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Mandalorians were supposed to hate Jedi. Everyone he knew did, at least. His friends - well, Torian had never really had friends before he joined Lok's crew. But the others his age, people like Jogo, they talked about the Mandalorian Wars like it was a personal offense that they hadn't been born yet to take up arms against such an enemy. But it wasn't much different from the way they talked about him, someone who was arue'tal. Traitor's blood. Maybe that's why he didn't have the same fierce resentment for their ancient enemy. Or maybe Torian just didn't understand it like they did. Either way, he always tried to keep his mouth shut when someone brought up their glory days.
Of course, he had never met a Jedi, at least not outside of the battlefield. Not until Darvannis. By that point, by the time that the so-called Eternal Empire had taken the galaxy, even the worst parts of Torian's younger years on Geonosis had a waxy coat of nostalgia when he looked back on them. Jogo Bralor and dozens of others died fighting the Republic, then fighting Zakuul, and even Mandalore's foundling - the first person who had called him a brother in battle - had been missing for long enough that he had given up hope. Eventually he realised that his time as the bounty hunter's partner was over - but there were more battles awaiting him in the galaxy, and he had followed their path to the new Mandalore's war camp.
***
Torian had picked up the habit of counting days when he was still waiting for Lok to return from the final job. So he could say with some confidence that the first 33 days he spent on Darvannis were all more or less the same. On the 34th, something changes: Khomo Fett tells him that Mandalore has agreed to meet with someone who leads an alliance of some kind - and within hours, the clan leaders are being called together.
There is only one person in the tent who isn't in beskar armor, a woman standing across the table from Shae Vizla - she must have slipped in with the supply shuttles. Torian only halfway listens as Mandalore introduces him, focusing on sizing up this newcomer. A pale and skinny girl. Dark blond hair, dark metal cybernetics, dark leatheris clothes. Big green eyes with a cold intelligence behind them. Is that look what's unsettling the other Mandalorians? The clan leaders have an undercurrent of defensiveness that seems out of place. He can see a caged-animal quality in the way they pace and watch this woman that Mandalore calls a commander. Unphased, she stands almost eerily still as she and Vizla lay out their plans.
The commander's voice is quiet, but she speaks with an authority that rings like a blaster bolt. "And you're sure that your people are willing to fight alongside a Jedi?" So that's why they're so wary of her.
Mandalore laughs gruffly. "We'd fight alongside the kriffing Hutts if it would let us take the fight to the Eternal Empire." And somehow, Torian thinks she isn't wrong.
***
He had never seen someone fight like this Jedi does. Every clan fights differently, and he can almost - almost - pretend that she's from another clan in the convocation. But even if Torian was able to ignore the orange blades of her staff, there's... something, about the way her movements flow. Like she starts a new strike before the last can even finish. It was that sort of fighting that stopped the Neo-Crusaders. Had to be.
But even more than that, it seems to fit her, the commander - well, the Commander, really. The Jedi looks to be a hundred pounds of lean muscle, and all of it in constant motion, lunging and spinning and leaping. It's all very natural on her, just like the copper-orange radiance of sparks and burning metal and her blade. But for all her destructive skill, there is no anger in her at all. Like an akk wolf. The Commander is an apex predator, driven not by any hatred, but the knowledge of what needs to be done.
Torian suddenly realizes that he's staring. He's silently grateful for the fact that none of the Mando'ade were there to see it, just Skytrooper droids and the sands of Darvannis. And if the Jedi herself notices his eyes on her for much longer than they need to be, she gives no indication.
***
He knows he's lucky to be the one Mandalore chose to represent her on Odessen. The Jedi - Vika, he thinks, her name is Vika - and her Alliance are something he wouldn't have believed without seeing it himself. Sith and Jedi, soldiers from the Empire and from the Republic, smugglers and scientists, even the occasional Zakuulan - and now even the Mandalorians had joined her. All of them working together, side by side, to fight against the same enemy. Torian is proud to stand with her, even if he doesn't know how to tell her that.
In some ways she reminds him of Mako, the little slicer he ran with in Lok's crew. Maybe it was the cleverness, or the cybernetics, or the way she was the beating heart of their operation. She must be about the same age, and there's something similar in the way that she watches everything going on around her with a calculating, curious perspective. But where Mako always seemed restless and ready to run off and get into trouble, Vika always has the same serenity that Torian had felt when he watched her in battle.
But they have a war to fight. He tries not to think about Mako, and her hair that was as soft and dark as the void between stars, and how he had been able to pick her up and carry her in his arms, and how he had to leave her behind when Mandalore called the clans together. He can't let himself think about her thin fingers and thin fingernails as she held his hand, and he certainly can't let himself imagine holding the Commander's cybernetic hand instead, with its smooth metal and long, spidery digits.
At most, he allows himself to watch her from a distance. To see the way her body moves, the grace of her strikes. Some of the Force-sensitives are lucky enough to learn to fight with a staff like she does, to learn the steps of the dance of destruction he saw her perform on Darvannis. On nights when the training grounds are empty, he tries to replicate what he saw. Sometimes it seems close to the real thing. Other times, it feels like there's a piece missing. Like if Vika stepped into the circle with him, it would all fall into place. But he doesn't have words for the feeling of incompleteness in his chest. So he keeps practicing.
***
After several mostly-sleepless nights, he thinks he might be getting close enough. This style of fighting is vastly different from how he was taught to use a vibrostaff - some habits are a beast to unlearn. But it's like he can almost feel something inside him starting to wake up; he feels more alive when he fights, more alert. Instead of directing himself from one target to the next, it's like he's aware of everything around him. Each movement feeds on the last one. Torian imagines himself hunting Skytroopers, and he can almost hear the clank and scrape of the metal on metal, smell the oil and grease of the machine. It's a strange sensation, but one he likes. He loses himself in the sparring, until suddenly a voice snaps him out of it.
"I'm impressed," the Commander says, as quietly as ever.
Startled, he drops the staff to the floor with a resounding crash. How long had she been standing there? If she had been an enemy, he thinks, he could have been dead before even realizing anything was wrong. It's not like him to be so careless.
"Sorry," he says quickly. "You caught me off guard."
"It normally takes more than a few months of practice to learn these kata, you know. You have good instincts." She sounds amused rather than angry as she moves closer, which makes Torian relax somewhat. "When I first found myself with the Jedi, I spent years watching Master Liv'trai practice." She pauses, looking at the staff on the ground beside him. "Not quite the same thing, obviously. You have much more experience now than I did then."
Torian nods slowly, feeling embarrassed. "Right… sorry." He pushes away the urge to apologise again.
Vika steps even closer, like she's sharing secrets with him. Her voice is low, and he can barely make out the words. "The saber form I use is particularly difficult for anyone who isn't Force-sensitive. It's specialized for situations where an enemy has you surrounded. Maintaining your focus on several targets at once is not something that just anyone can do."
What? What does she mean by that?
Slowly, she retrieves the weapon from the sandy floor of the training grounds, placing it back in his hands. "Let me show you." She places her hands on his shoulders, and leads him through each step in her lightsaber dance.
It's the first time she's ever touched him. He doesn't understand what's happening. The only contact is her metal palms on his metal armor, and somehow he feels human warmth against his skin. Something clicks in his head, and almost involuntarily, he remembers the day years ago when he tried to teach Mako how to use a blaster rifle. He remembers how much he was sweating under his armor when he guided her hands, and how his heart pounded hard enough in his chest to make him dizzy.
The Jedi smiles encouragingly as they reach the end of the sequence. "Well done."
Torian blinks, feeling like he's been hit by a stun grenade. "What?"
Vika laughs, and it's like the sound of wind in the grass. "I said well done, Torian."
He stares at her for a moment, unable to process what just happened. Stars, he hopes his face isn't as red as it feels. Torian swallows hard. "Thank you," he says weakly. He isn't used to compliments, especially not from her.
"You're welcome." She steps back, and takes a few paces away from him. "Now, you should get some sleep. If you need anything, don't hesitate to ask."
***
The Commander is a strong woman, but she can really be too kind for her own good. Too trusting. He can't believe after everything that happened, she would trust even Arcann. The man the entire Alliance was built to fight. The former Emperor had kneeled in front of her, swore his loyalty in front of the whole galaxy. It had been amazing to see, of course, but it also made Torian wonder if it wasn't all part of some elaborate trap. He wonders what she sees in him, what she finds worth saving.
He wishes she wouldn't look at Arcann with such kindness.
The least he can do, for her sake, is to keep a close eye on the former tyrant. If he really meant to harm Vika, he wants to be the first to know. So he keeps his guard up, monitoring Arcann closely. There are times when he catches the other man eyeing the Jedi, and he gets nervous every single time. But so far? Nothing has happened. No signs of treachery, no attempts to kill Vika while she sleeps.
Maybe he really means it. Her confidence is infectious, and it's clear that she believes in the cause. The Jedi is a beacon of hope. But he doesn't want her to think any worse of him for trying to keep her safe. He won't let anything happen to her... but maybe he can leave Arcann be for now.
***
Battle rages around him. Skytroopers, Zakuulan soldiers, even Knights - they swarm Odessen. They've come in overwhelming force, but he can see the pattern in the way they move. Like a flock of birds in formation. The battle lines have shifted, and the Alliance forces are falling back in an attempt to protect their base. This is what he lives for. His brothers and sisters are dying, but he will not stop until every Zakuulan has fallen. He hears explosions and screams and shouts, and his vision goes white with rage. He fights harder than ever, swinging his vibrostaff with both hands, pushing his enemies back. He won't give them another inch.
Somewhere, his Commander is bringing Vaylin's forces to their knees. But here, he's so focused on the enemy that he doesn't notice the change until it's already too late. More Skytroopers are landing around him, cutting off his exits. A Knight of Zakuul jumps at him from the side, but his lightsaber narrowly misses his shoulder. He throws himself to one side, and the Knight overshoots his lunge, hitting the ground with a thud. Then there are three more Knights closing in on him - he ducks behind a downed transport. He needs backup soon, or this will be his last stand. Desperate, he fumbles with the holocommunicator - only Vika could fight off so many foes at once. But the Commander doesn't respond.
A blast of energy shoots through the wall behind him, and it cracks with an audible snapping sound. Torian dives back out from cover to find Skytroopers surrounding him. He knows how this will end. With a deep breath, he rushes to smash them down, but more keep taking their place. He makes a run for the space where one of them has fallen, ignoring how futile the attempt is. One of the Knights grabs his arm and pulls him backwards. He slams into the side of the transport hard enough to knock the wind from him - the Knight pins him, and he can taste blood in his mouth.
The Skytroopers stop firing at him, but they don't lower their rifles. His mind races as he tries to understand why they haven't killed him already, when he sees someone approaching him. Vaylin.
The Empress steps forward slowly, while his comm crackles to life from where it's fallen on the ground. "Torian! It's the Commander's familiar voice, but there's something wrong in her tone. "Stay where you are. I'm on my way!"
As he struggles, Vaylin picks up the comm to mock her. "Wrong again, Outlander." Her voice is cold, deadly. "I found your Mandalorian pet."
The Knight lets go of him, but he still can't move - Vaylin has him pinned there with the Force. He can feel the pressure around his ribs, the heat radiating through the metal. She could rip him apart before he can do anything.
Vika's voice has more hostility in it than he's ever heard her speak with. "What do you want?"
The Empress laughs, and it's like a blade against his skin. "I want to end this, of course."
Torian fights against the invisible power holding him in place, his limbs aching as the grip around his chest tightens further. When he looks at Vaylin, her eyes look empty. Dead. She smiles cruelly, like his struggles are just as meaningless as a worm thrashing on hot pavement.
"Just tell me where," the Jedi says. "But let Torian go. This is between us."
Vaylin shakes her head slowly, as if she finds the thought amusing. "Oh, that isn't how this works." She releases him suddenly; Torian falls back against the floor and has only enough time to take a shallow breath before the Skytroopers are pointing their guns at him again. Swallowing his pride, he drops his staff and puts his hands behind his head. Normally, Torian wasn't one to put his trust in the Force, but he had a sinking feeling that Vika would need all the help she could get.
The Empress turns to the Skytroopers, and her expression is vicious. "Follow me."
***
Above Odessen, ships burn and die like fireworks. The sky is filled with explosions and streaks of light. It could be beautiful, if you didn't know what it really was. When the Commander steps out from the lift, the red and blue glow catches her in such a way that she doesn't even seem real. The Force that surrounds her is so strong that even Torian can feel its pull, and he wonders what kind of willpower it takes to control it all.
"Finally!" Vaylin says blithely. "I was getting bored." Her smile is bright, and the light reflects on her pale skin like it's molten gold. "And when I get bored, prisoners start losing limbs."
Vika watches Vaylin carefully as she approaches, not even bothering to hide her quiet fury with Vaylin's presence.
"It doesn't matter what happens to me!" Torian cries out. "You have to take her down!" He nods at Vaylin, struggling to stay kneeling where he is.
"Vaylin," the Jedi starts, the very picture of calm, "this isn't necessary. Release him." For the very first time, Torian can see fear in her eyes.
For her part, Vaylin seemed completely incredulous. "You actually care for the life of this... this crawling worm?" She gestures contemptuously at him with her hand. "How pathetic."
A Force blast throws him forward. He hits the ground hard enough to knock the wind from his lungs, and he falls onto his side. Time seems to stretch out into meaninglessness. Another flash of red illuminates the sky; there's smoke in his nose, and blood trickling down his mouth from a cut on his lip. Torian knows what's going to happen to him, he has for some time now. He can feel it in his bones, and yet it feels so distant. Like it's happening to someone else.
An end like this is something most Mandalorians would do anything to achieve. Dying at the hands of a conquering empress. Dying in the defense of the woman he loves. It would be a death in glory, a story told for generations. He should be satisfied with that. All he wants instead is the chance to say goodbye.
Vaylin reaches out her hand, and Torian immediately feels his neck constrict painfully. His gaze falls on Vika one more time. She looks like she might cry with rage. Then there's a horrible cracking noise, and the world goes black.