the group forward. “I can guide you somewhere safe. You’ll need to hurry; the fighting is getting closer.”

The sound of blaster fire and shouting is getting closer. They’re not in danger yet, but Feral is intimately familiar with how quickly a battle can turn. Thankfully, the group decides quickly.

The woman lowers her blaster and signs something at the others. They fall into line beside her, though Feral notices the child is kept away from him. Understandable; Feral approves of the protective instinct.

The group is embarrassingly civilian. They move slow and loud, though they were obviously trying to stay quiet. Feral leads them as best he can and hopes it’ll be enough.

They make it a few blocks away—enough that Feral is starting to relax—when he feels it. There’s someone else near the fighting. A single presence, and it isn’t moving.

Feral glances back, and he makes a decision.

“Go straight until you pass the old church. Then turn left and you’ll find a small alley. A lookout should be there to bring you in.”

That’s how it’d worked for the others Feral had guided to the slowly growing resistance in the tunnels. Feral preferred working alone, but he tries to help when he can.

“You’re leaving?”

She sounds nervous, so Feral spares her a smile. “You’ll be alright from here; there’s no fighting ahead. Something is happening on another street. I need to go back.”

The woman hesitates then touches Feral’s shoulder. “Thank you,” she says. “Please be careful.”

Feral keeps smiling. “You don’t have to worry about me. Just say safe, alright?”

“You too.”

They turn and keep going. Feral doesn’t watch them leave; he turns back towards the fighting. The presence is small and flickering. Injured, maybe, or unconscious. He’ll have to hurry.

Unfortunately, he has to slow as he gets closer. He can hear the sound of blasterfire. Men shouting. This close, their emotions are almost overwhelming. Feral reinforces his shields against them and presses forward.

He’s careful. Quiet. It’s bad luck when a stray bomb hits a nearby building next. Shrapnel ricochets past him, and a piece of twisted metal clips his shoulder. Feral breathes through the pain, and he stays standing. After the dust settles, he intends to keep moving.

But…

He can see the fighting through the newly collapsed wreckage.

There’s only a couple Troopers along this street. They’d been separated from the rest of their squad, and they’re struggling against the encroaching droids.

Feral knows he could help them. There’s only droids here, and he knows how to handle them. But he needs to keep a low profile. He’s doing what he can to protect the civilians; it’ll have to be enough.

Ashamed, Feral turns his head away. He only makes it a few steps before one of the Trooper’s presence flares in surprise and pain.

Feral can’t help it. He goes back, leaping over the rubble to emerge in the plaza. He takes in the scene in moments. A Trooper on the ground. A large, insect-like droid standing over him, its blade-like arms about to strike.

Feral reaches out with the Force and pulls the Trooper towards him.

The Trooper shouts, and he struggles as he’s thrown through the air. Feral ignores it and leaves him somewhere safe. He has bigger problems to focus on.

Three of the large droids are within sight. As soon as Feral is in view, they take aim and open fire. Feral can feel the blaster bolts coming, and he lets the Force guide his path. This part is easy enough, even for him. They’re only droids, and he trusts the Force to carry him through.

He ducks between them. One well-timed jump leaves the first droid between the other two. Unlike him, it’s too slow to avoid the blasterfire, and it collapses to the ground, smoking. He maneuvers another one into place beside a collapsed building. Then he reaches one hand forward and pulls on a loose metal beam. The beam rockets forward, impaling the second droid.

One left.

Feral turns, but he doesn’t have to do anything. The remaining droid goes down to a well-placed blaster bolt. A second Trooper is standing behind it, blaster raised.

He’s staring at Feral. They both are; the first soldier is back on his feet and only slightly scraped up. Feral ducks down and wishes he had something to hide behind. He’s only ever used the Force in front of his brothers, and he’s spent his entire life keeping a low profile.

Suddenly, Feral realizes he hasn’t thought this through. He’s revealed himself to the Republic Army. Moreover, he used the Force in front of them. What’s he supposed to say?

Feral strongly considers turning and running, but the first Trooper starts speaking before he can.

“You’re a Jedi?” he asks.

Feral looks away. “No,” he says. “Sorry.”

He’s about as far from a Jedi as you can get. Barely trained, and by the wrong side too.

Feral motions to an intact road beside them. “The rest of your group is over there. You should rejoin them; the fighting is mostly over now.”

Their Force presences are starting to calm; the sharp focus and fear giving way to relief. They’ll be organizing themselves again soon. Pushing their line further into the city. The two Troopers exchange glances, clearly communicating over their comms. Feral gives their equipment an interested glance before dismissing it; their comms are probably short ranged or a closed circuit to bypass the blackout. Not something Feral can use to contact Savage.

Feral slips away as they talk. He doesn’t regret getting involved, but he’s wasted too much time already. The single presence from earlier hasn’t moved, and it feels so very scared.

It leads him to a partially collapsed house. He frowns. Load-bearing walls are gone, and he can feel the instability of what remains. He’ll need to be careful. He picks his way across rubble and onto some intact flooring, minding his weight.

He sighs when he feels the two Troopers approaching. He could outrun them, but right now Feral has bigger problems to worry about. He waits for them to walk into sight then shouts down.

“Stay there. Someone’s inside, and the building is unstable,” Feral says.

Thankfully, they listen. Feral leaves them to their quiet conversation and focuses on the presence inside the ruined building. He ducks past several collapsed walls and rubble until he finds a small, mostly intact corner and the person hiding under a piece of debris.

It’s a child. Male, if he had to guess. Feral isn’t familiar with the species, but he can’t be more than half-grown. He flinches away from Feral and bares his teeth in a weak threat display.

“It’s alright. I’m here to help,” Feral says, keeping his voice soft and smooth.

Back on Dathomir, he’d often help look after the village Littles. This child isn’t Zabrak, but Feral recognizes the child’s instincts. He’s in pain. Afraid. If Feral moves wrong, he could spook the child. The entire building is unstable, and Feral doesn’t want to test their luck.

He settles down instead. Makes himself seem smaller. He keeps talking: reassurances and soothing phrases. Eventually, the child starts to relax. When Feral reaches towards him, he tenses right back up. Feral stills and keeps talking. Slowly, the boy comes towards him. Takes his hand.

By the time Feral leaves the ruined building, he’s carrying the child. There are small arms wrapped around his neck and a tear-stained face hidden against his chest. The Troopers are, unfortunately, still standing where Feral left them.

What a mess.

“Is it too much to ask that you two walk away and forget this happened?” Feral asks without any real hope.

Of course, the two Troopers stay exactly where they are. They’ve taken their helmets off, so Feral can at least see their expressions. The one on the left has the grace to look embarrassed. The one on the right—facial hair, forehead tattoo—smiles unapologetically.

“Sorry, we have orders to figure out what’s going on.”

Of course they do.

“Nothing interesting,” Feral says as he starts to walk. “You should focus on the real fighting.”

The two fall into step beside him, and Feral can feel them watching him. He wishes he could be angry. If he was willing to be cruel, he could use some rubble to pin the two in place and run. That would leave them vulnerable to attack, though. Feral isn’t willing to risk it.

“I’m Fives,” Goatee-and-tattoo says. “This is Echo. If you’re not a Jedi, then what are you doing here?”

“I lived here,” Feral says.

The words are sharper than he’d intended. Lived. Past tense. No matter what happens next, he and Savage can’t stay. They’ll have to start over again, with a new planet and people. It was hard enough settling here. Savage was finally relaxing around him, and Feral-

Feral breathes in. Breathes out. Readjusts the child’s weight in his arms and reminds himself that they’re at war. Many people have lost more than him. He and Savage will survive this too.

“My brother and I came here a few months ago to escape the war. I’ve picked up a few things about the Force, but I was never formally trained.”

Savage had been Maul’s Apprentice, after all. Feral’s training had been an afterthought, picked up in bits and pieces when his brothers visited. Besides, he’s never even touched a lightsaber.

“You don’t act half-trained. The way you took down those droids was just…” Echo trails off, shaking his head, but Feral can feel his admiration in the Force. He ducks his head to hide the warmth rising in his cheeks.

“I wasn’t planning on getting involved,” he admits. “I’ve stayed away from the fighting. It was just luck that I was nearby.”

 He remembers turning his back. Taking that extra step away. If he’d been a moment faster, he would’ve left them behind.

“Hey, however it happened, I’m still grateful. We were in a tough spot, and who knows what would’ve happened if you hadn’t stepped in?”

“But-”

Fives laughs, and his amusement is bright and genuine. “Just relax and take the compliment! Don’t worry, if you’re so embarrassed about it, I promise not to tell anyone about how you came running to our rescue. It can be our secret.”

He nudges Feral’s shoulder, and Feral can’t help but laugh. It’s been days since he had reason to be happy, and Feral struggles to muster up that frustration about them following him.

They have nice presences in the Force too: bright and confident and curious. It’s a pleasant change from the fear and suspicion he’s been surrounded by recently.

“So, do we get to know the name of our rescuer?” Fives asked.

Feral hesitates a moment. Long enough for Echo to elbow his partner and grumble something at him.

“It’s Feral,” he says and braces himself for their reaction.

He knows the Nightbrothers have an unusual naming tradition. Dathomir is a harsh planet and the Nightsisters even worse. Their names reflect that and act as their own quiet prayer for strength.

People here… Well, they’re not rude. Not exactly. But there are enough people that hesitate over his name or find it amusing. A few offered him nicknames, and Feral had tried not to be insulted. He’d mostly succeeded.

“Feral,” Fives repeats, sounding his name out slowly. Then he smiles. “Well, Feral, I can honestly say it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

He radiates mild curiosity, but… that’s it. No confusion or judgment. Feral smiles helplessly back.

“You as well,” Feral says. Unexpectedly, he means it.

Chapter 7: Meeting the Survivors

“So where are you taking the little guy?” Echo asks as they walk deeper into the city. He and Fives keep scanning their surroundings, and Feral breathes easier with more eyes keeping watch. He doesn’t sense any fighting nearby, but droids don’t give off a Force presence. He’s been surprised by them before.

“Most survivors are in the tunnels. I was planning on leaving him with them.”

If the child was lucky, he had surviving family that had taken shelter underground. If not, the other survivors would look after him. One way or another he’d be safe.

Both Fives and Echo perk up.

“So there are more survivors! With how few people we’ve run across, we were getting worried. The Separatists have been known to take the locals off-planet or hold them hostage,” Fives says.

His Force presence gains an edge, one that speaks of old grief and anger. Another reminder that the war is bigger than this one battlefield. This is just one more tragedy in a string of them, and Feral is already so tired.

“Mind if we come along?” Echo asks. “We’d like to make contact with whoever is in charge.”

Feral hesitates before answering. “This was never a Republic planet. I can’t guarantee your welcome.”

There’d rarely been any talk about the war or the two sides. The planet was on the outer edges of Republic space, and the Senate laws had little impact even before the war. It’s possible that sentiment has soured against both sides of the war since the occupation.

“That’s fine. Help us find them, and we’ll handle the rest.”

Feral nods, and they keep walking. Soon enough they reach the tunnel entrance. As always, there are a few guards lurking in nearby buildings. Feral lead Fives and Echo towards them, and he deliberately stays in the middle of the road. The two guards spiked in alarm when they saw them. Then one of them gasps, and their Force presence flares with delight.

“It’s the Zabrak!” Feral hears before said guard walks out from her cover. It’s a humanoid woman, and she looks so pleased to see him that Feral is momentarily baffled.

“Ah… hello?” Feral says. He definitely hasn’t met her before. He thinks? He’s gotten pretty good at telling humans apart, but sometimes he still makes mistakes.

She approaches, seemingly unconcerned about the two armed Troopers at his side. For a moment Feral worries she’ll try to hug him, but she thankfully stops a few feet away, still smiling.

“It is you! You brought my sister to us a few days ago. Kriff, you must've guided dozens of people to safety.  Are you coming inside this time?”

Feral nods, and the guard gestures them towards the carefully hidden entrance to the tunnels. The two Troopers get more suspicious stares, but she lets them pass without comment.

The first guard stays, and the second guides them down. It’s a short climb, but it leads them past multiple branching pathways. None of the glowing moss grows here, and Feral doesn’t see any markings as they pass. Feral approves of the extra security, even as the near-darkness and close quarters make him uneasy.

 “What’s your name?” Feral asks as they take a sharp turn down a particularly narrow passage.

“I’m Kamea. My sister is Amai; a bit shorter than me, darker hair. She was with her partner and newborn when the attack came.”

Feral thinks back, and he think he remembers them. Especially the small bundle of fabric that had been the newborn.

“We stumbled across a droid. Your sister is a good shot.”

“That’s them! You’re name’s Feral, right? We did some asking around and found some folk who recognized you. They also mentioned a brother; big fellow, quiet?”

Feral nods, grateful that Savage had kept to himself while on-planet. He doubted anyone here even knew his name.

“He was traveling when the Separatists attacked. He’ll have turned his ship around as soon as he heard about what happened.”

“You think he’ll try to come here?” Kamea says, and her skepticism is obvious.

“Yes.”

Savage had undoubtedly panicked when he heard about the attack, and he’d tear the entire world apart before giving up. He was coming. The only question was when.

“Well, if he’s anything like you, I’m sure he’ll do just fine.”

He can feel her earnestness, and it feels strange. He can’t remember the last time Savage was compared to him instead of the other way around. It had to have been when Savage was still small, long before he’d become the strongest fighter in their village.

“These are Echo and Fives, by the way,” Feral says, half to change topics and half because he knows names are important to the Clones.

Kamea spares them a polite nod but nothing else. With one last turn, they emerge into a large, brightly lit cavern. Feral blinks, momentarily blinded, and is impressed by what he sees as his vision clears.  The cavern has numerous indentations and walls dividing up the space, and several walkways stretch overhead. Most importantly, there are people.  Resting and working and preparing for the ongoing siege. The area practically glows with life in the Force, especially compared to the destruction above them. Feral hopes to slip in unnoticed, but Kamea immediately ruins that plan.

“HEY!” she shouts. “I FOUND OUR CRYPTID!”

She pulls Feral further into the room, pushing him front and center. Several people look up, and a whisper ripples outward. Soon enough, a crowd starts to form, and all these strangers are staring at him.

Feral shrinks backwards, and he almost stumbles into Echo. The Trooper steadies him, and Feral feels better with Echo’s hand supporting him and the two Soldiers at his back.

“You’re popular, huh?” Fives said, and Feral can feel his amusement.

“I guess?”

It’s not like he forgot about the people he helped, but he put them from his mind after they reached safety. He's glad so many seem to be doing well. It’s also awkward. Very, very awkward.

“FERAL!” a familiar voice shouts, and he looks up to see Adha barreling towards him. The crowd parts for her, and Feral has a moment to realize she isn’t slowing down. He catches her easily. Relief eclipses his unease, and he grins down at her.

“Adha! You’re alright!”

“I’m alright. I’m alright. You’re the one who’s been skulking around outside since this whole mess started!”

Feral shrugs, unsure if he should apologize. Adha doesn’t feel angry, exactly. More amused and excited. Before he can decide, Adha takes a step back to look at the Troopers behind him.

“You brought some interesting friends with you too,” she says, and there’s an edge of wariness in her voice.

Feral can’t blame her. They’ve carved out a refuge for themselves, and it must be difficult seeing soldiers here. He can only hope he’s making the right choice.

“They offered to help any survivors. Who’s in charge around here anyway?”

Adha grins. “You’re looking at her!”

She spreads her arms out wide, and Feral belatedly realizes the crowd around them has been quietly dispersing. Giving them privacy, though he can still feel the prickle of their attention watching him.

“Congratulations,” he says quietly. “You’ve done a wonderful job.”

Adha scoffs and waves him off, though there’s a slight flush of embarrassment to her cheeks.

“All they needed was a bit of organization. And someone to give them the occasional kick in the pants.”

Feral allows the deflection. Especially when she looks at the Troopers again, and her humor drains away.

“Can we trust them?” Adha asks quietly.

Feral takes time to think. His word apparently has weight here, and he can’t bear the thought of leading them wrong.

“The two Troopers are honest. They’re really trying to help,” Feral says because he’s felt it to be true. “I don’t know about the army itself or what their plans are, especially after the fighting ends.”

Adha nods along, biting her lip in thought. She sighs. “Well, their plans can’t be worse than the Separatists. They just want us all dead.”

She scrubs at her face, takes a deep breath, and pushes her hair back. Feral can practically see her shouldering the weight of her responsibilities again.

“Thanks, Feral. You better be planning on sticking around this time. It’s not fair you get to run around playing hero while I’m stuck talking to people, ugh.”

“We’ll see,” Feral says.

He hadn’t been planning on staying, but he’s not against it. Especially since he’s the one bringing the Republic army to their doors. He isn’t thoughtless enough to throw soldiers at Adha and run away.

It's not what he wants, but this is war. If Adha thinks he'd be more helpful here, then Feral is willing to try.

---

He, Fives, and Echo are guided further inside. Set down and given food. Somebody tries to take the child from Feral’s arm, but he whimpers and holds on tighter. His panic is suffocating, sharpened by his youth, and Feral tries to soothe him.

“I’ll watch over him a little longer,” Feral says.

Echo and Fives get permission to call their Generals and open negotiations, which is easier said than done. Their comm setup works better than anything else nearby, but it still takes several tries, a signal magnifier, and a trip to the surface to get the message out.

Then they wait.

Somehow, Feral ends up with two Troopers on either side of him. They keep talking and laughing and casually distracting the strangers that keep trying to approach Feral.

Feral appreciates their kindness. Really. He just… doesn’t know what to do with it. Besides, he still has the child wrapped around his torso, which is more than enough to keep him busy,

“Are you hurt anywhere?” Feral asks him, which earns him a quick headshake against his neck.

“Can I set you down?” he tries next. It prompts a much more intense rejection as the child tightens his grip. Feral can feel his fear and uncertainty, and he can’t begrudge him whatever comfort Feral can offer.

Fives shifts closer to Feral’s side, and he smiles at the child.

“I’m Fives, and this is my partner, Echo. What’s your name?”

The child peaks out from behind Feral’s shoulder.

“Quiet, huh? That’s fine, I have younger brothers like that. Some haven’t even picked a name yet, can you imagine?”

Fives transitions easily into a story about baby brothers and training mishaps. Feral focuses more on the child than the words as he slowly relaxes his death grip on Feral’s tunic and leans towards Fives. He seems fascinated by the painted designs on Fives’ armor. Fives eventually lures the kid off Feral’s lap entirely and into his own, and he shoots Feral a triumphant grin.

Beside him, Echo snorts. As he shifts, his shoulder brushes against Feral’s side, and he stays there, pressed lightly against Feral's skin. Feral jumps, surprised, but doesn’t pull away. It's been a long time since anyone touched him casually, and he's missed it. Savage is still so hesitant around him, and he's been completely alone for the past week. Echo is warm, and the press of his and Fives' minds feels good. And-

Huh.

There’s a faint thread of attraction in Echo’s Force presence. Fives’ too.

A flush gathers on Feral’s cheeks, and he tries to ignore it. He’s sensed people’s attraction towards him before. Kriff, he’s been propositioned a couple times since arriving on-planet. This is the first time in a while he’s been tempted to respond.

He likes the feel of their Force presences. The determination and loyalty running thickly through them. They're not unattractive either, especially for humans.

They're also soldiers in a war Feral had been desperately trying to outrun. Feral knows he should pull away--for their sakes and his own--but there's been little enough gentleness in the past months. Feral isn’t ready to stop, so he lets himself stay where he is and enjoy it.

---

Since the invasion started, Feral has been constantly on alert. There’s a constant risk of attack or explosions, and Feral has stolen naps in bits and pieces. It wasn’t enough, but Feral managed.

For the first time in a week, Feral is safe. He’s surrounded by allies. Fives and Echo are at his side, radiating warmth and safety. So, he shouldn’t be surprised that he dozes off against Echo’s shoulder.

He wakes slowly. There’s something strange at the edge of his Force sense, but in the moment it’s hard to be concerned. He feels good, and he wants to enjoy the moment. Then the thing he’s leaning against moves, and Feral suddenly realizes who he’s leaning against.

He should pull away and apologize and a dozen other things that he doesn’t do. Instead, he stays where he is and takes advantage of them for a little longer. Echo has an arm around him to support his weight, and Feral feels his chest rumble as he laughs at something Fives says.

Feral could’ve easily fallen back asleep, but there’s still that spark from earlier. It’s getting closer: a Force presence that’s radiantly powerful. It’s as strong as Maul feels but with a very different edge: something softer, without those jagged edges.

A Jedi. It has to be.

Feral reluctantly opens his eyes and pulls away. His breath catches when he meets Echo’s eyes, but Feral ignores the pang of attraction. This really isn’t the time.

“I think you’re General just arrived,” Feral says as he straightens. Fives is at his other side, close enough to touch, and the child is sprawled between them.

For a moment, Feral imagines what it would be like to lay back down and curl up between them. It’s a nice thought, and Feral pushes it away before it can take root. Instead, he stands and looks towards the cavern entrance.

The Jedi isn’t alone. There are several other Force presences with him. Quieter, but with that same sensation of discipline and determination as Fives and Echo. Other Clone Troopers.

Feral takes a deep breath. Then another. It doesn’t really help. He’s never met a Jedi before. Most of what he knows comes from some very colorful rants from Maul, and he wasn’t the most objective source.

He jumps when Echo touches his shoulder. He and Echo are also standing, and Echo has the child in his arm. The child is waking and irritated, and he reaches towards Feral. He settles as soon as Feral takes him.

“You can relax, alright?” Fives says. “The Generals are good men. You can trust them to help.”

Feral nods along and pretends to be convinced. “Good men” or not, Feral doesn’t want to know how they’ll react if they realize who Feral is. He doubts anyone would believe that he isn’t some spy or Separatist sympathizer. Feral doesn’t want to deal with that fallout. And… if things go wrong, he doesn’t think he can fight off a Jedi.

He takes another deep breath. Even if he wanted, it’s too late to leave now. He’s always been good at going unnoticed. He can handle this. There’s no other option. Echo and Fives still looks worried, and Feral tries to smile at them.

Then the Republic group walks into sight, and Feral freezes. He immediately recognizes the Jedi walking towards him.

“Kenobi,” Feral whispers, and his head feels like it’s full of static.

Echo looks at him. “Have you met?”

Feral shakes his head and tries desperately to calm his mind. He can’t afford to panic. Can’t afford to act suspicious at all, not in front of High General Obi-Wan Kenobi.

“I’ve heard rumors. That’s all,” he says faintly.

It’s true, in a way. He’s heard plenty about this Jedi from his brothers. Even if most of it was threats and plots to kill and/or torture the man. Maul liked to get creative.

This is the man who cut his brother in half. Who left him half-dead to claw for survival for a decade. Feral should hate him on principle, but hatred has never come easily to him. Instead, he mostly feels ill.

Kenobi is leading a cluster of a dozen Troopers, and he walks straight towards them. Feral manages to meet Kenobi’s gaze and finds only mild curiosity there. Kenobi turns towards Fives and Echo.

“Troopers. Good to see you’re still in one piece,” Kenobi says, smiling serenely at them.

They salute. Fives turns towards him and tries to motion him forward. “We had help. This is Feral, the local I mentioned in our earlier message. He helped us against the droids and guided us here.”

Feral tries not to react as Kenobi looks back towards him. Meeting Kenobi’s gaze is hard. Feral has to break eye contact after a few seconds, and he busies himself with soothing the child.

“You have my gratitude, Feral. Both for looking after my men and helping us establish contact," Kenobi says, and it's almost worse that he's obviously trying to be gentle and welcoming towards him.

“I’m just trying to help,” Feral says when he finds his voice.

That thread of panic isn’t getting better. He wasn’t prepared for this, and Feral decides to leave before he can make a worse mistake. He bows to Kenobi and mutters something about helping the child. Then he runs away.

Chapter 8: Adha's Request

It’s a while before Feral can calm down. He spends it pacing back and forth along the outskirts of the cavern. If anyone asked, he was mapping out the different paths and openings. Nobody did.

Stupid. Stupid!

He was supposed to be keeping a low profile. All he had to do was stand there and smile while the Jedi talked. Mouth some cheap pleasantries until Kenobi got bored. Instead, he panicked and ran. Kriff, he made everything so much worse.

Maybe he can just stay back and hide until the Republic soldiers leave. Surely they won’t stay long. Hell, he could even duck outside until that happens. Adha would forgive him. Except, he's still holding the kid.

Feral glances down at the child, who is now half asleep against his shoulder. His emotions have finally settled out, and he doesn’t feel as scared anymore. Just tired and sad.

Over the past couple hours, Feral has gotten used to the child’s weight in his arms and his warmth through the Force. He’s already spent more time with the child than expected. It’s past time to let him go. After that, there’s nothing to keep him here while Kenobi hangs around.

Feral ignores the small pang of disappointment about never seeing Fives or Echo again. They’re Republic Troopers. They were always going to leave.

Feral heads to the nursery. He’d noticed the cluster of children on one of his circuits, and it isn’t far. A small barricade keeps the youngest children contained, and several adults watch over the group. Everyone looks over as Feral approaches.

Feral picks his way over to the adult at its center and offers a shallow bow.

“I found this one in a collapsed house earlier today. There weren’t any bodies, but I don’t know what happened to his guardians,” Feral says.

The human beckons for Feral to hand the child over. Stroking his head one last time, Feral does. The child tolerates the transfer with only a little soothing, and soon enough he relaxes back into sleep.

Afterward, Feral hesitates just long enough to feel a small hand grabbing at his clothes. The other children have converged, curious and looking for entertainment.

Feral intends to walk away. Somehow, he finds himself being pulled into their games instead. He keeps meaning to leave, but somehow he can’t quite manage it. He’s missed watching over the children of his tribe. Children are easy to please. They touch his markings, and they ask to play games. Feral can’t help but oblige.

It’s hard to walk away when he knows the only things waiting for him outside are fear and isolation.

So he stays, and eventually he feels Fives and Echo coming towards him. Even then, he could go. Slip out the back and skirt the cavern edges until he’s out in the streets. Yet, he can’t bring himself to move.

The children are a good excuse to keep his eyes down as Fives and Echo approach. They pause at the edge of the nursery, and Feral focuses on the two younglings in his lap with a third tugging on his sleeve. One of them grabs at his horn, and Echo stops her before she can hurt her hand.

“You’re good with children,” Echo says.

Feral shrugs. “I helped look after them in my village. Everyone did.”

He’d volunteered more often than most, but everyone kept an eye on the younglings. Dathomir was a harsh planet, made worse by the Sisters. They couldn’t protect each other, but the Sisters didn’t care about the youngest Nightbrothers. They, at least, could be protected, and any Brother would die to save a younger clanmate.

“Are you alright?” Echo asks. “You left rather quickly.”

A polite way to say Feral barely lasted a minute before awkwardly running away. Feral grimaces.

“I’m fine. I was just… overwhelmed.”

He’d barely been prepared for a Jedi to appear, and then it’d been Kenobi. Feral knows he’d made a fool of himself. He sighs.

“I was rude. I should probably apologize,” he says reluctantly. He doesn’t mind apologizing—he’s never suffered from that sort of pride—but he doesn’t fancy the idea of seeking out Kenobi. He could still leave instead. Ruder, maybe, but at least Feral wouldn’t be around for the fallout.

Fives snorts and settles against Feral’s side.

“Don’t worry about it. The General doesn’t mind. Kriff, I bet he’d feel more awkward about receiving that apology,” Fives says.

Feral is honestly surprised. Most powerful people he’s known enjoy any shows of deference. Then again, it’s not as if he actually knows Kenobi. Maul’s rants weren’t particularly enlightening about his personality.

“Tell me about him?” Feral asks. He can pretend he’s gathering information, but mostly he’s curious.

“The Jedi? Or General Kenobi in particular?”

“Either.”

Fives grins and shifts into a more comfortable sprawl. Nearby, Echo takes over entertaining the cluster of children. One child determinedly inches her way up Echo’s armor while he pretends not to notice.

“So, first thing, General Kenobi isn’t really our General. We’re stationed together so often he might as well be, but we’re actually assigned under General Skywalker. He’s still topside with the rest of the army, which is good because the amount of explosions and disaster goes up exponentially when those two are together.”

He launches into a story about their last combined mission, which features an impressive amount of explosions. Plus a disastrous attempt at negotiations and some pointed comments about lost robes. Echo jumps in often, adding details and context. He’s probably the better storytelling, though Fives wins out on enthusiasm.

It’s nice. A good story and good company, and Feral finds himself laughing easily. The fondness they have for their Jedi radiate off them, and Feral can’t help but relax into the sensation.

He feels a bit guilty about it. He knows he’s supposed to hate Kenobi for how he hurt Maul. Part of him wants to, but the best he can muster is some anger and an old, tired sadness.

---

They’re still in the nursery when a young man finds Feral with a message: Adha wants to see him. Alone.

Feral doesn’t consider refusing. Fives and Echo make him promise to rejoin them later, and Feral finds himself agreeing. He knows it’s stupid, but he wants it. He’s done few enough things for himself in the past weeks. Surely there’s little enough risk to staying a few hours longer.

Adha had taken over a small nook in the center of the camp. There’s a cluster of activity around the area, which Feral slips quietly past. He hesitates at the entrance to Adha’s space. She’s bent over a desk with several sheets of flimsi

“Adha?” Feral asks.

Adha motions for him to sit in front of her, and Feral obeys. She stares at him for several long moments. Feral squares his shoulder and meets her gaze. Already, he doesn’t like the tight swirl of emotions around her. She’s upset, and Feral already has a bad feeling about where this conversation will go.

“First of all, I need you to know that you’re welcome here. You can rest and recover and do kriffing nothing for as long as you want, and everyone here will be happy to have you.”

She hesitates, and Feral finishes the thought for her. “But there’s something else you want from me,” he says gently.

This isn’t a social call, after all. They wouldn’t be here with Adha so unhappy if that was all she wanted. Adha winces.

“You can say no, and there won’t be any consequences.”

Feral believes her. He also knows there isn’t the faintest chance he’ll turn her down. Not if this is half as important as it seems.

“What is it?”

Adha folds her hands in front of her, looking every inch the leader she’s become. “The GAR is asking for our help. They have the firepower, but they don’t know the planet. The Separatists overran the Capital, and the Republic is struggling to get a foothold. They don’t know the tunnels or the locals, and they’re making little headway above ground.”

“They want a guide,” Feral says. “I’m your best option.”

Possibly her only option. Plenty others knew the tunnel systems, but few were fighters. Fewer had any experience with war. And nobody else had Feral’s Force sense for finding people.

“Like I said, you don’t-”

“I’ll do it,” Feral says.

Really, there’s no other option. If he refuses, then someone far less prepared will be sent in his place. Feral won’t allow it. Not while his own objections are so minor in comparison.

Adha looks at him. Sighs.

“Thank you,” she says quietly.

She pulls out several sheets of flimsi covered with maps and tells Feral what she knows. It’s quite a bit. People and contacts and hideouts. Facts and conjecture. Feral doesn’t ask how she knows any of it, though he wishes he had time to hear her stories.

“I’d come with you if I could,” she says, tracing a map wistfully. “They need me here more. None of the civvies know how to hide or organize, and I can’t leave them.”

“You’re a good leader,” Feral says

Adha smiles slightly, though it looks strangely sad. “Though not a good friend. You deserve to rest, but I’m already asking more from you.”

She reaches for a datapad in a clear dismissal. Feral hesitates. Adha feels dim and unhappy, and Feral doesn’t want to leave her like this.

“It’s late; I doubt the Republic will leave before morning. If you have the time, I’d like to spent some time together. It’s been too long since we had a chance to talk.”

He feels a flash of surprise followed by pleasure. Her next smile is far more honest.

“I’d like that. I have some work to finish first, but we could share the evening meal? Just the two of us.”

Feral leaves with a time and a promise. For one more night, he sets aside thoughts of the Jedi and the army. Dathomir had taught him, over and over again, to take whatever time he has and use it to the fullest.

He gets his good night. Adha finds him, and they have a relaxing meal, perched in some half-hidden crevice where nobody disturbs them for hours. They laugh and share stories, and it’s the kindest goodbye Feral has ever had.

---

The next morning, Feral wakes early. The GAR is already a buzz of activity as they prepare to leave, and Feral can feel Fives and Echo in the middle of the group. Feral drops down and slowly approaches.

One of the other Troopers nudges Fives, and he turns around. He breaks into a wide grin and jogs over.

“Feral! I was starting to think you weren’t gonna keep your promise.”

He clasps Feral on the shoulder, and Feral can’t help but smile. “The situation changed. I figured you wouldn’t mind.”

After all, this wasn’t a goodbye anymore. He’ll be coming with them. Despite his concerns, he’s happy he can stay beside the two men a bit longer.

“Is Echo free?” Feral asks, glancing towards Echo’s Force presence. He’s with another cluster of Troopers, lost in conversation.

“Don’t worry, he’ll come. This isn’t as much time as we wanted, but maybe…” Fives says, staring intently at him. His hand is still on Feral’s shoulder, and his grip shifts into something softer.

Feral’s breath catches, and he senses that same thread of attraction as yesterday. Before he can respond, his attention is abruptly drawn to the side, where Kenobi is moving towards them. Feral tenses for a different reason and turns to face him, ignoring Fives’ quiet curse.

Adha is at Kenobi’s side. She spares Fives a curious look as she and Kenobi stop in front of them. Adha motions Feral forward.

“This is Feral; he’s a personal friend of mine and knows the paths better than most natives. I trust him to guide you.”

Kenobi smiles at Feral and gives a short bow, clearly meant to put Feral at ease. “Ah, yes, we spoke briefly yesterday. It’s good to see you again, Feral.”

Feral smiles back, and it’s only a little strained. “You as well, General. I look forward to working with you.”

It’s a blatant lie. He’d much rather avoid the Jedi entirely, but Adha asked him and the Troopers could use his help. If Kenobi senses the deception, he has the grace not to comment on it.

There’s another reason the Republic might prefer a different guide, though. Something they deserve to know.

“I have to warn you: I’m also looking for my brother. Once we find each other, I plan on leaving with him. I can only help until then.”

General Kenobi frowns. “Your brother; you were separated in the attack?”

His voice has that edge of concern, almost pity, that means he thinks Feral’s brother is likely dead. Annoyed, Feral shakes his head.

“He was off-world at the time. He’ll have come running as soon as he heard about what happened.”

General Kenobi inclines his head. “Then I wish you two luck, and I’ll gladly accept your assistance until that time comes.”

There’s a Trooper standing slightly behind General Kenobi. He steps forward, brandishing a datapad. They share a few quiet words before General Kenobi looks back.

“I’m afraid we’re rather short on time. Is there anything pressing you need to finish before we leave?”

Feral shakes his head, and General Kenobi turns towards the rest of his troops. Adha stays behind.

Feral hesitates before turning back towards Adha one last time. She’s watching him.

“Stay safe, alright?” Feral says.

Adha laughs and punches him in the shoulder. “Pretty sure that’s my line, Feral. Be careful while you’re out there. Don’t do something stupid and get yourself hurt.”

“Don’t worry. I’m good at surviving.”

Adha pulls him into a rough embrace. Feral carefully returns it, trying to memorize the vibrant shape of her in the Force. Too soon, Adha pulls back.

Fives is still behind him, and Echo is at his side; he must’ve walked up while Feral was distracted. Feral turns away from Adha, and he joins the Troopers.

It feels weird, being the one to leave. He’s much more used to being left behind. It isn’t any easier on this side.

Yet, as Fives and Echo fall into step beside him, that ache is easier to bear. He’s not alone. He can keep Fives and Echo for a little longer, and his brother is still out there. He’s determined this won’t be the last time he sees Adha too. Even if it takes years, he’ll visit once it’s safe.

“You’re coming with us? That’s great!” Echo says.

Feral nods. “You needed a local guide. I volunteered.”

If it hadn’t been for Savage or Kenobi, he would’ve offered without hesitation. Both to watch over Fives and Echo and to strike back at the Separatists in a way that hurts.

Echo seems pleased, but Fives keeps glancing back, distracted.

“So. Adha. The two of you…?” Fives asks. He feels… disappointed?

Feral stares back, confused, and he laughs when he realizes what Fives is really asking.

“Adha is a friend. Besides, she’s really not my type.”

There’s that spike of interest again from them both. Feral can’t stop a smile, especially when Fives throws an arm around his shoulders, but he still isn’t sure what to do about it. At best, he has a couple weeks until Savage arrives. Not enough time to start anything, even if he wasn’t hiding secrets.

He can enjoy their company, at least. For as much time as they’re given.

Chapter 9: Into the Dark

Ironically, Feral has spent most of the last week above ground, where he could see the city and move quickly through its streets. The tunnels feel eerily quiet and unchanged in comparison. Their steps echo through the empty paths, and none of the violence of the attack has reached this deep.

As soon as they leave the well-lit cavern, the Troopers try to activate their headlamps. Feral waves them off.

“Later. We don’t need that yet.”

Fives and Echo turn off their light immediately, and the other Troopers follow shortly after. It takes a few more steps—and at least one Trooper banging into a wall—before they reach the glowing plants spreading across the ceiling. A few more, and it’s bright enough to make out their surroundings.

“We can follow this for a while before it splits off. We’re deep enough we shouldn’t run into any droids. Be careful, just in case.”

The cultivated plants mean this is a public tunnel, even if it’s a less traveled one. Any public map would include it. He can only hope that the Separatists didn’t consider this area important.

He’s not alone anymore, though. Against a standard patrol, Feral likes their chances. As they walk, Fives and Echo stay by his side, and he’s relieved when Kenobi hangs further back with the other Troopers.

They eventually reach a bend in the tunnel. Fives and Echo automatically follow the path left, and Feral stops them.

“This is where we’ll need those lights,” he says.

He takes Fives’ arm and guides them to a shadowed nook along the other wall. Even as Fives and Echo shine their lights forward, they’re almost within arms reach before the opening reveals itself. It looks like a pool of darkness in the wall, and Feral can feel the Troopers unease at the sight. Feral goes first, ducking inside.

 It’s a bit of a squeeze for the Troopers and their armor, but they make it without much trouble. The small entrance quickly opens up and slopes gently downward. As they walk, beams of light bounce around them from the Troopers’ helmets, guiding their way in the total darkness.

Feral runs his hand along one of the walls and smiles as he feels the markings carved into it. He knows exactly where they are and the path ahead. This isn’t what he’d wanted when he first stumbled across Fives and Echo, but he can’t deny he enjoys feeling useful.

A few hours pass before Feral has to stop and consult Adha’s maps. They’re far out of the city by then, past where Feral has explored before. The marking system is the same, at least, even as the tunnels twist and split in a maze of paths. Adha’s maps are remarkably detailed, and Feral studies them until he’s confident he understands the directions.

“Someday I’ll have to ask Adha where she got this,” Feral idly comments. Echo is looking over his shoulder, though Feral doubts he can understand the drawings. It uses the same marking system as the tunnels, and Feral suspects the diagrams are deliberately designed to be  confusing.

“It’s that unusual?”

Feral nods. He might be a relative newcomer, but he pays attention.

“The deeper tunnels are intentionally difficult to navigate, and most families only know a handful of those paths. Actual maps are quite rare, especially ones this complex.”

Either Adha has done some extensive exploration herself, or she had access to considerable resources. Either way, he’s sure it’s an interesting story.

Someday, he’ll get a chance to ask. After the war.

The rest of the group settles in for a short rest while Feral reviews the paths ahead. Feral very deliberately doesn’t panic when Kenobi turns his attention towards them. He doesn’t seems suspicious about Feral, and it’s normal for him to be curious. Even if Feral wishes the Jedi would leave him alone.

Unfortunately, Kenobi soon makes his way towards them. He greets Fives and Echo warmly, exchanging pleasantries before turning his attention to Feral.

“Adha mentioned you’d only recently come to Valdoria. Your coloring is rather distinctive; are you from Dathomir?” Kenobi says.

“You’ve been there?” Feral asks, interested despite himself. He hasn’t been back to the village since his brothers came for him, and he aches with curiosity.

Kenobi nods. “Once. I was trying to learn about the newest Sith apprentice.”

Feral can’t help but flinch away. Kenobi, unfortunately, notices.

“You knew him?” Kenobi asks.

Feral curls in on himself and wishes fervently that he were anywhere else.

“I remember when Ventress took him,” he says. It’s not an answer, but it’s still a truth. Feral has always been bad at lying, and he’d rather not push his luck with a Jedi.

“That’s an interesting choice of words,” Kenobi says diplomatically.

Feral chokes on a laugh.

“She was a Nightsister. Nobody ever wants to go with them. Especially not ones like her.”

From the moment Ventress had arrived, they’d known she would be worse than most. Other Sisters didn’t expect fights to the death. They didn’t feel like rot and shadows. Feral hadn’t known what he was sensing back then, but he’d known Ventress was dangerous in an entirely new way.

Kenobi nods, but Feral can tell he doesn’t understand. Not really. Why should he? This human has fought Maul and Savage, but he doesn’t know what it means to be a Nightbrother, helpless against the whims of the Sisters.

“Ventress killed four other Brothers who didn’t meet her standards. We had to stand there and watch.”

It should’ve been five, he doesn’t say. Feral would’ve died there too, if Savage hadn’t submitted in exchange for Feral’s life. Then Ventress changed him and stole his mind, and these humans don’t have the right to judge what the Sith turned Savage into.

But some truths aren’t safe to share, and these Outsiders don’t deserve to know their secrets.

“My brother and I escaped Dathomir after that. I don’t know what happened to the others. If you’ve been to the Nightbrother village, then…”

He trails off, uncertain how to finish. Kenobi looks troubled anyway, though he quickly hides it again.

“I’m afraid there wasn’t much time for pleasantries. The village was rather displeased at our arrival,” General Kenobi says with an edge of humor. Feral feels cold.

“You fought,” he says flatly. “Let me guess: you just walked into the village without warning. Probably had your lightsaber on display.”

He could almost picture it. An armed, obviously powerful stranger suddenly appearing, and so soon after Ventress had killed or taken their strongest fighters. General Kenobi seems to recognize Feral’s displeasure, and the humor in his voice faded.

“I had hoped for a diplomatic solution. Unfortunately, we were ambushed as soon as we reached the village.”

“Of course they attacked! The only Offworlders who come to Dathomir are thieves and slavers, and you walked into our home.”

Just thinking about it makes Feral upset. The Nightbrothers had little enough they could call their own, and they weren’t allowed any technology. The Sisters defended them from any Offworlder raids, but the few times they hadn’t—either from carelessness or as a punishment—had been devastating.

Quieter, he asks, “Was anyone hurt?”

“Fortunately not. We were able to get the information we needed and leave without bloodshed.”

The information about Savage. Another Brother, and one recently taken. No Nightbrother would’ve volunteered that information. Not to a stranger.

“How?” Feral asks.

Everyone is watching by then. Feral knows he should apologize and retract the question. He’s the outsider here, and he can’t afford to make enemies. But this was his village, and he needs to know.

“There was an older warrior directing the fight. I was able to restrain him and convince the others to stand down.”

There’s only one person he could mean.

“Brother Viscus?” Feral says. “Wait, you held Brother Viscus hostage?”

General Kenobi doesn’t quite look away, but he seems unsettled by Feral’s naked distress.

“At the time, it seemed my best option for avoiding bloodshed,” General Kenobi says evenly. There’s a touch of regret in his tone, though he doesn’t dishonor his actions with an apology.

They were left unharmed, Feral reminds himself. The General didn’t know their ways, and he did the best he could. The thought calms the stirrings of anger in Feral’s chest, leaving only a tired regret behind,

“I should scout ahead. Excuse me,” Feral says in a blatant excuse to get some space. He stands and walks away, putting distance between them until he can breathe again.

He stays within sight of their lamps. It isn’t long before he sees two split off after him. Fives and Echo.

Feral could easily avoid them if he wanted. Instead, he stays where he is and waits.

They stop just out of reach. Both their helmets are off, and Feral can’t quite meet their eyes. Echo is the first to reach out, touching Feral’s shoulder. After a moment, Feral leans into the touch. It’s not the comfort he wants—especially now, when he wants his brother so much it aches—but it’s a comfort nonetheless.

“Are you alright?” Echo asks.

Feral nods. He’s been through much worse and been fine afterward. He’ll be alright with this too.

“I mean no disrespect to the General, but I’d have preferred working with any other Jedi,” Feral says, more honestly than he’d intended.

How was it that, despite this being their first meeting, he and Kenobi had so much history tangled between them? This attack and Maul and and ten years of misery.

Echo is quiet for several moments.

“General Kenobi is one of the best men I know,” he says carefully

Feral quickly cuts him off. “I’m not angry at him. I believe he had good reasons for everything that happens. It’s just… unfortunate. How everything played out.”

The statement feels inadequate, but it’s all he has to offer. He wishes he could look at General Kenobi without imagining him walking into his village. Wielding his lightsaber against Nightbrothers.

Cutting Maul in half.

Feral breaths in. Breathes out, and releases the lingering anger. Here and now, it isn’t a constructive emotion. He has to do better.

“Tell me another story about him. A kind one,” Feral says.

With only a little awkwardness, Fives does.

---

They can’t wait for long. They rejoin the group, and Feral picks his duty back up as they keep moving. He’s relieved when General Kenobi doesn’t try speaking with him again. He isn’t ready for another serious conversation.

The journey to the Capital takes the entire day, and they make camp outside the city. As soon as the call to stop goes out, the Troopers fall into a well-worn pattern of setting up camp. Soon enough, there’s a perimeter and Troopers settling down in organized clusters. Feral hesitates along the outskirts, unsure where to go.

“Hey!” Fives shouts and tosses something at him.

Feral catches it on instinct and is surprised to feel fabric.

“I noticed you didn’t have supplies, so I hunted down an extra pack. You’re welcome.”

Feral snorts, but he appreciates the gesture. There hadn’t been time to grab supplies before being pulled into this mission. Then Fives slings his arm around Feral’s shoulders and guides him towards a knot of Troopers, half hidden in a shadowed alcove. Echo is already there, and Fives herds Feral next to him.

“Hey guys, this is Feral! We like Feral, so make him feel welcome,” Fives says, grinning as he takes his place at Feral’s other side.

Amusement flares around the group, and a chorus of greetings rises up. There’s a few teasing comments in a strange language—Mando’a?—which Fives merrily answers.

Fives makes introductions, and Feral is relieved that most Troopers have tattoos or facial hair. He struggles to tell humans apart at the best of times, and their markings make it easier.

A Trooper with a large cogwheel tattoo—Jesse—speaks first.

“So I hear you’re the one who saved these idiot’s shebs yesterday! Thanks for that. They’re a handful, but the place wouldn’t be the same without ‘em.”

“Hey, Echo and I are ARC Troopers! We can handle ourselves,” Fives says in mock offense.

They fall easily into conversation. Gradually, Feral relaxes. He’s often cold, and it’s easy to sink into the warmth from Echo and Fives. The Force sings here, surrounded by laughing Troopers. A family, Feral thinks, and it’s been too long since he’s felt the Force shine so brightly.

Fives nudges Feral’s side, and he belatedly realizes someone asked him a question.

“Hmm?”

“You mentioned a brother earlier; what’s he like?”

Feral shifts so he’s leaning more comfortably against Echo’s side. He should probably be more concerned, but he’s too comfortable to spoil the evening.

“I have two brothers, technically. I only grew up with the younger one though. And… Protective, I suppose. He was insufferable the first time he beat me in a spar. ”

Feral smiles at the memory. He’d been so proud to see Savage growing strong. You needed it, to survive on Dathomir.

“He’s quiet, but a decent storyteller once he gets going. Terrible singing voice though.”

Somebody nudges Echo, and the conversation quickly devolves into insults about singing abilities and a hastily planned competition for their next shore leave. It’s unanimously agreed that Echo is the worst singer of the lot, and Echo huffs and grumbles something under his breath.

Eventually, the conversation turns to tattoos. It’s a very popular topic, with several Troopers already planning out their next addition. Feral doesn’t escape their attention for long, and another Trooper—Hardcase—eventually turns to him.

“You’re from Dathomir, right? You’ve got the tattoos, so-”

Feral stiffens at the mention of Dathomir, with all its unpleasant memories. Before he can say anything, Fives twists around to stare intently at Feral’s face.

“Wait, those are tattoos?” he says, leaning close. He pokes at the markings under Feral’s eyes.

“Only some of them!” Feral says, laughing as he bats Fives’ hands away. ”Most are natural markings, but we add tattoos to accent them.”

The tattoos had their own meanings, and the village Elders designed them for each child. Some were Clan markings. Others reflections on the child’s personality or hopes for their future. It’d been a comfort to look around and always see the marks of family.

The evening passes comfortably. One by one, the group drifts away, to help with camp or find someone else. Jesse is the last to leave, half-dragging Hardcase behind him. Belatedly, Feral realizes that leaves him alone with Fives and Echo. If he strains, he can see movement in the main part of the cavern, but their nook is fairly well hidden.

Feral probably should’ve expected the kiss.

Fives presses in, all lips and tongue and teeth. Feral kisses back, too surprised to think. It feels good, and he likes Fives. Likes him and Echo, and as he pulls back to catch his breath, Echo is there, pulling him into another kiss.

Echo’s kisses are softer, deeper. Feral lets himself be drawn closer. He has Echo in front of him and Fives at his side, watching, and Feral wants.

Eventually, though, the kiss ends, and Feral is left to face the real world. Echo sees the look on his face and grimaces.

“No?” Echo says. A rueful smile is already tugging at his lips, and he pulls away. Feral grabs his shoulder before he can go far.

“I haven’t been completely honest with you,” Feral whispers. “I’m…”

He trails off, uncertain how to finish. There’s so much. The war and Savage and Maul. It’s too dangerous to tell them. Not his secrets to spill, and Feral knows he shouldn’t have let it get this far.

“So tell us now,” Fives said.

Feral winces.

“I can’t. Sorry.”

Maybe it would go well. Maybe they would understand that he and Savage left the war and are just trying to survive. Or maybe they’ll decide Savage is too dangerous to leave alone. Savage has killed more than his fair share of men, most of them Clones and Jedi, and they’d be well within their rights to want revenge. Despite everything, Feral would choose his brother over anything else.

So. Better not to risk it.

“Sorry,” he repeats, quieter.

He expects them to pull away. He’s barely more than a stranger, and they have little enough reason to trust him. Fives and Echo share a glance. A short exchange in Mando’a.

“Kriff,” Fives says. “Does this secret of yours put anyone in danger.”

“It won’t,” Feral promises. He wouldn’t let Savage hurt anyone here, no matter what.

“And you have a good reason for hiding it?”

He nods.

“I can live with that.”

He reaches up, brushing his fingers along Feral’s cheek. When he doesn’t pull away, his touch firms, and he slowly pulls Feral into another kiss. It’s gentler this time. Careful. Feral is breathing hard by the time it ends.

“You should walk away,” Feral tries one more time. ”This could change whether you want anything to do with me. I’ll be leaving soon anyway, no matter what happens.”

He doesn’t pull away from them, though. Doesn’t want to. Maybe he’s being selfish, but it’s been a long time since he’s wanted someone like this. Their emotions swirl headily around him, and he wants everything they're offering. Even if it’s just for a couple nights.

Fives smiles and steals another kiss. “Hey, don’t underestimate us! We’re soldiers. Nothing we have is permanent. We can’t live by being afraid of the future.”

Behind him, Echo leans close, settling his hands along Feral’s hips.

“We don’t get to have many nice things. You are very nice, and we’d like to have you as long as we’re allowed.”

Feral tips his head back and laughs, though he can feel warmth rising in his face. His laughter trails off in a gasp as Echo shifts more firmly against him, and his hand skims across the skin beneath his tunic.

“If you’re sure,” Feral says quietly, and he leans into another kiss.

 

Chapter 10: For a night

Notes:

So I had a VERY CLASSY fade to black. Then a friend teased me about it, so of course I had to sit down and write 2k of smut. There’s no plot here. If you’re not interested, feel free to skip this entire chapter without missing out on anything else.

Feral has never lain with a pair before, and he doubts he’s met anyone as in-sync as these two. Their emotions are almost suffocating like this. Excitement and lust and intense focus. Feral shores up his mental walls against them, but it’s increasingly hard to concentrate.

Echo’s hands keep moving under his shirt, growing bolder as Feral returns the touches. He runs his hands across the thick muscles of Fives’ shoulders and leans back against Echo’s chest. Echo’s hands run along his sides, squeezing gently, and Feral sighs into Fives’ mouth.

Soon enough Echo tugs at the hem of his shirt, and Feral helps him pull it off completely. The air feels cold against his skin, but Feral flushes under the weight of their attention. Fives especially seems fascinated by Feral’s markings.

“Tattoo or marking?” Fives asks, tracing one of the longer marks along his side. It ends in a curve along Feral’s ribs, and he shivers as Fives presses a kiss to it.

“Tattoo,” Feral says, and his voice is lower, almost rough with growing arousal. The marks themselves aren’t sensitive, no more than the rest of his skin, but the way they touch him, curious and achingly gentle. He can feel how much they want him. How determined they are to make this good for him. 

Fives picks another, thicker mark next, one that sweeps low across Feral’s stomach. He kisses its center, and his hands keep following it lower. Feral stops him before he goes for the tie on his pants.

“I refuse to be the only one naked,” he says and tugs pointedly on Fives’ shirt. Laughing, Fives shrugs his shirt off and tosses it aside.

Feral hasn’t seen a naked human before. It’s strange to see so much unmarked skin and the light dusting of hair. He touch Fives’ chest, just above his hearts—no, heart, humans only had the one--and trails his hand down. His skin is softer than a Zabrak’s too, and he shivers under Feral’s touch.

He doesn’t realize Echo undressed as well until he’s pulled back again, and Echo’s bare skin feels like a brand against his. He shudders then whimpers as Fives crawls forward, pressing their chests together so he’s surrounded on all sides.

“You alright?” Echo whispers.

Feral nods. “It’s just- a lot. It’s been a while.”

“Let us know if you need a break. We’re not in any hurry,” Fives says, serious despite the intense lust radiating from him.

Feral smiles and pulls Fives closer. Overwhelmed or not, he definitely doesn’t want to stop. He wants to enjoy every moment, each sensation. They trade kisses like that, pressed against each other, until Feral feels dizzy with them.

He tilts his head as Echo presses warm, open-mouthed kisses along Feral’s neck. Then he bites down, hard, and Feral strangles a shout as he jerks up into Fives.

Echo laughs lowly and presses a kiss to the new mark. “Sensitive?” he asks.

“Zabrak,” Feral says, shuddering as Echo sucks lightly on his neck. “Bites are- they mean things.”

They’re more intimate than Echo would’ve intended. Zabrak teeth are sharp, after all, and they tend to scar. Even knowing it’s different, lighter, it leaves Feral shivering on the edge of too much.

“Good things?” Echo asks. Feral nods, and Echo bites down again, just above Feral’s collarbone. Feral whimpers, gasping as Echo worries the skin between his teeth.

He’s fully, achingly hard by then, though he doesn’t realize how uncomfortable it is until Fives reaches down and presses his hand firmly against him. This time, when Fives goes to loosen his pants, Feral doesn’t stop him. He shifts his hips to help, and then he’s completely naked in front of them.

Feral has never been self-conscious, but he can’t fight down a blush at the way Fives and Echo look at him. His legs are sprawled open, and he starts to shift into a less vulnerable position. Fives catches him instead and pushes his legs further apart, making room for himself between Feral’s thighs.

“You’re so pretty,” Fives says, tracing one of the markings that runs from the tip of Feral’s cock down to the base. It’s a tease, and Feral has to fight to stay still. 

“Pretty?” Feral repeats, gasping as Fives squeezes him more firmly. “T-that’s the best you can come up with?”

Fives grins and kisses the side of Feral’s shaft. “Like a work of art.”

Echo pulls him into another kiss, deep and increasingly desperate, so he can’t see when Fives takes him into his mouth. He feels it though, wet and perfect. He tries to move, to get closer, but he’s pinned in place. Hands on his hips and Echo’s arm across his chest. Feral pulls against their grip, just enough to feel their strength as they hold him down.

Fives reaches down further, and his finger presses against Feral’s entrance.

“Interested?” Echo asks, and Feral nods.

He isn’t sure where Fives gets the slick. There’s the soft sound of a container opening, and when Fives’ hand returns it’s coated with a thick liquid. He spreads it around, brushing teasingly against Feral’s entrance and coaxing the muscle into relaxing. Then Fives swallows around him at the same time he pushes in, and Feral groans at the conflicting sensations. It’s good and it’s so much, leaving Feral splayed open in front of them. There’s the pleasant ache as Fives stretches him open, the intense pleasure of his mouth, and Feral still isn’t allowed to move. Only feel.

Echo rubs soothingly at Feral’s skin and murmurs to him in Mando’a, though Feral can feel how hard he is. The intent way he watches Fives’ mouth spread open around him.

Feral whimpers when Fives pulls away and tries to thrust forward, but he doesn’t have the leverage. Fives sits up and pulls him into a bruising kiss. Feral groans as he tastes himself on Fives’ tongue, and he kisses back just as fiercely. They’re both panting when the kiss ends. Fives is still grinning, though. Excited.

“I want to watch Echo fuck you. That sound good?”

Feral shudders as Echo sucks another bruise into the side of his neck and nods.

“Please,” he says, voice hoarse.

Hands grab his thighs to guide him up. Feral watches Fives reach lower, and Echo’s breath hitches. Then he feels a pressure at his entrance, and those hands coax him down onto it. There’s a moment of intense pressure, the bright ache of stretching muscle before it gives way.

Echo curses, and Feral whimpers as he’s pulled slowly, carefully down onto him.

He feels different than anyone Feral has taken before. Thinner and smoother, and fuck, Feral has missed this. The warmth of having someone around him, inside him. Arousal burning low in his gut and the heady mix of pain and pleasure as he adjusts.

When he’s fully down, nestled in Echo’s lap, Fives presses a kiss to Feral’s thigh.

“Beautiful,” he says, and the kiss turns into a sharp bite. Feral jerks then cries out as he feels Echo shift inside him. Echo curses and grinds up into him in response, and Fives laughs as he watches. He squeezes Feral’s thigh, rubbing his thumb along the new bite mark, before leaning back.

“C’mon. I want to see you move,” he says.

Feral gets his knees underneath him and pushes up. He slowly sinks back down, still adjusting to the stretch. Echo’s hands on his hips guide his movement, and he’s surprised the first time Echo thrusts up to meet him. Fives watches them with heated eyes. He occasionally reaches out to touch or press a kiss against heated skin, but mostly he watches them move.

It’s easy to fall into a rhythm. Pleasure washes over him in gentle waves, building steadily higher. He’s so hard it hurts, but when he reaches down Fives catches his hand before he can touch himself.

“Not yet,” he says and presses a kiss to Feral’s palm. Feral tries to glare at him, but he can’t focus with Echo thrusting into him and the pleasure curling up his spine.

Fives says something to Echo, and he stops. He pulls free entirely, leaving Feral empty and aching. Feral curses at him and presses down, but Echo only laughs, though his voice is strained. Then he pushes Feral forward into Fives’ arms. Feral panics for a moment as he loses his balance, but they don’t let him fall.

“Relax, we’ve got you,” Echo says, and Feral trusts them.

He lets himself be rearranged on his knees with Fives supporting his weight. Fives pulls him into a desperate kiss, and Feral groans as Echo settles behind him. He takes his time about it too, running his hands along Feral’s markings and spreading his cheeks to get a good look. Feral shudders as he feels some of the slick drip down. Pressing a kiss to Feral’s shoulder, Echo lines himself up again.

Echo’s first thrust drives all the air out of Feral’s lungs. The second makes him keen, and he scrambles for something to hold onto. There’s only Fives, and Feral clings to him as Echo keeps up a punishing pace.

Feral feels scrapped raw, drowning in lust and sensation. Finally, Fives reaches down to grab Feral’s cock, and it’s so good it hurts. He’s barely coherent enough to mind his horns as he hides his head against Fives’ shoulder, caught between Fives and Echo and rapidly coming undone.

Then Echo bites down on the back of Feral’s neck, and he’s gone.

Orgasm sweeps over him in a powerful wave, and he jerks helplessly between the two. He curls forward, holding onto Fives and riding out the intense pleasure. Distantly, he hears Echo cry out and feels him grind in deep as he follows. Echo stays there, panting, for several moments before groaning and pulling free.

Fives guides them both to the ground. Feral half-collapses onto him, and Echo stays glued to his back. Fives grunts, and it takes Feral a moment to realize he’s taken his cock in hand and is furiously stroking himself. Feral leans forward those last few inches to kiss him, and he bats Fives’ hand away to takes its place. Fives groans and thrusts up into Feral’s fist. It doesn’t take long before he comes as well, cursing and panting into Feral’s mouth.

Feral hums, pleased, and cleans his hand against the ground. It’s only marginally effective, so he reaches towards a nearby rag and, with a touch of effort, pulls it into his hand

“Useful,” Fives says, watching him with half-lidded eyes. Feral smiles at him and cleans them up before retaking his place between the other two. It takes a moment to find a comfortable position—one where he doesn’t have to worry about accidentally stabbing someone—but sleeps comes easily with them beside him.

Chapter 11: The Capital

The next morning, Feral wakes slowly. He’s pinned between two warm bodies with limbs strewn around. Fives and Echo are still out, their minds soft and content with sleep. Feral stretches, enjoying the brush of skin against skin.

It’s early, but he can hear the other Troopers starting to move around. He’s debating waking them when Echo stirs. His arms tighten around Feral’s chest, and Feral feels him sigh against the back of his neck. It’s quickly followed by lips, and Feral shivers against the soft kiss pressed to his skin. When his hands start to wander, Feral regretfully stops him.

“I don’t think we have time for that,” he says, voice rough.

Echo sighs, disappointed, before pushing himself upright and giving Fives a shove. Fives wakes with a yelp and flailing limbs. It takes him a moment to realize where he is and why, and he shoots Feral a very smug grin. Feral just laughs.

As Fives stretches, Feral notices new discolorations along his skin. Bruises. Some are light, but others are already blossoming into vivid colors. Feral frowns and touches one of the deeper bruises along Fives’ side

“I didn’t realize you bruise so easily,” Feral muses with a quiet pang of guilt. Human, he reminded himself. Their skin was softer than a Zabrak’s. More fragile.

Fives looks down at himself and laughs.

“What, you think a couple lovetaps like these are a problem? I get worse than this in a normal spar. Trust me, you’d have to work a lot harder to do any real damage.”

Feral relaxes, but he resolves to be more careful next time. He doesn’t like hurting people, especially by accident.

They dress quickly, with teasing comments and laughter. It’s strange, in a way. He’s never been with anyone outside his village, and he’s used to already knowing his partners. For all that he likes Fives and Echo, they’re almost strangers. It’s not unpleasant, and they don’t let it become awkward. Just… strange.

As they emerge into the larger tunnel, several faces look up. They are met with teasing grins, a few wolf whistles, and some cheerful shouts in Mando’a. Fives slings an arm around Feral’s waist and shouts back, radiating smugness.

At his other side, Echo feels worried, and Feral glances at him, head tilted in a silent question.

“You alright?” Echo asks quietly and gestures at the surrounding crowd. “I know most natborns are more private about this stuff.”

Feral laughs. “Don’t worry, I’m used to it. I come from a small village. Privacy was in short supply.”

Maybe not quite like this, but few secrets survived long amongst the Brothers. Besides, there’s no malice in their teasing. Only lighthearted cheer and mischief.

Still, there isn’t much time for teasing or chatter. Soon enough, the tunnels are clear, and they move on. The walk is no different than yesterday. Narrow, winding tunnels and little conversation. Feral moves slower and has to rely more on Adha’s maps. Taking a wrong turn would be too easy in the darkness, and Feral is determined not to make mistakes. They can’t afford the lost time.

As they approach the city limits, Feral hesitates. There are far more options here. Deep or shallow, quick or winding, and a dozen other choices to pick between. Right now, he doesn’t know enough to make that choice.

The thought of talking to Kenobi still makes his chest tighten with unease, but it’s not that same panic as before. He can do this. He has to, or else he might as well turn around and abandon the mission now.

Kenobi smiles as Feral approaches. Feral focuses on that and the kindness he’s shown, and he pushes the other memories down.

“We’re inside the city limits. What now?” Feral asks.

“We need to get as close to the city center as you can take us. That’s where the Separatists entrenched themselves.”

“Would you prefer speed or stealth?”

Kenobi takes a moment to think before answering. “Speed, I’m afraid. I have a feeling we may not have time to waste.”

Feral nods, and he mentally picks out some paths. Nothing too dangerous—they’d waste more time fighting off patrols—but several shorter paths skirt the edges of public tunnels. They’re likely their best bet.

Then the Separatist stronghold and droid army. A proper battle; nothing like the small skirmishes Feral has seen before.  That’s when it hits him he’ll be walking into a true war. Sure, he’d known when he agreed to come, but the thought hits differently now that the fighting is almost upon them.

General Kenobi seems to recognize his unease, and he clasps Feral on the shoulder.

“Don’t worry, Feral. I have seen many battles, and this is one that can be won. You have already done us a great service by leading us inside and introducing us to the local resistance. For that, you have my gratitude.”

Feral flushes at the praise and looks away. “I know it’s not much,” he says quietly.

General Kenobi only chuckles. “On the contrary; it is more than I could have asked of you. I am certain that your assistance has saved lives that would otherwise have been lost.”

Feral is relieved when General Kenobi gives him one last pat on the shoulder and stops talking. Moreso when he recognizes Fives and Echo nearby and reminds himself why this mission is so important.

---

Feral does his best to balance finding the fastest paths and skirting the most likely patrol routes. They’re approaching the area beneath the central streets when Feral hears the clank of droids approaching.

He freezes, waiting. They’re near a connection point with a public tunnel, and he listens carefully. The droids come closer. Then they pass by, separated from their group by only a few feet of stone. The droids are in the main tunnels, and they don’t notice the subtle opening to the one where their group is hiding.

As the noise fades again, Feral takes a shaking breath and releases his death grip along the tunnel wall. He jumps when he feels an armored hand on his shoulder. Echo.

The Troopers’ headlamps are dark, so the only light comes from the opening to the main tunnel. It’s barely enough for Feral’s eyes, so even in armor the humans must be half-blind. He squeezes Echo’s hand and keeps holding it, guiding him forward in the darkness. 

They’re several steps past the connection point before headlamps start relighting behind him again. Feral reluctantly releases Echo’s hand, and he’s grateful when Echo stays nearby.

They move slower after that. There are more droids patrols, and their route takes them through shallower tunnels. Like this, Feral can sense the occasional group of people moving above them. Some are scared, others determined. Nobody panicking or hurt, though.

They’re almost at the central square when Feral frowns and glances upwards. There’s something at the edge of his senses. Something sharp and unpleasant. Fear. Pain. A small starburst of sensation, and one of the presences winks out.

“We’re late. They’re already fighting,” Feral says, and he starts to run.

It’s a struggle to pace himself. He’s their guide, and he has a responsibility to the men following him. He can’t leave them behind to lose themselves in the tunnels, but he can feel others dying above them. Finally, they break into the surface.

He can hear blasterfire. Shouts. The fighting can’t be far. Feral eyes the alleyways and squat buildings. A hand on his shoulder stops him from leaving. Feral turns and finds General Kenobi staring at him.

“You shouldn’t run ahead. We need a plan, or we’ll risk causing more harm by jumping in carelessly.”

Feral hesitates just long enough to consider his words. To recognize what it would mean to hold back and stay with the Troopers. Then he feels another light wink out, and he makes his decision.

“I’m not a soldier. I don’t know your strategies, and you wouldn’t know how to use me anyway. Make your plans, and I’ll help as best I can.”

This time, General Kenobi lets him go. Feral moves as fast as he can, using the Force to push harder, leap further. The streets are strange to him here, but he uses the Force presences as his guide.

He can feel which ones are determined and fierce and which ones are only afraid. He heads there first, to the edges. The ones who are losing and so terribly frightened.

He slows as he approaches. Edges around the last corners, careful to maintain cover as he climbs one of the buildings. He’s not like Savage; he doesn’t belong on the frontlines, and he knows better than to charge into danger. Stealth has always been his specialty, and he makes full use of it. He ducks around one last wall, and the fighting below comes into view.

Battle droids. A narrow alleyway. A handful of people holding a breaking line, and two bodies already lying still on the ground.

The battle droids keep advancing, ignoring the Rebels’ blasterfire. Breathing deeply, Feral reaches into the Force. He can feel how fragile the surrounding, damaged buildings are. It only takes one good Pull to collapse the closest one atop the droids.

Feral lowers his hand and drops down near the Rebels. They freeze, staring at him in disbelief.

“Move!” Feral shouts, and they snap out of it.

One of them is young, barely more than a child. He clutches at a blaster, face white with panic. An older man grabs him by the shoulder and pushes him ahead.

Feral doesn’t pay attention to where they go. Doesn’t care if they’re fleeing or running to help others. For now, they’re alive.

The impromptu barricade won’t hold long. Already, he can hear the droids cutting through it, even as he collapses another section of rubble atop them. Then Feral leaves, disappearing into an alleyway as he runs towards the next cluster of people.

He doesn’t need to destroy droids or hold a line. He has no idea what the Rebels are trying to accomplish or whatever battlefield tactics are in play. He just finds the next person terrified or in pain, and he does his best to help.

He feels when the Troopers make their move. They’re soldiers, fierce and regimented, and they sweep over the battlefield in an organized line. He can feel General Kenobi too; a bright Force presence darting forward into the worst of the fighting.

They break the droid’s formation and surge forward. Feral wishes them luck and turns back towards the stragglers.

---

Eventually, there’s no floundering Rebels left, and Feral finds himself creeping towards the Clone Troopers in the thicker areas of the battle. He recognizes Waxer and Boil holding their own against a squad of droids. Undoubtedly they’ll finish off the droids soon enough, but Feral is in the right place to offer some help.

He reaches out and throws two of the droids sideways, where they crash into a half-dozen of their peers. In the resulting chaos, Waxer and Boil easily pick off the rest and are left standing in the intersection, glancing around.

Feral hops down and approaches them.

“I think the fighting is almost over,” Feral says.

Boil whips around with an oath, blaster raised, and Feral freezes. Boil lowers the blaster just as quickly though, laughing in relief.

“Feral! That was you?” he says, walking forward. He claps Feral on the back, and Feral unfreezes enough to smile carefully back.

“So that’s what Fives meant when he said you were like a Jedi! That’s a useful trick. You do it a lot?” Waxer asks as he takes his normal spot at Boil’s side.

“When it’s needed,” Feral says. He glances aside, towards where he can feel other Troopers riding down from their battle-highs. “We should join the others and find out what’s going on.”

He gets an enthusiastic agreement, and Feral leads them towards the largest group. General Kenobi is there, no longer running around, so Feral feels secure in saying the battle is over.

He’s right.

The Troopers are clustered together, and they’re not the only ones. There’s another group with them. People in dirty clothes and ramshackle armor. They burn with a fury that Feral recognizes; one of personal loss and grief. The local resistance. Kenobi is talking to a man towards the center, and he motions for Feral to join.

“Ah, Feral! There you are. This is Erek Caalgan, the leader of the people here.”

Feral bows in the custom of the locals: an ally to one of higher rank.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m a friend of Adha; she sent me here to help.”

The stranger’s face splits in a grin. “Adha! That blasted swindler is still alive? I swear that woman has the devil’s luck.”

Feral laughs and smiles back. “She’s currently leading another faction and doing well.”

“Of course she is. There isn’t a disaster in existence that woman couldn’t somehow turn to her advantage.” He turns towards the others. “Come, we shouldn’t stay topside longer than is needed. Underground is safer.”

They gather the stragglers, Troopers and Rebels alike, and head back into the tunnels. Feral tries to hang back, but he’s quickly surrounded by Troopers and guided towards the front instead. By now, their armor and Force presence is familiar. Fives and Echo soon catch up with him, and a tension Feral hadn’t realized he’d been carrying releases.

He’d known Fives and Echo were alright, of course. They’d been coming down from their adrenaline rush like the other Troopers, and their Force presences hadn’t been in any distress. Yet, he feels better with them at his side. Like they can manage the fighting to come as easily as this first battle.

Fives wraps his arm around Feral’s shoulders and together they all walk back into the dark.

Chapter 12: Running a message

Feral doesn’t have to do much after they reach the rebellion’s stronghold. He makes some introduction. Talks about Adha and the previous group. The conversation quickly turns to tactics, and Feral has little to contribute. Dathomir was composed of small settlements, and their wars were nothing like this.

Feral excuses himself, and he takes a few moments to walk through the camp. It fills several large caverns, and paths carved into the stone wind throughout. There’s so many people here, and the Force overflows with their emotions. Fear and hope and dozens of others mixing together. It’s enough to give him a headache.

The locals skirt away from him when Feral gets close. He doesn’t blame them. This isn’t like the other group. The people here don’t know him, and they have no reason to trust a stranger wandering amongst them.

Feral explores until he feels comfortable with the layout before turning towards where the Troopers have set up camp. They’ve taken over several alcoves on the outskirts of the area, a level or so below Feral's current spot.

He’s almost there when he senses Fives sneaking up on him. His Force signature has a distinctly mischievous slant. Fives is impressively quiet, but Feral can hear the soft scuff of his boots behind him. Hiding a smile, Feral lets himself be hunted.

When Fives makes his move, Feral is ready. He ducks under Fives’ grapple and grabs his outstretched arm. A pull to get him off-balance followed by a neat bit of footwork. Then, twisting Fives’ arm behind him, Feral pins him against a wall.

“Hey, Fives. Good to see you again,” Feral says, grinning. Fives drops his weight and shoves back. He gets some good force behind it, but he’s only human. Feral has the leverage this time, and he doesn’t budge.

“Fuck, you’re strong,” Fives says.

Laughing, Feral presses a kiss to Fives’ neck and starts to pull away. Fives’ presence flares with disappointment, and Feral stops. He leans closer instead so he’s flush against Fives’ back. His breath audibly catches.

“You like being held down?” Feral asks. He can feel that Fives does, but he wants to hear the confirmation.

“Sometimes. Depending on the situation.” Fives says, and his voice is rough. He shifts his weight and tests Feral’s grip, but Feral doesn’t give an inch.

Feral only needs one hand to hold Fives in place, so he’s free to touch with the other. He reaches under Fives’ blacks to feel the soft skin of his stomach and the firm muscle underneath. When he moves lower, he finds Fives already half-hard in his pants, and he thrusts up against Feral’s palm. Fives curses when Feral properly takes him in hand.

Quietly, Feral marvels at the differences. Softer skin. A strange shape. The important bits are the same though. Judging by the noises Fives makes, Feral thinks he’s doing alright.

“Fuck. Fuck, okay, let me-”

Fives tugs against Feral’s hold in a clear request, and Feral lets go. He steps back just long enough for Fives to turn around and pull him into a bruising kiss. Carefully, Feral presses him back against the wall again, and Fives groans.

He wastes no time in going for the tie to Feral’s pants. Feral doesn’t expect Fives to yank the cloth down entirely, but it’s hard to protest when Fives wraps a hand around him.

“You sure this is the right spot for this?” Feral manages to ask between kisses. They’re alone, but they’re not far from the rest of the camp. It would be easy for someone to stumble across them, and Feral isn’t quite that much of an exhibitionist.

“It’s just Brothers nearby. If anyone notices, they know to keep walking. ‘S close enough to real privacy. Anyway, I have some lube in my pocket, and I’ve been wanting to give this a proper test drive since yesterday. Any objections?”

He gives Feral’s erection a light squeeze to make his point, and Feral gasps. It’s very hard to think, but there was one other thing. Something missing.

Ah, right.

“Echo won’t mind?” he manages to ask.

He’s trying to do this right, which meant communication. Better to be sure about things. Fives shrugs, unconcerned.

“He’ll just be jealous he missed out. I’ll give him a blowjob or something to make it up to him.”

Feral can’t help but picture the two of them together. He shivers with want and presses harder against Fives. Fives laughs and pulls him even closer.

“You can watch, if you want. Or help out.”

That conjures up a rather different scene, and one Feral is rather desperately looking forward to. Right now, though, Fives demands his full attention, and Feral happily gives it to him.

---

They make it back to the main camp. Eventually.

Most of the Troopers are celebrating their victory with laughter and boisterous conversation. Feral is grateful when Fives steers them towards a quieter side of the space. Close enough to hear the rumble of conversation, but far enough that it’s not overwhelming.

It’s barely past midday, but Feral is exhausted.  It shouldn’t have been a surprise when he drifts off against Fives’ side.

---

Feral wakes up more gently than he has in weeks. Maybe longer. Through the Force, he can feel a bright, affectionate presence surrounding him. Not Savage; it doesn’t have that now-familiar edge of darkness, and Feral would’ve recognized his brother anywhere. It’s warm, though. Relaxed and safe. Feral rarely feels safe anymore, and he doesn’t want the moment to end.

So he stays where he is. Lets the moment stretch on as he drifts into consciousness.

There’s fabric under his cheek, and his head is pillowed on something soft. It shifts, and he realizes he’s resting on someone’s lap. Which means his arm is wrapped loosely around their stomach.

Fives, he remembers. Recognizes the Force presence pressing around him. He’d fallen asleep.

A hand settles on his head, and Feral sighs and leans into it. To his delight, Fives starts stroking the base of his horns. Feral melts into the sensation, and he feels his chest rumble in contentment. Fives pauses for a moment before renewing the strokes with new enthusiasm.

“Are you purring?” Fives asks, delighted. Feral cracks an eye open to shoot him a half-hearted glare, but he’s too comfortable to really mind. Besides, he liked the feel of Five’s amusement in the Force.

He’s a Zabrak, and the rumbling—or purring, as Fives called it—is perfectly natural.

At their side, somebody says something in Mando’a. It’s lighthearted, some sort of tease, and Feral can feel the amusement ripple out among the Troopers.

“Oh, shut up Jesse. You’re just jealous you don’t have a sexy Zabrak in your lap.”

Feral laughs, and he takes that as his cue to sit up. Regretfully, he pulls away from Fives. He doesn’t go far; he sprawls next to the other man, letting their shoulders press together.

“A sexy Zabrak?” he repeats, raising an eyebrow. Fives, of course, just grins and slings his arm around Feral’s shoulders, completely unashamed.

He can sense Echo getting closer, so he’s not at all surprised when he drops down on Feral’s other side. Echo still has his armor on with the helmet in hand, and he immediately starts pulling the rest off.

“So selfish of you, Fives, keeping the sexy Zabrak all to yourself. And while I was slaving away on patrol too!”

Despite his words, Echo is smiling. He has most of his armor off when he stops and grabs Feral’s shoulder. It takes a moment for Feral to realize he’s looking at one of the new marks Fives just put on his skin. Fives grins, looking very smug, and Echo gasps in mock-offense.

“Really, Fives? You couldn’t have waited just a little longer?”

“Nope! Don’t worry; we’ll make it up to you.”

Echo grumbles, but his presence lights up with anticipation. For now, though, he seems content to sit at Feral’s side and clean his armor. Feral leans against Fives, whose hand immediately comes up to stroke Feral’s horns again. Soon enough, Feral relaxes enough to start purring, and he chooses to ignore the resulting burst of triumph from Fives.

---

Feral isn’t sure what to expect when General Kenobi summons him that afternoon. He’s reasonably sure it’s nothing bad, but…

Well. Feral never had the best luck. It wouldn’t be uncharacteristic if he showed up and was immediately clasped in irons and held hostage.

He goes anyway. He knows how to follow orders, and he’s too invested in the GAR to leave quite yet. The General is in a meeting room towards the center of the encampment. Feral takes a deep breath, centers himself, and enters.

The room is dominated by a large table, and General Kenobi sits at its center. He’s stroking his beard and staring at a datapad. He looks up with a smile as Feral enters.

“You asked for me?” Feral says.

“Indeed I did; thank you for your prompt response. Please, have a seat.” 

Hesitantly, Feral sits at the indicated seat. He’s never dealt with this type of formality before. It feels strange.

“I regret that I have yet another request to make of you, Feral,” General Kenobi says. “I had hoped our comms network would hold, but it seems the Separatists are blocking all transmissions out of the city. We’re unable to send our other troops a message to coordinate our attack. I’m afraid we need to physically carry them a message. Would you be willing to take on that responsibility?”

Feral only needs a moment to think. Another trip through the tunnels; alone, this time. He's already proven he can move around safely, and he knows he could handle a droid patrol without trouble.

“I can do it,” Feral says. There was never another option. Not with Adha’s request, and not with this.

General Kenobi sighs, and he nods. “I regret that I cannot join you, but I’m afraid I’m needed here. ”

Surprisingly, he feels honestly remorseful about sending Feral back into danger. For a moment, Feral looks at him and is reminded of Adha. A leader determined to protect his people and carefully negotiating against the harsh realities of war. It would be much easier to dislike the man if he didn’t genuinely care about everyone under his command.

Feral acknowledges the thought and pushes it away. He doesn't need to decide how he feels about Kenobi now. He's doing this to help the war effort as best he can. Kenobi shifts and hands Feral a small satchel that clinks softly when Feral takes it. Flimsiplast. 

“General Skywalker and the main troops should be approaching the northern city limits by now. Knowing Anakin, I doubt they’ll be hard to find.”

Feral nods, already planning what path he’ll take. He stands to leave and is already halfway to the door when he realizes he’s being rude. He turns back, but General Kenobi is only watching him.

“May the force be with you, Feral,” General Kenobi says quietly. Feral bows back, and he walks away.

---

He finds Fives and Echo before he leaves. Fives’ smile vanishes when Feral gets close, and he groans.

“Ah, kriff, what is it this time?”

He smiles like it’s a joke, but there’s a hard glint to his eyes. Soldier. He can tell something changed, and Feral doesn’t waste time with pleasantries.

“General Kenobi needs me to run a message to the rest of the army. It’ll take most of the day.”

Their disappointment is sharp in the Force, but it's quickly followed by resignation. They know what's at stake and why Feral would've been chosen. Both press closer against Feral's sides, but they don't try to argue.

“When do you leave?” Echo asks.

“Right after this; I already have what I need.”

He doesn’t own anything besides what he carries with him, and he has no other goodbyes to make. 

“Aw, so no time for a quickie?”

Feral laughs. “Afraid not. Guess it’ll have to wait until after I get back.”

Fives steps forward and pulls him into a bruising kiss. When he’s done, Echo is waiting. It’s enough to make Feral wish he had a few extra minutes to spare, but he doesn't.

“We’ll hold you to that,” Echo says when he’s finished.

Feral hears what he really means. Stay safe. Come back. He nods and then has nothing left to distract himself. He leaves.

---

Feral expects something to go wrong. He trusts in his skills and the tunnels, but that’s how war is. Something is always going terribly wrong.

Moving through the tunnels is easier alone. He doesn't have to worry about the extra noise or leaving anyone behind. Occasionally he hears droids or movement, but it's easy enough to avoid. He doesn’t get caught. Doesn’t have any problems as he leaves the city.

Sticking to the shallower tunnels, Feral lets his Force sense spread out. Eventually, he feels pricks of light in the distance and heads towards them.

At the next crossroad, Feral heads towards the surface. Two of the Force presences are moving in a broad sweep near him; a patrol. Feral heads towards them.

The area outside the Capital is rough and mountainous, and Feral is almost on top of them before the two Troopers come into sight. He isn’t sure of his welcome, so Feral carefully drops down from his perch and approaches on foot.

"Hello," Feral says, and two blasters immediately point at him. Feral raises his hands, palms up in surrender.
"I have a message for General Skywalker from General Kenobi. Is he nearby?"

The two Troopers look at each other. One gestures with his blaster, and the other runs off to the main group. Sighing, Feral resigns himself to being held at blaster-point a little longer.

Thankfully, it isn't long before the other Trooper returns. With him is a Force present so bright it's almost painful, which can only be Skywalker. Skywalker himself is a standard Human male: tall with black Jedi robes and a notable facial scar. He already looks decidedly unimpressed with Feral's presence. 

Feral bows as best he can with his hands still raised. "I'm a local working with General Kenobi. He asked me to give you this."

Carefully, Feral takes off the satchel and holds it towards General Skywalker.

"You’re a local," General Skywalker says with clear skepticism.

"I immigrated," Feral says dryly. He keeps holding the bag out, and eventually Skywalker takes it from his hands.

He pulls out the flimsiplast and rifles through it, eventually passing one to a Trooper at his side.

"You can stop that. This guy's legit," Skywalker says with a distracted wave at the Trooper still brandishing his blaster. Feral relaxes, not that he’d been in any true danger. Deflecting a single blaster bolt is easy enough.

And, with that, Feral’s mission is successful. It feels a bit too easy, not that Feral is complaining. He keeps standing there, unsure what to do next and feeling rather like he’s been forgotten as Skywalker keeps reading.

"Do you want me to bring a response back?" Feral asks politely.

"Yeah, give me some time to sort through this, and I'll have something for you."

He turns around and starts walking back towards the main group, still flipping through the info. The Trooper who’d been at Skywalker’s side—the Commander? He’s pretty sure those are Command colors—hangs back.

“Thanks for the help, and sorry about the rough welcome. How are General Kenobi and his Troopers holding up?”

Feral smiles, and he’s relieved to have good news to share. Nobody has been killed and few hurt so far. The conversation helps ease the awkwardness as they rejoin the larger group and wait for Skywalker’s decision.

Chapter 13: The Factory

The Commander’s name is Rex, and he’s Fives and Echo’s normal Commander. The other Troopers are an easy topic, and Feral is starting to relax when he feels Skywalker returning. Feral quickly stands, and he meets Skywalker on his feet as the Jedi emerges from behind some boulders.

Skywalker has the satchel in hand, and he tosses it at Feral. He can feel flimsiplast clinking together inside.

“Let Obi-Wan know we’ll need a few hours to get everything into place, but we can make his plan happen,” Skywalker says.

Feral nods and slings the satchel back over his shoulder.

“Anything else?” he asks.

A grin spreads over Skywalker’s face. It’s a cocky, almost mischievous thing, and it makes him look younger.

“Tell him I bet my men can bring down the wall before his group sabotages the inner defenses. Losers owes the other division a round of drinks.”

Feral bites down on a laugh, and he nods. “I’ll pass that along,” he says. He can’t help remembering the Nightbrothers and their constant competitions over big and small things. Hunts and spars and carvings. He'd always been competitive, and this is no different. He's happy to help Kenobi win the challenge.

Skywalker clasps Feral on the shoulder before turning away. Rex falls into step behind him, and he only turns back long enough to offer Feral a polite nod. Feral returns it before turning back towards the city.

He sets off at a light run. He’s back underground within minutes, and he moves quickly through the tunnels. By now, the tunnels feel safer than above ground, and he’s relieved to be heading back.

As he nears the city, he picks up speed. Chooses the shorter tunnels instead of the deeper, more hidden ones. He barely thinks about it, too focused on getting back as quickly as possible. He doesn’t realize how careless he’s being until he skids around a corner and sees light in the distance. A Separatist patrol.

Hearts pounding, Feral freezes. The lights sweep over the tunnel in aimless patterns, and they’re moving slowly through the tunnel. They hadn’t heard him.

Barely daring to breathe, Feral backs away. When he has enough space between him and the droids, Feral turns and runs. He backtracks to the nearest split in the tunnel—a narrow crevice, so steep there’s handholds carved into the bedrock—and he swings down.

He walks partway down the new tunnel. Then he forces himself to stop and sit on the cold ground.

He’d been careless. Unacceptably so. Only luck had stopped him from running head-first into some droids. He could’ve put the entire Separatist army on alert and jeopardized the attack plan.

He’s never this kind of careless, especially not with such a straightforward mission. Something is wrong, and he isn’t sure what. So he forces himself to stop and  reach into the Force around him.

There’s… something. A shiver in the air. A budding headache in the back of his skull. Something doesn’t feel right, and the anticipation puts him on edge. It feels like something is pushing him forward. Like he’s supposed to be somewhere else, but he isn’t sure where or how. Except, there’s no reason to be anxious. He has plenty of time. Kenobi’s group is safely hidden, and Skywalker needs time to arrange his forces.

Despite his reassurances, the unease doesn’t go away.

Feral acknowledges the emotion. Then he pushes it away. It isn’t helpful right now, when carelessness could ruin everything. He stands, and he moves deliberately down the tunnel. That indistinct unease drives him forward, faster than he might otherwise have moved, but Feral doesn’t let it control him again.

He’s almost back when he hears the first explosion. It’s distant. Above ground, somewhere in the city.

Something went wrong.

Abandoning caution, Feral sprints forward. He’s near the access point to a public tunnel, and Feral barely slows to check for droids before leaping into it. Then it’s a matter of following the glowing paths towards the surface.

He doesn’t get far before seeing daylight in the distance. Feral stops. Then he runs faster. There shouldn’t be sunlight in this tunnel or any other. Not so deep underground or far away from an entrance.

He emerges into a section with debris blocking the way forward and the top carved out from above. Above, he can see the curve of a massive crater that stretches to the surface. Dust hangs heavy in the air, and the debris is still settling. A recent explosion, and one massive enough to reach this far down into the bedrock.

Feral picks his way onto the pile of shattered stone and heat-twisted wood and feels it shift beneath his feet. Feral breaths deeply, sharpens his focus to a point, and runs. The pile destabilizes, but he’s fast enough to stay ahead of the collapse. With one last jump, he clears the tunnel roof and emerges topside.

The damage is bad. Twisted metal and collapsed buildings. He doesn’t sense people, at least. Nobody trapped or injured. Further out, there are clusters of bright Force presences. Troopers and Resistance fighters, their minds fierce and determined.

He heads for the nearest cluster of Troopers. They’re moving quickly through the back alleys, but Feral is faster. He finds them creeping behind a building and drops down beside them.

“What’s happening?” Feral asks.

They jump. A couple raise their blasters, though they lower them just as quickly when recognition sets in. Feral knows Boil and Waxer by name, and the other four are only vaguely familiar.

“Kriff, you’re quiet,” Waxer says. “You were running a message to General Skywalker, right? Did you make it?”

Feral nods. “Skywalker agreed to the plan. They wouldn’t have had time to reach their position yet.”

There should’ve been hours left before anything happened. Hopefully Skywalker noticed the change in plans and reacted accordingly.

The Troopers turn towards the Trooper with several golden stripe along his helmet. The team leader, presumably.

“I’m Wooley. That fight yesterday drew some attention, and we had to move the schedule up a few hours. We’re assigned to take out the droid factory. Plenty of excitement, if you’re interested.”

Feral considers it. His return message to Kenobi is likely useless now, and trying to find the Jedi would just waste time. Better to help where he can.

“I’ll do my best,” Feral says.

Wooley chuckles and gestures at the others, and Waxer and Boil fall into formation beside him.

“We’ve seen you fight; we definitely want your help. It’ll be like having a Jedi-lite at our backs,” Waxer says, nudging at Feral’s shoulder.

Feral snorts but doesn’t protest the description. He’s nothing close to a Jedi, but he can let them pretend.

“Lead the way,” Feral says.

---

Feral hates to admit it, but he had low expectations for the Troopers. They’re all skilled soldiers, but, well… They’re human. Fighters, not hunters. So far, nothing about the army has been subtle.

They’d surprised him.

Even in full armor, they move quietly and take advantage of the shadows. It’s nothing like being with other Nightbrothers, but Feral enjoys hunting with other people again.

The droid factory lies in the center of the city, where the Separatist brought it down from orbit. It’s an ugly thing that towers over the nearby buildings, all harsh edges and metallic sheen.

They stop behind a partially collapsed building, and Wooley turns to them. “Waxer, Boil, Feral is with you. Go cause some chaos,” Wooley says.

They nod, and Feral is pulled along as the two Troopers split off. As they move, Waxer catches him up on the plan.

“Wooley and the others will head to the main entrance and draw their attention. Our job is to get inside and cause as much trouble as possible. Bonus points if we bring the building down altogether.”

Waxer hands him a heavy sack. Inside are small metal balls. Explosives, waiting to be armed. Feral gingerly closes the sack, and Boil laughs. He blithely fishes an explosive out of his own pocket and holds it towards Feral.

“Just flip this switch here, stick it somewhere good, and make a run for it. One of these should take out a good several feet of metal. More if you stick it near a fuel source; those light up beautifully. And if you pull the switch out completely, you only have a couple seconds to book it.”

Simple enough. Feral takes a deep breath and adjusts his grip on the bag. He’s never dealt with explosives before, but it seems straightforward.

“Let’s go,” Feral says, and they keep moving.

With all the buildings and rubble, creeping up to the factory is simple enough. The walls are smooth metal, and there’s only a handful of entrances, all of them guarded. They sneak as close as they dare to a smaller entrance. Then, they wait.

A few minutes later, there’s a muffled explosion and a burst of activity towards the main entrance.

Reaching into the Force, Feral grabs a droids guarding the door and flings him into the others. Before they hit the ground, a handful of blaster bolts take them out. Then Boil and Waxer are moving, and Feral follows them into the building.

Boil guides them down narrow hallways and up towards the center of the factory. The occasional patrol passes by, but they’re easy enough to avoid. Judging by the continued commotion at the main entrance, he thinks the Separatists have bigger problems to worry about. When they’re several floors up, the hallway opens over a large dome filled with metal and machinery unlike anything Feral has seen before.

Feral freezes when he gets his first glimpse down into the production floors. There’s more droids than he can count. Rows upon rows of metal standing at attention. Most are inactive, but several groups are already smoothly powering up and marching away.

“Something wrong?” Waxer asks.

Feral shakes his head. “Dathomir doesn’t have much technology. I’d never even seen a droid before coming here,” he says faintly.

Waxer motions them forward, and they falls silent. Feral pushes down his surprise to focus on the mission. There are more droids here than he’d realized were possible. That just means it’s more important than ever to destroy this factory. Preferably before the rest of the droid army is activated.

Waxer leads them carefully towards the largest machine: a behemoth looming above the entire dome. It’s set into the ceiling of the building itself

“That’s the heart of the factory. It powers the ship engines and the machinery for making more droids. The fuel tanks are too high to reach, but if we get enough of the supports, it should all come crashing down.”

Feral can see what he means. The fuel tanks are at the highest point, where only pipes and narrow support beams reach. It’s also completely exposed to the area underneath and all the droids.

The support beams surrounding the machine are less conspicuous, but it’s still visible to nearby patrols. It’ll take a while to skirt around the edges to reach them too. One unlucky moment, and the mission could fail altogether.   

Feral glances back at the main machinery. Unlike the supports, the fuel tank itself would only need a couple charges. Feral is faster than the Troopers, and he has more experience. He eyes the distance carefully. It’ll be a challenge, but he’s managed worse.

“I can reach it,” Feral says. “Can you get me a distraction?”

Waxer and Boil glance at each other before turning to Feral.

“Of course we can. You sure you’re up for it? If those droids notice you…” Waxer starts.

Feral shrugs. “It’ll give us better odds, right? So it’s worth the risk.”

This kind of decision is familiar. Maybe not on this scale, but he’s done it before, both on Dathomir and since the attack. Weighing the different options and figuring out the best path forward.

Boil clasps him on the shoulder. “We’ll buy you some time; don’t do anything stupid while you’re up there,” he says.

Feral nods, and he watches as Boil and Waxer dart back into the hallways. He doesn’t have to wait for long. There’s a loud bang on the floor below, and a platform slides free and crashes down into the production floor. It crushes a couple droids and sends the rest into a flurry of activity.

A moment later, more explosions go off down the hallways, and the droids converge towards the noise. It’s the best chance Feral is likely to get.

With the Force, it’s an easy jump up onto the support beams. Feral squats there, mapping out the best path. Then, he sprints forward.

The beams are sturdy underfoot, and Feral moves swiftly. He doesn’t make a sound, but there’s no shadows to hide behind. No point in being careful; speed is his best ally. He reaches the closest fuel tank without a problem and pulls out the first explosive. He flips the switch, sticks it to the metal, and moves onto the next spot.

He makes it halfway across the roof before he hears a commotion beneath him.

“Hey, you’re not supposed to be up there!” a tinny voice shouts.

Feral hurriedly activates the explosive in his hand then sprint towards solid ground. He leaps to the next support and lands just as he hears blasterfire.

The Force calls out a warning, and Feral ducks beneath a couple blaster bolts. More follow, and Feral weaves his way towards solid ground. He has a handful of explosives left, and he scatters them across the pipes as he goes.

A line of droids is waiting for him, and Feral takes a running leap over their heads. He uses the Force to deflect the ensuing blaster bolts and keeps moving. 

Waxer and Boil are on the opposite side of the production area, and Feral doesn’t sense any distress from them. They’ll have to make their own way out. Meanwhile, Feral has an increasing number of droids to deal with.

Blasterfire is simple enough to avoid, but there’s a lot of it. A lot of droids too. That’ll be a problem sooner rather than later, considering the sheer number of droids he’d seen earlier.

He has one last explosive in his hand. He pulls the switch out and tosses it blindly behind him. A few moments later, Feral stumbles as a blast of superheated air rams into him. Laughing, Feral rides the wave forward. He keeps his feet underneath him and takes a sharp turn into a stairwell.

Feral has no map and very little idea of where each hallway leads. He heads down and East as best he can, taking stairwells and only occasionally backtracking. The main entrance is somewhere in that direction, and it seems like his best bet to escape.

If he reaches out, he can feel Force presences in front of him. Wooley and the others. Feral angles towards them and hopes for the best.

As he gets closer, he hears the occasional explosion or sound of combat. He starts running into droids facing the other way too. Focusing on the intruders trying to get in, not Feral as he sprints out. It makes them easier to avoid or toss around.

Finally, he turns a corner and sees familiar armor. There’s a handful of droids in the way, but they hadn’t even noticed Feral yet. He Force shoves the droids aside without slowing and skids to a stop in front of the Troopers.

“Charges are set. We should leave,” Feral says, out of breath and almost vibrating from adrenaline. He’s not sure how much time they have until the charges blow, but it can’t be much.

Wooley nods, and they turn back the way they came. They make good speed. The Trooper’s blasters keep the droids at a distance, and Feral can disrupt any larger groups with a simple Force push.

“Waxer and Boil?” Wooley asks as they run.

“They’re fine, last I saw. We were separated getting out.”

If he reaches, he can feel their Force presences somewhere on the other side of the factory. It’s too far to make out details, but he’s hopeful they’re doing well.

They’re back at the main entrance when the first explosion goes off behind them. It starts off as a quiet pop that quickly grows to a roar behind them. Intense heat chases them away, but they reach the city streets before the building starts crumbling behind them.

Feral sneaks a glance back. Half the factory roof is completely gone, and several fires are burning merrily. As he watches, one of the outer walls collapses inward.

There’s plenty of droids swarming around the remaining building, but it’s a small number compared to what he’d seen on the production floor.

“Kriff, that was a  big one. Nice job!” Trapper says beside him.

Feral nods, momentarily speechless. They caused that. The explosion and collapse. The droids now milling aimlessly around their ruined base instead of organizing their attack.

It feels good.

Feral knows he’s been useful during the Separatist attack. He’s proved it with each person he guided to safety and every destroyed droid. By guiding the Republic here and giving them an advantage.

It hadn’t felt like much, though. Not in the face of the Separatist invasion and his burnt home. Taking out the factory is bigger. It’ll make them hurt, and it’s the first step in driving the Separatists away. Winning, not just surviving.

“Any news from the Generals?” Feral asks.

Wooley shakes his head. “There’s another group after the city’s communication hub, and General Kenobi is working to break their defenses at the wall. Knowing General Skywalker, he’ll probably show up in the nick of time, and we’ll be hearing about their great rescue for weeks.”

Amusement sparks across the group, and the others start making predictions and bets. They keep walking as they talk, and Feral soon senses Waxer and Boil getting closer.

They turn a corner and come into view. Waxer sees them first. His helmet hides his expression, but Feral can feel his delight as he rushes towards them.

“There you are, you reckless dinii! I can’t believe you got past all those droids,” Waxer says, thumping him on the back.

“It worked,” Feral says, grinning back.

He’s still thrumming with adrenaline, though it’s faded to a gentler hum. He wants to run and fight and hunt, and he’s glad there’s plenty of droids left to tear apart.

Wooley aims them towards where Kenobi and the brunt of their forces are supposedly attacking the wall. Feral resists the urge to run ahead, and this time he’s excited about the upcoming fight.

---

The next hours are a slog of fighting. Orders and fights and the slow reclamation of the city, street by street. Feral doesn’t know the Troopers’ strategies, but he flits around the squads and does what he can. Partway through, a cheer goes up as their comm systems reconnect. They’d retaken the communication hub.

By nightfall, they’d reclaimed the Northern wall and almost a third of the city. Kenobi calls a halt to the fighting, and the Troopers set themselves to securing their new territory instead. The first watch is quickly established, and everyone else sets up camp. The Troopers tiredly joke around as they work. Feral helps Waxer and Boil with their part before leaving.

"I'll meet up with you tomorrow, alright? I’m gonna find Fives and Echo," Feral says.

Boil snorts, and Waxer's grin is decidedly playful. "Fives and Echo, huh? Better keep it down; the rest of us will be trying to sleep."

Feral grins and lightly punches him in the shoulder, just hard enough to sting. "I think we’ll manage," he says.

Fives and Echo are easy enough to find. Their Force signatures are familiar enough to stick out in the crowd. He follows them to a cluster of Troopers making use of a public fountain. Fives and Echo already have their armor off and are cleaning the dirt and sweat off their skin. Feral quiets his steps and sneaks up behind them. Several Troopers notice him, but they snicker at each other and don't warn Fives or Echo.

As he watches, Fives' presence sparks with mischief, and he waits until Echo is leaning forward to shove Echo's head under the water. Echo comes up spluttering and wiping water out of his eyes, and that's when Feral strikes.

He shoves Fives into the fountain, and Fives is too busy laughing at Echo to catch himself. He yelps as he hits the water, and he comes up cursing. Fives stops mid-insult as he recognizes Feral, and he stands there, dripping wet.

“You looked like you needed a wash,” Feral says.

Fives and Echo exchange a glance, and then they both charge towards Feral. Feral dodges Fives' arm, but he's laughing too hard to avoid Echo as he sweeps Feral's legs out from under him.  Instead of catching himself, Feral grabs Echo's shoulder and pulls him down too. They hit the water hard, and Echo wiggles free from Feral’s hold.

The fountain is barely waist high, but Feral stays at the bottom a few extra moments. He can see Fives waiting for him above. So, instead of surfacing, Feral hooks his foot around Fives' ankle and yanks him down with them. Fives falls with a shout, and there’s several moments of tangled legs and attempted grapples.

Then Echo sneaks up behind him and plasters himself against Feral's back. Feral braces himself for another round, but Echo just hangs there, feeling very smug.

"Good to see you too," Echo says. "I wasn't sure where you'd end up once everything started going down."

"I found Wooley's squad after I got back. It worked out well."

Feral carefully stands, and Echo shifts his grip so he's pressed against Feral's side instead. They sit on the edge of the fountain, letting their legs dangle in the water. Fives joins them a moment later.

They're all soaked from their tumble in the fountain, but it'd wiped off the worst of the dirt on their skin. His wet clothes quickly start sticking in uncomfortable places, and Feral shrugs his shirt off. It could use a rinse as well, and Feral doesn't have a clean set to change into.

The way Fives and Echo eye his bare skin is a bonus. Especially when Echo leans close and lets his hand drift lower on Feral’s back.

“So, earlier, Fives was talking about making something up to me?”

Feral wrings out his shirt one more time and deems it clean enough. He sets it down to dry and pulls Echo into a deep kiss.

“We’ll need to find somewhere private first,” Feral says when he pulls away. Thankfully, they have many options to choose from.

---

Despite their enthusiasm, all three of them are tired from the fighting. Their touches are languid, and Feral enjoys this gentleness as much as the passion from earlier.

After, he collapses half on top of Echo, close enough to feel the rapid pulse of his heart as it settles out. Fives is close enough to touch, so Feral reaches out and tangles their fingers together. 

He opens his eyes as Fives pulls away, but Fives doesn’t go far. He rifles through his pack. Fives hadn’t bothered putting on pants, so Feral enjoys the view as Fives makes a victorious sound and leans back with something metal in his hand.

“Here,” Fives said, and he shoves a datacard into Feral’s hand.

“It’s our comlink codes. For after you leave.”

Feral’s grip tightens around the datacard, and he swallows hard. “Fives, I can’t-” he whispers, but Fives cuts him off.

“Yeah, I remember ‘bout you leaving with your brother. I’m not arguing with that. There’ll be time after though, right? We can stay in contact. We get leave sometimes too, and maybe we’d find a chance to meet up again.”

Feral can’t meet their eyes. He has a death grip on the datacard, and he carefully loosens his fingers so he won’t break it. His chest aches, and more than anything, he wants that promise of some future. An opportunity to have something for himself.

He knows he can’t. He already stole his brother back from the Sith. He can’t have both Savage and contact with the Republic, and he’d chose his brother over anything, everything else.

“I wish I could,” Feral whispers, as if it’s a secret. “Whatever happens, just… We really did come here to escape the war. I haven’t lied to you.”

He keeps his eyes down, but he can feel the two looking at him. Thinking.

“Is this about that secret you have?” Echo asks.

Unable to speak, Feral just nods. Fives shifts, and Feral feels him press up against his back: a comforting line of warmth against his skin. He has Echo beneath him and Fives at his back, and together it’s almost overwhelming.

“Are you in danger? Whatever it is, I bet we could help. Kriff, after everything you’ve done, the Generals would pull some strings in repayment.”

Feral almost laughs. He wishes it could be that easy. If anything, the Jedi are the biggest danger to him and Savage.

“No, I’m in no more danger than anyone with the war. Less than you two, since you’ll be heading to more worlds and battlefields.”

And Feral won’t be there to help next time. They could die, and Feral would have no way of knowing. It’d been a painful thought before, but now it’s almost unbearable.

“After the war,” Feral says before he can second guess himself. “If we all survive, then… I’d like to talk again. Without secrets.”

Maybe then they won’t be so closely tied to the Jedi and Republic. There will be more options and ways to hide if it goes wrong.

“I’ll take it,” Fives says immediately.

Feral laughs, and the sound is thick with emotion. “Sorry. I know I’m making this hard for you.”

Fives grip tightens around him, and he presses a kiss against the back of Feral’s neck. “Hey, don’t worry about it. I mean, I’m absolutely dying of curiosity, but I know you have a good reason.”

Feral can’t quite manage a response. He nods and curls tighter against Echo. They let the conversation lapse, and Feral focuses on calming down again. They won’t have much time left together, and he’s determined to enjoy it as much as he can. Which means not dwelling on the future and things he can’t change.

It’s too early to sleep, and eventually Fives stirs and draws his attention. “So, we’ve told you about the General and ourselves. It’s your turn; tell us something good about Dathomir or here or wherever else you’ve been.”

Feral almost manages a smile. He takes a deep breath and pushes through the ache of knowing he’ll have to leave them behind.

“My little brother and I were the last of our clan, so we’d always been close. He was a little hellion as a kid though. Cheerful, but that just meant he was smiling as he tackled you to the ground.”

Feral has many, many stories about Savage as a child, and they still make him smile. Savage had grown more serious and protective as he got older, especially after Feral was old enough for the Choosing. He’d kept that spark of mischief though. Then Ventress came and carved her bloody path through them.

Fives and Echo asked for a good story, though. Something from their childhood, when everything was simpler and the Nightsisters still a distant threat. And… even if they don’t know he’s talking about Savage, he wants them to know these stories about his brother. Not just the war and fights.

He pushes the darker thoughts away and focuses on enjoying Fives and Echo’s company. He’ll only have these moments, so he has to make them count.

Chapter 14: The Nightbrothers

Feral wakes choking back a screaming.

Poisonous green light flashes behind his eyes, and he can’t breathe. There’s hands holding him down and pressure around his neck, and he panics.

 He tries to jerk away, but something stops him. A strangled, terrified noise is ripped from his throat, and he barely stops himself from lashing out. You can’t attack the Sisters. Better to die than face their vengeance, but he can’t do this again. He can’t, and-

Something touches his cheek, warm and gentle, and Feral opens his eyes. The arm in front of him is a warm brown. Not the Nightsisters’ bleached white. Human? But-

Realization hits him. Fives and Echo. The war and his escape. He’s on Valdoria, not Dathomir, and the Nightsisters are far behind him.

“Feral? You with us?” Fives says.

For a moment, Feral can’t answer. Terror tastes bitter on his tongue, and it’s slow to fade. It feels like something is stuck in his throat. The echo of that moment, when he’d felt his neck snap.

It hadn’t hurt. At least, the sensation hadn’t been like any pain he’d felt before. An electric burning, bright and all-consuming. The realization he was on the floor, unable to move or breathe or feel anything past that burning pressure. Darkness, and waking up surrounded by the Sisters.

Feral’s breath catches, and he realizes his face is wet with tears. He scrubs at his face and nods. Something touches his shoulder, and he jumps before realizing it’s only Echo. Echo guides him back down, and Feral curls gratefully against them. Their skin is warm against his, and they feel like a barrier between him and the rest of the world.

Another hand is on his horns, stroking gently, and Feral leans desperately into it. It’s been months since anyone comforted him after a nightmare. First when he was alone in the village, and then because Savage was too afraid to come near him.

“I almost died,” he whispers. “The Sisters-”

There’s more words on his tongue, but Feral swallows them down. He can’t mention Savage. Can’t even hint at him or the Sith. Better not to say anything at all.

---

The sun is barely starting to rise when the rest of the camp stirs. Feral hadn’t managed any more sleep, but the time pressed between Fives and Echo is its own comfort. He spends those hours steadying his emotions and rebuilding his mental walls until he feels within reach of normal. Brittle, maybe, but functional.

Fives is asleep, but he can feel Echo’s mind awake and clear. He’s pressed against Feral’s back, and his arm is a warm weight across his chest. Feral gently folds their fingers together.

“We should get moving,” Feral murmurs.

Echo presses a kiss to the back of his neck. He pulls away slowly and nudges at Fives shoulder until he jerks awake and squints up at them.

“Kriff, morning already?” he grumbles. He glances at Feral, and his face pinches with concern.

Feral wishes he could say he didn’t need it. He’s been dealing with the memories and nightmares for months now, and it’s getting better. Last night was a bad one though.

“You wanna talk about it?” Echo asks.

Feral chokes on a laugh. “Not really,” he says.

Not when he’d have to dissect every word and hide everything important. The lies would be worse than useless.

Fives and Echo stay glued to his side as they break down camp and grab something to eat. The ration bar is thick and tasteless in Feral’s mouth, and he can’t tell if it’s from the bar’s quality or Feral’s lack of appetite.

The Troopers are as efficient as always. It feels like he blinks, and then it’s time to move out. Fives offers him a hand, and Feral takes it and stands. He reluctantly releases Fives’ palm after.

“I should find the Commanders and figure out where to go. What are your orders?” Feral asks.

“We’re patrolling along the Northern wall today,” Echo says.

Feral nods. The Northern sectors had already been cleared out, and they had no reason to expect more droids or a surprise attack. Feral doubted he’d be assigned anywhere near them. Not when there were actual fights he could help with.

“Be careful,” he tells Fives and Echo, and he tries to smile. It’s strained around the edges but genuine. Echo returns it with a brighter grin.

“It’s a quiet sector; we’re expecting a boring day,” Echo says.

Feral pulls him down into a gentle kiss. Something soft and lingering. When he pulls away, Fives is waiting. Fives deepens his kiss, and Feral’s smile comes easier when it ends. 

“Be careful anyway,” Feral says.

Taking a deep breath, Feral walks towards the other group. He pushes any lingering emotions from last night away. They’re still at war, and he can’t afford any distractions.

---

There’s no big objective that morning. No more factories or Separatist bases. Just a slow slog of reclaiming the city from the droids still scattered across it.

The morning passes in a blur of alleyways and blasterfire. They find several clusters of droids, but they haven’t coordinated any counterattacks yet. They’re easy enough targets, and they make good progress through the city.

The sun is high in the sky when Feral notices a building unlike the others around it. The natives favor short, elaborate structures, but this one stretches tall and straight. It doesn’t look foreign like the Separatist factory, but it’s odd enough that Feral slows to stare.

Jesse notices him looking. “That’s the communication hub,” he says. “It’s low-tech, but apparently that works better with the planet’s weather.”

The communication hub. Feral remembers hearing about them retaking it, but he hadn’t given it much thought since. Now, staring up at it, the building is impossible to ignore.

“It’s impressive,” Feral says. He’s proud of how steady he keeps his voice.

Jesse laughs and thumps him on the shoulder. “You should see some of the stuff on Coruscant. It’s miles above anything you’ll find ‘round here.”

Feral offers him a smile, and they keep moving. He has no plans of visiting Coruscant, now or ever, and he doesn’t need fancy technology. Just enough to get a message off-planet. Or… maybe just across the planet, now. It’s been more than a tenday since the Separatists attacked. Surely Savage is nearby.

Feral steals another glance back. They’re at a lull in the fighting; it wouldn’t hurt anyone if he left for a few moments. Besides, he’s been slipping in and out of different squads all morning. Leaving now shouldn’t make a difference.

Feral slows, earning himself a curious look from Jesse.

“I think I sensed something. I’ll find you again later,” Feral says.

Nobody protests as he slips away. They trust him, and the thought aches. He tells himself this isn’t actually a betrayal, but it doesn’t help.

This far within the Republic territory, there are few guards on patrol. They’re easy enough for Feral to avoid. He slips past an unlocked window and emerges into a dark, empty room.

It would’ve been a comfortable meeting space before the Separatists attacked. Now, the furniture is strewn about, and dismembered droid parts lie abandoned on the ground. Feral senses a few people on the upper floors: Troopers, likely guarding the security systems and secure access points.

Luckily, Feral doesn’t need anything so fancy. A public terminal will work just fine, and they’re scattered throughout the building. Most are broken or offline, but it doesn’t take long for Feral to find one that flickers on at his touch.

He keeps his message simple: a single line of text.

Safe. With allies. The coordinates to the Capital.

He types in Savage’s comm code but hesitates before sending it. There’s no going back from this. His brother will come immediately, and Feral will leave with him. He might never see anyone here again.

Part of him wants to put it off. To give himself a few extra days with Fives and Echo. Except, Savage must be half out of his mind with worry, and Feral can’t leave his brother in pain. Not when he can do something to stop it.

So he sends the message. Then he turns off the terminal and walks away.

Jesse and the others are easy enough to find. He doesn’t feel any distress, but there’s a tense focus that makes Feral think they’ve found droids. As he gets closer, he hears blasterfire.

Feral follows the sound of fighting, and he rejoins the battle

---

They manage a midday meal between excursions. Feral isn’t in the mood for conversation, so he finds a spot and leans against a wall, tilting his head back to enjoy the sunlight.

He opens his eyes when he feels Jesse approaching. Jesse joins him against the building, grunting as he takes a seat. He doesn’t say anything at first, and Feral shifts under his attention.

“Is something wrong?” Feral asks.

“You tell me,” Jesse says. “You were gone for a while this morning. I checked with the nearby squads, but nobody reported seeing you then. What happened?”

His tone is light and curious, but there’s a hard glint of suspicion in his eyes. Feral starts running through possible excuses. There’s plenty of reasonable ones to choose from. A civilian, maybe. Or a bad feeling that came to nothing. Except, the thought of lying leaves an unpleasant taste in his mouth.

“Personal business,” Feral says instead.

Jesse raises an eyebrow. “Personal business? In a city you’ve barely visited, that required you to sneak out?”

Feral flinches. “I sent a message, that’s all. So my brother would know I’m alright.”

Jesse’s face softens. “Or’dinii, you didn’t need to sneak off for that. We’d have helped you and your brother.”

Feral wishes that were true. He really does. These are good men, and he hates having to lie and tell half-truths like this. 

“I don’t want the Republic to have our comm code. My brother and I were staying away from the war for a reason.”

It’s not quite a lie. Just leaves out all the important parts.

Jesse sighs, and Feral jumps when he feels a hand on his shoulder.

“Hey, you gotta know we wouldn’t do something to hurt you. We’re the good guys, remember? Your help saved a lot of lives. The Vod’e will remember that.”

Uncharitably, Feral wonders how far that promise will go once they realize the truth. Not that he blames them, especially when he thinks of all the people Savage killed before they got out.

Taking a deep breath, Feral quiets those thoughts. For now, these are friends. The Troopers haven’t given him any reason to doubt them, and Feral will deal with any changes as they come.

“I trust you. Just… you’re military. You have rules and responsibilities and the Senate looking over your shoulders. If something happens, I don’t want to make you choose between me and your duty.”

Especially since he knows what would come out on top, and it isn’t him. Jesse sighs, and he looks sad when he stands and reaches down to help Feral up.

“Duty or not, there’s plenty of guys here who owe you. If you ever need help, you just have to ask.”

Feral takes his hand, and he wishes it could be that simple.

---

Fives and Echo are waiting by the time Feral returns to camp that evening. He’s half tempted to pull them somewhere private for a bit, but… just now, he prefers the company. The Troopers gather in groups for games and competitions. Feral follows Fives and Echo into the group, searching for a spot to sit.

He doesn’t expect Hardcase to half tackle him as he’s walking past. Feral stumbles and barely keeps his footing, and Hardcase stays glued to his back.

“Dibs!” Hardcase shouts.

He’s practically vibrating with excitement, and he flashes a triumphant grin at a group of Troopers behind him before turning back to Feral.

“We’re getting a game of murderball started. You should be my partner!” Hardcase says.

Feral looks at him then over to the group of Troopers. Several of them are holding balls, and he recognizes Waxer and Boil among them. As he watches, one Trooper tackles another and starts vigorously grinding his face in some mud.

“I don’t know how to play,” Feral says.

Still grinning, Hardcase releases his grip and hooks his arm around Feral’s shoulder instead. He steers Feral towards the group, and, hiding a grin, Feral follows.

“Don’t worry, the rules are easy! Fives and Echo, you should play too. I bet we’d wipe the floor with you.”

He shoots them a cheeky grin, and Feral is unsurprised to find the two Troopers following close behind. Fives has somehow acquired a ball, and he seems frighteningly enthusiastic about playing. Feral hides a smile and goes along with Hardcase’s plan. Besides, he’s getting curious about the game.

---

Feral is laughing by the time he begs out of the competition. He’s still not quite sure about the rules, seeing as they seem to change depending on who’s playing. He’d swapped out partners and won a few bouts. He’d also learned some new curse words and very creative insults.

It’s a better evening than Feral had hoped for. Good company and good memories, and Feral holds it close. These are the things he wants to remember after he leaves.

There’s a fountain nearby, and Feral heads towards it to wash up. His path takes him away from the ongoing games and excitement, towards the quieter groups of men.

Up ahead, he notices Skywalker, talking with Rex and a few other Troopers. Feral hesitates before pressing on. Skywalker’s Force presence is intimidating, but he’s only a man. Feral can handle walking near him.

As he nears, Feral catches something about plots and Dooku. His steps slow. He’s heard about the other Sith. Savage rarely spoke of the time before finding Maul, but Feral knows it was bad.

It sounds like they’re speculating about the Sith. Dooku has been causing trouble in a new sector, and they haven’t figured out his plot. He’s almost passed  when he hears them mention the massacre on Raydonia.

Raydonia. The planet where Maul and Savage had first confronted Kenobi. They’re talking about his brothers.

Feral breathes carefully and decides to leave. There’s no point in listening to this. Already, his good mood from earlier is slipping away, and he doesn’t want to hear this. His brothers were their enemies. Feral won’t fault them for hating them, but he doesn’t want to hear it.

“-bad enough Maul is back, and who knows what that monster of his has been-”

Feral’s control snaps. He turns back.

“Don’t,” Feral says. He’s not a man who gets angry easily but, for a moment, Feral can’t breathe for the fury inside him.

Skywalker turns to look at him, confused. “Excuse me?”

“Don’t call him a monster. He’s still a person.”

They can hate Savage as much as they want for his part in the war, but he won’t let them degrade him like that. Not when his brother had his mind stolen from him, and he’s been fighting his way back ever since.

General Skywalker crosses his arms and glares back at him, unimpressed.

“Of course you’re defending him,” he says. “Look, I get you’ve got village loyalty or whatever going on, but he’s a Sith. Nobody who choose that life deserves any sympathy.”

Feral focuses on keeping his breathing steady and reminds himself that these humans know nothing of Dathomir.

“None of us ever have a choice when the Nightsisters come.”

Skywalker snorts dismissively.

“What, you think that guy couldn’t have fought back? I’ve fought against him. Force, I saw him fight against Ventress. Guys like that do whatever they want, no matter who they hurt.”

For a moment, Feral considers biting his tongue and walking away. This is one of his last nights here, and Feral wants to spend it with Fives and Echo. Not fighting a battle he can’t win.

Yet, he can’t walk away from this. It’s his Clan, his village, his history. These strangers know nothing about Dathomir, and they think they can judge them? Condemn his brother?

No.

“Do you want to hear a story about Dathomir? It’s not a very nice one,” Feral says quietly.

The Troopers stir, uneasy at his tone, but nobody speaks. He can feel Kenobi taking notice too; his attention a sharp focus in the Force. Even Skywalker is frowning, hesitating.

Good.

“Brother Viscus is the oldest Nightbrother in the village and has been so for almost twenty years now,” Feral starts, and it’s easy to fall into the rhythm. He’s no great storyteller, but he’s heard this one often enough. It’s important.

“The Nightsisters come to the village whenever it pleases them, and they take whoever they want. Brother Viscus was unlucky. He’d attracted the attention of a cruel sister. She didn’t kill him, but she came back. Over and over.”

No Brother will ask another what happened when he was taken, but you can’t hide the injuries and lingering terror. Even the indifferent Sisters are bad when they keep coming back. There’s no warning. No way to resist or fight back. Once, that had been his greatest fear for his little brother.

“Brother Viscus was strong and proud and everything a Nightbrother could be. He endured as long as he could. Then, one day, his strength broke. He fought back, and he was the first Brother to ever kill a Nightsister. So the Nightsisters decided to make sure we would never resist again.”

Feral takes a moment to breathe. The next part is harder. This is the first time he’s shared it with an outsider. Someone who didn’t already have the story carved into their bones. When he continues, his voice is barely louder than a whisper.

“The Sisters brought Brother Viscus back and made him watch as they started slaughtering our village. They killed all the Elders. All of Viscus’s generation. Everyone old enough they weren’t useful to the Nightsisters anymore. They left Brother Viscus there, alive and unharmed, as his punishment.”

Feral had been very young during the killings and Savage still an infant. He only remembers the smell of blood. Being coaxed out of their hiding place after someone heard Savage crying.

The story isn’t over yet, and he has a reason for telling it. A plea for them to understand what it means to be a Nightbrother. He finishes it, and his voice is so soft and rough he barely recognizes it.

“Ventress was different than anyone who’d come before, but she was still a Nightsister. She killed the ones she didn’t want and took Savage as hers. He was the strongest Nightbrother we had, but he didn’t have any choice against them. Savage had always been loyal to his Clan and Village above all else.”

Feral can’t continue. Belatedly, he realizes he’s shaking. He’s heartsick and hurting, and he’s made his point.

“Excuse me,” he says, and he walks away.

There’s a spot outside the firelight where the ground falls away in a small outcropping. Feral sits there, staring out over the city as his legs dangle. Distantly, he feels Echo and Fives approach.

They stop behind him. Hesitate. Feral doesn’t move. It feels like there’s a hole in his chest, and he can’t tell whether he craves company or can’t stand the thought of it. Words build up in his throat, but they’re all the wrong ones. About being too weak to help his brother. How there’d been no recognition in Savage’s eyes after the Sisters’ ritual, and sometimes Feral sees him and is still afraid.  

“It could’ve been me,” Feral says instead, and it’s close enough to what he really wants to say. It’s trues, and it’s something he will never say to Savage.

“Ventress picked people based on Force Sensitivity. There were the four Brothers she killed. Savage. And me. By the end, there were just the two of us left. If I’d been stronger or Savage hadn’t impressed her, she could’ve taken me instead.”

Should’ve been him, he thinks sometimes. For all that Savage insists on being his protector, he’s still Feral’s younger brother. If Feral had been stronger, maybe things could’ve been better. Maybe he could’ve, at least, spared Savage some pain.

Fives finally dares to sit down next to him. He puts his arm around Feral’s shoulders and, when he doesn’t protest, tightens his grip protectively.

“You aren’t anything like him,” Fives says fiercely, and Feral chokes on a laugh.

“I doubt I’d have had a choice.”

He’s always been softer than Savage. Weaker. He can’t imagine killing anyone, but the Sisters had forced Savage to attack him. He imagines they can make anyone do just about anything.

Chapter 15: Breaking Point

The Capital is home to its own temples, taller and more elaborate than the ones in Feral’s city. They’re still the best vantage points, and his perch lets Feral see most of the Capital stretched out in front of him. The city is scarred from fire and explosions, and collapsed rubble sits heavily along the streets.

For now, the fires are out and the fighting on hold. Dawn has recently arrived, and the city is quiet in the dim light. Feral scans the streets, looking for movement. It takes a few minutes before he finds anything. 

Droids. A mass of them cluster towards the Western edge. Feral keeps watching, trying to pick out where and how many. When he’s done, he swings down.

Below him, Fives and Echo wait. They’re in full armor with their helmets in hand. Fives squints up at the tower, watching a spot slightly above where Feral actually is.

Feral drops and lands lightly beside them. Fives jumps and jerks around. His hand is half raised, and he awkwardly leans it against the wall. He definitely wasn’t startled, nope. Fives is the picture of poise and self-control, and Feral graciously doesn’t comment on it.

“Any luck?” Fives asks.

Feral nods and sketches out what he saw. They hadn’t passed a single droid all day. Now, he thinks they’ve found where the last of them are hiding. It looks to be a rather unimpressive last stand.

Beside him, Echo smiles at him. “This should be the last big push. Then only the cleanup will be left. It’ll be a nice break.”

Feral can almost picture it. Having time to spend with Fives and Echo with few responsibilities to drag them away. Helping the city rebuild instead of hunting down droids. It’s a good image.

Stepping closer, Feral kisses him, slow and sweet, before turning to Fives and doing the same. He pulls back slowly and stays there, close enough to feel the warmth from their skin.

For the dozenth time, Fives tries to memorize their Force signatures. Fives reminds him of the warm streams he’d played in near the village, whose currents could knock you off your feet. Echo is calmer but no less mischievous, and Feral could spend hours listening to them.

“I’m glad I met you,” Feral says.

It’s true. No matter what happens from here, he doesn’t regret this. Not stumbling across the two of them fighting droids and getting drawn into the war. Not this either: the spark of affection and desire that barely had time to grow.

Maybe they can have those extra days together, but… Feral can’t quite believe it. There’s a tension in his stomach: a growing anticipation that he can’t quite ignore.

Echo leans forward, thumping their foreheads together.

“We’re glad we found you too,” Echo says.

Fives puts his hand on Feral’s shoulder directly above one of the love bites he’d made earlier that morning. Feral’s breath catches at the sweet sting.

“We can show you how glad later,” Fives says.

Feral can’t help but smile. He pulls away reluctantly, and together they head back towards the others. Fives radios ahead, and the company is already gathering into their squads and preparing for the attack.

Fives and Echo are quickly swept up, and Feral follows. When they march forward, Feral stays with them instead of running ahead. This time, the Troopers don’t need Feral’s particular brand of help. The remaining droids are already leaderless and confused, and Feral can afford to steal a few more moments at Fives and Echo’s side instead of attacking from the shadows.

They slow as they grow close. The others raise their blasters and fall silent. Someone gives a signal, and they charge forward.

Fighting is different like this. He’s in the middle of a squad instead of alone. It’s bright and loud, almost overwhelming. He freezes the first time a line of droids charge towards them, unsure whether to run forward or hang back.

The droids open fire before he has to choose, and Feral redirects the bolts on instinct. It’s easy, almost automatic, and Feral falls into the rhythm of battle. He doesn’t need to worry about the Troopers. They adjust around him instead, guarding his blind spots and taking advantage of the openings he creates.

The battle is as easy as they expected. The droids have little skill and less leadership. They charge forward blindly or stumble into uncoordinated retreats, and the Troopers steadily advance. Yet, Feral’s uneasy feeling only worsens.

Something is going to happen. He’s sure of it. This is the same feeling he had in the tunnels under the Capital or during that last calm morning before the invasion. The same instincts that kept him alive on Dathomir.

He doesn’t have time to stop and figure out what it means. The fight is happening now, and he can’t afford distraction. Surely it can wait another few minutes until this settles.

Yet, even as the droids thin, Feral can’t let it go.

There’s something at the edge of his Force range. Just a tickle, at first, too distant for him to recognize. Something big and bright, fading in and out as it moves. Every time Feral tries to focus, a droid moves or the fighting advances, and his concentration breaks.

Then there’s a break. A breath as the droids stumble away and quiet settles over them. Echo and most of the other Troopers are several steps ahead, encouraging the droids’ retreat with their blasters. At his side, Fives moves to join him, and Feral grabs his arm

“Wait. There’s something…” Feral trails off as he reaches into the Force. He focuses on the whisper at the edge of his range first. It’s getting closer. Clearer. It feels so familiar, and all at once Feral realizes what it is. 

“Oh,” Feral whispers, little more than a whisper of surprise.

Of course he recognizes that Force presence. It’s Savage.

He’s here.

For a moment, Feral is too stunned to think. A blasterbolt skims too close to his arm, burning the skin. Fives grabs his shoulder and yanks him backward.

“Feral, are you alright? What’s wrong?” Fives asks.

“I have to go,” Feral blurts out. He’s so distracted that he’s barely aware he spoke at all.

“Wait, what?”

“I can feel my brother nearby. I’m sorry, I just- I have to go. Now.”

Savage is near the outskirts of the city, and he’s slowly getting closer. Savage’s range was never as big as Feral’s; he hasn’t noticed him yet, but it’s only a matter of time.

Savage’s presence is a whirlwind of emotions. Worry and fury and determination. If Savage reaches them, he won’t stop to talk. He’ll see clones and Jedi and think enemy. There will be a fight and people will die, and Feral can’t let that happen.

This isn’t the goodbye he wanted. Not even close. It’s all he has.

Fives’ hand is tight around Feral’s arm, and his presence is bright with alarm. Feral presses his fingers to the thin fabric covering Fives’ wrist, where the armored plating leave a gap. It’s the closest he can get to skin contact.

“Wait, you’re leaving? Leaving, leaving? Now?” Fives says. His grip tightens around Feral’s arm. “Can’t it wait another night? An hour? Bring your brother back to the camp, and we’ll-”

“I’m sorry,” Feral repeats. Echo is further ahead—too far to touch—but he turns back to look. Feral meets his visor and wishes he could see Echo’s face underneath. Wishes he had the time for a proper goodbye. But Savage is getting closer, and they’re already out of time.

He twists his arm free and starts running. Behind him, Fives shouts after him. Feral doesn’t stop. It’s as easy as always to lose himself in the narrow alleyways.

Leaving them behind hurts, hot and painful in his chest. This is how it was always going to end, he reminds himself. He’s planned for this. Prepared.

That doesn’t make it hurt any less.

He keeps running, and he feels the moment Savage senses him back. Feral stumbles under the weight of his brother’s undivided attention, and even at a distance he can feel Savage’s intense relief.

The Southern part of the city was hit the worst; there’s more collapsed buildings than those still standing, and Feral carefully darts across the debris. He pauses at an open square and scans the area. The square ends in a tangle of intact buildings and dark alleys. His brother feels so close, and-

There.

Savage emerges from the shadows between buildings at a run. He doesn’t hesitate at the uneven ground, and his gaze doesn’t waver from Feral. Despite everything, Feral smiles. He’s never feel right without his brother nearby.

“Savage,” Feral says, and his brother pulls him into a crushing embrace.

Savage loosens his grip almost immediately—ever mindful of his new strength—but he doesn’t let go. He holds Feral just far enough away to scan him for injuries, and his expression tightens at the blaster wound on his arm.

“How badly are you hurt?” he asks.

“I’m fine; it’s just a few scrapes.”

Savage looks skeptical, which is entirely unwarranted. Savage is the one who tries to hide injuries, after all. Feral isn’t nearly that foolish.

“I’m alright, Savage, I promise. ”

There’s metal under his palms instead of rough fabric, and Feral belatedly realizes Savage is back in his armor. Savage must have pulled it out of the ship’s storage, where it’s been hidden since Savage took his hand. The armor was from the Sisters. It was made for war and Darkness, and Feral had hoped never to see it again.

“Brother? You-”

Before Feral can finish, Savage’s head snaps up. He growls, furious, and shoves Feral behind him. At the same time, his lightsaber activates in a familiar red glow.

Confused, Feral looks past Savage, and he sees figures on the other side of the square. It’s too far to make out faces, but the armor is unmistakable. As is the robed figure standing in front.

Kenobi. His lightsaber is in his hand, and it ignites as Feral watches. That must be Cody at his side. And… and Fives and Echo a few steps behind. Watching.

Oh, Feral thinks numbly. They followed me.

Maybe Kenobi had sensed something. Or Fives and Echo contacted him, and they all tracked Feral here. Either way, it brought them here.

He’d told them though. Over and over. He had to leave when his brother arrived. They were supposed to let him go.

Beside him, Savage is still growling. Under Feral’s hand, he feels tense and ready to attack.

Adrenaline washes through Feral, chasing away the surprise. He can’t afford to freeze. Not now. Not with Fives and Echo right there and Kenobi prepared to defend them.

If the Troopers try to fight Savage, his brother will tear through them. If General Kenobi gets involved, Feral doesn’t know who would win.

Neither option is tolerable. He refuses.

He twists around Savage’s protective arm and puts a hand on Savage’s chest, holding him back. He doesn’t fool himself into thinking he can actually stop his brother. He just needs a chance. A reminder.

There’s Darkness pressing against the edges of his brother’s Force presence. The now-familiar rage. Savage doesn’t even glance at him.

“Savage, don’t. They’re not our enemies anymore,” he says urgently. Savage doesn’t respond, and the growl in his chest doesn’t falter.

“Brother, please,” Feral tries softly, and he feels Savage flinch. He finally looks down, and Feral meets his eyes steadily, willing him to listen.

“We don’t have to fight. We can leave. Please.”

Savage hesitates. His fury wavers, and Feral folds his Force presence against his brother’s. He’s here. He’s calm and alright, and they’re free to make their own choices now.

All at once, the Darkness threaded through Savage collapses. Savage curses. In one swift motion, he deactivates his lightsaber, turns, and shoves Feral ahead of him. Feral stumbles but stays on his feet as they start sprinting. Just before they disappear into the alleys, Feral glances back.

They aren’t following, thank the Goddess. Kenobi is watching them with his lightsaber ready and expression unreadable. Behind him, Fives lurches forward a half step before stopping.

Feral turns away, and he tries not to feel ashamed.

---

Savage sets a strict pace, and they run until Feral’s legs burn. They pass through alleys and empty paths, and he’s grateful they don’t run into anyone else. He isn’t sure he could handle another confrontation.

The city flies by in a blur. It feels like he blinks and they’ve reached the outer wall. Savage doesn’t miss a step. As soon as they reach the base, he hooks an arm around Feral’s waist and leaps. He clears the wall in three pushes, and Feral bites back a shout. He could have easily jumped by himself, but he can allow Savage some overprotectiveness. 

When they land, Savage keeps his hand against Feral’s back. The touch is so light it’s barely there, but it stays as they run. Savage only pulls back when he takes a sharp turn off the path, and his ship comes into view.

Savage jumps in before the ramp is halfway down and throws himself at the controls. Feral watches him work for a moment before turning towards the cockpit windows. It’s a blur of green and brown, but within moments the engines activate and they start to rise.

Trees give way to open air, and Feral looks towards the Capital. The temple spires rise above the other buildings, and Feral finds the one he climbed earlier. He watches the corner of the city where he last saw Fives and Echo, and he doesn’t look away as the city grows smaller and eventually disappears. The curve of the planet comes into view. Then they’re far enough out to jump to hyperspace, and everything disappears into the black and white streaks.

Feral’s breath catches, and he turns away. Savage is finishing with the controls, and Feral joins him.

“Thank you for stopping,” he says. Savage pauses.

“You were right,” he says roughly. “I could’ve gotten us both killed.”

He presses the last few buttons and steps away from the controls. Before Feral can blink, Savage is in front of him. He only hesitates a moment before pulling Feral close against him. When Feral doesn’t protest, Savage’s grip tightens into the firm, comforting embrace he remembers.

And-

Savage lets down his shields. With a quiet noise, Feral presses closer.

Once, he and Savage had shared images and emotions as easily as words. Then there’d been the Sisters and the ritual, and Savage kept himself separate with thick walls around his Force presence. It’s been months since Feral felt more than his surface emotions. Now, he’s finally letting Feral in again.

Savage’s presence is different than before. There’s bone deep pain carved into the bedrock of his mind and sharp edges of rage and fear. It’s still his brother, though. That same, fierce love and protection that has followed him almost his entire life.

“I’m sorry it took me so long. I won’t leave again. Not until the war is over,” Savage says.

 Feral can feel the rumble of his voice through his chest. It takes a moment for the words to register, and Feral huffs and wishes Savage was small enough to shake him by the horns.

“You don’t have to worry. I’m not as strong as you, but I can take care of myself.”

Savage pulls back. Not much; just enough to look Feral in the eye.

“You were working with the Republic. The Jedi.”

He says the word with such venom that Feral is briefly taken aback. Savage doesn’t wait for a response.

“Feral, you don’t understand how dangerous they are. They could capture or kill you, and they’re too strong for you. Even Maul couldn’t defeat Kenobi on his own.”

Feral remembers watching Kenobi fight. His lightsaber. Feral had never doubted he’d lose that fight, but that knowledge had turned soft and non-threatening with familiarity.

“They’re good people,” he says, but even to him the words feel weak.

“They’re soldiers, and they have good reason to hate us.”

Feral flinches at the reminder. Echo and Fives had seen him with his brother, and the others must have heard by now. Waxer and Boil and Hardcase. Every Trooper he’s ever shared a smile or meal knows what he’d been hiding. 

“I know,” Feral whispers. “I just- I wish it could be different.”

He feels Savage sigh. He skims his hand across Feral’s horns before pulling away. He reaches into a nearby storage bin and pulls out a medkit. When Savage grabs his arm, Feral belatedly remembers the blaster burn from earlier.

“Are you hurt anywhere else?” Savage asks.

Feral shakes his head, and Savage starts carefully cleaning the burn. The touch hurts, but it’s a clean, honest pain, and it barely bothers him.

As he’s finishing with the bandage, Savage stops. He touches a spot high on Feral’s shoulder. The touch stings, and Feral realizes it’s a bite mark. He remembers getting it; Fives on top of him, biting almost hard enough to draw blood as Echo kissed him. It’d been a sweet pain, and now the memory aches.

“Feral?” Savage asks, quiet. Careful.

Feral pulls away. “It’s not important. They were human; bites don’t have the same meaning.”

Their marks healed quickly. Even this one would be gone in a few days, and then he’d have nothing to remember them by. Their bites didn’t scar, so they weren’t a promise or commitment in the same way as a Zabrak’s mark. It was just… a moment. A memory.

“You were close?”

Feral chokes on a laugh. He’d barely known Fives and Echo a tenday, and he’d been preparing to leave the entire time. He thought he was ready.

He’d been wrong.

“Their names are Fives and Echo,” he says softly, like a confession. “They were bright and kind, and I don’t want them to hate me.”

That moment in the square was probably the last time he’ll see them. They’ll stay in the war. There’s every chance they could die, and Feral will never know.

Feral’s breath catches, and the thought is almost more than he can bear.

If it hadn’t been for Savage, Feral might have stayed with them. He could have followed the army to the next battlefield and helped the Troopers as best he could.

It’s an impossible thought. Feral will never abandon his brother, and it isn’t safe for him or Savage to be anywhere near the Republic.

He’s startled out of his thoughts by Savage’s hand on his arm. Feral turns towards his brother and rests his head against his shoulder. It leaves his cheek against smooth metal, but Savage immediately curves around him, warm and familiar.

For a moment, Feral can’t breathe for how much he’s missed Savage and his particular type of kindness, awkward and gruff but so painfully earnest.

It’s worth it, to have Savage back. It’s worth everything.

Chapter 16: Wandering

A tenday passes quickly. Feral only realizes when he looks back and realizes that he and Savage have been traveling for longer than he’d known Fives and Echo.

It’s a strange thought. A tenday is hardly anything; barely more than a handful of heartbeats. It wasn’t supposed to leave a mark or ache like he’s missing something vital. His bed feels cold, and he keeps waking up with his arm outstretched, reaching for them.

It’ll fade, Feral reminds himself. He’s survived far worse than this. The Nightsisters were worse. Losing Savage. This loss is something he chose, and he doesn’t regret it. Fives and Echo would never have left the war, and Feral would die before abandoning his brother.

That doesn’t stop the nightmares. There’s the normal ones, of course, filled with poisonous green and helplessness. Savage with empty eyes, drowning beneath the Nightsisters’ magic. Now, he also dreams of fire and war. Fives and Echo, turning away from him. Seeing them hurt or dying and being frozen in place, unable to do anything. The Separatists are advancing and the Force screaming danger, but he can’t even open his mouth to shout a warning. He can only watch as they-

He wakes choking on guilt and swallowing back apologies. It takes him several moments to catch his breath.

There’s no chance of falling back asleep, so Feral wraps his blanket around himself and stumbles towards the doorway.

Savage is still awake, and Feral can feel him in the cockpit. He has several starmaps spread around him, but his mind is tired and unfocused. There’s a familiar frustration there too, sour and unpleasant. Feral hesitates in the doorway. He almost turns back to his room, but he stops himself.

This is his brother. He gave up Fives and Echo for this, and he refuses to be afraid anymore.

Savage barely glances over as Feral approaches him. There’s another chair nearby, but Feral walks up to Savage’s seat instead and leans against it. Like this, he’s at the perfect height to rest the side of his head against his brothers’. Savage’s horns are long and sharp now, but it’s easy enough to avoid the rough edges and tangle their horns together like they used to.

Savage freezes. A moment later, hesitantly, he presses back. He doesn’t hook his fingers around Feral’s horns or pull him down into a proper embrace like he once would’ve. He doesn’t pull away, though. That edge of frustration softens too, becoming something hesitant and warm.

“Feral?” Savage asks.

Feral shakes his head. He isn’t ready to talk about Fives and Echo. Not like this, and especially not with Savage. His brother already has enough guilt to drown in; Feral won’t add more to the flood.

Feral isn’t sure how much time passes. Savage doesn’t move or say anything else, and Feral drifts in a tired, thoughtless haze. Eventually, he lifts his head and stares blearily at the maps.

“Where are we going?” Feral asks.

Savage shrugs. “Outer Rim. Away from the fighting.”

Feral waits, but Savage doesn’t elaborate. For a moment, Feral wonders if Savage doesn’t trust him. Maybe he’s gotten caught up in his head again and forgotten to continue speaking. Then it strikes him that Savage probably doesn’t have a planet in mind at all.

Feral snorts and knocks his horns against Savage’s, amused. Of course Savage has no idea where they’re going. He hadn’t cared about Valdoria either; Feral had been the one researching planets and choosing their path. Back then, he’d been too afraid to ask for Savage’s opinion. He’s better than that now.

“Where do you want to go?” Feral asks.

Savage shrugs. Feral gives him a few moments to think before offering his own thoughts.

“I like the idea of a place with water. I miss the swamps on Dathomir. The warmth,” he says.

He’s curious about the difference between a lake and a Dathomirian swamp. It’s as good a reason as any to narrow down their search. A water planet would be different than Valdoria too, with its mountains and tunnels. Right now, a change sounds very good.

Savage doesn’t respond immediately. Feral stays where he is, and he waits.

“Somewhere with other Zabraks,” Savage finally says. “It’s strange being surrounded by humans all the time.”

Feral nods, already thinking through their options. He leans over Savage’s arm to grab a starmap and starts pulling up information. Savage shifts forward to watch him, but he doesn’t say anything.

It’s peaceful work. The time slips past easily as he sorts through systems and planets. Savage is warm against his side, and his mind is steady and familiar. Occasionally, Savage will reject a sector for being too close to a hyperlane or infested with some criminal syndicate. Once, he stops Feral to zoom in on an image of several Zabraks clustered along a busy street. Feral quietly adds the planet to the top of his list.

They’ll be fine, Feral reminds himself. They know how to start over. This isn’t even the worst trouble they’ve survived, and they’re together. It’s enough.

---

Savage keeps the ship well-stocked, but they need to resupply eventually. By then, Feral is thoroughly tired of space and their small ship.

Savage suggests grabbing their supplies and leaving immediately, but it doesn’t take much convincing to linger for a few days. Savage is feeling restless too, and they both miss being on solid ground.

Savage picks the city; a large spaceport on a Neutral planet. He has some contact there, and after one quick comm call he quietly brings the ship down towards the planet.

Feral watches as the planet comes into view. It’s colorful; bright blues and purples with vivid red stretches of earth. Even the cities are made of those same colors. Distant blurs turn into streets and buildings, and soon enough they touch down in a small corner of the spaceport.

When the hatch unseals, the first thing Feral notices is the smell. There’s the normal scent of a spaceport, of course: engine oil, smoke, and too many people packed tightly together. The air has a strange tang to it though, and it itches slightly as he breathes in. Feral tries to ignore it.

Savage marches out like he’s preparing for a battle, and Feral falls into step behind him. Savage isn’t wearing his armor, but he’s still heads and shoulders above almost everyone. The crowd parts around them, and Savage walks straight towards the market.

He’s remarkably efficient. Within an hour, they have food and fuel being sent to the ship, and Savage is turning away from the market to find a room for the night. Feral stops him before they leave the main paths.

“We have a few hours before it gets dark. Do you want explore?”

Savage frowns and clearly wants to say no. There’s too many people and open spaces. It would be safer to hole up in a room or leave the crowds behind. At that point, they might as well head back to the ship and abandon the entire plan.

Feral stares him down until Savage sighs and looks away.

“Be careful, Feral. This isn’t like Valdoria; it’s a dangerous place,” he says.

Once, Feral would’ve brushed off Savage’s concern. Not out of overconfidence or carelessness, but… The dangers on Dathomir weren’t the kinds of things you could defend against. It didn’t matter if you were loud or quiet, brass or cautious. The Nightsisters took what they wanted regardless.

He’d found it easier to smile and reassure Savage. It was better than being afraid without a way to change anything. Now, they’ve both seen the worst of the Sisters, and those old reassurances ring hollow.

And… if anything does happen, he’s allowed to fight back now. That makes all the difference.

“I know, brother. I’ll pay attention,” Feral says, and he smiles.

---

Feral doesn’t have any destination in mind. There’s nothing he particularly wants to buy either. He’s content to wander aimlessly around the market and mingle with the crowd.

It’s enough to give him a headache, especially after being stuck on the ship so long. There’s so many minds and emotions, all shouting for attention. Feral ignores them and sticks close to Savage’s side. Savage’s mind is strong and steady, and it blots out the worst of the chaos.

Everywhere he looks there’s something new to see. New foods and clothing and dozens of other items overflowing from their stalls. More interesting are the people.

Much as he’d loved Valdoria, it’d been a predominantly Human planet, isolated from travelers and the main hyperlanes. This is a well-traveled spaceport, and Feral can’t even name half the species they pass. There’s people with fur and scales, two or four or ten limbs, and every color he can imagine. A flash of metal catches his eyes, and he turns to see two people outfitted in full armor. Mandalorians, he thinks, and he admires the curls of paint decorating their armor.

And… Zabraks.

Not Dathomiri, of course. Iridonian. Different coloring and marks, but Feral recognized himself in them. There’s a half-dozen Zabraks clustered around one stall, and Feral walks closer, curious.

The stall sells clothing and decorations, and at first Feral doesn’t understand how it’s different than any of a dozen other other shops nearby. Then he recognizes the shape of the jewelry and realizes they’re made specifically for Zabrak horns.

Feral reaches out and carefully touches one of the more delicate metal pendents. The metal links curl in a beautiful pattern, and there’s a blue stone on the end that reminds him of the 501st. 

They hadn’t made jewelry like this in the village. There’d never been enough spare metal for anything impractical, so they decorated themselves in wood and stone instead. And the colors. The swamps are home to vivid pigments, and they painted stories on their skin during celebrations.

Smiling, Feral turns away. A few steps later, he realizes Savage isn’t following. He’s still at the stall, staring at the blue pendant.

“How much?” Savage asks.

Feral flushes and hurries back, grabbing Savage’s arm as he pulls out some credits.

Brother, you don’t have to-”

Savage stops him and hands the credits to the shopkeeper. “You like it. We have enough funds to spare.”

A moment later, Feral has the pendant in hand, and he carefully fastens it around his horn. The metal is cool against his head, and the stone brushes his ear as it sways. Savage feels decidedly satisfied as he turns away. Feral hesitates and stares back at the stall.

Savage had never been one for jewelry, but he’d loved the body and horn paints. He’d been good at it, with crisp lines and intricate patterns. He deserves something nice too.

“Do you have any paint?” Feral asks the shopkeeper. A moment later, he’s happily exchanging credits for the small pot. Blue, to match the stone.

When it gets dark, they turn away from the markets and find a small room for the night. It’s somewhat dark and dingy, but Feral is happy with any break from their ship. Savage inspects the room carefully before he dares relax, and Feral motions him over.

“Sit,” Feral says, and Savage obediently folds down on the floor. Feral dips his finger into the pot, and he presses it against the tips of his brothers’ horn.

He keeps it simple. Thick lines across his horns that spiral into shapes on his skin. An accent down his spine, highlighting the edge of his markings.

When he’s done, Savage’s smile is small but genuine as he carefully traces the designs. They’ll last a few more days, and Feral will happily reapply something new once the edges start flaking.

---

He wakes early the next morning and is amused to find Savage fast asleep. His brother had always preferred lazy mornings, but it’s been a while since Feral last saw him indulge. He stares out the window and watches the city while he waits, but he grows tired of the small room while Savage is still sleeping. 

Feral brushes a hand against his brother’s shoulder, and Savage cracks open an eye.

“I’m going to the market. It shouldn’t take more than an hour.”

Savage stirs and starts to rise, and Feral gently pushes him back down. “I’ll be fine, Brother. It’s just a walk.”

Savage lets himself be coaxed down, and his thoughts are already softening towards sleep again as Feral dresses and slips out the door.

It’s early, but the market is already swarming with people. It’s more people than on Valdoria and far more than Dathomir. Feral hesitates at the edge of the market, overwhelmed by the press of minds and emotions.

It was easier yesterday with Savage’s mind to anchor him. There’s just so many of them. So much worry and excitement and boredom, flavored by each individual mind. He can tell the human at a nearby stall is attracted to the Weequay at his side. The laughing woman behind him is hiding mind-numbing boredom aimed at her companion, and a nearby child has something small and alive cupped in their hands.

It’s a million points of light and life, and Feral spends several minutes strengthening his shields against them. He thinks about heading back to the hotel, but…

He can handle this. It’s only a crowd, and he’s been looking forward to revisiting the market.

He takes it slow, sticking to the edges where the crowd is thinner. He keeps his shields high too, though it leaves his thoughts feeling oddly muffled. It makes the walk manageable, though, and that’s what matters.

He buys a bag of meat buns from a stall. It’s enough to share with Savage, and he idly eats one as he walks. They’re not as good as Adha’s, but it’s pleasantly spicy.

He’s distracted, so he doesn’t notice the man until he bangs into Feral’s shoulder. Something sharp pricks his arm, and Feral jerks back. When he touches the spot, his fingers find blood.

He wastes a moment staring at his fingers, confused. Then adrenaline slams into him, and he realizes how much danger he’s in.

So careless, he thinks. Stupid!

Feral stops ignoring his Force sense. He concentrates, bringing the minds around him into crystal clear focus. The crowd is just as loud as before, but the man in front of him stands out like a beacon. He has rudimentary mental shields, and the shape of his mind is disciplined and sharp. Trained.

There’s a second presence behind him, focused and violent. He feels the spark of intent and dodges as the second attacker jumps him from behind. It’s another human; a woman this time. She pivots back, turning her lunge into a continued series of attacks.

Feral fends her off, but he’s off-balance and can’t seem to find his footing. Around him, people are realizing something is wrong and starting to panic. The emotion is jarring and unpleasant, and Feral pushes past it.

Something’s wrong. The woman is good, but she’s not like Savage or the Jedi. Feral should be able to fend her off and make a run for it, but he can’t. His thoughts feel fuzzy, and he knows he’s faster than this. Better than this.

The pinprick. He’s been drugged.

Feral’s head swims. He staggers and narrowly avoids an attempt to grab him. It leaves her a half-step behind him, and Feral latches onto the opening with both hands and runs.

The road around them is crowded with stalls and people, and Feral glances around, looking desperately for an escape route. His eyes catch on a half-empty alley, and Feral darts towards it. The woman tries to stop him, and Feral calls on the Force to throw her aside.

Even that is harder than it should be. His connection to the Force is muddled, but he grits his teeth and pushes through the block. The woman flies backwards. She hits a stall hard, crumbling it under her weight.

Feral senses something flying towards his back and narrowly dodges something small and metal. Looking back, he sees the first man. Too close, too dangerous, and Feral barely spares him a glance as he prepares to leap.

At his feet, something explodes.

The pressure throws him back, and he hits the ground hard. His ears ring, and his legs refuse to move for an agonizingly long moment. His thoughts don’t feel right either, but there’s no time to adjust.

He pushes himself to his knees, but the man is there before he can stand. He’s tackled back to the ground and pinned. Feral jerks up, trying to force him off, but the man grunts and doesn’t loosen his grip.

There’s another pinch at the base of his neck, and Feral gasps. The fuzziness worsens, and his body feels so heavy.

He’s not getting out of this, Feral realizes with a jolt. He can’t move his legs, and he doesn’t think he could stand, let alone run. He’s out of options.

Desperate, Feral closes his eyes and falls into the Force. He pushes past the block and away from his body, and he calls out for his brother.

Savage is outside his normal range, but Feral throws all his strength into reaching him. At first, there’s nothing. Only strangers and empty space, but Feral pushes harder. He has nothing else. No backup plan, no other options. This has to work.

Finally, distantly, he feels something. He latches onto that spark and feels his brother’s familiar Force presence slot into place. Feral throws himself against his brother’s mind, but he’s too exhausted to compose a proper message. He’s terrified and barely holding onto consciousness at all.

Savage reacts instantly, reaching back and pulling at him. It’s enough for Feral to open his eyes one last time. He sees boots approaching. Blinks, and can’t quite force his eyes open again. His hold on Savage slips away, but that’s okay. Savage knows now. He’ll come.

The weight on his back disappears, and he feels himself being pulled roughly off the ground. He tries to stay awake, but it slips away like water through his cupped hands. He feels himself being carried. Catches brief, nonsensical snatches of conversations. Then he fades away entirely.

---

Feral wakes up.

It’s slow, at first. Unpleasant. His head aches, and there’s an unpleasant, metallic taste in his mouth. And… something is wrong. Something vital is missing, but his thoughts are too sluggish to figure out what. He reaches towards the Force for reassurance, but there’s nothing there.

Feral freezes. He reaches out again, throwing more intent behind it, but again he finds only emptiness. He’s alone. For the first time he can remember, he’s trapped inside the walls of his own head with only his own thoughts for company.

He opens his eyes to a dark room. There’s something heavy on his wrist, and it clinks as he moves. Chains. He forces panic down and carefully sits up. That’s when he realizes there’s something around his neck.

The chains on his wrists are long enough for him to reach up and touch. It’s cold and strange, and something makes him want to recoil away from it. Instinctively, he knows this is why he can’t touch the Force. It’s blocking him somehow, and it’s around his neck. He hates anything touching his neck now, can’t stand it, and this- it’s-

Feral loses some time.

When he comes back to himself, he’s still in the dark. The Force-suppressing collar is still wrapped around his neck. The skin around it stings, and he can feel blood on his neck and streaking his fingers.

Feral folds his fingers in his lap and wills himself to remain calm. Panicking doesn’t help. It never helps. He takes smooth, even breaths and waits for something to happen.

An eternity later, he hears a door open. Light appears at the other side of the room, and it lets Feral see the bars between them. The man from before walks into sight, and Feral can’t feel anything from him at all.  Not his emotions or Force presence or anything. It makes the man feel oddly two-dimensional, like he only half exists.

“What do you want?” Feral asks.

He keeps his voice calm. Doesn’t let his fear show or the unsettling effects of the Force Suppression collar.

The man doesn’t answer. He stares at Feral a few moments then tosses a meal pack at his feet and leaves.

Eventually, Feral eats it. He keeps waiting.

Chapter 17: Reunion

Days pass. The collar and chains stay, and Feral doesn’t leave the cell. His captors don’t hurt him, but they don’t speak to him either. They don’t answer any questions, and eventually Feral stops asking.

The isolation aches. It reminds him of those first weeks with the Nightsisters, when he was still recovering from his broken neck. Too weak to be useful. Too male to be of interest to the Sisters. He’d been heartsick and alone until Talzin offered him up to Maul.

This isn’t quite as bad. Savage is out there, looking for him. He’ll come. Feral just has to survive until then.

It’s hard to judge time on a ship, but he thinks a week passes before they reenter atmosphere. It’s almost a relief when they land and Feral is finally taken out of his cell. At least it’s something different.

It’s night, and they’re in a quiet shipyard. There’s sand on the outside of the ship—a desert planet?—and a biodome stretches overhead. He feels half blind without the Force, but something about the planet feels familiar. He doesn’t realize why until a glint of metal catches his eye, and he notices someone in full armor watching them.

“This is… Mandalore?” Feral says.

He doesn’t get a response, not that he expects one. He’s reasonably certain about the planet though. The armor is distinctive, especially considering the surrounding desert. Mandalore is supposed to be Neutral though; what could they possibly want with him?

He’s lead into an enormous building. Tall ceilings. Colored glass and tapestries. Rich, he thinks. Important. He’s never set foot in a place like this before. The halls are empty, though occasionally he glimpses movement in nearby corridors. People watching them. It’s hard to tell without the Force.

They stop in front of an enormous set of double doors. At some unseen signal, they creak open, revealing a throne room. It’s all stark lines and open air. Sleek and sterile and entirely alien to him. He’s prodded towards to the throne dominating the far wall.

Reclining across the throne is a very familiar figure. Vibrant red skin and achingly familiar tattoos.

Maul.

Despite himself, part of Feral relaxes at the sight of him. He’s tried not to think of Maul since they left, but… he worried, sometimes. Maul is strong, a proper Sith, but he’s also Feral’s brother. It’s a relief to see that Maul has done well in their absence. He has, apparently, taken over a planet.

Feral cant say he’s surprised.

“Did you really believe you could hide from me?” Maul asks.

“I didn’t think you’d care enough to look,” Feral says honestly.

Not for him, certainly. Feral wasn’t a remarkable fighter, and Maul had never taken much interest in him. Maybe for Savage, his actual Apprentice, but surely there were others with his skill. Revenge, maybe? Maul is proud; he’d must’ve been angry about them leaving.

Maul stands, and Feral watches as he prowls closer. Maul is always hard to read, and it’s impossible without his connection to the Force. 

He only flinches back when Maul reaches towards his throat. His two captors hold him still, and Maul’s fingers close around the collar on his neck.

Maul unlocks it with a twist of his wrist, and the Force rushes back to meet him. Feral collapses, overwhelmed by the feel of dozens of minds nearby. Maul is the strongest: a tempest of Darkness, controlled fury, and fierce satisfaction.

Belatedly, he realizes he’s hanging from his captors’ arms, and he forces his feet back under him.

Maul’s smile is a small, sharp thing. He turns back towards his throne and motions carelessly at the Mandalorians. Feral is pulled forward until he’s standing behind Maul’s throne. Maul picks up a comm unit, and Feral has a sinking feeling he knows what’s happening.

His suspicion is confirmed when the comm connects to show a familiar ship and his brother front and center. Savage looks terrible. There’s bruises on his skin and exhaustion weighing down his shoulders. He’s snarling when he answers, but he falters as he sees Maul.

“Brother,” Savage breaths.

The word sounds different than when he’s talking to Feral. It’s sharper, almost formal instead of warm and familiar.

“Apprentice. You’ve been careless,” Maul says.

Savage frowns and tears his attention away from Maul. It lands on Feral, standing behind the throne with his hands still bound. Savage’s expression breaks open in realization. Maul practically purrs in satisfaction at the sight.

“I’ve indulged your little rebellion for long enough. You will return to my side. I expect you at Mandalore, and I suggest you move quickly.”

“Maul, wait-” Savage says, but Maul is already closing the connection. He flickers out of sight, and Feral is left in that throne room.

There’s a lump in his throat making it hard to breathe, which is foolish. He’d already known he was the extra brother, the weak one. Maul hadn’t taken any interest in him before. It makes sense Maul only wanted him to lure Savage back to his side.

“You are angry,” Maul says, staring at him with some curiosity.

Feral almost laughs. He supposes he is angry, though the taste of it is strange. He’s relieved that he was brought to Maul and not someone worse. He’s honestly happy that his older brother is doing well. And he’s upset that Maul is using him against Savage.

“I don’t appreciate being used as a hostage,” Feral says quietly.

“Then get stronger.”

Maul turned away and motioned at the guards. “Take him to the cells. He’s a valuable guest, after all.”

Feral doesn’t struggle as the guards flank him and guide him away. Maul doesn’t spare him another glance.

---

The guards don’t replace the Force-suppressing restraints. The collar stays where it’d fallen after Maul removed it. Feral wonders if this is Maul’s idea of mercy, but he’s grateful regardless. He wouldn’t do well with another week in that mental isolation.

The cell block is just as tall and sterile as the rest of the palace. Several of the cells are already filled, and Feral gets brief glances at their occupants. They’re all human. Most share similar body types and colors, and Feral feels distinctly out of place.

He barely glimpsed his neighbor as he’s pushed into his own cell. Human. That same golden hair and light skin. She’s sitting stiffly at the side of her cell, and Feral can feel her curiosity, though none of it is reflected on her face.

Then she’s out of sight, and Feral finds himself in his new cell. It’s unpleasantly blank, all sharp lines and empty space. Gingerly, he sits on the thin cot.

He lets his Force sense spread out, and it feels like he can breathe for the first time in days. The Force sings around him, and the people nearby feel like a galaxy of shifting stars. The other prisoners ache with misery and anger, but they’re bright and alive. Beyond them are the distant lights from the city itself.

He drifts in the Force for a while. He’s only brought back to himself when the woman in the other cell raps on the wall between them.

“What’s another Zabrak doing on Mandalore?” the strange woman demands. “Were you in league with that monster who stole my throne?”

Monster? What does she- Oh.

“You mean Maul?”

“So you do know him. What are you then?”

Feral laughs, though there’s no humor in the sound. There’s no reason to lie, so he decides to tell the truth.

“He’s my brother. I… left a few months back with our younger brother. I guess Maul decided he wanted us back.”

The words taste bitter on his tongue. Maul clearly wants Savage back as his Apprentice. Feral… isn’t so sure what Maul wants from him, aside from a hostage.

“My condolences.”

The conversation trails off. The stranger is so close that Feral can feel her misery. It’s buried under layers of determination and poise, but her anger is too strong to be completely brushed away.

Feral thinks about saying something else, but he can’t find the energy. He’s tired. Exhausted, really. He curls atop the thin cot, and he sleeps.

---

When he wakes, his neighbor is pacing. Feral can feel her moving, and she’s angry enough to give Feral a headache. Feral knocks gently on the wall between their cells and is rewarded with her immediate attention.

“What’s your name?” he asks.

“Satine Kryze, the legitimate Duchess of Mandalore.”

“Mine is Feral. Are you alright?” Feral asks.

Her Force presence flares with anger, and Feral flinches back.

“I am currently being held a prisoner in my own city. Considering the situation, I’m maintaining my composure remarkably well.”

Feral isn’t sure how to respond, so he says nothing. He stands and walks a short circuit around the room, trailing his hands along the walls. He’s fairly certain there’s a camera embedded in the far corner, and he can feel machinery humming under the metal. A security system? Or something more benign? He slows when he reaches the door. Glass. It’s thick, though weaker than metal would be. Probably chosen for the aesthetic.

A plan slowly takes shape in his mind. It’s probably a foolish idea, but anything has to be better than sitting here, waiting. Like most plans, it would go better with some help. He taps against the wall again.

“How well do you know your way around this building?” Feral asks.

Satine laughs. “This is my home. I know every hallway and hidden passage here.”

“If I get us out of these cages, do you think you can get us out?”

“If you… Just what are you planning on doing?”

Feral grins and tips his head against the wall separating them. “Escaping, of course. I have to try. So? What do you say?”

He’s rebelling against Maul again, so he’s fairly certain it’ll end horribly. Maul is strong and endlessly clever, but Feral isn’t willing to give up without a fight.

“Yes, I know several paths out to the city. But how-”

Feral stops listening and focuses on the glass door. He can feel the weaknesses in the material, subtle flaws and fracture lines that just need the right push to shatter. Satine’s door is harder since he can’t touch, but he takes his time. He does it right.

“Be ready,” he tells her. He can feel the guards making their rounds across the prison, and he waits until they’re far away. He pushes out, and the glass shatters.

Satine is at the front of her cell, staring at him in unbridled shock. She quickly recovers her composure. Feral reaches out to help her over the broken glass, but Satine ignores his outstretched hand.

“How can I trust this isn’t a trap?”

Feral… doesn’t have a good answer. He’s here. He just broke open her cell. If she thinks this is some elaborate trick, he’s not sure what could convince her.

“I guess you could stay here, if you’d prefer. Or you can try to make your own way out. I think we have a better chance together though.”

Satine regards him for another moment before reluctantly taking his hand and following him. In the cells, several other prisoners shout and jeer, and Feral can feel the sharp spikes of alarm from the distant guards. The blocks of cells give way to empty hallways, and they keep running.

“Are you a Jedi?” Satine asks.

Feral laughs, feeling slightly delirious with adrenaline. A Jedi. Apparently he was going to keep running into that question.

“Not at all. I have a little training, that’s all.”

Satine pulls them down one hallway and stops beside one of the many identical carved patterns in the wall. She leans down and pulls at its edge, and the entire panel folds away, revealing a narrow passage. Satine motions him inside, and Feral follows. The door closes soundlessly behind them.

A dim light radiates from underfoot, and he can barely make out Satine’s wan smile.

“For all that we tried to change, this building was built to survive war. These passages are known only to the ruling family. This one should take us a few levels down, towards one of the travel lanes.”

Feral nods and follows. Satine’s Force presence blazes with focus and adrenaline, and Feral is quickly lost in the cramped, twisting passages.

He keeps his Force sense spread out long enough to feel alarm ripple across the guards. Then he pulls himself tight and shores up his mental walls. That part is easy; something he’d done during childhood games. Harder is reaching over to dull Satine’s presence as well. Her mind is loud for a non-Force sensitive.

At the next junction, Satine hesitates for a few seconds. Feral is about to say something when Satine turns and ducks into a smaller branch. They’re getting closer to people, but Feral doesn’t say anything until Satine leans down and starts fumbling for a latch. Feral grabs her arm.

“Guards,” Feral whispers.

He can feel them walking nearby. Satine nods, and they wait until they’re alone. Then Feral turns to face her.

“This doesn’t feel near an exit,” Feral says quietly.

Outside the door, he can only feel guards instead of the promised travel lane. He has to strain to feel a speeder or the light Force presence of civilian. Satine squares her shoulders, and her conviction doesn’t waver. 

“There’s a communication center nearby. If I can get one message out, it won’t matter if we are recaptured. Obi-Wan will come. I’m sure of it.”

“Obi-Wan? You mean General Kenobi?” Feral asks with a sinking feeling in his stomach.

Satine’s lip curls. “Yes, I suppose he is calling himself a General now. ”

Oh. That’s not good.

“That’s why Maul kept you alive. You’re the trap,” he says in realization.

“Excuse me?”

Well, he certainly has her attention now. He’d been wondering why Maul was keeping Mandalore’s recently overthrown ruler alive and imprisoned. Considering she’s on first-name basis with General Kenobi, Feral can make a very unpleasant guess.

“Kenobi cut off Maul’s legs the first time they fought. Maul has a very… intense grudge against him.”

It was an understatement. No words could encompass that relentless, all-consuming hatred. If Maul had the choice between his vengeance and the galaxy itself, he’d probably chose the former.

Satine hisses and straightens, furious. “I am the chosen leader of Mandalore and speaker for fifteen hundred Neutral systems. I have guided Mandalore through war and peace for fifteen years. You’re telling me that Maul’s plan for me revolve around his feud against my estranged former lover?”

Her Force presence flares with righteous fury, and Feral gets a glimpse of her steel core. It leaves Feral with no doubt over how Satine held onto power for a decade and a half. Not that it matters now.

“Exactly,” Feral says quietly. “You’re dangerous to him and his new rule. If he didn’t have another use for you, then you’d already be dead.”

His words hit her hard. She reels back, and she quiets as she considers the new information. A moment later, her will solidifies again, and she straightens.

“Well,” Satine says, voice clipped. “I suppose I won’t be contacting Obi-Wan after all. Once we escape the palace, I have enough local allies who will protect us.”

“Lead the way,” Feral says, and she does.

Chapter 18: Conviction

All things considered, Feral is proud of their escape attempt. He and Satine almost make it outside before their luck runs out. He’s been keeping track of their pursuers through the Force, occasionally warning Satine or redirecting their path. There were no more secret passages now, though. No more tricks or strategy. Just a long, straight hallway and open air beyond it. Feral looks at the path ahead, and he knows they won’t make it. 

“They’re close,” Feral says quietly.

It’s a bad location. Even if he was alone, he isn’t sure he would make it. Satine definitely won’t.

Maul wants Feral to lure Savage back to his side. He wants to use Satine to make General Kenobi hurt. In light of that, it’s an easy decision to make.

Feral doesn’t know anything about Satine or what kind of leader she was. She could be a good person or terrible, but Maul is planning on using her against General Kenobi. Nobody deserves to die like that.

“Go on. I’ll hold them off,” Feral says.

Satine turns to him. “No. I’m no recreant to abandon an ally.”

Feral shakes his head.

“Maul needs me alive, not you; I’ll be fine. Don’t you have a duty to your people?”

Maybe it’s manipulative, but Feral knows what to say for Satine to stop arguing. She’d been proud of her leadership; of course she’d choose duty over a stranger. Predictably, Satine straightens under the reminder. She nods, wishes him luck, and runs towards the exit.

Feral can only hope it’ll be enough. She’s almost out from Maul’s stronghold, and this is her city. Hopefully she has the determination and cleverness to find her way.

Feral settles himself in the middle of the corridor and waits. Maul’s Mandalorians burn brightly in the Force, and it isn’t long before two run into view. They halt, surprised to find Feral waiting for them.

Feral doesn’t like the feel of their Force presences. Both of them burn with resolve, and the leftmost one—gray paint, jetpack—is all cruel edges and anger.

“Surrender now, boy. Lord Maul wants you alive, but he doesn’t care what condition you’re in,” the gray one says.

Feral doesn’t bother responding. There’s nothing he wants to say to these strangers, and he watches them circle. Around and around, trying to unsettle him. Wasting time as Satine gets away.

The Force calls a warning just before the gray one makes his move. He flies forward, careless with overconfidence, and Feral easily side-steps the attack. He ducks under the Mandalorian’s outstretched arm and uses the Force to throw him forward. Surprised, he loses control of his flight and slams into the wall with a shout.

Before he hits the ground, the second Mandalorian attacks. She fires a few blaster bolts—easy enough to bat aside—and lunges into close combat. She’s good; tight footwork, strong form. Her armor makes her slow though, at least compared to a Zabrak. Feral dodges her attacks, giving ground and waiting for an opening. Eventually, he finds it. She overreaches, and Feral scores a solid hit on her chest. She stumbles back, struggling to catch her breath. Feral sweeps her feet out from under her, and he backs away as she hits the ground.

She’s still struggling to her feet when the next squad arrives. Three this time, and they approach slower than the first group.

One goes to the man at the wall, who’s groaning and still hasn’t gotten up. Concussion, probably. Or broken bones. He forgets how fragile humans can be.

The other two approached him, more cautious than the first group. The first woman joins them, though she’s favoring one leg. They fan our around him, and Feral follows them with the Force instead of his eyes. They won’t underestimate him this time. They’re trained warriors, and Feral isn’t sure he can beat them all.

He doesn’t need to win, though. Just stall. The longer the Mandalorians are distracted by him, the more time Satine has to escape.

Feral centers himself in the Force, and he waits. The one at his back lunges forward. Feral dodges, and he lets the Force guide him as all three attack. Feral falls into a rhythm; dodge and redirect and counterattack. There’s no time to think, and Feral feels himself starting to falter.

Eventually, they get a good hit in. An elbow to his spine, and Feral goes down with a cry of pain. He hits the ground hard, and Feral feels the swell of their triumph. They circle closer, one of them raising a blaster-

Without looking up, without aiming at all, Feral shoves out with the Force. The Mandalorians go flying, but it takes Feral several moments to find his feet again. He catches his breath, grateful for the small break.

Feral can sense others getting closer. Maul is with them, and Feral knows he won’t defeat his older brother. Feral breaths and reminds himself it’s alright. He knew he wasn’t going to win this fight. He’s here to buy time. That’s all.

Whatever happens next, this is enough.

The Mandalorians watch him warily, blasters ready. They’re more cautious as they regroup. Feral looks past them as the next group comes into sight.

“Maul,” Feral says, and he meets his older brother’s eyes.

The Mandalorians freeze and back out of Maul’s way. Maul seems to glide forward, perfectly controlled. His eyes are a burning yellow, and his Force presence surges around him, powerful and ruthlessly disciplined.

Furious.

Feral feels pinned under his attention, but he keeps his back straight. He isn’t ashamed. Not of this. Maul’s eyes sweep over them all. The Mandalorians around him flinch away.

“Fools,” Maul says. “Gray squad, go after the Duchess. You’ve wasted enough time.”

Jetpacks activating, they go. The remaining Mandalorians shift aside, leaving Feral alone in the middle of the hall as Maul circles him. Feral feels distinctly like he’s being hunted. His instincts scream at him to react, but he shoves them down. He can’t run from Maul, and he certainly can’t defeat him. His only option is to lose with dignity.

“I must admit you surpassed my expectations. I didn’t expect you to be half this bold. Or effective.”

Maul’s circles back in front of Feral, and he stops. He looks Feral in the eye, and Feral forces himself not to flinch away.

“I find it fascinating how you took the pacifist with you. Dead weight. You then proceeded to use yourself as bait to let her get away.”

Maul’s anger flares through the Force, and it’s as much an attack as the fist coming at him. Feral dodges backwards, and then there’s no time to think. Maul is fast and brutal, and Feral can barely keep up. One mistake, a block a second too slow, and Feral finds himself on the ground, gasping for air. Maul stares down at him.

“Tell me, do you think helping the Duchess will be worth it? That you’ll be somehow rewarded? Maybe you expect some sort of rescue, when all this is done.”

Feral chokes on a laugh. Ignoring his aching chest, he pushes himself to his feet.

“I don’t expect to ever hear from her again,” Feral says honestly. They’d only known each other a few hours. If Satine was smart, she’d leave Mandalore entirely and run far away. If she wasn’t, she’d stay to appeal to her former allies. Neither option had space for a stranger she’d barely shared a few conversations with.

“Then why?”

“You would have killed her. I had the chance to save her life, and I chose to take it.”

Maul scoffed. “Sentiment,” he says, low and disdainful.

Another attack. Feral lasts even less time this round. He manages one solid hit to Mauls chin before Maul returns the favor. As he’s reeling, Maul jabs him in the stomach and knocks the legs out from under him.

Again, Maul stops. He waits and watches as Feral spits the blood out his mouth and struggles back to his feet.

So. This is Maul’s game. Watching him struggle, over and over, without hope of winning. He wonders if this is meant as punishment or some sort of test. Either way, Feral fights.

Maul is humiliatingly stronger than him, and he easily swat Feral down. Each time, Feral stands back up. He gets a little more tired, a little more bruised, and it’s harder and harder to force his feet underneath him again. He does, though. He has his pride as a Nightbrother and a warrior. He can’t win, but he can meet Maul on his feet. Over and over again.

Once, Feral tries using the Force. He throws a Force push out, and Maul slides back several steps. Snarling, Maul reaches into the Force and slams Feral into the ground hard enough he feels something crack. Feral cries out, and his vision wavers. He barely holds onto consciousness, and for a moment he wonders if he’s reached his limits.

Once more, he thinks. He can stand at least one more time. He pushes himself off the ground, but his arms give out halfway through. He falls back down, gasping as it jostles his injuries.

Part of him wants to stay down. Surely this is enough. He lost as soon as Maul arrived. No, earlier: once he decided to stay behind and let Satine escape. Standing now won’t make a difference.

Feral has never been good at giving up.

Once more, he reminds himself, and he forces his body to move. He makes it to his knees when he hears footsteps, and he looks up as Maul kneels beside him.

Maul’s eyes are that same, burning yellow. There’s a small smear of blood on his lip from where Feral landed a blow earlier. Otherwise, he seems completely unaffected as he stares down at Feral.

“Do you hate me yet, little brother?” Maul asks quietly. He sounds curious, like he hardly cares about the answer.

Feral chokes on a laugh.

“Never.”

Maul isn’t anything like Savage. He’s all sharp edges and darkness without any of Savage’s kindness, but he’s still Feral’s brother. The one who was stolen. For that, Feral can’t help but love him.

He stands.

It hurts. He is a mess of bruises and aching muscles. His right knee almost buckles underneath him, and Feral doesn’t remember twisting it. Unlike before, Maul doesn’t attack right away.

“You have conviction,” Maul says, and the words are thoughtful.

Feral wonders if he’s surprised Maul. He isn’t sure whether that would be good or bad. He raises his hands in a sloppy fighting stance, but Maul doesn’t attack again. He just watches.

“Come,” Maul says, and he turns and starts walking. He doesn’t look back.

It takes a moment for Feral to register that the fight is over. Maul keeps walking, and the Mandalorians are still watching him.

Feral does the only thing he can. He follows his brother.

---

They don’t go back to the cells.

Maul leads him to a different part of the palace. He feels people watching them, even moreso than when he’d first been paraded inside. Nobody approaches them, and Feral keeps his head down. He takes it one step at a time and forces his aching body to keep moving.

Eventually, the crowds thin out. The hallways become more opulent in that strange Mandalorian way, all open space and intricate wall carvings. Maul stops in front of a large, elegantly carved door and motions Feral inside.

It’s some sort of personal quarters. There’s a large living area with several rooms branching off it, and this area alone is larger than his old home on Dathomir. Confused, Feral turns to Maul.

“I dislike waste. You’re of little use to me in a prison cell.”

Feral nods, though he isn’t quite sure what he’s agreeing to. Maul steps closer and lifts Feral’s chin so he’s forced to meet his eyes.

“Try to escape again, and I’ll break both your legs,” Maul promises.

Feral swallows. Nods. He hadn’t expected any kind of second chance or mercy, and he isn't sure how to react. Whatever Maul is looking for, he seems to find it. He releases Feral's chin and steps back.

Maul leaves, and the door clicks shut behind him. Feral stays where he is for several minutes, but nothing happens. He’s alone.

It’s tempting to collapse immediately, but Feral forces himself to explore first. It seems like standard living quarters. There’s a well-stocked med-kit in the ‘fresher. A small cooking area and soft chairs for sitting. Clothes in one bedroom, made of better fabric than anything Feral has ever worn. The other bedroom is similarly designed, and the clothing is several sizes larger. Feral is sure it’s meant for Savage.

Feral walks back to the main room and stands in its center.

It’s nothing like home, but clearly Maul prepared this space for him and Savage. He wonders if these rooms are meant as a reward or a nicer prison. Or another test. All three seem equally likely. Feral isn’t sure how to feel about it, and he's too tired to think or untangle any of Maul's plots. He goes to the ‘fresher instead. He’s scraped up and filthy, and that, at least, is something he can fix.

The faucets run with clean water, and his injuries burn as he washes them. Considering how much he hurts, he's better off than expected. Maul was careful with his attacks. One of his ribs feels crackled, but otherwise there’s only bruises and stressed muscles. Nothing that needs more than a heat pack and a few days of rest.

When he ducks his head under the faucet, he's surprised by the pain in his neck. His hands find half-healed scratches circling his neck, and Feral belatedly remembers how he’d panicked over the Force-suppressing collar. A few are deeper than he'd expected, and his finger comes away streaked in red where it'd broken open again.

He carefully cleans the skin and tries to bandage it, but the feel of something wrapped around his neck makes that old terror rise again. Feral stays there, counting each breath, until his emotions settle. Then he carefully packs the med-kit away and tries to forget about the scratches.

When he's done, Feral hesitates over his old clothes. They’re torn and dirty, but he’d gotten them in Valdoria. Adha had helped pick them out, and he has little left from those peaceful months before the Separatists attacked. Feral carefully folds them and sets them aside for mending. That first bedroom has a few pairs of sleeping clothes, and Feral carefully tugs one on. They fit, and Feral tangles his fingers in the sleeves. It’s soft and warm and nothing like the styles on Dathomir or Valdoria.

Exhausted, Feral lays on the bed and sleeps.

Chapter 19: Displays of Force

Feral is bored.

Hours pass. A day.

The room is pleasant enough. It’s fancier than anywhere he’s been before, though Feral would instantly trade its plush carpets and intricate carvings for the packed earth and rough walls of his old home. There’s food and a fresher, and the silence is thick enough to drown beneath.

The door is unlocked, but Feral doesn’t dare leave. He’s buried in the heart of the palace now, and he doesn’t have Satine as a guide. His chance at escape is vanishingly small, and Feral doesn’t doubt Maul’s threat.

Instead, he explores every inch of the floor and walls. He washes the dirt off himself and mends his clothing. He doesn’t want to tie his mind in knots worrying about Maul or Savage, so he scours the room for distractions instead.

Feral is practicing with the Force when he senses Maul approaching, and he jerks to attention. His concentration breaks, and the furniture he’d been levitating falls to the ground with a crash. There’s no time to fix anything before the door opens, and Maul is there.

Feral freezes, embarrassed, but Maul doesn’t seem to notice the mess.

“Follow me,” Maul says, and he sweeps away.

Feral hesitates, but Maul doesn’t stop. Feral rushes to catch up, and he falls into step behind his older brother. He’s burning with questions, but he doesn’t say anything.

The palace is a maze of landings and corridors, and Feral quickly gets lost. Occasionally they pass Mandalorians, who bow at Maul. Feral can feel their eyes on his back, weighted with suspicion and curiosity.

They reach a heavy set of double doors, and Maul throws it open without slowing. It’s a large room. The floor is padded, and various gear and weapons line the walls. A training room.

Maul throws something at him, and Feral catches it on instinct. It’s a small metal cylinder. Heavy, despite its size, and it seems to hum in his hands. It takes Feral a moment to recognize it as a lightsaber.

“I don’t understand,” Feral says quietly. If he focuses, he can feel the power contained in the lightsaber. It seems to sing in the Force, though the song is oddly discordant.

“I plan on keeping you. It would be wasteful of me to leave you untrained.”

Feral’s breath catches, and there’s something tight in his chest. There’s nothing soft in Maul’s voice or face, but… it’s something. An acknowledgment of kinship, if nothing else. It’s more than he had before.

Carefully, Feral activates the lightsaber. The plasma blade blazes into life, a bright, burning crimson. The blade itself has no weight to it, and it feels strange in Feral’s hand. The humming grows louder, vibrating up his arm.

He swings the blade a few times, holding it carefully with both hands. The blade sings with the Force as if it wants to be used. Feral grins, delighted. For a few moments, he forgets Maul is watching him. Then Maul activates his own lightsaber, and Feral is abruptly very aware of him.

“Attack. I want to see your limits,” Maul says.

Feral almost argues with him. His limits with a lightsaber should be self-evident. This is his first time even holding the weapon, and he’s more likely to cut his own arm off than anything else.

The words don’t leave his mouth. Maul is waiting, and Feral…

He can’t trust Maul the way he wishes he could. Maul is powerful though, and he is never careless. He wouldn’t let Feral injure himself pointlessly.

Feral adjusts his grip on the lightsaber handle. He swings it a few more times, familiarizing himself with its strange balance. Then he raises the blade, and he attacks.

---

Maul is an impatient teacher, though not a cruel one. Feral is clumsy and ignorant. He makes mistake after mistake, and Maul pushes him past his limits. Feral isn't allowed to rest, and Maul only stops when Feral is physically unable to stand again.

Not once does Maul hurt him. When Maul disarms him, his lightsaber stops inches above Feral’s skin. When Feral fumbles the lightsaber—which happens embarrassingly often—Maul catches it with the Force before Feral hurts himself.

He’s aching and exhausted by the time he stumbles back to his room, but it’s not an unpleasant feeling. He's used to training and hard work, and this feels no different than a thousand other days in the training rings. He’s in his bedroom before he realizes he’s still holding the lightsaber. His lightsaber, he supposes. Feral goes to put it away and hesitates before his hand leaves the handle.

It feels wrong to set it down. The weapon resonates in the Force, and it feels like it’s supposed to be near him. Without Maul nearby, the discordant note seems louder and more jarring. Keeping it close seems to help, especially when he lets the Force flow between them.

He falls asleep like that. Still in his day clothes with one hand pressed to the hilt of his lightsaber.

---

Maul comes for him every day. Each session is as exhausting as the first, but Feral unashamedly enjoys them. Anything would be better than brooding in his rooms, and he'd always liked training. He practices in his spare moments too, running through basic stances until he stops fumbling the weapon and its odd balance feels almost natural in his hand.

The more time he spends with his lightsaber, the calmer its Force resonance feels. It’s not much, but it gives him hope that someday it’ll smooth out into a proper melody.

So, he isn’t surprised when Maul comes to retrieve him. Not until they turn down unfamiliar hallways, and Feral realizes that Maul’s Force present feels different. Satisfied.

“Maul? Has something happened?” Feral asks.

Maul barely spares him a glance. “A small ship just entered my airspace. It seems our brother is finally making his appearance.”

Savage. Hope and unease burns in Feral’s chest. It’s been almost a tenday since he last saw his younger brother, and he worries. He’s not sure if he should be more or less afraid now that Savage is close.

They reach the throne room without exchanging any more words. Maul, of course, heads for the throne. When they reach the top of the dais, Maul turns to him. He raises his hand, and Feral’s lightsaber pulls free of his belt and flies to Maul’s hand. Feral jerks forward and bites back a protest. He’s only had the lightsaber a couple days, but already it feels wrong to see someone else holding it.

This is Maul, though. Feral doesn’t want to fight him, and he certainly couldn’t win if he tried. Maul gives him a moment to control himself before speaking.

“Kneel,” Maul says.

Awkwardly, Feral does. It’s not a position he’s familiar with. The Nightsisters always wanted them standing at attention, with face and body on display. Compared to that, Feral doesn’t mind kneeling. He relaxes his weight against his heels and lets his hands rest loosely against his knees.

He stares evenly up at Maul. He’s not sure what his brother wants from him. Feral certainly isn’t feeling humiliated by the display.

Maul radiates satisfaction regardless, and he takes his place on the throne. He sprawls  across the ornate stone, and his eyes sweep over the empty room. Then he reaches down and, with one finger, tips Feral’s chin up.

“You will stay where you are until I give you permission to move,” Maul says. It isn’t even an order; just a statement of fact.

Feral inclines his head in acknowledgment. Maul releases him, and his attention drifts elsewhere. Kneeling in the empty room quickly grows boring, and Feral stretches his Force sense outward. 

The Mandalorians rush around the compound, focused in ways Feral hasn’t sensed from them before. Feral recognizes this particular blend of excitement, determination, and unease. They’re fighting. Losing too, he thinks, which means-

He feels him.

Savage.

In the Force, Savage burns almost as bright as Maul and with a fraction of his control. He’s furious and hurting and here. Feral rocks forward, and for a moment all he can think about is getting back to his brother’s side. Maul’s hand on the back of his head reminds him of when and where he is.

The door explodes off its hinges, and then Savage is there, standing in the broken doorway.

He’s bleeding. Bright red blood streaks one arm, and his other brandishes a lit lightsaber. His eyes are fever-bright, and they find Feral immediately. He snarls when he sees Feral sitting next to Maul’s throne.

“Apprentice. How kind of you to finally join us,” Maul says calmly, as if Savage hadn’t just fought his way through the palace. Savage stalks to the middle of the room, and his lightsaber blazes in his hand. Maul frowns.

“Put that away,” Maul says, and this time it is an order.

Savage’s hand tightens around his lightsaber. He glances between them. Then he lets his hand fall, and the blade goes out.

“What are you planning, Maul?” Savage asks.

The Force howls around him, and Savage feels afraid. Feral wants to say something. He isn’t hurt, and he doesn’t think Maul plans to harm them. Maul is clearly making a statement, and he wouldn’t welcome interference. Feral stays quiet.

“The thought of killing him had crossed my mind,” Maul says casually, and his fingers tighten around Feral’s throat.

Feral stops breathing. He hates things touching his neck. Wrapping around, squeezing. Maul’s hands barely press into his skin, but Feral’s head feels like it’s full of static.

Savage takes an aborted step forward. Maul’s glare freezes him in place.

“Such terror,” Maul says. “You should be more careful, my Apprentice. It is dangerous to make your weaknesses so obvious. Besides…”

Maul gentles his grip. He trails his hand up to stroke against the tips of Feral’s horns. It’s a comforting, familial gesture; one he and Savage had shared countless times.  Feral’s head spins, caught between lingering terror and a desperate desire for comfort.

“I’ve always been possessive. He’s mine the same way you are,”

Maul moves before Feral registers the change. He grabs Feral and casually tosses him forward. Feral stumbles, and Savage catches him. This close, Savage’s fear is almost suffocating, barely tempered by the relief of having Feral within reach.

“What do you want?” Savage asks.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Maul says. “I want your obedience. This was your one attempt at rebellion. I suggest you don’t try again, or you will force me to get creative.”

He throws the words out carelessly, as though the threat means nothing to him. It’s just fact. There's nowhere they can run where Maul won't find them. If they disobey again, they will suffer. Then he lifts a hand and waves them away.

“I trust you remember the way to your quarters, Feral. Show my Apprentice the way. I’ll summon you when I have need of your services.”

Feral inclines his head. He still feels shaken, and he’s grateful for the chance to leave. Savage hesitates, but Feral tugs him away from Maul and the throne room. Even as the doors close behind them, Savage doesn’t relax.

They attract attention as they walk. Nobody stops them, but he can feel them watching. Some are curious. Several are injured and angry, though it’s mixed with a begrudging respect.

Savage glares at each person they pass and keeps him close. Feral can feel the ache of bruising skin under Savage’s fingers, but he doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t want Savage to let go.

It’s a relief when they reach their quarters and Feral can lock the others out. Savage’s grip doesn’t loosen, and Feral leans back against his chest. For the first time in weeks, he feels safe. Savage’s Force presence wraps around him, warm and fiercely protective.

 Savage pulls away first. “Are you hurt?” he asks and starts inspecting Feral before getting a response. He frowns when he notices the healing scratches on Feral’s throat.

“Your neck…” he says and reaches towards it.

Feral panics. As soon as he sees those fingers near his throat, he throws himself backwards. He doesn’t realize what he’s done until his back hits the wall. Savage is left in front of him, hand outstretched. He looks stricken.

“Sorry, I-” Feral starts. Swallows hard and tries to center himself. “The bounty hunters used a Force suppressing collar. I don’t like things touching my neck.”

He doesn’t mention the other reason. Savage’s hand and the Nightsister’s orders. The memory hangs painfully in the air between them anyway.

“I’m fine,” he says and wills it to be true. This isn’t new. The collar and then Maul brought things to the surface, that’s all. 

Savage doesn’t try touching him again. He clenches his fists and holds his arms stiffly at his side. Blood drips from one of his fists, and Feral shoves that old fear away to focus on more important things.

There hadn’t been time to really look at his brother before. Savage looks horrible. He’s wearing his armor again, although some of the plating is dented against his injured arm. The metal is smeared with dirt and blood. 

Of course Savage hasn’t been taking care of himself on his own. He must’ve been sick with worry.

“Let’s get that armor off,” Feral says, and he reaches for the clasps on his vambrace. Together, they make quick work of the metal, leaving Savage in the padded linen underneath. Even without the armor, he smells of travel and blasterfire. Feral prods at the gash on Savage's arm, but it's shallow and already clotting off. The rest is just bruising.

“You need a shower and some rest,” Feral decides.

Savage glances down and seems almost surprised at the state of himself. He doesn’t resist as Feral nudges him towards the fresher, but he hesitates in the doorway.

“Don’t worry. I’m not going anywhere,” Feral says.

Savage nods and walks inside, though he leaves the door cracked open. After a few minutes, the shower turns on, and Feral leans against the wall. He eyes the pieces of armor strewn across the room.

If it were up to him, Feral would toss the armor in the trash. He wanted him and Savage to be safe and free, far from the war. Instead, they’re right back where they started.

Well. Not quite. Last time, Savage could barely look at him, and Maul hadn’t cared that he existed. Feral is stronger this time, even if he can't compare to his brothers, and he has Savage back at his side.

Sighing, Feral reaches for the nearest piece of armor and starts wiping it down. Much as he hates the armor, it’s meant to keep his brother safe. For that alone it deserves his respect.

He’s partway through when Savage finishes in the fresher. There’s something in his hand, but Feral doesn’t get a good look before Savage kneels beside him.

“Hold still,” Savage says. A moment later, Feral feels a weight against his horn. Curious, he reaches up to feel delicate metal against his fingers. It’s the decorative pendant from earlier.

He’d almost forgotten about that market stall and the night spent painting Savage’s horns. He must’ve left the pendant in their room before leaving for the market. With everything that’d happened, he hadn’t spared it a thought. Of course Savage had carried it with him ever since.

“Thank you,” Feral says quietly. Together, they finish the armor and leave it stacked neatly in the corner.

“Sleep next,” Feral orders, and he herds Savage towards his new room. He means to leave Savage and stand guard outside, but Savage stops him.

“You need rest too,” he says.

Feral grimaces. He can’t deny he’d slept poorly since they’d been separated. He’s not nearly as bad off as Savage though, and he doesn’t want to go back to his room alone.

“I’ll be fine a while longer. You don’t-”

Savage interrupts his excuses by bullying him further into the room. He very carefully doesn’t grab him or use any force. If Feral wanted, he could easily pull free. He doesn’t.

Savage takes one look at the large bed in the center of the room, scoffs, and pushes it until it’s safely pressed against the walls. He nudges Feral down first before settling down, a solid barrier between Feral and the door. For a moment, Feral just watches him. Savage is turned away, watching the door, but Feral can feel how the tension slowly leeches out of him. Relief and exhaustion takes it place, and Feral can't help smiling at his back.

“Just like old times,” Feral says.

They’d often shared a sleeping mat when they’d been young. There’d been a stretch of years when Feral was afraid to let his only remaining kin out of sight. They’d eventually grown out of it, but sometimes the nightmares were bad.

The nightmares are worse now than they’d ever been, but that night Feral sleeps deeply. 

Chapter 20: Adjustments

Feral comes gently back to wakefulness. He’s warm, and Savage’s Force presses comfortingly against his own. With a thought, Feral can reach over and sense the slow, relaxed slide of Savage’s emotions as he sleeps. It feels safe, and Feral allows himself to luxuriate in the sensation.

Savage sprawled out overnight, and his frame fills most of the bed, leaving Feral pressed against the wall. Feral gently touches his shoulder, but Savage grumbles and burrows deeper into his blankets. He still looks exhausted, so Feral doesn’t try again.

Carefully, Feral squirms around his brother to the floor. As soon as his feet hit the ground, a hand closes over his shoulder.

“Feral?” Savage says, and his voice is thick with sleep. His eyes are slitted open, and the sour taste of fear is already rising in his mind.

Feral pats his arm and presses reassurance through the Force. “Hey, Savage. We’re in our rooms on Mandalore. I was going to get something to eat,” he says.

Savage rubs at his eyes and pushes himself upright. The feel of his fear fades, but he doesn’t loosen his grip on Feral’s shoulder as they walk. The kitchen is well-stocked with food, and the elaborate apartment feels much less intimidating with company.

As the morning passes, he feels Savage’s eyes on him. It’s easy to ignore at first, but eventually the attention starts to grow heavier. Around midmorning, there’s a light touch on Feral’s shoulder.

“What happened after the bounty hunters took you?” Savage asks.

Feral… hesitates.

Normally, Feral hates hiding things from his brother. Except, Savage still has bruises under his eyes from exhaustion, and Feral doesn’t want to make that worry worse.

“You didn’t miss anything important,” Feral says instead. “The bounty hunters brought me here, and I’ve mostly been ignored since then. I mean it, Savage. I’m fine.”

It’s true, even. Nobody here has hurt him, and the rest—that initial fear, the prison cell—is just details. It’s been a confusing, stressful several days, but that’s all.

Savage’s eyes drop down to the scratches on Feral’s neck before he looks away. He doesn’t ask again though, which Feral is grateful for.

Savage lurks nearby throughout the morning. He doesn’t say much, but he doesn’t let Feral out of sight either. Feral doesn’t mind; the separation had been hard on him too.

Except, Savage has never done well with confinement. He’s always preferred wandering and wide open spaces. By noon, Savage’s hands start twitching. Another couple hours, and Feral finds himself perched on the couch, watching Savage pace in circles around the room. Then Savage realizes the outer door is unlocked. He opens the door and glances around. When nothing stops him, he starts walking. Cursing, Feral follows.

The hallways outside their room are empty, and Feral glances uneasily around them. Security cameras are sprinkled intermittently along the halls, and he can sense strangers moving around in the distance.

"I’m not sure we should do this,” Feral says. Savage doesn’t stop.

“Maul didn’t bring us here to sit and do nothing. If he wants us to hide away, he can tell us himself.”

Feral still hesitates, remembering Maul’s threats about breaking his legs if he tried escaping again. They’re not trying to run, though. And the door was unlocked.

Well. He’s certainly done stupider things. Besides, it’s hard to feel afraid with Savage at his side.

Eventually, they pass near what looks like a communal meal hall. It’s near midday, and the room is crowded with strangers. He smells food, and the spices tickle his nose. Savage—who doesn’t know the meaning of the word subtle—walks straight in.

Conversation dies down, and dozens of heads turn to face them. Feral winces away from the full force of their attention, but Savage meets their stares without flinching.

A minute later, they’re sitting at a back table with meals in front of them, and Savage looks decidedly smug. 

Slowly, the intense focus on them shifts away, and Feral breathes easier. He pokes at the food, curious despite himself. It’s certainly geared towards humans, and the spice tingles oddly on his tongue. He likes it anyway.

They’re almost done when one of the Mandalorians stands and approaches them. She’s in armor, helmet in hand, and something about her seems familiar. Before he can place the feeling, she stops in front of them. Savage glares at her, but she ignores him to stare at Feral.

“My name is Riye. I want a rematch,” she tells him.

Oh, that’s why she’s familiar. She was one of the Mandalorians he’d fought while Satine escaped. Feral vaguely remembers using the Force to throw her into a wall.

“You were fighting?” Savage asks, glancing between them.

Ah.

Feral probably should’ve mentioned his escape attempt, at least. Whoops. Before he can say anything, Riye laughs and answers for him.

“This guy staged a jail break during his first day on-planet, and he let our most valuable prisoner—the former Duchess Satine—escape.”

Savage turns an incredulous look towards him. “Feral?”

Feral flinches and grins, caught between embarrassment and a fierce stab of pride. He’s not on the level of Sith or Jedi, but he’s still a damn good warrior.

“She didn’t deserve to die, so I helped her. It worked out alright.”

“Soft,” Savage accuses, but his voice is fond. Feral rolls his eyes, but he doesn’t argue.

He turns back towards Riye. She doesn’t feel angry about loosing. Her mind burns with a fierce determination, but it feels bright and clean. He doubts she’s planning to lure them into a trap.

It’s been a long time since he sparred against anyone besides Savage. Not since Dathomir, really. It sounds fun.

“Alright,” he decides. “Any rules for the spar?”

“None of that Force osik this time,” she says. “I want a fair fight.”

“Then no distance weapons or armor either. Just hand to hand.”

She scoffs. “You’re a Zabrak. I keep my armor.”

Feral considers it then inclines his head. He’s never spared with anyone besides a Nightbrother before. Even on Valdoria, he’d only fought droids. He remembers how much softer Fives and Echo had felt, though. Humans are fragile. 

Riye holds out her hand, and they shake on it.

---

He follows her to the training halls. A small crowd  gathers, some in armor and some without. Most are humans, though there’s a handful of other species mixed in. Savage lingers at his shoulder, and Feral watches as Riye clear a sparring mat.

Several other Mandalorians gather around, jostling for position to watch. Feral eyes them with amusement; it reminds him of the Nightbrothers and their endless competitions. Everyone loves a good spectacle.

Riye notices his gaze, and she smiles. “They’re curious. Rumors have been flying about you two since Maul put out the order to bring you here. We all want to see how strong you are.”

She takes her place in the center of the sparring mat, and Feral joins her. Another Mandalorian steps forward to referee. He gives the signal, and they fight. 

She’s good. Fast, with good footwork and better defense. The armor makes things difficult; it’s harder to get a handhold or a solid hit. Not impossible though, and Feral wins the first bout when he slides under Riye’s guard and throws her out of the ring. It takes her a moment to regain her feet, and she immediately demands another round.

Riye feels a little like bruised pride. Mostly, though, she radiates enthusiasm and the familiar buzz of a good fight. Grinning, Feral agrees to another match.

Feral wins the next few rounds, though the fight gets closer each time. The crowd watching them only grows, and they shout along with every good blow or near miss. Most are rooting for Riye, but Feral earns cheers anytime he lands a good hit. 

Then Riye slides a small club out of a hidden holster, and Feral barely gets his arm up in time to block it. The blow sends him stumbling back, and she pushes the advantage while he’s off-balance. 

The edge of the sparring mat rapidly approaches when Feral finally gets his foot planted behind him, and he pivots around Riye’s arm. He charges shoulder-first into her ribs, and the force lifts her off her feet.

There’s a loud crack as her armor hits the floor, and for a moment Feral is worried he hurt her. Then she groans, and the sound is more frustration than pain.

Riye wearily raises a hand into the air, acknowledging her loss. When Feral holds a hand out, she takes and lets him pull her upright. The metal of her gauntlet is smooth against his palm.

“Are all Nightbrothers like you three?” she asks.

Feral laughs and shakes his head. “Our clan was always strong. Most Brothers aren’t trained in the Force at all.”

There’s some commotion at the entrance, and a hush falls over the room. Feral turns and sees the crowd shifting to clear a path towards them.

Feral doesn’t recognize the Mandalorian that enters. She’s in full armor, including helmet, and a variety of weapons are prominently displayed, including a large projectile weapon across her back. Beside him, Riye gasps. 

“That’s Root Kast. She’s Lord Maul’s lieutenant,” she whispers. She bows and scurries back into the crowd as Kast approaches him.

“Mind if I cut in? I’d like to test your skills myself,” Kast says. It isn’t a question.

Savage growls and steps forward to loom over Feral’s shoulder. Feral leans back, brushing their shoulders together, but he keeps his eyes on Kast.

There’s a part of Feral that wants to say no. This Kast is clearly used to being obeyed. Would she accept a refusal? Let them walk away without a fight? How far would she go to get her way?

He pushes the urge down. He doesn’t want to make Kast his enemy, and a spar is a simple enough thing. Better to play along. 

“Alright. Same rules? No Force, no projectile weapons,” Feral says.

Without a word, Kast twists and removes the large weapon from her back. A few more projectile weapons follow suit. Then she turns back to him.

“There are spare weapons along the wall. Pick one,” she says.

Feral pauses, unsure how to respond. This feels like some sort of test, but Feral isn’t sure what the right answer is. 

“Hand to hand is fine with me,” Feral says.

Kast doesn’t twitch, and the blank metal covering her face is impossible to read.

“Do you have experience with short or mid-range weapons?” Kast asks.

“Well, yes, but-”

“Pick one.”

Feral obeys. At their side, one wall is covered with various weapons, well-used but impeccably maintained. Feral only recognizes a fraction of the weapons: some have odd curves or extra blades, and many glint with circuitry. Feral brushes his hand over a switch inlaid in a staff, and electricity sparks over one end. 

Feral avoids the more exotic weapons. His hands itch to try them out, but now isn’t the time for experimenting. Better to stick to something he knows how to use.

He finds something with short wooden grip, only a couple handwidths long, that ends in a curved blade. He wraps his hand around the handle and gives it a few swings. The material has a satisfying weight to it, and its balance is perfect. There’s a second, identical one behind it; a dual-blade.

“It’s called a kama. Good versatility,” Kast says.

Feral nods and gives the kama another few swings. He has some experience with dual weapons, and the angled blade will be useful against Kast’s armor. Kamas in hand, he turns back.

Kast is waiting at the center of the ring. Feral takes his place in front of her and meets her gaze unflinchingly. This, at least, he knows how to handle. He’s a good fighter. If Kast wants to test his skill for herself, then Feral will give her a show.

A referee signals the start of the match, but Feral only shifts his weight, eyes locked on Kast. Kast is Maul’s lieutenant. Maul doesn’t suffer incompetence: she must be strong.

A moment passes and Kast starts pacing around the edges of the ring. Feral follows suite, maintaining a careful distance as they circle another. Around them, the watching crowd is dead silent, and the weight of their anticipation is heavy enough to choke on. Feral tightens his hold on the kamas.

The tension breaks. With a twist of her wrist, a cudgel unfolds from Kast’s vambrace. In the same motion, she charges at Feral.

The first clash is a test. Kast leads with her cudgel, and Feral pushes her aside. They exchange a rapid series of blows and break apart just as quickly. Feral’s wrist stings from the strength of her attacks, and he knows he dealt an equal blow against Kast’s shoulder.

She’s fast, he thinks. More than he’d expected with the armor. The armor makes her sturdy too: a dangerous combination. Her movement had a directness to it, though. Something bordering inflexible, full of frontal attacks and quick parries. She’s too skilled for him to call it a true weakness, but it’s a place to start.

Feral makes the next move. He came from the side, catching Kast’s cudgel with one kama and trying to swing under her guard with the second. Kast twists at the last moment, and the blade leaves sparks across her armor instead. His first blade is still tangled against the cudgel, and Feral angles it further aside, trying to pull Kast  off-balance. Instead, she follows the movement and counters with a jab from her free hand. Feral deflects it, but the motion strains his wrist where he’s still locked against Kast’s cudgel. Feral almost looses his hold on the handle before he disengages and steps back instead. 

He takes a moment to catch his breath, and they watch each other across the sparring mat. The light reflects off Kast’s armor. Distantly, Feral notes an odd, almost sour note to her Force presence.

“Did you know that Mandalorians were once considered the biggest threat against the Jedi?” Kast says. “We went to war against them. Half our weapons were designed to be used against Force-users.”

It’s clearly a threat. Feral spent his first day here in a jail cell then helping another prisoner escape. He isn’t surprised that someone is displeased that he’s walking around freely now.

Still, he doesn’t want to make enemies. Easier to ignore the threat.

“I’m glad Maul has a strong group loyal to him,” Feral says neutrally.

“Mm. Clearly his brothers weren’t up for the task.”

The jab finds its mark. Feral is a Nightbrother; family means everything to them. The situation with Maul is… complicated. Feral isn’t sure what to do, but he doesn’t want to hear some stranger judge them.

“Maul is my brother. I wouldn’t do anything to hurt him,” Feral says tightly.

“Considering your first act here involved releasing Lord Maul’s sworn enemy, I find that hard to believe.”

Feral bristles, but before he can respond, Kast lunges forward. Feral barely dodges her fist, and the cudgel follows soon after. The next several blows follow swiftly, and Feral deflects them with his kamas. He pushes harder this time, trying to break through her guard, but Kast doesn’t give him the opening. 

He’ll have to get creative.

On the next parry, Feral shifts the kama and locks it against Kast’s cudgel again. He holds it there a moment, testing Kast’s strength. Then Feral sacrifices his grip and lets the kama drop, and Kast stumbles as the loss of resistance leaves her off-balance. 

It earns him a split-second opening, but that’s all Feral needs. He dives low, hooking his foot around Kast’s ankle and tackling her the rest of the way to the ground.

The armor makes Kast heavier than him, but Feral is faster. He gets a good lock against one of Kast’s shoulders and pins it against the ground. She lurches back and tries to kick him off, but Feral rolls with the motion and doesn’t budge. He adjusts his grip into something more secure and dares to think he could win.

Then Kast jerks forward, and pain explodes over Feral’s cheek as her helm slams into him.

Headbutts were common attacks with Zabraks, and they'd stopped phasing him a long time ago. It hadn't occurred to him that Kast's helm would be different. Feral's vision goes white, and his grip loosens. Even half-blind with pain, he notices movement and dodges backwards. When his vision clears, he finds himself staring down the blade of a long knife. He freezes.

“Got you,” Kast says.

Feral stares up at her, surprised. The intense pain is fading into an ache, but nothing is broken. That knife is far too close to his neck. In the time it took Kast to speak, she could’ve easily used it. He’s lost.

Feral laughs. 

Maybe he should be upset about loosing to someone who clearly bears him a grudge, but…

It was a good fight. He can feel blood trickling down his chin and the ache of developing bruises. He hasn’t lost a spar in ages, and already he wants another look at Kast’s fighting style. His mind whirls with possible counters. She wouldn’t get him with the same trick twice, and he wants to see what else she can do.

“Again,” he says, grinning. 

Kast stares down at him, radiating surprise, then laughs. Her helmet gives the sound a mechanical echo.

“Another time; I have other responsibilities tonight. Who knows? Maybe you’ll impress me.”

She offers him a hand, and Feral takes it. The metal is cool against his skin as she pulls him to his feet. Then she turns away, and Feral watches her leave. 

Kast disappears into the crowd of Mandalorians. She exchanges words with several of them on her way towards the door. Feral watches her go, unsure how to feel. 

Savage is at his side immediately. Feral almost teases him about it, but there’s an edge of true distress to his Force presence. It eases with Feral within reach again, so Feral just sighs and knocks against Savage’s shoulder.

“It was just a spar,” he says. “I’ve gotten worse bruises from competitions in the village.”

“She wanted to hurt you.”

Despite Kast’s threats, the thought doesn’t sit quite right. Feral has met Nightsisters who like hurting people. There’s always an edge to their Force presence, a cruelty. Kast felt nothing like that. Oh, Feral was certain she’d carry out her threats if needed, but he didn’t think she’d make the first move.

He wonders who would win in a real fight. Feral would have the Force, but Kast has an impressive array of weapons in her armor. He thinks it could go either way.

It’s an interesting thought; Feral hopes he never has to find out for sure.

---

Maul gives them a few days to settle. They venture outside several more times, though they don’t return to the sparring rooms again. Feral enjoys the communal areas, especially when he can sit aside and watch Mandalorians moving in and out.

One morning, there’s a knock on the door. Before they can do anything, the door slides open, revealing Maul.

It’s been a few days since they last saw their older brother, and Feral’s heartrate picks up. As always, Maul is perfectly composed. There’s a glint of satisfaction in his eyes as he looks them over. 

Savage stands, but his movements are oddly hesitant as he walks closer.

“Maul…” Savage starts, but he trails off without saying anything else. Maul waits a moment. When Savage just stands there, fists clenched, Maul gives a soft laugh.

“Oh, control yourself, Apprentice. I’m not here for you,” Maul says, and he looks towards Feral instead.

“Come,” Maul says, and he tosses something at Feral. Feral moves to catch it, but Savage is faster. He grabs the object out of the air and stares at it, confused.

It’s Feral’s lightsaber. Maul had taken it earlier, and Feral realizes he’s missed the weight of it on his waist and through the Force.

“What’s this?” Savage demands. 

Feral grabs his lightsaber from Savage and gratefully clips it back on his belt. The crystal’s resonance feels slightly harsher than before, so Feral takes a moment to soothe it.

“It’s mine. Maul was teaching me,” Feral says. Now that he thinks about it, this is when Maul normally comes for their training sessions. Feral had quietly assumed those would stop now that Maul’s real Apprentice was back. He’s… not displeased to be wrong.

Confusion gives way to realization, but Savage doesn’t calm down. His grip tightens on Feral’s shoulder, and he pulls Feral behind him. 

“No,” Savage says, staring at Maul. “Feral isn’t like us. He isn’t suited to battlefields, and he-”

“Enough.”

Savage falls silent. He’s still standing in front of Feral, shielding him from Maul. Afraid, Feral thinks, which doesn’t make sense. Maul is their kin. He’s a harsh teacher but not a cruel one, and his training sessions were no worse than ones back on Dathomir.

Maul walks closer and stops in front of Savage. Despite his size, Savage seems to shrink before him. 

“You’d prefer to keep Feral weak, then?” Maul says. “Surely you don’t think you can shield him from the war entirely.”

His words land hard, and Savage flinches back. Maul smiles, thin and satisfied.

“Mm. I thought not. Seeing as you neglected to train our brother during your little escapade, I decided to step in. You will not interfere.”

Savage hesitates. His grip on Feral’s shoulder tightens before deliberately releasing. Feral steps out from behind him, brushing a reassuring hand across his arm as he follows Maul.

He feels Savage’s gaze burning against his back until the door slides closed behind him.

---

Feral is distracted.

It’s a problem, considering he’s meant to be training. Maul has little patience for carelessness and less for incompetence. Feral tries to focus, but he can’t quite manage it. He keeps thinking of Savage and all the questions he’s been ignoring.

Savage had mentioned battlefields. Feral hadn’t thought it through before, but… Maul doesn’t do anything without purpose. His older brother is cunning and ambitious, and he’s always balancing a dozen different plots.

Feral hasn’t forgotten why he left. The things Maul has done in search of power. People he’s killed. He tries to imagine what Maul might want from him and feels sick.

When Maul throws him on the ground for the dozenth time, Feral stays there a moment too long. He opens his eyes to the hum of Maul’s lightsaber and the feel of heat against his skin. Maul’s lightsaber is pointed at his chest, and it singes Feral’s shirt when he breathes in.

“Enough,” Maul growls. “Have I neglected to give you proper motivation? If so, I can easily correct the lapse.”

Even staring down a lightsaber, Feral can’t muster up any true fear. Despite everything, Maul has never intentionally harmed him. Threatened and kidnapped, yes, but… there was never any cruelty to it. Even now, Feral only senses annoyance from his brother.

“What do you want from me?” Feral asks, ignoring Maul’s lightsaber. “Savage is right; I’m not like you. I hate hurting people, and I don’t care about power. So what’s the point of all this?”

Maul stares down at him, head tilted. “You are mine. I will not allow you to be weak; I’m sure a purpose will reveal itself in time. Now, stand.”

Feral does. He reactivates his lightsaber and pushes those questions to the back of his mind. Maul hasn’t asked anything of him yet. For now, he has his lightsaber in hand, and he only has to learn.

For once, he’s grateful when the training session ends.

---

When Maul returns him to his rooms, bruised and tired, Savage is waiting. He’d been anxiously pacing across their room, and he freezes as the door opens. He stays where he is, watching them, so Feral walks to him instead. Maul stays at the doorway. 

“I’ll return tomorrow. You’ll be expected to join, Apprentice. I hope your skills haven’t degraded too far over your absence.”

With that, he leaves.

Feral watches him go with mixed feelings. Savage grabs his shoulder and pulls him close, inspecting him for injuries. He finds the bruises and sore muscles, and he slowly relaxes when there’s nothing worse.

“You’re really alright?” Savage asks quietly.

“I am. You don’t have to worry so much,” Feral says, knowing Savage won’t change.

Feral is still feeling off-balance himself. His mind will tie himself in knots if he lets it, and Feral wants nothing more than to stop thinking for a while. They could both use a distraction. 

“Do you still have that decorating paint?” Feral asks. 

Savage nods and leans away, rifling through a bag until he emerges with the small jar. Feral tugs him towards a long couch along one side of the room.

“Sit,” Feral says, and he perches on the edge of the couch. 

Savage ducks down in front of him. There’s a few remaining traces of the old design, and Feral starts by rubbing his horns clean. He takes his time picking out a new design. They have time for something elaborate, and Savage deserve something gentle after the past week.

He picks one of their old Clan designs, set in a repeating spiral across his horns. Feral takes his time on the small, neat strokes, and he feels Savage relax as the pattern takes form.

Halfway through, Savage turns his head against Feral’s leg, and he sighs. Feral brushes his hand against Savage’s temple then keeps working on a cluster of lines that twists around Savage’s lower horns. 

“Please be careful,” Savage eventually says. “Maul is… ambitious. Being around him isn’t safe.” 

Feral’s fingers slow. His first impulse is to brush off the warning. Of course Maul is dangerous. He’s a Sith Lord and the strongest fighter Feral has ever known. Feral has seen the images of his work. He knows Maul is a killer.  

Except… last time, before Feral took Savage and ran, he hadn’t been involved. Maul certainly hadn’t paid him attention, and even Savage had been avoiding him. It’s different now.

Feral’s lightsaber hangs heavy on his waist. It’s a weapon meant to be used, and eventually he'll have to make a choice. 

Notes:

Well I'm officially sick of staring at this chapter. It feels a bit like filler, but we'll be moving back into the proper plot soon. Did I spend a solid month stuck on the Kast sparring scene for no good reason? Yes, yes I did. I spent a solid day looking up war scythes vs kamas vs similar weapons lol. Kast was originally going to trip him up with a whip but, alas, a second weapon got cut

Chapter 21: Revelations

It’s surprisingly easy to forget that Maul is a skilled warlord and the illegitimate ruler of an entire planet. There’s too much else to worry about. Training sessions and Mandalorians and the endless uncertainty about Feral’s place in Maul’s plans. It isn’t that he forgets about the rest of the galaxy. It just… doesn’t seem as important.

That changes when Maul summons them to the throne room. Technically, he only summons Savage, but of course Feral follows. Maul sprawls across his throne, and he lazily glances up as they enter.

“Apprentice; I have need of you. It seems there’s some rabble causing problems along one of my spaceports.”

Rabble. Does he mean criminals or off-worlders? Is Satine making her move? The Republic? Maul doesn’t elaborate, and Savage…

Savage bares his teeth in a hunter’s smile, all harsh edges and fierce excitement. Next to him, Feral feels very small.

“Brother?” Feral asks quietly, glancing between them.

Maul finally looks at him, but his expression doesn’t change.

“You’ll be staying behind, of course. At your current skill level, you’d only be a liability.”

Feral doesn’t say anything. He’s not sure how he feels. He knows the destruction his brothers leave behind, and chances are this “rabble” doesn’t deserve death.

Yet… if its a choice between his brothers and strangers, he knows which one he would choose.

“Stay safe,” Feral says, and he watches them go.

---

The palace should feel different with its Lord missing, but it doesn’t. The Mandalorians still move through the halls, carrying out their duties and keeping the planet running.

The normalcy grates on his nerves, and his empty quarters are even worse. Feral ends up wandering instead, and he finds an empty corner to brood in.

He’s not particularly good at brooding either, and it’s a relief when someone finds him. Good or bad, it’s at least a distraction. He recognizes Riye’s armor, though he isn’t sure how to feel about her.

“Ugh, there you are,” Riye says. “I was wondering where you’d disappeared to. Glad to see you’re not causing trouble, considering what happened last time. Out of all the people you could’ve freed, did it have to be the Duchess? She’s already being a pain in the ass.”

So it was Satine’s group causing trouble. Feral… isn’t sure how to feel about that. Her side is dangerous, but Feral won’t regret acting with the information he had. Satine had been his best chance at escape, and nobody deserved the death Maul had planned for her.

“Blame whoever put us in neighboring cells,” Feral says instead.

Riye groans. “Still, her? Don’t you know what she’s done?”

Feral rolls his eyes. “Obviously not. I’m from Dathomir; I’d never been near this sector before you guys kidnapped me.”

Riye waves him off and settles more comfortably next to him.

“Whatever. Since you’re here, you should at least know the basics.”

It’s a good idea, except Riye proceeds to tell him the most convoluted tangle of names and events that he’s ever heard. By the time Riye is called away, Feral’s head swims with Clans and grudges. Pacifists and warriors, betrayals and exile. He doesn’t understand half of it, and Riye’s account is clearly biased. It’s a place to start, at least.

---

Feral feels when his brothers return. Maul and Savage burn like stars in the Force, and Feral tracks them to an unassuming space in the lower levels of the building.

Neither Maul nor Savage contacted him about their return, but Feral doesn’t hesitate as he enters. It looks like an old, unused storage room. Empty shelves. Scattered crates and drawers; plenty of hiding spots. Savage and Maul are along the back wall, sitting on some overturned crates. Savage looks up as Feral enters; Maul doesn’t bother.

There’s blood staining the side of Savage’s arm.

“What happened?” Feral asks, rushing closer. The blood comes from a deep cut in his brother’s arm. The bleeding seems to have stopped, but the edges of the wound gape open.

“Lucky shot,” Savage says.

He has a few other scrapes and bruises, but nothing serious. Maul, of course, looks entirely untouched as he rifles through a medkit. Feral realized with a start that Maul means to treat the cut himself.

Mandalore isn’t like Dathomir. They have a fully functional medical facility nearby, filled with trained healers and medical droids, but Maul doesn’t summon them. Instead, he cleans the wound himself and pulls a needle from the kit.

Savage doesn't flinch as Maul sutures the wound closed. Maul's movements are smooth and steady, as if he’s done this a hundred times before.

Feral stands behind them, feeling very unnecessary. Unwelcome, even. There’s no chair for him to sit, not even another crate to drag over. He hesitates, unsure what to do.

Then he takes a breath and reminds himself how he’s survived much worse than awkwardness. If there’s no obvious place for him, then he’ll make one. His brothers are here, and Feral has no intention of leaving.

Sitting, Savage is about the same height as Feral, though he's significantly broader. Feral leans against Savage's back, and his brother easily takes his weight. Savage gently knocks their horns together, and Feral rests his chin along Savage's shoulder. It's a bit like leaning against a warm, breathing wall.

Maul finishes quickly. There's blood on his fingers as he pulls away. When Feral looks up, Maul is staring at him.

"I expect you in the training room this evening," he says, and he sweeps away without waiting for a response.

Feral tightens his grip on Savage and watches Maul leave. He doesn't move, and Savage doesn't shake him off.

He hadn’t expected the almost gentle way Maul handled Savage's injury. The easy trust Savage had shown as he let Maul work. Normally, Savage doesn’t like being touched. Feral is the exception, and that’s only because they’re kin. Except… Maul is their brother too. This shouldn't feel odd.

“Hey, Savage? What does Maul do when he’s hurt?” Feral asks.

To his shame, Feral has never considered Maul getting injured. He always seems so powerful. Untouchable. His skill with the medkit suggested otherwise.

“Maul takes care of it himself,” Savage says

Of course he does. Maul would never allow himself to appear vulnerable. But Maul is a person too. He’s Feral’s brother, and Feral knows almost nothing about him.

“Tell me about him. The good parts,” Feral says.

Savage’s shoulders stiffen, but with a little more coaxing he starts to speak. Slowly, almost hesitantly, as if he isn’t quite sure the words will be welcome. Feral listens.

---

Savage loves Maul.

It shouldn’t be a surprise. Even before they left, Savage had called Maul brother. They’re Zabraks. Nightbrothers. Family means everything, and Savage has always been fiercely protective of anyone he cares about. Of course that includes Maul.

Feral forgets, sometimes, that Savage was the one who found Maul, back before Mother Talzin deigned tell him Feral had survived. Feral had only met Maul a handful of times, but Savage spent months training and traveling with him.

“Do you like it here? Fighting at Maul’s side?” Feral asks.

Savage… hesitates. Feral’s hearts sink.

“Tell me the truth,” Feral orders, and he puts steel into the words.

Savage might be bigger and stronger than him, but he’s still Feral’s little brother. He grimaces and sinks down, but he obeys.

“I worried about him while we were at Valdoria. Maul is strong, but his ambition can make him careless. He needs strong allies at his back.”

And Savage was the best ally that Maul could have. Of course Savage wouldn’t trust anyone else with his brothers’ safety. And… he wasn’t like Feral. Maul’s plots and the murders don’t bother him the same way. He’d been happy at Maul’s side.

And Feral took that away from him.

“I’m sorry,” Feral says. “When I asked you to leave, I wasn’t thinking about Maul. I made you choose between us, and I didn’t even realize I was doing it.”

Feral is still leaning against his brother, and he feels Savage stiffen. His voice is rough when he speaks.

“Don’t apologize. You had every right to ask,” he says, and Feral knows he’s remembering poisonous green magic and the snap of Feral’s neck in his hand.

Feral tightens his grip around Savage’s shoulders and wishes he knew how to fix this.

Despite the guilt, Feral doesn’t regret how things turned out. Before they left, Maul hadn’t spared him a thought, and Savage was too buried in guilt to look at him. Feral had been heartsick and miserable, and nothing would have changed if they’d stayed.

He wouldn’t give up their time on Valdoria for anything. All the ways he got Savage back. The people he helped during the invasion.

Fives and Echo.

Things are different now. He’s stronger than before, and he doesn’t want his brother to choose him out of guilt.

He keeps thinking about Kast’s accusation too. How he was disloyal, and they’d abandoned their brother. Clearly, Maul has done well for himself without them, but…

Feral hadn’t exactly tried, had he? He’d held onto Savage desperately and rebuilt their relationship piece by broken piece, but he barely spoke with Maul before their escape.

Maybe this time can be different. Feral is under no illusions about the kind of person his older brother is. He’s only here because Maul kidnapped him, and he hasn’t forgotten the other reasons he left. Feral has always been stubborn, though. If there’s a chance he can keep both his brothers, then he has to take it.

---

Feral allows himself a day to think. He knows better than to speak with Maul unprepared, and he needs to sort through his emotions.

He eats meals with his brother and goes to Maul’s training session. Riye challenges him to another spar and ends with a history lesson that leaves him equally confused afterwards.

That night, he rebandages Savage’s arm and adjusts the paint on his horns. Savage doesn’t mention the mission, and Feral doesn’t ask for details. After Savage falls asleep, Feral slips out of their quarters without waking him. It’s still strange to walk the halls alone, but nobody stops him.

As always, Maul is easy to find in the Force. His presence burns, and Feral follows the feeling to the ornate door of a strategy room. Maul is alone. It’s as good an opportunity as he’ll get.

Still, Feral hesitates. This isn’t a conversation he wants to have. He can’t avoid it though. Not if he wants to call himself Maul’s brother and have it mean anything at all.

So, he knocks. Enters. Maul is sprawled at the head of the table, surrounded by datapads. One datapad hangs carelessly in his hand, but Maul’s full attention is on Feral as he enters.

“Feral,” Maul purrs. “What a surprise; you so rarely seek me out.”

It’s meant as an insult. Knowing Maul, it’s a slight about cowardice, but it hits harder. Maul is right; Feral has never intentionally spent time with him, and he knows almost nothing about his older brother.

“It’s time we talked,” Feral says quietly.

He’s considered a dozen ways to start this conversation. Standing here, as Maul watches him with a predator’s patience, they all seem woefully insufficient.

“Do you know why I left?” Feral finally asks.

“Presumably a misguided attempt to play at peace.”

Feral almost smiles. Maul sounds bored, but he isn’t wrong. Feral wants freedom and safety. He wants his brothers healthy and happy, and he doesn’t share their desire for power.

That’s not what he came to talk about, though.

“I heard about what you and Savage did on Raydonia. I did quite a lot of research, actually. About the war and your allies. And I couldn’t- I can’t be part of that. But you’re my brother, and I won’t do anything that could hurt you. So I left.”

“Coward.”

Feral flinches away, but he doesn’t deny it. He took Savage, and he ran. Maybe that was a coward’s choice, but he doesn’t regret it.

“I’m back now. I don’t want to be constantly trying to escape or fighting against you. So I’m here to negotiate.”

Maul tilts his head and sets down his datapad.

“I’m listening.”

“You clearly want me and Savage by your side. You put a great deal of resources into tracking us down and training us, and I…”

Feral takes a deep breath. It’s harder than it should be; Maul’s undivided attention has an almost suffocating weight, and it’s hard to control his emotions. He cares about this with an intensity that’s physically painful.

“You’re my kin. I’d sacrifice a lot to stay beside my brothers—both of you—but I have limits. I don’t like seeing innocent people getting hurt, and I won’t stand aside if you go too far. No more massacres. No pointless cruelty. I can be practical, but I need something.”

It didn’t need to be much. Politics were dangerous, especially on a planet like this, and Maul was cultivating a criminal empire. Feral understands war and necessity. He's a fighter too, but he won’t be a mindless tool.

“So demanding,” Maul says. “Do you truly believe I'll capitulate so easily?”

There’s an edge to his words, sharp enough to cut. Feral picks his words carefully.

“Not demands. I’m trying to be honest with you. This is what my loyalty would cost.”

“Soft,” Maul says, turning the word into an insult. “With enough pressure, I could fix that.”

Feral shrugs. “You could try,” he says. “I was raised on Dathomir. The Witches had years to break me, and they didn’t succeed.”

He isn’t naive. He’s a Nightbrother, with all that entails. He wouldn’t break easily. It would be different if it was his kin hurting him instead of a Sister, but…

Well. He’s already escaped once. He’s confident he could do it again, especially with Savage’s help.

Maul is quiet for several moments, and Feral feels distinctly like he's been splayed open. Feral doesn't let himself flinch away from Maul's inspection. Finally, Maul blinks, and the moment breaks.

“I am not a good person,” Maul says.

“I know. I don’t need you to be good, just… better than the alternative.”

Maul is ruthless, but he’s equally practical. He’ll need stability, not just strength, to maintain his rule. And… maybe he cares enough about his kin to soften his plans, at least a bit.

Maul laughs. The sound is startling enough that Feral jumps. He stands and stalks towards Feral. He stops close enough that Feral has to look up slightly to meet his eyes, but Feral doesn’t step back.

“Oh, little brother, you have no idea how low of a bar that is,” Maul says, and his amused tone sets off warning bells in Feral’s mind. “Better than the alternative— you mean the Black Sun? Death Watch? You should think bigger. The Republic, the Separatists, the entire war going on outside. But of course, you just told me how you lack ambition.”

Maul smiles, and Feral doesn’t dare to breath.

“You should know the stakes of the game you’ve stumbled your way into playing. Chancellor Palpatine is the Sith Lord, Darth Sidious. He and Dooku manufactured the war to enable the Sith’s rise to power. Your precious ‘alternatives’ are between supporting the Sith’s rise to unimaginable power or sitting back and watching the galaxy burn.”

Maul laughs again at whatever he finds on Feral’s face. “Is that a sufficient reason to support my cause?” he asks.

“Yes, I-” Feral chokes on the words, the sheer horror of what it all means. “The whole war? Everyone who-”

Maul doesn’t need to answer. The Force rings with the truth of his declaration, and Feral feels like he’s about to be sick.

Feral makes his excuses, and he leaves. His mind seems full of static, and he's in no condition to talk to anyone. He makes it back to their quarters, and he's relieved to find Savage waiting for him. He must've woken up while Feral was gone. Relief breaks over his face as Feral enters, though it quickly turns to concern.

"Feral, what's wrong?"

Feral shakes his head, unable to find the words to explain, and joins Savage on the couch. He leans against his brother and relaxes when Savage pulls him close and strokes along his horns. His sleep that night is restless and unpleasant, full of dreams of shadows and bloody battlefields, and he gives up halfway through the night. Savage doesn't leave his side.