Storytime with Rachel F Hundred

“We have a mission for you and your Padawan, Master Jinn.”

Obi-Wan kept the wince off his face with difficulty at Master Windu’s pronouncement.  He and his Master had arrived back the night before from their last mission.  They hadn’t even been in the Temple for a full single day. 

Master Yoda looked over at him with large knowing eyes peering out of his wrinkly face.  “Important, this mission is, or else let you rest, we would.”

“We understand,” Master Qui-Gon said serenely.

Obi-Wan bowed his head rather than say anything. 

He was eighteen. 

He was a Senior Padawan. 

He was pleased to be of service.

He ignored his internal voice pointing out that he’d have been more pleased if he’d had the chance to enjoy hot water and a comfortable bed for a few more nights.

“We’ve been requested by the Senate to send a team to represent the Jedi during the coronation of the new Mand’alor,” Windu continued.   

Obi-Wan’s eyes widened dramatically even as his Master startled visibly next to him.

“What?” Qui-Gon spluttered.  “I mean,” he took a breath, letting his surprise drift into the Force and resuming his calm demeanour. “I mean to say that this is very unexpected.”

Unexpected was an understatement.

Someone across the chamber snorted, but when Obi-Wan looked the Council looked back as stoically as ever.

Obi-Wan couldn’t blame them for their outburst anymore than he could blame his Master.  For the Senate to request any Jedi presence at a Mandalorian event was more than a little dubious. 

Five hundred years before, in defence of the Republic, the Jedi had been sent to kill the Mandalorian leadership and raze the home planet of Mandalore of agricultural life.  They had wiped out dozens of Mandalorian Sentinel and Guide Tribes, and established a hundred years of occupancy before leaving the planet in the caretaking hands of a Duchy. 

That had sent the whole Mandalorian system into centuries of civil war.

It was one of the Jedi’s most shameful moments in their history in Obi-Wan’s opinion.  He’d argued as much in his Junior Padawan history thesis.  Yes, the Mandalorians had been openly hostile to the Republic and unwilling to discuss a treaty, but the Republican acts of assassination and genocide were a pre-emptive strike not self-defence.  The Senate had never liked the structure of Mandalorian society with their strong tribal instincts under the leadership of the powerful Sentinel and Guides.  Only the Sith and Jedi with their access to their Force were able to stand against a Sentinel and Guide. 

With the Sith defeated only the Jedi remained to challenge the Mandalorians.  The Jedi had been convinced by evidence faked by Republican spies; they’d been horrified in the aftermath.  In Obi-Wan’s view, the Jedi had failed to investigate properly and for them to agree to such acts regardless of any justification went against everything they were taught.

Certainly, the events had led to significant changes in the relationship between the Republican Senate and the Jedi.  The Senate could only request Jedi involvement; the Jedi Council had the final say and only after the information provided by the Senate was verified.  The rules were strict and followed to the letter lest the Jedi find themselves the perpetrators of another genocide.    

“The Mand’alor wants to establish a dialogue with the Republic and the Jedi to prevent past events from being repeated,” Windu said with the air of a man repeating a communique word for word.

“Do we believe them?” asked Qui-Gon.

“We know that this Mand’alor is the first Mandalorian to successfully unite the Mandalorian people since the Excision,” Windu said.  “We were asked two years ago to provide protection for a rival political leader to Jaster Mereel.  Duke Kryze approached the Senate with the request and we declined as it could have been seen as interference.”

“You think this is Mereel’s way of acknowledging that?” surmised Qui-Gon.

“Perhaps,” Windu said, tilting his head thoughtfully.  The dim sunlight bounced off his dark skin.  “Perhaps this is intended as a first strike against us.  We’ve never gotten Shadows close enough to Mandalore to know for certain what kind of character he is.”

“The truth of the Mand’alor, discover you must,” Yoda confirmed.

“The Senate are sending representatives of their own?” asked Qui-Gon.

“Yes,” Windu confirmed.  “There will be a small Senatorial party.  All the relevant information is here.”  He handed over a metal cylinder to Qui-Gon.  “You’ll travel with them.  Your ride leaves from the rotunda hangar in five hours.”  He nodded at them.  “May the Force be with you.”

Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan bowed deeply.  They turned and left the Council Chamber the picture of a perfectly in-synch pair.

With the doors shut behind them, Qui-Gon tossed the cylinder at Obi-Wan.  “Prepare for the mission and meet me at the ship.”

“Yes, Master, and where will you be should anyone enquire?” asked Obi-Wan tersely.  His Master had a habit of disappearing on him.  He was betting his whole allowance that Qui-Gon’s answer would be… 

Qui-Gon smiled at him enigmatically.  “I will be following the will of the Force.”  He swept away before Obi-Wan could say anything else.

“Right, will of the Force,” muttered Obi-Wan.  Just as he had thought. 

Which really meant Qui-Gon was going to the lower levels to see what gossip he could get from some of his more unsavoury contacts. 

Obi-Wan sighed. 

He had such a bad feeling about this.

o-O-o

“Lastly, we have confirmation finally from the Republican Senate regarding their attendance.”

Jango wasn’t the only one who looked sharply up at his buir’s words. 

Jaster smiled at the sudden increase in attention. 

Jango stared back unapologetically.  As far as he was concerned the meeting had already gone on too long.

“They have confirmed that there will be two Senators, two aides and two Jedi attending,” Jaster continued.  “The Senior Senator from Naboo, a Sheev Palpatine and his aide, Pol Typhon; the Junior Senator from Alderaan, a Bail Antilles, and his aide Alfano Organa.  From the Jedi, we have Master Qui-Gon Jinn and his Padawan Obi-Wan Kenobi.”

“I don’t see why they have to be at the coronation,” grumbled Arla. 

Jango silently agreed with his sister.  The outreach to the Republic had been all their buir’s idea.

“I think it is a prudent move,” Sentinel Kryze said, tossing her red hair back.  Sixteen was young to be in charge of her tribe, but her sister and father had been killed by Kry’stad two years before bringing her online.

They had found her almost feral, still covered in the blood of those who had attacked her clan even though days had passed.  Luckily, Arla had been able to act as a Guide conservator and stabilise her.

“We keep our friends close, but our enemies closer,” Kryze said firmly, tapping her closed fist on the table.

Across the table, Gai Wren nodded.  “We need to ensure we never face another Dral’han.”

“If they come, they will discover that Sentinels walk amongst us again despite their best efforts to eliminate the tribes,” Liu Vizsla intoned solemnly.  The elder of the Vizsla clan had taken over once Jango had beheaded Tor and Pre had died in the Kryze attack.  Liu was dormant, but he was pragmatic and sane unlike his dead cousins. “Can we take the risk?”

Jaster cleared his throat.  “The point of history is not to repeat it.”  He placed his hands flat on the table.  “The Jedi had just defeated the Sith when the Republic requested a treaty of non-violence, of truce between the Mandalorian Empire and the Republic.  Frid Vizsla, the Mand’alor of the time, refused to entertain a treaty, to enter talks of how to create peace between us and the Republic.”

“And that gave them the right to attack us?  To try and wipe us from existence?” snarled Kahl Saxon, thumping the table.

“No,” Jaster snapped back. “but if we are to continue rebuilding, we cannot afford war with the Republic.”

“You intend for us to negotiate a treaty with them?” Gai sighed.

Jaster’s Guide sat forward.  “Jaster seeks to keep the tribe safe.” 

Jango liked Silas.  He was on the surface, non-descript; brown hair, green eyes, pleasant face.  They’d been friends in Jaster’s army long before Silas had laid eyes on Jaster himself at Korda VI.   Their meeting had brought the pair online and helped prevent Jaster’s death at the hands of the traitorous Montross.  Silas and Jaster made a good team, both supporting each other.  Jango hoped to have the same with his own Guide when he finally met them.

“And what,” asked Sli Ordo slyly, “does ner Mand’alor intend?”

They all turned to look at Jango.

Jango repressed the urge to sigh.  He had been Alpha since his parents’ deaths.  He’d come online to save Arla and he’d never regretted it.  He’d been lucky that Jaster had adopted him and protected him while he grew up. 

“I believe Bo-Katan said it best,” Jango said bluntly.  “The Republic fear the strength of Sentinels and Guides.  They have never understood our connection to ner Manda, our spirit plane.  The Jedi are the only warriors strong enough to defeat us.”  He suspected the Force had some kind of link with the spirit plane; perhaps it was made of the same psionic energy.  “We cannot afford war with either.  My buir’s plan makes sense.  If we form an alliance with them, we keep them contained and we can continue to grow and rebuild Mandalore to its full glory.”

There were a few calls of ‘oya’ from down the table, ‘kote’ from others.

Jaster looked at him approvingly.

“They will come,” Jango said.  “We will all play a game of poffum with them and they will leave.”  He gestured at Jaster.  “And now that is settled, for the love of Manda, buir, please call time on this meeting!”

Laugher erupted along the table and Jaster quickly called the meeting to a close.

Jango stayed seated at the table as the others piled out of the room.  Finally, there was only himself and Jaster.

Silas gave an understanding smile and closed the door on them.

“Thank you, Jan’ika, for backing my play,” Jaster said quietly.

Jango blew out a breath.  “I know you think this is the best course of action with the Republic.”

“They want guarantees that we will not hunt them in the night and steal their planets,” Jaster said derisively. “They will lap up the opportunity to enter a treaty with us, believing they leash us.”  He stabbed a finger at Jango.  “Instead, we will have freedom to grow the tribe.”

Jango picked up his glass of water and threw it back.  He wished it was something stronger.  He hated politics.

“What of the Jetiise?” he asked. 

Jaster shrugged.  “We’ve always been able to hold our own with them.  It’s why they and their Darksider counterparts hate us.”  He waved a hand.  “We can handle them.”

“I hope you’re right,” Jango said.

Jaster stood and patted Jango’s shoulder comfortingly before he left Jango alone in the meeting room.

Jango’s eyes strayed to the back of the room where a Stewjoni loth-cat played with his Mandalorian wolffe – teasing the wolffe and pouncing on its tail.  His Guide’s spirit animal was turning up more and more.  He only hoped it signalled that he would soon meet his Guide.  Manda knew he was going to need the help if he had to deal with the Republic and the Jedi.

o-O-o

“Are you even listening, Master?” Obi-Wan let his irritation at Qui-Gon’s inattention seep into his voice.  The persistent headache at his temples sharpened his tone a touch more than he had anticipated.

They were both locked in their tiny room aboard the Senatorial ship, The Republican.  They’d squished themselves at the tiny table with its tiny chairs across from the two narrow bunk beds.   The main suites had been taken over by the Senators and their aides leaving Obi-Wan and his Master with the cramped quarters typically assigned to the ship’s officers.  It was better than a lot of places they ended up bunking; neither of them complained.

Qui-Gon’s face flickered briefly with guilt before he gestured at Obi-Wan.  “Continue, Padawan.”

Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow.  He took a deep breath to ease his headache and centred himself.  “Perhaps I should get you to repeat back to me what you have already heard.”

It had been his Master’s favourite technique for drilling Code treatises into his brain.

Qui-Gon broke his serenity to roll his eyes at Obi-Wan.  “That will not be necessary, Padawan.”

“Ah, then you remember what I’ve explained about the recent Mandalorian history which is vital to our visit?” Obi-Wan said sassily, hiding his hands in the wide width of his robes’ sleeves.  

Chagrin was not a usual look for Qui-Gon and he didn’t suit it at all.

“What piece of information did you learn from Dex which has you so distracted, Master?” Obi-Wan asked.

Qui-Gon pressed his lips together.  “You are becoming annoyingly perceptive, Obi-Wan.”

“Thank you, Master.”  Obi-Wan rather hated that he’d had to become perceptive about his Master’s moods.  They’d never had the strongest of Force bonds and Qui-Gon’s experience with the padawan before Obi-Wan meant Qui-Gon rarely opened up his Force presence to Obi-Wan, even in meditation when it was usual for a Master to guide their Padawans.

Qui-Gon nodded decisively.  “What do you know about Sentinels and Guides, Padawan?”

Obi-Wan swallowed the urge to blurt out all the hours he had done for his Junior Padawan history thesis.  “Sentinels and Guides are a phenomenon within the Mandalorian people.  It is believed that they stem from ancient genetics developed when the Mandalorians were still tribal.  Sentinels had enhanced senses who to enable them to better protect the tribe; they were the forerunners of the warrior culture that Mandalore developed.  Guides had enhanced ability to interact with something called the Manda, the spirit plane.  Sentinels and Guides partnered together to powerful effect.  It is believed that a super-Sentinel – an Alpha was the first Mand’alor; his Guide, the Rid’alor, his partner.”

Qui-Gon blinked at him.  “I understand better Master Nu’s fondness for you.”

It was Obi-Wan’s turn to roll his eyes.

“You are correct,” Qui-Gon said.  “It is also rumoured that the Mand’alor first began a path of conquest only in retaliation for an invasion on their home world.  The Sentinels and Guides spread to other planets and eventually more Sentinels and Guides would emerge from the planet’s indigenous population.”

Obi-Wan nodded.

“It was this fear that was at the heart of the Republic’s request for Mandalore to restrict itself to the systems it had won, for it to enter into a treaty of non-violence,” Qui-Gon continued.  “When the Mandalorians refused, well, you know only too well of the tragedy that followed.”  He waited a beat.  “I did read your Junior Padawan history thesis, Padawan.”

Obi-Wan hid his surprise.  Qui-Gon rarely paid attention to his formal Padawan classes unless Obi-Wan asked for help.  He’d never complimented him on a score or any piece of work Obi-Wan had submitted, despite Obi-Wan knowing that Qui-Gon was copied on everything.  He’d rather assumed that the lack of feedback was down to Qui-Gon not reading any of it.

“The rumour on the lower levels is that the Sentinels and Guides have started to emerge among the Mandalorians again,” Qui-Gon said.

Obi-Wan absorbed that with a sharp intake of breath.  “That would make sense of the recent history.”

Qui-Gon’s gaze narrowed on him.  “I am listening now, Padawan,” he said.

Obi-Wan gestured at the datapad where he had loaded up the information from the Council.  “Prior to fifteen years ago, the Mandalorians were split into three factions: the New Mandalorians who were the remnants of the caretakers left behind by the Republic, pacifists who eschewed traditional Mandalorian culture; Kry’stad or Death Watch, violent extremists who believed a return to conquest was the way forward; and, the Haat Mando’ade, the True Mandalorians who had united under the leadership of Jaster Mereel.”

“The moderate side,” Qui-Gon said with an expression that invited Obi-Wan to believe Qui-Gon had been listening the first time through the material.

“Hmmm,” Obi-Wan said.  “Yes; the moderate side who believed in their traditions but also believed more in protection of Mandalore rather than conquest.”  He waved a hand at Qui-Gon.  “Skirmishes between the latter groups were common given their warrior creeds.”

“And that is what happened fifteen years ago to change things?  A skirmish?” Qui-Gon posited.

“A skirmish on Concord Dawn seems to have been the turning point,” Obi-Wan said.  “The Republic and the Jedi have never found out the exact details, but it was there that Jaster Mereel took two children orphaned by Kry’stad as his own.  They are identified as Arla and Jango Fett.  Ten and six standard at the time.”

Qui-Gon looked surprised.

“The clans began to unite behind Mereel after that,” Obi-Wan said.  “The propaganda and rhetoric emphasised Mereel’s moderation was attracting people, but the rate of attraction to his cause compared to previous years doesn’t make sense unless…”

“Unless something fundamentally changed,” Qui-Gon stated.

Obi-Wan nodded.  Something like the re-emergence of Sentinels and Guides would have made it easier for the True Mandalorian movement to gain traction. “A few years ago, Mereel’s Haat Mando’ade won a decisive victory against Tor Vizsla, the leader of the Kry’stad.  Vizsla died in a fight with Jango Fett.”

“Which was when the New Mandalorians reached out to the Senate for assistance,” Qui-Gon put together the same threads Obi-Wan had.

“Duke Kryze’s request for assistance only mentions the growing strength of the True Mandalorian movement, not Kry’stad,” Obi-Wan confirmed.  “In his eyes, they were the threat to his seat of power at the time.”

“Did Fett and Mereel kill the Duke?” asked Qui-Gon.

Obi-Wan shook his head, his Padawan braid swinging to the front before he pushed it back.  “What little remained of Kry’stad tried to consolidate their power on Mandalore, attacking Sundari.  Kryze’s youngest daughter is credited with killing the new leader, Pre Vizsla, in self-defence.  The Haat Mando’ade were asked to restore order by the panicking Prime Minister.  They did and in doing so, they united the remaining holdouts.”

“Almost two standard years ago,” Qui-Gon mused.

“Quite,” agreed Obi-Wan.

“So, why the coronation now?” asked Qui-Gon out loud.

“Because the Mand’alor is now old enough for the Republic to fully consider them an adult and not to consider them vulnerable,” Obi-Wan theorised, a thread of excitement in his voice.

Qui-Gon looked at him evenly.  “You do not believe Mereel is the Mand’alor?”

Obi-Wan smiled.  “In all of his communications to the Senate, Mereel never refers to himself as such.  I rather suspect that he is acting in a position of trust, perhaps has even held some form of regency; he may also just be a decoy.”

“And if he is doing so, he must be doing it for someone he cares for greatly,” Qui-Gon completed.  “You think one of the Fetts is the actual Mand’alor.”

Obi-Wan nodded.  “Both were children at the time they were orphaned.  If one of them emerged as an Alpha Sentinel at that moment?  It would explain the momentum shifting to the Haat Mando’ade.  Now, they have united the clans and are fully adult, they are no longer an easy mark in the eyes of Mandalore’s enemies.  It would make sense that the Mandalorians expect to do the reveal with the coronation.”

Qui-Gon gave a satisfied hum.  “Well reasoned, Padawan.”

Obi-Wan felt a momentary burst of pride at the hard-earned praise.  “Of course, if Sentinels and Guides are emerging in the Mandalorian system, the question remains what threat has triggered them to come online?” He mused out loud.

Qui-Gon opened his mouth to reply, but the doorbell chimed before he could.

Qui-Gon opened the door with a brief wave of his hand.  Palpatine’s aide stood outside, arms behind her back. She regarded them with a frown. 

“The Senators are inviting you to join them for dinner in Senator Palpatine’s suite,” Typhon said briskly.

Obi-Wan hid his unease at the invitation.  He’d liked Senator Antilles and his aide; they felt warm and kind in the Force.  But while Palpatine felt harmless, Obi-Wan couldn’t shake the impression of him as slimy.  Like most politicians.

He swallowed his sigh as Qui-Gon happily accepted the invitation and gestured for him to follow.  He took another breath to ease his headache again and fell in behind his Master.

He guessed he could live through one meal.

o-O-o

“Are they settled?” asked Jango gruffly. 

He and Jaster had stayed behind at the palace sending a small group to greet the Republic delegation when their ship had landed earlier.

Silas nodded, sitting beside Jaster on the sofa and leaning into his Sentinel.  “They’ve been shown to their rooms and know dinner will be served in their private dining room tonight.  They know they can explore their wing but that they’ll have a guard for their own safety.”

Arla was in charge of the guard duty which meant she was missing from the debrief.

“The old guy was a little pouty that they don’t get to meet the Mand’alor until tomorrow,” Myles noted, his voice thick with his usual irreverence.

“Senator Antilles was very gracious,” Bo-Katan noted.

“Someone has a crush!” teased Myles.

Bo-Katan punched at his exposed neck and head, the only part of him not armoured.

Myles dodged but put his hands up in surrender. “I don’t blame you!  He’s very attractive.  I’d kriff him.”

“What of the Jetiise?” asked Jango.

“The younger one, sure, he’s copikla,” Myles answered, “but definitely not his Master.  He’s not my type.  Too tall.”

Silas snorted, amusement flashing across his face.  

“Everyone is your type,” snarked Bo-Katan.

Jango resisted the urge to smack Myles.  “I meant what were your general impressions of them!  Are they going to cause trouble?”

“Jetiise always cause trouble,” grumbled Jaster.

Silas smiled at Jaster and nodded.  “They seem typical of the stories – emotionless.  I barely felt the old one in the Manda.”  He shrugged.  “They kept their light swords out of sight at least.”

“The younger guy was curious,” Myles argued.  “He looked like he wanted to talk with us at one point, but the older guy shot him a look and he retreated.” 

Jaster pointed at him.  “You look disturbed by that.”

Myles shrugged.  “Just…it reminded me of a slave with its Master, not a student with his teacher.”

“I don’t think it was that bad, but he was very deferential to his teacher,” Silas agreed.  There was a contemplative look on his face.

“What?” asked Jaster, clearly picking up on his Guide’s unease.

“There is something about the young Jetii,” Silas said.  “He feels familiar.”

Jango frowned.  “Could you have come across him before?”

Silas thought for a moment and shook his head.  “No,” he sighed.  “Perhaps I sense familiarity because he has the feel of a warrior in the Manda.  Like he has seen many battles despite his age.”

“Did we get any bio-information on the Republican party from the Senate?” asked Jango brusquely.

Jaster picked up his datapad and flipped to the relevant document.  He peered at the text with a frown.

“The Padawan is known as Obi-Wan Kenobi,” Jaster said.  “According to the limited information, he is eighteen, and is the student of Master Qui-Gon Jinn.  They are held in high regard by the Chancellor because of their diplomatic efforts in many missions.  There is a list and…”

“And that can’t be right,” Silas murmured, reading over Jaster’s shoulder.

“What can’t be right?” asked Jango.  If anyone else had held the datapad he might have yanked it away from them, but he had too much respect for his buir to do so.

“This list of missions,” Jaster said with a note of anger in his voice, “there are numerous examples of war zones and conflicts.  That boy has been to war since he was twelve.”

They were all silent for a long moment as they absorbed the information.

Jango felt a rush of unbidden empathy for the young Jetii.  He knew what it was like to grow up on a battlefield.  Neither he nor his fellow Mandalorians had had a choice with Kry’stad so determined to wage the civil war they had, but he would wish his experience on no-one. 

“Perhaps he is more like us than we had imagined any Jetii could be,” Silas said, putting their thoughts into words as he often did.        

Jaster set the datapad down.  “I need to go spar before dinner otherwise I will be tempted to seek out his ba’juri and punch him.”

Sparring sounded like an excellent idea.

It was followed by a relatively early late meal with Jaster and Silas.  They went over the final preparations of the coronation which would take place the next day.  Jango wasn’t looking forward to an entire day of formality.

Jango wandered after the meal.  It was still light outside, the sun only just beginning to set.

He headed over to the guest wing where they had situated the Republican Senators and the Jetiise.  He wanted to catch-up with Arla; to talk with his sister about her impressions of the group.

He nodded at the guard at the main doors who acknowledged him with a fist to the chest.  “My sister?”

The guard shuffled his feet.  “She escorted the young Jetii into the gardens, ‘Alor.”

Jango frowned.  “And the other guests?”

“Still at dinner, ‘Alor.” 

He nodded in acknowledgement and turned for the path he figured Arla would have guided the Jetii down.  Five minutes later, he wasn’t surprised to find Arla stood guard outside of a walled garden near the North side of the palace.  The soothing sound of a brook cascading over polished stones competed with the heavy scent of ro’ses. 

Arla removed her buy’ce at his approach and he did the same.  Without their helmets, it was easy to see the sibling resemblance in their strong jaws, amber eyes and heads of curly black hair.

“The Jetii?” asked Jango gruffly.

“In the garden, taking some air,” Arla confirmed.  She glanced over her shoulder.  “When we went to escort them to dinner, his ba’juri said the Padawan would stay in his room to meditate because of a headache.”

“Did we…”

“His ba’juri turned down the baar’ur we offered,” Arla said in a disgusted tone which gave away what she thought of the Master and his treatment of the Padawan without her saying another word.  “I organised some broth for Obi-Wan in his room and he invited me to stay while he ate.  We talked a little.”  Her expression turned thoughtful.  “There is something about this Jetii, Jango.”

“Silas said the same,” Jango said, keeping his voice low.  “His file shows he has Mandokarla.”

Arla nodded slowly.  “I could see that.”  Her gaze landed back on Jango.  “You should talk with him.”

Jango raised an eyebrow.  Part of him wanted to deny the urge he felt to do just that, but he’d learned to listen when the Manda spoke to him, and it was telling him to meet with the Jetii.

He took a step toward the archway.

There was a snicker.

He turned back to his smirking sister.  “Not a word.”

Jango ignored her and headed into the garden.  It was one of his own favourites.  The planting was wild, a riot of colours interspersed with different shades of greens.  He meandered down the stone pathway to the brook and…

He froze.

Kenobi sat on a low bench by the water swaddled in an ugly brown robe.  His auburn hair caught the last rays of the sun, glinting like fire in the twilight.  The Padawan braid was neatly tied back, wrapped around a stumpy tail at the back of his head to mimic a bun.

It wasn’t the quick punch of attraction nor the weird sense of ‘there you are’ which had stopped him though.  Rather it was the sight of his spirit wolffe cosying up to the Jetii who was petting it with an affectionate smile.

Jango forced himself to move.

A single step caught Kenobi’s attention, his head whipping around and his gaze landing on Jango with sharp intent.

“Hello there,” Kenobi said politely, making to rise from the bench.

Jango waved him back to sitting and strode over.  He came to a stop beside the bench, the wolffe shifting to greet him with a happy grin and a surprisingly corporeal lick.  Jango rubbed its head before the wolffe turned and headed back to Kenobi.

“Is he yours?” Kenobi asked, his blue-green eyes alight with curiosity as he resumed petting the wolffe.  “He’s a friendly fellow.”

“He’s really not,” Jango said dryly.  “You must have a way with animals.”

Kenobi gave a chagrined smile.  “Ah, not really.  That’s always been my Master’s thing.  He often adopts creatures on our missions.”  He looked up at Jango with suddenly wide eyes.  “Oh, my apologies.  I haven’t even introduced myself! I am Obi-Wan Kenobi.”

“Jango Fett,” Jango replied immediately, “and you owe me no apologies.” He gestured at the bench.  “May I join you, Padawan Kenobi?”

“Of course, and please call me Obi-Wan.”

“Obi-Wan,” Jango repeated as he sat down.  “You may call me Jango.”

Obi-Wan nodded, a flush racing over his freckled cheeks.  “I am honoured to meet you,” he hesitated before adding, “Jango.”

Jango raised his eyebrows, silently questioning the hesitation.

Obi-Wan bit his lip and stroked a hand over the wolffe before he replied.  “My apologies, it’s just that I am a little hesitant to call the Mand’alor by his given name even with your kind invitation.”

Jango smiled.  “You know I am Mand’alor.”

Obi-Wan smiled back bashfully.  “My Master and I worked it out.”

Jango suspected Obi-Wan had done the heavy lifting on the deduction.  “My buir will be disappointed.  He was hoping it would be a surprise to your party tomorrow and was looking forward to the shocked reactions.”

“He’ll still get them,” Obi-Wan assured him.  “Neither my Master nor I have informed the Senators.”  He shrugged.  “Although perhaps they also suspect.  I deduced it after all.”

Jango tilted his head.  “Is my identity the only thing you deduced?”

Obi-Wan gave no indication that Jango’s bluntness bothered him.  He looked back at Jango with a hint of mischief.  “I might have also posited that you became Mand’alor because you emerged as an Alpha Sentinel.”  His expressions sobered.  “My condolences on the loss of your parents.  It must have been a very difficult time.”

Jango hummed.  “I had my buir and my sister.”  He caught Obi-Wan’s curious look.  “You have questions about Sentinels and Guides?”

Obi-Wan smiled charmingly.  “Only if you are comfortable to answer them?”

“Perhaps an exchange?” suggested Jango.  “I have many questions about the Jetiise, the Jedi.”

“Of course,” Obi-Wan agreed, easing his hands into the sleeves of his robes as the wolffe padded away to examine the water and the small swimming nauti creatures.

Jango’s nerves fell away as they drifted into an easy discussion, trading questions and answers.

It wasn’t until the sudden bright flickering ignition of the garden lanterns flooded the darkened space that they stopped.

Jango wondered at how he’d lost track of time.  He’d enjoyed talking with Obi-Wan.  The young Jetii had a sly sense of humour, an insatiable curiosity and an easy likeable manner.  Oh, he had been careful not to give away any real secrets but he had shared what he could with an open honesty Jango admired. 

Jango liked him.

Jango liked him a lot.

“Ah,” Obi-Wan said quietly.  “I didn’t realise it had gotten so late.”

“Your Master is probably wondering where you are,” Jango said.

Obi-Wan made a small sound which might have been agreement, but Jango suspected was not.  He’d gotten the impression that Obi-Wan’s Master often left him alone to fend for himself.  The stories he’d wheedled from Obi-Wan about his missions had regularly had Jinn disappearing.

“I should probably return to my rooms,” murmured Obi-Wan.

Jango nodded and stood up.  “You should rest.  My sister said you had a headache?” He ushered them back down the path.

“It’s much better now,” Obi-Wan said with a hint of surprise colouring his tone and expression.  He shook his head.  “I think the fresh air did its job of easing it away.”

“And here I thought it might be the company,” Jango teased.

The garden lanterns threw off just enough light to show Jango Obi-Wan’s blush.

“Perhaps it was both,” Obi-Wan demurred shyly.

Jango smiled back as they reached Arla.  She’d replaced her buy’ce which meant Jango could avoid her knowing look for longer.

“It’s been a pleasure talking with you, Obi-Wan,” Jango said, offering his hand.

Obi-Wan clasped his hand briefly, an uncertain look crossing his face as he let go.  “Mine too.”

“Perhaps after all of the ceremonies tomorrow, we can continue our discussion?” asked Jango, unwilling to just let Obi-Wan go.

Obi-Wan smiled.  “I would like that.” He tapped a fist to his chest in the way Jango had shown him during their discussion.  “Until tomorrow, Mand’alor.”     

“Ret’urcye mhi, Obi-Wan,” Jango said.

Arla nodded at him and carefully drew Obi-Wan away.

Jango watched them until they disappeared from view, struggling with the urge to follow. 

He took a deep breath.

Obi-Wan Kenobi.  A Jetii.  A Padawan.  And his Guide.

o-O-o

The morning sky looked clear and bright.

Obi-Wan opened the window and breathed in the crisp air.  He’d woken up without a faint hint of the headache that had plagued him the entire trip to Mandalore. 

He blew out a breath.

He’d slept surprisingly well after his time in the garden the night before.

He blushed again as his mind skittered over the fact that his time in the garden had been time with Jango.

With the Mand’alor, Obi-Wan reminded himself. 

Upon whom Obi-Wan could not indulge in a crush. 

No matter how attractive Jango was. 

How easy it had been to talk to him. 

Like a part of a puzzle clicking into place when Obi-Wan hadn’t ever realised there was a puzzle or a piece missing before.

He feared that maybe he’d already fallen for Jango somewhere between Obi-Wan telling Jango about how he became a Padawan on Bandomeer, and Jango telling him about his childhood farm on Concord Dawn.

Obi-Wan shook himself and took another breath of fresh air.

They would stay for Jango’s coronation and for the beginnings of a likely treaty – Jango had hinted as much when they’d talked the night before – and then, he and his Master would leave as they always left.

It was just another mission.

Obi-Wan shivered.

It didn’t feel like just another mission.

His Master swept into the living space of their suite from the room he had commandeered the day before.  It was the first time Obi-Wan had seen Qui-Gon since the older Jedi had left him to meditate his headache away.  He had already been in bed when Obi-Wan had returned to the rooms.

“Master,” Obi-Wan sketched a bow.  “Did you sleep well?”

“Adequately,” Qui-Gon said.  He peered at Obi-Wan.  “If you did not meditate enough to handle today’s events, I shall make appropriate excuses for your continued absence.”

Obi-Wan tried not to bristle at the implication he had failed to meditate sufficiently. “I am much recovered, Master.”

He knew he should explain about the garden, about meeting Jango, but something kept him silent.

Qui-Gon’s brow creased in a frown.  “Very well.  Let us go to the early meal they have prepared for us.”

Obi-Wan fell into his usual position just a step behind Qui-Gon as they left the suite.  Obi-Wan nodded to their guard who followed them along the wide corridor to a dining room at the end.  He surmised that Qui-Gon and the others must have dined there the night before.

A buffet had been set out with an array of foods on one wall. 

Senator Antilles and his aide were already at the table in the centre, digging into their meals.

Obi-Wan followed his Master to the buffet and then to the table.  He listened as his Master and Antilles discussed the previous evening’s dinner fare – apparently it had been quite spicy – and the day’s itinerary.  Senator Palpatine joined them as the topic turned to the coronation, Pol Typhon trailing dutifully in his wake.

Obi-Wan finished his light meal of fruit and a corn-like pancake, all washed away with a mildly spiced tea well before the others at the table.  He sat listening to the conversation. 

He hid his frown when Palpatine was subtly derogatory about the Mandalorian hospitality, sniffing over the wait to meet the Mand’alor, all while pretending a smiling demeanour that invited everyone to believe Palpatine was a simple harmless man. 

At least, Antilles diplomatically countered his older colleague’s negatively meant assertions with his own praise and views. 

Qui-Gon remained firmly silent, agreeing with neither Senator.  He simply smiled benignly.  Obi-Wan followed his example until the meal was over.     

After that, it was as though time sped up.

A return visit to their rooms to finish getting ready, being ushered along a maze of corridors to the public chambers of the palace, the growing awareness of the crowds gathering outside in celebration, and…

The double doors in front of them opened.

The throne room was large.

Each side held an audience of Mandalorians, some in armour and some not.  Near the doors it was standing room only, but the sides closest to the elevated platform at the front where the throne was positioned were seated.

Obi-Wan controlled his breathing and heartbeat as they approached the throne.  Something raised the hairs on the back of his neck.  The Force swirled around him.

Jango sat in the carved wooden chair with his buy’ce perched on one arm of it, his wolffe at his feet.  He nodded at them as they all gave a short respectful bow of their heads.

“Olarom, Senators and Jetiise,” Jango said.  “Be welcome to Manda’yaim.  I am Jango Fett, Clan Mereel; the Mand’alor.”

Obi-Wan felt the bristling indignation of Palpatine before he squashed it behind a benign smile.  Antilles didn’t bother hiding his own smug satisfaction and Obi-Wan figured the young Senator had also joined the dots on the information they’d had.

“We thank you for the invitation, Mand’alor,” Palpatine said gushingly.  “We are honoured to bear witness to your coronation and to re-establish a relationship between our two…”

A warning sounded in the Force and…

Typhon pushed her Senator to the side, tossing him to the floor so she could position herself better to…

Something blossomed inside of him and Obi-Wan moved.

He grabbed Typhon’s wrist before they could throw the vibroblade. He twisted even as they kicked out.  He brought the arm sharply down against the hard surface of his leg.  Typhon dropped the knife and…

Obi-Wan slapped a hand to her face.  “Sleep.”

She dropped to the floor.

Danger.

Obi-Wan looked up to find Qui-Gon attacking Jango…

Qui-Gon was attacking Jango.

The guards appeared to be frozen – straining against an invisible barrier.

Obi-Wan’s lightsabre shot into his hand as he ran forward.

He flipped over Qui-Gon and landed beside Jango who was deflecting the lightsabre with his beskar vambraces.  He looked askance at his Master who looked completely blank-faced, hard determination glinting in his eyes as he relentlessly attacked.

Qui-Gon’s lightsabre flashed out once more aiming for Jango’s head and Obi-Wan’s blade caught it.

Jango’s fist lashed out and smacked into Qui-Gon’s face.

There was a ripple of something that Obi-Wan felt and a flicker in Qui-Gon’s eyes of confusion before he started forward again and…

Obi-Wan pushed him back with the Force. “Master!  Please!  This isn’t you!”

Qui-Gon lashed out with his lightsabre and Obi-Wan deflected the blow away.  Jango was beside him as Qui-Gon continued to deliver blow after blow.  Obi-Wan and Jango danced around him, fighting together as though they had done it for years, until…

“Use my strength, ner runi.”

Jango’s voice sounded in his head and he held out his hand.

Obi-Wan took it.  Power surged through him, akin to the Force but not the Force, and Obi-Wan reached out and simply extinguished Qui-Gon’s blade.  He reached through the thin bond they shared and swept through Qui-Gon’s mind, realising…

“Something is trapping him!  Controlling him!” Obi-Wan said.

Jango’s eyes narrowed and he pointed.  “There!”

A pendant Obi-Wan had never seen his Master wear before glinted against his robes.

Qui-Gon surged forward…

Obi-Wan seized control of Qui-Gon’s body in the Force…

…and Jango tore the pendant from Qui-Gon, dropping it to the floor in disgust.  Obi-Wan stabbed it with his lightsabre and it exploded in a shower of black light forcing them back.

Everyone came to life around them.

Qui-Gon’s mind shivered under Obi-Wan’s mental hold before an overwhelming sense of pain swept through and blackness followed. 

Obi-Wan withdrew swiftly and physically lowered his unconscious Master to the floor of the throne room.

Suddenly everyone surged toward them.

Jango’s hand tightened around Obi-Wan and he reached forward to cup Obi-Wan’s cheek tenderly.  “Are you well, cyar’ika?”

His concern and affection blanketed Obi-Wan psychically. 

“I don’t know,” Obi-Wan said, almost overwhelmed with the depth of connection he could feel with Jango.

It felt right.

Like he had been waiting for Jango all his life.

He was so confused.

“Jango!”

Jango shifted away and accepted a hug from a worried older man.  “I am fine, buir.” He reached back to take hold of Obi-Wan’s hand again and tugged him forward.  “Obi-Wan, this is Jaster, my buir.  Buir, this is Obi-Wan, ner runi.”

“Stop crowding in!  Everyone back to their seats!”

Obi-Wan recognised the sharp voice of his guard from the previous night. 

Arla pushed the crowd back and stooped by Qui-Gon’s prone body.  “He’s out cold.”

Obi-Wan frowned.  “The pendant was controlling his mind.”  He crouched down to get a better look and lifted to eye level with a wave of his hand.  He grimaced at the etching on the black surface.  “Sith.”

A murmur went through the crowd around them.  Sith magic explained why they had been frozen and unable to help.

“Surely not!” Palpatine’s shocked tone sounded across the floor.

Obi-Wan looked over to find the older Senator sat on a chair, one hand holding his other clearly broken arm to his front.  Antilles and Organa hovered protectively beside him.

“Does Aide Typhon have a similar pendant?” asked Obi-Wan, focusing on the assassination attempt.

Another Mandalorian crouched beside her.  He looked up.  “No pendant and…she’s dead.”

Obi-Wan’s eyes widened.  “No, I just…I put her to sleep!”

“Assassins often take their own lives rather than get caught,” Arla said tersely.  “The guards said she was playing sabacc with Qui-Gon after dinner.  If this was her plan…”

“If this was her plan, it failed!” Jango growled.  He swept an arm out to gesture to the crowd.  “Mando’ade!  Today is a good day!  Today, the Sith plotted to assassinate your Mand’alor and failed!  They plotted to create strife between the Jetiise and Mandalore!  To create another rift between the Republic and Mandalore!  But they failed!”

“Oya!” came the roar from the crowd.

“Today, our Mand’alor found his runi, his riduur,” Jaster shouted out beside Jango.  “We crown them both!  We swear to both!”

Obi-Wan looked frantically at Jango. 

Jango looked confidently back at him.  “You are my Guide, Obi-Wan,” he said softly.  “I am your Sentinel.”

The truth of it rang in the Force, in the Manda.

There was a moment where Obi-Wan grieved for the path of the Jedi he would not travel. 

But then Jango squeezed his hand, the hand he was still holding because he had never let go of Obi-Wan. 

Obi-Wan swiftly nodded his agreement.  He was Jango’s Guide; Jango was his Sentinel.

And Jango kissed him as the Mandalorian cheers filled the room.

o-O-o

Jango followed his wolffe down the path to the brook.  He wasn’t surprised Obi-Wan had sought refuge in their garden after saying goodbye to his former Master.  The garden was special to them.  They’d sworn their vows to each other beside the brook before the rescheduled coronation where Obi-Wan had been the first to swear the Resol’nare to Jango.

According to Arla, Obi-Wan had eschewed even entering the palace, making straight for the garden from the hangar.

His eyes quickly sought his Guide and frowned at the sight of Obi-Wan hunched over, his face hidden in his hands.  His Padawan braid was missing, but Jango was pleased to see the silver hilt of Obi-Wan’s lightsaber beside him.

Jango sat on the bench and drew Obi-Wan to his side.  He was pleased when his Guide leant into him further, burrowing into Jango as though he could climb into his armour.

Eventually, Obi-Wan sniffed and eased away from him.  He swiped at his cheeks.  “Ni ceta.”

“Nyac,” Jango said softly.  “I am the one sorry I could not be beside you when you said your goodbyes.”

“Probably better you weren’t,” Obi-Wan said dryly.  “You might have punched my Master again.”

Jango huffed.  He’d been very tempted to punch Jinn several times in the past week since the coronation. 

Jinn had regained consciousness with no memory of anything after the dinner he had eaten the first night on Mandalore. 

He’d been almost as useless to the investigation as Palpatine who had certainly seemed completely bamboozled by his aide turning out to be a Sith acolyte in hiding.  Arla had theorised that Typhon had tricked Jinn into wearing the pendant during their sabacc match.  There were a lot of unanswered questions, not least why if Typhon had set-up Jinn she had tried to attack herself, why she had died after being rendered unconscious.  Still, the knowledge that the Sith had tried to create trouble, had considered Jango enough of a threat to eliminate him, had helped unite the clans even more behind their Mand’alor.

Jinn had been horrified to find out his Padawan had emerged as an Alpha Guide, as the soul partner to the Mand’alor.  He had tried to guilt Obi-Wan into returning to the Jetiise several times.  It wouldn’t surprise Jango if Jinn had tried it again.  He repressed a sigh.  He knew Jinn cared for Obi-Wan but the older Jetii had a strange way of showing that care at times.

“I know this has been overwhelming,” Jango said.  “But you are my heart, Obi-Wan.  My riduur.”

“I don’t regret staying here,” Obi-Wan said, raising his head to look at Jango with clear blue-eyes.  “I don’t regret staying with you.”  He reached forward and gently, sweetly kissed Jango’s lips before he eased away only to rest their foreheads together.

Obi-Wan shivered.

Jango tucked him closer and sent him a silent pulse of query.

Obi-Wan sighed as he eased away to look into Jango’s eyes.  “I was just thinking about the Sith.”

A threat dangerous enough in their re-emergence for a Jedi to manifest as a Guide for the first time, and not just a Guide, but an Alpha Guide to the Mand’alor.

Jango held his Guide closer.  “We will face them together, cyar’ika.”

There was a reason why his people, why Sentinels and Guides were so feared, and Obi-Wan…Obi-Wan was a gift from the Manda.  

“Yes,” Obi-Wan said, his voice resonating with bravery and determination.  “Together.”

They settled together, arms around one another, content to be together.  Across the brook, Obi-Wan’s cat snuggled with Jango’s wolffe.  They were where they were meant to be.

fin.