Chapter Text
The Mandalore mission was a far cry from what Obi-Wan had been expecting. Not that he ever expected a nice easy mission, not with Master Qui-Gon’s habit of taking the most potentially dangerous missions the council had to offer. They also always seemed to hit it just right to have it go wrong.
The most dangerous part of this mission was supposed to be the fact that it was on Mandalore. The very heart of a community of people who historically hate the Jedi, and, after Galidaan, had renewed that hate. Beyond that, they were supposed to just keep watch over Duke Kryze and his family while he worked to strengthen Sundari’s defenses against the terrorist group Death Watch.
That hadn’t been what happened.
Instead the Duke had been assassinated, and in order to keep his oldest daughter protected, Master Qui-Gon had sent her and Obi-Wan on the run while he took care of things. From then on, Obi-Wan’s only mission was to keep her alive.
At first, Obi-Wan had liked Satine Kryze. She was pretty and spoke passionately about her beliefs. But the longer he spent on the run with her, the more she grated on his nerves. She complained about not getting to bathe regularly, about the lack of a proper bed, about the lack of proper meals, and the lack of the high class life she was used to living. She protested his methods of keeping her safe whenever Death Watch caught up to them. Even deflecting blaster bolts back at their attackers was too barbaric for her. She sneered when he took beskar’gam from a fallen Death Watch member to use as a disguise because his Jedi robes weren’t doing them any favors. She, herself, refused to wear any armor. And even when he was able to strip the armor and repaint it in his own colors so that he wasn’t walking around looking like he was a terrorist, she criticized his choices. Apparently justice black, reliable blue, and different shades of green for duty, protecting, and a lust for peace was still too violent for her. She even scowled when he spoke Mando’a automatically when they weren’t alone and between populated areas.
He was beginning to think that her vision of a peaceful Mandalore included some level of cultural genocide with how she reacted to anything Mandalorian. He was sure placing her in charge of the new government, like what Master Qui-Gon intended to do, was a mistake. But it wasn’t his place to decide such things.
They hurried across the dead land of Mandalore, dry dirt kicking up around them in the wind making Obi-Wan thankful for his helmet’s filters. Satine, however, was complaining that the scarf she had wrapped around her head and in front of her face wasn’t enough to protect her from it all, and he had to bite his tongue in order to not snap that she should have accepted the beskar’gam when she had the chance. Getting into another argument wasn’t worth the energy when they needed to find shelter before the sun set.
“We should have stayed one more night in town.” Satine huffed as she stumbled, the loose, dry dirt sliding under her weight.
“Sure, and wake up surrounded by Death Watch again.” Obi-Wan huffed, “Your safety is more important than your comfort right now.”
“There’s nothing out here! No shelter for us to sleep in tonight! We’ll be sitting pelikki!”
“Waiting one more night in town wouldn’t have changed that.” Obi-Wan pointed out, “And you’ll never know what we’ll find out here.”
“I don’t care if you can calm wild animals, I don’t want to share a wild strill den again.”
“Those strills were adorable and very friendly.”
“And I’m pretty sure that one cave you found was actually a fossilized skull.”
“Mmm,” he agreed, “Mythosaur. It was very faint, but I could still feel its presence lingering.”
“Great, a haunted skull! Creepiest place to spend a night.”
“It was a safe place to spend the night. We were protected from the elements and out of sight from any Death Watch scouts.”
“It was creepy and barbaric!”
Obi-Wan sighed, “It’s in the past. We don’t know what tonight will bring.”
She huffed, crossing her arms, one hand tugging her scarf a bit tighter around herself.
They continued on in silence for another half hour, watching their shadows elongate as the sun dropped lower in the sky. The Jedi kept his senses reaching out in the Force, looking for some sort of shelter or at least some sort of crevice or wall they could tuck into. He finally caught the sense of something a little further ahead and deep underground.
He quickened his pace, much to his companion’s annoyance, and focused his senses on the area. There was an entrance, buried, unseen and long forgotten. He stopped right before it and took hold of the Force, using it to dig down, clearing the dirt and sand away until he uncovered a stone door. It had at one point had something carved into it, a symbol or words, or something, but time had worn it away past the point of any hope of recognition.
“What’s this?” Satine asked.
“Shelter.” Obi-Wan said, using the Force to open the heavy door. He took out his lightsaber and flicked it on before stepping forward into the long forgotten structure. Satine followed with a frown, and he spared a moment to close the door behind them, letting his lightsaber be their only source of light.
“What is this place?” Satine asked again as they looked around the space painted in blue light.
“A temple.” Obi-Wan said. He recognized as much. They had not entered in through the main doors, but he didn’t need a grand entry hall to know as much. He’d grown up in a temple, after all. He’d snuck away and explored it. And the energy in this one felt familiar. It felt light and it embraced him. If it wasn’t outright Jedi, it at least was built by some followers of the light. But it was also entirely Mandalorian. The architecture matched what he’d seen of the oldest parts of Keldabe when they had briefly traveled through the historic capital.
“A temple for what?”
“Nothing bad.” Obi-Wan responded truthfully. “It was built by and used by Force users, and Force temples are built in locations where the Force is naturally potent. The Force takes on the sense of what is done in that space over time, and whatever was done here was light. It feels similar to some of the old Jedi temples Master Qui-Gon has taken me to.”
“Okay…so it’s…safe?”
“From a certain point of view.” he confirmed with a nod.
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“It’s safe compared to say, an old Sith temple. However, it is still ancient ruins, so there remains the same dangers as any other old ruins. Come on.” he said, starting to walk deeper into the old temple.
“Why can’t we just stay here where we know where the door is to get back out?”
“On the off chance that Death Watch finds the door, we don’t want to be right on the other side waiting to be shot. If we’re deeper in, there’s the chance that they get lost looking for us.”
“But we could get lost!”
“The Force can guide me back to this door or to any other way out there may be.”
“If you’re sure.”
“I am. Satine—I know you and I haven't gotten along well since being on the run, but it’s my duty to keep you safe. I wouldn’t take you anywhere I thought for a second was unsafe.”
She relaxed and finally nodded, “Alright.”
They moved further into the temple, Obi-Wan leading the way by following the Force. They came to a hall lined with rooms that had clearly housed those who had once lived there. The beds, for the most part, had given out long ago, but there were two or three that were still standing and seemed strong enough to take their weight.
“Look at that, you can still sleep in a proper bed tonight.”
“Yeah, yeah.” she muttered, taking claim of the sturdiest looking bed.
“I’ll be down the hall in the other good bed, I suppose, you need anything?”
“No.” she said, pulling out a glowrod and flipping it on so that she’d have her own light, “I’ll be fine.”
Obi-Wan nodded and moved to the room that was his for the night, finally dropping the heavy pack from his back and digging out a rations bar to eat before laying his bed roll out on top of the old bed.
He would have liked to slip out of his armor for once, but decided against it, just in case they had to leave in a hurry. Restocking the supplies in his pack was much easier than getting a new full set of armor. So he slipped into bed with only his helmet off and closed his eyes.
His dreams that night weren’t pleasant. It was as if his subconscious had wanted to run over the top hits of his worst memories. Being abandoned on Melida/Daan, being a mining slave, the countless times he’d done nothing but disappoint his master, being bullied as a youngling, he even saw glimpses of being thrown into the river as a baby. That nightmare in particular was new as he didn’t really remember it so much as knew it had been how he’d been found and brought to the Jedi.
He woke up coughing and sputtering as the feeling of cold water and drowning stung his lungs, lingering even after the dark room he was in replaced the swirl of water pressing against his eyes.
He turned over the edge of the bed and let out a few more desperate coughs, only to feel a rush of wetness sputter past his lips, the sound of water hitting and splashing against the stone floor.
“What in the Force…” he gasped once the water had been expelled from his lungs, leaving him with only a fading burn as air soothed it away.
A sense of comfort washed over him in the Force, and he relaxed, letting himself just breathe a moment, and then he felt a tug. He blinked a few times, turning his attention fully to the Force around him. It tugged again, and he hesitated.
The Force here was strange. Or, it at least did strange things. He had never heard of the Force manifesting physical aspects of a memory like how his lungs had suddenly filled with water from so very long ago. He was taught to listen to the Force, to follow it’s guidance, but nearly drowning in the middle of a dessert had shaken him. He didn’t know if he wanted to see what was in store for him next.
A sense of amused frustration passed over him before his lightsaber suddenly unclipped from his belt and lifted into the air. Obi-Wan blinked at it before reaching out to grab it, only to have it be yanked away and out of the room.
Obi-Wan was on his feet instantly, rushing after it in the dark. Locking onto the familiar presence of his kyber to know where it was being taken.
He turned a final corner and slid to a stop. The room he’d entered was filled with a soft white light emanating from a pillar of that same light in the center of the room. His lightsaber was there, in the hands of a transparent being in ancient designed beskar’gam. His lightsaber was lit, and the being’s helmeted head tilted, as if they were listening to the kyber’s song. Then they looked at Obi-Wan, and though he was unable to hear it, he got the sense that they had spoken to him. Told him to keep still. And then the being stepped into the light which flared. Obi-Wan brought up his arm to shield his eyes until the light in the room settled. Lowering his arm, his eyes widened. The temple around him no longer looked as if it were in ruin. Torches were lit along the walls, the stone walls were decorated in mosaics, vibrant paintings, and tapestries. The artwork screamed Mandalorian, but there were touches that were distinctly Jedi in origin. And in the middle of the room, the pillar of light had vanished, leaving just the being in armor, now quite solid. They deactivated Obi-Wan’s lightsaber and approached, holding it out to him.
“Jetii’ad.”
Obi-Wan reached out for his lightsaber as the Force whispered a name in his ear that made him shiver. “Mand’alor Vizsla.” he nodded, closing his fingers around his lightsaber.
Tarre Vizsla. An ancient Mandalorian leader—an ancient Jedi. He must have built the temple in hopes of starting a Mandalorian sect of Jedi; marrying their two cultures in a way that allowed for Mandalore's independence from the Republic after the Jedi began to become so closely entwined and started losing the ability to properly offer aid to planets beyond republic borders. He wondered what had happened to the Jedi of Mandalore, as it was clear Tarre had succeeded in building the foundation for such a thing. The lightness of the temple after so many centuries was proof of that.
“Elek.” Tarre confirmed, letting Obi-Wan take back his lightsaber from his clawed hand, “ He/him. You are from the Coruscant temple.” he continued, switching to Basic, though the words seemed clunky in his mouth. Like he very rarely spoke it and preferred not to. The words also held hint of an old dialect, which wasn’t surprising, considering.
“The temple on Coruscant is the only temple in use. It’s the home to all Jedi apart from a few outposts used mainly by members of the service corps’.”
Despite the beskar dampening Tarre’s presence in the Force, Obi-Wan could feel his sense of alarm and mourning. “It seems the Order has only withered under the thumb of the Republic Senate.”
“Probably shouldn’t let the Council hear you say that. They think things are as they should be.” Obi-Wan shrugged. Really, he couldn’t disagree. The Jedi had once stretched all across the known galaxy. Now they were collected into a single temple, working under the restrictions of the senate. There had been a time when Obi-Wan would have defended the way the Order worked with the senate, but truthfully, his time on Milida/Daan had shaken the blinders off his view of the order, just as it had shaken his security in knowing his place amongst them. But he stayed and strove to be the best Jedi he could be as it was still his dream to become a knight.
“But you know better.”
“I’ve seen their limits when they should still be able to act.”
“I know, the Force has shown me, ad’ika.”
“I never knew there had been a temple on Mandalore.” Obi-Wan said.
“The Republic saw fit to carve us out of the equation when they realized we were not tied by the same leash as the rest of the Jedi Order.”
“The Dral'han.” Obi-Wan realized, “At least part of it was to target the temple here.”
Tarre nodded, “I foresaw it coming and knew it could not be stopped, so I took measures to hopefully rebuild. I bound myself to the temple and waited, trusting the Force to awaken me when Manda’yaim needed me the most. The Force led you to the temple to awaken me.”
“I see.” The Force didn’t contest the claim, so he supposed that the Force had intended just that. Though why the Force had chosen him and not Qui-Gon…
Tarre tilted his head, “You doubt your place as a Jetti even now. You shouldn’t.”
“My Master—”
“Never deserved you.” Tarre said firmly, “He’s hurt you, rejected you, abandoned you, actively expects you to reject your natural strengths in the Force. Ner’ad, you deserve much more, and the Force provides.”
“What?”
“I needed a Jedi who was truly is Mandokarla to pull my physical being back into the living realm, you needed a Jetii’cabur who would help you grow. The Force brought us together. It means for me to take over your training.”
“But that’s not how—I’m Master Qui-Gon’s padawan.”
“Modern Jetiise have lost their way if they sit back and allow such an ill fitted pairing to harm the ad’s development. The Force had always brought Jetii’cabur and Jetii’ade together, ensuring that the ad would flourish in their learning. Sometimes the Force would lead the ad to a new Jetii’cabur if the match no longer fit well. There is no shame in it, ner’ad, at least for you.”
“You want to teach me…to be a Mandalorian Jedi?”
“Your name, ad?”
“Uh, Obi-Wan Kenobi, sir. He/him.”
Tarre reached up and removed his helmet, revealing himself to be Taung in doing so. It wasn't exactly a surprise. Obi-Wan had known by the man’s claws that he wasn’t the human that historians assumed he had been, but still, Taungs—true Taungs as their genes had mixed with humans so completely that they had created a nearhuman line that only claimed Taung ancestry rather than claiming they were Taung themselves—had been extinct for so long. It was startling to see one in person.
“Ni kyr'tayl gai sa'ad.” he spoke, the words vibrating with the Force as they wrapped around him like a warm hug.
Obi-Wan sucked in a breath, “Did you just—adopt me?”
“Elek.”
“But we’re Jedi, you can’t—it—doesn’t that create attachment?”
Tarre lifted a brow, “I have a feeling I’m not going to like what the Jedi have done to themselves. Are lineage families no longer families?”
“Well, sure, from a certain point of view it’s comparable to a family line made of adoption, but…” he shook his head, “Attachment leads to the dark side. We do not maintain close relationships with family, even our lineage.”
“Cowards. They just don’t want to put in the work.” Tarre said, releasing anger into the Force, “Jedi had been allowed family. Allowed marriage and ade. Attachment. So long as one remembers their duty to the galaxy, attachment isn’t a problem. Sith are the ones who lack what it takes. They don’t know how to love, only to possess. It seems the Coruscanti Jedi have blurred that line past the point of knowing there was one to begin with. I won’t bend to their new ways, and I’ll be training you properly. Raising you properly.”
“Old Jedi adopted their padawans?”
“Not so directly as I have you. But as I will be teaching you as I had the Jet’mando’ade here in this temple. I mixed my Jetiise teachings with Mandalorian values. Here it became common for the Jetii’cabur to adopt their Jetii’ad if the ad did not already have a buir.”
“Master Qui-Gon isn’t going to be happy with this.”
“He’s not your master, Ob’ika. Allow me to handle him when the time comes.” Tarre said, gently cupping Obi-Wan’s face and resting their foreheads together.
Obi-Wan sighed and closed his eyes, listening to the Force as it sang with rightness. It was happy with what had happened. It approved. And, well, Obi-Wan had always seen Qui-Gon Jinn as his only hope to become a Jedi knight, and Master Yoda had been the only one who had wanted them to be paired. Qui-Gon hadn’t actually wanted him, he’d begrudgingly just accepted him. While Obi-Wan had hoped that that would change and his master would grow to want him—the way he was always brushed off, left behind, sent away…it all spoke loudly that he was still unwanted, whether Qui-Gon realized it or not.
He sucked in a breath and nodded, “Do I call you Master Tarre?”
Affection filled the Force as Tarre answered, “I’d prefer it if you called me Buir.”
“Buir.”
“Jate, ner’ad.” Tarre smiled before pulling back, “Come, we must take the time to meditate together and forge our bond.”
Obi-Wan nodded and settled down next to his—his buir, easing himself into meditation before reaching out towards Tarre’s Force presence so that they could build their bond.
Their bond formed between them surprisingly easy. Strong and bright bridging their minds in the Force. In only an hour it dwarfed the bond that had taken years to strengthen with Qui-Gon. It amazed Obi-Wan what a difference it made when the Master put forth more than the bare minimum required to forge a bond. Obi-Wan had been the only one maintaining it, so his side was stronger than Qui-Gon’s.
You needn't keep it. Tarre spoke through their bond before appearing in Obi-Wan’s mindscape alongside him, “I can help you dissolve it if you wish. It’d save you from the backlash of it snapping should your dar’cabur react rashly.”
Obi-Wan sighed, “I was only ever the one trying to strengthen it. I wonder if he’d even notice it gone.”
Tarre gave him a sad but fond look before nodding. “You must take the lead, I’ll ease your way so that it does no damage should the bond fight back.”
Obi-Wan doubted it would, but he said nothing as he turned his attention to the bond he had once fought so hard to construct.
“You’re probably exhausted.” Tarre said once they slipped out of meditation, One old bond gone, replaced by a much stronger one that radiated affection even when it was closed off and resting.
“Yeah.” he agreed truthfully. Mental work in the Force was still work, it was the middle of the night—maybe even later—and he’d been on the run for weeks. Sleep wasn’t something he got to enjoy much of.
Tarre nodded, “Let's get you in bed. I’ll keep watch over you and your companion.”
“Thankyou, buir.” he said, getting to his feet.
“May I take this while you slumber, Ob’ika?” Tarre asked, tapping Obi-Wan’s pauldron, “You’re in need of your clan aliik.”
Obi-Wan hesitated, the Vizsla clan aliik had been turned into the aliik for all of Death Watch. He didn’t know what to feel about wearing the symbol. “The Vizsla aliik?”
“My aliik.” he responded, turning to show the aliik painted onto his own pauldron Surprisingly, it looked to be closer to the aliik used by the True Mandalorian faction. A mythosaur skull, only it also had the wings and star of the Jedi Order integrated into it.
Obi-Wan nodded and removed his pauldron, “Color?”
“If you have a preference on that, I of course will oblige. However, I think it being done in white, for now, would be fitting.”
White. New beginnings. A fresh start.
“That does seem fitting.” Obi-Wan agreed.
Walking back towards the bedrooms, Obi-Wan noticed that it hadn’t just been the one room that had been restored to its former glory. It seemed like the Temple had reverted back to the way it had been when Tarre was alive—the first time. Though he wouldn’t be surprised if the whole temple was still hidden under the dirt and sand that surrounded the area outside Tarre slipped away briefly into a supply room they passed and grabbed a jar of white paint and a brush to apply it before escorting Obi-Wan back to his chosen room.
Obi-Wan awoke to the sound of blaster fire. He rolled out of bed, grabbing for his lightsaber and igniting it before he found that the source was Satine with her stun blaster she so rarely made a grab for. It was pointed into Obi-Wan’s room at Tarre who was seated in a chair at a table, helmet hiding his expression. Over their bond, however, Obi-Wan could feel his lack of amusement. He had his Darksaber in hand as he had clearly deflected the stunbolts.
Obi-Wan hadn’t even noticed the darksaber the night before, and now he had questions, because he knew the leader of Death Watch carried the Darksaber on his belt. Was there now two? Did Tarre somehow transport it through the Force to himself when he materialized?
He shook the thought from his head and straightened up, deactivating his lightsaber and placing it back on his belt, “Well, I am surprised to find you resorting to violence first thing in the morning. Could you be rethinking your pacifist ways, Satine?” he teased.
“Don’t just stand there, Ben, you swore to protect me from Death Watch and—”
“Death Watch isn’t here, Satine. You’re safe.” he grabbed his bag and began searching through it for protein bars, “You were shooting at a Jedi.”
She looked surprise before narrowing her eyes at Tarre, “You’re not Master Jinn…”
“Far from it.” Tarre responded, getting up and carrying the pauldron over to strap onto Obi-Wan’s shoulder before giving his braid a fond tug, “What is this Death Watch your companion speaks of, Ob’ika?”
“A terrorist group. Kyr’tsad. Their leader falsely claims to be Mand’alor, yet they have no problem with kidnapping and even killing ade. Most of their members are made of of kidnapped ade who were conditioned to follow their dar’manda ways.” Obi-Wan hesitated before continuing, “They are led by Tor Vizsla.”
“It seems the Jedi have not been the only ones to have lost their way.” Tarre said surprisingly calm, “What is the rightful Mand’alor doing about this issue?”
“There is no Mand’alor.” Satine said.
“The one who has rightful claim to the title is missing.” Obi-Wan clarified, “His buir was Mand’alor the Reformer. He’d reunited many of the clans and was rebuilding a united Mandalore when he was betrayed and killed, leaving his too-young ad to take on the mantle. But before he could prove himself worthy of the title Death Watch manipulated the Jedi into attacking him and the majority of his direct supporters. It—it was a massacre. Only he survived, but just as quickly disappeared as he’d been handed over to a man that was working with Death Watch. They may have killed him, but no one knows for sure. It’s been three years. The Jedi have tried searching for him to try and right their wrong as best they could, but the senate…well.”
Tarre was angry, but the anger was released into the Force after a moment, “I see. So there is no one to contest the false Mand’alor’s claim.”
Satine straightened her shoulders, “Actually, I am. I am Satine Kryze of House Kryze, and head of the New Mandalorians. Our vision for Mandalore is one without such needless violence.”
“And what is your claim to the title?”
“Of Mand’alor? Nothing. Under my rule we’d do away with it. We have no need for a war lord. No, I’m a duchess. Mandalore will leave the old barbaric ways in the past.”
“You are just as dar’manda as Kyr’tsad.” Tarre huffed before looking at Obi-Wan, “Ob’ika?”
“My mission is to protect her from Death Watch. Mas—Qui-Gon and the Senate means to see her put in power.”
“Of course the Republic would wish to see that happen. They wish to leash Manda’yaim just as they leashed the Jetiise. I’ll not allow it to happen.”
“And who are you to make that decision?” Satine huffed angrily.
“He’s Mand’alor Tarre Vizsla.” Obi-Wan said.
“That’s impossible! Mand’alor Vizsla is a historic figure. And you said he was a Jedi.”
“Did you not know that Mand’alor Vizsla was the galaxy’s first Mandalorian Jedi? He built this temple to teach future generations of Mandalorian Jedi. Last night a lot of strange Force stuff happened even by my standards, and well,” Obi-Wan gestured to his buir, “he’s back.”
“I don’t believe it. First of all, the Vizsla clan are all humans. Those are not human hands. The statue of Tarre Vizsla depicts a human as well.”
“He’s Taung.” Obi-Wan shrugged, “You should know the history of what happened there. And the statue was created generations after his death. They had probably forgotten he didn’t look as human as those with Taung ancestry have grown to look.”
“Taung are extinct.”
“Yet here I am.” Tarre said, removing his helmet.
Satine gasped and took a step back. “What—what are you going to—”
“Mandalorians don’t kill needlessly. Killing you is pointless, and Ob’ika has been tasked with your protection, so I will assist him in that task.”
“Why?”
“He adopted me last night.” Obi-Wan said, tossing her a bar to eat for breakfast.
Tarre frowned when he was also handed one, “What’s this supposed to be?”
“It’s the only thing we have available right now. They lack flavor, but they provide what we need to keep going.” Obi-Wan said.
Tarre sighed with displeasure, “When we get to Keldabe, I’m making you proper food.”
To be continued...