Chapter Text

Adikk be Jetiise Keldab Aran’e

Child of the Jedi Temple Guards

Chapter One: Mandos

7927.24/25.5 CRC

Feemor stood still, the weight of the still new guard armor still felt heavy on his shoulders. Jaa stood next to him on the other side of the entrance. They were at entrance 53-7, a small entrance to the temple near the south eastern corner of the temple complex. This entrance was rarely used, mostly kept for the guard or a few masters and knights who needed to enter and exit the temple more discreetly. However,since it was still a visible entrance the guard still had to be posted.  Jaa Nol, a middle aged Kiffar male with green qukuuf on his cheeks, was helping him with acclimating to the guard. In many ways he was grateful to his former grandmaster’s strict nature, because it made it far easier to get used to standing upright for hours at a time. Jaa was still surprised that Feemornever complained about the work of a guard. 

“Fee, I’m going to have you fill out tonight’s report. Best way to get used to writing them up is to do it yourself.” Jaa’s voice came crackling through their HUD internal speaker. Feemore glanced over at the man without turning his head.

“Anything important about the reports?” he asked.

“Nah, there’s an outline provided, just gotta follow it. Most of the time the reports are short, might just have to put, ‘no incidents to report’ or ‘patrol was uneventful’.”

“What if it isn’t uneventful?” Feemor asked, a small measure of anxiety slipping into the force. 

“Then report what you can. There will be a lot of ‘this knight guard’ followed by what actions were done or perceived. Don’t include personal thoughts or feelings, just actions and reason for action if needed.”

“Okay?”

“How about a try. If we were to intercept a padawan tonight, how would you write it in your report?”

“Ummm. This knight guard noticed the presence of another being. Upon inspection a padawan was seen attempting to sneak out of the temple past curfew hours. This knight guard approached and halted the padawan’s attempt. Padawan is ‘give name of padawan’ and was returned to their master ‘give master’s name’.”

“Good. catching padawans and younglings will probably be the most common action. When on guard at the main entrance there might be some more issues with outsiders but the most senior guard will be the one to report on any incidents there.”

Feemor hummed and sent an understanding feeling to Jaa. He felt the equivalent of a hand patting his shoulder in the force from his new mentor. The man would have been a great master if he ever decided to take on a padawan, even though he claimed that children scared him. 

He smiled to himself. He had seen it himself once, during his second week with the guard. Jaa was frozen still when a youngling plastered herself to his leg and stared at him all wide eyed. There was a ping on their inner HUD notification chat board, asking for someone to save him from the grabby hands of a youngling. 

There were a few returning messages from other guards ribbing him for his attitude to little ones. But, luckily, Cin turned the corner of the hallway and rescued him. The little one was all pouts and big tears to be taken away from her new friend. Several minutes later a new message popped up  on their chat board 

Don’t worry Nol, the scary little cuddle monster has been returned to the safe loving embrace of her creche master.

Jaa couldn’t live it down event to now. A few of the guards actually started sharing holos they took of their patrols in the creches asking which one was the cuddlemonster, and how they could get so lucky to get a little one to snag onto them. Each time Jaa would groan over the intercom and Feemor would snicker. 

A few hours into their quiet shift a notification popped up on his HUD with an alert chime.  

Battle Master Cin Drallig to guard detail

7923.24.8 2233hr

Notice

Be on the lookout for incoming Mandalorians. They are to be brought into the temple swiftly and silently. Whichever guard first encounters them are to escort them to room 218 in the guard quarters, and maintain a guard position outside the room until escorting them to a meeting with the high council at 0830 hr. Send notice when escorting the Mandalorians. 

“Well… this’ll be interesting.” Jaa commented after he read the notice. 

“So what do we do?” Feemor asked. 

“Did the dick ever just throw you into leadership?” Jaa asked. Feemor hummed in acknowledgement. The dick, as Jaa called him, would leave Feemor to flounder in the most stressful situations. His only saving grace was that his first dear master had taught him well. 

“Wonderful. You’re in charge, Fee. With the notification, what would you do?”

Feemor read the notification again, then looked at their entrance. He pulled out an unlit glow rod lit it, and set it at the entrance.

“Why?”

“They’re looking for a way in, and they need to move quickly. The glow rod will catch their attention and show not only the door but also that there are guards present at this location.”

“Good thinking. You’ll want to note this in your report, even if we don’t see anything. In the beginning of the report, the general information, there’s a section for additional notes. You can search the notice threads and attach the notices.” 

“Thanks, Jaa.”

“My pleasure kid.”

“I’m hardly a kid anymore.”

“No?” He could feel warm affection waft from Jaa, before a spike of mischief rose. “I mean with the way the troll treats you…”

Feemor winced. It was true. His lineage uncle… his former lineage uncle, Cin Drallig was… overbearing. Before he could even ask about joining the guard Cin all but kidnapped him and threw him into the guard rotation. It had all been quite jarring, but even if the others didn’t know, Cin would always make sure to stop by Feemor’s new room and make sure he was settling and not withdrawing. 

“Cin is overbearing. He’s just trying to make up for Qui.”

“I don’t think he wants you to leave your lineage.”

“Qui repudiated me.” Feemor snapped before falling quiet. The air suddenly felt heavy. He sighed “It doesn’t matter what anyone else wants. I don’t have a lineage, not anymore.”

Jaa didn’t say anything else, just stood quietly. A notification pingged on his HUD. In the silence and stillness of the night he quietly opened it. 

C:How’s things going Fee 

F:Did Jaa contact you

C:No… 

C: should he have?

F:No

C:Fee

F:It’s nothing

C:Not if you had that reaction. I felt like I had to reach out even though you're on duty.

F:Jaa and I were chatting. Our your lineage was brought up.

C:Qui can go kriff himself

C:I don’t give a kriff what my idiot nephew did. He doesn’t get to make stupid decisions and force the rest of us to fall in line. 

C:You are lineage. 

C:If Qui refuses to acknowledge you, Yan at least still calls you his grandpadawan. To me you are still my lineage brother’s grandpadawan. 

F:I can’t do this

C:Fee

F:Not right now, please. 

F:I need to focus. 

F:Something about Mandos??!

C:Fine

C:Don’t fret too much. They’ll be friendly.

F:Friendly mandos?

C:Yeah they’re bringing a youngling. I’ll tell you more when I can.

F:Special treatment?

C:Only for my lineage.

F:Cin… 

C:You’re stuck with me kiddo

F:Anyways… 

F:What should I do if they come here I got Jaa

C:HA! 

C:Record it .

Feemor closed the chat and went back to scanning the area. Things were tense, and quiet. He knew that Jaa was worried, but he truly did not want to deal with it right now. 

Then the force moved and shifted. He stretched out with the force. Three muffled presences and a little light moving towards them. 

“Jaa, movement.”

“I sense it too. Mark time.”

“2359 hours”

Feemore adjusted his view screen and noticed Mandalorians edging closer to the entrance. Two fully grown mandos, their beskar armor muffling them in the force. There was another fully armored mando with them, but they were smaller, looking more like a fresh padawan than an adult. One of the adults had some kind of cloth wrapped over his chest and shoulder, holding onto the little light, a toddler. The mandos’ heads snapped in their direction and immediately started running. The mando with the youngling had red and black on his armor, was pressing the short mando with green red and yellow armor to move ahead of them. The other mando, with green and blue, seemed to be acting as security, scanning the surroundings as they moved. 

“Shit, they’ve got a youngling.” Jaa squeaked, followed by a string of intelligible noises and curses that made Feemor snort. 

Feemor stepped to the side and palmed open the door. There was a muffled feeling of surprise in the force, but the mandos all slipped into the temple. Not even a second after they entered the youngling started wailing

“Oh force.” Jaa squeaked.

“I got it, scaredy tooka.” Fee chuckled and stepped into the temple behind the mandos. The mando with the youngling was cursing as he fought to get his helmet off. The small mando had started rubbing the youngling’s back, a strange crackling noise coming from the vocoder of the helmet. Eventually the mando managed to rip his helmet off and press his forehead to the youngling’s. It took a minute but the youngling eventually calmed down, his little hands grabbing at his exposed skin. The mando was broad, skin pale from years of wearing a suit of armor. His short black hair was disheveled, sticking out in all directions from his struggle to get the helmet off. But most of all his warm dark eyes were soft with affection and worry, the beginnings of wrinkles crinkled at the corners of his eyes. He looked to be close to his old master’s age, gray hairs just starting to lighten his hair at his temples. 

Feemor let them have their moment to calm, the small mando still rubbing the youngling’s back, only pausing when the one without the helmet grabbed him by the neck and pressed their foreheads together. The man breathed deeply for a moment before scooping his helmet off the ground and pulling it back on his head. Once done their T-visor turned towards Feemor who dipped his head and turned, leading them down the hall.

He looked at the time, eight minutes into the new day. 

He opened the notification board and sent out the message, making sure to copy Cin in on it

Escorting Mandalorians to their assigned room. Two adults, one adolescent estimated age 9-12, and one youngling, estimated age between 15 months to 30 months.

It was a quiet walk, one that would have him unnerved if he wasn’t so used to quiet walks with other guards. He wasn’t too surprised when they walked into the guard quarters that every member of the guard who was in the common spaces were wearing their full uniform. Heads turned as if in unison. 218 was simple to find, especially considering that Feemor’s own room was 220. He opened the door for them and the small mando stopped in front of him. 

“Booeer doesn’t speak basic fluently.” it was a young voice that came from the vocoder. 

‘Well that’s good to know’ he thought and tipped his head down in acknowledgement. The child’s t-visor just stared at him for a moment before looking at the room. 

“Is there any food we can give Beneekah?” he asked, pointing at the youngling. Feemor tipped his head in confirmation and the child went into the room. He waited a moment before pulling up a private chat.

F:La'men

L:… 

F:La'men

L:WHAT?

F:I’m at the room with the mandos

L:WHO THE KRIFF CARES

L:IM IN THE KITCHEN

F:The mandos got a youngling

L:AGAIN KITCHEN 

F:The cute little mando baby needs food

L:…

F:?

L:…

L: How cute?

F:Very, probably not even 2 yet.

L: ...

L:How many mandos?

F:2 adults, one padawan age, and the youngling

L:Fine I’ll be by in 5 minutes

L: I want holos

F:Thanks La'men, love you

L:Kriff you

L: Kid better be kriffing adorable

He snickered and waited. This would be an interesting shift. In the 5 minutes it took for La'men to bring food several of their compatriots would walk by, peering at the door in interest. He’d shoo them off quickly, but it didn’t stop out the curiosity. No matter what the rest of the temple thought, everyone in the guard seemed to be serious gossip mongers. La’men came by exactly 5 minutes from their text with a tray of food. It was mostly easy to eat fruits, already sliced for easy eating. There were some crackers and meats as well and bottled milk and waters. He shoved the tray into Feemor’s hands and walked away grumbling. 

Feemor shook his head and knocked on the door. The child answered, and he was definitely a child, now without the beskar armor or helmet. He was young, dark curly hair brushing his ears and falling into his shining golden hued eyes. He took the tray from Feemor and disappeared back into the room. 

The night was quiet. Feemor was bored. Deadly bored.He had sent the video of Jaa’s little freak out to Cin, who had laughed. It was nearing 0330 hours when the force seemed to shift and grow heavy. He frowned, his head turning. It felt… familiar, but he couldn’t place it. He felt it before, when he was a padawan…

A scream ripped through the air and he turned and burst into the room. 

How stupid

He knew the feeling. 

He had slept over at his grandmaster’s once, when Qui was on a solo mission. Master Sifo had also stayed over that night, they were all curled in the living room watching a holo and fell asleep there. Master Sifo had a vision. The force was heavy, like syrup, just like it was now. He rushed to the screaming youngling, completely ignoring the blasters pointed at him, and pressed a hand to the youngling’s head. 

The poor thing was terrified of something, and his shields were splintered nearly entirely. He remembered what master Yan had taught him that night. How to stretch his shields to protect another, ease their pain. The little one latched onto him in the force almost immediately, pressing his presence against him seeking comfort, nearly pulling him into the vision. Instead Feemor coaxed the force, gently guiding the little one from the vision. Once the child was fully awake and freed from the vision he stepped back, letting the adult mando that had carried him to swoop in and scoop the little one up.

“What did you do to Beneekah?” the child demanded. The mando snapped at the child whose jaw clicked shut. Feemor bowed and stepped out of the room, noticing that the one other mando still wore a helmet. 

Luckily the rest of the early morning was quiet and peaceful. Feemor had managed to slip into a light standing meditation, and when it was 0800 hours he knocked on the door again. This time all the mandos came out. Once more all of them wore their armor, and the youngling was in the fabric sling over the one. The cute little youngling, Beneekah was wide awake, looking around curiously and babbling happily. As they walked the child would ask a question in the language Feemor didn’t know and the little one would chirp an answer. Besides the children the walk was silent. He kept to the guard halls and passages, best way to keep them unseen by the majority of the temple. Finally they arrived at the high council. The padawan on duty allerted the council and the doors opened. Cin was already standing in the center of the room waiting. The child stiffened, but the mando with the youngling pressed a hand to his shoulder and they all walked in. 

His duty done, Feemor gave a heavy sigh and went to his room to fill out the report. Hopefully Cin would show him some mercy and check it for him later before he submitted it.

A chime next to his bead blared and woke him up from his nap with a groan. He turned over and grabbed the com. It took a moment of blinking to take in the light to read message

Battle Master Cin Drallig to Temple Guards

Date:7923.25.8 1233hr

Notice

I will be giving one Mandalorian adult, one mandalorian adolescent and one youngling around the common spaces of the temple. There will be an announcement tonight at 1830 hr before shift change. The Mandalorians will be given room 218 of the guard quarters as rooms to stay in when visiting the temple. Guards off duty do not need to maintain anonymity while in the guard common spaces. Further details will be given at 1830 hr. 

Feemor groaned and opened up his private messaging. 

F:Did you have to send the notice when you did

C:glad you’re awake

F:If I were more awake I’d hunt you down and strangle you

C:Now now anger leads to the dark side

F:I’m going back to bed.

C:sleep tight

Feemore rolled out of bed later that day, pulling on casual robes. He made his way over to the gathering hall. Several of the guard were already there, a strange mix of uniformed and non-uniformed. He moved through the crowd to make his way to the front. He had managed to spot Cin off on the side with the mandos and slid over to them. The mandos were wearing casual clothing, similar to what they wore that night. Feemor assumed that the mando with the green and blue had left, since he recognized the man as the same one who had torn his helmet off, and the child was noticeable. The youngling was sitting on the floor, leaning against the mando’s leg, almost sitting on his foot as he played some kind of block game with the other child who was sitting on the ground across from the youngling. He smiled down at them fondly. They were cute kids.

“Ah, Fee, good to see you awake.”

“Thanks for the wake up.” he deadpanned with a flat stare. 

“Let me introduce you.” He smiled, clasping a hand on Feemor’s shoulder. “This is Feemor Sthal, a member of my line and the guard that stood with you last night. Feemor, this is Mand’alor Jaster Mereel, and his children, Jango Fett and Ben’ayan Mereel.”

“Well met.” The Mand’alor said, pressing a fist to his chest. 

“It is a pleasure to meet you, formally.”

“cooee?” the youngling chirped, looking up.

“Soocooee, Ben.” Jango said, correcting the little one. 

“Soocooee.” Ben chirped, looking happy with a big smile. 

“Kandohsee” Jaster smiled and leaned down to ruffle the toddler’s hair. 

“Alright let’s get this over with. Fee, mind staying with the Mand’alor until I’m done?”

“Sure.” 

Cin moved towards the front of the room and within seconds the low murmur of the room fell silent.

“Alright, listen up! Things are going to be changing for a bit. The details aren’t to be shared outside the guard. We have been given a protection detail. This little one is Ben’ayan, he’ll be staying at the temple under the name Obi-Wan Kenobi. He’ll be learning and staying with the rest of the initiates, but we are to ensure his well being.” 

Feemor’s eyebrows knit together. The temple guard didn’t take protection details for dignitaries, they focused on the security and wellbeing of the temple itself and those within it. It would also be a first for a dignitary to live in the temple. Feemor felt the eyes drift over towards where he stood, and he knew the curiosity was the same as his. What was so special about this case. 

“In the meantime.” Cin continued, “Off shift guards will be permitted to little Keldabe. With the endorsement of Mand’alor Mereel, Ben’ayan’s father, and the goran of Coruscant, we will be allowed to learn from them and train in their fighting methods.”

Surprise shot through the force. Mandalorians were renowned for their fighting prowess, and their insular culture. You couldn’t learn from them without being one of them, and the section of little keldabe was practically forbidden for outsiders. He could feel Jaa poking at their bond like one would elbow a friend to speak up. He sighed and raised a hand

“Why does the youngling need protection?” Feemore spoke, not looking at the mandos next to him. 

“There’s been a number of attempts on his life already by a competing faction of Mandalorians. While that would normally be outside our purview, the youngling also has a weak tether due to his strong connection with the force.”

There were a few understanding nods and sympathetic glances cast to the youngling, Feemor himself winced. He had seen it before, those that just faded away, caught adrift in the waves of the force, leaving their bodies behind to stop functioning and eventually dying. And, if last night was any indication, the poor youngling had visions to boot. 

He glanced down at the little one and nodded. 

One youngling shouldn’t be too hard to keep safe. 

They would keep him safe.

Chapter Text

Chapter 2: 

7927.19.8 CRC

If there was one thing the guard was good at, it was putting off the calm unfeeling aura. There was a reason no one really knew the guards weren’t just statues or some kind of droid. But at the moment it was really hard to not send out the panic they were all feeling into the force. Their cute Ben’ika had been with them for 3 months and the little one had already become a mascot. Ben’ika’s holos were posted on their chat boards, mostly by those on duty by the creche. Which was why they were panicking silently. There were always eyes on Ben. Always. So when no one could spot the little redhead a notice went out to the guards nearby. An hour later, a notice went out to all the guard, on duty or otherwise. 

Several of the guard who were off duty and in Keldab’ika (as they were told to call it) were searching the neighborhood discreetly, the last thing they needed was for one of the mandos to tell Mereel they lost his son. Every guard was on high alert in the temple, searching for a single youngling. Cin was just about ready to tear his hair out. 

He pulled out his com and sent out a message to the guard

Cin: Alright, sound off. Anyone find our youngling?

It didn’t even take a second for responses to start coming through. 

The guard quarters were clear, as were the kitchens, both the temple refractory and the one the guards used. No one in the lower levels noticed any signs of a youngling or anyone else (as it should be). Those posted at entrances hadn’t seen hide nor hair of their little mascot. Room of 1000 fountains were clear, luckily, because they weren’t sure if Ben knew how to swim or not (Cin added a note to ask Jaster). There was no sign of him in the hangar. To their relief they hadn’t seen him in the healing halls either. No one had spotted him in the salles. 

If they couldn’t find the child in another hour he’d have to alert the high council… and Jaster. A new message came through that had him cursing his luck. 

Tar’la: So…

Tar’la: The Mandalor and Ad’alor are here, they want to see Ben. 

Cin: Keep them distracted as long as possible. If we can’t find him in the next half hour we’ll have to inform them.

Feemor: No need.

Feemor: Found him…

Cin: Thank the force!

Feemor: I could use a hand

Lon: Why???

Feemor: My feet are currently being used as a mattress 

Feemor: I’m scared to move him

Cin looked at his notes and saw that Feemor was stationed in the archives. He turned heel and went to the guard quarters to grab Ben’s family. It was fortuitous that Feemor was in the archives, Jaster had been hounding him to get access almost since the boy was brought to them. 

Jaster and Jango were near the entrance to the guard quarters in casual clothes and a poncho draped over their shoulders. Jango had a string of beads clipped into his hair to act as a padawan braid. It was what they had agreed would be their cover. Jaster would act as a watchman in the mandalorian sector, and Jango would be his padawan. They were the ‘finders’ of little ‘Obi-Wan’ and would often visit the child whenever they could. They were currently debating which of them would be Obi-wan’s master when the time came. 

At the moment though, Jango was very good at putting on the surly teenager, glowering and grumpy as they followed Cin to the archives. Jaster had one arm over his elder son’s shoulder speaking to him in mando’a with a smile. The boy was huffing and rolling his eyes. 

“Good to see you. He’s in the archives at the moment, so I’ll bring you to him.”

“Archives?” Jaster brightened and Jango let out a loud groan. They walked and chatted while Cin felt his com blowing up. 

“You seem… Cyare?” Jaster ventured eyebrow raised as he pointed at his com. The man was learning basic with fervor, though he was still struggling with some phrases and words. Jango choked slightly his face darkening as he gaped at his father.

“Cyare? Buir, Popular. Popular. Cyare, ew.” Jango moaned covering his face. Cin glanced between them with amusement. He wasn’t quite sure what the other word meant but obviously being called Cyare was not something jango liked hearing

“Gar serim. Popular. You seem popular.”

“Ah, the temple guard have a chat board. You son had a bit of an adventure today and they are…” He looked down at his com with a roll of his eyes. It was a string of demands to see holos of the little one. Feemor appeared to be ignoring them, waiting patiently for Cin to arrive and help him. 

“The guard are currently trying to get the one with him to send holos. Your son is very popular with them.”

“Is he? That is good to hear. I always thought he was very copikla, hearing others think the same… makes me happy.” Jaster said grinning. The com pinged again with a notice he had been tagged a message. He looked at his com and snorted.

Worron: @CIN MAKE HIM SEND US A HOLO OF OUR YOUNGLING

Cin: Worron, you lost him to begin with

Cin: So No

Then his com pinged a private message from Feemor. It was a holo shot from his mask, looking down at Little Ben curled up on his feet, one arm wrapped around his ankle and his little teeth latched onto the thick leather of his boots, fast asleep. He smiled and sent a message back

C:Don’t send this to anyone else. 

F: Never

C: I’m on my way to free your boot from sharp little teeth, just hang tight.

F: Take your time, it’s quiet here today

F: Dragon is protecting her hoard today

Cin snorted again and showed the holo to the mandos with him. If Jocasta was in the archives today he had little doubt that Feemor was probably bored out of his mind. Most of the time a guard wasn’t needed in the archive, more of a deterrent for any extreme behavior, Jocasta was the real guard. She’d send a daily list of individuals currently banned from her archive, not that any of them were truly going to test the dragon .  The mandos were cooing over how cute Ben was. He was  2 levels down from the archive but now he could relax a bit. He breathed deeply, releasing his anxiety into the force and centering himself. He still needed to ask if Ben knew how to swim. Then his com pinged a private message again. 

He frowned and pulled it out. 

F: HELP

C: What is it?

F: He knows I’m here! 

Cin cursed and started to move with a bit more urgency. 

“I need to rescue the aran with Ben,” He told Jaster just before he started to break into a jog.

He had kidnapped Feemor two weeks after Qui repudiated him, and threw him into the guard in an effort to keep him in their lineage. Since then he had been playing interference, without Fee knowing. He gave Fee posts that would keep him away from places where Qui would wander to. Moving patrols, positions in areas off limits or unknown to the majority of the temple. The only reason Feemor got the archive today was because Jocasta had placed Qui on the banned list just the day before because he was ‘desecrating her sacred space with his attitude’. He pulled up the guard notice board and sent out a new message on priority.

Cin: Nearest guard to the archives, head there immediately to take over post there. 

JJaa: What’s happening?

Cin: Lineage issue

Worron: Kriff.

A minute later he was sliding into the archives with all haste just as a yelp was heard echoing in the quiet. A few yards away was Feemor, in full guard uniform, holding onto Ben who was latched onto Qui-Gon’s arm by the teeth. He could hear the muffled growling from where he stood and tried not to snort a laugh. Jocasta was standing off to the side, hands on her hips glaring. 

“There you are!” He called loudly, silently apologizing to Jocasta. “And you found our missing initiate. Hello there little one, have you been getting into trouble?”

“This initiate attacked me.” Qui-Gon said as he tried to free his arm. 

“Careful now, if you want free you’re going to have to wait for him to let go if you still want that arm.” Cin warned as he approached. He stopped just next to Qui and leaned down, booping the youngling on the nose. Big eyes flicked up to him before looking back to and growling at the offending arm. Jaster stood back, watching silently, allowing Cin to handle the situation. Cin sighed and leaned down fully so that he was level with the little one’s face.

“I’m sure this master doesn’t taste good, why don’t you release him?” he coaxed and the little one growled in return. 

Two weeks into little Ben’s stay with them the guard learned an important fact that Jaster had forgotten to mention. His mother was part Stewjoni. 

Naturally there had been signs… signs they had over looked. They didn’t quite notice how his eyes had turned from a clear blue to a stormy gray, or even a foggy purple. They had noticed when the little one started biting, and biting hard. Their own records were incomplete on the isolated Stewjoni people, so they had reached out to the boy’s father who grimaced. Unfortunately for them, or perhaps fortunately, one of the ways to get the boy to release his catch was by displays of dominance. They had yet to find a good way to get the little biter to release his catches without having to bribe him with something else. Most of the Jedi were unwilling to growl and snap at a youngling. Jaster, however, wasn't above it. 

The Mand’alor stepped forward and into the line of sight. Qui hissed as it seemed like Ben bit down harder. Cin stepped back, letting Jaster get closer. The man stepped up right next to Qui and leaned down. His lips pulled back to bear his teeth and he growled low in his chest. Ben tried to growl back, but once Jaster repeated it the babe’s eyes went watery and his jaw slack as he let out a wail. Jaster moved in, scooping the youngling from Feemor’s arms. Cin grabbed Qui’s arm looking at it before shaking his head. Ben’s little razor baby teeth broke clear through the skin and left deep impressions. 

“Best get it checked at the healers. He’s too young for venom, but there still could be bacteria and he got you good.”

“What kind of feral creature has the temple allowed in?” He sneered.

“The little one’s part Stewjoni, he’s no more feral than any Togruta youngling.”

“He bit me.”

“I suggest you keep your hands to yourself in the future.” As if to prove a point Ben growled at Qui before nuzzling into his father, who looked down at Ben with a mix of disappointment and tired acceptance. 

“Eparavur takisit.” The man ordered. “Jii”

Ben leaned in Jaster’s arms to lean closer to Qui, who moved out of biting range. Jaster shifted and before Qui could react dumped the youngling into his arms. Small arms wrapped around his neck and tiny hands tangled into his long hair. 

“Sowwy I bite you.” Ben said as he hugged the stunned master. Then, just as quickly, Jaster took the youngling back and rubbed his back to soothe him. 

“You scared him.” Jango said, staring hard at Qui. 

“I never-”

“He was comfortable with the guard, and you approached with aggression. You need to be gentle around younglings. Of course he bit you, I would have too”

Cin sighed in relief just as Jaa stepped in. He made a hand motion instructing Feemor to switch shifts and turned to Qui-Gon

“Come along nephew, lets get you to the healers.” He ordered, a hand on Qui’s shoulder and forcefully moved him from the archive, leaving Jaster with the children. Things would be fine… Maybe

Chapter Text

Chapter 3:

7930.6.6

Their little Obi-Wan was a kriffing menace. He was loved in spite of that… and sometimes because of that, but it didn’t make it any less true. Apparently a lot of his actions and reactions that made him seem like a feral tooka was all the norm for Mandalorians. In fact, it was all too clear that Jaster was encouraging most of the behaviors, and Jango took part in teaching Obi-Wan many of those feral behaviors. The older he got the more apparent it became. Because even if the little shit could act all cute and polite, it didn’t mean he was innocent. The kid had everyone fooled, at least almost everyone, everyone except the guard, who saw him for exactly who he was.

He was gentle and sweet in the creche. He was polite and attentive in lessons. He was bitey and aggressive in the guard quarters. The little menace seemed to come out of the shadows, sometimes even dropping down on a guard. Half of the guard were on edge waiting for the little one to make them his new chew toy, the other half were making bets of the kriffing game the shit was playing. Cin felt terrible he had to try to put a stop to it, after all he was earning so many credits from the betting pool that the others were starting to think he was setting the little biter on them, but he had to do something. 

Jaster had come and had to sit down with his child and explain that, no, he couldn’t just bite people. Biting was mean and he had to be careful who he bit because it hurt. He should only bite someone if he was in real life threatening danger. Jango, his feral older brother was the little shit who not so helpfully added that it was fine to bite someone if they were being creepy or were demagolka. 

Which then led the youngling to parroting that wonderful phrase with innocence written on his face and glee in his eyes.

The… pouncing, was addressed next. Jaster had sat his child down on a plush sofa, and wrestled his eldest in the spot next to the youngling. He then sat down in front of the two of them, face solom, air heavy with the weight of what he was about to tell them. 

“What are the tennents?” He asked them. 

“Ba’jur bal beskar’gam. Ara’nov, aliit, Mando’a bal Mand’alor- An vencuyan mhi.” Obi-Wan sang softly, Jango nodding approvingly next to him. 

“Elek. Ori’jate. Are you practicing self defense, Ben’ika?” He asked. Obi-Wan’s cheeks puffed out and eyes dropped to his lap. 

“Jan’ika, ara’nov?

“All mando’ade have a right to practice, teach, and act in self-defense. This does not condone mindless violence. Mando’ade must be focused on those who would attack them, not those who  could have been allies.” Jango said softly, as if he had read it from a text and been forced to commit it to memory. 

“We do not attack allies mindlessly, Ben’ika. We do not seek active harm to the community we are a part of.”

“Elek Buir.”

“If someone kept popping up and hitting you how would you feel?”

“Angry… scared.”

“Are you not doing that to the aran’e? Hmm? You are much smaller than they are, and they are working hard to honor their people here. They work to better their clan, and protect them, but you keep appearing, hurting them, and distracting them from their bora.” Jaster said gently. He tilted his head, eyes searching for his child’s. Eventually his gray eyes welled with tears and he nodded. 

“What are we without honor, ad’ika?”

“Naasaade.”

“Honor is life, Ben’ika. Without it we would be nothing. I know you want to play, but you must still act with honor.”

“Elek, Buir.”

“Jan’ika?”

“‘Lek Buir.”

“Jate.”

Jaster leaned forward and pressed his forehead first to Jango, who sighed and murmered something softly to his father. Then when he shifted to press his forehead to Obi-Wan, the youngling eagerly rushed forward, his head cracking against his father who winced. 

“Pel, Ben’ika. Mirshmure'cya, not kov’nynir.”

“Sowwy, Buir.” Obi-Wan said and gently pressed his forehead to his father. 

“Now, go apologize to the aran’e and aran’alor.” He ordered and Ben stood up. The little tooka went up to each nearby guard, head bowed and gave a very sincere, 

“Sowwy I bited you and… and pounced you.”

Some of the guards knelt down and accepted his apology with a hug or a ruffle of his soft fluffy hair, others simply bowed back in returned and thanked him for his apology. Then he went up to Cin, and tugged softly on his tabard while staring at his boots. Cin sighed and knelt down to be level with the child. 

“Yes, Obi-Wan?”

“I’m sowwy I make trouble.”

“Thank you.” he paused and looked at him assessing. “How about we find a more productive way for you to play with the aran’e?”

Obi-Wan’s head snapped up and his red-rimmed eyes brightened. His presence in the force went all bubbly with excitement and eagerness. 

Then it all shifted. 

If he was asked, he wouldn’t be able to tell how he knew it, if it was a twitch on Obi-Wan’s face or if the force blared a warning, but he caught the child just before he dropped. The force went tight and heavy as every voice in the common space went silent and worry permeated the air. He shifted to sit on the ground, Obi-Wan cradled in his arms. He opened his mouth, about to call for Feemor when he came sliding up to them. Before he could say anything he felt Feemor’s shields stretch out and encompass the child, helping him sure up his own natural shielding. Cin, in turn held firm on their bond in the force, keeping his nephew in the ‘here and now’. 

It could have taken minutes, or hours, but eventually Obi-Wan’s eyes cracked open and he started crying hard. He rolled in Cin’s arms crying out for his father.  Cin and Feemor shifted, as Jaster swooped in, scooping his now sobbing son into his arms. He sobbed in their native language, words too jumbled for him to try to understand. Jaster’s brows knitted in concern as he held his son closely to him, whispering words of comfort and assurance. They shared a look over the youngling’s head and Cin mouthed “vision” which made the man frown deepened but he pressed his face to the soft fluff of Obi-Wan red hair. 

Cin flashed a hand sign to the lingering guards, telling them to go back to their business. 

Hours later Cin got a private message from Feemor with a holo attached. 

The Mand’alor was sprawled out on one of the plush couches fast asleep. One arm was wrapped around Jango, holding him close. Jango was squished between his father and the back of the couch on his side, face buried in his father’s shoulder, and one hand holding his little brother’s. Said little brother was sprawled on his father’s chest, his little face pressed into the space between his chin and collarbone. All three were dead to the world and entirely peaceful, though by the dark stains on Jaster’s tunic spoke of many, many tears. 

Cin saved the holo and sent it to a shared file, a small smile on his face. 

7930.18.10

Ben was very good at sneaking. He loved sneaking. He had to sneak a lot to play with the aran’e. When the aran’e were wearing their masks they didn’t play or speak, but that was okay. Master Drallig said he wasn’t supposed to be able to tell them apart, but that was stupid. They were themselves, not droids, no matter what Bruck said. But he was good, and never called the aran’e by name when they wore the masks.

Aran kakovidir was his favorite to play with when he was on duty. Mostly because he knew he wanted to kakovidir. Any aran nearby would feel like they were trying not to laugh, which made it more fun. 

Master Drallig would always come and ruin the fun though. Which was mean because he wasn’t even allowed to bite anymore. So instead of biting, Master Drallig gave him another option. And it was so much more fun. 

So Ben was sneaking, his pocket filled with little red magnets that would stick to the aran’e’s armor. If he could stick one on one of the Aran without them noticing, he’d get a point. AND, whoever came back with a magnate stuck would have to give Ben a jedi jelly. 

That was why Ben was sneaking now. Aran Trikar’la was posted in the little hallway by the gardens. Aran Kakovidir was his favorite to play with but Aran Trikar’la was his favorite to be with. He was calm and quiet. It was safe with Aran Trikar’la, even if he was trikar’la. BUT, at the moment it he wasn’t his favorite he was his lenedat. 

Ben sneaked into the hall, staying close to the wall and the shadows. He was getting closer and closer. He felt butterflies in his belly as he neared. His hand grasped the magnet he was going to stick on trikar’la. 

Then the force moved and his feet left the ground. Ben gave a small shout of surprise as he was lifted and deposited right in front of the aran, whose mask tipped down to stare at him. His fingers twitched in a familiar way and Ben pouted. 

Caught.

The mask tileted and Ben sighed and plopped down on the Aran’s feet arms crossed. He heard Aran Trikar’la tap his kom’rk and pouted more. 

Busted.

Then he remembered. He stood up and dug into the folds of his uniform and pulled out a flimsy. 

“Aran, aran, lookie!” He held it up to show it. 

He was very proud. This was the real reason he was hunting aran trikar’la. They were having an art day in the creche and he made a picture of him sitting on aran trikar’la’s feet at a door. Aran trikar’la always let him sit on his feet. 

A long time ago he fell asleep on aran trikar’la’s feet in the archive and then bit a master when aran trikar’la got all stiff and nervous. The aran took it and nodded, placing a hand on his head. The flimsy was tucked into his belt and Ben happily sat back down on his feet. He pulled out his data pad and tried to work on his letters. 

After several long minutes Ben froze. He felt buir and ori’vod. When they left last time ori’vod was going to start his verd’goten. He hopped up and tugged on aran trikar’la’s hand. 

“Aran! Aran! Buir olar!”

His mask tilted and a short nod came. His hand tapped his kom’rk. Ben bounced impatiently on his feet. He had to wait, but he was so excited. Buir wasn’t close yet. Probably still in the air high up, but they were getting closer. 

Finally Aran Russ arrived. 

Ben then took to tugging Aran Trikar’la by the hand, to the aran’e’yaim. Aran Trikar’la held his hand to indicate for Ben to wait at the door. So he did, bouncing on his feet. Buir and Ori’vod were closer now, probably at the town. It took ages but Trikar’la, Feemor came out, and scooped him up into his arms. 

“Su’cuy, Ob’ika.” He greeted, pressing a mirshmurc’cya with a grin.

“Su’cuy, Fee. Now Buir?”

“Yes, yes, lets go see your buir now.” Feemor laughed and threw Ben’s cloak over his head. “How is the creche? Your friends?” Feemor asked and Ben took the offer and started talking. Feemor nodded and made noises of shock or agreement. All the things he couldn’t do while on duty. When they slipped out of the temple Ben waved at Aran piryc, and told Fee who it was on duty there. When Fee asked how he knew he went into all the detail, but Fee still seemed confused and surprised, which was dumb. He wore a mask so he should know too. 

They played the name game when the were on the public transport. Fee tried to say that using mando’a was cheating, but that was dumb too. But Fee was still only just learning, so Ben would help him learn words too. 

Fee was mean and wouldn’t put Ben down when they entered Keldab’ika, leaving Ben to eagerly kick his feet. Buir was super close now. Some of the adults around waved at him but he couldn’t pay any attention to them, Buir was almost there. 

“Down! Down! Down! Down!” Ben chanted, and Fee finally put him down. Ben took off, his feet pounding on the ground until he threw himself forward. 

He crashed against hard beskar’gam with a huge smile. 

“Buir!” Strong arms lifted him up and gave a small toss in the air. 

“Oh my boy!”

“No buy’ce” Ben pouted, slamming his hands on the bucket over buir’s head. 

“Ohhh, lek, lek. Give me a moment, Ben’ika” Buir said, using one hand to tug off the bucket. Finally he got it off and Ben smashed his face against his Buir’s in a mirshmurc’cya. Buire felt warm in the force, calm and steady. It felt like yaim. Everything was right again. Then Ben perked up. 

“Vaii ori’vod?” Ben asked, peering around, searching for his brother. His eyes found a mass of young mando’ad all wearing buy’ce. “Ori’vod! Kandosii!” 

“Vod’ika!” his ori’vod shouted, and freed himself from the mass of people congratulating him. Ben wiggled in his buir’s arms only to be deposited in Jango’s. 

“Woah! Mandos!” A new voice called, and Ben whipped around in Jango’s arms. It was Quinlan.

“Quin?” Ben asked, blinking at the older boy who was new to the creche. 

“Padawan, how did you get out?” Feemor asked, voice still and hard.

“Oh, I followed you and Obes. How do you know so many Mandos?”

“This is my family.” Ben said quietly, looking between Buir and Fee. 

“Cool! I’m Quin, Obe’s best friend.” 

“Your best friend?” Jango asked, head tilted. Ben smiled, maybe it would be okay if one other person knew.

Chapter Text

Chapter 4: Hawks

7932.28.11

Tar’la was finally, finally, off shift. She somehow got bullied into taking several long shifts at a time. Which meant she could finally go to Keldab’ika. She wasn’t sure what the mandos thought of the guard coming in and crashing their party, but she loved keldab’ika. She loved the mandos. There was just something so freeing with them. The guard and the mandos should have been squished together years ago. It made the stories about Tarre Viszla all the more interesting. Mandos and Jedi were meant to be one and the same. 

Today she was extra excited to be going to Keldab’ika, because she got to take Ob’ika with her. So, she had happily hopped onto the public transport heading in the direction of Keldab’ika with Ob’ika hanging on her hand. He was chirping away about his classes, and his friends, which honestly was the cutest thing ever. She listened attentively with a smile. She was lucky enough to get quite a few assignments in the creche, and watch over their little mascot. 

It was a good thing the little monster got over his biting phase, Cin said that he was starting to develop his venom , which meant biting would start to hurt more than just the little teeth. The details went over Tar’la’s head but it sounded very very painful and long lasting. 

Ob’ika’s voice trailed off and he went still as a stone. 

“Ob’ika?” She asked, looking at the youngling. His eyes were wide and unfocused, staring off unblinking. The guard were trained by this point to know the signs. Even now that he was 7, visions still tormented him regularly. 

She pulled him closer, wrapping an arm over his shoulders as she kept watch around them. There were a few eyes watching them, but no danger yet. They were two stops away from Keldab’ika, soon they’d be in safe territory. The force was growing in warning, and she felt more tension. She had to be on alert. 

“Hawk.” Obi-Wan whispered.

“Hawk?” She asked softly. 

“Mythosaur.” 

The transport stopped and the force blared an alarm. She bent down and scooped the youngling up in her arms, her hand twitching towards where her lightsaber was hidden. A mando stepped onto the transport and a cold chill ran down her spine. She knew that symbol. The guard were forced to learn the different mando symbols for Obi-Wan’s safety, which ones were a danger to the youngling and which weren’t. This mando was one of the ones they had to look out for. She quickly stepped off the transport, holding Ob’ika close. They could walk to keldab’ika. It would be longer, but they could do it.

“Hawk.”

“Yes, hawk” She echoes absently as she shifted through the crowd. The muffled presence in the force that spoke of beskar followed them. With a glance over her shoulder, it was confirmed. The mando was following them, his T-visor looking directly at her. 

“Hold onto me, kiddo.” She said softly, wrapping his small arms around her neck so she could tap on her vambrace. “Come on, answer damn it.”

“Veshok, what is it?”

“I need reinforcements to my position.”

“Me'bana?”

“We’ve got a tail. Mando. Seems to be the enemy.” She whispered into her com. “Ob’ika’s in the middle of a vision.”

“I’m sending out some ramikad’e.” came the response.

“Make it fast.” She said, ducking just as the force screamed. A dart went flying past her head, missing them by inches. She took off, clinging tightly to the still unaware youngling in her arms. 

“Hawks closing in, surrounding.”

“That doesn’t sound good.” She answered, trying to keep him calm as she ran. 

“Aruetii. Aruetii.”

“An outsider?” 

“Aruetti. Used to be mythosaur, but not.”

The force screamed and she ducked again, avoiding another dart. She wanted to curse and scream. This was her day off, it was supposed to be fun and easy, not this . Finally the familiar scream of jetpacks filled the air and blaster fire. 

“This way.” one mando said, male from the sound of his vo-coder, and she quickly followed them while the other mandos fought off the one attacking them. He scanned her over for any trackers and when she was cleared he guided her through the maze of alleyways and crossroads into Keldab’ika. 

“Is the ad’ika okay?” He asked. She set Ob’ika down and looked him over. The youngling’s eyes were still wide open, unseeing, but he was calm in the force.

“I think so? Visions aren’t my specialty.”

“I’ll go get Sthal, he’s in training at the moment.” The mando offered and went off to the building the mandos let the guard learn and train. 

“Hawk.” Ob’ika whispered, tears filling his eyes. 

“Hawk,” she repeated, rubbing his arms to try to bring some comfort. 

“Ben’ika!” the Mand’alor’s voice called and she winced. Reluctantly she held a hand up, asking him to not get closer. “What’s wrong?”

“Vision.” As soon as the word left her mouth Sthal came running out and dropping next to them.

“What’s happened?” Stha; asked, touching the youngling’s shoulder as his force presence seemed to surround the little one. 

“He’s just gone vacant. He’s been speaking, but nothing that makes sense. There were no reactions to his environment, not even when we were being shot at. But he did answer a question I asked.” Tar’la reported. 

“What question?” Sthal stopped whatever he was doing to look at her, brow creasing. 

“He said aruetii, I asked if he meant outsider. He said ‘used to be mythosaur but not’”

“Traitor then, probably, it’s a good sign that he’s able to respond.” He turned back to Ob’ika. “Hey Ben’ika, can you hear me?”

“Hawk.” Ben answered. 

“You see a hawk?” Sthal asked, force presence reaching out to Ob’ika again, softly surrounding him. 

“Lek.”

“What’s the hawk doing?”

“Eating.”

“What’s it eating.”

“Mythosaur.”

“That’s very interesting, but you need to come back to us now.”

“I don’t want to leave the mythosaur alone.”

“Why not?”

“Don’t want him to be alone.” Tears fell from his eyes as he started to cry. “Don’t die.”

“You need to come back to us.”

“No.”

“You are upset.”

“... don’t die.”

“Your Buir is here, he wants to spend time with you.” Sthal tried to coax Ob’ika back to the present, but instead the little one burst into tears and the force went heavy. 

“Okay, Tar’la, I need you to grab onto my force presence, and don’t let go.” Sthal said calmly, shifting to sit fully in front of Ob’ika. 

“Why?”

“Because I need to go in and help pull him out, but he’s going to be trying to pull me in. You need to act as an achor.”

“I am not trained for this.” 

“I’ll be fine.” 

She let out a strangled sound, her lekku curling in anxiousness. Finally she knelt next to him, placed a hand on his shoulder and closed her eyes. She felt his presence in the force and grabbed onto it with both hands. His presence started to pull away from her, but she pictured herself settling down, lowering her center of gravity and held tight. Like an immovable rock, an old firm tree, she would not move. Whatever Ob’ika was doing was certainly causing quite the fight, but she would be damned if she lost a tug of war competition with a youngling. 

Finally Sthal tugged back, pulling himself and the youngling out. She heard distantly the sound of sobbing, but she held tight. Then a tap on her shoulder and she opened her eyes. 

“All good, you’re a good anchor.”

“Please don’t make me do that again.” 

The bastard grinned and helped her up to her feet. She glanced over his shoulder and saw the little one sobbing his heart out as he clung to his father. The Mand’alor rocked his baby in his arms, trying to soothe him all while others watched. 

It took some time but eventually the Mand’alor was able to get Ob’ika to stop crying and had scooped his son up to go off to celebrate his name day. Tar’la followed Sthal to their ‘classroom’.

“So how far did you get into the codex?” He asked. 

“I’m at clans and houses.” 

“Good, we’ve on the same lesson then.”

Feemor grinned, clutching two mugs of tihaar as he wove his way through the celebrating crowd. This was something that would never be seen at the temple. The mandalorians clung onto any and every reason to celebrate with vigor. They even had a word for it. Shereshoy, a lust for life, the enjoyment of each day and a determination to seek and take every possible experience and relishing it. Today it was to celebrate Ben’s name day, another year passed where the little one still lived. He was now flourishing and growing stronger, and that was something to celebrate. Ben bounced back from the vision rather quickly this time, and was off playing cu'bikad with his brother and his brother’s friends. He winced slightly, part of him wanting to rush over to take the knives out of little hands, but knew that this was who they were. 

“Alor,” Feemor greeted, handing over the second mug as he sat.

“Ah, Aran Feemor, welcome. How are the classes? Good yes?”

“Elek, Alor. They are very interesting.”

“Good, good. You are family with Alor Cin, yes?” The Mand’alor asked. Feemor made a face and tipped his hand back and forth. The Mand’alor took a sip of his drink and silently urged Feemor to continue, so with a grimace he did.

“Jedi families are… different. Most consider lineages the same as family. In that case we do share a lineage. His Master, Master Yoda, also taught Master Yan, who taught my mas- My former master.”

“Former? He is no longer your teacher? I did not think the jetiise stop teaching once the student is grown.” The Mand’alor frowned and leaned in.

“Ah, well…” Feemor sighed and looked into the liquid in his mug like it could save him. “My master has declared he did not raise any padawan to knighthood.”

There was a gasp and a few shouts of outrage from nearby Mando’ad who were listening. He could feel the collective wince from the other guards who were around and knew. 

“Your teacher, your parent said he was not your parent?” Someone gasped. Feemor slumped his shoulders, wishing he could melt into the ground and disappear. There was more talk in rushed mando’a that he couldn’t quite keep up with when a hand clasped his shoulder.

“There is no word in our language for a child divorced by a parent. To do so is a shame on his honor, not yours. Only a child can divorce their parent, not the other way around.” The Mand’alor said softly, having shifted to sit closer to Feemor. 

“Ni kyr'tayl gai sa'ad, Feemor Sthal.” One of the nearby Mandos jumped up with a large grin. There were shouts of idnignation and arguing that left Feemor sitting in wide-eyed shock.

“Luubid!” The Mand’alor shouted, causing everyone nearby to fall silent. 

“What just happened?” Feemor asked, looking around at everyone. 

“You do not have Aran Feemor’s consent.” He said very carefully, staring at the Mando who had jumped up. The Mando pouted and opened his mouth to respond but the Mand’alor raised a hand and silenced him. “Aran Feemor is not a foundling, he also has family with the Aran’alor. You did not ask for his consent. In addition, you would not have first claim even if he did wish to be adopted.”

“ADOPTED?” Feemor squeaked, feeling his face go hot with blush. 

“Sorry, if anyone adopts this kid it’s going to be me.” A familiar voice called over the crowd accompanied by a familiar presence. Feemor buried his face in his hands. Force take him now.  An arm wrapped over his shoulders and Feemor groaned. 

“Cin-”

“Nope, you’re stuck with me kiddo. Sorry friend, but I’m keeping him.”  Cin interrupted him and Feemor could feel the smile in his voice. The sound of hurried little feet came rushing up to him and he could feel cin flinch against him. Reluctantly Feemor looked over and saw little Ben had plastered himself against Cin with a big smile.

“Master Cin, Master Cin, it’s my name-day!” He chirped with a big grin. 

“So it is, Ob’ika. Congratulations.”

“Rur just adopted Fee, so now we can celebrate our name days together!” He cheered with an even larger smile. There was scattering laughter that made Feemor’s face burn brighter.

“No, Fee didn’t get adopted, Rur didn’t go about it right.” The Mand’alor said patiently. Ben pouted. 

“But I wanted Fee to be in our house.” He mumbled, moving to hug Feemor. 

“Feemor, I know you are a Jetii, but I would be honored to count you as a member of my house.” The Mand’alor said calmly and everyone went silent. 

“I-”

“You do not need to answer. Think about it, and when you are ready you may answer.”

Ben continued to pout but looked between his father and Feemor. He carefully climbed into Feemor’s lap and gave him a very sincere hug before sliding back down and going over to his father. 

“Buir, play cu’bikad with me.” Ben demanded as he tugged on the hem of his father’s tunic. Immediately the Mand’alor turned his attention to his youngest.

“I thought you were playing with Jango?”

“Ori’vod teamed up with Myles and Silas, but you’re better than even three people so you play with me.”

“Ohhh, I see. How about I tell you the secret I have on how to play?” Ben’s eyes went wide and he crept closer as his father whispered in his ear. After a few moments Ben grinned brightly and took off.

“Ori’vod, I can beat you!” Ben shouted, clamoring up to the older boys. The Mand’alor chuckled and sat back down. 

“Come, sit with us Cin.” Cin plopped down between Feemor and the Mand’alor, to Feemor’s relief. 

“So, what have I missed.” 

As the two started talking, Feemor watched. An offer to join house Mereel, even though he wasn’t a member of a clan or a mandalorian.

It….

It was a lot. 

“He seems to have taken an interest in diplomacy and language.”

“Really? Did he say why?” The Mand’alor asked, head tilted. Cin laughed and leaned in closer after checking the area for the children

“I asked him too. He said ‘Jango’s bad at speaking and makes people want to punch him, so I gotta learn how to convince people not to punch him’. I almost busted a rib trying not to laugh.” Cin snickered but the Mand’alor groaned covering his face, which made Cin laugh even harder. 

“I keep telling him that he doesn’t need to learn to support his vod.”

“He wants to support his vod because he loves him. It’s quite cute. He’s very determined to be the best advisor to Jango when he becomes Mand’alor.” 

“He does not need to-”

“No, but he wants to. And for some reason the force is drawing him to it.” Cin assured and then went silent, glancing over at a laughing Ben. “I believe he has seen something, he won’t say what, but his learning is important.”

“Do you know what it is he sees?”

“No. Not entirely.” Cin said carefully.

“Hawks flying high in the air, above the clouds.” Feemor whispered, eyes locked on the flickering flames. 

“Feemor, we shouldn’t-”

“He should know.” Feemor sighed, eyes closing, remembering what he had seen when he was drawn into the vision. “ Hawks flying high in the air, above the clouds. One large and great, it’s shadow covering the others. Below a mythosaur, digging into the earth, shaking animals to the ground. The hawks circle and watch, the mythosaur does not see them. Another mythosaur approaches, friendly and calm. When the first turns it’s back, the other attacks, wounding it. It turns from a mythosaur to a great hawk. Then the hawks descend, pecking at the flesh, down to the bone. The large hawk tears out the heart of the mythosaur. A herd of young mythosaurs approach, scattering the hawks to the sky.” 

Feemor opened his eyes and looked up. Many eyes were on him. All the adults nearby were silent, the sound of the children playing just a ways away sounded jarring with the heavy weight that had settled around them. He took a deep breath before looking into the Mand’alor’s dark eyes. 

“Fee-” Cin started. 

“You are the mythosaur. Ben has seen your death. He has seen it before, but it is all the same. There is an aruetii. And they will lead you to your death. Jango will watch you die.”

Chapter Text

Chapter 5: Nu kyr'adyc, shi taab'echaaj'la.

7932.28.11

“Me’ven?” the word left his mouth with all the air he had left in his lungs. It felt like a punch to the gut. Like something invisible had pulled all the air from his lungs and dropped him into a frozen lake. Feemor’s ice blue eyes never left his, even with Cin hissing in the guard’s ear. Feemor was being honest. Deadly honest. Shortly after they had met the young man had mentioned that Ben would sometimes pull him into his visions. Which meant Feemor saw what Ben saw…

Oh his boy. 

His poor baby. 

Yenna’s child. 

His Ben’ika. 

All this time. All this time , his baby was seeing his death. 

His death at the hand of a traitor. 

A traitor who for all he knew was currently planning on leading him to his death. 

Oh stars. 

And Jango. His child was going to see it too. If it wasn’t bad enough that Ben’ika was seeing him die over and over, Jan’ika was going to see it happen too. His brave boy was going to see him die. Was going to watch him draw his last breath. Would have to carry his body away.

Jango couldn’t know. Not yet. 

He didn’t have his affairs in order.

Oh stars. 

He couldn’t force his son to figure out his arrangements, how to lead the house. 

“Buir? Me’bana?” Jango’s voice broke through the fog of his thoughts with jarring speed. His head shot up and there stood his son. His brave, brave boy. It was then he noticed the arguing around him. He quickly looked around for Ben’ika. His baby was still over by the cu'bikad with Jango’s grunts. Myles, holding him up underneath his arms like the ad was a disgruntled tooka. 

“Jan’ika, go play with your vod’ika.” Jaster ordered, voice firm. Jango’s dark eyebrows creased together, eyes darting to look at the Mando’ade around him arguing. 

“A buir” the ad tried to argue

“Now, jango.”

“I’m not an adiik, buir. I’m 16! I passed my verd’goten years ago. I deserve to know what’s going on.”

“Nayc. You are my ad , no matter the age.” He stood, grabbed his son by the back of his neck and pulled him in to press their foreheads together. “Please, Jan’ika. Go keep your vod’ika distracted for me. I need you to do this.” He said softly but firmly. Jango was stiff, but that was to be expected. 

Finally after a moment Jango nodded and pulled away. As soon as Jango was in grabbing range Myles deposited Ben’ika into Jango’s arms. He turned to the group around him, all still arguing. Guard Feemor was slumped in his seat, Cin scolding him in a quiet hushed voice.

“Luubid.” Jaster said. No one stopped speaking so he shouted again. To his relief everyone went quiet, and stared at him with eyes filled with pity. 

“Luubid. Not one word of this will leave this circle here. Am I clear?” He ordered. 

“Alor-”

“Nayc. Not one word. I know each one of you, if anyone besides you know I will kill you myself. Tayli'bac?.”

“What about Jango?”

“What my ade know will be up to me alone. Now, I am going to take my boys to our apartment and spend as much time with them that I can. Aran’alor, Aran Feemor, will you be returning with us?”

“Yes, Mand’alor.” Cin said on behalf of Feemor, who now wouldn’t look at Jaster. 

“Jate.” Jaster then turned and went over to his sons. Ben almost fell out of Jango’s arms in effort to get into Jaster’s

“Buir? Me'vaar ti gar?” Ben’ika asked, pressing a hand to his cheek. Jaster closed his eyes and took a deep breath. His baby could feel his emotions, and right now he needed to calm down. Portray a calm lake

“Naas, Ben’ika. Ready to go to bed?” 

Hesitantly Ben nodded and tucked his head against Jaster’s neck. He pressed a kiss to the top of his youngest’s head and warped an arm over his oldest’s shoulders. His aliit together he lead them to the nearest public transport station, waiting for the transport that would take them closest to the jedi temple. 

Jango kept shooting him disgruntled looks during the trip, but he didn’t say a word, just pulled him closer. They arrived at the temple in silence, the aran who had been present that night going silently to their personal apartments. Jaster handed Ben’ika to Jango, asking them to get ready before turning back to Cin and Feemor. 

“I need to know more. Is there a source I can learn more about these visions? An expert?” Jaster asked. Feemor shot Cin a look. 

“One of the high counselors is a seer.” Feemor said quietly. “He is a close friend to my former grandmaster.”

“Reach out to him, Fee. See if he will meet with Jaster tomorrow.” Cin ordered. 

“Alor… Ni ceta” Feemor whispered, and bowed lowly. Jaster closed his eyes for a moment.

“Don’t. N’entye. No debt, Aran Feemor. This… I needed to know this.”

Feemor bowed and slipped away to his apartment. 

“Is there a way to get Ben out of his classes for the day?”

“Of course, I can send a message to his teachers for the day and inform them he will be out of class with his finders after a rough vision, they’ll understand.”

“Thank you…” Jaster sighed and rubbed his eyes. He didn’t want the boys with him for the meeting, but they’d stick to him like glue if he didn’t have something to distract them. “Can I set the boys loose in the temple to play beroya?”

“Beroya?” Cin asked

“Bounty hunter.” Jaster explained. “Sometimes we give ade a list of people they have to track down and tag.”

“How would that work, for tomorrow.” Cin asked, seeming interested. Jaster pulled out a pouch from his belt and pulled out a small modified tracker. 

“It’s magnetic, an ad has to sneak up to their target, and get it on them. It will send a holo to a pre-programed com, of it being applied. Sometimes if the bounties are volunteers, they might have sweets or other prizes for the ade if they are tagged.”

“Interesting, I’ll come up with a list for tomorrow, it’s a good exercise for Ben.” Cin agreed, with a look in his eyes that had Jaster silently apologizing to the poor souls that Cin was thinking of. They bid each other a good night and Jaster went into his apartment, where his boys were wrestling in the karyai. Jango was on the ground, his vod’ika stuck in a headlock and doing his best to try to get out of it. Jaster watched with a small smile as the two grappled and rolled around. He could hear Ben’ika growl every once in a while and his teeth snap, to which Jango would either growl back or grunt a “no biting”. After a few minutes Jango let Ben win by sitting on his chest, a dramatic sigh of defeat. 

“Is this how you prepare for bed?” Jaster asked, a smile playing on his lips. 

“Buir!” Ben grinned from his perch on Jango’s chest.

“Did you wash up?” Jaster asked. 

“I tried but Ben’ika is stubborn.” Jango lifted his head from the floor with a small grin.

“Nuh-uh!”

“Yuh-uh!”

And just like that the two went back to wrestling on the floor. Jaster sighed and moved to their kitchen to start a pot of warm milk and honey for the ade. He stood in the kitchen, alone, listening to the sounds of his boys. His heart clenched. 

How was he supposed to leave these two alone in the galaxy? What would happen to his sweet Jan’ika. The poor boy already lost his first buir’e, and his Yen’buir so soon after. How was he supposed to leave him behind, another in a long list of loss. He knew Jango would take care of Ben, but he shouldn’t have to. 

“Buir?” 

Jaster turned quickly, almost spilling the now steaming milk, to see his baby peeking into the kitchen. 

“Lek, Ben’ika?”

“You’re sad.”

“Elek. Come, let's cuddle.” He said, bringing the milk out to the karyai. He poured a glass for his ade and pulled them in close. Ben almost immediately plastered himself to him, clinging to him like an octopus. Jango leaned against him, acting somewhat reluctant. Jaster wanted to curse teenage hormones, but at least Jango was still willing to be close every once in a while. 

“Nu kyr'adyc, shi taab'echaaj'la” Jaster started. Then slowly they went through their list, Ben only said Yen’buir, having not known anyone else. Jango paid tribute to his lost family, to his buire and ori’vod. Jaster’s list was a little longer, comrades who marched ahead long ago, family who marched before their time. It sombered the mood, and he clutched his children tighter. 

“Do you know why we say ‘Nu kyr'adyc, shi taab'echaaj'la’?” Jaster asked.

Jango shook his head, and Ben clung tighter for a moment. 

“The masters… the teachers here. They say that the force is in everything and everywhere. And when the body dies, the spirit joins with the cosmic force.” Ben said quietly. 

“Everyone dies. We know this and accept it. Life as an ori’ramikad’e is dangerous, injury and even death are not unexpected, though we hope it won’t happen. As Mando’ade, we believe that when we die, our soul, what makes us who we are, march ahead to join the manda. Every mando’ade who marches ahead joins with those before them. We are not alone in the manda. We retain who we are, our thoughts and feelings. When we fight, when we live according to the mando’ade way, we gain strength from those who marched ahead. They guide us when we join them so that we do not wander alone. Our people have called me to be Mand’alor. That means one day, when I march ahead of you both, I will join the Ka’ra, the council of fallen kings. I will watch over you both, always. Even if I must march backwards.”

“Is Yen’buir watching?” Ben asked, his big eyes a stormy gray.

“Course she is, Ben.” Jango said, leaning over Jaster to look at his vod’ika. 

“Would you like me to tell some stories about her?” Jaster asked.

“Lek!” Ben curled in closer.

“Well… hmmm where to start?”

“The beginning, buir,” Jango rolled his eyes.

“Ah, yes the beginning. At the time I was a new journeyman protector.”

7821.29.11

“Alright, verde.” Buir called his ade to attention. Ben’ika was dressed in what he called his ‘initiate whites’, and reluctantly Jango wore his pretend beads and a large blue poncho. A pouch on jango’s belt was filled with game tags, and he knew Ben had a handful too in his pockets. Jango guessed there had to be nearly thirty between them. His vod’ika was nearly vibrating with excitement. Jango was excited too. He was getting the chance to teach Ben how to be a beroya. When their buir called them to attention they quickly straightened under his gaze. 

“Here, a list of your targets.” Buir presented a datapad. “Like any bounty, there is a holo image of your target and a section of brief information about them. You are to track down, and tag your target without being caught. After you tag them, inform them they had been tagged, and move on to your next. You do not need to hunt in order, but remember to be respectful of the others in the temple.”

“Elek, Alor!” Both of them cheered. 

“Remember to stay together . You are a team for this.” Buir reminded them. 

“Elek, Alor!” they cheered again. Jango cast a look to his vod’ika and subtly gave their buir a nod. He’d stick close to him. 

“Now, I will be in a meeting, but you can com me at any time. Cin will be monitoring you and your progress. Expect him to stop you if you enter an out of bounds area, are too disruptive, or if my meeting is running late and you need to eat. Do you have any questions?”

“Nayc, Alor.” Jango said.

“Nayc, Buir.” Ben grinned. Buir smiled and gave them each a Mirshmurc’cya, before sending them off. Jango grabbed the data pad from buir as they left the aran’yaim. 

“Whose on the list?” Ben asked, clinging to Jango’s arm to look at the pad. Jango stooped down to let Ben look at it with him. A number of them seemed to be aran, some he recognized in passing. 

“Hey, that's Master Windu! And Master Yoda! Oh and Master Plo!” Ben bounced, shaking Jango. 

“Who are they?” Jango asked. Those names sounded vaguely familiar.

“They’re on the high council. Master yoda helps teach from time to time. And Master plo spends time in the creche too.”

“In that case who do you think we should go after first?” Ben leaned over him and scrolled on the pad before nodding. 

“We should go after the aran’e first! I know where they all tend to patrol.” Ben explained jumping up. “Remember, make you head a fortress, otherwise they’ll know we’re coming.”

“You got it. Well then, vod’ika, lead the way” Jango grinned at his brother. He let his vod drag him through the halls of the temple. There were a few jetii who gave them curious looks, who Ben just hushed and grinned at. Ben flashed Jango the signal for target ahead. He tapped the screen. 

Jaa Nol. Knight Guard. Kiffar. Scared of younglings.

Jango pulled a face. There was no way the last one was true. Ben pressed a finger to his lips and crept forward towards a masked guard. He moved quietly behind the guard and stuck the tag to his shin. Then a moment later he wrapped his arms around his legs and the aran went stiff like he had just been prodded by an electro probe. 

“Got you!” Ben cheered. The guard sagged a little and pulled a pouch from his belt handing it to Jango’s vod’ika. Ben cheered again and ran back to Jango, holding their bounty in his hands. 

“Look!” Ben presented it to him. Jango took it carefully and opened the pouch. Inside were a bunch of individually wrapped candies. 

“How would you like to divide our rewards Ben? Split as soon as we get them or wait until we complete our mission?” Jango asked. Ben pressed his lips together in thought then smiled. 

“You choose!” 

Jango nodded seriously and put the pouch into one of his belt pouches for safe keeping. They moved through the temple with ease as Ben guided them easily to where each aran on their list was on patrol. It was a surprise Ben could tell who each was, because Jango sure couldn’t. Mando’ade were at least kind enough to have a way to differentiate each other through their armor or paint. 

An hour later they were holed up in one of the aran’e training rooms going through their numerous rewards with gusto and the aran’alor watching over them. Ben gave Jango the majority of his bounty, claiming that Jango didn’t have daily access to the treats. 

Buir was still in his meeting, so Aran’alor and Aran Feemor started running them through an obstacle course they made for them. 

7932.3.12

“Buir, don’t go!” Ben cried, clinging tightly to Jaster’s legs. Jaster frowned, running a hand through his youngest’s fluffy red hair. Ben always cried when they had to leave, but would eventually let them go. Today though, he had staunchly refused to release his buir. Cin had tried to pry Ben off, only to get bit by the ad. It was a lucky thing that they were still in the aran’yaim, because Ben’s anti-venom was close on hand, and hopefully no permanent damage was received. 

“Ben’ika I must go now.”

“NO!” Ben shrieked, his little fingers digging into the soft gaps between his beskar’gam. He winced, and slowly knelt down, his ad, adjusting his grip accordingly. In a second he had his ad clinging to his neck, little teeth chomped down around his kute. 

“Ben’ika.” Jaster sighed. His ad growled in return. He sighed again, and maneuvered his babe so he could sit fully on the ground holding him. 

“I know you are scared, Ben’ika. But I have a job to do. Our people rely on me. Right now, our people need the funds of the contracts our Ori’ramikad have received. As their leader I cannot in good conscience send them out and stay behind.” Jaster explained softly. Ben gave a soft keening sound, and Jaster could feel the warmth of big wet tears on his neck. He rubbed his back and pressed a kiss to the top of his head. 

“I will do what I can to return to you. I will not promise it, because I do not know if I can keep such a promise. But no matter what I am with you. I hold you in my heart, and you hold me in yours. Because of that we will never be parted.”

“Don’t go buir.” Ben whispered. 

“I am right here, Ben’ika. But I do need to go shortly.” Jaster whispered back, and held him tightly in his arms.

7933.15.4

Cin was supervising the initiate saber class as Senior Padawan Fisto guided them through shii-cho with excitement and a level of seriousness the young padawan rarely showed. If the padawan kept up his excitement with the form Cin had little doubt he would be a master of it in a few years. After every repetition Ben would turn his big blue eyes towards him, seeking approval. He’d give a small nod and a tug in the force to order him to pay attention. He would, diligently, turn his attention back to Padawan Fisto. After a few minutes it turned to short duels. 

Initiate Chun had just won his duel against Initiate Alto when it happened. 

Ben’s scream made his blood turn cold. It was one of pure pain and anguish. He saw the child drop to the ground, fingers digging into his scalp hard enough to draw blood. Everyone jumped back, giving Ben space as he seized on the ground. It was then that Cin finally moved, darting forward. Ben was still screaming. He reached out to tough his mind and recoiled in shock. The whiplash of a shattered bond felt like a life wire jumping around and electrocuting anything it touched. He pressed a hand to Ben’s forehead and pressed down the order of sleep. Ben tried to fight back, but eventually the boy dropped unconscious. 

“Master?” Padawan Fisto asked, creeping closer. 

“Com the halls, tell them I’m bringing initiate Kenobi in.”

“What-”

“Now, Kit.” He ordered as he scooped the boy into his arms and ran. He shouted as he did, ordering people out of his way as he tore through the hall. Someone must have alerted the guard, because before he sprinted into the halls two of his guard were there on his heel, one he was quite certain was Feemor. 

“CHE!” He shouted as he entered, the boy limp in his arms. The aggressive healer came in a flurry, taking the little one from his arms and depositing him onto a stretcher. 

“What happened?” 

“Broken bond.” He choked. 

“With who?” She asked, voice barely above a whisper. She was the only other one who knew . 

“His father.” 

“Oh, poor dear. We’ll make him comfortable.” she comforted him, pushing the stretcher to a secluded room. Cin followed, his heart breaking just a little for the youngling. 

“Master.” one of the guards, whom he was now certain was Feemor, spoke softly. 

“Go, you’re relieved of duty for now. Ben’ika need you.” Cin ordered silently. In a surprising change Feemor didn’t bow. Instead he pressed a fist to his chest, the durasteel clanging. Then he turned and moved quickly from the halls. Cin took a deep breath and turned to the other. 

“Go take off the uniform, go to Keldab’ika. Get the goran and bring him back here.” He ordered. Then to his surprise, just as Feemor did, his fist clanged against his breastplate and he too turned and left just as quickly. Cin took a deep breath and went to follow Che to the room Ben would call his. By the time he got there the child was already hooked up to several wires and medicinal drips. He took a moment to drop into the chair next to the bed and let his head fall in his hands. It wasn’t supposed to happen this fast, this soon. Ben was supposed to have more time left with his father. After a moment he pulled out his com.

Battle Master Cin Drallig to guard detail

Date:7933.15.4 13:43hr

Notice

Ben'ayan Mereel is in the halls of healing due to the backlash of a broken bond. Nothing is confirmed yet but it is believed that Mand’alor Mereel has joined the Manda. Be respectful with your interactions with the Mando’ade in the coming days, do not speak of anything until there is confirmation. Any guards at the entrances or hangers, be prepared to receive the Goran and the Mand’alor’s eldest child. 

Jaster Mereel nu kyr'adyc, shi taab'echaaj'la

Chapter Text

Chapter 6: Mand’alor

7933. 2.5

Jaa stood silently in the hangar on duty. It had been… a heavy few days. The weight of the Mand’alor’s death felt heavy on everyone’s hearts. At least everyone in the guard. Cin and Feemor were sullen. If Jaa had to give a statement, he’d say that the death of Jaster Mereel hit them the hardest out of all the guard. As a tribute the guard had collectively painted one shoulder pauldron gray. 

The color of mourning. 

That’s what they were all doing, in their own way. Mourning. Some the loss of a great leader, others the loss of the man who was trying to bring their people together. People like Fee and Cin, the loss of a friend. 

Healer Che had to keep poor Ben under the majority of the time. Little ones weren’t meant to deal with loss. Not one Ben’s age. Old enough to understand and feel the loss, not old enough to manage the emotions that came with it, no master to help him parse through the muddle and pull him out on the other side. 

That and the little monster was still feral. 

Jaa had visited him once in the halls when the child was awake. He wailed and growled, and lashed out at anyone who got within reach. Fee tried to say that Ben was just lashing out like a cornered animal, but the kiddo wasn’t some scared tooka. It was a good thing the boy had the self-control to not use the force, and that the sedative he was still hooked up to muddled that ability, but snapping teeth was just as much of a deterrent. So, Jaa sat there like a champ as the little one broke apart, while trying to press feelings of comfort and peace to the little one. Fee had stepped out to speak with Che, when the little menace, tired out, climbed onto his lap and fell asleep crying into Jaa’s tunic.  

Then Fee was a dick, and simply took a holo of his silent pleading to be saved. 

Ben was rarely left alone, even when he screamed and demanded to be left. Cin didn’t even have to set up a rotation for Ben’s ver'gebuir. Feemor was there the most, no one gave him a hard time when he took himself off rotation to spend the majority of the time in the room with Ben or speaking with the healers. Cin stopped by as often as he could, normally around the last meal. Other than those two, different knight guards would stop and spend time with the kid, giving Feemor a break to breathe or use the bathroom. 

Jaa didn’t like to deal with all those heightened emotions. He wasn’t heartless, but heightened emotions tended to make him uncomfortable. So he asked to be assigned to one of the areas Jango was likely to arrive at. Because, if he couldn’t be there for the boys emotionally, he could at least be there to try to make things easier. He’d been a knight guard since his knighting. While there were others who had been in the guard longer, he still had been a guard for going on 35 years. He knew some of the best passages for moving unseen and quickly. 

That was why he stood guard in the hanger. 

Waiting.

Waiting and hoping that Jango would be here soon. That the boys would have each other to rely on. That maybe, just maybe, Jango would be able to settle Ben, or even make the kid crack a smile. Anything. 

Feemor Sthal to guard detail

Date:7933.2.5 16:03 hr

Notice

Ben’ayan Mereel has snuck out from the loving care of Healer Che without leave. If anyone sees him please alert to his location. He does not have to return to the halls but Healer Che is requiring that he be monitored. Until eyes are on him, he is considered a code grey. 

Remember to mind his teeth, he’s not likely to bite but he will if he feels cornered.

Jaa groaned. Great. Lovely. Just perfect. 

He scanned the area. No sign of the little biter. Wonderful. 

The arrival lights went off and the mechanics jumped to the ready. Jaa sighed again and pulled up the arrival manifest. Two ships inbound. The first ship had Jedi Master Dooku and Padawan Vosa returning from a mission. Easy enough. Looked to be a negotiation mission on Corellia, according to the padawan report, no interactions with pirates, not carrying any dangerous cargo (unless lightsabers counted; so shit Vosa). 

Then he looked at the second arrival.

Joy of all joys. 

It was the dick and Master Thal. 

Well this was going to be fun. 

They were retuning from a mission that turned into aggressive negotiations. Their ship had received some ‘minor damage’, and they were rough but not in need of the healers. In other words Qui-Gon Jin was still Qui-Gon Jinning and still had the luck of a bad end of a bantha. Jaa sighed. 

Then his notification went off again .

Rowel Hess to guard detail

Date: 7933.2.5 16:13hr

Notice

Ben’ayan Mereel seen moving towards the hangers. Lock down all out bound ships and monitor in bound ships so the child doesn’t get hit. The initiate seemed to be focused on a destination. Still conder him a code grey. 

Feemor Sthal to guard detail

Date 7933.2.5 16:14

Notice

On my way to intercept

Kriiiiiff. Jaa groaned audibly, but luckily no one was close enough to hear the sound coming from his vocoder. He pulled up his personal chat, but before he could start to type a message he received another notification of an inbound ship. 

Ship named Legacy, carrying guards, an unnamed dignitary, and a body under stasis. He looked at the code given and swore. 

J: Heads up, kid’s gotta be heading to my bay

J: the Mereel code was used for an inbound ship

F: Wonderful. I’m on my way there now

J: Wait that’s not all

C: Why am I on this?

J: Two other ships are arriving

J: Dooku and his padawan

J: and the dick and his girl

C: Kriff

F: I’ll be there in 2 minutes

J: I don’t think you read me

J: Jinn is going to be here

F: I don’t care at the moment. Ben and Jango are going to be there.

C: I’ll be there in 10

Jaa groaned and shut his chat board down. He scanned the area again, and then moved before his brain caught up. 

With a little assistance from the force he managed to grab Ben and yank him out of the way of the landing ship. The mechanics were cursing up a storm, their heart rates slowing from the intense spike of panic, as none of them reacted fast enough to stop the youngling. Ben started squirming and hissing in his grasp as he dragged him out of the danger zone. 

“Ben if you bite me I swear on the force, I’ll bite you back.” Jaa threatened. Then the beast growled, sharp little teeth bared. 

Jaa then said kriff it, turned so only Ben could see and slid his mask up. He then growled low and deep, his blunt teeth bared. 

Ben tried to growl again, but he repeated himself and pushed his face in Ben’s. Then the youngling went silent. A beat past in silence before the youngling latching himself around Jaa’s waist. He quickly slid his mask back in place and set an arm over Ben’s shoulders. 

“What the KRIFF was that kid thinking! I could’ve squashed him!” a young voice shrieked, and Ben’s arms tightened. 

That had to be the lovely Vosa that Fee complained about frequently. He turned and stiffened. The blonde was marching towards them with fury in her eyes and her presence in the force. Ben had gone still, a new growl raising in his chest. Jaa made the snap decision.

“Cease hostilities!” He commanded loudly, one hand twitching towards where his saber was, while the other hand pressed Ben’s neck to move him behind him. 

The padawan froze mid-step, and her master came rushing from the ship. The elder master looked between his apprentice, the guard, and the youngling clinging to the guard. 

“Padawan,” the master snapped. 

“Master he-” the padawan said, gesturing towards Ben. 

“Komari.” 

The padawan frowned and rolled her eyes before stomping back to her master. 

Then the second ship came in to land and Ben was like a strill catching onto a scent. His whole body stiffened and turned towards the ship. Little fingers dug into his skin and he almost lurched forward if it wasn’t for Jaa still having a hand on him to keep him still. 

Finally the ship ramp lowered and one figure started walking down. Once he had visual confirmation he lifted his hand and Ben went running. The boys clashed together a few steps from the ramp. Jango had dropped to his knees to lower himself for Ben, who had still nearly toppled his older brother. 

Then the all too familiar wail came and Jaa squeezed his eyes shut. He looked back at Dooku and Vosa who were now standing still, watching the children with curiosity and pity. 

A robed figure stepped up next to him.

“Aren’t you going up to them?” Jaa asked quietly

“Not yet. They need this moment to themselves.”

“The little beast almost got himself squished under your grandmaster’s landing ship.”

“What?”

“I saved him, naturally. But I’ll have to inform the battlemaster I needed to intervene with the padawan.”

“Thank you. I’ll keep an eye on the verd’ike.” Feemor promised and moved slightly closer to the children with crossed arms and hood drawn low over his face. Master Dooku and Padawan Vosa hadn’t moved, watching the children embrace and cry and whispering to each other. Likelihood was Dooku found this all undignified, and Vosa was probably collecting gossip. 

It was then the third ship landed. Jaa watched as the ramp lowered and two singed jedi ‘masters’ exited and paused at the sight of the children. 

“No, you don’t want to, not now.” He heard Jango say, as a keening wail filled the air. “He wouldn’t want you to see him like this, not yet.”

Ben had moved, trying to run up the ramp, but Jango was holding him back. The ramp was closing, likely to head over to Keldab’ika with the Mand’alor’s body to prep for their funeral rites. Ben tried to fight against Jango, to get onto the ship, but his older brother was very good at wrangling the little beast. 

“Oh, dears, are you okay” Master Thal asked, stepping towards the children. Feemor stepped forward, stopping her in her path. 

“They just lost their master.”

“A master can only have one apprentice.” Jinn’s voice cut through the air. Jaa held his breath, and prayed to the force or any benevolent cosmic entity to show a tiny bit of mercy on the kid. 

Just for once. 

And to take away all his strength.

Because he could, and would beat the osik out of Jinn if given an excuse.

“He was the youngling’s finder. He already had a strong bond with the youngling and was planning on taking him on as his next apprentice. They already considered themselves lineage.” Feemor said solemnly, still not lowering his hood. He was sticking to the cover story even now. He was tense now, his presence tightly wound and locked behind high shields. 

“Where is the rest of their line?” Dooku had asked, stepping up to the now growing crowd, padawan trailing behind him, very obviously staring at the boys. 

“There is no one else. Before his passing he had asked if he may claim me as a part of his lineage… I never had the chance to answer him.” Feemor said. He then bowed. “Please excuse us.”

Cin rushed in just as Feemor got to the boys. He had a hand on Jango’s shoulder and was whispering to them quietly. Cin sent a quick nod to Jaa before walking towards the children. 

“Feemor?” Jinn’s voice echoed like a gong in the suddenly silent hanger. Feemor had stiffened, as did Cin. Cin seemed to say something to Feemor, who had immediately started ushering the boys towards Jaa and the exit that led to the guard quarters. Jango had picked Ben up in his arms, and the little monster wrapped his arms and legs around Jango like a front backpack. 

“Feemor!” Jinn called, reaching out towards Feemor’s retreating back, as if to pull on his robes, but was blocked by Cin. “Get out of my way Cin. Feemor!”

“Fee, what’s going on?” Jango asked, peeking back at the adults, as they neared Jaa. 

“I’ll explain later. Lets get to the aran’e’yaim… Do you want me to cary Ben’ika?”

“Nayc. I’m his ori’vod, kaysh’ner” Jango mumbled as they passed. Jaa watched as his grip had seemed tightened a little more around Ben. 

Jaa looked back towards the ‘masters’ and wanted to groan again. 

Take two it was.

“Cease hostilities!” He commanded loudly, hand grabbing his saber and holding it out, not yet ignited. 

Jinn was grabbing Cin by his tabards, and was right up in his face. The dick’s face was near purple in anger. Master Thal had a hand on his shoulder trying to hold him back. Dooku just looked… condescending, actually. And Vosa… well she looked far too entertained. 

Kriff

Jaa needed a raise.

They used to sleep in a pile in their karyai. Ben always liked to curl up on Buir’s chest, falling asleep to the rumble of Buir’s voice and the beating of his heart. Jango wrapped tightly in one of Buir’s arms, pressed against his side. Buir would never complain about his arm falling asleep, but Jango knew it had to, stars knew the number of times Myles fell asleep on his arm and it took ages to get the pins and needles to go away.

Before Ben came. When Yen’buir was still with them. He hated their karyai. He had tried to fight against them. Always yelling and snapping. He’d hit Jas’buir and Yen’buir several times. But they always tried to make sure he felt safe.  

And he did. 

He had felt safe. 

Yen’buir used to have to wrangle him into sleeping in the karyai. His many nightmares had to have taken a toll on her health, but she always brushed it off, sleepily lifting the blanket so he could squeeze between the two of them. It wasn’t the sound of Jas’buir telling stories that had lulled him to sleep. It was the sound of Yen’buir’s low, contented, purring. Her low murmurs of comfort brought safety.  He had accepted Jas’buir because he came with Yen’buir.

He had felt so safe. 

So loved. 

And then Yen’buir marched ahead, leaving them behind. Leaving Ben behind for them. Jango loved Ben. 

Ben was the light in the dark time. 

A hope. 

A piece of Yen’buir. 

It always hurt to hear Ben cry. 

It hurt because he was the ori’vod now. Ben had been so, so, small when he was born. And then he kept fading . Ben was his to keep safe and happy, and he was failing at that. 

He wanted to comfort him.

He wanted to assure his vod’ika that everything would be okay, but the words kept dying on his tongue. 

How could he say that everything would be okay when everything was falling apart. When Jas’buir marched ahead of them. When Ben was now almost as old as he was when he lost his first buir’e. Not only was their Buir marching ahead, but he was their aliit’alor, their Mand’alor . Jas’buir was the driving force behind the Haat mando’ade. 

Their buir was gone and their leader. They were lost. A ship set adrift in space with a broken hyperdrive. 

They had aliit, sure. A few distant relatives. Ba’vodu Goran, was there as much as he could as the Goran be Coruscanta. But their clan was small. Jango and Ben only really had each other. And what could Jango offer when he was only 3 years past her Verd’goten? He was an adult, sure, but even the Jedi barely considered him old enough. They only considered him old enough to sign the contract in place of Buir. Sign away years of service for the chance his vod’ika would be safe. 

Everything was changing. And changing so fast that Jango didn’t know if he could keep up with it. 

Ben buried his face into Jango’s chest and his heart tightened. This was his first funeral. He squeezed Ben, and pressed a kiss to the top of Ben’s head. 

“ Motir ca'tra nau tracinya. Gra'tua cuun hett su dralshy'a. Cuun hett su… ” the mando'ade softly chanted as their Buir’s body joined the stars. He stared openly at the flames, watching. It was too peaceful. So opposite of what Buir’s passing was like. Jango hoped that had a short memory, or that he’d one day forget what it sounded like for his buir to choke on his own blood. He tried to shot at the retreating ship when he raced to Buir’s side, trying to kill Montross as he fled. Jango tightened his hold around Ben. 

“I’ll avenge Buir, Ben’ika. I’ll get revenge on Kyr’tsad and that aruetii.” Jango promised softly into Ben’s hair. It was the least he could do. Revenge for taking away Ben’s buir. Revenge for making them both orphans. His vod’ika stiffened, little fingers digging into him.

“Don’t.” Ben whispered.

“What?”

“Don’t chase revenge, ori’vod. Please.” Ben looked up, eyes looking purple in the firelight. He gripped tighter. “Please, Jango. Don’t leave me too.”

“I’m not leaving, Ben’ika.”

“You’ll be lost if you chase after revenge. Please . I can’t lose you too. Not you. You have to come back. You have to. It doesn’t matter how long it takes, just… always come back. No matter what. Even if we’re both gray and wrinkly and old. You always have to come back.” Ben finished in a whisper, eyes watering. Jango frowned and nodded.

“I promise. Ben. Haat, ijaa, haa'it. I’ll always come back for you Ben’ika. Always .” Jango hugged him tightly, leaning down to burry his face in Ben’s fluffy hair and hide him away in his arms. They stood there, together, for a long time before Jango pulled back. 

“Come on vod’ika. They’re going to celebrate Buir. there’s going to be some brawling, lots of drinking for the older folks, and stories about buir.” Jango said, taking Ben’s hand and pulling him away from the pyre to join some of the others. Ben followed along to a group that was obviously storytelling. Kal was standing, gesturing widely as he spoke. As they approached several shifted, making room for them to sit. Almost as soon as Jango’s shebs hit the seat, Myles was next to him pulling Ben into his lap. 

“Su’cuy, Myles.” Ben whispered, clonking his head against Myles’ with more force than was needed. 

“Su cuy’gar, Ben’ika. You’ll snuggle with me for story time won’t you?” Myles asked, his red eyes squinting as he smiled and winked at Jango. 

“Wayii! That’s my vod’ika, Myles, not yours.” Jango hissed, trying to grab Ben from his grasp. Myles shifted Ben around so that Jango couldn’t grab him. 

“I don’t have a cute vod’ika. Let me borrow yours.” Myles whined, and miracle of miracles, Ben giggled. 

“Ugh, fine! One story, then I want my Vod’ika back!” Jango grumbled and settled down as Kal started spinning a tale he hadn’t heard before about his buir. 

One story turned to two, then three. Until Ben was laying across them both fast asleep. Jango had a small smile on his face as he listened to one of the old ori’ramikad animatedly told the story of the time Buir had nearly started a full blown war when he tripped down a mountain into a royal wedding. 

His legs were going numb. The weight on them, hard and heavy. He wasn’t sure if he could feel his toes anymore. But he couldn’t let go though, he couldn’t let buir go. 

“Jango?” 

Jango jolted, a full body flinch, as he blinked. The weight was Ben. The voice was Ben. Ben was in his lap, looking up with worry in his eyes. Ben reached up and touched his cheek. His hand was still warm. Fingers still soft from youth, not the callouses Buir had. Jango tugged on him, pulling him from Myles and wrapped around him. Ben was breathing, his heart was beating heavily against his chest. Ben was breathing. Ben was alive and here, and Buir was not. 

“Jango.” a new voice called out to him. Jango looked up, Ba’vodu was crouching near them. He tipped his head to the side and back. 

The goran wanted to speak. 

Reluctantly Jango made to slide Ben back to Myles but Ba’vodu shook his head. Okay then, Ben came with. Jango slid from the crowd, carrying Ben in his arms and followed the goran into the forge. It was warm and quiet in the forge. Ben lit up immediately, wiggling in Jango’s arms to get set down. As soon as his feet hit the floor he was off wandering. Open curiosity at the forge and all the tools the goran used. He was respectful though, and didn’t touch anything. Ba’vodu stood next to Jango, quietly watching.

“How much do we owe for the funeral?” Jango asked quietly. 

“Jaster already took care of that, Jango. You don’t need to worry about it.”

Jango sighed and nodded. 

“Jaster made sure things were prepared for this. This data chip contains the information on the holdings of House Mereel, along with all it’s finances, properties, and contracts. He included which houses and clans we have alliances and feuds with.”

Jango’s brows creased and looked at the offered data chip with confusion and scepticism. 

“Why are you giving that to me?” Jango asked, not taking it. 

“Even if Jaster had not named you specifically, the clans under house Mereel have voted for you as our Alor.”

“What?” Jango hissed, leaning in close. “What? I’m… I’m 16?!”

“I’m glad you remember how old you are.” Ba’vodu said dryly. “We all knew what we were doing. Your age means little. You are an adult. You’re mandokarla like he was. We want you as our Aliit’alor, Jango.”

Hesitantly he took the data chip, rolling it in his fingers. This… This was a lot. He clipped it into his belt, patted it to make sure it was secure. 

“Was that it?” Jango asked.

“No. He wanted me to ask you first, do you want any of his armor reforged for yours?”

“I- No. No, I don't need his armor for my own.”

“He figured as much. I will save his armor for Ben’ayan. He wanted you to have this, he knew you preferred tracy'uur, but you should always make sure you have a kal on you.” The goran handed him a kal made of beskar that, if his kom’rk were adjusted, would fit perfectly. Jango rolled it in his hand, feeling the weight of the blade, the balance. Buir always was far better with the kal than he was. 

“Ben please be careful!” Jango called over, spotting his vod’ika had become a little too curious with the switches for the forge. He didn’t know what they did, only the goran or their hibir were allowed to know how beskar was forged. Ba’vodu was a patient man, but he did not want to find out what would happen if Ben broke the forge by accident. Ben jumped back with a sheepish smile before sneaking his way over to an weapons rack filled with kal of different sizes and styles. Jango shook his head. 

“I have also forged these, according to his specifications. One is for you, the other Ben’ayan. It is made from his ka’rta beskar, because his heart is left behind with the both of you.” the goran handed him something small. “I can get a beskar chain necklace for you if that’s something you’d be interested in, or I can attach it to your beskar.” 

Jango looked closely at it. It was the symbol he was familiar with, Yan’buir used to paint it on the doors of their yaim, and on the airlocks of any ship Jas’buir had at the time. She said it was a protective symbol from her people. 

“Necklace,” Jango coked out and quickly cleared his throat. “A necklace, please.” 

“I thought so. That is what I had for Ben’ayan. I have a box for each of you as well. I’m not sure what is in it. I promised him to keep it sealed. There’s a DNA code to access it, so it is keyed to each of you. They’re quite large, I’m sure you can get those Jetii’Aran’e to assist you carrying them back to your apartment.”

“Vor entye” Jango whispered, looking at the two large boxes the goran gestured to. They looked more like armor crates. He would really need help carrying them.

“N’entye, Jango Fett. One last thing, come.” The goran led Jango back out of the forge, Ben scurrying after them a second later, latching back onto Jango’s arm. 

The second they stepped out Jango froze. Everyone was gathered around just outside the forge. Every head of a clan, even those who were voted as a house alor, every influential mando’ade. 

“Well, I got first dibs!” Kal Skirata chuckled, stepping forward and dropped to his knees in front of Jango. 

“Ba’jur bal beskar’gam. Ara’nov, aliit, Mando’a bal Mand’alor” Kal Skirata recited with a grin, and Jango felt the blood leave his face. 

“Kal, what-”

“I swear to teach those who come how to be mando’ade. I will wear my beskar’gam with pride. I will defend myself, and my clan from harm. I will contribute to the welfare of our tribe however I can. When you call us to rally I will answer your call.” Kal continued, banging his fist on his chest. Jango sputtered, but didn’t have time to respond when Myles dropped next, repeating Kal’s oath. 

Then another.

And another. 

They all swore to him. 

“Oya Manda!” Kal shouted

“Oya!” everyone echoed

Well…

Kriff him

Jango raised his fist “Oya!”

“What’s in it?” Ben asked, poking at the box his ori’vod said was his, his new medallion swaying from his neck. 

“Nakar'mir” Jango shrugged, pulling his to the ‘bedroom’ that he kept his personal effects in. “take it to your room and check it out.” He suggested  over his shoulder. 

Ben grunted and tried to push it. It was heavy. He heaved, and tried to get the big box to move. He wasn’t sure what was in there, but it had to be like 3 sets of full beskar’gam, and maybe a hyperdrive. Ben grunted and whined. 

“Just use your space magic, Ben’ika! What are you learning here?” Jango called from his personal room. 

“I’m not supposed to just use it whenever!” Ben whined. 

“Well I’m tellin ya to use it, so do it yourself!” 

Ben groaned and reached out, touching the box gently in the force, feeling it and learning it. Then he lifted slowly, like it was a ball. He had to keep his eyes closed, so he could concentrate. But he guided it through the karyai and down the hall into the room buir used to keep the toys and trophies he found for Ben on his missions. Once it was inside the room and lowered at the foot of his bed he poked at it. A sensor came up for him to press his finger in and when he did the box clicked open. 

There were a few wrapped presents, one said ‘Ben 13’, another ‘Ben verd’goten’, and other such notes. But what caught his interest was what looked like a holocron. He pulled it out and rolled it around in his hands before concentrating on it. 

Meditating on it.

Meditating on his buir. 

He remembered his buir. 

What he sounded like.

The rumble of his voice.

The beating of his heart like a war drum. 

It clicked.

“Hello there little one. This is entry number one.”

His Buir’s voice filled the room and Ben’s head snapped up. 

It was a holo projection of Buir. He was sitting, wearing his loungewear, a loose tunic and comfortable trousers. He looked tired. Dark circles under his eyes and his shoulders slumped as if he were wearing his armor and still carried more weight on top of it. He looked tired . He rubbed his face with both hands, not looking up for a few silent moments. His shoulders moved with each heavy deep breath as he took a few moments to gather his thoughts. Finally, he looked up and gave a broken watery smile. 

“You’re asleep right now, just off recording view, with your brother. I think the two of you were playing a bit too hard. Out like a light, I don’t think a full bombardment would wake either of you.”

He chuckled and shook his head, before the smile fell and he sighed. Ben’s jaw dropped and he leaned forward. 

“I have spoken with Guard Feemor, he informed me of the nature of your visions… I pray that it never comes to pass, and that you don’t remember them, but you have your mother’s memory, I know better than to think you’d forget.

I have decided to make as many of these recordings as I can, before I march far ahead. That way my words will be with you still, even after I march far ahead. 

If you are seeing this then the worst has happened and I am marching far ahead, but know this, my child, even if I march far ahead, I will still be looking back and watching you. I will be joined with the ruling council of fallen kings, so I will always be with you.

I am making some of these holos for your brother, but I have had time with him that I haven’t had with you. I have taught him things that I haven’t been able to teach you yet. So I will be doing my best to cover everything I can for you. 

But in this message there is just one thing I want you to know and keep in your heart. I love you eternally. I have loved you since the moment your mother told me she was carrying you inside her. I loved you the moment I held you in my arms. Every sleepless night, every gray hair brought by worry, in everything I have loved you eternally with all my heart. You are my child. I have and always will love you. I am sorry I have marched ahead, but I will never be gone, because my love for you and your brother keep me tied to your soul.” 

Tears fell freely from his eyes as he looked into the holo. He smiled and swallowed hard enough to make his adam’s apple bob. Ben wanted to reach out and wipe the tears away like Buir did for him. He wanted to crawl into his Buir’s lap and forget everything that happened. 

“Now I am going to go and cuddle with my sleeping sons, and leave the rest for another day. 

I love you Ben’ayan, Maybe we'll meet again.”

Chapter Text

Chapter 7: the coming end

Entry #2

Jaster was sitting on the edge of a bed, looking more tired than the holo before. He wore partial armor, his helmet set to the side. 

“Hello there, little one. It has… It has been a hard day. You and your brother are playing with Guard Feemor and Guard Leader Cin at the moment. It has given me time to do this, and to calm. Find my center, as guard leader calls it. I have come from a meeting with the Jedi seer who is on the council. He’s the reason Guard Feemor knows how to help you when you get them. The Jedi seer explained to me what types of visions there are, and which ones you are susceptible to. It was all very… complex. Guard Feemor was very helpful, in explaining the appearance and frequency of the visions to the Seer. Based on indicators, he believes you to be the same. A true seer. That what you see will come to pass, with little chance of variation. Feemor says your visions can be symbolic in nature or literal, depending on what the force wills.”

Jaster sighed and leaned forward, hands covering his face. 

“There is a chance that I may yet change the fate you have seen for me, but there is very little that can be done to change it. There is a traitor who will lead me to my death. I can only hope that your brother will yet be spared from the heartache of watching it happen. I can only hope that the two of you will heal from it. I do not leave you light hearted. My heart is heavy with the grief I will bring you. I do not want to leave my children, not for a long, long while.” 

Jaster sighed again and sat back upright. He simply sat there for a while before cracking a grin. 

“I have spoken with Feemor. Last night I had extended the offer to have him join our house, but with my imminent demise I have asked if he would join our clan. Our clan of three is already so small, it would give me comfort to know that there would be one more member. I made it clear I wasn’t trying to steal him from Cin, though I wouldn’t be against it. Maybe I should extend the offer to Cin if that’s what it takes? That kid has the right stuff, he would be a good child of Mandalore. He will meditate on it. I plan on making my arrangements after this, make sure you and your brother will be taken care of after I am marching far ahead. Your brother may be past her verd’goten, but he is still my child and I will worry for him. It is my job as a parent.

7936.21.6

Everything was covered in white. Tall old pine trees barely bent under the heavy weight of snow on its branches. The bright sun reflected harshly against the snow. Everything there was harsh and cold, both the environment and the force.

 He felt like he was going to be sick, but didn’t know why. 

Everything felt like pain. 

The planet felt sick.

Cold and cracked.

Then he heard the drums.

War drums

Hard and heavy

Rhythmically beating in time with his heart pumping.

It didn’t come from the planet. It came from the sky above.

It came from the stars

The ground cracked and black goo bubbled from the rocks, rising. 

He ran

He climbed on rocks, searching for higher ground as the goo rose higher and higher. 

A creature rose from the black bubbles.

A large beak came forth

And then fire red eyes.

He screamed.

It was coming for him.

He tried to run

Tried to climb the biggest pine tree

It took to the air. 

Large leathery wings stirred up the air.

Its taloned feet grabbed him up. He screamed

It rose higher

Higher

And then the shriek hawk dropped him.

The air whistled in his ears even as the drums beat harder.

When he hit the ground everything fell silent

The force

The stars

Even the air itself. 

He landed on the snow

Cold

Barely yielding.

The cold burned his lungs. 

He coughed, and pulled himself to his knees. 

The white snow was red

Slowly he looked up

Destruction was all around.

Destruction and bodies

He choked

No

No

Nononononono

He knew these bodies

He knew the paint on their armor. 

He crawled forward on his hands and knees and dropped next to the nearest body. He pulled at the arm, tears blurring his vision. When he turned them over he almost vomited. Only half turned, the other remained bisected. His hands fumbled under the buy’ce trying to force it off. 

Hoping in all vain that it wasn’t him

Deep blue skin was revealed

Familiar silky black hair buzzed close to his scalp

And wide unseeing red eyes stared up at him.

He bit back the sob

Myles

There was a familiar snap hiss and his blood felt as cold as the snow. 

He looked up as the green lightsaber swung.

Ben came aware with a choked scream. He rolled over in his cot and slowly sat up. He was covered in a layer of sweat, hair plastered to his skin. He heaved for breath, to calm his beating heart, ease his presence in the force. 

A pillow sailed across the room and smacked him in the face. He blinked.

Narrow ice blue eyes glared at him from across the room. 

Bruck.

Ben sighed and stood on shaking feet.

If he woke Bruck up it was best to go elsewhere to find his balance. It would only be a matter of seconds before Bruck tried to pick a fight, then everyone would be up. 

He slipped from the room, feet still bare, and wandered into the hall. 

He felt cold. It might have been from the snow in the vision lingering. A shudder ran up his spine. His jaw was sore and gums hurt, probably from clenching his teeth so tightly. He rubbed his jaw and sighed.

It was quiet, as it usually was during the night cycle. Most masters weren’t nocturnal, or sleepless, so the usually bustling halls were empty and silent. The lights in the corridors were dimmed to be easier on any eyes. Shadows leaked in every corner.  Ben walked, and walked, weaving around the corridors with ease. 

There was a throat clearing and Ben froze. 

He turned slowly, face going pink. 

“Su’cuy Aran Kakovidir.” Ben grinned. 

When Aran Kakovidir didn’t respond he lowered his gaze and stared at the floor. He bit his lip and waited. The aran sighed. 

“I had a vision. It woke Bruck up.” Ben whispered, toeing the floor. Then he looked up. “Can I go to my room?”

The aran’s faceless mask stared at him for a moment before he raised his Kom’rk, tapped it, and started walking. Ben followed after him, and then after a moment of hesitation, took his hand. He felt Kakovidir stiffen, his whole hand twitched like he wanted to pull away. His presence in the force curled inward and slowly Ben relieved his hand. 

He forgot Aran Kakovidir didn’t like younglings, even Ben. 

“N'eparavu takisit” Ben whispered, tucking his hands close to his stomach like some of the masters did when they wore their robes. 

Something touched his head and Ben looked up, shocked. 

Aran Kakovidir was standing closer, gently patting his head… kind of robotically. 

Well… at least he was trying?

Aran Kakovidir walked with him towards the Aran’e’yaim entrance, and waited for Ben to slip inside before continuing his patrol. 

Hopefully it wouldn’t end up in a report… right? Master Cin didn’t like it when he wandered at night, and would scold him in the morning. But the temple was safe. He didn’t get near the outside, which was where it was dangerous for him to be alone. 

“Ben, what are you doing here?” La’men shouted and Ben winced, knowing every off duty eye in the common area was now on him.

“Couldn’t sleep. Didn’t want Bruck to fight with me and wake everyone. Bant is mean when she doesn’t get sleep.” Ben mumbled, staring at the ground. There was a ripple of something in the force around them, but Ben didn’t know what it was. Finally La’men walked up to him and swung an arm over Ben’s shoulders. 

“Well kid, it’s a bit late for you to be eating Tiingilar, I think. But I’ve got some uj'alayi from Keldab’ika and some cassius tea.” La’men offered, leading Ben towards his sacred kitchen. Ben paused outside the doors to the kitchen and looked down

“La’men I don’t have shoes on.” 

“Mmm… That is a problem. No shoes, no kitchen, them’s the rules, well same with shirts, but thats different. Lets see…” La’men pondered, his lekku curled and uncurled as he thought. Then he grinned. He leaned down like it was a secret and Ben perked up.

“How bout you run off to your apartment, I’ll whip up the snack and bring it to you?” He offered.

Ben smiled and nodded. 

“You want company or want to try to sleep after your snack?” La’men asked. Ben thought about it, he did. But… the karyai was his space. His space away from everything in the temple.

“Not tonight, thank you.”

“Alrighty then kiddo, go get settled, I’ll bring you the snack.” La’men pushed him back towards the common space and slid inside his kitchen. 

He kept to himself, nodding to a few of the off duty Aran’e as he made his way towards his apartment. It was his more than anything now. Buir and Jango used to talk about their Yaim, back home. Ben remembered it a bit, but now this was what yaim looked like. In a corridor of plain beige, and plain doors, there was his door. Reliable bright blue, outlined in shereshoy orange. He and Jango pressed handprints in gray on either side of the door, and right in the middle in red, the symbol they now wore around their neck. The protection symbol. 

Ben touched the symbol on the door before palming the door open and sliding in. He turned the lights on low and pulled out the pillows and blankets, making a nice nest in the karyai. He pulled out a snack tray and set it in the nest, making sure it wouldn’t tip and then, after a moment of hesitation, pulled out the holo projector. 

His door chimed and Ben bounced up and to the door.

“Here ya go kiddo, all warm and ready. Make sure to rest up, lek?”

“Lek, La’men. Vor’e!” Ben took the tray and bobbed a head.

“Jate’ca, Ben’ika” La’men ruffled his hair. 

“Jate’ca”

The door slid shut and he took the try to his snack tray in the karyai. Once he was nestled up and burrowed into his little nest. He turned the holo projector on and sipped at his tea. He came across this recording early on, and he loved it. Buir had a whole set of them for when he couldn’t sleep. He wasn’t sure how long he worked on it, but he was thankful.

His buir came on the projector and he bit back a sob. He missed his buir, still. It still hurt like a fresh wound. After all this time, he thought it would scab over, but it never did. 

“You, my child, should be asleep. Hmm? Why are you awake, my child?”

Buir’s deep voice made his heart ache. Buir was sitting down, looking at him with concern. His eyes watered immediately, and he used the force to pull over a blanket that still smelled like buir. He snuggled into it, pressing his nose into the fabric. 

“I had a vision Buir, it was scary.” Ben mumbled.

“Have you meditated? I am told by the Jedi seer that meditation can help.”

“I tried buir, but it woke Bruck up. And if I stayed he’d fight with me, and then everyone would wake up.”

“Well, you’re here, so I will trust you know what you need to do to center yourself. Shall I tell you a story to help you sleep, my child.”

Ben curled up, and nodded. His father’s voice filled the room as he wove through the story about Mand’alor the first. He heard the story dozens of times, and didn’t really want to think of it. Instead he closed his eyes and let it help him drift off to sleep. 

“Don’t chase revenge.”

“I’m not leaving” 

“I can’t lose you”

His ori’vod was taller now, his shoulders strong and broad like buir. He donned his beskar’gam with pride, but the yellow on it stood out like an ugly scar. 

Revenge.

Always revenge. 

He turned his back on Ben, pulling his buy’ce on as he started walking away. 

Ben chased after him, hand reaching out for his belt. A tether to his ori’vod. But each time his hand grabbed his ori’vod was just out of reach.

“Ori’vod don’t leave me.” Ben begged.

“I’m not leaving.” Jango said, not turning back. 

The landscape changed with each step, but Ben refused to be left behind, chasing after his ori’vod like a strill on a scent.

Then a shriek hawk flew past them, and it turned into a large mando in kyr’tsad colors and a saber on his hip. Somehow Ben knew the man was grinning at Jango, mocking him. 

Jango took the bait. 

He charged.

“Jango don’t!”

“He needs to die! For Buir!” Jango shouted, chasing him.

Ben ran after him, trying all he could to stop his brother. 

Then they came to a cliff. 

The mando flipped Jango a rude gesture and jumped from the cliff with his jetpack. 

“Jango don’t you have a jetpack you can’t!”

“He needs to die!”

“Don’t-” Ben screamed but Jango jumped off the cliff. 

He raced to the edge, fingers missing his ori’vod by inches. Below was a mass of darkness. An empty void. 

7936.22.6

Cin watched the initiate class with narrow eyes. 

The initiates were all getting to that age where they were really looking for a master, if they hadn’t had one already. The Kybuck clan was scheduled to head to Illum in two months for the gathering, and then things would really get interesting. 

Armed younglings. 

Joy of all joys.

If Cin had it his way the little ones wouldn’t get a proper lightsaber until they were chosen as a padawan, but it wasn’t his choice. Instead he watched as Master Sinube lectured the younglings on the importance of lightsaber safety. 

Your lightsaber is your life.

Most of them looked bored.

Which was understandable, because to them Master Sinube seemed older than even Master Yoda.

But what really had his attention was Ben. 

He looked more bored than the others, which in his defense was understandable. Weapons safety was driven into him from a very young age. After all, Mandos were walking arsonals, with more blasters, knives, missiles, and who knows what else than could be easily seen on their person. Little hands needed to know that yes weapons can be fun, but they are not toys. They revered weapons and armor, beskar and self-defense. 

Ben had been excited months ago at the news of getting to make his own lightsaber, but that excitement had ebbed. Ben was not allowed to go without the explicit approval of the goran and his aliit’alor. The goran’s t-visor stared at him blankly for several moments when he was asked before tipping in Ben’s direction. 

“Alor’ika, me'copaani? Jetii'kad?” 

Ben perked up and nodded “Elek!”

“Let the ad have a lightsaber.”

And that was the end of what the goran had to say. 

Jango’s approval had been more difficult. Mostly because it had been nearly a year since he visited, and their transmissions for the past few months had gone unanswered. Without Jango’s permission, it was looking more and more likely that Ben would not be attending the gathering with his clan. 

Cin was angry, naturally. 

Jango was Ben’s brother, and kriff it all, the boy looked up to his older brother like he hung the sky and stars. Always had. He clung closer to him after Jaster died. Each week without contact was like watching the boy slowly wither. 

His visions were getting more and more frequent, and his openness about them had disappeared after Jaster. He trained harder and more fervently on his shielding. He sought comfort after them less often. It didn’t pass Cin’s notice when Ben would have short visions in saber classes, moments when his gaze went far, when he reacted more instinctually than what initiates usually  did when answering to the force’s prompting. 

He received Jaa’s report first thing in the morning. Jaa came across Initiate Kenobi late the night before wandering the corridors in his sleep clothes. When Jaa approached him the child claimed he had a vision and it woke another initiate. Then he asked if he could go to his room. After a moment of deliberation, and a confirmation message from the patrol by the creche that the masters weren’t looking for the youngling, escorted the boy to the guard quarters and saw him safely inside. 

He received a few private messages after the report came in, just giving him the heads up that Ben was breaking his fast with the guard before going to class. La’men mentioned that even though the boy broke fast with them, he barely ate. 

But now, looking at him, something was off with the boy.  Something more than usual.

He had dark circles under his eyes, and a layer of sweat that had no right to be there. He also looked a tad too pale. Padawan Vos nudged Initiate Eerin out of his way to slide up next to Ben. He was discrete, Cin praised his skills to act without notice, as he pressed a hand to Ben’s neck. He whispered something to Ben who only shook his head, and jutted his chin towards their lecturing master. 

Cin frowned and made a mental note to pull Ben aside after the lesson. 

An hour later, Cin didn’t need to approach the youngling, because Padawan Vos shooed away the other initiates and dragged Ben over to him by his arm.

“Master Drallig, Obi’s sick.” Vos said looking up at him like he could do something about it. Cin held back the sigh he felt as he bent down to feel Ben’s forehead. It was burning to the touch and slick with sweat. 

“When did this start?” Cin asked.

Ben shrugged, not looking at Cin. His hand moved to pinch Ben’s chin to force him to look up. When he rose his brows the boy sighed. 

“I woke up feeling off.” Ben mumbled. “Thought it was because of the visions.”

“You are burning a fever, off to the halls with you.” Cin ordered.

Ben groaned, and Cin shot him an unimpressed look. 

“I’ll make sure he gets there, Master. Thanks!” Vos grabbed Ben and was pulling him away before the words caught up with him. 

This time he did sigh. 

He shot off a message to the teachers for the day that Initiate Kenobi was being taken to the halls of healing by Padawan Vos and to excuse them from class until cleared by a healer. Then he pulled up a private chat.

C: Thought you should know your kid’s skipping classes to take his friend to the healers

T: …

T: Am I to assume you mean Initiate Kenobi?

C: Yes. Though Vos looked a little too excited to have a reason to drag Kenobi off.

T: Those two are stuck at the hip I swear. Always up to something.

T: Thank you for the notice

T: Think I can convince the council to let me have two padawans? My padawan seems far too invested in dragging Obi-Wan everywhere anyways

C: doubt it

C: and he’s mine before yours

T: I’ll share custody

C: No

7936.29.6

Feemor sat rubbing Ben’s back as he heaved into the healer supplied bucket. Ben lasted less than a day in the halls before he started trying to sneak out. The poor cleaning droids had to be put in the vents to clean up the mess Ben left after he sicked up in his third escape attempt. 

Healer Che finally took mercy on… everyone, and let Ben retire to his apartment under a strict supervisory rule. There had to be at least one adult with him at all times. Feemor did his best to make sure it was him, but like before, Ben was popular enough to earn a rotation of willing guards to sit at his sick bed. Not that Ben ever actually used a bed. 

It was an apartment, there were three rooms in the apartment, each had a decent sized bed. Did he use any of the rooms to sleep in? 

No. 

Instead the main area of the apartment had pillows, sleep mats, and blankets piled up like a great nest, and that's where the child slept. Feemor assumed it was a cultural thing that they weren’t told of, since Ben just seemed confused as to why he’d sleep in a closed room when there was the karyai. 

It made things easier to take care of the kid though. 

Che wasn’t sure what was wrong. Not exactly. Besides the face Ben could not keep anything down, to a worrying degree. But what came up wasn’t only stomach acid or food. Tests Che ran came back with venom. Concentrated venom.

The poor kid was all snot and tears whenever he was awake. Since his first vomit, he only kept asking for two people. 

First, and most naturally, he kept crying for his father. 

Second, he wanted his brother. 

Cin called the goran, who came by when he could, rubbing the kid’s back and whispering soothing words in mando’a. He also called Jango. Multiple times. None of them went through. So the goran agreed to do what he had to to get the Mand’alor to the temple for his vod’ika. 

“I want Jango” Ben whined before gagging on vomit and bending over the bucket. 

“I know, Ben’ika, I know.” Feemor soothed, rubbing the kid’s back. Once Ben was done, he pulled out the cold wet cloth he kept in a chilled water basin and pressed it against Ben’s neck. 

He nearly jumped out of his skin when the door to the apartment opened without warning.

To his surprise it was Jango, being hauled in by the scruff of his kute by the fully armored goran and a strange creature circling around his feet. 

“Baatir gar vod’ika, Mand’alor.” the goran growled as he threw Jango into the room and closed the door. Jango stumbled to his feet, almost tripping over the creature. Then he pulled off his buy’ce and blinked, looking confused before his face went pale. 

“Ben’ika! What’s wrong?” Jango shouted, rushing over. 

Said child opened his mouth to answer only to turn green and heave into the bucket.

“Your brother’s been sick.” Feemor said, rubbing Ben’s back. “We tried contacting you, to no avail.”

Jango hovered over Ben, worriedly running his hands over Ben’s shoulders and head. The creature also barreled over, licking, nearly knocking Feemor over to get to Ben. It nosed Ben’s hands, forcing its wide head into Ben’s hands. 

“I’m so sorry Ben. I’m here now.” Jango pressed a kiss to Ben’s sweaty forehead. Then he looked to Feemor. “What’s he sick with?”

“The healers aren’t sure. He can’t keep anything down, but what comes up also includes large amounts of venom.”

“You think this is a biology thing?” Jango asked. 

“We don’t know. Possibly?” Feemor ventured. 

“I’ll go see if Buir left anything in his records about this.” Jango stood and went straight for one of the rooms. The creature whined and started licking Ben’s face. Feemor’s nose scrunched. Whatever the creature was, it smelled foul, especially as it opened its mouth to lick at Ben, who wavered between moaning in pain and giggling. Feemor sighed and pressed the cold cloth to Ben’s neck. 

“Your ori’vod’s here now, Ben’ika. All’s going to be alright.” Feemor soothed quietly. Ben didn’t respond more than a pained moan as he threw up into the bucket. 

“So, what is this creature that your Ori’vod brought in with him?” Feemor asked, reaching to pet the leathery skin of the creature. As soon as his hand was within inches of the thing it snarled at him. Ben moved from hugging the bucket to hugging the creature who happily scrambled its six legs to get closer to Ben. He could hear Jango cursing as he dug through his belongings. After a minute the door to the room closed leaving Feemor and Ben in silence. 

“Lord Isa.” He mumbled pressing his face onto the top of the creature’s head. “He’s our strill.”

“What’s a strill? A pet?” 

“Hmm… yeah. Strill’s a mandalorian hunting animal. Isa had been Buir’s ba’buir’s when he was little.”

“He must be very old.”

“No really. Strill live very long. Like really long.” Ben whispered, pressing his face into Lord Isa’s gray fur. It panted like a pup happily as its tail swished back and forth. 

“Want me to put something on the holo?” He asked. Ben nodded tiredly and hugged the strill tighter. Feemor grabbed the remote and turned it onto some holo-drama, and grinned.

“Hey Ben, do you want to know a secret?” 

Ben’s head tilted and looked up at him with wide eyes.

“Master Windu, loves the theater. Cannot get enough of it. Especially dramas. I know for a fact, he has watched this series multiple times.” Feemor grinned.  

Ben snickered and leaned against one of the pillows, eyes sparkling as he watched the drama. Lord Isa curled up around Ben, lazily licking at him. Knowing that the creature was looking over Ben he took the time to get up and see if Ben could keep a glass of water down, and take the meds Che prescribed. Feemor puttered around the mini kitchen, keeping an ear out for Ben as he moved around. He heard the door open again and whispering before he came from the kitchen. Jango was sitting on the floor in front of Ben, running a hand through Ben’s hair. 

“Aran Feemor, can you get some juice? Something sweet and cold? And a bowl of tiingilar, if there’s any?” Jango requested. Feemor raised an eyebrow. 

“I can get the juice… but I don’t think the tiingilar would be good-”

“Buir said the spice might actually settle his stomach some.” 

Feemor nodded slowly and handed Ben the glass of water and meds. His nose scrunched but he took it quickly, gaging slightly. Then he left, heading to the kitchens with a frown. Something was up, and he didn’t know what. 

“How’s the kid?” La’men asked when he approached the kitchen window. 

“Sick as a dog, still. Jango’s here, thinks juice and tiingilar would help.”

“Tiingilar? Really? Huh, mandos are weird. Wouldn’t want that to come back up, but whatever. I’ve got a pot going.” La’men grunted and disappeared into the kitchen. 

The force tingled as he waited, anticipatory. He tilted his head and reached for it. It bounced around him like an excited animal, dancing just out of reach every time he tried to figure it out. 

Hurry.

So as soon as he received a pitcher of juice and a large bowl of tiingilar he made his way back to the Mereel apartment. Cin had come from the other direction and raised an eyebrow when they met in front of the door. 

“Juice and stew?” 

“Jango asked for it.” Feemor shrugged. “What are you doing here?”

“Jango messaged me, told me to come.”

“He’s up to something.” 

“Probably.” Cin grinned and pushed the door open. 

The boys were in the main room together. But the scene made them both pause. Jango had Ben huddled against the couch, hovering over him while holding his face. He had two thumbs rubbing over Ben’s teeth while he whined and wiggled trying to get free. Lord Isa paced around the two, unsure what to do. 

“Stop moving, this’ll help.” Jango hissed. 

“I ont ant ur fumbs” Ben whined trying to get away, teeth snapping. 

“Don’t bite!”

“Do I want to ask?” Cin asked. 

Jango spun around, moving his hands from biting range. Carefully the Mand’alor extracted himself from his little brother, and took the juice pitcher, disappearing into the little kitchen. He never answered so Feemor just shook his head and handed to tiingilar to Ben. Ben slowly started munching, having to twist out of the way of the nosy strill who had become very interested in the meal. A second later Jango returned with two glasses of the juice. 

“Drink.” He ordered. Holding the glasses out to Cin and Feemor.

“I thought this was for Ben?” Feemor asked.

“It’s for you, drink.” He ordered again, forcing them in their hands. He disappeared back in the kitchen and returned with a third glass which he downed a second later. Feemor shot Cin a glance. He didn’t seem to notice, just shrugged and downed the glass like it was a cocktail. Feemor sighed and replicated. Cin started coughing and sputtering and a second too late he realized why. As soon as the sweet juice touched his tongue he knew something was wrong. There was a different flavor in it, something bitter… minty and slightly metallic in it. It burned as he swallowed and he coughed as soon as the glass was empty. The force seemed settled now. 

“What was in that?” Cin coughed. Jango winced and shuddered. 

“It is best not to think about it.” he mumbled, taking the empty glasses back to the sink

“But what was it?” Feemor asked. 

“It’ll mark you as family.”

Feemor stared at him, then looked at Ben, who was still happily munching at the tiingilar. 

Mark as family. 

The bucket was empty. 

“Jango… did I just drink Ben’s vomit?” He asked carefully and Jango’s nose wrinkled. 

“I told you not to think about it. It’s concentrated venom. It won’t kill you, it’s only a teaspoon or so. If you drink some each day for three weeks it’ll build your immunity to his venom, and the pheromones in it will mark you as family.”

“Wha-”

“It was his choice. I’ll stay for the next three weeks, to make sure Ben’s doing good, and to give you the proper dosage of venom.” 

Cin sighed, and pinched the bridge of his nose. Then he looked back to Ben who had laughed for the first time in months. He was on the floor, fighting with the strill over the bowl. Its large mouth and tongue chased after the bowl while Ben pushed at its face. 

“Do you remember it?” Jango asked, moving back into the main room. Ben looked up and smiled.

“‘Course.” 

“Really? You were really little last time you saw it.” 

“You used to put me on its back so I could ride it. You had to chase us one day in the yard cause we got out.” Ben grinned widely. 

“I’m surprised you remembered that. You were still a babe.” Jango murmured and sat down next to Ben. The two boys curled up on the pillows and turned their attention to the holo-drama. Ben leaned against Jango and in a few moments he was asleep peacefully against Jango, the strill laid across their laps.

Chapter Text

Chapter 8: Sha’kajir

7936.13.7

The wind whistled and howled in the silence. It smelled of pine and ozone. Each breath felt like an ice spike digging into nostrils. It was so cold. So very cold. 

“It’s time for you to uphold your end of the agreement.” A modulated voice growled “You’ve been harboring a murderer. You even funded his attempts to rebuild the death watch. Now, I want to know. WHERE. IS. VIZSLA?”

Jango

That was Jango’s voice. 

He turned, looking around, but all he saw was white. 

Snow

Snow all around.

He knew this place. He’d seen it before in his visions.

“He… He left kjfoedhfskd” A new voice answered, his voice garbled the location. 

“That’s not the right answer.” Jango scolded. “I killed your enemies. Now tell me where to find MINE!”

There was the sound of a Jetpack followed by blasterfire. The next thing he knew Jango crashed into the snow before him. 

“ORI’VOD!” He screamed. The snow was high, and he practically had to wade through it to get to Jango’s side. Each step he took, he barely got closer. 

It was taking too long

He wasn’t making any progress forward. 

Jango was fighting someone, and he couldn’t get closer. 

“Ori’vod!” He called, but Jango didn’t seem to hear him. 

Two objects fell from the sky and landed right in front of him. It took only a moment for him to scream. It was armor. Familiar grey blue and gold armor. Myles.

Jango screamed too. An angry roar.

Then it all went silent again. Jango was further away, on his knees. 

“You killed them.” Jango’s whisper carried in the howling wind. “You killed them all. We’re all dead.”

The world shifted and he tumbled out of the snow onto his hands and knees in murky water. He stood slowly and stared down into the water and blinked. The still water created a reflection, but it didn’t look quite like him. He was taller, and painfully thin, covered in layers of dirt and caked blood. In his trembling hands held a blaster rifle.

“You will suffer.” His reflection said and his heart clenched. Ratiin Trikar, always sadness. 

“I know.” He whispered, and the words rang true. He was going to suffer.

“Would you leave younglings behind to die?” His reflection asked.

“Never.” The question was offensive. He could never leave a youngling to die. Children were the future. He would be dar’manda if he even dared.

“This is the way.” the reflection said

“This is the way.” He echoed solemnly. The reflection rippled and two beings in full beskar’gam stood behind him. One figure he knew on instinct, the other was unfamiliar.

“You will suffer.” Buir said quietly, hand gripping the shoulder of his reflection. 

“Then I will suffer.”

“You will not be alone. We will guide you.” the other said, and it was then he noticed the weapon clipped on his belt. A Jetii’kad. “This is the way.”

Pain blossomed in his chest and blood dripped into the murky waters. 

The sound of war drums echoed around him and the reflection changed again. He was older, an adult now, with a full beard and jetii’kad clipped to his belt. He wore partial armor over Jedi robes, and behind him countless soldiers wearing white armor. His reflection looked tired and so sad. His eyes were a painful durasteel gray. Ratiin Trikar. 

“This is the way, Ben.” His reflection said. 

...

Ben jolted awake with a heavy weight on his chest and a striking smell in his nostrils. Isa was sitting on his chest, and golden eyes staring at him intently. It started licking his face almost immediately and Ben wrapped his arms around the old strill with a choked sob. It started its warbled purr, licking at him and rubbing against him in comfort. 

“Ben’ika, you okay?” Jango asked, coming from the mini kitchen with a frown. When Ben looked up at him with watery eyes Jango’s went wide “Ben, me'bana?

He shook his head and hugged Isa’s neck, burying his face in his soft gray fur. His ori’vod was a liar who lies. He was still chasing that hut’uun. 

“Ben?” Jango asked again, coming closer to the karyai, wiping his hands on a towel. Ben rubbed his face on Isa’s wide head and stood, going to his room without saying a word. He changed quickly into his initiate whites, and yanked his boots on before going to the fresher to do his morning ablutions. When he finished he grabbed his bag from his room and left the apartment. There was a noise from his ori’vod as he walked out the door, but Ben ignored him. He finally had permission to attend classes again and figured eating first meal with his crechemates would be the perfect start. He nodded to the off duty aran’e in the common space as he walked past.

“BEN!” Jango shouted after him, sounding affronted. He didn’t want to talk to his ori’vod. Not right now, but that option left as soon as Jango grabbed his arm and spun him around in the middle of the common area. 

“What’s going on, Ben’ayan?” Jango asked, tugging on his arm. 

“Tion’jor gar oya’larir?” Ben snapped, switching to Mando’a

“Me’van?” Jango dropped his arm and took a step back, but he started this. Ben took a step forward into Jango’s space.

“Gar su oya’larir kaysh. Tion’jor nayc gev?” Ben accused. 

Kaysh kyrayc cuun buir! Kaysh kyrayc ner aliit, ner buire, ner ori’vod. Kaysh linibar kyrayc. Ner linibar skira. Ner linibar gratiir kaysh.” Jango shouted back. He burned in the force like a brand. Deep hatred and anger roared like a kryat dragon. 

“And what are you willing to pay to chase after revenge? You promised me!”

“You don’t get it” Jango rolled his eyes. 

“ YOU don’t get it! Honor is understanding the fundamental difference between revenge and vengeance.” Ben shouted back, quoting buir’s codex. Jango flinched visibly and Ben rubbed his face. “ Please stop. Ni gedetir.”

“I can’t.” Jango whispered and Ben sighed. 

“I’m going eat first meal with my creche.” Ben mumbled and walked away. He could feel the eyes on him as he rushed from the aran’yaim. There was muffled peels of concern coming from some of the aran’e as he fled, but he did his best to ignore it entirely, wrapping the feeling of ‘leave me be’ around him. 

…

Classes were boring, but then again Ben didn’t really want to be there. He didn’t want to be anywhere. If he could he’d curl up on Buir and sleep, but that wasn’t an option anymore. Bant seemed to notice something was up, and stuck next to him continuously, holding his hand when she could. She was the best. 

When classes finally finished he walked with his friends to the room of a thousand fountains. He stayed next to Bant, listening as his friends talked about the last class, but keeping quiet. Then the next thing he knew he was on the ground, a familiar odor close to him, and the weight of six paws pressed against his back. His friends shouted in surprise, and some others made noises of disgust from the smell. 

“Is! Off!” Ben grunted. The strill moved off him only to attack him with licks. Ben laughed, and wrapped his arms around its neck. 

“Ew, Oafy-Wan, what is that thing?” He heard Bruck call over. Isa stiffened in his arms, sensing a potential threat. 

“Udessiir.” Ben whispered in Isa’s ear. Almost immediately its tail started wagging happily. 

“Did you hear me, Oafy-Wan?” Bruck mocked.

“Oh! Hey Ori’vod!” Quin greeted, and Ben looked up to see his ori’vod jogging down the hall in his disguise. 

“‘Sup Quin, Isa, olar.” Jango ordered Isa. Their old strill trotted over to him, tongue lolling out. It circled Jango before pushing him towards Ben. Ben quickly stood, and held out his hand for Isa to come back over. It did, sniffing his hand and demanding pets. 

“Can we talk?” Jango asked. He could feel the confusion and curiosity rolling off his friends. Ben bit his lip and shrugged. “Please? Sha’kajir.”

“Who are you?” Bruck demanded and Ben winced. He could feel Jango tense up. Then he heard the tapping. Jango tapped his foot very deliberately. Dadita. Asking if this was a hostile. 

“Who are you? ” Jango snarled in return. Hesitantly Ben reached out and took Jango’s arm. 

“Go away. Bruck.” Ben snapped before finally looking up at his brother. “Just ignore him, Ori’vod. Lets go.”

Jango didn’t move when Ben tugged on his arm. Instead he seemed to plant his feet further and stare down at Bruck menacingly. The white haired boy slowly started turning red in the face. 

“Ori’vod, he’s not worth it, let's go.” Ben tugged harder, and finally Jango relented, and let Ben drag him away while Bruck shouted after them. He sent a wave to his friends, trusting Quin to make up an excuse for Ben disappearing on them. Several turns down corridors and secret passages brought them into the aran’yaim, and then to their apartment. 

“What did you want to talk about?” Ben asked as soon as the front door closed. 

“I don’t want us to fight, vod’ika. Sha’kajir, please. I’m not here very often, and I don’t want us to be at odds when I am. Can’t we just… be? Please?”

“Are you going to keep hunting?”

“I can’t stop, Ben. I can’t . Please Ben.” Jango never begged. But the desperation and pain he leaked into the force was clear. Ben sighed, stepped forward and pressed his forehead against his brother’s chest. Jango wrapped his arms around him, and pressed his face into Ben’s hair. 

Sha’kajir.

7936.22.7

Feemor and Ben two kept shooting each other looks the entire trip into Keldab’ika. Jetii could communicate with their force, so Jango could only guess that’s what they were doing. His vod’ika had been gnawing on raw meat all day trying to figure out how to get his fangs to drop when he wanted them to. But Jango also knew that it helped soothe the ache. He had given him all the advice Jas’buir had relayed, along with the importance behind the secrecy. Jango was just a little relieved that Ben wanted someone at the temple to be accommodated to his venom, to be recognized as family when he couldn’t be there. He was sure they didn’t quite realize that meant they’d be Ben’s chew-toy when he got too aggravated or stressed, but they’d figure it out eventually. 

“You’re up to something.” Ben said, eyes narrowed in suspicion. 

“What gives you that idea?” Jango asked, head tipping.

“You’re acting weird… both of you.” Ben accused and Jango gasped in offense, hand going to his heart as if wounded while Feemor innocently looked the other way. 

“I’m acting completely normal.” Jango feigned innocence. Not that it was working. Jango was far too excited for tonight.  Ben’s eyes narrowed further and his lips thinned. 

As soon as they walked into the heart of Keldab’ika Ba’vodu was there waiting for them, arms crossed, tongs and hammer hanging from his belt.

“Ba’vodu!” Ben greeted, rushing up to him for a hug. The old goran patted ben’s hair before straightening. 

“Shekemir.” Ba’vodu ordered, and walked away. 

Ben froze and looked back to Jango in confusion. Silently Jango jutted his head in an order to comply and Ben did so. Trotting after the goran. 

“He hasn’t figured it out has he?” Jango asked Feemor who only smiled and shook his head. 

“Not a clue.”

Jango grinned and nodded to Feemor before setting off to make sure the skraan’ikase was ready for the celebration. 

An hour later he was assaulted by a small body slamming into him, nearly knocking him over.  

“Ori’vod! Look!” Ben cheered, holding his arms up to show off his new training kom’rk, tadun’bur, and cetar’bur. They were still shining unpainted durasteel, but they fit perfectly. Jango carefully took his arms and inspected the kom’rk, then looked critically at his tadun’bur and cetar’bur. Ben was vibrating with excitement, waiting for Jango’s approval. The longer it took the more and more nervous Ben seemed to grow. Slowly he straightened and crossed his arms. 

“Jate, ori’jate.” Jango said solemnly and Ben brightened considerably. “Come on, we’re having skraan’ikase.” 

Ben brightened further as he led his vod’ika to the town center that was set up for the celebration. Most of the aran’e were in attendance, as was the majority of the haat mando’ade. He watched Ben run off while Jango went to sit at the head of the table. 

“Silas! Look!! I got my training armor! LOOK!” Ben shouted, running to Silas. Jango grinned and sat down. 

“Someone’s very happy.” Skirata joked, taking a long sip of ale to hide his grin. 

“Very.” Jango agreed.

“MYLES! LOOK!” Ben shouted loudly over the hum of the party. 

“He’s going to be like that all night. My ade were like that too the first time.” 

Jango only smiled and looked over to see his vod’ika. Myles had scooped him up and was admiring the kom’rk up close. Then Myles took off with his vod’ika, carrying him around to show off the training armor with just as much excitement. 

“Mand’alor, have you given thought to allowing Ben’ayan to participate in the gathering?” the Aran’alor asked as he sat down next to Skirata, leaving the space on Jango’s right open for Ben when he came back. Jango frowned. What did the jetii want his vod’ika to participate in?

“What?” Jango asked dumbly. 

The aran’alor’s eyebrows rose. And it felt like he was staring straight into his soul.

“The gathering. Ben needs your permission to attend it.” He said carefully, unblinking.

“What is this gathering?” Jango asked. The aran’alor slapped a hand over his face and sighed. 

“The gathering is a rite of passage our young do around Ben’s age. They travel to a planet abundant in kyber crystals. It’s a challenge for them, a life lesson on how to overcome their personal fears or failings and to find a crystal attuned to their Force presence. Then on their way home, they are taught how to construct their lightsaber. The goran has already given his permission, but Ben will not be allowed to go without yours.”

Jango sat back and looked over to Ben, who was happily kicking his armored legs at Vhonte who was laughing. 

“What are the dangers?” He asked, looking back at the aran’alor. “I assume there are dangers?”

“There are… There is a chance Ben will not return. As I said, it challenges them. There’s a time limit, the crystals are in an ice cave that only opens every 17 days. If he does not make it out before it closes, he may not make it out.”

Jango’s breath stopped. Ben could die? He glanced over again, and all he could see was his vod’ika frozen and still, like buir. Ben turned and looked at him, head tipped in concern, before kicking his legs and slipping out of Myle’s hold. He ran over and slammed his forehead against Jango’s. Jango winced, seeing stars.

“ Ben how many times?” He groaned. 

“Sorry.” Ben said, clearly not sorry. “You’re in your head.”

“Aran’alor asked me if I would let you go to the gathering.” Jango said and immediately Ben brightened. He shifted into what was clearly well memorized katas, making the humming sound of a jetii’kad. “You want to go?”

“LEK! Duh! Who doesn’t want a lightsaber?”

“Are you sure? It’ll be dangerous?” Jango leaned in and Ben practically bristled. 

“Do you think I can’t succeed?”  Ben asked, looking more angry than sad. 

“Of course you can do anything you set your mind to… Just be careful, lek? Gar linibar k'oyacyi.” Jango ordered. Ben pressed his forehead against Jango’s and smiled. “He can go, aran’alor.” 

Ben cheered and jumped with excitement. 

“Myles! I’m going to get a jetii’kad!” He cheered, running over to Jango’s best friend. Myles cheered and clanged their kom’rk together. Timing couldn’t be better, because a second later all the food came out. There was cheering all around and everyone made their way to the large table. Ben plopped down right next to Jango, Myles next to him.

The all happily took food and drinks from the table and chatted. Someone passed down an ale for Jango when he emptied his. Ben had momentarily gone still next to him. Jango waited a moment to see if it was a vision or something else. Suddenly, before anyone could react Ben grabbed the glass and chugged down the ale. Ben then coughed and stuck out his tongue in disgust. 

“Wayii!” Jango shouted, shaking his head at Ben. Myles laughed loudly, almost falling back onto the ground. 

Ben rubbed at his tongue before putting his hands on his knees and closing his eyes in what looked like a meditative pose. 

However, something else caught his eye. All the aran’e went still, and with the eerie synchronized way they rarely display, all their heads turned to look down the table. Then they moved. Feemor jumped over the table to grab Ben, forcing his mouth open and sticking his fingers deep into Ben’s mouth while his vod’ika squirmed. The other aran charged down the table, tackling a mando and pinning him down. Blasters were drawn, but none of the jettise seemed to care

“Throw up, Ben!” Feemor ordered, seeming to try to trigger his gag reflex. “Come on, you need to purge it!” 

Ben tried to talk, making noises around Feemor’s hand. His fangs had dropped, and scraped against Feemor’s hand, causing blood to spurt all over the place. 

“Purge it, Ben!” He ordered again. The aran’alor, ignoring the drawn blasters, jumped over the table to Feemor and Ben, pressing a hand on Ben’s back.

“Come on Ben. You were taught how to purge toxins, you need to do that or vomit.” The aran’alor ordered.

“Toxins?” Jango yelled, finally finding sense to stand. 

“Your brother just consumed poison.” 

Ben managed to get out of Feemor’s hold.

“I’m fine! Buir was Taung!” Ben said, pulling away. 

“Ben, what were you thinking?” Jango shouted, grabbing his vod’ika. 

“That I’m more Taung than you. Poisons and toxins won’t affect me like they would you.” Ben shouted back. Jango stared at his vod’ika, who stood defiantly in front of him, eyes unwavering. For all the world he wanted to beat sense into him. Shake him until his brain worked the right way. But if it did, he wouldn’t be his vod’ika. Jango growled and threw up his hands before turning to look at the mando still pinned and struggling on the ground. He marched over to them, the crowd silent and watching. The aran’e moved, forcing the mando on his knees in front of Jango. Jango ripped the buy’ce from his head. He didn’t look familiar.

“Did you just try to kill me?” Jango asked plainly. The mando spat at Jango. 

“Te solus kad solus mhi. Kyr’am te an aru’ela. Kyr’am te an osi’yaim Mand’alor” the mando growled. Jango flashed a symbol behind his back, hoping Myles saw it and followed through as he pulled his blaster and fired point blank. He wasn’t sure if the Jedi were surprised or not, but they didn’t react beyond letting the body drop. 

Jango turned on his heel and went to his vod’ika who was, thankfully, being held against Myles who had him in a headlock with his eyes covered. 

“Come on, Ben’ika. We’re going back the the apartment and have a long talk about you jareor. Do you have jaro? You want me to die young of a heart attack?” Jango said, scooping Ben up. 

“I don’t have jaro!” Ben squawked as he was carried away. Almost immediately Feemor fell in step with them, scolding Ben just as fervently as Jango.

Chapter Text

Chapter 9: Myles

7925.2.10

Yen’buir was the most beautiful person Jango knew. The scars that danced across her face and neck didn’t make her any less beautiful. Her copper red hair fell in soft waves down to her knees, and ifJango asked, she’d let him play with it and make elaborate weavings. She didn’t wear beskar’gam, she was all soft and gentle. Some of the clans didn’t like that Jas’buir’s riduur didn’t wear armor, but she said she didn’t like the weight of beskar, that it felt like chains. 

He had asked once, not long after she said the gai bal manda, what she had ment. Between Jas’buir cursing quietly and Yen’buir shushing him, she told the story of how they first met. She wove the story how she had escaped slavery, crash landing on concord dawn, and Jas’buir came across a lost angel in the wastes, bringing her to his home for shelter. Yen’buir didn’t speak for weeks while Jas’buir treated her wounds and helped her in her recovery. Things changed suddenly when a group of foreigners arrived, looking for the lost angel. 

Slavers.

He barely had to help. The woman ripped through them, tearing them apart with her bare hands and teeth. If it wasn’t love at first sight, it certainly was love at first blood shed. They said the riduurok not long after. She tended to their farmstead where Jas’buir had been posted until his own exile. 

Yen’buir helped start the Haat mando’ade in the quiet way. She made their house a home. She supported all the ori'ramikad, and was the one who could break up any fight just by standing up. Finally, months after clans started swearing to Jas’buir, they demanded that Yen’buir wear beskar’gam. The experience had not gone well. Neither of them had gone into detail about what exactly happened, but she had apparently bit several people, nearly ripped another mando’s eyes out with her fingers, Montross limped away with a broken arm and dislocated shoulder and knee. The goran agreed that they needed to find a different alloy for her armor, and that she didn’t need to wear it all the time. 

Later, Jango when Jas’buir had been away with the ori’ramikad on a contract (and later Jango would find out, at that moment falling none so grace into the middle of a royal wedding) he asked Yen’buir about the scars. Jas’buir and the other ori’ramikad had proudly shown off their scars, telling the stories behind each one, down to the smallest scratch that Kal Skirata had gotten from his youngest ad throwing a toy block in a tantrum, but Yen’buir had never told her story. She curled up with him in the karyai, while holding a mug of steaming hoth chocolate. Then she told the story, a horrifying thing. She told him about how she had been stolen from her homeworld, Stewjon. How she sung and lured her captors to her, how she bit them. That they had to use tranq-darts to incapacitate her. They then cut out her venom glands, so she couldn’t kill them, and then cut out her secondary vocal box and vocal cords. She had been considered of little use to them then. Jango was old enough then to understand the unspoken part. He knew why Stewjoni were valued, why most of the ones in slavery were born into slavery. 

The scars made her more beautiful in Jango’s eyes. Her scars were her resilience. It was why he hadn’t noticed when she got weaker. When the flush of her cheeks dimmed, and her skin slowly grayed. 

He thought it was because of the baby.

Women got sick with babies, that what Arla had said once.

He wasn’t sure what woke him up, but when he did wake it was to an empty karyai. The blankets were cold and unused. He sat up and looked around for his buire, but they weren’t around. 

“You are dying. Why don’t you seem to care at all?” He heard Jas’buir whisper shout. Ice shot through his veins as he slowly crept up and towards the kitchen. 

“I made my choice years ago, Jaster. I chose you.” Yen’buir said. 

His buire were in the kitchen, Yen’buir sitting on the counter with Jas’buir pressed against her, holding her tightly. 

Jas’buir looked… broken. 

He’d never seen him cry, not even when he had been shot, but tears stained his face, and made his eyes red. Yen’buir was only smiling softly, hands running through Jas’buir’s hair. 

“I made my choice. I chose you, I chose Jan’ika, and I chose our baby. I chose this life.”

“But maybe if we go to stewjon? There could be healers?”

“You would not be allowed on the planet, and if I go, I will not be allowed to leave.” Yen’buir sounded so calm.

“But you’ll die.” Jas’buir choked out.

“I have lived a good life, Jaster. You have made me so happy.”

“I can’t do this without you.” Jango could barely hear Jas’buir say. 

“You can. I’m sorry, but you can do it.”

“Buire?” Jango asked, peeking around the corner.

“Jan’ika. What are you doing up?” Yen’buir asked, sliding off the counter. Jango couldn’t answer, just shrugged. Yen’buir just sighed and waddled over, holding her big belly. “Well come on, time to sleep.”

“Buire, will you still want me after the ik’aad is here?” Jango asked as she tucked him in. 

“Of course, Jan’ika. You’re our son. Even if we have a hundred other ade, you will alway be our son.”

7938.10.4

Feemor moved down the hall with a sense of urgency. Cin sent him on the fetch mission which gave him just enough time to pull on a robe and rush out of the guard quarters. He sped-walked down the hallway of classrooms, searching for the one that taught galactic law with urgency. Finally he skidded to a stop and knocked on the door before entering. A Bothan master he didn’t recognize stopped his lecture. 

“Sorry to interrupt, Master. Might I borrow Initiate Kenobi?” He called. It was then a head popped up and he sent a quick glance at the child in question. He subtly flashed a sign to Ben who immediately quietly started sliding his work into his bag. 

“Can this not wait?” The master asked. 

“I apologize, it’s quite urgent.”

“Very well, Initiate-” 

Ben was already up and rushing over to Feemor. Feemor bowed to the master and put a hand on Ben’s shoulders guiding him. Once the door closed behind them Ben peered up at him, concern knitting his brows. It didn’t pass Fee’s notice how Ben clutched his bag a little tighter, and a soft anxiety drifted past the child’s shields.

“Me’bana?”Ben asked quietly, knowing he wasn’t really allowed to speak his native language outside of the guard quarters. 

“Nothing bad, your brother called. Master Drallig thought you’d want to speak with him as soon as possible.” Fee assured and Ben sighed heavily, shoulders sagging in relief. 

It hadn’t escaped anyone’s notice that Ben was growing ever more tense as he got closer to his verd’goten. Everyone outside the guard assumed it was because he didn’t have a master yet and was getting close to the cut off. The guard knew it wasn’t that. It was a growing fear that Jango was going to leave him behind in his hunt for revenge. 

Luckily the Mand’alor was kind enough to leave Lord Isa behind to keep Ben company, and the damn thing seemed to like sitting on top of Ben any time he got too lost in his worries. They walked quietly and with purpose to the guard quarters and into the conference room where Jango was on holo waiting for Ben. 

The Mand’alor was still fully armored, helmet firmly on his head and blasters on his belt. 

“Ori’vod, su’cuy!” Ben shouted rushing into the range of the holo, and the helmeted head tilted. 

“Su cuy’gar, Vod’ika!” Jango’s modulated voice greeted, and modulated or not, he sounded truly happy to see Ben. 

“Me’vaar ti gar? Jate?” Ben asked, hands leaning against the projector table. 

“I’m fine, Ben’ika. Don’t worry so much. We’re just wrapping things up here. I wanted to let you know.” Ben smiled even brighter and his brother’s head tilted in what Feemore had come to learn meant affection. 

“Where are you?” Ben asked.

“A little backwater planet called Galidraan. The governor wanted us to deal with some rebels here. It’s blasted cold here, you’d hate it, but you’d love the snow, everything’s covered in the stuff. Looks like a winter wonderland.”

“How much snow is there?”

“Hmm… about three feet most places, though there were a few spots we came across I’m sure if you jumped into, you’d disappear.”

“Whoa. Did you build a snowman?”

“Nah, but on one of our breaks I did build a snow- mando with myles, and then we pelted Walon with snowballs.”

“Did you record it?”

“I’m sure if you ask Silas real nice he can send his HUD recording.”

Ben grinned widely, bouncing on his feet as he talked to his brother. It was always sweet to watch how truly happy Ben was when Jango was around. Feemor glanced over at Cin who was surprisingly frowning, looking like he was trying to remember something. Mentally he poked at the man, only to get an ‘it’s nothing, later’ in return. Feemor frowned and looked back at the two mandos. 

“And, as promised, this was the last one until after your verd’goten.”

“K’oyacyi!” Ben cheered, jumping up and down.

“I’m glad you’re excited.” Jango said, before waving someone over. “We’re still a few months away from your verd’goten so this way we’ll have plenty of time to plan. I’ve got a few ideas myself, but we should run them past the goran for formal approval. We’ve a few things to wrap up, here. I need to report to our employer and collect the payment. Then the verde and I are going to head to Mereel’yaim to get things ready. I’m sending Myles to get you.”

“Su’cuy vod’ika!” Another Mando greeted as he stepped into view, throwing an arm over Jango’s shoulders. The Mand’alor’s helmet shifted to look towards the newcomer. 

“Su’cuy Myles!”

“Heard I get the privilege of picking you up! You ready to have some fun with your favorite ori’vod?”

“He’s my vod’ika, Myles, not yours. I’m his only ori’vod.” Jango said lowly enough that Feemor had to cover his mouth to smother the laugh that wanted to escape. Those two were the best of friends, but the amount of times they started bickering because Myles was trying to stake his claim that Ben was his little brother too was honestly hilarious. But the smile on his face faded fast as the Force grew heavy and Ben went still. 

“Ben?” Myles asked as Feemor stepped into frame and knelt next to the youngling. Ben’s eyes were wide and vacant, staring off into the near distance. 

“Aran Feemor, what’s happening.” He heard Jango ask distantly

“Vision, give him a moment.” Feemor reported, rubbing Ben’s back. 

“Vision? He normally…”

“This is just a little one. Some visions will make him pass out, others you wouldn’t be able to tell he had one. Then there’s ones like this one, vacant for a little and then back.” Feemor explained looking at his vambrace to mark the time. After a minute Ben drew a shaky breath and blinked. 

“Me’vaar ti gar?” Jango asked. 

“Buy’ce, gedet’ye” Ben asked quietly, leaning against the projector table. Feemor frowned, but looked up to see Jango unclipping his helmet and taking it off. Ben leaned in closer, eyes searching Jango’s face urgently. Seeing what he needed to, Ben sighed.

“Me’vaar ti gar?” Jango asked, eyes creased with worry.

“Naas.”

“If you’re sure, Ben. We’re packing up camp now. Myles will be enroute by the end of the day, so he should get to you in… about 4 days. Do you still remember what his Kar’ta Beskar feels like?”

“Lek, I’ll sense when he's close.” Ben mumbled, eyes still locked on Jango’s face. 

“Good. We’ll see each other soon. Are you sure you’re alright?”

“Lek.”

“Alright. kar'taylir darasuum, Ben’ika.”

“Kar’taylir darasuum, Ori’vod. K’oyacyi, gedet’ye, k’oyacyi.”

“Ret!” Jango smiled and the call dropped. 

“Do you want to meditate?” Cin asked, looking at Ben with concern. 

“No… Can I go take a nap?” He asked. 

“Sure, make sure Lord Isa doesn’t need to go to the bathroom first, though.” 

Ben nodded and slinked from the room. The two of them stood in the room in silence, a heavy feeling weighing the mood down. 

“What was wrong, earlier?” Feemor asked after a few minutes of silence. 

“I remember hearing talk about Galidraan, but I don’t remember why.”

“Think your master will give you a straight answer if you ask?” Feemor asked. Cin snorted and gave him a wry look that was all the answer he needed. Master Yoda never gave anyone straight answers, especially not anyone in his lineage.

“I’ll go and message his teachers for the day, let them know he won’t be at the rest of the day. Will you go check on him?”

“Of course. I don’t have rotation until tomorrow evening, so I’ll help him get his go bag ready after dinner tonight.”

7938.14.4

Jaa stood silently in the hanger on duty silently counting the minutes until he could clock out. Mechanics and explora-corps members milled about their work. The training guard with him oozed boredom in the force, and Jaa had to keep poking at him to get him to sure up his shielding. He was beginning to wonder if he was too old for this, now in his mid sixties, more gray hair than black, which he purely blamed on Ben.  His life used to be boring . Simple, every day was the same. He had trained dozens of guards, not a single one of them gave him a gray hair or a wrinkle. 

Now?  

Now there was a little demon that kept popping up all over the place. Now there was mando training. And the strill. 

Don’t get Jaa started on the damn beast.

Suffice to say life was boring before, and now that it wasn’t, because of Ben, it was clearly his fault he was going gray. Good genetics like his wouldn’t have him turning gray until he was at least Yoda’s age, if not older. Jaa was a kriffing masterpiece. 

“Jaa, doesn’t anything interesting ever happen here?” Kanar Hok, the trainee guard, asked over the HUD internal speakers.

“If we’re lucky, no.” Jaa answered, glancing around the hanger. 

“Seriously? I thought being a guard would be more interesting.”

“This is a serious job, Kanar. We’re charged with the safety of our people. We dissuade our fellows from fighting one another. We secure the temple from any invasion. It’s been centuries since invaders dared to step foot here, we hope it stays that way, but we are the front line of protection. Days like this, when its boring, this is what we want.” Jaa explained. The trainee only sighed heavily. 

“Still…”

“Mind your shielding.” Jaa scolded lightly. He was really beginning to wonder why this kid joined them. Jaa didn’t like to be judgemental, but the kid was lacking some of the skills and discipline that were needed, that were looked for in the recruiting process. But, then again, it wasn’t his job to recrute, just train.

“Alright, why don’t you go ahead and check the arrivals manifest?” Jaa prompted, noticing the increasing number of individuals moving into the hanger. 

“Umm… it looks like there's just one ship inbound for this hanger…” Kanar said, looking at the manifest his voice trailed off and he let out a soft “oh”

“What?”

“Its carrying a Jedi strike team returning from a mission. I-I didn’t think we still did strike teams.” Kanar whispered. 

“Take a deep breath, center yourself. Do you want me to continue reading?” Jaa asked. The trainee didn’t answer verbally, just gave a soft tug on Jaa in the force. Slowly Jaa pulled up the manifest. Jedi starship, carrying a returning jedi strike team. 11 souls on board (6 jedi, 4 civilians), 19 bodies of Jedi knights and masters in stasis for a proper funeral, and one body in stasis for research as the species was unknown. Their ship was damaged. They were requesting healers be ready for them as all of them had injuries and 4 of which were serious. He glanced through the names, and mentally cursed. Great, Dooku and his little shit were in this mess.

“Alright, things are going to be bustling here. Healers will be here, probably judiciary forces too. If you were in charge and not me, what would you do?” Jaa asked, watching as more and more people started filtering in.

“Umm… I’d request additional guards to be present. There's more people to keep an eye on, and emotions are probably high?” Kanar asked.

“Go ahead and make the notice.” Jaa said. A minute later his notification went off. He pulled up the notice and nodded. 

Kanar Hok to guard detail

Date: 7938.14.4  16:25hr

Notice

Additional help requested in hanger bay AN-8. Jedi strike force returning to the temple along with those lost, with the additional personnel in the hanger more eyes and ears may be needed to maintain cool heads.

“Looks good. We should expect additional help in the next few minutes.”

They stood silently watching as more and more people filtered in, frantically getting the docking bay ready. They had cleared out all unnecessary personnel and rerouted inbound ships to different hangers. 

Suddenly his notification went off again. Jaa sighed and pulled it up. 

Tar’la Set’ar to guard detail

Cc: Cin Drallig

Date: 7938.14.4  16:27hr

Notice

Ben’ayan Mereel has collected his go-bag and pet strill, Lord Isa. He was last seen heading towards the hangers. Monitor all in-bound ships so the alor’ika doesn’t get hit. If you come across the child, give him our best. 

This is not goodbye forever.

Ben’ayan Mereel, Koyacyi

Jaa sighed at the notice. So the menace was finally leaving.

Good. 

The menace deserved to be with his people, with his brother. 

It was just…

Well he’d see the little biter again, no need for goodbyes or anything. Cin had said that room 220 would still be for the Mereels until the end of this mystery contract. It would be no time at all until the menace was back and prowling their halls, pouncing …

It’d just be… quiet. 

Quiet was a good thing…

It was good timing that the ship came when it did. Perfect distraction. 

As soon as it landed the hangar bursted with life. Healers and mechanics surged on the vessel as the survivors exited. Jaa monitored silently, keeping track of everyone and their feelings in the force. 

Most were just tired.

Grief stricken.  

A few were angry.

“Myles! Ni olar!” A familiar voice called out, and suddenly Jaa felt dunked in an ice pool. He scanned the area, looking for one specific little menace. He almost missed him. The little red head ducking between moving healer and mechanics, weaving through the crowd with the strill on his heels. 

Ben shouldn’t be there.

“Myles! Ni olar! Vaii gar?” Ben shouted.

“Kanar, call the battle master and Feemor Sthal, tell them the alor’ika is here in our hanger.” Jaa ordered as he stepped into the crowd, weaving through the masses to get to the menace. Luckily the brat had stopped, frozen in his steps. Ben was wearing his training armor, painted a beautiful array of red black and blue. He placed a hand on Ben’s shoulder to get his attention, but his eyes were locked on the ramp. On the ramp where a beskar clad body was being pushed down.

Armor that even Jaa recognized. No one else painted their armor in that mix of gray, blue, and gold. He knew that kid. 

“MYLES!” Ben screamed and sprang ahead, pulling out of Jaa’s grasp before he could stop him. He latched onto the corpse. 

Onto the corpse of the Mand’alor’s closest friend and confidant. 

Onto the corpse of the kid that kept trying to call Ben’ayan his little brother. 

Onto the corpse that he had eaten meals with.

Had wrestled with.

Cracked jokes with.

Ben screamed, clinging onto the body. 

Jaa had to move.

He had to grab Ben and pull him away.

He knew he needed to, but that was a lightsaber wound.

“Myles! Wake up!” Ben cried, pulling at the mando’s armor, trying to get a reaction, any reaction. 

Jaa moved. 

One arm wrapped around Ben’ayan, pulling him back. The alor’ika screamed, legs kicking out as he tried to get back to the body of his friend. He only pulled back a few feet when the crying started. The same heartbreaking wail he had heart the last time the two of them were in this same hanger. The strill circled them, anxious and trying to figure out what to do. 

“Nayc. Myles. Nayc.” Ben wailed, clinging to the arm holding him. 

Then the menace went very still. 

“Where did you get that?” Ben asked lowly, and Jaa had to look around to figure out who the kid was talking to. Who the strill was suddenly growling at.

Then he saw it.

Then the pit in his stomach grew larger. 

That was Jango’s necklace dangling in the hand of Komari Vosa. It was the same necklace that was hanging from Ben’s neck. One of the pair the two came back with after Jaster’s death. 

Vosa didn’t answer, just tucked the thing into her belt.

When he was asked later, Jaa would quite willingly answer that it didn’t matter how strong he was, that kid suddenly became ten times stronger. He ripped himself from Jaa’s hold, charging forward towards the senior padawan. 

“That’s not yours! It doesn’t belong to you!” 

The kid attacked her. Clawing and hitting, ripping like a feral beast to get to that necklace. The six legged beast bit down on the padawan’s leg, causing her to shout.

Kriff it. 

“Code gold. Repete Code gold.” Jaa called into the duty coms for true emergencies. 

Code gold was a new one, special for Ben’ayan. It meant the kid was out of control, and a legitimate threat. 

The menace managed to rip the necklace from her hand, the beskar chain ripping her skin along the way. He then immediately went back to Myles, holding his body like he could breathe life back into it. He was saying something in mando’a, far too quickly and quietly for Jaa to understand. The strill had also retreated to Ben, pacing around the child and growling at all who came too close. He waved the healers off, giving them the aura of don’t disturb. He felt the lights of Cin and Feemor approaching, but didn’t pay too much attention, as he tried to give Ben the space he needed. 

He wasn’t sure what happened when his back was turned. But he heard Ben scream and shout “Kyramud” and then a shout of surprise from a male voice. 

Jaa spun, and saw that Ben had latched onto the hand of Master Dooku himself. Luckily he didn’t need to be the one to move, because not a second later Cin was at Ben’s side, growling in Ben’s face, baring his teeth. 

It didn’t work. 

In fact Dooku gave a pained grunt as if Ben’s jaw closed further. 

Feemor did what Cin didn’t seem to want to. He charged forward, and pried Ben’s mouth open with his bare hands, ignoring how the fangs pierced his own skin. Cin pulled Dooku away, tossing the older man out of reach of the Stewjoni child who was on a warpath.

“MURDERER!” Ben screamed, still reaching out to attack the master despite being held back by a straining Feemor. His fangs were fully bared. The four large venomous fangs had dropped in front of his upper teeth, and his eyes were near gold with rage. Feemor was wrestling the child, clearly straining in the force to keep a hold of him. 

If he listened closely with the force, he would for sure, hear Fee cursing Ben’s unholy genetics. Taung, Stewjoni, and the surprise Kage mixed in was a thing of horror. 

Even Healer Che was known to curse his ancestors. If a Stewjoni child wasn’t dangerous enough, as they learned more about that horror of genetics, someone had apparently thought, hey let's see if we can make them stronger, more resistant, and FASTER. 

Outside of the jedi, even to the Mandalorians, Ben was a bred hunter, a bred killer.

“What did you do?” Cin shouted at Dooku who was still staring at the child with wide shocked eyes as the battle master forcefully dragged him from the hanger, likely to get to Che and the antivenom before it killed the master. 

“You killed them! You killed them all!” Ben sobbed, falling to his knees. Feemor held onto the child as he sobbed. He was whispering something that only Ben could hear. The kid wailed loudly. 

“Ni copaanir slanar yaim”

Jaa closed his eyes.

Ben was supposed to go home today. 

The dead mando, his friend, his family , was the one who was supposed to be bringing Ben back to Mandalore proper. The one who was supposed to bring Ben home .  

That wasn’t happening now. 

Kriff

“Jaa?” 

Kanar. Kriff.

“I’ll take care of the report today, Kanar.”

“But… Jaa what happened?” Kanar asked. 

“I don’t know. Nothing good.” Jaa sighed and patted the trainee’s shoulder “Welcome to the guard.”

Chapter Text

Chapter 10: Aftermath

7938.20.4

There was always something… intimidating about the high council chambers. No matter how many times Cin found himself in the chambers, he was always unnerved. 

He never had to stand before the full high council as a youngling and so rarely as a padawan, though by that point in time, his master had individually introduced him to each member. He was familiar with the council members when he was younger, but he was still intimidated. Young Ben didn’t have that chance, which was only partially why he was concerned. 

It had only been six days since they stood silently by Ben’s side for Myles’s funeral, and mourned quietly over the empty pyre service for the others lost on Galidraan. The child hadn’t spoken since then. 

He had thought they could handle anything when it came to Ben. They had seen the child mourn before, but this? 

This was different. 

Ben had been a bright light in the Force, sparkling, happy, and joyful. He was now different, roaring in the Force like a burning funeral pyre with the heavy, suffocating weight of grief that clung to him like smoke. He radiated anger and grief wherever he went, only this time, there was no one to help relieve him of it. Dozens of Mandalorians, family and friends, gone in one day, just minutes after they finished a holo call. 

Everyone they knew had lost someone.

Keldab’ika would never feel quite the same. 

And that day in the hangar had been a painful reminder that, despite what Jaster had said, intentional or not, the child was bred for battle. The tantrums they had to deal with was nothing in comparison to the hangar. The child was fast , and when he struck, he struck like a cargo speeder. Cin didn’t think they’d be able to get Ben to release Yan’s arm without dislocating his jaw or breaking it. He had latched on harder than they thought possible. 

It made him relieved that he and Feemor never experienced the full force of Ben’s bite.

Yan was, last Cin checked, still in the healers, trying to rehabilitate his arm. The cyotoxin in his venom had done some severe damage, despite their promptness in getting Yan to Che. He’d be lucky if he gained functionality of his arm again. That being said, it was already a blessing that he hadn’t died, from what he heard, it was a near thing. Even Yan’s padawan, Komari Vosa, would be likely to have long-lasting scars from Ben’s sharp nails and Lord Isa’s bite.

But Cin was concerned, standing before the council.

He was concerned because any sane youngling would be nervous, scared even.

Ben was not. 

Still burning in the force, he was steady. His eyes were a muted yellow, reflecting the anger and grief the child was feeling. He wore nearly the full of his training armor, only his helmet left off, clipped to the belt he wore. The paint of it had once been familiar, but in the days since the funeral, it had been repainted. Gone were the old signs of reliable blue and dutiful green. Now there was only black justice, red to honor Jaster, and mourning gray. He didn’t bend his back or his neck in the presence of the masters, choosing only to stare blankly out the window past their shoulders instead. 

He could feel the annoyance of some of the ‘traditional’ masters, but he wasn’t about to correct Ben’s behavior. Not now. 

The goran had joined them as well, summoned by the council’s request and spurred by protective wrath for the child that would stand before the full… mostly full, council. His behavior was much the same as Ben’s, though the aura of aggression was tangible. The muting effects of the beskar barely muffled the roaring rage that he projected into the force. Cin had learned, years ago, that the goran was a “traditionalist” and never removed his beskar except in solitude or in the presence of only his family. He had gotten very good at letting Jedi know how he felt. If he didn’t actively project his emotions loudly enough for nearby Jedi to feel, he certainly voiced them clearly enough. Standing before the council, he did both. 

Cin, however, was focused on Ben, ignoring how the council and the goran spoke around them. He held onto Ben’s force presence like he was holding the child’s hand, and the child held on just as tightly. He had read the reports earlier, heard the inane excuses. All of it came down to negligence and incompetence. 

No one, not one person, had thought to speak to anyone who had contact with a Mandalorian in the past five years, hell, the past ten years. Not a single member of the guard who had lived and breathed the codex and the Mandalorian culture since Ben came to them had been asked anything, not about the different political groups, not about their fighting styles, not even about their armors and how to differentiate people by them, nor even how to speak to a mandalorian without starting something. 

No one asked.

No one listened.

And now?

Now they had a war child, one bred for battle and blood, standing in their temple, grieving and furious. Now they had friends who had joined the force before their time. Now they had a whole community of orphans, widows and widowers, and bereaved parents.

Cin had to meditate quite a bit more than he usually did these past few days.

He wasn’t quite sure why he was asked to be in the council chambers as well, after all, it was the council that had royally karked up. He had a sinking suspicion that he was the neutral party in this instance. Which, frankly, was a terrible, stupid idea. He was the battle master for a reason… unless they thought that he’d defend them against two raging mando’ade… in that case, they’d probably be very disappointed in him, and he’d probably lose his job. Cin was charged with the protection of all the Jedi within the temple, and specifically with the protection of Ben’ayan Mereel, a task given to him by the council itself. It hadn’t been long since he was a master, but as far as he was concerned, Ben was his. And everyone in the galaxy knew, if you wanted to get the padawan, make sure the master was dead first. Or as the mando’ade would say, draar slanar acyk mando bal val ad.

And didn’t that make something in him rise up?

He would never, could never, verbalize it, though, because if he did, then the council would separate them. 

Ben was beginning to feel restless, and when Cin looked, the child’s hand was flexing. Slowly, he wrapped an arm around Ben’s shoulder, moving his hand closer to Ben’s mouth. He didn’t need to say anything, and he didn’t react when it happened. Ben bit down lightly on Cin’s hand, fangs dropping and retracting as he tried to soothe himself. Cin wondered if Jango knew that this was what drinking that venom would mean, becoming a permanent chew toy for the youngling. 

Knowing the brat, he probably did.

He probably found it kriffing hilarious.

Cin tuned in so he could figure out why Ben was getting aggravated. 

“You don’t know how to tell friend from foe. Did your people even ask for surrender?” the goran shouted.

Ah, that would explain it.

They had been talking in circles since they arrived, making excuses and half-hearted apologies.

“As I said, our people acted in haste-” Master Droom started again.

… or just stupid arguments. Jedi were not supposed to ever act in haste.

“You Jetiise, so high and mighty, attack a group of mando’ade because they are mando, no questions, no surrender, just murder. Where is our justice?” 

“Those who survived are being censured. Their actions are not the actions of a Jedi. We are deeply ashamed of what has happened, and we strive to do better.” Master Windu said.

“Your shame will not bring back our people.”

Cin didn’t need to hear the keening whine that came from Ben, he could feel it rumbling in his hand. Ben gripped him tighter in the force, feeling all the burning funeral pyre rage and the heavy, suffocating grief. Cin didn’t have it in him to argue that the censuring was all but a slap on the wrist and a finger wagging. 

“We did not summon you here to explain ourselves. We have expressed our remorse-”

“We either need to get to the point or take a break,” Cin said loudly, breaking up the argument that Master Droom was starting up again. “I would like to remind this council that you are not speaking to returning knights or masters from a mission gone awry. The Goran and young Ben are the grieving family, and the representatives for those who lost their families as well. I’ve read the reports, and I’m not above handing it over to the both of them.”

The council members shifted, outrage and shock echoing in the force.

“You wouldn’t.” Mace sat upright, clearly trying to keep from gaping. Instead of answering, Cin simply raised his eyebrows and took his hand back from Bend so he could cross his arms. After a second of staring down Mace, he groaned and rubbed his temples. 

Then the worst happened. 

Master Droom opened his mouth… again.

“We have a contract without a signee.”

Beskar or not, it was more than clear that it was far from the right thing to say. 

Burning rage exploded in the force from the goran as he shouted. “CONTRACT? CONTRACT! Koor lo’shebs’ul narit. Who do you think can take your cursed contract now that you’ve killed us?”

“Are you not young Mereel’s guardian now?” Master Dapatian asked.

The two mando’ade went quiet for a while. Ben’s eyes turned a sullen gray as he looked down at the floor instead of out the window for the first time. The goran moved slowly, a hand gripped the back of Ben’s neck and gave a squeeze before falling back down to clasp his other hand in front of him. He sighed heavily, the familiar hissing of the vo-coder breaking the silence of the room, though only Cin amongst the Jedi knew what the sound was. 

“While Jaster was my sister’s son, I am unable to take guardianship of him. I am the goran of Coruscanta. I cannot sign any contract, as my duty is to see to the needs of my people here, both for their armor and for spiritual guidance. Additionally, there would be resistance from others if I were to take full custody of Jaster’s ad, given my former clan affiliation. I had sworn oaths to Jaster when he decided to take the mantle of Man’alor, but before that, I was close with many who are currently tied to Kyr’tsad. Our clan, Mereel, was already small. Now, besides Ben and myself, all were on Galidraan. There is no one else.”

The council went silent, some sharing looks while the familiar buzz of force communication filled the room. However, before anyone else spoke up, Ben’s eyes raised and he spoke up. 

“I will take up the contract after my Verd’goten.” Eyes turned back to the child, even Cin felt a flash of shock and fear drive through him. “This contract had been originally made on my behalf. I remember the contract from when my father first made it. However, I don’t know if there were any changes when he took it up. But I would demand some corrections and amendments to it, but I will take it up.”

Before anyone on the council could respond, the goran snapped something in Mando’a that Cin didn’t know what it meant. Then the two were rapidly arguing in their native language, leaving everyone stunned and confused. Cin, himself, could barely follow along, catching a few words like “par ner buir,” “shi ad,” “nare ijaat,” and “Koor kyr’am”. 

After a minute of the two arguing, the goran finally threw up his hands and rolled his head to look away from Ben. Cin winced as Ben gaped at the action, offense clearly written on his face.

“He will not take the contract until after the passing of his verd’goten.”

“Of course, Ben’ayan Mereel is still a child, both by your culture and ours. Any contract he would sign would be illegitimate.” Mace soothed gently. “We will continue our side of the contract until such a time that young Mereel may sign it.”

They all fell into a tense silence, and Cin took that opportunity to grip his shoulder and give it a reassuring squeeze. 

“I want to make it clear now that there are some amendments to the contract.” Ben swallowed, and the muscles in his shoulder tensed under Cin’s hand. “Everyone involved in the Galidraan massacre will need to learn and memorize the names of every mando’ade that has died.”

The council seemed shocked by the idea. 

“Initiate… thats… How many names is that? Can that many be memorized? Do we even know who was there?” Master T’un spoke up, sounded shocked and unsure. Ben turned gray eyes towards him. 

“We memorize the names of our fallen and give our remembrances every day, master. It’s how we honor and ensure they move onto the manda. Those names have been carved into our souls. Darasuum haastal. It has scarred us forever. I found the records. We needed the closure, we needed to know. Three hundred and sixteen lives. Seventy-six super commandos, ori’ramikade, fifty-five medics, baar’ure, one hundred and eighty-three warriors, verde, seventy-seven of which were between the ages of thirteen and eighteen, and two ade, children, who were on Galidraan as a part of their verd’goten. We know each of their names. Now you must too.”

Plo made a choked noise under his mask, his brow ridges creased in sadness. “There were younglings there?”

Ben paused, then nodded. “By Jedi standards, Republic standards, yes. A total of seventy-nine were under the age of eighteen. I can send the list of all the names over.”

“Parer,” the goran interrupted, his t-visor turning to face Ben fully. There was a tension in his pose. 

“Gar soletar ne’serim.” The goran corrected, and Cin blinked, looking between the two curiously. Ben wouldn’t make a mistake like not counting right. 

“Nayc,” Ben lowered both his arms to his side and jutted his chin out a tiny bit. Defiance. Cin felt his eyebrows raise further as he looked to the goran. 

“Elek. Gar soletar ne’serim. Ehn’olan ta’raysh e’tad, nu’ehn’olan ta’raysh resol.” A chill went down Cin’s spine, and his hand dropped from Ben’s shoulder. The count was off by one, according to the goran. 

“Nayc. Ner ori’vod nu’kyrayc. Kaysh oyayc.” Ben growled, and Cin felt his heart break. 

“Ben-” Cin tried to speak softly, but Ben whipped around to bare his fangs at him and growl. He raised his hands, trying to show that he meant no harm, but Ben’s fangs only seemed to glint menacingly, and his eyes burned a muted yellow. 

“He’s not dead .” He insisted so fervently that the council shifted. 

“Ben, I saw the report-”

“Then it’s kriffing wrong. Jango’s not dead. I can still feel him. Our bond is still there. He’s not dead, he's just… lost.” Ben’s eyes lost the yellow gleam and instead stared up at him with the same gray, smoky look of the funeral pyre. The gray of grief. 

“Then we will try to keep an eye out for him,” Plo said gently. Ben turned and nodded seriously, his shoulders losing tension. 

“Was there anything else?”

“Your… compatriot,” Master Droom started, hesitant, “Our medical teams were uncertain how to categorize his remains. Given the lack of proper documentation and the apparent rarity of his species, we had retained the body for study. There were concerns that he might be a previously undocumented threat. Our healers had intended no disrespect.”

The temperature in the room seemed to drop. 

Cin was angry, furious, even. He had seen that young man grow up. Seen him so often without a helmet that he gave it no thought. He had believed the boy was pantoran, or some mix, as the Mandalorians had a wide range of species and interspecies mixes. To him, the boy was just the cheerful young man with blue skin and red eyes that kept trying to claim Ben as his little brother. 

“He was eighteen.” Cin snapped. 

“He was armor-clad, force-resistant, and unidentified,” Master Giiett jumped in, “In the absence of any biological record, the decision was made to isolate his remains until further analysis could be performed. It was not meant as a desecration.”

“It was,” Ben said, eyes sharp. “You knew how Mandalorians feel about their people, their people, even if you don’t understand, even if you never asked. You took him from his family, and we had to fight to get him back.”

“You didn’t even ask,” Cin added, tone tight. “You just took his body like it belonged to you. Like he was a puzzle to solve. This whole thing could have been handled if you just asked .”

“The remains were returned when your claim was made,” Mace interjected, attempting to smooth the moment. “We offer our regrets.”

“There is nothing you can offer that will undo what was done,” the goran said. “He has been laid to rest. We reclaimed what was ours. But the insult remains in your records. See that you note it properly, as a theft. Not a study.”

Ben’s voice was thin, but audible. “He was one of us. You didn’t see that. You just saw his skin and his blood and thought he was something to be categorized. You didn’t ask. You didn’t care.”

“We apologize, Initiate, truly. But, for the sake of our records, and to avoid further dispute, can we ask now what species was your friend?”

Ben looked to the goran as if asking for permission, and the goran gave a near imperceptible nod.

“He’s not pantoran,” Ben said softly. “He said he was a Chiss, from the unknown regions. His people called him a Sky-walker. The ones traveling with him died, but Buir and Jango found him. He hadn’t wanted to be adopted, but… He was ours, and we were his. Myle-”

“If that’s all,” the goran said, interrupting, whose jaw clicked shut. Whatever Ben was going to say, he would not now. 

There is also the matter of Mereel’s punishment.” Master Droom said. 

Cin stiffened, but before he could react, the goran grabbed Ben and pulled him halfway behind him with a growled order of “K’birgaan”. Ben’s hand immediately grabbed the back of the goran’s belt. 

“I don’t know why Ben would need to be punished for anything,” Cin said calmly, glaring daggers at Master Droom. 

“Senior Padawan Vosa has permanent scars from his attack, and Master Dooku is still fighting to keep his arm. Mereel could have very well killed him.”

“And he would have deserved it,” the goran growled.

“Yan is still alive, which is more than can be said for Ben’ayan’s family,” Cin said with finality.

“He still-”

“This council had already come to the agreement that Ben’ayan Mereel acted in defense.” Mace interrupted, cutting Master Droom off. “I know that this is nothing in comparison with the loss we made you go through, but we wished to pay reparations for it. If you permit it, we will send it to your forge to distribute as you see fit.” 

The goran nodded once, then tipped his head towards Ben. Then he turned and walked out, Ben still holding onto his belt, trailing behind him with a disgruntled look. Cin stood silently in front of the council, waiting to make sure Ben was not going to eavesdrop.

“I want to inform you that the guard has come to the decision that those who were on Galidraan will not be permitted within 100 feet of Ben.”

“The guard?” Yoda asked, leaning forward.

“I think you forget, the guard were the ones tasked with Ben’s safety. They have decided that for his safety, and the safety of the other residents, it is  best that the perpetrators of the massacre not be close enough to interact with him.”

“Respect their decision, we will.” Yoda nodded with a hum. The council chamber fell quiet at last, heavy with the words. He had so much more that he hadn’t said, didn’t dare to say. 

Cin bowed shallowly, for shallow respect, and left without another word. His footsteps echoed in the quiet that hung outside the chambers, heavy and thick. Depa, recently knighted and still helping out at the council control desk, watched him with a pinched brow as he passed. He should say something to her, but he couldn’t… she was barely older than Jango, just three small years older.

He barely reached the lift when he heard the familiar tap-tap of a cane against the tile floor behind him. 

“Many thoughts, you have,” his master murmured, stepping into place beside him as he waited for the lift to arrive.

Cin didn’t answer right away. His jaw was clenched so tightly it ached. His hand stung, not from the venom, but from the place where Ben’s little fangs had pierced his skin over and over. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever been more disappointed in the Order,” He said finally. “And in the Council most of all.”

“Hmmm…” Yoda hummed softly, and Cin knew he was nodding even without looking. “Many mistakes we made.”

Cin finally turned to look at him. His master wasn’t looking at him, but his ears were drooping.

“You made more than mistakes, Master. You made choices. They made choices. Not out of malice, Force knows I would almost understand if it were, but out of arrogance, out of willful ignorance. You sent Jedi to Galidraan without knowing who they were fighting. You didn’t even bother to ask the people here who know how Mandalorians work. The Guard would have told you. I would have told you. But none of us were asked.”

Somehow, his ears drooped even lower. But Cin couldn’t stop now, just because his master was sad or ashamed.

“You know what cuts the deepest? Not just that they were wrong, but that they still won’t admit it. Not truly. They speak of remorse, but only because they’ve been caught with their trousers down.” his voice dropped, softer, but just as sharp. “Ben is a child, and not a Jedi child, either. I think we forget that, or worse, we ignore it. He might have grown up in the creche amongst our young, but he is Mandalorian. He didn’t train to suppress emotions and bow to wisdom he doesn’t feel. He was brought here because he was just a babe who people were trying to kill with a force connection that might have pulled him in too deep if he didn’t have the training. Ben’s not a Jedi, he’s a survivor, a fighter. And now? We’ve personally just handed him a loss so big, it just might have destroyed any trust we spent all these years building. Yet you, the council, are expecting him to recover like a senior padawan or a knight. He’s not, and he’s not recovering. He’s barely holding himself together by blood and teeth.” 

Cin clenched his fists and looked at his master, really looked. His master’s face was unreadable, but his eyes remained half-lidded, sad. He ground his teeth and took a deep breath. 

“Instead of reaching out for him, like the council should, like any master should, the council talks about punishment and contracts and reparations like they’re the ones who’ve been wounded. Ben had so few anchors left in this galaxy. He lost his father, now he’s lost his brother and over three hundred of his people. Now that’s all gone. They’re all gone. He doesn’t have a master. He won’t. The temple isn’t a home for him, it’s a waypoint in his journey. He’s not a Jedi, Master, and we need to stop pretending he is.”

The silence stretched. The lift still hadn’t come.

“Difficult, the line is. Loyalty to the Jedi, you hold. But love for the boy, and his people, too.”

Cin exhaled, and he worked hard on pulling on the calm as he tried to put his emotions into the force. 

“They trusted us. Jaster did. Jango. Myles. All of them. They let one of their children live here. Learn here. And we-” his voice faltered. “We let them die.”

“A shadow upon us, it leaves.”

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to do anymore,” Cin admitted. “I swore to protect the Jedi. But I swore to protect Ben, too. And every time I look at him, I wonder which promise I’ll have to break first.”

Yoda looked at him with a gaze, ancient and weary. “Think, do not, that stand alone in that, you do.”

“I just want him to have a chance. A real one. Not the Council’s version of it. I want him to live. Not survive. Not kneel. Just… live.”

They stood there a moment longer, a weight between them that had never been there before. It was like there was a bridge now between them, and Cin could not, would not, cross it. 

When the lift arrived, he stepped on. Yoda stayed where he was, the distance between them more than just physical. He took a deep breath and forced the barest smile. 

“Now, I’m going to go give my padawan brother shit. He’s a captive audience and can’t escape me this time.”

Yoda chuckled and shook his head as the doors closed. 

Let it never be said that Cin didn’t take his role of the annoying younger padawan brother to heart. Someone had to beat Yan with the stick that was always shoved up his ass.

7938.5.5

A’den.

Rage.

He knew the feeling intimately by now.

He had been filled with it so many times, and for so many years. 

He lived with it for so long that it no longer had the bite of burning fire. No. It felt like ash. Bitter, ever-settled in his chest, calcified like stone. The weight of it was a part of him now. 

When he was younger, it defined who he was. Wadth Viszla, the rage of Mandalore. His rage had been lightning in his veins, righteous, blinding. Now it was quieter. Colder. Older.

But no less deadly. 

Galidraan had torn something out of him. A piece of him was gone that had been there before. It was like durasteel wires had snapped in his soul, and now the jagged edges were left cutting him raw. It could be what the Jedi had called bonds, what the child of his sister’s son had. It would make sense. So many children of Mandalore were lost. He could still feel the echo of them, just out of reach in the forge of his mind. 

He hadn’t cried, not in front of anyone. But there were nights, deep in the belly of Coruscant’s Mandalorian neighborhood, where he’d bent over the coals and screamed into the flames of the forge until his throat burned. 

Rage pierced him like a blade against his ribs.

Impossible to ignore. 

But he was old.

He is so old, and he is feeling his age more now than ever before. Guilt haunted him each day. Ben’ayan had urged Jango to let go of his revenge, begged him not to go after Kyrtsad. They hadn’t listened. Wadth hadn’t listened. He passed it off as some star shit, messing with his perception. He was wrong. He should have pushed Jango to listen to his little brother. He should have done something, anything, to keep their young leader with them. 

He hadn’t.

He failed Jaster. 

He couldn’t fail his sister's son again.

He couldn’t, not when Ben’ayan, still a child, was so much like Jaster was. The child was breaking his heart without even knowing it. 

It wasn’t as if the boy was trying to crush his heart, but he did it so seamlessly. 

He kept his emotions close to his chest, unwilling for ‘outsiders’ to see, to know. Perhaps it was because he was star-touched, or maybe the stars had shown him what would happen, but the child didn’t cry after that first day. Instead, he seemed to pull on determination like it was armor and got down to business. He somehow managed to slice into Jango’s files and get the contract for Galidraan and the list of every individual who went with their young leader to that cursed planet. 

Then that stubborn boy wrote letters to the surviving family and sent them a portion of the blood money in accordance with the number of losses they suffered. It wasn’t fair, and it wouldn’t make it right, but little Ben’ayan was doing his best. He hadn’t even kept any of the money for himself. 

Wadth asked, of course, but the boy only turned his gray eyes to him and shrugged. 

“Ba’vodu,” the child said, “we’re a clan of two. The Jedi are looking after my needs, and you’re the goran. I have no need for the blood money, but they lost their supporters. They need it more than either of us.”

There was no arguing.

It was just a painful reminder. This was Jaster’s child: strong, strong-willed, smart, selfless, and resilient. The way the others looked at him, responded to him, the way the Manda moved when he spoke, he had no doubt what would happen when he passed his ver’goten. 

This child was going to be their Mand’alor.

He could only hope and pray to the stars that Ben’ayan would be able to lead them longer than Jaster and Jango did.

Hoped that he would die before this child did.

He couldn’t survive his death too. It would kill him. If not his old body, then his soul would not survive.

For now, all he could do is watch and pray. 

Ben’ayan moved around the neighborhood center courtyard with a mischievous glint in his eyes. He was handing out bowls of their family tiingilar, which was known for being one of the spiciest, to unsuspecting (and some suspecting) Jedi guards. Every time one of the guards started to choke or cough, he would grin wickedly. That was a Mereel smile if he had ever seen one. It was cute, watching him bounce away to get another bowl for someone else, a small piece of the old him peeking out. 

“You’d think that some of them would be used to the spice by now.” One of the guards said as he slid up next to him. Wadth grunted, still watching Ben’ayan move around. 

“Outsiders can’t handle the mouthburn.” He said, not wanting to look away from the child. A small, irrational part of him said that if he looked away, the boy would disappear.

“How would one go about not being an outsider?” the guard asked. 

Wadth turned slowly to look at the guard. It was the guard who was always around Ben’ayan, the blonde one who helped with his future sight. 

“A clan accepts you,” Wadth said simply. 

“Is there a way to form a new clan?” the guard asked.

Wadth looked at the guard critically, unsure what the Jedi wanted.

“Yes… Why?”

“We would like to form a clan of our own.”

“We?” he asked. The guard nodded. 

“The temple guards. We deliberated, have been deliberating for a while, since Jaster. We finally put it to a vote, and it was unanimous. We would like to be a clan of our own, Mandalorians.”

“You would swear the resol’nare?” Wadth asked, not truly thinking that the Jedi would be willing to go that far. 

“Yes.”

Wadth froze.

He wasn’t supposed to say yes. There had always been a clear line between them and the Jedi. The Jedi were just learning, only culturally, only a part of the contract… now….

“Are you the one to speak on their behalf?”

“They voted that I be their representative as the head of their clan. Cin is our leader as the Jedi guards, but he has not been able to join us here as often.”

Wadth watched him. He was sincere. It almost made him mad, but he remembered hearing the rumors. This was the same man who had been disowned by his parent. The same one Rur Detta had tried to adopt  

Rur Detta had tried to adopt him. One of the Jedi who treated Ben like he was kin.

He wanted to refuse. He really did. 

It would be so easy to reject him now, before anything went further. So easy to push back. To punish these Jedi in place of those who had killed his people. No one would know what he told the guard. 

But…

A clan in the heart of the Jedi temple?

A clan that answers to House Mereel?

A clan sworn to protect Ben’ayan.

Now, that meant something.

That was a safeguard. A connection to their people that Ben’ayan would need. 

That was a hope… and a plan. 

Wadth took the hammer and tongs from his belt, raised them above his head, and struck them together. The loud clang of the Beskar tools hitting had the usual immediate response. Everyone in the vicinity fell silent. T-visors and eyes turned to him. He made the sign to alert the clan and house leaders to gather in the meeting hall. 

“Come.” He ordered the Jedi, and he turned and strode into the meeting hall. He felt the Jedi following and went to the front of the meeting hall. When he turned, though, to his shock, there amongst the other ladders stood Jaster’s little Ben’ayan.

But he wasn’t just amongst them, he was in front of them. In the position Jaster would have stood.

Surely there was no doubt. Ben’ayan Mereel would be the next Mand’alor of the true Mandalorians. 

“Why have we been called ot meet, Goran?” Ben’ayan asked loudly for all in the hall to hear. 

“I have been approached by one of the Jedi guards. They wish to be children of Mandalore under a clan of their own, through House Mereel.”

As expected, arguing started immediately. 

Except Ben’ayan. He stood still and silent, looking at the guard, who looked back unwaveringly. He could only assume it was the shit where those touched by the stars could communicate with their minds. A minute passed, and Ben’ayan nodded.

“Enough!” Ben’ayan shouted. He stepped up and turned to face all the leaders. “The guards have my support.”

There was a beat of silence, not long, but just long enough to think the arguing might continue. But, eventually, there was a majority agreement. 

Clan Aran joined under house Mereel with Feemor Sthal as their clan leader. 

Wadth could only hope they wouldn’t regret it.

7938.28.5 

Everyone kept saying Jango was dead. 

He wasn’t.

Ben refused to believe it.

He could still feel the bond they shared. The one that told him whenever his Ori’vod was planetside. The one that let him know that his jare’la ori’vod was hurt , or really needed to sleep. He could feel it still. It was faint, muffled like he was deep under water, but still there. It didn’t have the burning, cutting feeling that the hollow space where Buir’s presence used to be. It didn’t scream of loss and pain when he brushed it. 

It was alive. 

And if it was alive, Jango was alive. 

So he kept trying.

He tugged on the bond. Gently at first, because Jango didn’t like the feel of Ben tugging on the bond, then with more force the longer it went on. When he meditated, he sent thought after thought down the threads. Sometimes it was just feelings, his worry, his sadness, his longing for Jango’s return. Other times, he tried to shout across the distance between them. 

“K’oyacyi,” he’d order, trying to use the stern voice Buir used to use on them. Only to end up crying minutes later, “You promised. You have to come back. You have to come back for me. Gedet’ye. Gedet’ye ori’vod.” 

There was never an answer. 

No stirring of feelings, no acknowledgement.

There was just… nothingness. 

But the bond never snapped. 

So he only had one other jare’la option left. Master Yoda had told him, rather sternly, not to do what he was going to do. The same thing Feemor had warned him about, in the quiet way that meant he was speaking from hard-earned experience, the reason for his hovering. Master Drallig had told him that any attempts were stupid. Said that it was one of the reasons Buir had brought him to them in the first place. 

But he had to try. 

He couldn’t let it go. 

Jango was lost , and this was something he could do. 

So he slipped out of the creche, avoiding the guard rotations like the pro he had become over the many years he spent at the temple. He crept into the room of a thousand fountains, moving along the shadows, and found a spot against a large tree with branches that hung down like a curtain of leaves. He nestled in between the roots, sinking into a comfortable meditation pose. Then he closed his eyes, drew in a deep, slow breath, letting it out gently. He could feel the currents of the force, brushing past him, like always. He could feel the steady hum of the temple life in the background, the distant thrum of kyber crystals nestled in lightsabers, hear the muted swirl of a thousand conversations, the almost-not-there echo of ships coming and going. Everything here, in the near present. 

He ignored it all.

He was single-minded, had to be. There was only one thing that mattered.

The bond he had with Jango. 

Trying to grab the bond now was like trying to find a waterlogged rope, half-buried in mud. He knew it was still there. He grabbed it with both hands. 

Then he dove in.

The currents of the force rose to meet him immediately. But they didn’t swirl around him like the other Jedi had described it to be. It could have been because the other Jedi weren’t as strongly connected to the unifying force, like he was, or maybe because he was Mando. Maybe the force was different for mandos because they were stubborn by nature, and the force needed to be strong-handed? Instead, the force grabbed him and pulled.

It was too much.

Everything surged around him like a riptide, and for a moment, he wasn’t holding onto Jango’s bond. Everything around him burned. Stars were being born, worlds were dying, there were people laughing and crying, fighting and making peace, dying and being born. The tide wanted to pull him to them. Pull him into the endless cycle. 

“Nayc.” his own voice was small in the roaring, endless space. He trained his focus on only one target. Only one thing mattered. 

Jango. 

Only his brother mattered.

He pushed against the tide. Pushed against the will of the force. He followed the path through light and shadows, through burning stars and empty space.

He lost all sense of shapes and sounds. The strain pained him, but he was so close. He pulled him self along the bond, one hand over the other, until he got a flicker of something. 

A thick, cloying smell in the air, making it hard to breathe. The feel of grainy dust and oil on his skin. Metal corridors hummed with the deep vibrations of a ship’s engines.

“Ben’ika,” Jango’s voice slurred and echoed in his head. 

“Ni olar! Vaii gar?” Be asked. 

“Nayc, nayc,” Jango muttered. But before Ben could respond, the current grabbed him and yanked him away, pulling him through its deep waters, dragging him down. 

A sea of soldiers stretched on as far as he could see. White armor glistened more like bleached bones than cin vhetin under a cold sun. They didn’t speak. They didn’t need to. Their boots struck the ground in perfect rhythm. It was like the ticking of a clock, counting down to something he couldn’t know, but it also matched the internal beats of the war drums of the manda. 

One helmet turned toward him, the visor he wore catching the light. The man inside didn’t move, but Ben felt the recognition, like a hand gripping his heart. It was not love, nor was it comfort. It was just unshakeable knowledge. This man was going to change his life.

There was a tug. 

“Ben,”  a voice called his name.

“-old on” the voice was far away, barely breaking through the roaring waves.

The cold gleam of the sun shifted. 

Heat slammed into him, choking and relentless. The air shimmered with it, thick with the scent of scorched metal and burning insulation. 

He stumbled through narrow corridors that groaned and shuddered under the strain. Panels spat sparks that burned through his sleeves as alarms howled above his head. His head throbbed painfully, and a deep ache made his world spin as he ran.

He ran because he had to.

Not to save himself, though. There was something, someone, he needed to reach. He knew, somehow, if he stopped, they would be lost. 

He covered his mouth with his arm as he rushed through the smoke.

He was so close. 

Then a blast door sealed just ahead, cutting off his access. 

He slammed into the doors, unable to stop fast enough. The doors were already blisteringly hot, searing his skin the second he made contact. As much as he wanted to deny it, he knew he was too late.

The force held onto him, whispering that he’d always be too late. 

“-he’s slipping”

“Don’t lose him.”

“Can’t-”

The heat of the flames disappeared in an instant, replaced by unimaginable coldness.

The collar cut into his skin, weighing heavily over his neck and shoulders. It was too tight. It made even breathing or swallowing his own spit difficult. The inner probes dug into the flesh of his neck and pierced him if he moved too fast. Others around him trudged along the tunnels in silence, their skin pale with lack of sunlight and eyes hollowed. 

There was no hope. 

The smell of sweat and metal and something sharp, a chemical tang that burned his nostrils and throat, told him where he was. It was… important. He should know, even if there wasn’t a word for it. 

He ached from the work. He didn’t have the muscles built for this, and he felt… cut off, for some reason. The whip burned what muscles he did have. 

There was someone there with him when the lights went off at night. When the others got too close, he would pull him close, tucking him between him and the cold wall. A shield and a knife. 

But the ache of the collar sat heavily all the time. 

You will know chains, the force seemed to say. 

“Obi-Wan,” a voice called out to him. It stuck him. 

That wasn’t his name. 

The force gripped him harder, pulling him deeper

“Back to us come- now-”

The world turned to ash, and the cold disappeared.

The sky was filled with smoke and ash, colored like a deep bruise. The ground was cracked and littered with rubble from mortar shells and fallen buildings. 

He was sure that at some point, however long ago it might have been, the city was filled with life. Now, none of that livelyness was gone. Now it was all jagged teeth and open wounds. The streets were destroyed. No one wanted to be seen, so when they moved outside, it was quickly, eyes looking out for danger.

A child ran past him.

And in their little hands, a too-large rifle. Their green eyes were too old, and their cheeks were too hollow. 

Hunger gnawed at him, making his hands tremble. 

They got rations. He wanted to eat it. He knew he needed the energy. But he had the force. He could last longer. 

He handed off to the ones who needed it. 

Hunger never faded.

He stood over a crate, a map drawn on flimsy spread across it. 

There were no easy choices. 

Send them to the unknown, or stay where it will get worse. 

Blasterfire came raining down on them. 

He had no lightsaber to redirect the shots. There was no singing kyber to shield the innocent. 

A boy fell… he wasn’t older than ten. A bolt burned through his arm.

His rifle slipped from his fingers as he collapsed into the mud. 

He met the child’s gaze, and he watched as the life left them. The boy knew it was coming. There was no peace in the death. 

He would always fail, and he’d be the one to survive and remember.

“-chor him.”

“-s going too deep”

“I’m trying”

The voices echoed around him, getting louder. He knew those voices… Feemor. One of them was Feemor.

Sand burned underneath him, reflecting the heat of the unrelenting sun. 

A chittering cheer rose around him. It was the sound of thousands come to watch a death sport. He was pushed forward and chained to a post. The walls were high, entrances blocked shut, and armed hostels all around him. There was no escaping. Above the walls, observing the scene, a man in battered armor, every line of his stance static defiance. He couldn’t take his eyes away from the man. It was a man, he was sure. 

And he knew him. 

His heart ached just seeing him.

The sand shifted, and battle raged around him. 

A violet lightsaber flashed. The armored man tried to shoot the Jedi as he backed away. He was too slow. The blade swept down, and his helmeted head fell to the ground feet away from his body. 

Ben screamed.

The moment reset.

He watched it again. 

The violet blade cutting through the air, and a blue kute.

His brother’s head was flying through the air before landing and rolling to a stop.

The armored man was his brother.  

Ben cried, and a pressure built around him. 

It happened again.

And again.

And again.

“Ben! NOW!” The shout rippled through the battle. A familiar presence wrapped around him and pulled. His vision went white. 

Ben gulped for breath that seemed to burn his lungs. There was too much pressure. He felt too heavy. There was noise around him, but all he could hear was the hammering of boots in an endless march. A keening whine escaped him.

“Easy now.”

“Get him on his side-”

“Don’t. Don’t touch the collar.”

Collar.

His hands flew to his throat. Fingers scratching at the thing around his neck. It was too heavy. Too tight. 

It was all still there. Danger in the dark. The burn of a whip on his back. The heavy smell of fire and iron, of burning flesh. 

His stomach twisted. Hunger gnawed like a familiar creature that made him its home. The hollow space between his ribs and spine would never be filled. Nothing would fill the emptiness. He couldn’t eat. Others needed to eat first. He could last longer. 

Someone pressed a cup to his lips. Water sloshed inside, clean, cold, but it held the grit of mud and ash. He spat it out, gasping, because he could still hear it. The soft voice of a child trying to comfort the dying in a ruined street as blaster fire sprayed over them. 

The voices in the room grew closer. 

“You with us?”

“Ben, look at me.”

He did, and the faces blurred. For a moment, they weren’t the people here at all. They were strangers in armor, or in tattered tunics, or battle leathers. They were soldiers, and slaves, and children with rifles too big. They were the man in armor on the sand, fear and panic flowing from him as the violet blade fell. 

Ben blinked hard. 

He wasn’t here. The sand wasn’t here either. 

But he could feel it in his bones, the heat bleeding through his clothes. He could feel the thump of the helmet hitting the ground over and over.

His breath hitched.

The message from the force was cold and certain, lingering like a permafrost on the edges of his thoughts.

This was the pattern. This was his life. All he loved would fall.

He curled forward, hands gripping his knees, but it wasn’t enough to shake the feeling. The force tugged at him, waiting for him to let go just a little bit. It was waiting, just behind his eyes. 

He knew, with a deep aching certainty and dread, that the force hadn’t shown him everything. 

Not yet.

It was supposed to be a nice, peaceful night on patrol. For ONCE, nothing was supposed to happen to him when he was on duty. No drama, nothing burning, no panicked calls or emergency reports about the little menace turned mascot. 

Jaa even allowed himself the luxury of daydreaming about the end of his shift, kicking his boots off, drinking a nice cup of tea that may or may not be mostly liquor, and the blessed sound of silence . 

But no. 

It must have been the Manda that decided to kriff his plans.

The Manda had different plans. 

He and the trainee had just cut into the north approach to the room of a thousand fountains when the air went all strange. 

Not colder or hotter… but… heavier . 

It was like a weighted blanket laid over the whole garden. Nothing in the area was right . The water didn’t fall in gentle whispers like they usually would, they hissed and roared. Jaa narrowed his eyes and slowed. Kanar, to his credit, noticed too. 

Good.

He was having some worries about the trainee. The kid was shaken up after the hanger incident, but whatever had gone through his head, it sure helped shake him up. It was like the whole ordeal was the jolt he needed to actually take the position seriously. 

“Sir?” Kanar asked, mask tipping to look towards Jaa. 

“Feel that?” Jaa murmured. 

Kanar nodded. “Static.”

Jaa hummed and let his hand drift to the hilt on his hip. An old habit, he didn’t think he’d have to fight, but it was better to have the habit than not. He tapped on some of his thermal scanners as he scanned the alcoves, willow curtains, and benches with his eyes and in the force. The place should have been empty this late at night. The elders who liked to garden had finished for the day, the meditation nuts had been sent away to their cells (rooms, they were sent to their rooms), and all the younglings were supposed to be asleep.

Supposed to be.

His mask pinged at the same time he saw it himself. The shape of a small figure tucked at the base of the great drooping-branch tree. 

A familiar figure. 

The little menace.

It was always the little menace.

He almost smiled. The brat had been sneaking out of his room since before he could tie his boots. At this point, he hardly expected anything else.

He turned on his external speakers.

“Alright,” he muttered, marching towards the tree. “To bed with you, menace. You know the rules. You don’t gotta go to sleep, but you gotta be in a room. Your choice of room, but-”

He pushed through the hanging leaves, and the smile on his face died instantly. 

Something was wrong.

Very wrong.

Ben’s posture was too rigid, his face too still. He was coated in a layer of gleaming sweat that soaked through his nightclothes. His breathing was shallow. Not just shallow, but wrong . Wrong, like he was forgetting to breathe and then remembering all at once. 

Jaa dropped to a knee and reached out, setting a gauntleted hand on the child’s shoulder. 

It was like touching a live wire.

The force didn’t have the natural soothing hum. It dragged and sparked. It was as thick as syrup and swirling like a whirlpool. But it wasn’t around Ben, it was pulling into him, as if something inside the child was caught and pulling. 

“Menace,” Jaa snapped. “Ben. k’olaror”

No response. 

Not even a twitch of recognition.

Instead, leaves around them began to lift and twirl. The fountains near them seemed to shudder and go silent as the falling water stilled and rose. 

Kanar stepped in behind him and sucked a breath through his teeth. “Sir-”

“Go. Find Healer Che. Com Feemor and Cin, tell them it’s the kid.”

Kanar bolted.

Jaa settled down where he was, a firm hand never leaving the kid’s shoulder. 

“You come back now, kiddo,” he said softly, because sometimes the menace would listen when the voice got quiet. The former Mand’alor used to get quiet when he scolded his kids. “Whatever you’re chasing, it’ll be there tomorrow.”

The air tightened again, and it almost felt too heavy for him to breathe. The leaves started spinning faster in the air and bobbing up and down like they were in an earthquake. Even the little pebbles along the paths started to rattle against the flagstones as Jaa started to taste ozone.

“Enough,” he ordered the room, because if he couldn’t yell at the Force, he could at least pretend. 

Once again, there was no response from the menace. 

Jaa cursed and slid his one arm around the kid’s back and the other under his legs. The pull under his hands was worse now, the way the current gets when a floodgate opens. If Ben were a line, Jaa would have sworn something was reeling him in. 

“Absolutely not on my watch, Ben.” He groaned and lifted. “Come on. Kiddo, hold on.”

Ben was lighter than he remembered the kid being. A twelve-year-old should certainly weigh more than a nine-year-old. But then again, the child had been hollowed by grief recently, and was currently hot with a fever. The heat of it rolled off him, and Jaa could feel it through the thick weave of his uniform.
The moment he got Ben off the ground, the garden reacted .

The nearest fountain geysered, slamming a column of water up into the air, and it fell back down in a heavy sheet, hammering on the tiles. The branches above them snapped and whipped, a storm without wind. Pebbles jumped and skittered, then lifted, moving about the air like a school of fish. 

“Alright.”He grunted and gripped the kid tighter as he stood. “We’re done here.”

He stepped out through the curtain of leaves. 

The pressure wave slapped him hard the second he stepped out. It was hard enough to force him to stagger. The pebbles in the air went wild, hissing past his greaves, ricocheting off the trunk of the tree, and cracking slate. None of them touched him. None touched the boy. It was as if the Force itself set the rule: break anything you’d like, but not them.

By the time Jaa hit the main path, Kanar was already sprinting back with a group of beings behind him. Two figures in full guard kit, one he hoped was Feemor. Half a step behind the two was Healer Che, her leku twisting in worry as she ran. A few feet behind them, barreling around the curve was Cin, thankfully, as well as Mace and Yoda. 

Jaa did not have time to applaud their promptness, because at that moment Ben jolted in his arms and went rigid. His back bowed, and fingers clawed at nothing. A high, thin wheeze tore through the child’s throat before it cut out. His eyes, while still closed, darted under the lids like he was watching things rapidly passing before his eyes. Healer Che noticed immediately.

“Seizure,” She snapped, moving faster than before, and past the two guards. She pressed a hand to Ben’s forehead as Jaa ran and kept pace with him. “There’s Force interference. He’s too deep.”

She dropped her hand and pulled out a com and started sending messages. 

“Give him here.” Feemor’s voice rang from one of the guards 

“We don’t got that time,” Jaa grunted. He couldn’t let go of the kid. Couldn’t. Because he knew if he did, he’d lose the small grasp he had on the kid’s presence in the force. 

“Then I’ll keep up with you,” Feemor said. He took one of Ben’s limp hands. “Hey, Ad’ika. Just follow my voice. Time to come back to us.”

The other guard stuck close to Feemor, worry tinging the force. 

“He’s not talking,” the modulated voice of the other guard said. 

“He doesn’t always talk when he’s in a vision. But I don’t think this is a vision.”

A stone bench cracked down its center as they passed. It started as a hairline fracture at first, then it became a clean split. Another fountain burst its bearing and threw a fan of water that splashed the path in sheets. 

None of it touched them. 

As they rushed through a doorway, Master Windu had to duck a flying shard of duracrete. 

“Force blast it, someone ground him,” Windu said, voice icy and clipped. “ Now .”

“Set’ar, go collect the Goran, bring him here promptly. I don’t even care if you’re in uniform, just get him here.” Cin ordered. It was with this order that Jaa realized that the other guard was Tar’la and why she was so worried. She dotted on her little mascot. 

“Elek Alor.” She tapped a fist to her chest. 

“Tar’la, strip the mask and most of the uniform at the door with Worron. Move fast but don’t startle anyone.” Feemor ordered in a way that Jaa was sure had the two council members looking in confusion. 

“Elek aliit’alor.” She clanked a fist to her chest again and, after pressing a hand to Ben’s, took off running down the hall. 

The air thumped . The sound was everywhere, above, below, inside Jaa’s skull. It was like the tiles underneath their running feet were popping like overbaked bread. A statue of Sunrider split at the waist and fell in two neat halves, the top crashing to the floor with a finality that made Jaa flinch. 

“Move faster, he’s slipping,” Che said, watching a palm-sized monitor as she ran. “Pulse is unstable, he’s going hypoxic. We need to move.”

“We are moving. Don’t lose him,” Jaa growled, because yes , he was aware, thanks.

“I can’t get a good hold of him here.”

Kanar had the good sense in his head to use the force to sprint ahead of the group and clear the mostly empty corridors. He shouted at insomniactic masters to move , flagged open the doors with his access, and kept shouting. 

It seemed now that the path from the room of a thousand fountains to the halls of healing was a long, straight seam in the temple. Jaa didn’t stop.

He didn’t even blink.

His whole focus was to keep the kid centered against his chest, feeling the boy’s heat, feeling the ripple of something too big to be inside someone so small.

Shutters along the hall rattled open and slammed shut. A glass sconce shattered, and in a burst of glittering shards that fell like rain. 

They hit the last turn. 

The hall’s doors were already thrown open wide, a clearly panting Kanar at them. A bed had been rolled into a triage area. Healers were gloved and masked, a tray of antishock patches open and shining like coins. Jaa barreled through the gap as if the doors weren’t even there. 

“Here,” Healer Che ordered, pointing to a bed with her elbow, because her hands were already busy. One hand was cradling Ben’s Jaa as the other was pressing a patch at the angle of his clavicle. “Gently, heep his head to you. Good.” 

Jaa lowered him, gently, because as much as he didn’t like kids, he wasn’t gonna hurt one. The moment Ben’s weight left his arms, a pressure rose up from under the bed, like a breath turning inside out. For a heartbeat, every metal instrument in the vicinity lifted, suspended, points and edges all facing inward towards the menace, as if drawn by a magnet. Windu’s hand flicked, no saber, just will, and everything clattered harmlessly to the floor. 

Che was already typing a code into the rail’s panel. “Seal the bed. Negative feedback coil.” 

The mattress hummed low, the thin blue nimbus of a field sprang up around it, crackling. They immediately move the bed into a private room and shut the door. 

Cin moved on instinct, pressing a rebreather over Ben’s mouth and nose. “Come on, ad’ika. In. Out. Hallur. That’s it.”

Master Yoda hobbled up to the head of the bed. He set his small, clawed hand on either side of Ben’s temples, and for a heartbeat, the chaos in the room seemed to lean towards him, like it recognized a threat. 

“Obi-Wan,” Yoda said, voice low enough to thread under bone. “Hear you, we do. Hold on, you must. Back to us, come, now.”

The field shuttered again as the force surrounding Ben fought. Jaa could feel it, feel it the way you feel a beast test a fence. Not rebellion. Not defiance. Will . The boy was pulling against something he believed mattered more than his own breath. 

“Anchor him.” Master Windu ordered, standing to the side and looking tense.

It was then that Feemor truly moved. 

He pressed a hand to Ben’s forehead as the other found his chest. 

“Cin,” he said shortly as he closed his eyes. 

“Got you,” their alor said as he grabbed Feemor’s shoulder and closed his eyes in concentration. The force around them shifted heavily. 

“He’s going too deep.” Healer Che worried, looking at Feemor with concern. 

“I’m trying to reach him,” Feemor grunted as he closed his eyes. 

The bed’s frame groaned. A wall over Jaa’s shoulder fissured in a fine spiderweb from corner to corner. A light fixture went off with a loud pop and showered the floor with glass. None of it touched the bed. None of it touched the people. 

“Ben! NOW!” Feemor shouted. 

Then the world dropped in the same way a lift sometimes lurches when you don’t brace. The air compacted into Jaa’s ears and then let go with a soft crack he had felt more than heard. 

Ben woke with a gasp and a whine in the back of his throat.