Chapter Text
Eldra Kaitis had heard stories about Mandalorians.
Every Jedi had, even those who were still in the creche had heard a scary story or two about the Mandalorians and what they did during the Mandalorian - Jedi war. They put jedi in coffins still living, and cut off their connection to the Force. They buried them in their beskar mine, where no Force could slip through the cracks and reach them.
For a Jedi, it was a fate far worse than dead. And that wasn’t even counting their terrible flame throwers the burned Jedi living, or the way they descended from the sky with their jetpacks like flocks of terrible birds, and carried away unsuspecting younglings.
Eldra, like most younglings, had been terrified of them for a time.
She was a youngling no longer.
Eldra was a Padawan now, under Master Finn Ertay, and she could not cower behind her master when the Mandalorians, in their terrible armor, came to them in the market place on Lothal.
Eldra tried to square her shoulders and make herself look bigger than her twelve years, but it was hard when she hadn’t had her growth spurt yet. She barely came up to Master Ertay’s elbow, and her soresu needed work and the Mandalorian had a blaster and-
Master Ertay touched her shoulder and sent a wave of calm through her. Eldra bowed her head. She was always a little more quick to worry than her age-mates, and a little faster to anger. She wasn’t as bad as Bruck Chun and Obi Wan Kenobi from Heliost Clan, who got in real fights sometimes. Eldra was a Bergruutfa before Master Ertay chose her as her padawan, nearly a year ago now.
Now the elder twi’lek kept herself between her Padawan and the approaching Mandalorian. Her lekku twitched subtly, a language only female twi’leks understood.
Don’t panic. It said clearly.
Eldra tried to obey.
She touched her padawan braid, tracing the smooth beed at the bottom.
The Mandalorians stopped in front of them. They seemed so big up close, their armor shining in the sunlight. One of them was painted pale grey with stripes of orange along the arms and legs. The other one, a woman, was in silver and yellow, with little diamonds down the cheeks under both sides of her visor.
She was the one who held her hands up, placating.
“Forgive us,” she said in heavily accented basic. “We did not see the child.”
Eldra bristled. She wasn’t a child! She was a Padawan Learner, half a Jedi herself! And she was almost thirteen!
Master Ertay’s lekky twitched again. Eldra bit her tongue, her blue cheeks flushing faintly purple. She was a Padawan. So she shouldn’t be so proud that she got ruffled like that.
“I am not sure what I am forgiving you for,” Master Ertay tilted her head, sending one long green lek spilling across her shoulder. The other Mandalorian, a big man, tilted his visor towards her before it went to one of the nearby stalls.
“We were looking for a Jedi without a daughter or son,” the lady said.
Eldra startled.
Master Ertay looked confused. “A Padawan?” she clarified.
The Mandalorian woman nodded. “Yes. Padawan. Your children.”
They weren’t… wrong, necessarily. Padawan’s were children of the Force, and the future of the Jedi, but they weren’t son’s or daughters like most beings meant.
“What does my Padawan have to do with your business with me?” Master Ertay finally asked, shaking her head faintly, making her lekku wave. The little diamonds at the bottom of each one were a green so dark they were almost black.
“We look for a jedi without one,” the woman explained. “Have you seen any?”
Eldra looked to her master, who seemed just as confused. “I’m sure there are several, though we are the only Jedi on Lothal currently.”
The big man’s shoulders fell.
“I see,” said the woman. “Then we thank you. Goodbye.”
She gave a very strange knock off of a Jedi bow and the two left before either twi’lek could ask further questions.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Fy-Tor-Ana was a Jedi Master. She was used to strange things happening, and she was used to fighting as well. As the Master in charge of training Initiates in the Art of Movement, and overseeing their progress in balance and agility.
It was those same initiates that she was here on behalf of, gathering new materials for their obstacle course.
She doubted they would appreciate the new firewheel she was adding to it, but in the end they would be stronger for it. She hadn’t been intending on getting the cage of colorful birds too, but they’d caught her eye and given her a burst of inspiration.
Fy-Tor-Ana wasn’t expecting to run into a Mandalorian. She definitely wasn’t expecting him to try to get her to come to his ship with him. The crooked sword he’d pulled had been interesting, and it blocked her lightsaber. The armor meant that if she punched him it would hurt, but it also meant that he wasn’t as flexible as her, so Fy-Tor-Ana resorted to quick grappling and using his weight against him.
The end result was Fy-Tor-Ana sitting lightly on his chest while he stared at up at her through his visor.
“So,” she said slowly, looking down at him. “Why did you want me in your ship?”
“Do you have a kid?” he asked instead, throwing her for a proper loop.
“Uh. Hah?”
“A kid. A Padawan. Do you have one? Do you want one?”
“... I teach the Art of Movement at the temple. So if you want to get specific I have about eighty students or more. Ones that I need to get back to now. I was picking up supplies for our next lesson.”
“Ah,” he seemed to deflate. “The Art of Movement, what is that?”
Fy-Tor-Ana considered not telling him. Why would she? But there really wasn’t any harm to it.
“The Art of Movement is training that Jedi undergo to increase flexibility, agility, and speed. It’s abit like dancing through an obstacle course.”
“Is that how you did that twisting thing with my arm?”
“It is,” she looked amused. “Any other questions?”
“Yeah. Are you sure you don’t wanna come back to my ship? Jedi aren’t like, celibate right?”
Heat flushed under Fy-Tor-Ana’s cheeks. She gaped at him, stunned. He couldn't be serious!
Except he was. He even pulled his helmet off to shoot her a crooked smile, one twisted by a scar that shot from the corner of his mouth to his right ear, where it disappeared into messy red hair.
“If you’re interested. I’m Amon.”
She picked herself off of him slowly. He was taller than she by a good half a head, and with the helmet gone she could feel nothing but sincerity from him. And uh, something a bit more interesting.
“I’m Fy-Tor-Ana,” she said at last. “And I suppose the younglings won’t miss me if I’m a little late.”
He absolutely beamed at her and bounced to his feet, picking up the discarded sword and turned to her with good cheer.
“This way then, Master Fy-Tor-Ana.”
“You can call me Ana, since we’ll get to know eachother better.”
She needed to know more about why he was asking about students. And she would certainly be telling the council when she returned to Coruscant, but a few hours delay wouldn’t hurt anything.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
There was a wildness in Komari Vosa that Qui Gon found disconcerting.
She was brilliant with a lightsaber, still only a Padawan she was on even footing with most Masters. She was agile, quick, and clever, and each move she made counted. Qui Gon could see their Master in every inch of her swordplay.
She was also quick to anger, and far too attached to Master Dooku.
It had been something that could have been overlooked before. A little crush on ones Master wasn’t unheard of, and it would have been gently dissuaded in time. This was more than puppy love though.
She had hardly left his bedside since he’d been brought back from Galidraan, having taken the most damage out of all of the task force. Master Che had put him in a small medical coma while he healed, not damaged enough for a tank but in rough enough shape to be unconscious for weeks after the incident.
Qui Gon was not there when he woke up, nor did he visit them while he was unconscious. His Master would be fine, the Force assured him, even if his Sister-Padawan didn’t have as much faith.
So it was a surprise when Qui Gon found Dooku and Komari on their way to the Temple hanger bay, both of them carrying the small packs that signalled an extended mission was on its way.
“Master,” Qui Gon offered a smile at him and a shallow bow, one that both of them returned.
“Qui Gon. Hello,” Dooku looked him over. “It is good to see you in the temple.”
“Yes,” he agreed with some reluctance. He didn’t particularly enjoy his ‘grounding’ from the Council. They hadn’t put it in quite so many words, but that was what it was. A grounding, from missions or even study outside the temple anymore. It was irritating. Not that he got irritated. He was a Jedi, after all, and the Force guided him. As soon as he could convince the Mind Healers to clear him.
He was, perhaps not fine, he was grieving, but they couldn't help him with that. What he needed to do was get back into the field and find Initiate Kenobi so he could bring him home. The Force wanted the boy to be a Jedi, he could see that clearly without the dark child in clouding it around him anymore.
The child was a threat that needed to be addressed, one that the Council had said nothing about.
“You were going somewhere?” he asked lightly. “Have they sent you on a mission so soon?”
Komari shook her head while Dooku merely inclined his head towards him.
“One of our own volition. Galidraan was a trap. We intend to uncover more about what happened there.”
“There were other missions with faulty information,” Komari added, though the despairing look Dooku shot her implied that she wasn’t supposed to say as much. It was curious though. He hadn’t heard much about an uptick in missions gone bad. Perhaps he should have spoken more with Tahl, but she was preparing for an upcoming mission herself, a diplomatic one, and she had been in the library for the last week entirely researching a civil war that had gone on for entire generations.
“We are double checking our sources,” Dooku said firmly. “Galidraan was not the only incident, this is true. Your own trip to Bandomeer was much the same.”
It was all Qui Gon could do not to wince. He tried to keep his expression serene.
“Perhaps. It revealed the dark child to me, and put me in the path of a peculiar Mandalorian. It was the will of the Force.”
Dooku’s mouth thinned.
“Perhaps,” he parroted. “We must be off. Komari, time is of the essence. Let us go.”
“Yes!” She said, her blue eyes bright. She bowed quickly to Qui Gon. “Farewell, Master!”
“Safe travels, Padawan,” he nodded to her. As she went scampering after their Master, he tried to figure out why in the world she was still allowed to be his Padawan. Her conduct was unacceptable. She was possessed with emotion and attachment, and she was dangerously aggressive no matter her talent.
She should have been expelled by now.
Qui Gon let them go.
It was not his choice. They would see in time.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Maul was a creature of darkness. He was a being made of death and destruction. The shadows were his home.
So he was not a fan, at all, of the sunlight that warmed his skin and glared at him from on top of the white snow that greeted them on Concord Dawn.
Behind him Savage muffled a gasp, and Feral cried out in delight.
Maul pulled his hood tighter over his head while the rest of their too-big pack tumbled out into the snow after Jango.
He, Kenobi, Savage, and Feral followed him in a line, each carrying one creature. Ahsoka was still Maul’s, with her bent tail and torn ear, but Ezra had taken a liking to Savage and Ben had attached himself completely to Feral.
Maul tried not to be jealous.
They approached a military camp. Mandalorian moved quickly around it, pitching temporary tents and setting up more sturdy buildings. Everything was set to a very detailed plan that Maul couldn’t see yet, but it seemed like a grid.
Maul was well aware of the fact that every single Mandalorian turned to look at them as they walked past. Maul didn’t exactly blame them, being that it wasn’t every day that one Mandalorian came back after an extended trip with four younglings and just as many animals at his heels. Or he didn’t think so. It certainly hadn’t happened at the Death Watch.
Of course, Death Watch hadn’t had any children running around their facilities at all.
Maul peered around at them as they went. There was a mess tent already set up, where Mandalorians were cooking something that smelled spicy enough to burn. There was a medical tent, where someone was cussing loudly while their bones were set into place and an Armorer present at a corner, looking over someone’s vambrace. What Maul knew about Mandalorian indicated that few commanded as much respect as a proper Armorer, who knew the long guarded secrets of refining beskar properly.
All of them were very interested in their group. How much had Jango told them of what ha transpired after he picked him up? Did they know about the pirates? The miners? Xanatos?
Did they know about the future that Maul ‘saw’?
They came to a halt in front a tent that had already been pitched and Jango let them inside.
They weren’t the only ones there. There were two other Mandalorians waiting for them inside, two human men.
When they caught sight of them they grinned hugely.
“There he is!” One of them laughed, and slapped Jango hard on the shoulder while grasping his forearm.
“We were starting to think you’d finally gotten sick of us,” the other added, repeating the gesture.
“Not yet. As much fun as it was being a simple man just making his way through the galaxy, I figured I better come back. Silas, Myles, these are the boys I was telling you about.”
Jango turned to show them the four young Force Sensitives. Three Zabrak and one human looked back them, with varying levels of wariness. The most Maul feared from them at this point was having his brothers forcibly adopted by other Mandalorians, but he wasn’t all that worried about that even. Jango had made his intentions clear, and Maul’s choice in the matter was just as obvious.
“Hello,” Kenobi said with a polite little bow. He was certainly the most nervous. He kept looking like he was waiting for someone to pick a fight with him. What did they teach him at the Jedi Temple that he thought Mandalorians would fight a child?
Silas looked delighted. “Aw, hello little one. Welcome to Haat’ade’s temporary base. We’re glad to have you here. And I am glad to be getting my ship back,” he shot Jango a pointed look. Jango elbowed him in the shoulder for his trouble, for all the good that did.
“Hello,” Kenobi said again, offering him a shy smile. Silas positively beamed at him.
Maul rolled his eyes privately. If he didn’t know any better (and how disgusting was it that he did?) he might think that Kenobi was doing it on purpose; trying to get on the good side of these Mandalorians. Unfortunately, he knew all to well that Kenobi wasn’t that cunning, or that good of an actor. He really was that polite, and an adorable human child. Even Maul could recognize that. Time in the sun, away from the Temple, meant that he had a generous smattering of boyish freckles now.
“So you’re the little jetii’ad?” Myles asked, looking him over. “I wouldn’t have guessed. You don’t look like a magic wizard of a warrior.”
“I’m not?” Kenobi looked bewildered. “I’m a jedi. We aren’t warriors.”
Mandalorians and Nightbrothers stared at him like he’d grown a second head.
“What?” He crossed his arms and hunched his shoulders. “We aren’t!”
He really thought that too. How very weird.
“...Alright,” Myles finally shrugged, apparently not willing to fight a boy over whether or not he a was a priest or a fighter.
“Anyways,” Jango drew their attention back to himself. It happened as easy as breathing. Maul hadn’t noticed it before, but Jango wore commande like he wore his cape.
“There’s other things we need to take care of. I need a list of supplies, requisition forms from clans, and I need to know what the latest drama is, and any movement from the Kyr’tsad we’ve been tracking.”
“Right,” Myles nodded once to him. Jango turned to the boys.
“There’s more, too,” he came before them and knelt, his focus on the Opress brothers. “Maul. I made that offer some time ago. I know you will have a conclusion now. It still extends to your brothers. What will it be? Will you let me adopt you, and welcome you into Clan Fett?”
Maul considered Jango carefully.
He had been thinking about it, tactically and personally, for a long time now. When they’d finally picked up his brothers he had talked with them about the possibility as well. None of them knew their father, for he was long dead, and Kycina was the only parent they’d ever had. For Nightbrother’s it wasn’t the mother or the father that mattered. It was the brothers born from them. They were raised communally, by the entire village, under the leadership of Brother Victus. He was a powerful warrior, and was kept alive by the will of Mother Talzin, who wanted him for more than just his breeding capabilities. He was left to teach the next generation and raise the young into warriors to be proud of.
He was as close to a father as any in the village knew, and he was the eldest brothers.
So it wasn’t as if Jango was offering to replace someone they’d never known, or fill a void that didn’t exist. No such think existed in any of the three of them.
They’d talked about it, when they were done discussing the fact that they were now truly free from the Nightsisters.
Maul stood before the other two, his shoulders set with certainty.
“We have decided. We will accept your offer.”
Jango positively grinned, his brown eyes gone soft with a fondness that made Maul ache and chaff at the same time. He placed both hands on Maul’s shoulders and the hood knocked back, baring him for all to see.
“ Ni kyr'tayl gai sa'ad , Maul, Savage, and Feral.” The Force swirled around them with the words, twisting and drawing a piece of Maul he hadn’t even known existed from somewhere deep in his chest. It wasn’t Dark, or Light, it simply was a new absolute truth to the universe.
It was enough to make Maul sway, until his forehead touched Jango’s chest plate. Even through the beskar he could feel the waves of warm affection that rolled out from him towards the boys.
A gloved hand touched the back of his head, rubbing gently between his horns.
“There. It’s done. You’re my son’s now, in law and in spirit.”
“And now the Haat’ade have three Alor’ad to look after,” Silas added, amused.
For a second Maul thought he meant a captain, or a second in command, or something similar, before something else dawned on him. He jerked his head around to Silas, who in turn looked to Jango, who didn’t look nearly as chagrined as he should have.
“You didn’t tell the kids who you were?”
“What?” Jango asked, “The Mand’alor?
Maul stared up at Jango, his mouth hanging open.
“What do you mean you’re the Mand’alor?! ”