Chapter Text
The planet of Takodana was beautiful. Its surface was dotted with vast plains, winding rivers, and lakes that mirrored the endless sky…
Ventress despised it with every fiber of her being. Such a peaceful place. It was entirely too full of life, overflowing with the nauseating warmth of the Light Side, despite being a notorious haven for pirates and smugglers.
Of course a Jedi would hide here.
The homestead was… disgustingly quaint. It was obvious her target had lived here for years. There was a well-maintained garden, a small orchard of heavy fruit trees, and—she paused, her lip curling in sheer mockery—a flower bed.
Truly a vile, hypocritical creature.
With her presence masked in the Force and her body concealed within the heavy branches of one of the nearby trees, she watched her prey putter about. Through the open window of what seemed to be a kitchen, the man appeared to be a standard human. He was a bit on the older side—though she could never really tell the exact age, especially when it came to Jedi. His hair still held some black, even if his temples were heavily streaked with gray.
Pure disgust filled her at the sight of a pink, frilly apron streaked with what was probably flour. The man—her target—set a pie, of all things, right onto the sill of the very window she had been watching him through.
How the mighty have fallen.
Still, her master’s Lord had warned her that this man was a talented duelist. Even if she didn’t believe it from just watching him, it would be unwise to ignore the explicit words of a Sith Lord. Better to kill him quickly.
Slipping out from her hiding place—as silent as a shadow and as unnoticeable as a speck of dust—Ventress crept closer to the house. It was easy to vault through the window, neatly avoiding the pie that had been placed there moments before… it actually did smell rather tasty.
The Jedi hadn’t even noticed her yet. His back was turned, entirely too busy taking off that stupid pink apron.
Outside, the heavy rumble of a ship landing broke the silence. The Jedi started to turn—but Ventress shoved him with the Force. A brutal wave of telekinetic energy slammed him backward, pinning the pathetic excuse for a Jedi to the wall like the insect he was.
Ventress’s lip curled with deep disgust. He didn’t even HAVE his lightsaber on him.
She ignited her blade, its bloody light tainting the messy kitchen as she strode forward. He opened his mouth, using the Force to make his voice boom as loud as he could, his expression twisting into absolute terror as he desperately tried to call out to whoever had just landed outside.
“AR—”
She drove the tip of her lightsaber straight through his neck, cutting off his shout and severing his spine in a single, clean motion. If one wasn't familiar with lightsaber wounds, it would easily be mistaken for the hole left by a powerful blaster bolt.
She deactivated her weapon, letting the body fall carelessly to the floor. The life within it was gone.
Now to leave. She would let whatever insect was on that ship find the body and assume whatever they wanted. It wasn't like this planet had anyone to investigate a—
A Mandalorian in white armor flew straight through the very window Ventress had used to enter the kitchen, already firing the blaster in her hands. Ventress successfully blocked the initial shots, her lips pulling back in a furious snarl, but the blasted creature didn't stop. The Mandalorian slammed her entire body weight directly into her.
Ventress's grip failed, one of her lightsabers clattering away as her hand knocked painfully into the edge of the stone counter—something inside her wrist cracking violently.
She didn't even have time to register the blinding pain before the insect's heavy, metal-covered fist came roaring for her face. The creature kept punching, screaming in a deafening mix of rage and agony, landing blow after heavy blow onto the dark assassin's face.
Groaning, Ventress unleashed a massive wave of the Force to hurl the Mandalorian away from her. The telekinetic blast smashed the brute right through the exterior wall, sending her body sailing out into the open—taking out the rest of the window structure and the freshly made pie that had been sitting there so innocently all this time.
Ventress telekinetically summoned her dropped lightsaber back to her belt. She wouldn't need it. Not to kill this pest.
Outside, the Mandalorian was already scrambling back to her feet. Her ship was still idling loudly behind her, but instead of running for the boarding ramp, she pulled out a secondary weapon, yelled something in her savage language that Ventress didn't care enough to try to understand. Even without words, the assassin could feel the grief and rage coming off the woman in massive, suffocating waves—along with a delicious undercurrent of fear.
This Mandalorian is smart to be afraid of her, she thought with a smirk.
The Mandalorian fired the unfamiliar weapon at her, Ventress moved to lazily bat away the first shot the white insect took at her—only to reel back with a sharp cry of agony. The superheated liquid metal of a melted slug splattered directly against her exposed skin. She hissed, her yellow eyes flashing with unbridled fury that this primitive creature dared to harm her with a slugthrower.
Enough games. Not even a Mandalorian could survive losing their head.
Irritatingly, it took the Sith assasin an entire five minutes to get close enough to finish the job. The brute's ugly metal shell protected her body from several of Ventress’s more debilitating Force attacks, frustrating the assassin with every deflected blow.
But finally, the Mandalorian fell. It was an inevitable victory; no pathetic insect in their shiny shell could ever claim victory over HER.
Ventress allowed herself a few quiet seconds to revel in her victory, breathing heavily as her adrenaline cooled. She extended her senses, using the Force to quickly scan the idling ship for any other passengers who might have arrived with the warrior.
Sensing nothing but empty metal and quiet space, she was satisfied. With a cold, meticulous focus, she began using the Force to carefully rearrange the bloodbath, dragging the bodies into place and scorching the environment to ensure it looked as if the Mandalorian and the Jedi had killed each other in a desperate crossfire.
Satisfied with her work and rather pleased with herself, Ventress finally left, leaving the little home and its ugly garden and flower beds to burn. Given how remote the area was, it would take months for anyone to find the crime scene. And by then? Any evidence of her being there—not that there was any to begin with—would be long gone.
The Sith assassin began her trek back to her own ship, not caring enough to even turn off the engines of the idling starship the Mandalorian had arrived on.
For a while, those were the only sounds that could be heard in the clearing where the house stood: the hum of an idling ship, and the crackling of the fire that was slowly eating away at the rest of the structure.
It was hard to say how much time had passed since the darksider had left the area… but it was long enough for the Force to whisper to the child hiding within the starship’s smuggling compartment that it was finally safe to come out.
Slow, terrified footsteps moved toward the open landing ramp. The child crept forward, tightly clutching the small blaster their Buir had been training them with. They stepped out into the air, and their eyes locked onto the sight of their parent, going wide as they pulled in a single, terrified breath. Her head was separated from her body, her carefully maintained white armor now littered with brutal scorch marks.
Tears filled the child’s eyes, blurring their vision. They quickly wiped them away with a sleeve and moved faster down the ramp, nearly tripping over their own feet as they raced past her dead body toward the house. They had felt a horrific pang in their chest earlier—the bond they shared with their father snapping like a weakened cable. He must have been hurt badly. He had to have been. He couldn't be…
“…Papa??”
Their Papa's body was half-hidden behind the upturned kitchen table. His eyes were wide open, but… he didn't move. He didn't breathe.
“Papa!?!” The child ran to their father's side, their little blaster clattering uselessly to the floor. They frantically shook his heavy shoulders, tears streaming down their cheeks as they tried desperately to get him to respond. “No… no, please. You can't—you gotta wake up!!” The child sobbed, their tiny frame shaking violently with the weight of their grief while the fire continued its slow, hungry consumption of the kitchen around them.
A glowing ember fell from the ceiling, landing right on their dad’s favorite sweater and burning the thick woolen fibers.
“No—no, stop! Go AWAY!!” the child screamed.
The Force flared wildly around them. A suffocating wave of pure, unadulterated grief crashed outward, physically snuffing out the flames in the kitchen as the child clutched desperately to their dead parent’s shirt.
“Please…” the child begged the quiet space around them, their voice trembling just like their small hands. “I—I can't live without you… Papa, please… please… don't leave me alone…”
The child cried soul-breaking sobs that hurt almost as badly as the loss of the two they loved most in this world.
The idling of the ship and the smoldering wood of the still-burning house faded into the background, as did the slowly returning sounds of the forest surrounding them. Even the Force had gone quiet and still.
Eventually, after the child had run out of tears, the Force nudged them gently.
You cannot stay here, the wind seemed to whisper as it moved the only remaining curtain on the broken wall—the wall that the monster had sent their Buir crashing through.
“No…” The grief had the child practically paralyzed, clinging even tighter to the wool of their dad’s cooling sweater. They didn't want to leave. They couldn't. Buir, Papa—they were both here!
Not here, the leaves rustled on the fruit trees their Buir had planted the day they were born. She’d said they came from her homeworld. Half of the branches were burned now, a mere skeleton of what had been before.
“I can't…” The child’s voice broke, despair choking them as they pressed themselves against the stiffening body of their dead parent.
You must. The flowers he had helped Papa plant were gone—half burned, half buried under the rubble of the shattered wall—but the grass brushed gently against the stone, a soft whisper of sound that was impossible to describe but unmistakable.
The Force nudged the child again, its touch gentle but firm.
You must. The stars Papa and Buir had taught them to read—making up stories about them while they all laid on the roof and stargazed on the nights with nothing else to do—twinkled into the kitchen through the hole the fire had eaten through the ceiling, their light weak but present.
Lost in despair, the child stumbled through the house. Most of it was still untouched… but the fire was spreading. Within hours, everything would be gone.
The distinct song of their Papa’s kyber crystal brought the dazed child straight to their parents' bedroom. Tucked inside a box under the bed was the lightsaber that would have protected their father… if only he’d had it with him.
The child picked up the heavy weapon with trembling hands. Its song was still so… happy, protective, and hopeful. But it was also a little off now, like a beautiful melody missing a vital instrument.
Tucked in the box alongside it was Buir’s knife—a shard of stone sharpened into a blade, wrapped with a few locks of dirty blonde hair that made up its handle, and stained with the blood of Buir’s first monster. A few other things were tucked into the box as well, but they didn't have time to go through them.
Hurry. The fire crackled. The smoke grew heavier as the flames began to retake the smoldering parts of the room that had been briefly extinguished by the child's grief. Grabbing the entire wooden box and clutching it tightly to their chest, the child ran.
Outside, the ship was still idling, its engines rumbling peacefully even as their home was devoured. Eden left the wooden box at the top of the landing ramp. Their soft-booted feet barely made a sound as they raced back down to the body of their Buir.
Tiny hands fumbled with the familiar buckles as they desperately stripped the armor off the corpse. It took two frantic trips. A third was needed just to get the helmet. The child had to close their eyes tightly as they picked it up, flinching at the sound of their Buir’s head falling out and smacking wetly into the ground. Nausea rolled through their stomach, but they didn't have the time to be sick.
They ran back toward the house. The fire had fully reclaimed what had been put out, making the smoke thick, heavy, and dangerous. But they couldn't leave their Buir’s armor behind. It was her soul, just like Papa’s kyber crystal had been.
The air was bitter as they burst through the door. The kid could barely breathe; every gasp felt like hot sand scraping their lungs. The child collapsed next to their Papa. This time, instead of clinging to him, they frantically reached under his smoking sleeve to retrieve the hidden armor underneath.
Mandalorians exchanged armor when they married. Papa had never taken off the vambrace Buir had given him.
Harsh, painful coughs wracked the ash-stained child as they finally stumbled out of the house. Their eyes were burning and teary as they staggered back toward the landing pad.
Hurry, the engines rumbled. A profound sense of urgency filled the child as they climbed up the ramp and into the ship. They tripped directly over their Buir’s haphazardly piled armor, hitting the metal deck hard enough to bruise, pulling another raspy cough from their aching lungs.
It took two tries just to hit the button to close the ramp. They had to crawl a few feet before finding the strength to stand and climb the ladder leading up to the cockpit.
Their eyes stung so badly from the ash that the child had no choice but to rely entirely on the Force and memory to get them off the ground. The ship shook violently, but it rose into the air as the primary lever was slowly pushed forward.
“Takeoffs and landings are the hardest part,” Buir had said as they landed earlier that day, smiling down at them just before throwing on her helmet and running outside when Papa screamed her name.
Eden—the child of a Mandalorian and a Jedi—blindly hit the buttons to program the coordinates for a hyperspace jump, letting the Force guide their shaking hands.
With a sudden roar, the ship disappeared into lines of starlight, leaving the burning homestead and the bodies of their parents far behind.