Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Standing amidst the corpses of his fallen comrades the man glowered at his most hated enemy. Without looking away he spoke to the man at his side, his voice strained with barely contained rage. “This is your fault, Montross. We should already have been off this mudball by now. If we survive this you’re out of my crew for good. Understand?”

The dark haired lunatic on the ridge cackled madly, his helmet lost somewhere. “If you survive,” he mocked, “not likely!” Raising his left gauntlet a manic light shone in his eyes as he activated a wrist rocket. It soared towards the ground at Jaster’s right, separating him from Montross. “You stole the Clans ou from under me and left me to die on Concord Dawn! I won’t let you escape this time, Mereel!” He screamed, like the mad creature he was.

Falling to his hands and knees he tried to see through the smoke and dust caused by the rocket. Hearing the sound of a jetpack ignite he turned to spy his SIC already in the air. From somewhere beyond the smoky haze he could hear the tank’s repeating blaster begin to spin up. Jumping to his feet he held his arm in the air and barked a command. “Montross! Airlift- now!”

“Sorry Jaster, I’m through taking orders from you. But I’ll be sure to take good care of my new troops!” The man jeered down at him from the safety of the air.

“Montross, you traitor!” Jaster snarled, realizing too late the trap that had been laid for him. Unable to do anything to stop his former SIC he watched the man turn and flee the battlefield. Leaving Jaster alone to face down Tor and his tank.

That bastard! That fucking backstabbing dar’manda coward! This had been part of the plan, hadn’t it? He never should have ignored the warning signs. Everything about this job had screamed ‘trap’ but he’d been so worried about the lack of jobs he hadn’t felt able to refuse. Vizsla and the Kordans didn’t even attempt to shoot down the easy target of Montross. All of their focus is on Jaster.

Tor began to cackle again, great heaving laughs that had the crazed man bending nearly in half. “It’s time to get rid of you once and for all, Mereel!” Swinging the tank’s guns around he strafed the ground around Jaster’s feet, forcing him to leap out of the way.

If his life hadn’t been in danger he might have critiqued Tor’s crazed little quips. They sounded like the kind of lines a villain from his son’s cartoons would say. It was ridiculous coming from a full grown man.

Letting off a few blaster shots he desperately searched for any means to hide or escape. But there was nothing. He’d been caught out in the open. The only breaks in the packed earthy terrain were the corpses of honorable warriors he had led to their untimely deaths. As blue bolts of plasma came directly at him Jaster had nowhere to go. No amount of quick thinking was going to save him now.

Closing his eyes he knew his time was up. His only regret was that he was going to leave his son all alone in the world. Lamenting the fact that they didn’t have more time. All he could do now was pray to the Ka’ra and the Manda to watch over his boy. Plead with them to aid him in the responsibilities that would surely be laid upon his shoulder with the death of his buir. Even doing all he could to prepare Jango for his life as a leader in the Haat’ade he knew the boy still had much anger locked up in his soul. He would need the wisdom of the ancient Mand’alore to temper his anger and recklessness if he was going to fight for the right to be the next Mand’alor. And a cool head if he was going to face Montross and avenge Jaster’s death.

Head bowed and eyes closed he was prepared to march onward into death. But the sound of something unfamiliar coming through his helmet, and Tor cursing, caught his attention. Certain that he should be feeling pain by now from being perforated he opened his eyes. What met him was an unbelievable sight that stole his breath away.

It was a Jetii. Deflecting the bolts right back into Tor’s tank and causing it to explode.

Jaster stared in slack-jawed awe as the Jetii blurred, literally, into motion. Their pale brown cloak covering what might have been some kind of rudimentary armor. They jumped back, landing nearby, and glanced at him. “Mand’alor, how are you?” Their voice was refined and clearly held a coreworld accent.

Wait… were his ears playing tricks on him? Or maybe his helmet was malfunctioning? He could have sword the jetii just spoke to him in flawless Mando’a. But that wasn’t possible. He hadn’t heard of any jetiise knowing mando’a for at least… eight hundred years or so.

“Mand’alor, Sitrep!” The jetii said, adding the modifier for a command to their words.

Shaking himself out of his surprise he locked eyes with the jetii, not that they could see where his eyes were with his helmet in the way. Red hair, pale skin, eyes the color of clear blue skies, and a well groomed beard. Moving with the ethereal grace of a dancer they emanated a competent and confident air. Much like a veteran warrior raised to fight since birth.

It took him a moment to find his voice in the presence of his saviour. “I’m fine.” He glanced at the Kordans as they panicked over the smoking husk of a tank; fleeing in the face of Tor’s howling anger. “I owe you a debt.”

The jetii turned to him, shaking their head. “You don’t owe me-”

Tor leapt down the rocks like a man possessed, palming a weapon Jaster would recognize anywhere.

“Look out!” At his shout the jetii turned and met the darksaber with their own azure blade.

An almost roguish smile crossed their face. “Hello there!” They said in a friendly voice. “I was wondering if you would come down to face me with honor or not.” The smile on their face was serene, but the look in their eyes was sharp.

Jaster nearly whistled at the subtle dig at Tor’s cowardice. The more he was in the presence of the jetii the more intrigued with them he became.

To snarled something incomprehensible in his rage and swung the darksaber with what might have looked like practiced ease to an outsider. But next to a jetii it was like night and day. The jetiise built, maintained, and trained to use a jetii’kad since they were children. While Tor had not been raised to wield the darksaber.

He never stood a chance.

The redheaded jetii outclassed Tor in every way. Taunting him in that posh and too polished mando’a as they effortlessly deflected each strike. It was like watching a veteran ori’ramikad playing with a child just learning the basics of combat. No matter how much power Tor tried to put behind his swings the jetii was just too fast. Their defence was nearly impenetrable.

"I hope you have made your peace with this life, Kyr'tsad'alor. For I represent the untold lives you have destroyed, and their demands for justice." Although they did not raise their voice Jaster could feel the hairs on his arms and the back of his neck rise as a shudder ran down his spine. There was power in this jetii's words that resonated within the Manda.

Tor was desperate now, eyes wild and form sloppy. There was a fear and desperation about him now as he tried to backa way from the relentless assault. Yet somehow, inexplicably, the jetii got faster; their strikes even more brutally punishing than before. Then with one swift strike of an azure blade Tor Vizsla’s head was separated from his body. The head landed nearby with a meaty squelch while the body stumbled and finally collapsed unceremoniously to the ground.

It was over. But even seeing it with his own eyes it was hard to believe. He almost didn’t want to give in to the feeling just in case it was all a dream. Then the jetii let out a long tired sigh. Bending down they rummaged around for a moment before picking something up from the ground. Straightening they stared down at their hand for a moment before turning toward him. It was the Dha’kad’au.

Intelligent blue eyes looked over his armor and caught on the Kyr’bes. Quietly, almost reverently, they held out their arm to him. "I believe this belongs to you, Mand'alor."

Now that he was not about to die the first thought that came to mind was just how damned mandokar the jetii before him was. A close second was was how there was no way in hell that he was taking the Dha’kad’au from their hand. Even if he could not feel the Manda echoing between them he could not take the darksaber. It was not his victory and to accept it would be a stain upon his honor.

When he didn’t move the jetii cocked their head to the side, studying him. They glanced at the hilt in their hand and cleared their throat awkwardly. "Perhaps you didn't hear me, Mand'alor? I believe that this belongs to you. Or… is it that I am a jetii?"

Eyes snapping up from the hilt he shook his head. “No, jetii, I heard you the first time. I just cannot accept what you are offering.” Even if having the darksaber would solidify his rule with some of the more eccentric clans. "The Dha'kad'au has always been won by right of combat. You defeated Tor Vizsla. Now it belongs to you until you lose it in combat to someone else." But Jaster had a feeling it would not be lost again any time soon. This jetii was far too skilled and something in the Manda made him believe the darksaber itself wished to stay with them.

The jetii’s blue eyes widened and for the first time they seemed uncertain. "I am not worthy of such a blade. It cries out for an honorable mando'ad to wield it, and I am no mando'ad." It sounded like an admission of guilt.

Without a word Jaster reached out to curl his hand over the jetii’s, forcing their fingers to curl over the hilt as well. Pushing their hand back towards their chest in an obvious refusal he smiled. “You could have fooled me.” He said with all honesty.

What little he could see of the redhead’s cheeks beneath their beard quickly turned red, their pale skin making it obvious how flustered his compliment made them. It was quite endearing. And now that he was able to look at his leisure he found much about the jetii’s appearance that was pleasant. Sobering he pushed the feeling of attraction to the back of his mind and straightened, falling back into his role as Mand’alor. “Why did you risk your life to save mine, jetii?” It was the first thing he should have asked, all things aside. “How did you even get here in time to intervene?” No one should have known about their mission to Korda VI. Tor knowing was clearly a trap set by Montross. But a jetii?

The jetii was staring down at Jaster’s hand still curled around their own. Their eyes found his past the visor and they took a deep breath, only to let it out again slowly. "You, Mand'alor Jaster Mereel, are the only hope for the future of your people. I don't know how much you know or understand about the Force but sometimes it sends those who are attuned to it visions of the future."

Sucking in a breath he cursed. Seers! Of course the jetiise would have their own Seers among their members. Anyone with a strong enough connection to the Manda had a strong chance of experiencing visions of the past or the future. If the jetiise were tapping into a cosmic energy similar to the Manda then it made sense that they would be able to see the future as well.

“You may not believe me, but in my vision I watched you die. Betrayed by someone you trusted. Leaving your son as the only viable candidate for Mand’alor.” Their eyes turned sad and their shoulders sagged as if exhaustion were nipping at their heels. “Later when your son is older the Haat’ade are tricked by a planetary governor and pulled into a trap set by Kyr’tsad. The governor faked a report to the jetiise and begged for aid.” They pulled in a shuddery breath and Jaster was hanging on their every word. He could feel the Manda winding around them, whispering truth. “It was a slaughter.” They swallowed. “Your son managed to kill six jetiise with his bare hands, earning him the title of Jedi Slayer. But he was eventually overcome by grief and exhaustion. The Jetiise, mourning their own dead, left his punishment up to the governor, with the belief that he would be executed for his many crimes. Instead he was stripped of his armor and sold into slavery.” The last word was like acid on their tongue, spat with a vitriol that was surprising coming from a jetii.

“Ka’ra preserve me.” He muttered, horrified by the fate of his son. Just imagining his little Jan’ika in chains had his blood boiling in his veins.

The jetii gave him a sympathetic look full of pain and regret. It… aged them. Made them look older than their young appearance suggested. “Without the Haat’ade around to keep them in check Kyr’tsad would run rampant. The New Mandalorians would make further alliances with the Republic and…” they stopped, as if unable to go on.

Jaster couldn’t help himself. He ran a thumb comfortingly over the jetii’s wrist, encouraging them to continue. He wanted them to know he was there to support them in the moment. He probably should have been wary of a trick but the honest emotions in the jetii’s eyes were too sincere to be faked. Not to mention the Manda singing in his soul.

“The New Mandalorians would do all in their power to kill the spirit of the Manda, using the Republic as a cudgel to quell any dissent. They will burn your texts, shatter temples, destroy artifacts, disband the clans, and ban your armor. They will gouge out the very heart of Manda’yaim in their zeal to defang the mando’ade in the eyes of the Republic. All for the sake of a false peace that can never last.” By the end their voice was thick with emotion and eyes bright with unshed tears.

Jaster stood transfixed. The future they spoke of was like something out of his worst nightmares. Every fear made manifest. “You came here to warn us, didn’t you?” He could feel it in his bones. “You came to preserve the Haat’ade way of life, the Way of Manda. Why?” What was in it for the jetiise? They were the ancient enemies of the mando’ade, not that Jaster believed they should be. If his predecessors made one mistake during their reigns it was siding with the insanity that was the dar’jetiise. The Sith.

The jetii bit their bottom lip and looked away, almost as if they were embarrassed. "The same reason I speak Mando'a, practice Dral'gaan, and eat spicy tiingilar- I love Manda'yaim."

Their hand trembled faintly beneath his and Jaster swallowed hard, reminding himself that a jetii was not someone he should be perceiving as a potential partner. And yet the Manda seemed almost giddy at the notion. Wetting his lips he spoke, his voice dropping lower unintentionally. “I can’t help but notice you’re also wearing armor. Maybe you’d-”

“Buir!” The shout interrupted him before he could say anything particularly awkward and for that he was thankful. He’d almost forgotten they were in the middle of a battlefield. The weighty form of his son slammed into his side, hugging the daylights out of him. The way the boy held tightly to his armor almost seemed desperate and Jaster knew he was trying not to cry from relief.

Nearby Silas stopped and gave him a quick salute. He turned to give them some space as he watched for any new enemies but it was clear his attention was divided.

Unfirtunately the appearance of his son broke Jaster’s contact with the jetii and the singing in his soul dimmed. Though he did note that it hadn’t disappeared entirely. It just became muted, distant.

With a sudden snarl his son brought up his blaster and aimed it towards the jetii. Startled Jaster quickly shoved the boy’s arm down, pointing the barrel safely at the ground. “Jan’ika! We do not aim weapons at our allies. I taught you better than that!” He admonished firmly.

Jango’s helmet whipped upward and he knew the boy was staring at him in confusion. He could practically feel the incredulity rolling off the young teen in waves. “But they’re a jetii!” He said, almost as if that explained everything. Turning he shifted so he was standing in front of Jaster, glowering at the redhead.

“I may be a jetii, but I am not your enemy.” The jetii said evenly, showing their open hands to prove they had no weapons. But Jaster could see both their lightsaber and the darksaber hanging on their belt. When they had put their weapons away he didn’t know.

He was about to explain what happened when Jango stilled beneath his hand. “I-is that-?” His hand was shaking as he pointed towards the corpse of Tor Vizsla.

Jaster sighed. He hadn’t wanted his son to find out like this. Especially after being in battle for who knows how long. Jango would already be suffering from at least some battle fatigue. But now that he’d seen the body there was no use keeping it from him. “It was.”

Jango silently stared at the headless corpse for a long moment. Jaster swore he could feel the back of his neck burning with a sense of imminent threat as the air grew heavy. Slowly loose rocks and clumps of earth began to rise all around them as his son’s breath grew ragged. Before anyone knew what he was doing Jango swung his blaster toward the corpse and pulled the trigger.

Again, and again, and again; garbled curses falling from his lips that were only half intelligible.

It near about broke Jaster’s heart to see his son like this but he didn’t try to stop him. Jango had a right to be upset and it was better he take that anger out on a corpse than let it fester inside his soul. Where it would tear him apart inside.

Grabbing Jango by the shoulders he pulled the lad back against his chest, grounding him with touch. “You’re safe, Janika. He can’t hurt anyone anymore.” He muttered, repeating the words like a mantra. He’d only seen his son like this a few times before and knew that when it was over the boy would collapse from exhaustion.

The blaster clicked but nothing came out, the clip was empty. Jango’s arm dropped to his side angrily as soul rending sobs and hiccuping breaths came from under his helmet.

Jaster’s soul ached at the sound.

Movement in front of him caught his attention and he looked up just in time to see the jetii kneel. They slowly reached out and placed a hand against Jango’s chest plate, right over the bes’karta. Before he could ask what they thought they were doing his son suddenly sagged beneath his hands. Jaster had to grab onto him quickly to keep him upright. There was a clatter as all the floating debris fell back to earth. Jango sucked in heavy gasps of air, making his helmet rattle and emit a faint static.

Carefully, as if they were handling something precious, the jetii removed Jango’s helmet and set it on the ground delicately. The expression on their face was gentle, their body language open and non-hostile. There wasn’t even a hint of the dangerous warrior that had killed Tor not moments ago. “That’s it Jango. Slow deep breaths. Don’t try to push it back down. Let it flow through you and back out again.” Beneath those gentle hands Jango’s trembling slowly eased until the lad was breathing normally again. “Just let go. Your buir has the watch.” As if those words were what he needed to hear Jango suddenly went limp. Exhaustion pulling him into oblivion.

Jaster shifted his hold on his son, lifting the boy into his arms with little effort. “What did you do, jetii?” He asked, careful to keep his tone civil and not accusatory.

Picking up his son’s helmet the jetii gently set it on top of Jango’s limp form, shifting his arms so the lad was holding his own helmet. There was a distant look in their eyes, as if they were seeing something far away. “Your son is Force sensitive. It seems he’s been subconsciously suppressing it for a long time, however.” They frowned in concern, their brow furrowing. “That can be very dangerous. Both to the one suppressing and to those around them. It could lead to irreparable damage to your son’s psyche if he were to continue this way.”

Jaster’s brows snapped upward in surprise before he scowled. How had none of the other Force sensitive verde not noticed this?

“He’s very adept at shielding and hiding his presence.” The jetii said as if reading his mind. “If I hadn’t seen him lose control like this I never would have suspected.” There was a hint of self recrimination in their tone, as if they should have known about Jango's ability to channel both the Manda and the Force.

“What are you going to do now, jetii? Are you going to return to your Temple now that you've changed the future?" He didn’t want to see them go but he knew the jetiise never stayed anywhere for long. Their home was on Coruscanta.

They hesitated. “I… no. There is nothing left for me there. Not anymore.” The pain in their voice made Jaster ache with the desire to console them.

“Silas, would you take him?” He indicated Jango with a jerk of his helmet. The young man was loyal to his son and he knew that Jango would be safe with him. So it was no hardship to hand him over. Unlike with Montross Silas practically worshiped Jango. There was no chance of betrayal from the teen.

“I owe you more life debts than I can fathom.” He said seriously, stepping into the jetii’s personal space and reaching out to hold their shoulder. “There is a place for you with me and my people, if you want it.”

“What!? I-I couldn’t. I am unworthy-”

He squeezed their shoulder in reassurance. “You have more than earned the right, jetii. I would gladly call you vod. And I won’t take no for an answer.” He said firmly. “Now, what name should I give to my people? The name of my savior.” He said lightly, chuckling.

“…thank you.” The jetii gave him a shy and tired smile, blue eyes brightening. “Ben. I am Ben Kenobi.”

Jaster nodded and gave them another gentle squeeze before letting go. “You already know who I am, Jaster Mereel of Clan and House Mereel; Mand’alor. Welcome to the Haat’ade, vod.” He knew the moment they made it to camp he was going to get many a side eye from his warriors. Not that he cared at the moment. That was for future Jaster to worry about after the long trek back to the dropships. For now he stepped back and pulled out his more serious and commanding voice. “Got enough in you to haul your shebs back to the ships?”

Ben’s eyes hardened as they squared their shoulders, like a veteran soldier steeling themselves for a long march. “Yes, Sir.”

Jaster felt a shiver of delight tun down his spine. Oh. Damn. He could get used to Ben calling him sir.

Chapter Text

They were on their way back to the landing zone, where his people had dug in their heels after most of the Kordans had broken and run, when Jaster admitted defeat. There was little he could think of to get his people to accept the Jetii’s presence. While Jaster hadn’t had much of an issue with them, more bothered by their lack of doing anything useful in the galaxy as opposed to having a negative encounter with one, a few of his verde had stories about meeting jetiise that had taken a turn for the worse. Looking over at the man, grasping at any detail he could to make this easier on himself, he blinked when something finally clicked.

“Your hair…” He said before he could stop himself. The Jetii glanced at him, obviously having heard him speak. Jaster cleared his throat, mind racing as he clung to another small tidbit he hadn’t consciously focused on earlier. “Your last name is Kenobi. Am I wrong to assume your first name is Obi-wan? That you’re a Stewjoni’ad?” Red hair and blue eyes, pale skin, and his name. He didn’t like trying to force information out of his savior, but he needed more to get his people to agree with the Jetii’s presence.

“I… yes. Although I would prefer to be called Ben.” Jaster nodded in understanding, glad just to have his suspicions confirmed. “How did you know?” He seemed almost disturbed, wary, and Jaster held up a hand in a placating gesture.

“Stewjoni’ade and Mando’ade have a long history of working together, being allies.” He hesitated, not sure if the information he was about to give would cause the Jetii more distress. “Obi-wan Kenobi, in Mando’a, roughly translates to ‘Nameless Boy of No Clan. It’s what they call lost children who cannot speak, or are too young to give their name. A placeholder until someone can either claim the child or adopt them, giving them a name.” A pained look crossed the man’s face and he turned away, making Jaster feel like a di’kut for opening his damned mouth.

“Thank you for telling me. I had always wondered what my name meant but I was unable to reconnect with my birth people. They are very insular and are not a fan of the Jetiise.” He let out a small sigh. “The Jetiise were practically all I had known since I was a baby. I was given over to the temple at only six months old, with no explanation.” Jaster felt his chest tighten slightly. To be abandoned at such a young age… it wasn’t right. Someone should have taken him in immediately, not hand him off to the Jetiise.

“That’s… odd.” The man looked back at him, eyes alight with curiosity and motioned him to continue when Jaster paused. “Both Stewjoni’ade and Mando’ade would have adopted you immediately if you had lost your clan.” Anyone able bodied and of adult age would have jumped to adopt a child, especially a baby. The fact that he had been handed over to the Jetiise suggested that something terrible had happened to his original clan.

“It doesn’t matter. I am just Ben now.” There was a moment of quiet between them before the man spoke again. “Why?” Jaster had to stop himself from reaching up and touching the back of his neck, a nervous habit whenever he was out of armor and a dead giveaway that he was flustered.

“Explaining your presence to the Haat’ade and convincing them you’re with us is going to take some work.” He said truthfully before tacking on, “but I told you that you could come with us and I meant it. I try never to swear oaths or make promises I can’t keep.” The man smiled at him.

“You are a man of honor, Mand’alor. If you need me to surrender my weapons and use something to inhibit my ability to touch the force so that your people feel safe, I will submit myself to your mercy.” Jaster was surprised at the open trust he was being shown. Nobody gave up their weapons just like that and yet the Jetii, Ben he reminded himself, had done just that.

“I don’t think that will be necessary.” Ben made a humming sound, not quite convinced. “You’re a Stewjoni’ad, a Kenobi. That means you could be related to any number of clans through blood or marriage both. And while Mando’ade don’t often care about blood when it comes to family it will mean you have a connection to us.” Jaster turned to look at him fully. “It helps that you speak Mando’a.” That at least should give everyone enough pause for Jaster to speak.

Changing gears he grinned. “And what is this?” He asked, rapping his leather covered knuckles against the poor excuse for a chest plate. “Pretty shoddy, vod. Does it actually protect anything?”

“Well there wasn’t much choice, Sir. The Jetiise don’t exactly have a proper smith I can go to, or any beskar to craft it from. Even then, I wouldn’t sully beskar’gam by wearing it. I have absolutely no right without swearing the Resol’nare.” Jaster couldn’t help thinking that Ben had more of a right to it than Tor Vizla or Montross. Resol’nare or no.

“We’ll see what we’ve got for you. There’s always extra pieces of durasteel plate lying around in case someone’s armor gets lost or damaged.” Ben nodded, making a noncommittal sound. Head swiveling to look ahead of them suddenly his eyes narrowed, sharp as a blade.

“Enemies ahead of us.” Jaster grasped his blaster tighter in his hand and signed at Silas. Ben frowned at him and shook his head, clearly not understanding. He knew Mando’a but not jor’gaan. That would have to be one of the first things Ben learned.

“How far ahead can you scout with your Jetii magic?” The man twitched at the word ‘magic’ but otherwise his face had gone carefully blank.

“I can sense life forces, I can tell you how many and roughly where they are. Seven, and fanned out ahead of us in a semi-circle, by the way.” There was a slight upward turn at the corners of Ben’s mouth as he spoke. It wasn’t quite sass, and not quite insubordination, but it was something. Something that was very distracting and should be thought about later when they were out of danger.

“Silas, watch over my son. We’ll handle this.” Ben looked at him in surprise but didn’t question him. They split up, deciding to take three enemies each and whoever was finished first could get the last straggler.

The last of Vizla’s troops didn’t give him any trouble. Too overconfident, believing in all the lies Vizla had fed them about what made a Mando’ad strong. He was surprised to find Ben with one arm around the last man’s throat, hissing something too low for jaster to pick out. The man went limp and Ben looked relieved as he dropped him to the ground. Jaster only had one question; “by hand? Why not use your jetii’kad?” Ben ran his fingers through his hair, sweeping the red strands back and out of his face.

“If I used my jetii’kad then anyone who came upon the bodies would know it was the work of a jetii. This way they don’t realize I’m with you.” Concealing his presence, making himself a hidden weapon for the Mando’ade.

“Good thinking. Let’s head back.” He turned his back to the man, trusting him.

“After you, Sir.” Came the polite reply, his voice verging on irreverent but clearly amused. Jaster’s grip on his blaster tightened in response.

When they finally made it back to camp Jango was still unconscious. He directed the lad to set Jango up in one of the medical cots to get looked at by a medic and headed for the center of camp.

As people spotted him the mood of the entire camp changed. From grief stricken and tense, to joyful and relieved the moment he came into view, to enraged a moment later. Jaster had no idea what was going on but he guessed it had to do with the Jetii walking one step behind him and to his left. Which… huh. Did the Jetiise receive military training or was it something unique to Ben?

Word of his arrival must have reached the entire camp and he could feel the low burning heat of his people’s anger, their need for vengeance. Before he could figure out what was wrong he heard blaster being fired further into camp. Jaster ran flat out toward the sound, Ben right on his heels.

What they came upon was a flurry of activity as medics helped lower the wounded to the ground and two verde held Montross to the ground, blasters aimed at his vitals as the man struggled. “What happened here!?” Jaster bellowed, his eyes narrowing at the dar’manda coward.

“ Alor. He told us you and Jango were dead and suggested he become the new Mand’alor. But many of the verde were backing Myles for the position. When we learned you weren’t dead he tried to flee, shooting the nearby verde.” Jaster’s blood boiled and he stormed over to where they were keeping the man down. Pulling out his blaster he set it against the back of Montross’s head. He could see Ben out of his peripheral and briefly wondered if what he was about to do would turn the Jetii against him.

“Montross, not only did you leave me to die at Tor Vizla’s hand, flying off like a coward,” he practically spat the word, “you were the one who got us the information for this job to begin with. This was a damned setup, wasn’t it?” The man scoffed and writhed on the ground. “What was it you said to me? ‘I’m through taking your orders. But I’ll take good care of the troops?’”

“Tor understood strength! He wasn’t weak like you, taking in some bastard child and declaring him the next Mand’alor! Now look at you, coming into camp with a Jetii! You’re weak, Mereel. You’re going to get them all killed!” The word was a sharp hiss filled with enough vitriol that Jaster could practically feel it.

“Tor understood nothing about what it means to be Mando’ade.” He stated firmly, fingers tightening around the grip of his blaster. “Montross, you turned your back on your Mand’alor, leaving him on the battlefield to die. Tried to get his son and heir killed. And worst of all; betrayed your people. Leading them into an ambush. There is only one sentence fitting for your crimes.” Without another word he pulled the trigger and Montross was dead. There didn’t need to be a trial, or any discussion, and the Mando’ade didn’t need a jury. Montross’ guilt was plain for all to see.

Slipping his blaster back into the holster he motioned for the two guards to take away Montross’ corpse. Turning he looked over at Ben and his mind went to all the issues that came with letting a jetii into their camp. He decided to try and side step the issue and bellow out; “I want everyone to rest up and then start packing, we’re leaving as soon as the repairs are finished.”

Walking over to stand near Ben he waited for someone to comment, ask a question, anything. Instead there was a low level of unease and anger around him as his verde kept glancing over at the Jetii. The redhead wasn’t any help, either. He was standing there a little stiffly, trying and failing to pretend that the stares of the mando’ade weren’t making him nervous. Jaster wanted to say something, to comfort him and reiterate his promise for a safe haven, but he couldn’t with so many of his verde around.

Thank the Manda for Myles.

“Alor, we haven’t heard from Jango’s group.” Jaster could hear the worry in his voice and reached over to give his shoulder a heavy pat of reassurance.

“Silas has Jango, my kid overdid it and ended up passing out. They’ll both be in medical.” Hearing this news about his son a ot of the nearby verde relaxed slightly. Jango didn’t realize it yet but he was more than accepted by the mando’ade as Jaster’s replacement. When the boy applied himself he was the epitome of a warrior, the kind of person all mando’ade could look up to. All he was really lacking was age and experience. Ben’s words earlier about Jango becoming Mand’alor when Jaster died on this muddy shithole came back to him and he felt a sliver of relief. He was alive, Jango wouldn’t have to deal with losing his only parent, his leader, and the stress of becoming the new leader all at once. It was a blessing from the Manda.

“Who is this, Sir? Why the hell is there a jetii on this nowhere planet, and why did he follow you home?” Ben snorted in amusement and Myles stopped speaking, turning slightly to regard the man standing next to Jaster like he belonged there.

“Right. The jetii is Ben Kenobi. He saved my life when Montross left me to die.” He let his voice carry as he spoke, wanting the mando’ade to ‘overhear’ him speaking. “Tor Vizla is dead, killed by the jetii’s blade in a duel. He has the Dha’kad’au to prove it.” Myles’ bucket wasn’t the only one to swivel toward the man’s belt in surprise, Jaster felt their interest and curiosity spike. He had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. “He also speaks Mando’a, so don’t try anything cute.”

Myles let out an exasperated sound and slipped off his helmet, dark gray eyes in a tawny face giving him an almost severe appearance. The effect was a little ruined by the laugh lines around his mouth and the dark hair that had fallen into his face. He needed a haircut. “As far as explanations go, that’s pretty straight forward. Hello, Ben Kenobi, thanks for keeping our Alor in one piece.” Jaster relaxed, believing the interrogation was over. “So how the hell did you get here and where were you hiding?” But no, no such luck. This was Myles, not Montross and… oh hell. He was going to have to promote Myles and let him in on all the big secrets. As Jaster’s new second in command he would need that information.

Ben winced slightly, shifting his weight subtly as if nervous. “Actually I crashed here. Unfortunately my transport is entirely useless. Not even worth it to go looking for the scrap.” He sighed. “If it wasn’t for my ability to use the force I would be dead at the bottom of a canyon right now. Currently I’m not even at my usual fighting power, I think twisted my leg during the crash.” Jaster frowned. Had Ben been injured this entire time? What the hell was wrong with him! Why didn’t he say anything?

“You did all that while injured? Why didn’t you say anything?” Ben gave him a charming smile but Jaster could see the slight flush of embarrassment on his cheeks.

“Yes? I mean, it’s mostly been healed with the force by now. No need to fuss.” Myles’ focus darted between them for a moment before he caught Jaster’s eye and a slight twitch of his lips made the mand’alor scowl. Myles’ eyes filled with mirth before something clicked and he turned to eye Ben from head to toe and back.

“Wait, Kenobi? As in Obi-wan Kenobi? You’re a Stewjoni’ad?” Myles was so quick on the uptake. Why had he ever promoted Montross over him?

“Ah, yes. Exactly right. But as I told our Alor, I prefer to be called Ben and will answer to such.” Jaster did a mental double take and had to fight to keep the grin off his face. Our. Ben had said ‘our’ Alor. He was already thinking of himself as one of them. Ben sighed. “Would you believe me if I said that I am about to renounce my faith and currently have nowhere else to go?” Jaster felt the spike of confusion and interest from the verde. It was so strong that it threatened to swamp him completely.

“Renounce your faith?” Myles asked slowly, as if making sure he’d heard correctly. Ben nodded slowly in confirmation.

“The Jetiise are a religious order, and I am unsure why everyone seems to forget that they are Monks. They swear vows when they are old enough to understand. Swearing not to influence politics, swearing never to rule over other sentients, and swearing to devote themselves wholly to their teachings and duty. They may not marry or have families, they may not put themselves or those they care about above their duty. But it goes deeper than that.” Jaster wasn’t sure what it was. If it was the way Obi-wan spoke their language in his accented voice or if it was how Obi-wan moved, eyes expressing his emotions freely. But every single verde within hearing range had stopped to listen to him speak with rapt attention. “They are also taught to let all of their emotions go. They are discouraged from holding on to anger or grief, for using those emotions to draw on the force can pull you toward the dark.” Ben closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “But those are all a part of their religion. There are numerous force sects out in the galaxy that have survived as long as, if not longer than, the Jetiise.”

“So… you are choosing to renounce your faith, to leave the Jetiise?” The man’s eyes hardened and he nodded.

“They are on a dangerous path right now and I cannot, in good conscience, follow them down that path.” Jaster felt as if something had slithered down his spine.

“Will there be repercussions if you leave?” While Jaster would still like to help him he couldn’t ask his verde to put their families in danger without knowing exactly what they were getting into.

“Oh, no. Anyone is free to leave the order, I’ve done it once already under… interesting circumstances.” He chuckled but it lacked the warmth of humor or amusement. It sounded almost pained and Jaster was growing more worried by the second. “It isn’t considered a punishable offense to leave the order, although they prefer one to turn in their weapon when they go as jetii’kade can be quite devastating in the wrong hands.” Considering the Dha’kad’au on his belt- no kidding. “It isn’t uncommon for an Initiate, someone approaching their teens, to request a transfer to one of the service corps or to be given the choice of a new life outside the order. It is more uncommon for Knights and very rare of the few Masters of the order to leave.” Myles’ head tilted slightly.

“And what… rank are you?” Just like that the amusement was back, along with a teasing smile that was doing things to Jaster’s poor heart.

“Master. I raised my student to the rank of Knight. He is young to be a Knight, only nineteen. But he even has his own student now…” He seemed lost in thought for a moment before sighing. “Had… I mean he had his own student.” Cold stabbed through his chest and seeped between the cracks.

“Aren’t… aren’t Jetiise raised by their teacher?” He asked, trying to keep the emotion out of his voice. He had a sneaking suspicion and didn’t like it one bit.

“They are. I had that boy from the age of nine until the age of nineteen. Ten years picking up clothes, reminding him not to miss class, teaching him to wield a jetii’kad, and stepping on all manner of machine parts. He was my gotab’ika.” That all but confirmed it. Ben had a child, a son. A son who was, if he was reading everything right, now dead. He and Ben’s… grandchild would probably be the closest equivalent.

“I…” even Myles looked shocked by how much emotion, how much raw pain, the jetii was giving off. “They are not gone, merely marching far away.” Ben sucked in a breath, his eyes looking oddly wet.

“I, yes. They are one with the force now.” He shook his head as if to clear it. “But that is in the past now. However, I cannot stay with the Jetiise. As much as I love them, they were my family, I cannot be among the ones who helped to kill my… my child.” Dammitall, he wasn’t going to even need to convince anyone of anything was he? Just taking in the expressions on uncovered faces and the body language of his fully armored verde he could already tell- they were keeping him.

“Well, since we have an extra space now it will be easy to find you a bunk on my ship.” Jaster said with a gentle smile. “Especially since Myles has just been promoted and will be moving out of his old room.” Myles looked at him, wide-eyed, before a look of annoyance came over his face.

“I guess I’ll have to clear out my things then.” He grumbled. Jaster chuckled. After the absolute shit show that had been this contract he was glad to see things were going his way. Finally looking up.

“Alor! Jango’s awake but there’s something wrong! We need you in medical, now!” Jaster paled.

Spoke too soon.

Chapter Text

As he burst into the medical tent verde and medics alike scattered, making a clear path to his son. Two medics were straining to keep his kid pinned to the bed, even as he writhed uncontrollably in pain. Jaster sank to his knees next to his boy, a gift from the Manda itself, and tried to reach out to him. At the moment Jango’s presence was as slippery as ice and as strong as beskar, there was no way he was going to reach him. Then he saw a pale hand reach out and press against Jango’s chest, gently easing him down from whatever the hell this attack was. Ben’s blue eyes were unfocused as he began to mutter under his breath.

“You must let them go, little one. You cannot follow them, you have loved ones waiting here.” Jango gasped and writhed again, shaking his head side to side almost violently. Jaster placed a hand on his son’s forehead, holding him still while Ben worked on doing… whatever it was. “You are still alive, but they are dead. You will remember them, so they are eternal.” There was something almost hypnotic about that firm, quiet, voice. Jaster could feel himself being drawn in. “Follow my voice, that’s it. Good.” Jango’s body went limp once again, his breathing slightly ragged but quickly evening out.

The medics eyed the jetii, soon to be former jetii, before looking to Jaster for an explanation. He had none to give them.

“He’s quite strong in the force. I’m surprised he’s been in control this long.” Jaster feelt more than one spike of unease at the revelation. Fuck, he hadn’t wanted that to be public knowledge.

“It’s the Manda.” He stated simply and felt the others begin to relax. The Manda they understood, it was in their souls, but the force was something that caused distress amongst his people.

“Ah, that makes sense. Forgive me, I’m still thinking in jetiise terms.” His mouth said easily while his eyes bore holes into Jaster’s head.

He was going to have to explain the Manda, wasn’t he? Then again if Ben was becoming one of them he’d feel it resonating in his soul anyway. Might as well go over it sooner rather than later.

“The Manda is the power shared by all Mando’ade. Even if someone can’t tap into the force they can reach for the Manda.” He’d seen some new Mando’ad even unlock special abilities that way and it was always a surprise. “The Mand’alor is a conduit for the Manda, can access more of it all at once than anyone else. It’s… hard to describe.” When he’d first declared himself Mand’alor, in the old ruins of the ancient temple dedicated to their ancestors, he had felt as if his entire world had suddenly expanded. He could see and hear farther, was physically stronger and healthier than before, could sense the collective moods of his people, and felt their burning determination as if it were his own. Manda’s flame had been lit inside him and others flocked to it.

“That sounds… like nothing I have ever heard before. The Jetiise can speak to each other mind to mind, if there is a pre-existing bond between them, and can sense others with the force. But we cannot share our abilities, cannot give someone who is not force sensitive the ability to touch the force.” He sounded fascinated by it, his eyes lighting up with curiosity. “Do you happen to have any old texts on the subject? Old legends and myths would do, even if they aren’t quite accurate. You can learn a lot about an ancient people by how they structure their stories and what themes are prevalent throughout.” Hm, well that was a surprise. Turned out the Jetii who could deflect blaster bolts and take down tanks was also a bit of a scholar.

Jaster tried not to think about just how much more attractive that made him. He’d always had a thing for intelligence.

“I’ll see what I have. I like to collect and preserve old manuscripts myself, so I should have something for you to read when we get back to Manda’yaim. Jan’ika likes the old legends, he could probably recite them to you word for word if you asked him.” Jaster looked back down at his child, stroking his hair to assure himself that the boy was still okay. He may be fourteen now, allowed to wear armor and march into battle with them, but to Jaster he was still that scared eight year old boy who’d saved he and his people back on Concord Dawn.

A gasp caught his attention and his hand stopped when he realized Jango was looking up at him. “Jan’ika, thank the Ka’ra. Are you alright?” The teen stared at him as if unable to comprehend his words then turned to look at Ben. He frowned, then his eyes focused further and he sat up snarling.

“You! Why did you stop me? I was so close!” Jaster’s eyebrows rose at the dark swirling anger he could feel coming off his son. Ben’s expression became stern, though his eyes were soft.

“They were not real, Jango. They were figments, memories, things you held on to and couldn’t let go. They were dead and you were at risk of following them into the afterlife.” Jaster made a pained noise and finally Jango seemed to realize he was there.

“Buir…” Jango looked at him guiltily. “I-I’m sorry. I just wanted…” Jaster ran his fingers through his son’s short hair, shushing him quietly. Jango didn’t often need this kind of comfort, and had stopped seeking him out as he got older, but right now they both needed to know the other was safe.

“Who were you trying to follow?” He had a sneaking suspicion but he wanted to be sure.

“My- my birth buire.” That’s what he thought.

“Jan’ika, don’t feel guilty. They were your buire and you loved them. I would never want to take that from you or replace them. You can still love them even after they’re gone.” He thought he’d done a good job teaching his son that it was alright to mourn his parents and that he could miss them. Jaster may be his parent now but Jango had two people in his life before him that had cared for the boy and he would never take that away from him.

“I didn’t even get to see my ori’vod… she wasn’t there.” Ben, who he had forgotten was still sitting right karking there, perked up.

“Did she have the same connection with you that your parents did?” Jango looked up and nodded, still wary of the jetii in their midst. “I want you to close your eyes and reach for that connection inside your mind.” Jango scowled at him until Jaster placed his hand on the back of his neck and gave it a gentle squeeze, reassuring him that his buir was still there. Grumpily Jango closed his eyes and his expression evened out.

Ben waited a moment before speaking again. “What does it feel like?”

“Warm, thin… brittle. Like it’s going to break.” He opened his eyes and glared at Ben. “Happy? So what does that have to do with anything?” Ben smiled gently.

“It means you still have a connection to her… because she’s not dead.” The change in his son was immediate. He went from a low simmering heat to cool glass. Hiding his emotions no doubt.

“You better not be fucking with me.” Jaster let out an exasperated sigh. Jango was an adult now but that didn’t mean he was allowed to be rude.

“Jan’ika.” He admonished. The boy ignored him, eyes trained on Ben.

“I wouldn’t lie about this, not about family.” Jaster could hear the slight pain in his voice and winced. “If you cultivate that connection, shore it up and strengthen it, we can use it to find your ori’vod.” Jango gave the redhead an incredulous look.

“We, aruetii?” Jaster let out a sigh at Ben’s flinch.

“Jan’ika, he’s been speaking Mando’a this entire time and you just called him an outsider?” For a moment Jango’s eyes widened as it sank in that Ben was speaking a language that only the Mando’ade and those closely associated with them would know. “He’s a Stewjoni’ad, which means he’s kin.” His son sat back slightly, crossing his arms and grumbling.

“Sorry.” Ben let out a light laugh, a fond look on his face.

“That’s alright, I understand. There’s nothing to feel sorry for. Although… if you still feel particularly apologetic I could use a favor.” Jango gave him a heated look and Ben just grinned. “Our Alor told me that you can recite the old legends? I’m very interested to hear them. But only if you want to.” Jaster coughed into his fist to hide his grin as Jango’s eyes lit up. In many ways he was still a boy, excited to talk about all of his favourite heroes.

“I’ll see what’s being passed around for food and grab us all some to share. We could all do with some rest.” Ben nodded at him absently as Jango started in on the tale of Mot’tal the Steadfast.

The medics gave him a couple of pointed looks, his armor was pretty dinged up after all, but Jaster was very good at ignoring them. He’d be seen to after he got back with food for his son and Ben. Well, wasn’t that a thought? If Ben was right and Jango really did have the force as well as the Manda then he was going to need to be trained. It was a good thing that Ben would be sticking around from then on.

That thought made him pause and suspicion gnawed at his mind for a moment before he dismissed it. The Manda sang for the man, it was already in his soul though he hadn’t acknowledged it yet. If he had been a danger to the Haat’ade the Manda would have warned him. Gathering up food for three he saw curious and approving looks on many faces and was glad that he’d left his buy’ce on as his face flushed slightly. Was his interest that apparent? Or were they just happy to see him taking care of someone who seemed so lost, someone his people would eagerly snap up to try and fill the void losing a child left in someone.

Heading back into the medical tent he smiled as Jango explained how Naura Bralor the Clever tricked a corrupt government official into giving themselves away in front of all their allies and enemies both. Ben laughed and mentioned that he’d once done something similar and launched into a story that had Jaster’s brows kissing his hairline. Clearing his throat he held out the plates of food and chuckled when both his son and Ben blinked up at him. Clearly they had been distracted. Ben smiled and thanked him, looking at the meal with interest. It wasn’t anything special, just reheated tiingilar.

“You’re not lying about using a swarm of moths to scare an official into giving you the evidence of their corruption, right?” Ben took a bite of the tiingilar and made a sound that had Jaster’s mouth going dry. It was a good thing he hadn’t taken off his helmet yet. He knew jetiise could sense emotions, although with all the beskar and the Manda in his soul he was fairly certain that Ben would only get vague impressions of him. But the shudder of want that went through him for that split second? He was sure Ben would have felt his attraction.

“I swear I’m not making it up. On that planet they have a venomous species of moths and the ones I set free in his office looked very similar. He was rightfully terrified.” Jango blinked in mild alarm as a slightly more feral grin came to Ben’s face. Jango smirked at Ben in response and started to eat his own meal, starting another legend even as he was shoveling food into his face.

“Manners, Jan’ika. You were raised on a ship, not in a cantina.” Ben snorted and glanced over at Jaster just as he was pulling his helmet off. The redhead sucked in a small breath, eyes roaming Jaster’s face, before he turned back to his meal. Jaster frowned slightly, wondering what that was all about, and turned to his own meal. Jango’s story paused for a moment and he looked between Ben and Jaster for a moment before the kid seemed to make up his mind and keep talking.

“Make sure you finish that, Jango, you used a lot of energy in that outburst earlier and you’ll need all the calories you can get for a while.” Jango rolled his eyes but took another bite of the spicy stew.

“That happen often? Using that power making someone tired?” Ben glanced around to make sure that the medics were a fair bit away before speaking in a low tone.

“It’s called force exhaustion, when you use the force too much and it burns you out from the inside. Jango didn’t reach that point, thankfully, but he did expend a lot of energy. His body isn’t used to channeling the force in that manner so it’s more shock right now than anything.” Ben sounded clinical about the whole thing but there was a spark of concern in his eyes.

“Can you teach him? So this doesn’t happen again?” Jango’s eyes snapped up and he looked between the two of them, gaze scrutinizing. Ben stared him in the eyes for a moment before turning away.

“I can teach him all of the basics but I am going to have to come to terms with how I use the force myself without the teachings of the jetiise first.” There was hesitance there and when he finally figured out why Jaster wanted to smack himself in the face. Jet’ika were like adopted children to the Jetii who raised them. Ben had just lost his child and grandchild, of course he’d be reluctant to start teaching another.

“Well, we have time before we get our shit together and land back home. Think it over and get back to me later.” It wasn’t an order but Ben nodded as if it was, expression all too serious. Ka’ra, this man. He couldn’t wait to see how he handled the rest of the Haat’ade. So far he’d been doing a great job. Even Jango, his grumpy fourteen year old son, had taken to him right away. Watching the two of them interact made his chest ache in a good way.

Deep in his soul the Manda sang its song and Jaster didn’t even notice when the song changed, as if someone else was singing along too.

Chapter Text

Once everyone was back on board the ship and they were safely in hyperspace Jaster signed for Myles to go clear out his old room and distracted Ben with a tour of the ship. Surprisingly Jango decided to come along, adding his own commentary as they wandered about.

Although his son’s comments sounded snippy and aggressive it was clear that Ben understood it for what it was. Jango was a very straight forward boy who didn’t mince his words. It made him happy to see that Ben could be just as snippy back, although he tended to stick to dry sarcasm. Jaster couldn’t help wondering whether that was to keep from accidentally insulting his son or if it was just his preference.

The Haat’ade they passed, who had remained on the Me’se’yaim during the mission, eyed Ben as they passed. Each of them was understandably wary of the jetii in their midst. Thankfully one look at Jaster and Jango had them rethinking their initial defensive reactions. Jango laughing at Ben’s jokes, which were made in Mando’a, had a few of his verde nearly tripping over their own feet in surprise. Jaster sympathized. It had been his first mental reaction to the attractive redhead speaking their language too.

“The mess hall is open at all hours and there is a rotation for meal duty. No one works the mid night shift but as long as you clean up after yourself anyone is welcome to use the kitchen.” Ben made a noncommittal sound and looked toward the kitchen curiously.

“Do you happen to have shig? I haven’t had it in quite some time and although I am a fan of spiced caf I really do prefer tea.” Jaster’s smile widened in amusement. He liked that Ben was so quick to state his preferences, feeling no need to hide or try to appease them by pretending to like things he didn’t. It made him more approachable.

“With or without behot?” He asked, curious if he knew about the herb.

“Oh, with. Most certainly. I’ll be needing it later after meditation. Sitting in one place for hours at a time can irritate the joints now and then. Especially on a starship.” Jaster nodded in understanding. Although the ship was properly heated and insulated there were still places where the temperature dipped quite a bit. His left knee tended to ache if he had to be in the cockpit for any extended period of time, due to an old injury he’d suffered during his time as a Journeyman Protector.

“Why don’t we grab some now and you two old warriors can sit down so your bones stop rattling around?” Jango asked, the cheeky little shit.

“That sounds perfect. While we do, you could eat something or maybe take a nap so your attitude improves.” Ben said with a perfectly innocent smile, eyes burning with mischief, as he strode right past a gawping Jango and into the mess.

Jaster didn’t even try to stop himself from barking out a laugh as he passed his gobsmacked son. “He got you there, Jan'ika.”

Sitting with a warm cup of shig he watched Ben carefully over the rim of his mug. Normally Jango would have turned practically feral at such remarks that hinted at his young age or his personality. Yet as he continued to needle the redhead Jaster realized why his son hadn’t turned into a pissy teenager; Ben wasn’t treating him like a child. Even some of the verde still treated his boy as an untested kid, someone who shouldn’t be on the field of battle despite his prowess and accomplishments. Not to mention what other cultures thought of a boy of fourteen going into battle. But Ben… he understood.

Which just raised more questions and a few red flags about what kind of upbringing he’d had among the jetiise.

“I’m just saying, thermal suits are definitely more comfortable than whatever those are.” Jango said with a roll of his eyes, plucking at the top layer Ben was wearing. “We have extras so you should be able to find one that fits. Besides, if you’re becoming one of us and swearing the Resol’nare then you’ll need it for under your armor.” That halted Jaster’s train of thought momentarily. When Ben said he wanted to leave the jetiise, and when Jaster had offered to take him in, he hadn’t thought about the idea of Ben swearing the Resol’nare. But it was true. To become a Haat’ade Ben would need to swear the Resol’nare properly and don armor.

“Well I…” the man sighed. “That’s true. I guess I should get it over with sooner rather than later, hm?” Jango grinned at him then looked pointedly at Jaster. Why his son was eying him with a smug grin he had no idea.

“Come on, we can go to the quartermaster directly from here.” Ben huffed in good nature before finishing the last of his shig in one go. Jango grabbed their mugs and quickly set them in the dirty dishes bin before rushing back. How he had so much energy all of a sudden Jaster was unsure although he suspected it was just his young age that had him bouncing back so quickly.

Heading into the supply room he waved at Urmai to catch her attention. “We’re going to need two sets of thermals in his size and a basic kit for now.” Every once in a while Jaster would come upon those who wanted to join him and the Haat’ade. It wasn’t unusual to find they had escaped from terrible circumstances with nothing more than their clothes, or armor. So he’d taken to having the quartermaster make up basic kits with all the amenities someone would need to start their life with his crew. “You’re not allergic to anything, are you?” The redhead blinked at him and frowned.

“There is a series of antibiotics that I will have to warn the medics about I suppose, but otherwise no.”

“Ah, don’t worry about that. We already know.” Ben’s eyebrow raised in question and Jaster snorted.

“Stewjoni’ad, your people have symbiotic bacteria in your bodies that help to keep infections at bay. Antibiotics can’t differentiate between the harmful bacteria and the helpful ones. In most near-humans it’s fine, but Stewjoni’ade require that bacteria to function normally.” Ben’s expression shifted to understanding and Jaster couldn’t help but want to sigh.

Damn, the Jetiise really didn’t know much about the Stewjoni’ade, did they? Not that it was easy for them considering how close Stewjon’s relationship was with Manda’yaim.

Urmai brought a few thermals for Ben and the man went into the other room to quickly try them on. He’d stated his measurements easily enough but it was always best to check. The Mando’ade used a different measuring system than the Jetiise.

Jaster’s mind wandered to what kinds of colors he should suggest for the man’s under layer when Ben stepped out of the back room, looking a little disgruntled. All his thoughts ceased for a moment as he took in the lean muscled, yet slender, frame of the redhead. He was certainly tall, there was no denying that, but instead of the thick muscles of a warrior he had the athletic frame of a fencer paired with the long limbs and grace of a dancer. The color the quartermaster had found for him was a medium green that made his blue eyes and red hair pop all the more.

“Not bad.” Urmai said appreciatively somewhere off to his left. “I have the same size in a pale blue and dark brown. Any preference for color?” The man gave the quartermaster a polite smile as he tugged on the high collar of the thermals.

“The brown, if you please. I don’t feel like blue particularly suits me.” Jaster had the impression he didn’t mean fashion and realized that Ben actually did understand that their colors were important. Which meant he had accepted the green of duty and chosen the brown of valor for himself. Jaster couldn’t help wondering what colors he would paint on his armor and had to remind himself to take things slow. The man would need time to adjust.

“I’ll grab you a night set and some casual clothes for training and relaxing. I’ll try to stick to those colors.” Ben smiled at Urmai as the woman turned away to go find what was needed.

“See? They’re comfortable and climate controlled.” Jango said with a smirk. Ben rolled is eyes expressively, giving the boy a playful grin in return but not commenting on his statement.

“Here you are.” Urmai stepped up to the redhead and handed him a stack of folded clothes. Ben took them with thanks and went back into the change room.

“Does he already have a bunk? I can send the linens ahead with Savren.” Jango perked up, curious, not knowing that Jaster had already chosen a room for Ben.

“He’ll be in Myles’ old room. Myles is in Montross’ old room now." He paused, scowling. "I want you to take Montross’ old things and use what is immediately useful. The rest can be put into storage for now.” Urmai’s mouth became a thin line at the hard look on Jaster’s face. Although she didn’t know the full story she trusted him to give those sorts of orders and would carry them out without fail. Jaster knew that news of Montross’ betrayal would be circulating already so he would have to call a meeting and give all the facts soon.

Thankfully he had some good news to offset his second in command’s betrayal. Having another force user, and one that was actually trained, would be very useful. Especially if Ben could teach those in his crew that had the ability but not the first clue how to wield it. With Ben out of jetii garb and backed by the Mand'alor he would be more readily accepted by the rest of the Haat'ade.

Ben stepped back out into the supply room and Jaster eyed his outfit critically. Dark brown trousers beneath a leaf-green tunic embroidered with white at the collar. Anyone seeing that would know the man had reached his Cin Vhetin and would refrain from asking too many questions about his past. Jaster gave Urmai an approving nod and she smirked triumphantly at him. “I know my business, Alor.” He chuckled, unable to deny it.

“Your room should be almost ready.” Catching him looking at the folded jetii clothes Jaster hesitated for a moment. “If you like, Urmai can re-purpose those into more tunics and trousers for you.” There was a feeling of surprise from both the quartermaster and his son for a moment. It prompted him to add, “it would be a waste to throw out all that fabric when it could be put to a better use.” Which was very much in line with his more practical mind.

“I would appreciate that greatly.” Ben turned to Urmai and held out the clothes. She took the jetii tunics and robe but handed him back his leggings and boots.

“Keep those. They can be slept or lounged in, and there’s not enough fabric for me to make anything else with them anyway. The boots are good enough for now.” Nodding he slipped the boots back on and looked to Jaster. Jango held up the kit bag but pulled it away when Ben reached for it, leaving the man looking slightly confused.

“I’ll carry it.” Ben looked ready to argue and Jango’s eyes narrowed stubbornly. Jaster looked at the ceiling for a moment in exasperation before motioning the two of them to follow him back out into the ship.

They made it to Ben’s new room just as Savren was leaving. He nodded respectfully at Jaster, gave Jango a pat on the shoulder, and waved at Ben in greeting as he passed. Jaster didn’t hold it against him, Urmai ran a tight ship.

“This room is yours. You won’t have to share with anyone, since this was Myles’ old haunt.” The room was utilitarian by design with a simple bed, armor locker, closet, desk, and chair. Any posters, trophies, or other knick-knacks had been removed by Myles; leaving the room looking quite bare. “My room is down one and across the hall. If you need anything don’t hesitate to knock.” Jango set down the kit bag on the desk and riffled through it quickly. He sidled up to Jaster and handed him the basic wrist comm. Until Ben had proper armor with all the technology that came with it he would no way to contact anyone otherwise. There was also a datapad in the kit with a basic holonet connection.

Jaster quickly input his frequency into the wrist comm as the first contact and after glancing at Jango put his son’s contact as the second before handing it over to Ben.

After a moment of silence where no one said anything Jango huffed. “I’m going to the training room. See you later, Ben, Buir.” With that his son was gone, practically running down the hallway away from them. Jaster shook his head at his impatient kid before turning back to Ben.

The man was looking down at the clothes in his arms, around at the room, and then back at him. A melancholic look came over him that made Jaster want to reach out and comfort him. It could be hard to leave a life you knew and loved behind, he should know. His own life had been upended a couple times in his life.

“Thank you for all of this, I really appreciate it.” The gratitude in Ben’s voice was very apparent and Jaster couldn’t resist the urge to step closer and place a hand on the back of the man’s neck, squeezing gently in reassurance. Ben’s blue eyes widened slightly but he didn’t step away, his gaze steady as he stared into Jaster’s dark brown eyes.

“There’s no debt, Ben. We take care of our own.” Ben nodded, smiling warmly and relaxing into Jaster’s hand. The look in the redhead’s eyes was so hopeful and trusting that Jaster felt his breath hitch.

The Manda trilled with joy before Ben slipped out of his hold with a small, shy, chuckle. “I should put my things away and meditate. I have a lot to think about.” Jaster let his arm fall to his side, trying to ignore the lingering warmth.

“I’ll let you get on with it then. I’ll contact you around late meal and we can discuss your oaths.” Ben looked back at him and nodded once solemnly.

By this time tomorrow Obi-wan Kenobi the Jetii would be gone, and Ben Kenobi of the Haat Mando’ade would take his place.

Jaster couldn’t wait.

Chapter Text

“Alright, settle down!” Calling everyone to attention he looked over the gathered verde and bit back a sigh. Most of them had heard of Ben, had seen him wandering with Jaster and his son. By now, thanks to the gossip network, they had also learned he was a jetii. It was time to dispel some of the worst rumours and assure his people that Ben was someone that would be a benefit to the Haat’ade. Next to him stood Myles, a reminder that there was more news than just the inevitable adoption of a wayward jetii.

“You’ve all heard the rumours floating around. I’m here to make sure you lot have the right information before you go off half cocked.” There were a few snickers from the crowd and Jaster gave them an amused grin in return. “Ben Kenobi is a Stewjoni’ad. On Korda VI he killed Tor Vizla, saving my life in the process. You’ll know him when you see him, as the one to kill Tor he now carries the Dha’kad’au.” A few muttered curses and surprised gasps came from the crowd. Myles snorted next to him. “He is also a jetii.”

“You let a jetii on our ship?” Vixna bit out incredulously from the front row.

“Yes. I let a jetii on my ship.” He emphasized. “The man is mandokarla, honorable, and comes to us looking for a new life. As a man who saved my life, a Stewjoni’ad no less, I am willing to give him that chance.” He took a deep breath to steady himself before he spoke again, uncertain how his people would take his next words. “Manda already accepts him as one of us.”

There was a clatter of noise as multiple people started talking at once, some nearly yelling in order to be heard.

“Be silent!” He commanded with all the authority he could muster. The room quieted down with agitated murmurs. “Tomorrow Kenobi will be renouncing any ties to the jetiise and the Republic. He comes to us as a lost child, seeking Manda’s embrace.” It wasn’t often that he fell into the flowery speech of Manda’s chosen but he knew what the effect would be on the verde. Their silent reverence said more than any words ever could as he reached out to every one of them, letting them feel the Manda that flowed through him. “Cin Vhetin is a sacred rite. If he is lying, trying to trick us, we’ll find out tomorrow.” He paused to look over the crowd, feeling how each of them slowly relaxed, acknowledging the warm truth of Manda in their souls. “Until I say otherwise you are all forbidden from causing him any harm. He is under my protection. Is that understood?”

“Yes, Alor!” They replied as one voice.

“Good. One last thing, you have all heard by now that Montross is no longer with us.” His eyes turned hard as beskar. “Montross betrayed us to our enemies, left me and my heir for dead. He was declared dar’manda and executed for his crimes. I have promoted Myles in his place. We will be reevaluating you all and reassigning you to new squads.” There was no telling what kind of shit Montross had pulled in preparation for betraying them. Now every decision he had made was under scrutiny. “If you want to stay with your current squad or in your current position let one of us know and we’ll consider it.” He looked around the room. “Any questions?”

“Alor?” Of course Mave would immediately jump at the chance, she was a curious sort. He nodded to her in acknowledgment. This was sure to be interesting.

“Is it true the jetii lost his ad and bu’ad?” Jaster blinked in surprise. He hadn’t expected her to ask something that personal but looking at Mave he could tell she was actually concerned about the rumor. As any good mando’ad would be hearing about the loss of children.

“I don’t know their names but yes. His ad was only nineteen. The jetii choose their students young so I suspect his bu’ad was somewhere between ten and fourteen.” There was a sense of concern and growing realization amongst his people.

“How did they die?” Jaster shook his head sadly. He hadn’t asked. The raw pain on Ben’s face had been enough for him. If the man chose to talk about it later he would accept that. Until then Ben’s pain was his own and no one had a right to force that information from him.

“I overheard him speaking Mando’a, is he fluent?” Voulen asked to break the heavy silence.

“He speaks proper Mando’a for an outsider, but not all of the parts one would learn growing up in a clan. Whoever taught him also stayed away from teaching him anything about the Manda. Otherwise he’s only asked about a few unfamiliar words in Basic.” There were mutters of interest amongst his people and Jaster snorted in amusement.

“Anything else?” When no one immediately spoke up Jaster took it as a sign that he could wrap up the meeting and dismissed everyone back to their duties.

For the next three hours he and Myles went over old reports and personal profiles of every verd. It was all one massive headache. At least six different clans who had feuds with one another had been put together on the same squad and it was obvious it was causing problems. According to some new messages they’d received during their work some of the reports had been doctored or deleted entirely to hide the friction between different groups. Myles gave him a sympathetic look before he remembered that Jaster had made him second in command and began glaring at him over the datapad in his hands.

When late meal rolled around he sent Myles off and walked to the mess on his own. He spied Jango sitting with some of the younger verde, arguing about something heatedly, and smiled. “Did our guest stop by yet?” When the verd on kitchen duty replied in the negative Jaster grabbed two plates of food and set off for Ben’s quarters.

Knocking on the door first he walked inside when it opened and stopped just inside the doorway, eyebrows raised in surprise. The man was karking floating. There was at least half a foot between him and the bed. Opening impossibly blue eyes that he swore were glowing the man looked at him in confusion for a moment before he suddenly fell to the bed with a small thump.

“Ah, is it that time already?” He asked in that cultured voice of his. Jaster snorted and came inside, holding out the plate of food and a set of cutlery. Ben smiled and took the food gratefully with a small ‘thank you.’

Jaster pulled out the chair from the desk and sat down, watching Ben as he took the first few bites of the spiced meat and vegetables over steamed grains. The look of delight on his face made Jaster smile as he started to eat his own meal.

“It almost tastes as if they used ale in this.” Jaster grinned.

“That’s because they did. They stewed the meat in ale for a few hours before adding the spices, vegetables, and sauce.” Ben grinned back and took another bite.

“It’s delicious. What is it called?”

“Jan’gal jaon neral.” Ben took a moment to translate it then gave him a deadpan look. Jaster chuckled. “It doesn’t really have a name. It’s the kind of dish everyone and their grandmother knows, and every clan makes it differently. The ingredients are pretty negotiable, the important part is the spice mix.” The man thought about that for a moment and nodded in understanding.

“So which clan made this version?” Jaster thought about it for a moment.

“Clan Warden. They always use too much catabar, gives it a sweet aftertaste.” Ben laughed at his disgruntled look.

“I’ll have to try some of Clan Mereel’s then if I want it done properly.” Jaster swallowed hard at the thought. He wasn’t sure how it was for the jetiise, he’d always heard they weren’t allowed relationships or family, but one of the things mando’ade did to entice a potential partner was to share their home cooking. Not only did it suggest that the mando’ad in question could provide for the potential partner but it was a way to show trust. Clan recipes were a jealously guarded secret to non-clan members. But Ben couldn’t know any of that, or he wouldn’t have suggested it.

“Perhaps, once we get to Manda’yaim.” The man blinked and frowned.

“Of course, do forgive me, Mand’alor. I suppose you would be far too busy to indulge in that sort of thing.” Now he was certain Ben didn’t know about that little tidbit about sharing ones cooking with another person being a way to court someone. Otherwise he wouldn’t be acting as if it were something so frivolous.

“Not too busy for that, we just don’t have the required spices on board.” He said with an easy smile, trying to make it less of an issue.

“Ah.” Silence descended and Jaster couldn’t help but to fidget. He may be a skilled orator and technically a politician but he was also a man of action.

“So. Tomorrow we’ll be performing your Cin Vhetin ceremony.” Another look of confusion. Ka’ra, who had taught him Mando’a without even discussing the Cin Vhetin? “Cin Vhetin is what we call the oath swearing ceremony, where you denounce your past and are reborn as a Mando’ad. It’s where you’ll swear to the Resol’nare.” He paused. “You do know the Resol’nare, don’t you?”

“Educating the next generation, wearing armor, learning self defense, loyalty to one’s clan, speaking Mando’a, and answering the Mand’alor’s call.” Thank every star in Manda’yaim’s sky!

“Good. Swearing the Resol’nare is the first step. You’ll need to be adopted into a Clan as well.” A thought niggled the back of his mind and he cleared his throat, sitting a little straighter. “I’d like to extend the offer to join my own clan, if that’s acceptable to you. As a Kenobi you have the right to change your name to that of your clan. Being nameless is… not looked upon favorably to the Mando’ade.”

“So I would be Ben Mereel of Clan Mereel?” Jaster nodded, shoving his emotions behind a false calm.

“You would also be of House Mereel. As Mand’alor my clan also becomes the name of my political house. As a Haat’ade you would automatically be considered House Mereel.” The man let out a low, considering, hum as he thought it over.

“I would be honored to accept, Mand’alor.” Jaster couldn’t hold back the wide smile that crossed his face.

“I think, considering we’re about to become clan, that you should really call me Jaster.” Ben’s smile was wicked and his eyes shone with mirth.

“Well then, Jaster, I suppose you should call me Ben then.” Kriff, that look should not be half as attractive as it was.

“I would have done so rega-” His comm went off and he sighed, setting his plate of food down on the desk behind him. “What is it?”

“Buir, you’re with Ben, right?” Jango’s voice came over the comm.

“I am. What’s up Jan’ika?”

“Ask him if he wants a flamethrower or a whipcord.” He looked up at Ben to see the man frowning at the comm.

“If I had to choose I suppose a whipcord would be more useful for me.” There was some hesitance there and Jaster wanted to sigh.

“What brought this on, Jan’ika?” His son let out an annoyed huff.

“For tomorrow. He’ll need at least one piece of armor, buir. You didn’t forget, did you old man?” There was a mix of light teasing and faint rebuke in his words.

“I didn’t forget. I was going to grab him some plain bracers. Not ones with weapons pre-installed.”

“I had some time to kill, so…” Jaster chuckled.

“It’s fine, ad’ika. If you’re taking care of it that frees me up for other matters. Just don’t get carried away.” Jango snorted.

“No promises.” Then the little bugger signed off.

“He’s very headstrong.” Ben said, approval in his voice. Jaster laughed.

“No idea where he gets it from. Certainly not me.” Ben joined him in laughing. The light sound of his amusement was very pleasant to listen to.

“Of course. It’s an absolute mystery.”

Once they’d finished eating and talking about what to expect in the ceremony the next day Jaster suggested Ben visit the medics to get a full check up. They would need to get his medical history on file before he could even contemplate going on a mission anyway. Mando’ad medics were not to be taken lightly. Baar’ur Verill was particularly vicious if you got on his bad side.

Ben made a face but didn’t argue. Jaster gathered their dishes and offered to show him the way to medical. With a resigned sigh the man nodded and got up from the bed, looking like an agitated tooka. Jaster chuckled under his breath. Ben was a chosen of Manda all right. Stubborn.

“Come on, the sooner we get there the sooner you can get it over with.” Ben huffed, rolling his eyes slightly, but there was an amused tilt to his lips that hinted towards it being in good humor.

Jaster had to force himself to look away from those lips and focus on the task at hand.

Ka’ra. He was screwed.

Chapter Text

After the absolute disaster that was the first meeting between Ben and Baar’ur Veriil Jaster was trying, and failing, to calm down his medic as the male ranted at Ben. The man in question was standing behind Jaster, looking sheepish and uncomfortable, as Br. Verill went off about telling medical professionals when you’re injured and Ben’s absolute lack of common sense. It was truly awe inspiring the amount of bitching coming from the Chagrian. Not that Br. Verill bitching someone out was anything new. Jaster knew that it was the male’s way of caring for the stubborn warriors who didn’t know when to sit down and shut up but it was a little jarring seeing him become so caustic so quickly.

“Slow down, vod, we only recently found him. He’s not used to the way we do things.” He tried, holding his hands up as if in surrender.

“Alor, you don’t understand! The scans show that he has at least four cracked ribs, a hairline fracture in his left wrist, and he’s lucky that ankle is only sprained. From what I’ve heard he’s been walking around as if nothing’s wrong!” Jaster blinked in surprise and turned to look back at Ben. The man hunched his shoulders slightly, as if that would make him less of a target. Jaster let out a heavy sigh.

He’d figured that the Jetiise at least would have taught their people the importance of proper medical care. “Ben, vod, why didn’t you say anything?” The slight disappointment in Jaster’s voice made the man’s face flush in embarrassment.

“Well I… you’d just come from a terrible ordeal and there were a lot of verde who were injured far worse than myself. I have the Force to bolster me, I’ll be fine.” Br. Verill threw up his hands in exasperation.

“Idiot! Sit your ass down on that table right now!” Growled the medic, pointing to the examination table. “I’m going to get some bacta patches and a wrap for those ribs.” He turned and stalked over to the other side of the room, cursing under his breath and yanking open drawers before aggressively rifling through them. The moment he seemed distracted Ben leaned closer to Jaster’s ear.

“Is there any way to escape? Or will he just hunt me down and drag me back?” Jaster snorted in amusement.

“You’re stuck, vod. No one will help you hide from an irate Br. They know better.” Ben let out a frustrated huff before stiffening, Verill was glaring over his shoulder at them. With as much dignity he could muster Ben sat on the examination table, trying to act as if it had been his intention all along. Jaster chuckled and moved to stand next to the door, giving Ben some space. It was obvious the man didn’t particularly like the medical bay.

He was going to fit right in with the other verde. None of them liked medical either.

“Ouch!” He raised a brow as Ben began to pout, rubbing at the side of his neck where the Chagrian had injected him with something.

“That’s a painkiller and anti-inflammatory.” Without missing a beat he knocked Ben’s hand away and injected him again. The redhead hissed and scowled at the medic, who looked down at him with an unimpressed expression. “And that was all the boosters you’ll need. We’ve come into contact with a few nasty viruses lately. Ones that even your biology won’t be able to handle without help.”

“That’s all well and good, but you could have warned me.” Br. Verill shook his head and moved on.

When he was finished he had all he needed to run the proper tests and begin a medical file that would be shared amongst the medics of the Haat’ade. Ben looked like an affronted cat as he was told to keep off his ankle as much as possible and not to engage in any physical activities for at least four days. Which meant no sparring, no roughhousing, and absolutely no weapons practice. The medic had glared pointedly at Ben’s belt where his lightsabers were kept.

“Well, at least it’s over and done with.” Jaster said cheerfully. Ben gave him a half disgusted, half betrayed, look and Jaster couldn’t help laughing. “I think that’s it for the night. You should listen to the baar’ur’s advice and head to bed early. We’ll be waking you early so you can get ready for the ceremony.” Ben let out a sigh and nodded, following Jaster back to his room.

“Ben.” He said when they made it back to his new quarters. “I know that Br. Verill seems very acidic, but he has the best intentions.” The man smiled at him, eyes softening.

“I know, I could sense he only wanted to help. Besides, he reminds me of someone I used to know…” He trailed off for a moment and his expression became pained. Jaster reached out and put a hand on his shoulder to ground him. He’d seen that same far off look on verde who had lost someone close to them and weren’t quite present mentally. The redhead swallowed hard and gave him a grateful look.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Ben. Have a good night.” Ben smiled and it was a soft thing that had Jaster’s breath hitching.

“Bright and early, I assume?” He chuckled. “Have a good night, Jaster.” With that Ben took a step back and the door closed between them.

It took him a moment to pull himself away from the door, his chest feeling tight and feeling a little flushed. Shaking himself like a striil he forced himself back to his own quarters.

He had work to do if he wanted everything to go smoothly the next day.

Bright and early he gathered as many verde as he could in the main briefing room. Considering who it was that was about to swear to the Resol’nare he wasn’t surprised when the majority of off duty Mando’ade showed up to fight over front row seats. Jaster stood at the head of the room with Myles, sharing an amused if disgruntled look. Jango had won the honor of fetching Ben and had already vanished into the hall.

“Alright! Settle down!” He called out when Jango pinged his comm to let him know they were just outside. Jaster cleared his throat and looked around the room, making sure his people were paying attention. “Today we are here to welcome a new member of House Mereel. They come to us, renouncing all they were before, to be reborn as one of Manda’s children.” He tapped his control pad and the door opened. Jango and Ben stepped inside. His son stood proudly, beskar’gam cleaned and helmet on. While Ben looked a little more subdued, contemplative. “Obi-wan Kenobi.” The man froze for a moment before relaxing, remembering that using his real name was all part of the ceremony. “Come forward.”

Jango escorted Ben until he was standing about five feet or so in front of Jaster. The man went down on one knee, right fist over his left breast and head bowed. “Mand’alor.” He said respectfully, voice loud and clear for all to hear. Jaster nodded in approval.

“Obi-wan Kenobi. Speak now, and speak truly- do you renounce your past identity? Are you ready to leave behind who you were in order to embrace Manda’s gift?” Ben raised his head, blue eyes bright with determination.

“I do.” The air sang with the truth of his words.

“Do you renounce your faith and your place among the Jetiise?” Everyone in the room perked up, some leaning closer to make sure they didn’t miss anything. Ben took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

“I do. I renounce my faith in the Order and entrust myself to the Manda.” Everyone seemed to hold their breath but when nothing bad happened the tense atmosphere broke. In its place was excitement and a slowly building acceptance.

“Do you swear to uphold the Six Tenets of the Mando’ade?” Ben nodded.

“I swear to educate myself and the next generation. To wear my armor with pride and honor. To be a loyal and dutiful member of my clan. To learn and speak Mando’a. And to answer the call of my Mand’alor. So I swear.” Around them he could feel the Manda swell and the excitement in the room rose another notch. Every one of them could feel the warm approval of Manda and knew that Ben had been deemed worthy. Jaster grinned behind his visor.

“Who will sponsor this warrior?” Jango took off his helmet to speak but was interrupted as Myles stepped forward.

“I do. I claim this warrior for Clan Vhehn.” Jaster’s mouth fell open in surprise as Jango scowled at the second in command. Myles' lips quirked up into a triumphant smile, his eyes blazing with challenge. If Jaster tried to claim Ben now they would have to fight for it. In this uncertain time he couldn’t afford to have the verde seeing their leaders fighting amongst themselves. He grit his teeth and conceded defeat.

Well played. He would have to get his revenge later.

“Do you accept this sponsorship?” Ben looked between him and Myles, looking mildly perturbed. This was not going as he had expected. But thankfully he just went with it.

“I accept, with gratitude.”

“Then be reborn. From this day forward you will be known as Ben Vhehn, of Clan Vhehn, House Mereel.” He motioned toward the room. “Welcome, vod.” Jaster watched as Myles took the bracers from Jango and helped Ben put them on. The redhead looked at them for a moment, adjusting them easily, before nodding to Jango in thanks.

“Thank you, alor, Jango, I will wear them with honor.”

The room erupted into cheers as Myles clapped Ben on the back and welcomed him into the family, while Jango shyly stepped closer to the redhead and accepted a one armed hug.

Obi-wan the Jetii was no more. Ben Vhehn the Mando’ad had risen in his place.

Chapter Text

Sitting in the middle of a large celebration Obi- Ben looked around at the joy filled mando'ade and had to shove down another wave of disquiet. He hid it well as nervousness and shyness, at being new and unused to the rambunctiousness of mando'ade soldiers, but that wasn’t the truth of it at all. Honestly it was hard to separate what he knew should have happened and what had actually happened. What O- Ben had stopped from happening.

In his own timeline, at this point, the True Mandalorians would have been simmering in rage and wallowing in grief at the loss of their leader. Looking at one another with uncertainty as a young Jango Fett was tailed by Myles, trying to fill the enormous hole left by his recently deceased father. The fact that he might have been force sensitive had never crossed anyone on the council’s mind. Yet the mando'ade knew, even celebrated, their force sensitive brethren.

Just from where he was sitting he could see one of the warriors using the force to keep a stack of dishes in place, balanced on their head, as another continued to build onto the stack. A group nearby were betting on how many items could be stacked before they lost control and how long they could hold everything before they lost focus. Jaster’s explanation, that the Manda was an actual outside power much like the force, made a little more sense now that he’d felt it first hand.

The power that had swept through him when he swore the Resol’nare was both foreign yet familiar, like an old friend. He had been startled when he realized he had, indeed, felt such a thing before. Back on Mandalore… after he had realized he was beginning to fall in love with the colorful culture of the mando'ade. It was like some large feline had settled possessively in his breast, purring contentedly and welcoming him home.

It made his memories of what Satine had eventually become, what she had done to secure her power, all the more distressing. Although he still couldn’t come to regret his love for the young woman who had only wanted the best for her people he grieved what she had done to her own culture. Destroying a culture was one of the most insidious ways to kill a people. Especially when you made celebrating that culture a punishable offense.

“Ben, if you ever want to change clans just say the word.” He turned his attention back outward and looked at the warrior who’d spoken to him. A human male with golden skin and deep brown eyes smiled at him playfully, words slurring a little. Someone had been imbibing the tihaar a little too much. “Speak the vows with me and it’ll be all taken care of.” He chuckled, feeling flattered by the attention. So far this was the third proposition he’d received, although it was the first one asking him to outright marry them. The other two had been an adoption and an offer to share a bunk for the foreseeable future.

“Nope, nuh-uh, shoo! Go on, get!” Myles said, gray eyes sparkling with mirth. “You leave my vod’ika alone!” Ben scoffed.

“I beg your pardon, I am fairly certain I am older than you.” The man grinned at him.

“Doesn’t matter. You’re the foundling, that makes you younger than me. It also makes you my responsibility.” He couldn’t help the smile those words pulled from him as others nearby grumbled about how unfair it was that Myles had ‘poached’ him.

It was, admittedly, a little odd that so many of these people were suddenly so invested in getting to know him. When he’d shown up in their camp they were on the verge of attacking him on sight. Only the Mand’alor at his side kept them from doing anything rash. Thankfully, as he’d spoken with Myles, he had felt their emotions shifting from active aggression to defensive aggression and, after helping Jango, to a wary acceptance and budding interest.

They knew he had been a jedi, they knew he had the force, and yet none of them were afraid of it. Of him. Not everyone was as perfectly open and accepting of him, people were all different after all, but none of them were rejecting him outright. It was quite surprising but at the same time very… comforting.

“Just because he’s Clan Vhehn now doesn’t mean you can keep him to yourself.” Growled Jango as dropped down on the bench next to Ben, handing him another glass of ne’tra gal. He chuckled and took the new glass of ale with gratitude. “You’re still going to teach me, right? So we can find Arla.” Jango muttered just loud enough that Ben could overhear him. He paused, the drink set against his lips.

Should he teach Jango how to use the force? The boy was already so angry and considering what he had done… no. He couldn’t think like that. What Jango had done in the future was a moot point. This Jango hadn’t lost his father to a traitor and been forced to become a leader at fourteen out of necessity. He hadn’t lost everyone he knew and loved before being forced into slavery for years. He was just a boy of fourteen who had already lost one family.

Ben promised himself, and the force, that he would do all he could to prevent the war from his own timeline. The force was nudging him to join the mando'ade, to help them and in doing so help stop the return of  the Sith… Another thing he needed to speak with Jaster about in private.

“Yes, Jango, I will teach you.” He promised. On his other side Myles choked on his drink before he started to laugh. Ben looked over at him but his new… elder brother he supposed, just grinned at him.

“Teaching the next generation already?” Something about the way he said it made Jango feel equally amused in the force, although Ben had no idea why. “Jan’ika you’re a sneaky little shit.” The teen barked a laugh and held up his glass in a mock salute.

“So are you, Commander Vhehn. Buir’s still pissed about that stunt, by the way, but once he figures it out he’ll probably go easy on you.” Myles made a face but nodded. None of which told Ben anything.

“I do believe I am missing something here.” He said lightly, looking between the two of them with narrowed eyes to show how much he did not appreciate that fact.

“You’ll understand eventually. Just another thing whoever taught you Mando’a seems to have forgotten about.” Myles said offhandedly, waving away his confusion. “By the way, Jan’ika, do you know where Jaster went? He just vanished all of a sudden.” Jango shrugged.

“He said he remembered something he’d forgotten about earlier and disappeared into his quarters. I think he’s in the kitchen now though,” the boy tilted his head, as if he were searching for something. Ben recognized what he was doing and smiled into is cup. “Yeah, he’s in the kitchen. Not sure why.” He frowned in concern but didn’t get up from his seat. Myles just took this information in stride and returned to his alcohol.

“Ben! Help us settle a debate, would you?” A group of three warriors strode over, shoving others out of their way and stealing the bench across from he, Jango, and Myles. “My vod’ika here heard that the Jetiise are pacifists but my riduur here disagrees with him, thinks its a stupid rumor. So what’s the truth?” Ben blinked and set his drink down on the table, frowning slightly.

“As people who have a strong connection to the Force the Jetiise can feel the lives of everyone around them at all times, some of them go so far as to be able to feel every single insect.” There was a hush around him as people turned to listen. “Feeling someone’s life get cut short can be mentally and even physically painful, depending on the Jetii and if they had any connection with the other person. As a whole they prefer to act as diplomats, researchers, and teachers. The vast majority of them are made of entire corps dedicated to mapping safe routes through the galaxy, growing food, and giving medical aid. The ones you might meet during a more violent mission are most probably Jedi Knights.” He spoke the words in basic, since there really wasn’t an equivalent in Mando’a. “They make up the warriors of the Jetiise. I can assure you that they are most certainly not made up of pacifists.” He chuckled.

“You were a ‘Knight’ weren’t you?” Someone piped up.

“I was a Master, actually.” There was a feeling of confusion from more than one person and Ben chuckled. “A Master is a Knight that has raised a student to Knighthood. You’ll know the students by their braids or a special set of beads and decorations hanging from their head if they are without hair. Once a student has passed their trials there is a ceremony where we cut the braid to show the student’s growth. Often that braid is gifted to the teacher, although not always.”

“Did you gift your teacher your braid?” Ben tried to hide a grimace but he could feel their curiosity and wariness. They wanted him to be open with them, so they could learn to trust him. He sighed and looked at the speaker.

“In a manner of speaking. I passed my Knighthood Trial by killing the one who killed my Master in front of me.” More than one of the gathered warriors winced and the one who asked the question gave him an apologetic look. “After the Council cut my braid I place it on my master’s funeral pyre.” A melancholy settled over everyone and he had no doubt that some of them were remembering their own loved ones who had passed away.

“Has anyone explained Remembrances to you?” Myles asked him. Ben nodded.

“Yes I… I know about Remembrances.” A hand landed on his shoulder and he looked down into a pair of amber eyes filled with understanding. He swallowed, mind conjuring up another set of eyes that were far too similar.

“Well this is a depressing atmosphere.” Thankful for the distraction he turned and grinned over at the Mand’alor. The man willed people out of his way, a trio of covered plates on a tray between his hands. Taking the place across from Ben that had been vacated Jaster set the tray down. He set a dish in front of Jango then Ben then himself, shoving the tray off to the side. Ben caught a whiff of spices that tickled the back of his nose and looked down at the dishes. Jaster set down some cutlery as Jango perked up.

“Buir? Is this-?” Jaster nodded.

“Ben mentioned he liked tiingilar, so I thought I’d make some as a welcoming gift.” He shrugged, trying to look nonchalant, but it seemed a little stiff. Next to him Myles covered his mouth with his hand, his eyes crinkling with mirth. Jango’s jaw dropped and he looked between the plates, Ben, and his father.

“You. You made tiingilar. As in Mereel Clan tiingilar?” Ben wasn’t sure why Jango would find that so strange or surprising. As Jaster’s son wouldn’t he be eating Mereel Clan recipes? Yet those around him also seemed a little startled by this news.

“I did. I remembered I’d kept some of my spices in reserve but since we’re heading back home I can just buy more when we get there.” Jango leaned forward so he could stare past Ben to Myles. They shared a knowing grin and Ben wanted to sigh.

“None for me, Mand’alor? I’m hurt.” Myles teased as Ben lifted the lid off his dish and took in the rich scent of spices. Jaster pointed his fork at the man, giving him a mock glare.

“No. This is a treat for Ben. Besides, Clan Vhehn has terrible taste in tiingilar, you’d just complain.” Someone nearby started to laugh as if that was the funniest thing in the world and eventually everyone was laughing along.

“Jas’buir, please don’t get into a feud with Myles over food.” Jango begged, sounding both pained and embarrassed in that way only a fourteen year old could. “I’m sure Ben will like yours better anyway.” He snorted and decided to play along.

“Oh, we’ll have to see about that, won’t we? I might be able to eat bland rations like the next warrior but I have very refined tastes, I’ll have you know.” Jango’s mouth fell open and Jaster’s expression became determined, a glint of steel entering his eyes as he straightened in his seat.

“Those are fighting words, Ben.” The Mand’alor growled at him without anger. Ben chuckled.

“One of the Tenets is loyalty to ones Clan, Mand’alor. I can’t very well have you insulting my new ori’vod and not lift a finger to defend him, now can I?” Jango snickered and Myles grinned triumphantly.

“I have such a wonderful vod’ika. Such a gift. He’ll make Clan Vhehn very proud some day.” Ben finally broke down laughing with the others at the overly dramatic way Myles was acting, pretending to wipe a tear from his eye.

Picking up his fork he gathered a single morsel from the dish and blew on it to cool it before delicately placing it in his mouth. He knew the others were watching for his reaction so he played it up a little. Until the spices actually hit and he let out a low sound of appreciation. There was a nice tingle on his tongue and a sharp bite that eventually gave way to a smooth smokiness. Across from him Jaster was eying him with a downright wicked smirk, giving off a faint sense of triumph in the force. He rolled his eyes and swallowed the bite.

“Alright, I’ll admit that this is the best tiingilar I’ve ever tasted. Don’t let it go to your head though, I’ve only ever had street food from vendors in Keldabe and fancy dishes from upscale restaurants in Sundari.” Suddenly he was bombarded with questions about where he’d been and what he’d been doing on Manda’yaim. He cursed himself for mentioning it.

“When were you ever on Manda’yaim? Is that where you learned Mando’a? You do have an odd mix of Mando’a and Laandur Mando’a…” He winced at the last question. He knew that some of his words were a little off, having learned them from Satine with her New Mandalorian leanings. Well, before she refused to speak Mando’a at all.

“When I was a jet’ika my master and I were sent to Manda’yaim to guard a wealthy heiress who had returned from schooling on Coruscant after the death of her father. Her family was being targeted because of their New Mandalorian leanings. The mission parameters were private so I cannot speak of it in detail. But my master and I spent a year on Manda’yaim, primarily in Sundari, guarding her. It’s where I first learned Mando’a.” He grinned playfully, hoping to divert their attention from the vagueness of the information. “Of course I found out there was another city that supposedly housed true mando’ade, the kind that the jetiise have always been wary of. I was sixteen at the time and quite adventurous. It was in Keldabe that I was introduced to the culture, not the watered down version that the New Mandalorians claimed it should be.” He heard a few grunts and saw nods of agreement and approval.

“Well, now that you’re one of us we can fill you in on all the things an Outsider wouldn’t have been allowed to learn about. Like certain… cultural practices.” Myles said with a mischievous grin aimed at Jaster. The Mand’alor’s ears pinked slightly and he could feel a twinge of embarrassment from the man. It was a surprise, really, as Jaster had some of the most impressive mental shields he’d ever seen, and that wasn’t even taking into account the power that coursed through him, protecting him from passive readings in the force. If Ben wanted to read him he would have to focus quite hard on the task, and Jaster would most certainly be able to feel the intrusion.

Not that O- Ben would ever do such a thing. That was an invasion of privacy.

“Finish your food, Ben. The baar’ur said you’re underfed and need to gain some weight. No one argues with the baar’ur, not even me.” There were chuckles and a few shudders of dread from the gathered warriors and Ben laughed. Picking up his fork he started in on the meal with the appropriate amount of gusto.

Later that night, after the day long festivities were over, Ben Vhehn stared at the ceiling above him in his quarters and contemplated on the force. From the moment the ship had been torn in half and his padawans, yes he considered them both his padawans regardless of what their titles and relations actually were, had been ripped from him he expected his life to be once more filled with despair and hopelessness. Feeling their bright lights winking out of existence had shaken him to the core of his very being. He had been well prepared to die at every moment in the war but he had not been prepared to lose two of the people he cared about most.

Then the Force itself had intervened.

He saw the galaxy as it was and what it could become. Saw it with a clarity he had never heard of before. At first he thought he had been the one to become one with the force and thanked it for only taking him, not his children. Then the Force opened itself to him and he began to See.

The veil was ripped away and he watched as things he was never privy to before played out before his eyes. He watched as Jango lost everything he’d ever known for the second time and was forced into slavery. Watched as Dooku was seduced by the darkness in the wake of Qui-gon’s death. Watched Satine as her grief and guilt consumed every waking moment of her life, pushing her toward more fanatical beliefs in a paranoid bid to never feel pain or loss ever again.

He saw what Anakin had done on Tatooine. The atrocity he committed and how the Chancellor, the Sith Lord they had been hunting for, had begun twisting his beloved padawan against the jedi.

He watched the darkness as it coalesced into a black hole of selfishness and hatred so strong all of Coruscant was corrupted by its mere presence.

‘No more!’ Cried the Force, before it reached out and saved its beloved champion from the jaws of death.

And wasn’t that just the most interesting part? It was not Anakin that the force chose to save the future of the galaxy, but Obi-wan. A man who had lost everything, who had been brought low so many times, yet still held firmly to the light even as the galaxy fell apart around him. Who refused to let himself fall to hatred and would give everyone a second chance if he was able. A man who loved with his entire being while never letting it become a possessive and selfish thing.

It had been humbling to see himself in that light.

‘Change.’ The Force soothed as it slowly cradled him in the aftermath of the crash. ‘Trust.’

Then it had reached deep inside him and brushed against something. A bright flame like a miniature star that burned with fierce determination in his breast.

It was only now, alone in his quarters, that he finally understood what had taken root inside him, what had been there all along.

It was the Manda.

Obi-wan Kenobi was gone. He had died when the Larty he’d been in was ripped apart by enemy fire and crashed on some forlorn battlefield. In his place was Ben Vhehn, reborn from the ashes of war.

And Ben had a mission to complete. One he would not, could not, fail.

Chapter Text

[Jaster]

Groaning as he rolled out of bed he checked his comm for any alerts and let out a sigh of relief when he saw nothing that couldn’t be dealt with later. A quick trip to the fresher later he was throwing on his armor and heading for the mess. The late shift would be getting off and the early shift would be heading to get some rest so the line for food was quite long. Looking around he noticed all the subdued or downright miserable verde and snickered to himself. It looked like some of his soldiers had indulged a little too much.

Jaster remembered those days. Now he only drank when he wanted to forget, which was a rare occurrence. His responsibilities as Mand’alor and duty to Jango made heavy drinking unappealing in the long run. He wasn’t young anymore either and the medics tended to give him the stink eye when he drank too much. That wasn’t even touching on his son’s reaction either. The boy could be a right little bastard when Jaster did something Jango thought was a danger to his own health.

Grabbing a cup of shig and some hot breakfast cereal he sat down wherever there was room and dug into first meal. As he sipped the steaming hot liquid he glanced around and frowned when he didn’t see Ben or Jango anywhere. He hadn’t seen Ben acting drunk the night before, even if he’d sucked back enough tihaar to down a bantha, so he didn’t think the man was sleeping off a hangover. In the mornings Jango always got up early for target practice and was almost always in the mess by the time Jaster got around to grabbing first meal. The lack of either of them was a little concerning.

Catching sight of Myles near the caf table, yawning wide enough he could practically hear the man’s jaw creaking, he waved his second over.

“Morn’ Alor.” The man mumbled as he plonked his ass on the bench across from Jaster. Dark grey eyes drooped slightly and he snorted in amusement.

“Long night?” Myles glared at him but the effect was lost when he yawned again.

“Had a long talk with the Allit’alor. They were a little less than impressed that I adopted someone without clearing it with them first.” Jaster winced even as a small smirk crossed his face. He was glad he was the head of his own clan. Dealing with chiefs from other clans was hard enough. He’d hate to clash with someone in his own clan. Jango was still young enough that although he could get argumentative he still obeyed Jaster when given a direct order.

“What happened?” Myles smiled triumphantly.

“Ben is still thoroughly adopted.” Jaster snorted. “Clan Vhehn is very proud to have the wielder of the Dha’kad’au as part of the family. Especially if the Mand’alor themselves has his eye on them.” Choking on his shig he wheezed and slapped his chest to clear his burning lungs. Looking up at the smug grin and mischievous twinkle in Myles’ eyes he let out a low groan.

“…that obvious?” He asked when he was finally able to speak without coughing.

“Alor, you made him Mereel Clan Tiingilar. The only time you cook is when Jango is sick or missing home. Otherwise? Everyone knows you hate being in the kitchen.” He had to look away from Myles as his face began to feel a little too warm. “If it’s any consolation I don’t think Ben has noticed.” Jaster frowned.

“He’s a bit…” Myles snickered.

“Oblivious? Yeah. Not his fault though. The one who taught him was a New Mandalorian, they probably didn’t even know half the cultural context when they taught him Mando’a. He said he was sixteen and living in Sundari at the time so I’m surprised he even knows as much Mando’a as he does.” Jaster grunted in agreement as he took another bite of his meal.

“I’ll hold off on telling him about courting traditions for a little while but if you’re going to be that obvious about it he’s going to notice.” He let out a sigh and ran a hand through his hair. Did he want Ben to notice his interest? He’d only just lost his family and given up his past life. He was going to need time to adjust. The poor man didn’t need the Mand’alor he now served to be showing that kind of interest in him.

“It wasn’t…” He hesitated. “I only made him the tiingilar because he asked about different recipes. He didn’t know so it wasn’t a real offer of courtship. Just an offer of friendship. He has enough on his plate.” Myles watched him, intelligent eyes narrowed slightly.

“Okay, I get it. But you know Jango isn’t going to stop. He wants to see you happy and he already likes Ben.” And Jango was rarely wrong about people. He wondered if that was due to him having the Force or if it was a gift from Manda. Either way it should have been obvious that Montross was scum with how his son always bristled in his presence. Hindsight was a cruel bitch. “That boy loves you something fierce but I think he’s been missing the attention that comes from having a second buir.” Jaster let out a low groan and Myles gave him a sympathetic pat on the shoulder.

“Should have thought of that. He’s always such a good kid when he’s not being a contrary little bastard.” Myles laughed, shaking with mirth.

“He is a teenager now.” Jaster gave him a dry look and it sent the man into another round of laughter.

“Do you know where he is this morning? Surprised I haven’t seen him yet.” Myles downed the last of his coffee.

“In the training room with Ben. He actually skipped blaster practice this morning to learn some force osik. Saw the two of them sitting in a corner, eyes closed and all quiet. Not sure what they’re doing now though.” Jaster smiled at the idea of Ben teaching Jango. They hadn’t talked further about it but it looked as if he’d made up his mind on his own.

“I think I’ll go see how they’re doing before I tackle the rest of the datawork. It’ll give you a little extra time to wake up too. Unless you want to sort it for me?” Myles snorted and cradled the empty cup.

“Nope. I’m getting more caf. See you in an hour?” He nodded.

“Around then, yeah. If something doesn’t explode and need my immediate attention.” Myles gave him a searing look.

“Don’t call the stars down around our ears now, we just got out of one hell of a mess. We don’t need another.” Jaster chuckled.

“Fair enough.”

[Ben]

Sitting across from the young Jango Fett he carefully hid his trepidation behind his strongest shields. Considering they were enough to keep Anakin out of his head he was certain that the young teenager before him wouldn’t be able to feel how anxious he was. Thank the force.

When Jango asked him that morning if he would teach him how to strengthen his bond with his elder sibling Ben could feel the teen’s worry and concern plainly. It tore at his heartstrings, especially because of the all too familiar eyes that were looking up at him as if he held all the answers. He’d caved immediately and now here they were in a corner of the training room that was filled with the early risers as they went about their normal routines.

“I want you to close your eyes and focus solely on your breathing. Inhale and exhale, this counts as one. It doesn’t matter how long you take, just breath as deeply and evenly as possible. As you breathe continue counting until you reach ten. When you’ve reached ten I want you to count back down to one. Always counting an inhale and exhale as a single instance.” Jango’s nose crinkled and how brow furrowed as he frowned in concentration. Ben had to be very careful not to let his amusement show. Force it reminded him of Anakin when he was younger. “If you lose track of the number, become distracted, or you hesitate I want you to start over again.”

“Why?” Ah, he was at that age wasn’t he?

“Because this is about clearing your mind and learning focus. Once you can count consistently without being distracted I will teach you the next step.” Jango was quiet for a moment before he seemed to give a mental shrug and closed his eyes. “Be sure to sit up straight.” One eye cracked open and he could read the unasked question on his face. “Cramps aren’t very fun and curling in on yourself makes breathing more difficult.” The teen grunted and closed his eyes again.

With a small chuckle Ben closed his own eyes and began to just breathe. After so many years of meditation he had earned the ability to just slip away into the flow of the force and let it fill him.

It was as simple as breathing now.

He could almost pinpoint the exact moment a stray thought caught the teen’s mind and how he got annoyed before he had to start over. It was perhaps fifteen minutes later, a whole six minutes longer than Anakin at his worst, before the teen was huffing in frustration.

“What’s bothering you?” He asked without opening his eyes. Jango started slightly, apparently he thought Ben was too focused to pay attention to his surroundings.

“Can’t stop thinking.” The teen said after a moment of silence. Ben hummed in response and slowly opened his eyes, coming back to himself fully.

“When do you feel the most at peace?” He was given a blank look and let out a small sigh. “Do you ever have moments where time just seems to slip away? When you’re so focused on something that you don’t notice anything around you or time passing at all? Where everything just feels right?” The teen blinked before smirking at him.

“Blaster training.” Ben huffed a small laugh. Of course it would involve blasters or otherwise some kind of fighting.

“How about hand-to-hand? Same thing?” Jango thought about it for a moment and shrugged.

“Kind of? Everything narrows and I get really focused on the person in front of me. Makes it easier to predict what they’re gonna do next.” He paused for a moment. “Sometimes I can see exactly how I’m going to win. And it feels like… like I forced them to make a mistake somehow.” Ben felt a jolt of surprise.

“Does the reverse happen?” The teen looked at him quizzically.

“Do you imagine your comrades winning, even if the odds are against you, and they somehow pull off the impossible.” The teen’s eyes widened slightly and he nodded.

“That a jetii thing?” Ben placed a hand on his chin, giving himself a moment to collect his thoughts.

“From what I’ve heard, yes. Although it isn’t something the jetiise have taught in nearly a thousand years. They called it Battle Meditation. It is a rare gift.” Jango looked skeptical. “It is said that a single jetii could cause an entire enemy army to falter while simultaneously granting a boost of morale to their comrades. Unfortunately I don’t have access to the archives anymore. But I might be able to look into this further for you, if you like?” He could practically see the gears turning in the teen’s mind.

“Yeah. Sounds useful.” He frowned. “But what about Arla?” Ben gave him a reassuring smile.

“We’ll focus on finding your sibling first, of course. But I think a moving meditation might work better for you.”

“That’s a thing?” Ben chuckled.

“It is. My last padawan-” He stalled as a wave of loss made his throat constrict. “He found it very difficult to quiet his mind. He found working on machines was far more calming than to sit still. I imagine someone like yourself, used to being on the move and always thinking, would find it easier as well.” Motioning for Jango to stand he got to his feet, running his hands self consciously down the new training clothes Urmai had handed him the day before. “Have you ever trained with a sword?” Jango perked up.

“Some, not much. There’s not many people who know how to wield a sword that have the time to teach me.” Something about the way the teen said it made Ben think that even if they had the time Jango might not have wanted to learn from them.

“Well, if I’m going to teach you jetii meditation I might as well teach you the sword as well. It’s how I learned in the first place.” A wide grin crossed Jango’s face and Ben’s stomach clenched.

Force he looked just like a younger version of Cody, it was almost too much.

“…are you okay?” Blinking he forced himself to smile.

“I’m fine. You wouldn’t happen to know if they keep swords in the armory here, would you?” Jango eyed him with a look that clearly said he didn’t believe him for a second. But thankfully he didn’t comment on the raging emotions Ben was trying to keep under wraps.

“They do. Come on, don’t have all day.” Ben chuckled and followed behind the teen as he led the way toward the armory.

Watching him Ben felt a warmth in his chest. It was hope. Hope that the future would be better, that his loss was a simple price to pay for the betterment of the galaxy.

This was the right path. He just had to remain strong.

Chapter Text

[Jaster]

Entering the training room he raised a brow at the group of warriors just milling about, talking lowly to one another and gesturing at the mats. Shoving his way past them with a huff, they were so focused on the fight before them they didn’t even notice his presence at first, he made his way to the front. When they finally realized who was in their midst they quickly moved out of his way to give him a full view.

And what a view it was.

Squaring off against one another Ben and Jango stood a few feet apart, eyes unwavering and bodies poised to move at a moment’s notice. In their hands were a pair of beskad, Ben’s longer and more slender while Jango’s was closer to the heavy sabers favored by the Mando’ade. He wasn’t quite sure what triggered the attack but Jango launched himself forward with a ferocity that stunned him. His son made three quick strikes that were easily deflected as a wide grin crossed Ben’s face.

“Good! Watch your form, keep everything in close, no wasted movements. Speed and precision are your allies, strength comes in time.” Hearing Ben as he coached Jango through another round of strikes made his budding feelings for the man all the harder to ignore.

He was teaching Jaster’s son how to defend himself with a traditional Mando weapon.

Stars it was attractive.

Apparently he wasn’t the only one who noticed either. He could feel the approval and interest coming from the people all around him.

A lesser man might feel jealous, territorial even, but Jaster just felt grateful. His people, for all their faults, were accepting of those who came to them looking for a new way of life. Jaster couldn’t help but wonder what path Ben would follow now. He could already see the man would be an excellent teacher to any children put in his care.

With a twist that was all technique Ben stole Jango’s sword and caught it in his offhand before spinning it expertly in his palm to readjust his grip. Pointing both weapons at Jango he maintained his sharp focus until the teen finally backed down. “I kneel.” Jango admitted in defeat. Ben smiled and it was like the morning sun.

“Excellent work, Jango! You’re a quick study and know yourself well. With more training and a little more height I don’t think there will be any enemy you can’t defeat.” The teen’s cheeks pinked slightly at the praise, even as he pretended to grumble at his loss. It made Jaster chuckle at the easy way the two interacted with one another.

“You didn’t tell me you were ambidextrous.” The teen huffed, sounding more annoyed than he felt.

“Always keep an extra blade hidden in your boot.” Ben replied, the skin around his eyes crinkling with mirth. It was an old saying, and one that still held true.

“Yeah, yeah.” Jango groused, rolling his eyes, but it was clearly for show and Ben knew it too as he huffed in amusement.

“Are you ready to try the moving meditation again?” Jango frowned, looking down at his hands and flexing them for a moment before looking back up at Ben, nodding in acceptance. The redhead handed him back the beskad and stood nearby, where Jango could see him. The man murmured quiet instructions, nudging the teen into place before slowly leading him through what appeared to be proper sword forms.

“Alor, looking for your wayward ad and your ru’jetii?” The warrior next to him asked. Jaster glanced at them and wanted to groan at the wide grin on their face. Rikad Moru’teh, exceptional slicer, and the biggest gossip in the Haat’ade.

“Got it in one.” He admitted easily, hoping to forestall any unnecessary peculation. “Last I heard he was supposed to be teaching my kid meditation.” Rikad snickered.

“He was, but apparently your kid thinks too much.” Jaster snorted in amusement.

“And that turned into beskad lessons… how?” Rikad shrugged.

“Not sure. No one was paying too much attention to them until they started sparring.” Jaster raised an eyebrow and the warrior shrugged. “Your kid can take care of himself and they were just sitting there quietly, like statues. Pretty boring.” Clearly that had changed when Ben and Jango had drawn swords, as the large group of spectators could attest to.

“Well, it looks like everything is going well here-” As one of his warriors stalked confidently toward the redhead Jaster wanted to let out a groan of frustration; he’d spoken too soon.

The green armored verd stopped just outside of Ben and Jango’s reach, one hand wrapped around the hilt of their own beskad. “Just because you’re here now doesn’t make you qualified to teach the ad of the Mand’alor.” Jango’s shoulders stiffened with offense and Ben’s eyes turned calculating as he looked the warrior up and down, as if trying to judge whether or not it was worth the effort to respond. “You haven’t even proven yourself capable yet and you’re already corrupting our ade with your jetii teachings.”

“You know,” Ben said loudly, with an obvious Sundari drawl that set Jaster’s teeth on edge, “if you wanted to spar all you had to do was ask. No need to make a large spectacle out of it.” Ben motioned for Jango to step back and his son glowered at the intruding verd before he obeyed. Jango was a smart kid, he could see what was going on just as easily as Jaster could.

Jaster knew that some of his people would have a hard time accepting Ben, even though they could all feel how Manda sang for the man. What he hadn’t expected was someone to challenge him so soon.

Spying his father Jango jogged over to stand next to him, beskad sheathed at his waist and crossing his arms over his chest as he glowered at Ben’s challenger. Jaster glanced down at his kid and placed a hand supportively on his shoulder. “You alright?” Jango let out a low growl.

“He’s one of Montross’ old lieutenants.” Jaster scowled, finally placing the man.

“You could have cried challenge, you’re old enough to defend your own honor.” Jango shrugged half-heartedly.

“It… didn’t feel right. This is Ben’s fight. He has to prove that he has the skills to teach me.” He looked up at Jaster then over at the two warriors who were standing with swords drawn but making no moves.

The fight was over so quickly Jaster wondered if time itself had sped up for a moment or if Ben had been using the force.

“You cheated!” Claimed the now defeated warrior. Many who had still been gathered around to watch the drama unfold hissed and growled in response.

“I see.” Said Ben, looking at the discarded beskad lying on the ground. His eyes narrowed for a moment before he looked over at Jaster and placed a fist over his heart. “I swear on the Ka’ra, before the Mand’alor, that I will not use the Force if my opponent wishes a rematch.” There came a hush as all eyes turned to Jaster.

“I accept your oath.” He nodded at Ben before turning to the challenger. “Do you wish to challenge Ben Vhehn of Clan Vhehn, House Mereel, to a rematch?” The man stiffened, knowing that if he didn’t accept the challenge now he would be seen as a coward. Getting to his feet he picked up his beskad.

“I do. To first blood.” Jaster hid his grimace behind a blank mask. Ben was wearing bracers and basic training clothes, while the challenger was wearing full armor. It would be a difficult fight.

“Ben?” The man gave him a wide grin, eyes sharp and calculating.

“To first blood.” Ben accepted, turning and falling into a ready stance. Jaster looked to his opponent, ensuring he was ready as well.

He waited a moment or two just to be safe before calling for the match to begin.

To say that Ben was an exceptional warrior would be doing the man a disservice.

If anyone had asked Jaster he might have been able to warn them about how easily the former jetii had wiped the floor with Tor- but no one had asked. The man was a former jetii and had at some point in the past had military training, though that was only a guess based on what Jaster had observed of his behavior.

The match didn’t last much longer than the first.

Even after the man had added in a couple of surprises Ben just danced out of the way before counterattacking with pure skill. Again the challenger’s sword ended up on the floor as his arm bled sluggishly through a hole in his kute.

“This proves nothing.” Ben’s eyes darkened and his expression became thunderous.

“With and without the force I have been proven the victor twice. Yield, before a simple challenge becomes a duel.” There was a heavy feeling in the air now, like an oncoming storm.

“That’s enough.” Jaster said, striding forward so he was in full view, Jango on his heels. “Ben has proven himself multiple times now. First by saving my life, second by killing Tor Vizsla in single combat, third by saving Jango’s life, and fourth by swearing the Resol’nare and completing his Cin Vhetin. The Manda accepts him as one of us- I will not repeat myself a second time.”

It is, perhaps, a little heavy handed but the murmurs and feelings of agreement-acceptance from the majority of his people tell Jaster he’d chosen his words well. Jango looked more than a little smug as he went to stand beside Ben, arms crossed and shoulders squared.

“As for beskad training.” He said, turning to his son. “Ben is free to offer, and Jango is free to accept. As a legal adult no one may interfere in his decisions save for his Aliit.” Meaning it would be up to Jaster to do something about it if he didn’t approve.

Of course he couldn’t actually see that happening any time soon. Ben was the only option they had if Jango wanted to learn about the force properly without hurting himself. On top of that Ben had done nothing but be courteous, respectful, and treat Jango like the intelligent young man he was.

“Like anyone could stop me.” Jango muttered under his breath, just loud enough that Ben and Jaster could catch the words. He snorted in amusement and glanced at Ben to see the man smiling. It almost looked wistful or nostalgic but quickly turned fond.

“Now that everything has been sorted, you lot get back to work!” He called out over the crowd. “I’m sure some of you are going to miss the beginning of your morning shifts!” There were a few grumbles and curses but the crowd did end up dispersing quickly.

“Thank you for the vote of confidence, Alor.” Jaster let out an exasperated huff.

“I told you to call me Jaster.” Ben blinked at him before his brows furrowed..

“I thought that was only because we were going to be aliit, before my ori’vod intervened and I became a Vhehn.” Thankfully Ben had kept his voice low, for which Jaster was thankful.

“You saved my and Jango’s lives; call me Jaster.” Ben smiled.

“Of course, Jaster. Now; I do believe I was teaching Jango how to meditate.” Jaster raised a brow at the man and pointedly looked at the swords they were both carrying.

“Meditation?” Ben chuckled.

“Moving meditation is best for those of us who cannot clear our minds of all thoughts. Engaging the body can help center the mind and I believe Jango will be quite good at it. He’s already shown a talent for swordsmanship.” His son stood a little taller at the praise, a smug grin crossing his face.

“Don’t let him get a big ego.” Jaster half joked. Ben’s eyes practically glittered with amusement.

“I don’t intend to. If his head starts getting too large for his helmet I’ll be sure to correct him.” He spun the sword in his hand for emphasis.

“Good. Now you two have fun, I have paperwork to finish.” Ben gave him a sympathetic look before turning back to Jango.

“Shall we start from the beginning?”

Jaster left with the pleasant image of Ben teaching his son the art of the beskad in the back of his mind.

Maybe he would ask the newest Clan Vhehn member for some sword tips later…

Chapter Text

When Ben had first followed him to the training rooms Jango had felt every eye on them as they entered. Many took one look at him and respectfully pretended not to be staring but there were a few who continued to openly stare. Jango thought it might be too much for Ben but when he glanced up at the man he saw, as well as felt, a kind of shift in his stance.

It was like he was used to being watched and judged.

“This should do.” Ben had said as he found some mats used for stretching and set them down in a quiet corner.

Meditation was weird. Sitting still like this and just breathing… it made him feel like there was an itch in his lower back. Like his body just couldn’t relax.

Cracking open one eye he watched Ben for a minute and had to marvel at how calm the man looked. As if the entire world around him was quieter and still. It felt… safe.

Realizing he’d lost count he cursed internally and quickly closed his eyes, sitting up straight again so he didn’t give himself cramps like Ben warned.

After who knows how long he finally admitted defeat and let out a huff of frustration.

“What’s bothering you?” Ben asked, making him jolt in surprise. He’d thought the mad was too into his own mind or something to actually be aware of what was going on around him. A mistake he wouldn’t be making again.

He thought about his problem for a moment before shrugging. “Can’t stop thinking.”

Ben let out a low hum of consideration before opening his eyes.

“When do you feel most at peace?” The man asked him. Jango just stared at him, uncertain how to answer. “Do you ever have moments where time just seems to slip away?” Ben tried again. “Where everything just feels right?”

Jango blinked before a smirk crossed his face. “Blaster training.” Of course.

Ben let out a sound that was halfway between a huff and a laugh. “How about hand-to-hand? Same thing?”

Jango thought about it before shrugging. “Kind of? Everything narrows and I get really focused on the person in front of me.” Jaster had mentioned it was a bad habit that he’d have to train himself out of. Being too focused on a single enemy wasn’t exactly a good thing. But the problem was that Jaster couldn’t really explain what he was doing wrong, and Jango couldn’t explain how it felt either. “Makes it easier to predict what they’re gonna do next.” But left his back open for a surprise attack. “Sometimes I can see exactly how I’m going to win. And it feels like… like I forced them to make a mistake somehow.”

Ben looked surprised before leaning forward slightly, staring at him as if Jango was a particularly interesting puzzle.

“Does the reverse happen?” He asked.

Jango looked at him in confusion.

“Do you imagine your comrades winning, even if the odds are against you, and they somehow pull off the impossible.”

Jango’s eyes widened. Yes! Exactly that! It was like just because he wanted it to happen it did, even though he knew they were outmatched. But if Ben knew about it… “That a jetii thing?” He couldn’t help but to ask.

Ben placed a hand on his chin, stroking his beard for a moment as if in thought.

"From what I’ve heard, yes. Although it isn’t something the jetiise have taught in nearly a thousand years. They called it Battle Meditation. It is a rare gift.”

When Jango gave him a skeptical look Ben smiled at him, as if knowing exactly what he was feeling.

“It is said that a single jetii could cause an entire enemy army to falter while simultaneously granting a boost of morale to their comrades. Unfortunately I don’t have access to the archives anymore. But I might be able to look into this further for you, if you like?”

Jango thought about it for a moment. It would be a very useful ability for his squad. “Yeah, sounds useful.” He frowned. “But what about Arla?”

Ben smiled and it was something both soft and firm all at once. “We’ll focus on your sibling first, of course. But I think moving meditation might work better for you.”

“That’s a thing?” Then why the hell hadn’t they started with that first?

“It is. My last padawan-” For a moment the air around Ben turned sad before he took a steadying breath and continued. “They found it very difficult to quiet their mind. They found working on machines was far more calming than sitting still. I imagine someone like yourself, used to being on the move and always thinking, would find it easier as well.”

Ben motioned for him to stand as he got to his feet. There was a moment where he seemed to be surprised by the clothes he was wearing but he quickly hid his reaction behind a mischievous smile. “Have you ever trained with a sword?”

With the way Ben had asked he couldn’t help but to hope this was more than just a simple question. “Some, not much. There’s not many people who know how to wield a sword that have the time to teach me.” And half of them had been friends with Montross.

“Well, if I’m going to teach you jetii meditation I might as well teach you the sword as well. It’s how I learned in the first place.” Ben’s eyes were practically glittering with mirth and Jango couldn’t help but to grin in response.

Then Ben’s face fell and his eyes glazed over. It was like he was in another time and place entirely.

Jango had heard about this kind of thing before, Ben was probably having some sort of flashback. “…are you okay?” He asked carefully, hoping not to startle the man.

Ben blinked and came out of whatever it was quickly, giving Jango a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “I’m fine. You wouldn’t happen to know if they keep swords in the armory here, would you?”

Jango narrowed his eyes and watched the man for a moment, he wasn’t so sure that Ben was as okay as he pretended to be. But he hadn’t done anything to make Jango think he was unstable so for now he’d let it go. But if it happened a few more times he’d tell Jaster and Myles.

“They do. Come on, don’t have all day.” Jango turned toward the armory and waved Ben to follow.

Ben chuckled behind him.

Once they’d found some ‘suitable’ swords, Ben’s words not his, they returned to the training room. This time the others didn’t pay them any mind, which was a little odd but he didn’t question it.

“Since you said you already had some training I assume you know how to keep yourself from injury. With that in mind we’re going to do some empty handed katas first, so you can get a feel for the motions.” Ben slid into a stance, making sure his body was turned so Jango could see exactly where he’d planted his feet. “This is the stance you’ll be returning to after every movement. I won’t bore you with a lecture on muscle memory and good habits, as I’m sure you already know all about that from training with your buir.” Ben gave him a playful wink and Jango snickered.

As they worked on the stances and movements he felt a little awkward with nothing in his hands. It had been a long time since he’d had to work without a weapon and the lack of weight was throwing him off.

“Hmm, I see that this isn’t quite helping is it?” Ben asked with a teasing smile.

“It’s… I don’t know how to compensate for the weight, I can’t imagine how it feels in my hands.” He said honestly, even as his face felt a little warm with embarrassment. But Jaster had always told him that you couldn’t get better at something if you didn’t know your faults.

“Oh, I can see how that would make it a little difficult.” Ben looked him up and down for a moment before shrugging. “So, why don’t we spar a little then?”

“What!?”

“I know enough to ensure neither of us are hurt and if something happens that can’t be stopped by normal means I can halt us both with the force if necessary. If you’re alright with that, of course. I would never want to push something like that upon you suddenly.” Ben said sincerely.

“No, uh, I don’t mind. But you really want to spar with me- with beskad’e?” There was an excited grin on his face, he just knew it.

Ben chuckled and Jango’s excitement must have been contagious because he saw a matching grin on Ben’s face too.

The spar started slowly, with Jango getting used to the weight of his weapon and Ben gently testing what little knowledge he had.

Jango could feel his attention narrowing and had to shake himself to stop it from happening again.

“Don’t hold back, Jango. Let yourself go.” Ben said with a reassuring smile. “The force is guided first by instinct and second by training. Let yourself go, I swear I will be right here if something happens.”

Looking up at the man’s eyes he almost swore he could feel the depth of his oath all around him. Like something in the air was telling him he could trust this man with his life, and the life of those he cared about.

“Okay.” He took a deep breath and let everything else just fade away. His attention was entirely on his opponent and as his focus sharpened so did everything else.

He could see every little shift and movement as if it were clear as day, could even swear he heard the pattern of his breathing and the beating of his heart. A prickle of something went down his arms and he felt as if he should stop, whatever he was doing was unnatural-

“Jango, take a moment to breathe, the way I taught you earlier. Just let everything settle. This is normal for someone with your gift, you don’t need to be… nervous.” He was glad that Ben hadn’t said he was afraid, even though he knew that’s what this was. “It is part of you, which means it can be conquered, can be honed like any other skill.” He sucked in a harsh breath and let it out. He continued to breathe deeply until he felt himself calming down, getting used to the sensation.

“Excellent!” Ben said softly, a look of pride in his eyes that Jango wasn’t certain he deserved quite yet. “Now. When you’re ready I want you to come at me. Don’t try to force yourself, just let your instincts guide you. Don’t worry about me, I am a master of the jetiise defensive sword style. You will not hurt me.”

Jango nodded, trusting that Ben knew what he was doing. Raising his blade he waited for the right moment to strike, brown eyes catching every little twitch and shifting of muscles.

There!

Without thinking about it he launched into an overhead strike. When it was deflected he used the momentum to swing his blade for another strike. Ben deflected again, smiling.

“See? What did I tell you? Your instincts know what to do, now we only need to train your body so it can react to what your instincts are telling you..”

Jango lowered his arm and smiled back. “And that’s what you’re going to teach me?”

Ben sheathed his blade and stepped forward, hesitating only a moment before reaching out to shift Jango’s limbs into a better stance. “That should be closer to what you need. Your center of gravity is different than mine. Lower.” With an approving nod he stepped back and gave jango room to swing the sword from his new stance.

It felt so much more comfortable than what he had been taught before.

“Lets go through a few movements and then you can try yourself against me again.” Ben said with a knowing smile.

They sparred twice more and both times Jango felt less unnerved by the way his focus sharpened and his body almost moved on its own. But… “Isn’t it a problem to focus on only one enemy on the battlefield?” He finally asked.

“Certainly it is, but the more you practice with this the more your awareness will expand. You’re already noticing the others around you, you just haven’t realized it yet. Your mind is a bit… stuck right now. But the force and the manda are very similar, they both know where their children are at all times. Once you can consciously tap into that you will be able to find someone just by focusing on them.”

It was a lot to take in but he supposed that Ben had a lot more time to learn this kind of thing than he did.

“Wait. Is that what you’re trying to teach me now then? To sense other people? Is that how we’re going to find Arla?”

Ben gave him a pleased smile and nodded. “Exactly. We just need to break you out of your bad habits first. And you are already doing very well.” Jango couldn’t help but to look down and flush slightly. Ben wasn’t an easy teacher, he’d been pushing Jango hard this entire time, but he was liberal with his praise.

“One last spar, and then we’ll get into the moving meditation properly.” The man chided, even as his eyes sparkled with mirth.

“Yes, Ben.” Jango said, rolling his eyes slightly.

Jango fell into the stance, letting his mind sharpen as he focused on his opponent.

Three quick strikes and three deflections.

“Good! Watch your form, keep everything in close, no wasted movements. Speed and precision are your allies, strength comes in time.” Ben said as he shifted his feet and prepared for another attack.

Jango rushed forward and swung the sword, hoping to disarm his opponent. But in a twist that wasn’t all that surprising Ben wrenched the weapon from his hand and caught it. Spinning it in his palm, just to show off Jango was sure, the man readjusted the sword in his grasp before turning both of them toward Jango.

Jango stood there defiantly for a moment, trying to think of how to wrangle his weapon back, but realized that wasn’t what Ben was trying to teach him. With a small huff he admitted defeat. “I kneel.”

Ben’s smile was bright and cheerful. “Excellent work, Jango! You’re a quick study and know yourself well. With more training and a little more height I don’t think there will be any enemy you can’t defeat.”

Ben needed to stop with the praise. It was so embarrassing! Of course Jango would never admit, even to himself, that he actually liked the praise.

“You didn’t tell me you were ambidextrous.” He frowned.

“Always keep an extra blade hidden in your boot.” Ben said with amusement.

“Yeah, yeah.” Jango groused, rolling his eyes again. Even if it was just for show.

“Are you ready to try the moving meditation again?” Ben asked lightly.

Jango frowned and looked down at his hands, flexing them as he remembered the weight of the weapon and how it should move. Looking back up at Ben he nodded.

“Good, we’ll do these once with the beskad’e, then we’ll continue without them.”

Jango followed along, feeling a lot more settled than he had when they’d first started. Ben was a good teacher, Jango mused to himself as he let his body shift into the next stance.

Jango almost swore when he felt something tingle at the back of his neck, like a predator staring right at him. It was something he’d come to rely on out in the field, a kind of warning system that meant something bad was about to happen. His head snapped up just as Ben lowered his weapon and turned to regard a verd in green beskar’gam.

The warrior stopped, not close enough to attack but enough to be intruding on Jango’s lesson.

Jango would have dismissed the warrior as someone who was just curious but the way their hand was wrapped around the hilt of their own sword had Jango on high alert. They looked familiar…

Oh! He knew this man. He was one of Montross’ lieutenants… that didn’t make the situation any better in Jango’s opinion.

“Just because you’re here now doesn’t make you qualified to teach the ad of the Mand’alor.” The warrior turned to Ben and Jango could practically hear the sneer in their voice. “You haven’t even proven yourself capable yet and you’re already corrupting our ade with your jetii teachings.”

Jango’s body stiffened in offense and he felt his anger rising.

“You know,” Jango turned to look at Ben in surprise, “if you wanted to spar all you had to do was ask.” The hairs on the back of his neck rose and he felt the sudden urge to rub at it to make the sensation go away. Ben normally talked with an accent that was somewhere between Kalevalan and Concordian, with hints of Concord Dawn here and there. From what he’d said after his adoption Jango was pretty sure he’d learned from whoever would teach him, so it wasn’t that strange for him to have a mix of pronunciation. It still sent a feeling of wrongness down his spine though.

“No need to make a large spectacle out of it.” Ben motioned him to step back and he couldn’t help but to glare at the verd.

More pinpricks at the back of his neck and he started to notice that he could feel the people around him, just like Ben said he would. It wasn’t anything concrete and as he felt someone familiar he spotted his buir standing with the others and watching.

Jango jogged over to stand next to Jaster, sheathing his beskad on the way. Standing next to his buir he crossed his arms over his chest and glared at the man who had interrupted his lesson.

Jaster placed a hand on his shoulder and he could feel some of the tension leaving his body. “You alright?” His buir asked quietly so no one else would hear.

Jango let out a low growl of discontent. “He’s one of Montross’ old lieutenants.” He glanced up at his buir to see him scowling.

“You could have cried challenge, you’re old enough to defend your own honor.” Jaster reminded him, though he didn’t look particularly happy at the thought.

Jango gave a half shrug, letting his buir’s presence calm him. “It… didn’t feel right. This is Ben’s fight. He has to prove that he has the skills to teach me.” Which he had already proven when he not only saved Jaster but Jango as well. He’d taken the man’s scolding to heart and didn’t try to reach out again, except to poke at that faint sensation in the back of his mind that reminded him Arla was still alive.

He looked up at Jaster, wondering what his buir was thinking about all this, then quickly looked back at Ben and the warrior as they squared off.

The fight was over in an instant. Jango’s eyes went wide in surprise and he had to hold back a whistle of appreciation. Someone else in the crowd wasn’t as skilled at holding back their reaction and he heard a very soft ‘fucking hell’ somewhere behind him.

“You cheated!” The moment the words left the green warrior’s mouth everyone around him started to growl and hiss in disapproval.

“I see.” Ben said, eyes as cold and sharp as any blade. Turning the man spied Jaster and placed a fist over his chest.

Jango held his breath in anticipation.

“I swear on the Ka’ra, before the Mand’alor, that I will not use the Force if my opponent wishes a rematch.”

Jaster’s words were loud in the hush that followed Ben’s statement. “I accept your oath.” Jango grinned. “Do you wish to challenge Ben Vhehn of Clan Vhehn, House Mereel, to a rematch?” Oh shit. His buir was dead serious now. Before it had been just a simple test of skill, but now it was a straight up duel.

“I do. To first blood.” Jango wanted to speak up, to challenge the man’s sense of honor, but he kept his mouth shut. It wouldn’t do Ben any favors if he tried to intervene.

“Ben?” Jaster asked, just to be certain.

The man gave his buir a wide grin, eyes sharp and calculating. “To first blood.” He said without hesitation, falling into a different stance to the one he had been teaching Jango moments before.

Jaster waited a moment, to make sure they were both ready, before lifting his arm. “Begin!” He said as he dropped the arm, signaling the start of the duel.

Before, Ben had been too fast to really appreciate his sword form. But now that he’d slowed down Jango could say, without a doubt, that it was Ben he wanted teaching him the sword. The redhead was like liquid ferocity tightly controlled. If this was what his buir had seen when Ben killed Tor then Jango understood completely why the old man was so smitten already.

The green clad verd didn’t last much longer in the second duel, even with his armor to deflect some of the blows he just wasn’t skilled enough. He’d even resorted to hand to hand and petty tricks to try and win, but Ben just took it all in stride.

There was a grunt of pain as the warrior’s sword ended up on the ground, blood dripping from his arm through a hole in his kute.

“This proves nothing.” He snarled.

Ben’s eyes turned cloudy and his expression darkened. Jango wondered if he was about to see him lose his cool for the first time.

“With and without the force I have been proven the victor twice. Yield, before a simple challenge becomes a duel.” Ben said with careful calmness.

Jango tilted his head slightly. Had he not realized that this counted as a duel already?

The air felt thick with intent and Jango watched the two of them as the tension grew.

“That’s enough.” Jaster commanded, walking toward the two combatants. Jango quickly followed, not wanting to be left out. This duel did partially concern him, after all. “Ben has proven himself multiple times now. First by saving my life, second by killing Tor Vizsla in single combat, third by saving Jango’s life, and fourth by swearing the Resol’nare and completing his Cin Vhetin. The Manda accepts him as one of us- I will not repeat myself a second time.” Jaster stated as he stopped next to Ben, unofficially making it known that he was taking the redhead’s side in this conflict.

Jango felt a sense of triumph as he smirked at Montross’ old lieutenant, standing beside Ben with his arms crossed and head held high.

“As for beskad training.” Jaster looked at him and Jango stood straighter. “Ben is free to offer, and Jango is free to accept. As a legal adult no one may interfere in his decisions save for his Aliit.”

“Like anyone could stop me.” He muttered, grinning to himself and glancing up at Ben to see him smiling. He also heard Jaster’s snort of amusement and knew his buir was perfectly okay with Ben training him.

“Now that everything has been sorted, you lot get back to work!” Jango snickered at the guilty shuffling from the gathered warriors. “I’m sure some of you are going to miss the beginning of your morning shifts!” There were more grumbles but the crowd did begin to disperse. Some leaving for their shifts and others going back to morning training.

“Thank you for the vote of confidence, Alor.” He looked up at Ben as the man spoke, giving Jaster an almost apologetic look. His buir just huffed in exasperation.

“I told you to call me Jaster.” Jango grinned, looking between the two of them as if this were a meshgeroya match.

“I thought that was only because we were going to be aliit, before my ori’vod intervened and I became a Vhehn.” Ben practically whispered, making sure no one was close enough to hear him.

“You saved my and Jango’s lives;” his buir said with a grateful smile, “call me Jaster.”

“Of course, Jaster.” Ben smiled in return. “Now; I do believe I was teaching Jango how to meditate.”

Jaster looked between the swords on their hips and raised a brow at them. “Meditation?”

Ben chuckled. “Moving meditation is best for those of us who cannot clear our minds of all thoughts. Engaging the body can help center the mind and I believe Jango will be quite good at it. He’s already shown a talent for swordsmanship.”

Jango preened at the praise, glad that Ben had said so in front of his buir.

“Don’t let him get a big ego.” Jaster joked, a fond look crossing his face.

“I don’t intend to. If his head starts getting too large for his helmet I’ll be sure to correct him.” Ben said playfully back.

“Good. Now you two have fun, I have paperwork to finish.” Jaster sighed.

Ben gave Jaster a sympathetic look before he turned his attention back to jango.

“Shall we start from the beginning?” Ben asked lightly, although there was a mischievous look on his face that made the question sound a lot less innocent than it seemed.

They were about halfway done the second run through the kata when there was a commotion near the doors to the training hall. Everyone moved out of the way as an irate baar’ur stormed inside, cursing under his breath.

“You!” The chagrian growled, pointing at Ben. “Put that away at once and sit your ass down!”

Ben’s eyes went wide as a look of pure surprise turned to one of chagrin and dread. “Now, now, Br. Verill, I’m certain it’s not as bad as it loo-”

“Did I fucking stutter!?” The male stopped to stare down at Ben and even Jango could feel the barely contained fury.

“No, Baar’ur.” Ben muttered with a grimace as he sheathed his weapon and lowered himself to the floor.

Jango couldn’t even be mad that their training had been interrupted… again. Because if the Baar’ur was this angry then Ben had to be wounded in some way.

“Is he alright, Br. Verill?” Jango asked as he stood off to the side, watching the two of them.

“This absolute maniac has four cracked ribs, a hairline fracture in his left wrist, and a sprained ankle that he’s been walking around on like an idiot!” Everything in the training room stopped as multiple verde winced in sympathy or stared incredulously.

“You mean he dueled Kalnyr twice while injured?” Someone asked, sounding awed.

Ben winced as the Baar’ur’s ire rose again.

“Oh, I heard about that alright. And since this dumbass can’t seem to sit still long enough to not cause himself further injury I’m confining him to medbay for the next sixteen hours at least!”

“I can assure you that-” Ben started, his voice polite and reasonable.

“Save it. The only one who can overrule me is the Mand’alor, and only barely. In all the excitement and busy work he must have forgotten what I told you both yesterday. Otherwise I doubt he’d have let this continue.” Even Jango winced at that one. No one wanted the irate Baar’ur chewing their ass out for ignoring medical. “Now come on, You can lean on me so you don’t put too much pressure on that sprain.”

Ben looked skeptical and Br. Verill growled. “Or I can sedate you and toss you over my shoulder.” He warned.

Ben looked around at the others before looking up at Jango for confirmation.

“He’ll do it. I’ve seen him do it before.” Jango supplied easily enough.

Ben let out a low moan of horror before finally allowing the chagrian medic to help him to his feet.

Br. Verill looked around with a scowl. “Out of the way and quit gawking!”

Ben looked back at him and gave him an apologetic smile. “It appears I must go to the medical room. I’m sorry our lesson was cut short. Practice the breathing and weaponless exercise for now, but don’t try the katas with a beskad without me for now. We’ll pick this up again later, I promise.”

And with that Ben was being hauled out of the room and off to the medical bay, where he would be subjected to Br. Verill’s tender mercy.

“Are all jetiise this insane?” Someone asked aloud.

“Who knows, ask Ben next time and see if he actually answers you.” There were some chuckles before everyone slowly went back to work.

Jango stood there for a long moment, looking down at the sword on his hip and to where Ben had been taken. With a sigh he left the weapon where it was and shifted his feet until his stance felt right. By the time Ben was able to teach him again he wanted to have something to show for it.

As he breathed and went through each movement he felt that awareness around him grow and for the first time ever his focus didn’t narrow down to a single point. There was a flicker in the back of his mind and a bright smile crossed his face.

‘I’m coming, Arla. Just hold on a little bit longer!’

Chapter Text

When Jaster heard about the incident after he’d left the training room he wanted to slam his head onto his desk and groan. How in the haran had he forgotten that Ben was injured? During all of the fuss in making the man a Mando’ad and keeping the peace, not to mention getting everything Montross had karked with fixed, it had completely slipped his mind!

If Jaster was being honest, however, and he always tried to be, he would admit that Ben was quite the distraction in and of himself. And the man seemed to have it down to a science as well, purposefully downplaying things so no one noticed.

Myles, the absolute bastard, was sitting on the other side of the desk and grinning as he poorly tried to hide his snickers.

Jaster glared at him over the stacks of datapads. “He’s your vod, shouldn’t you be more worried about his health?” He groused.

“Pft. Not with Br. Verill sitting on him.” He said with a grin. “There’s no one better at wrangling stubborn idiots than that old striil. If Ben can escape him I’ll honestly be impressed.” The man snickered before his eyes fell back on the datapads. “Shab, Jaster, this is a mess.”

Jaster winced before letting out a heavy sigh. “I know, vod. But it could have been so much worse.”

Myles stared at him for a long moment, still as a statue. His expression shifted between incredulity and curiosity before he finally opened his mouth. “How?” He asked quietly, uncertain whether or not he actually wanted the answer.

The man really was too curious for his own good.

“Ben is a Seer.” He explained simply.

This man was Ben’s family now, he had a right and even a duty to know. If the redhead fell into a vision trance at any moment others would have to be on the look out so they could protect him while he was vulnerable.

“He told me if I died then Jango would become Mand’alor after me, without even being given the time to grieve my death.” From the urgency Ben had described he could only guess that Jango had been declared the new Mand’alor not even a day after his death. “Then, some time in the future, the Jetiise and Haat’ade would be tricked into fighting one another to the death until only Jango was left.” He glared at the table. “Then the Republic would make a deal with the Evaar’ade, who would go on to destroy as much of our culture as they could.” The graveness in those stormy blue eyes still haunted him, sending a shiver down his spine.

Myles shuddered, looking just as spooked. “Shab… I need to tell the Aliit’alor about this. See if we can’t find Ben a mind healer to help him through these things he sees in his visions.”

And that, right there, was the second reason Jaster hadn’t fought Myles when the man declared Ben for his clan. The Vhehn clan were well known for their down to earth, understanding, and accepting nature. Not to mention their kindness and fierce loyalty.

Myles stiffened suddenly and his eyes narrowed in thought. “He said he was renouncing his faith because the Jetiise got his child and grandchild killed, but that’s not the whole truth, is it?” He looked Jaster in the eyes as he spoke. “He came to save you so that Jango wouldn’t become Mand’alor, so that we didn’t end up fighting the Jetiise in the future and leave Manda’yaim to the Evaar’ade.”

“He’s a bit of a self sacrificing idiot, isn’t he?” Jaster said with a snort.

Myles blinked at him, his expression difficult to read. “He’s not the only one, Jaster.” He said with an amused huff before shaking his head and picking up another datapad. “We should try to put a dent into this before mid-meal. That way you won’t feel guilty when you visit medical to check on your ven’cyare.” Myles lips tipped upward at the corners in a playful smirk.

“My ven- Myles!” Jaster spluttered in embarrassment.

How many years had it been since he’d felt this embarrassed? He was certain from the laugh coming from his new second that his expression must have been somewhere between exasperated and scandalized. “Smartass.” He muttered.

“You promoted me, and that promotion comes with perks.” The man said with unrepentant glee.

“Smart. Ass.” Jaster repeated, this time louder so the man could actually hear him.

Myles let out another bark of laughter before the two of them fell into a companionable silence, going back to their work. The massive clusterkriff left by Montross was going to give the both of them nightmares for years, he was certain.

Highlights of the traitor’s crimes included; an accusation of corpse robbing, a disregard for personal boundaries resulting in the sobriety of a verd being violated, and a mental health scare when one of his verd was ordered to do something that brought up past memories of childhood trauma.

By the time mid-meal rolled around Myles was practically vibrating in his seat from the need to do violence.

Jaster just felt old- old, worn, and wondering how he could have missed this for so long. How had he been so blind to have placed his trust in someone that had willfully hurt so many of his people…

Before he could work himself into another fret looking over the newest horror story there was a knock at the door. “It’s open!” He called.

“Wow, buir, you look like osik.” Jango said as he walked inside, bucket tucked under one arm and eyes narrowed critically as he looked his poor buir up and down.

“Thanks for pointing that out, ad’ika.” Jaster said dryly.

Myles let out a small choked off laugh, trying to hide his grin behind a datapad. Jango glanced at the man with a wide mischievous grin. “No debt, buir. I think you should go get something to eat though, you’ve been in here for hours already.” The lad stopped next to his desk and set his helmet down. “I’ll take over with Myles for a bit.”

Jaster’s brows rose in surprise. Jango hated datawork. If he never had to submit a report again in his life the teen would throw a damned party.

“Really?” He asked, wondering if this was a ploy.

“Of course! While you’re getting yourself some food you can grab some for Ben too, since he’s in the medbay and all.” Jango’s dark eyes sparkled with determination and Jaster let out a defeated huff as Myles started to laugh uproariously.

“Is there a reason one of the baar’ur haven’t offered their newest patient mid-meal?” Jaster asked, tone semi-serious. After reading of the neglect of basic needs in his own outfit he wanted to be certain that Ben wasn’t being mistreated for being a former jetii.

Jango snorted. “Oh they offered, but Ben refuses to eat anything. Says he won’t eat until he is ‘freed from captivity.’ I’m starting to think he really hates the medbay.”

Jaster put another bullet point into his mental list of things he now knew about Ben before standing from his seat. “I think Myles and I both need a break from looking over old reports. Instead I want you both to look over our supplies for any tampering. Make sure you check our orders and the manifests as well, if anything is missing I want to know about it immediately.” He ordered.

He didn’t want Jango to see just how much damage Montross had caused. Jango was a warrior, that was true, and he was of age to go on proper missions. But he was still only a young teen and didn’t need to face such things quite yet. It was Jaster’s failing, so it was Jaster’s duty to put it right.

“Yes, Alor.” Myles and Jango said at the same time, thumping their chests with their fists.

“I guess I’ll… be visiting the kitchen then the medbay.” He said, cheeks flushing slightly when Jango and Myles bumped bracers in triumph.

He pretended to not have seen them as he left the office, he had to preserve some of his dignity after all.

Once he had two servings of the days mid-meal, meat skewers and grilled vegetables, he headed for the medbay and waited outside for permission to enter.

When he wasn’t working in his capacity as Mand’alor he was subject to all the same rules as any other mando’ad. Which included not barging into the medbay without permission.

Br. Verill took one look at him and his two plates before letting out a sigh. “If you can get him to eat I’ll give you blanket permission to come and go. He’s more stubborn than a gundark.”

Jaster bit his tongue so he didn’t laugh or make a comment. It was always a bad idea to anger a medical professional. They knew all the ways to put you together, certainly, but that also meant they knew how to take you apart.

Heading for the corner of the medbay where Ben was staying he smiled when the man noticed his presence.

“Jaster, what are you doing here?” He looked honestly puzzled, it was adorable.

He held up the two plates with a smile. “My ad forced me to take a break. Then I heard you were in need of a bit of rescuing. Sadly I can’t bust you out, the baar’ure would stage a revolt, but I was able to bring you something more exciting than the usual medbay fare.” He explained as he pulled a seat over to Ben’s bed before stopping, hesitant. “I’d hoped we might eat together and have a little chat, but if you’d rather I left you alone…”

The man’s eyes widened and he sat up further. “Oh, no, please. I could use the company.” He said with a shy smile.

“Oh, good. Thank you.” Sitting in the chair he held out the other plate for Ben. When the man didn’t immediately take it he raised a single brow at him and nodded at the food in reprimand.

Ben let out a sigh that was very close to being overly dramatic, if he had been an ounce less graceful about it, before he took the plate of food for himself.

Jaster nodded, pleased, and dug into his own plate. “So. Where did you learn to use a beskad? Or is it just an extension of your training with a jetii’kad? If you don’t mind me asking.” It had actually been in the back of his mind since that morning’s duel.

Ben’s smile was a little crooked as he pushed the grilled vegetables around on his plate, pretending to eat. “Most of the moves were adapted from my own training with a jetii’kad. But there were also ancient texts in the jeti’yaim’s archives that detailed some accounts of how mando’ade fought. It took a long time but eventually I was able to scrounge up enough information to rebuild some of the ancient art myself. The head of all martial training was also quite interested in my project and aided me in making a proper set of training katas.” The man smiled. “It will be nice to actually see proper modern forms in use and practice them myself.”

Jaster’s mouth opened and closed for a moment, unable to articulate what he wanted to say. The joy and curiosity on Ben’s face was captivating. It was clear he liked learning for learning’s sake and wasn’t afraid of hard work. “Well… if you’re going to be training Jango I think perhaps I should join you both.” He said finally.

“Oh?” Ben looked up and blinked at him, head cocked slightly to the side as he patiently waited for an explanation.

“I want to be able to spar with my ad. I don’t get a lot of time to devote to him alone.” He admitted. “But learning a new skill together would give us time to bond more.”

“Then I will be more than happy to teach and learn with you both.” Ben said, voice and expression soft. “Perhaps in exchange you might teach me more hand-to-hand?”

Jaster cleared his voice and had to look away for a moment, face flushed at the idea of being in such close quarters with Ben. “First thing’s first, you need to get back on your feet. You can’t teach if you aren’t fighting fit.” He motioned toward the food that Ben had yet to eat.

The redhead let out a frustrated huff. “I’m afraid I don’t have much of an appetite at the moment.”

Jaster leaned back in the chair, looking down at his own plate in thought. “Is it the food? I can see if the verde on kitchen duty will make you something easier to eat instead. Maybe with less spices.” He offered.

“No, the food is fine, and I do like spices. It’s just…” The man glanced around the room before sagging slightly. “I’m not particularly fond of medical bays.” He admitted. “The smells and sounds…” There was a far off look of grief in the man’s eyes that Jaster recognized immediately.

Shab. How much death had the man seen in his years as a jetii? How many people had he lost?

“If… you swear to stay in your quarters and actually convalesce, I may be able to convince Br. Verill to release you. Myles would have to agree, as your aliit, but I think we could have you moved to your own quarters.”

The man brightened considerably but before he could agree Jaster held up a hand to stall him. “But you will obey whatever Br. Verill tells you, without question or complaint. On your honor.”

Ben frowned in what Jaster was trying not to think of as an adorable pout. “Alright, Jaster, I swear.”

“Good. Why don’t you try to eat that and prove you can be a good patient while I speak with Br. Verill?” The scathing look Ben gave him made Jaster chuckle as he set his own plate on the man’s bed and got up.

Thankfully it didn’t take too much to convince the ornery chagrian to release Ben to his vod. “He’s a menace. As long as he stays in bed I don’t care where he’s resting. But if I find out he was walking around on that foot again I will sedate him unconscious.”

Returning to Ben he was surprised to find he’d cleaned his plate and smiled in relief. “Br. Verill is going to comm Myles to release you from the medbay. But he doesn’t want you walking on that foot so… I offered to walk you back to your quarters. I doubt you’d appreciate having to be carted there on a gurney.” He said with a nervous chuckle.

“Force, no, I prefer to get places under my own power.” He stated with some exasperation. “Your help is appreciated, Jaster.”

Jaster shook his head. “I’d do the same for any one of my verd that needed support.” Although some he would help more readily than others, for obvious reasons.

As the medic commed Myles, Jaster quickly finished his own mid-meal and set the dishes on a nearby tray with the others.

“Alright, Vhehn, your vod has agreed to have you released from the medbay. But you’re going to be confined to bed for the next eighteen hours.”

“…earlier you said sixteen and I’ve already been here for three hours.” Ben said, brows furrowed.

“That was before you decided to be extra difficult.” The chagrian medic huffed. “Now don’t interrupt. I want you off your feet and resting, preferably laying down but sitting will do. Just be careful of those ribs. You will eat whatever is put in front of you unless there is a very good reason you cannot, and you will take these meds every three hours, unless you’re asleep in which case you will take them the moment you wake up. Understand?”

“Yes, Baar’ur.” Ben said quietly, chin ducked slightly in a manner that made him look almost contrite.

“Good.” The male turned toward him. “I release him to you then, Alor. Good luck.” He said before he turned on his heel and stalked off.

Ben spluttered slightly and Jaster let out a bark of laughter. “Come on, then. Let’s get you back to your quarters.” He held out his arm in offering.

Ben’s cheeks reddened slightly as Jaster helped him onto his good foot, sliding one arm around his back and holding him close so he could take the slighter man’s weight. They were so close, in fact, that Jaster could feel the soft wisps of the man’s hair against his cheek.

Oh… the trip back to his quarters was going to be a long one, wasn’t it?