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Marr studied the form floating peacefully in a tank of kolto. It was due to be flushed soon, to aid the young Sith’s recovery. Support armor and a rebreather were being prepared for the boy, to keep him alive if the worst should happen. The kolto was specially enriched – or the Selonians in charge of keeping this Sith alive would have paid dearly for their failure – to enhance healing and promote recovery, but the Force worked how it willed, and it was not always so kind to its youngest sons. He tipped his head to the side, studying the younger Sith.
Malgus was an interesting specimen. A great tactical mind, the gregariousness of a Sith devoted to his own passions, and the drive to succeed in spite of the galaxy. He would have been perfect.
Could have been.
Marr placed his hand on the kolto tank, pushing a pulse of Dark into the kolto to give Malgus a small boost of energy. Despite the Jedi whining, kolto remained neutral no matter what side of the Force was applied. And besides, Sith – even quarter-breeds like Malgus – were symbiotic with the Dark. Using the Light on him would be torture that even he didn’t deserve.
The little twi’lek hussy Malgus kept around as a boyhood amusement long past the time for such indulgences hissed from her spot on the floor next to the tank, but made no move to stop him or remove him from her master’s presence. Marr was honestly surprised the little chit had learned. It’d only taken a few dozen applications of Force lightning to get her to obey. (Malgus had, as usual, ignored his elders and had never bothered to collar his twi’lek. He let it talk back, for Force’s sake. Marr would have understood if the twi’lek were at least Force-sensitive, but the little thing had the sensitivity of a brick.)
He sighed, rebreather humming in protest but adjusting a moment later.
Malgus was such a stubborn child. Always so determined to prove he was right, that he was strong enough to stand on his own. Marr had never had children – apprentices didn’t count, despite what some people thought, Vowrawn – but he rather imagined he could have sired a boy like Malgus. Willful, stubborn, willing to fight for what he wanted. Marr, of course, would never have let his son be such a damn fool, though. He’d have enforced some common sense in any child he sired, and he definitely would have impressed on him the need to kill his opponents over playing with his food. As it was, Marr was now in the position of waiting for the brat to be freed from his tank while it was flushed and refilled with more enriched kolto.
Marr was going to impress upon him the severity of his stupidity or one of them would die in the attempt. Hopefully before Malgus realized he could just run off and start some more juvenile shit somewhere else, like Mandalore. (It would be so tempting to toss some Force suppressors into his kolto and then have him shipped somewhere else care of that red-headed Mandalorian he was so fond of, but Marr wasn’t that petty. Yet.)
“Out,” he barked, not looking at the twi’lek still seated on the ground. “I do not intend to kill your master today,” he added, a little more kindly. “What we are to discuss is only for Sith.”
The twi’lek gave him a look the clearly said she didn't believe him and that she was going to try to murder him later. He’d have the slughtrowers counted and locked up, just in case. Malgus would have a tantrum if his favorite pet died while he was indisposed, and Marr had no desire to listen to him have a fit in public.
Malgus was lifted from the tank several minutes later by the med droids and deposited in a limp heap on the nearby medbed, head lolling against the pillows as he dripped precious kolto onto the sterile sheets. His eyes were moving under his eyelids – dreaming, perhaps. Fighting the sedatives, more likely. No Sith would willingly allow themselves to be vulnerable like this. Malgus had been recovered from the battlefield on Marr’s orders and sedated so heavily even a planet-killer couldn’t have woken him.
Marr stopped at the edge of the bed, staring down at Malgus’ limp form, and reached out to touch the ruined flesh covering the younger Sith’s jaw. Malgus shifted in his drugged sleep, leaning into the touch with the faintest of sighs. Dreaming, then. Marr let the Force curl around his hand and ran his fingers along the the remnants of skin and jaw – so little left unblemished of such a handsome face – pushing the Dark into each bit that remained. Malgus relaxed, body accepting the aid his mind would have him deny.
Five broken ribs, two more pulverized so completely by the Jedi witch that they’d been replaced by surgical durasteel. Collarbone shattered and fixed in place with two-hundred and thirty-seven durasteel pins. Left shoulder and shoulderblade crushed. Shoulderblade broken into six pieces. Currently held in place with the Force and a prayer, although the kolto should have fixed it by now. Phantom pains would likely continue long after the kolto finished repairing everything. Marr’s hand moved to Malgus’ neck. Two vertebrae broken, dangerously close to the base of his skull. Temporary cybernetic repairs, pending installation of more advanced cybernetics to protect the neck, skull, and spinal cord. Jaw, broken in six places. Muscle, skin, and nerves sheered away by the Force-storm. The scarring would never leave, and reconstruction was unlikely.
“It is a very good thing you were not vain,” Marr said, brushing his fingers over the other Sith’s eyebrow, before pressing his palm into the side of Malgus’ face, imagining he could feel the warmth of the other’s skin through his glove. “But at least you will not be in a suit like mine, child.”
“-two y’rs older ‘n you,” Malgus breathed out, words slurred from the sedatives and the kolto. “Still ‘live?” he added. Marr hummed thoughtfully, knowing Malgus was asking after him, rather than his own condition. Living with Mandalorians had ruined him. Perhaps Marr just ought to flex his muscle as a Councilor and keep the boy with him until he forgot all those foreign notions and remembered he was Sith.
“I am whole,” he finally agreed, settling onto the edge of the medbed, which groaned under the added weight until the repulsorlifts kicked in to keep the bed up and at the correct angle. “You were lucky. The witch almost killed you.”
“Old fool,” Malgus grumbled in reply, eyes flickering open briefly. His Force presence, still murky from drugs, tinged briefly with a burst of affection before fading again. Marr almost huffed in annoyance at the softness Malgus showed. “Y’ sent ‘leena ‘way?” he asked, sounding lost and sad. Marr really did huff in annoyance at the reminder. “She’s not y’r competition, old fool,” Malgus sighed.
“She is a childhood toy you should have put away a long time ago,” Marr retorted without much heat. They’d had the argument too many times for there to be any real bite to it. Malgus huffed out a soft laugh, a brief wince flashing over the remains of his face. The sedatives were wearing off. He was starting to feel again. He sighed and pressed his mask to Malgus’ forehead, opening his Force presence to the other Sith.
Worry-safe-relief-possession-mine-protection-relief-relief-relief.
Malgus relaxed under his hand, and then reached up to grab clumsily at Marr’s hand. “Off,” he grunted, fingers scrabbling at the fitted leatheris of Marr’s support suit and the bands holding it in place. “Mine.”
Marr pulled his glove off and Malgus immediately clasped his bare fingers, pale skin a stark contrast to the ashen-brown of Marr’s own.
“Yours,” he agreed, pressing his mask back into Malgus’ forehead. “Do not worry me again, Veradun, or I’ll throw you into a mountain myself.”
Malgus growled weakly at the use of his birth name, but nothing else. “Old fool,” he growled. He didn’t let go of Marr’s hand until the droids returned and sedated him for a return to his kolto tank, refilled with renewed kolto. Marr stayed until the vital signs monitor turned on, hand pressed to the glass shell over the other Sith’s hand.
“Rest well, young lord,” Marr said softly, and pressed his mask to the kolto tank again. “You are mine, and no one else’s.”
Marr had Malgus’ kolto tank – and his twi’lek – transferred to his flagship a day later. And if anyone on his flagship knew Marr had taken to sleeping on a medbed next to Malgus’ kolto tank, they wisely kept their mouths shut.