Chapter Text
Jaal Norx knew she was lucky from a young age. She had been born into Clan Norx to Tenk Norx and Le Stysa Norx, and from a young age she had been taught her clan’s history. Le Stysa would sit down with her each night and they would practice Mando’a and Basic or arithmetic and writing.
But some nights she would pull out the beskar box she kept under her and Tenk’s bed and pull out a small tapestry and her needles.
“Jaal,” she would say, “To know your past is to know your present.”
Jaal loved hearing her mother’s stories of Clan Norx’s triumphs and victories, hard fought battles and their allegiance to the Mandaore. By the time Jaal was four she could rattle off most of what she knew about her clan easily.
“She gets your memory,” Aenik Zrull had told Tenk after she finished repeating the stories to him.
Tenk had laughed and picked up Jaal, “She will do much good for the covert, I know it.”
“We shall see, ,” Le Stysa sighed, “Verd cuyir not gotal o'r a tuur”. For the first time Jaal wished she knew what her mother looked like beneath the cold gaze of her helmet.
That night, Le Stysa summoned Jaal and once again pulled out the box,but didn’t open it.
“Jaal,” She spoke in the tone she usually used when she was disappointed, “You have heard our stories of triumph and our greatest battles. But there will always be hut’uun in every Clan.”
Jaal didn’t know what hut’uun meant at the time, but she would learn that it was the greatest insult one could give to another.
Le Stysa then opened the box and pulled out an old pauldron that still had the scent of blaster fire and blood clinging to it. The sigil had been removed. “This,” She said, “Belonged to the greatest traitor in our clan, Ki Pho Norx. Ki Pho,” she spit the name like it was poison in her mouth, and even her modulated voice couldn't hide her utter hatred and disdain, “Was part of a faction known as the New Mandalorians. They were cowards who turned their backs on our legacy not just as Clan Norrix but of all Mandalorian traditions. Ki Pho traded her clan for the lies fed to her by the New Republic and Satine Kryze. She put down her arms like a fool and died as one.”
Jaal felt the chill in her mother’s voice and couldn’t look her in the eyes as she asked, “What happened to her?”
“She came back,” Le Stysa said, “On her knees, begging. By that time Death Watch was closing in on the New Mandalorians, and she knew they could not stand against them. Remember this Jaal, there is no mercy for traitors. I shot her myself.”
That night, back in her bunk, Jaal pulled out an old piece of paper and some charcoal and a mirror and drew the first picture of her mother.
Jaal knew that one day there would be a ceremony where she would have the honor of seeing her parent’s faces, but for now Jaal wondered. Le Stysa had severe features to match her temperament and voice. Jaal sketched her with her hair pulled back tight, as Jaal wasn’t sure if her own wild curls had come from her or Tenk. Jaal decided that her hair must be straight, as there was no way she could imagine Le Stysa fixing wild curls beneath her helmet.
By the time Jaal was satisfied with her drawing she heard one of the members of the covert coming and realized she must have stayed up all night sketching.
Except it wasn’t morning that sent the Mandalorian to find the younglings.
It was an attack, and whoever had come didn’t matter.
Imperials, Jaal would later say, but she knew it could have been anyone. Anyone could have motivation to get a covert of deadly warriors away or off world.
Jaal suited up in the armor she had earned and quickly helped some of the younglings do the same before the adults ordered them to move out.
Jaal had never felt such fear as in the moment they stepped out into the open. Many Mandalorians began to crowd the group together, forming a circle around them as they herded them towards a ship that seemed ready to take off any second.
Suddenly, a smooth circle was thrown into the center of the group and everyone was pulled back, shielded by the beskar armor of the adults or shoved into the dirt or onto the ship.
The blast went off and Jaal knew she was too close a second too late. The blast knocked her unsteady and left her dazed and a ringing in her ears. She couldn’t hear the battle, the blaster bolts or the orders as she stumbled, trying desperately to regain her balance when Tenk ran to her, pulling her down to narrowly avoid a blaster bolt. If he spoke Jaal couldn’t hear him, and most certainly couldn't take any clues with his helmet firmly on. Suddenly, he moved to quickly pull off his chest plate, placing the heavy beskar on her shoulders before standing and firing back towards the attackers.
Another Mandalorian grabbed Jaal and pulled her onto the ship, as Jaal watched in shock as he shot blaster bolt after blaster bolt towards the attackers, drawing them away from the ship.
She was pulled inside the ship and a minute later they were sealed inside.
Blaster fire hit the ship as they lifted off, but it barely registered as they escaped into the stars.
They’d be on that ship for what seemed like weeks, and during that time someone sprayed bacta into Jaal’s ears to help with the healing process, but Jaal would find that her hearing would never be quite right, resulting in her helmet having a few additions made to the audio part of it.
When they arrived on a grassy world Jaal would later learn to be known as Siencond the first thing she did was search for Le Stysa. Le Stysa had barely glanced at her as she helped unload one of the ships until Jaal rammed into her leg, hugging tightly as tears began to fall.
“Where’s Buir?” She manned to choke out.
Le Stysa looked down at her and hissed, “Uur. You are making a scene. Return to the other younglings at once.”
“But-” Jaal started, trying to stifle her tears.
“And bring Tenk’s chestplate to the Armorer. Perhaps the beskar will be useful to someone more worthy.” Le Stysa shook her leg out of Jaal’s grasp and walked away.
Aenik Zrull approached her and kneeled down, saying, “Come, adiik. Your buir is grieving greatly now and she is not in the right mind. I’ll take you to the Armorer, perhaps she will craft you your next piece of armor.”
Jaal took Aenik’s hand, still sniffling, “Okay.”
They retrieved the chestplate and Aenik carried it to the makeshift forge as Jaal walked beside him silently.
“This is the quietest I have ever know you to be, verd’ika,” Aenik said, “Do not let Tenk’s passing silence you, it will only stifle your growth.”
“How do you know?” Jaal asked quietly.
Aenik looked down at her through his vizor and the gesture almost reminded her of what Tenk used to do before picking her up. “Because I went through the same thing. My buir died during an attack by the Imperials. She was protecting us until the very end and allowed us to escape. I couldn’t even be near a blaster for months without wanting to cry. I had to accept and honor her sacrifice before I could grow to take the creed.”
Jaal let his words roll in her mind as he led her into the makeshift forge. The Armorer and several other members of the watch were still setting up.
“Armorer,” he said, bowing his head in respect before Jaal copied his movements, “Jaal’ika has something to contribute.” He handed the chestplate to her and nervously she approached, offering it to the Armorer.
“It was my Buir’s,” she managed to say, keeping her eyes down, “Tenk Norx.”
The Armorer took the chestplate from her and examined the orange painted Beskar before finally speaking, “Tenk Norx fought well. His armor will help to protect a new generation of warriors. This is the way.”
“This is the way,” Jaal and Aenik repeated as the Armorer gestured for Jaal to sit on one of the emptied crates.
Jaal sat as the Armorer tested the forge, lighting it so blue fire lit up the room and nodding in approval towards the other members of the covert. As she worked, Jaal watched. At some point Aenik had left so she watched as members of the clan came and went. The Mandalorain in green and black armor, whom she heard referred to as ‘sarad’ several times by the red clad Mandalorian. Le Stysa had never been referred to anything close to that by Tenk, and if he had she probably would have demanded he go to one of the medics.
Sarad seemed to have a nervous energy about her, constantly flitting between wires and tubes, moving so quickly that she seemed to be everywhere at once. The red clad one, who seemed to go by Alo hadn’t moved from the spot she had been crouched since Jaal had entered, slowly and methodically examining her work, occasionally scribbling down notes on a small pad that Sarad would occasionally flit over to glance at or scribble down her own notes. Alo tended to leave lingering touches with her, but Sarad never returned them. A one sided love, like something out of a holodrama.
Eventually Jaal turned her attention back to the Armorer. She moved with a kind of unearthly grace that made Jaal wonder if she was even mortal. There was confidence in every step she took and power in every movement. The sound of metal on metal rang through the forge as Jaal watched, trying to decipher the Armorer.
Finally, the Armorer deemed the new piece finished and gestured for Jaal to approach.
“Jaal Norx,” the Armorer said as she held out a blade to her, “With this you will always carry a piece of your father with you. This is the way.”
Jaal took the blade, holding it reverently as she stared at her reflection before slowly raising her head to face the Armorer and resheathing the blade, near whispering, “This is the way. I will make him and the covert proud.”
The Armorer nodded a dismissal and Jaal nodded her head in respect before exiting the forge. Night had fallen and twin moons lit up the sky with thousands of asteroids reflecting their light into the covert. They had set up in a valley that must have once been a crash sight, given the way the overhangs of stone and grass covered the edges. Tents had been set up and although it had quieted, Jaal could still hear the voices of others.
Moving as quietly as she could, Jaal searched for Le Stysa, glancing into tents for her mother’s signature dark orange and red armor.
Jaal found her sooner than expected, sitting beneath one of the overhangs, the flashlight on her helmet shining like a beacon.
“Buir?” Jaal whispered as she approached, and Le Stysa snapped up to attention to look at her daughter.
“Jaal,” Le Stysa said in her usual harsh tone, “You should be with the other younglings.”
Jaal hesitated just a moment before she pulled out the knife, “Aenik took me to the Armorer. She made me this out of Buir’s armor.”
Le Stysa reached out towards the knife, her gloved fingers ghosting along the surface of the blade. Jaal wished she could read her mother better in that moment, as she couldn’t tell if she was angry or sad or happy or any mix of emotions.
Finally, Le Stysa sat back wordlessly and continued staring out into the night. Jaal sat down next to her, and when Le Stysa didn’t move to chastise her, she spoke, “Will you tell me more about Clan Norx?”
“There is nothing to tell,” Le Stysa spoke softly, “Our history was left behind on Chif.”
“Don’t worry, Buir,” Jaal said after a moment of consideration, “When I’m old enough I’ll go back and find the box for you.”
Le Stysa reached out for Jaal and Jaal eagerly leaned into her touch. Tenk had always been the one to provide comfort to her, always the one to hold her close or encourage her after failing. Le Stysa had always just sighed disappointedly and critiqued her or told her to get up. As she held her daughter, she spoke quietly, “It doesn’t work like that, Jaal’ika.”