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Obi-Wan was nervous as he followed his new master towards the council chamber. It had been some time since he had last had to stand before the Masters who made up the High Council, and he wasn’t convinced that they wouldn’t judge him the moment he stepped inside. (Well, except Master Koon. He was both friendly and supportive of Obi-Wan.)

None of them were impressed with him. They hadn’t wanted to welcome him back into the Order at all, but his new master had been stubborn.

Obi-Wan had been the padawan to a reluctant master. Qui-Gon Jinn had rejected him before giving in after the boy had helped him with a mission. The man likely felt indebted to him or something. At first, he had been excited. Eager to learn. But it quickly became clear that Jinn had remained disinterested in actually teaching him anything. Doing the bare minimum while in temple, and often leaving Obi-Wan behind on his ship when out on a mission. That was, until Melida/Daan.

The war-torn planet had been far too dangerous to leave his young padawan alone, even on the ship. And the world Obi-Wan stepped out into had been horrifying. Death and darkness choked the planet, and children from both sides had deserted and come together to form a third faction, the Young, aiming to end the war. The adults, the Elders, hadn’t thought twice about turning their blasters on their own children. The Young had helped the Jedi with their mission, only asking for help in bringing peace in exchange for that help. And Jinn had refused. Obi-Wan insisted that helping bring peace was the right thing to do, and—Jinn had left him. Abandoned him there. Just one more lone child forced to learn to shoot a blaster well enough to stay alive on such an unforgiving planet.

Jedi Knight Feemor had been horrified when news reached him of what had happened. At least Jinn’s version of it. But Feemor had also been a padawan of Jinn. One who had been hurt and repudiated, who knew first hand how Jinn tended to twist the truth in his debriefings. He didn’t believe that a thirteen year old boy would pitch a fit and demand to leave the Order just so he could stay with a young girl. It had been some time since he was thirteen, but he was pretty sure human and near human boys that age were still thinking girls had cooties. Plus the boy in question had been one of the more passionate about his dream of becoming a Jedi Knight. Needless to say, Feemor didn’t trust the story he’d heard, and he’d taken off to investigate it himself.

What he found had been horrifying. He wished he had heard sooner. The young boy had already spent six months on the war torn planet, and it had taken its toll on him the same way it had the other children. It took time for Feemor to build trust with the Young, but once he had, he helped do what Jinn had refused to do. Helping the Young end the war and set them up with the resources to rebuild. Then he finally bundled the traumatized and discarded padawan up and brought him back to the temple, marching in already fighting to claim Obi-Wan as his own padawan. It took time, but finally he got the Council to agree to the match, and Feemor was able to get Obi-Wan to see the temple mind healers while also nursing him back to proper health physically. 

After he recovered enough, he was able to return to classes and training. Feemor was a much better teacher. Eager to help Obi-Wan learn, quick to praise his accomplishments, but also stern enough to ensure he learned from his mistakes.

He also had asked Obi-Wan to explore all the lightsaber forms before choosing one to learn as his main form, unlike Jinn who would only teach his own preferred form. 

It had been a year, and Obi-Wan was thriving, though the two had yet to be sent out on any missions.

Until now.

“Easy, Padawan mine, no need to be nervous.” Feemor soothed, placing a comforting hand on Obi-Wan’s shoulder.

“Sorry.” he flushed. He must have been projecting. “It’s just that every time you go to ask about taking me on a mission they say I’m not ready for that responsibility.”

“They are prolonging your probation unnecessarily. But if they need to send me on a mission, then so long as I personally deem it at a level you can handle, then you will be accompanying me. Bringing you with me to the briefing will make that clear to them. You need mission experience, and I will not be a master who would hinder your path to knighthood.”

“I know you wouldn’t.” Obi-Wan confessed, because he truly did trust Feemor to do what was best for him during their time together as master and padawan. It still didn’t change the fact that the Council called the shots.

“Padawan,” Feemor turned more to stand directly in front of Obi-Wan, and he stooped down to press their foreheads together in an affectionate touch that had become common between them, “I know we have both been left behind by the man which has given us both complicated feelings over him, but I was Jinn’s padawan once. If anything, I did learn how to defy the Council when needed. I’ll be having the final say on if you stay here to attend your classes or if you pack your mission bag and follow me onto my ship.”

Obi-Wan’s lips twitched into a small smile before an amused sound broke free, “Okay.”

“Okay.” Feemor nodded, pulling back, “Now let's try to not be late.”

The two hurried on their way and finally stepped into the council chamber, coming to a stop in the middle of the room.

“Knight Feemor, we didn’t expect you to bring Padawan Kenobi.” Master Mundi spoke first.

“Is it not my job as his master to decide these things?”

“You don’t know the mission, yet. Padawan Learners don’t normally attend briefings in the same way a Senior Padawan would.”

“While that is true, Master Mundi, I have adapted my methods to what Obi’Wan’s mind healer has recommended.”

“His mind healers have not said anything to the council about this.”

“All due respect, Master, but the Council is not his teacher, I am. You receive updates on if he’s been cleared by them for missions or not, not any details.”

“This council doesn’t agree with that assessment.”

“Well I do not agree with the Council’s assessment over his mind healer’s. They work closely with Obi-Wan, you watch from afar. I trust them and myself in making this choice. You will have to trust my judgment on my Padawan’s progress, or you will have to choose someone else for this mission and keep us both temple-bound. But Obi-Wan is sixteen. He’s missing out on valuable experience, which only served to delay his eventual knighting, which isn’t fair to him.”

“This council doesn’t mean to hold him back, but this isn't a good first mission for him after the trauma of his time away from the Order’s protection and guidance.”

“I’ll be the judge of that. If I agree, then I will leave him here to continue attending his classes and set him up with someone for him to go to should he need help he’d normally come to me for.”

Master Yoda cut in with a resigned sigh, “Unadvised this is, but trust we will place in you. Best suited for this mission, you are.”

“The Senate has requested us to send aid to Galidraan.” Master Koon spoke, “Their reports are alarming enough that we’d normally do so without second thought, however the Force urges caution, and given a particular part of our Order’s history, we are inclined to listen to it over the reports.”

“The Governor of Galidraan has reported that a small army of Mandalorians have been terrorizing his people, killing even children. We are working on putting together a group of available Jedi to take care of it, but we want to send you first to make your own report on the situation.” Master Fisto added. “Given the already strained history between Jedi and Mandalorians, we need to ensure we do not make a mistake here. And you’re reported to be on good terms with some Mandalorians you have met.”

“I understand.” Feemor nodded.

“You also understand why this is not a good mission for Padawan Kenobi.” Mundi spoke up again.

“I will take everything into account when making my decision regarding Obi-Wan.” Feemor reassured the Council.

The council finished giving Feemor all the information they had that he would need for his mission before dismissing them. Feemor waited until they were both back in the privacy of their own rooms before sitting Obi-Wan down with a sigh.

“How are you feeling about this particular mission after hearing the brief?” he asked.

Obi-Wan shrugged, “I understand their hesitation if this army is shooting at kids…”

Feemor hummed an agreement before sighing, “I can’t say for sure if that’s the case or not. This mission is to double check the reports and make a more accurate one before any real action is taken. I know the Mandalorians I’ve met would never harm children, but Mandalore is fractured, and one of the factions are known terrorists, though I’m pretty sure I heard that they kidnap children rather than kill them. I’d be willing to bet that, if these are Mandalorians on Galidraan, that at worse children are simply disappearing. But I want you to meditate on if you truly are ready to risk seeing that the reports are accurate, or not if you are wanting to go with me. And if you do go and change your mind, you can always stay on the ship until I know the situation.”

Obi-Wan nodded, “Yes, Master.”

Jango sighed in frustration as he shoved his datapad away towards the center of the table and leaned back in his chair, “This is stupid.”

“No it isn’t.” His sister, Arla, said from the galley of their ship, the smell of caff telling him she was pouring herself a mug.

“Yes it is! I want to become a beroya. I’ll have no use for this stuff!”

“As Jas’buir would have reminded you, we learn the past to help our future. History lessons are never stupid.”

“Jas’buir was a nerd.”

“Yes, but that fact doesn’t make him wrong.” she said, walking over to the table to sit down across from him, setting down a little bowl of  hot oats for Jango to eat.

“Besides,” Arla continued, “I’m going easy on you. Jas’buir would have been much more heavy handed in your history learning modules if he were still here. I know mine were when I was your age.”

Jango sighed. He knew that. Truthfully he was more upset that he didn’t get to learn this stuff from their adoptive buir. Jaster had a way of telling history that made it so exciting. But he’d been betrayed and was taken from them, leaving Arla to step into his shoes as Mand’alor at only twenty, and to take over raising her younger brother. She was doing a good job these past three years, but they both still missed Jaster.

Jango grumbled and sat in silence as he glanced over the datapad full of his schooling and mindlessly ate his breakfast before finally getting up, “I need to go stretch my muscles or something.”

“Alright, but just remember you do need to finish this week’s lessons before Taungsday.”

“I know, it’s just the history stuff left.” Jango reassured her before leaving the ship, and stepping out into the snowy camp outside it.

The clearing they had claimed for their camp while on Galidraan was small. They had landed a few ships and shuttles, but most of the camp had to be comprised of tents. Jango was glad that he got to sleep in his bunk on a ship, rather than a cot in a tent. They were heated, but the chill of winter never truly left him when he was in a tent to warm up a bit.

His ship—well, Arla’s ship, was the designated war planning station where Arla met with her council and went over plans and other official things. The other larger ship was their medical center for their medic to drag their wounded to if need be. The rest of the areas were all makeshift shelters made of their tents and shuttles. Jango, being seventeen, was able to drift around helping out wherever he wanted. He was at a pretty free age. Old enough not to need a babysitter following him around all the time, but young enough not to have a rigid role to fill, and by the Manda, he was going to enjoy the level of freedom he had while he could!

He ducked into the mess tent and grabbed a uj'ayl roll before continuing back out to wander the camp, enjoying the sweet syrup covered roll as he went.

“What you got there, Jan’ika?” Kal called out from where he sat at one of the camp fires, checking over his weapons.

“Breakfast?”

Kal laughed, “Hope that’s not the only thing you’ve had for breakfast. Mij would have a fit.”

“Arla made me eat hot oats before I left the ship. This is just something to make up for the blandness.”

“Fair.”

Jango sat down next to Kal to watch him while he ate. Kal always felt like family to him. He had been Jaster’s third in command, and was Arla’s second. The man had big buir energy, though he hadn’t adopted any ade. Jango didn’t know why, but he didn’t ask, either.

Once Jango finished his treat and brushed the crumbs off his gloves, Kal took a blaster and handed it over to him to check over. Jango complied. It was good practice to be familiar with blaster models different from his own. Just in case he ends up liberating a new blaster in the heat of a mission gone wrong.

Together, they checked over and cleaned a few blasters each before Kal’s comm chimed and he answered it. 

“Skirata.”

“Su cuy'gar cyare.” an unfamiliar voice heavy with accent greeted. The sound of the voice made Kal perk up and smile.

“Mesh'la, It’s been far too long.”

“It has. Much has happened.” the voice responded.

Jango’s jaw dropped. Since when did Kal have a…a romantic…thing…with someone? He had always seemed to be a happily single guy.

“I can believe that. Much has happened on my end, too.”

“I have heard rumors that Kyr’tsad has been particularly troublesome, to put it lightly.”

“Understatement of the century.”

“I had wanted to reach out when I heard what happened on Korda VI, but my comms weren’t going through at all and then I got particularly busy with my own messes. I’m sorry for that.”

“Don’t be. When we started this we both knew that contact would be difficult at times.”

The voice hummed in agreement before sighing, “Unfortunately this call isn’t just for the absolute pleasure of hearing your voice, cyare.”

“Oh?”

“I don’t suppose you might be on Galidraan right now?”

“I…” Kal faltered and Jango raised an eyebrow, “I am, yes. How did you know?”

“I have a mission to make contact with a group of Mandalorians currently on Galidraan and figure out what the kark is going on down there. I’m currently in orbit.

“What do you mean what’s going on down here? It’s all been quite uneventful so far.”

“I’d prefer to have this conversation in person if I could get permission to land near your location?”

“Of course, Please hold while I run this by Mand’alor Fett.”

“I’ll be waiting.”

Kal muted the call and stood up. Jango hopped up to follow Kal to the ship where Arla was setting up for that morning’s meeting.

“Mand’alor.”

“Ooo, official sounding business if you aren’t calling me Alor’ika.” Arla teased, “What’s up?”

“My riduur is currently in orbit and is requesting permission to land near our camp. He seems to think something off is happening.”

Ala wrinkled her nose in thought, “You’re married?”

Kal blinked, “Yes, I thought you knew that.”

“I did not! When did that happen? What clan are they from? Wait, do you have secret ade, too? How could you keep your cute ade from me?”

Kal held up his hands, “Alor’ika, please. We have been married for years—Jaster himself witnessed our vows. They aren’t Mandalorian, so they are of my clan through marriage, and no, we have no ade, unless he’s picked one up recently, of course. Permission for him to land?”

“Of course, of course! I want to meet this riduur of yours!”

Kal nodded with a small smile that almost seemed shy.

He then unmuted the call. “Mesh’la?”

“Here.”

“You have permission to land. Sending the coordinates now.”

“Thank you, my dear. I look forward to seeing you again.”

Jango and Arla both trailed Kal outside towards the only spot big enough for another small ship to land and waited until a ship that could fit two comfortably, three or four if needed, lowered itself and settled, landing gear sinking into the snow. There was a pause and then the ramp began to lower and a man stood at the top of it. The man looked to be human, or near, and wore a fur-lined long coat—or robe? With some sturdy boots. The hood was pulled up, and a scarf was hiding his lower face.

“Fee’ika!” Kal ran forward, and the man did the same until they collided together in a hug, heads tilted in a Keldabe kiss.

“Ah, young love.” Arla cooed.

“Young? Arla, Kal is old enough to be our buir!”

“Shush you! I’m a romantic!”

“Could have fooled me with how you never go on dates.”

“Shush!” she said, giving him a sudden shove into a snow bank. 

The snow was fluffy enough that he sank right in and disappeared into a custom hole just for him. He sat up and sputtered, shaking snow out of his hair and digging it out of the neck of his clothes where some had gotten in due to his lack of helmet and neck guard—he only wore those when on an active mission, not while sitting in camp.

“That’s not very mature of you, Mand’alor!” Jango huffed out as he stook up and started knocking snow free from between his plates of armor.

“That was the act of an ori’vod, not the Mand’alor.” she smirked at him.

Jango huffed and threw a handful of snow at the side of her head. It landed, sticking to her thick blond hair.

“Jango!”

He laughed and turned his attention back to Kal and his riduur.

“So just to confirm, there is no blasterfire happening?” the riduur asked.

“No, none, unless you count verd taking part in some target practice.”

“Good, one moment.”

He pulled away from Kal and went back to the ship. After a short moment he reappeared, this time with a teenager at his side, wearing a very similar outfit, though the coat thing was blue rather than tan.

“Is that…an ad?” Kal asked.

The riduur blushed. “Yes, this is my padawan, Obi-Wan. Obi, this is my riduur, Kal.”

“Su cuy'gar.” the teen stated, a little slow, like he was new to learning the language and wasn’t quite sure he was saying the right thing. (To his credit, he was.)

Kal suddenly swept the teen up into his arms, hugging him close and making the teen squeak, “Ni kyr'tayl gai sa'ad!”

“What?”

Kal sat him down and grinned, “You can call me Buir.”

The teen’s—Obi-Wan’s, Jango had heard that introduction, and he should start adjusting his thoughts to represent that—eyes widened as he looked between Kal and the Riduur—who had not yet been introduced as having a name.

The nameless riduur chuckled and reached out to tug on a long braid of red hair that had fallen free from the furry hood protecting his head from the cold, “Our relationship in our culture translates to that of an adoptive parent and child in Mandalorian culture. As Kal is my husband, that gives him the right to also adopt you in his own culture, meaning that yes, he is your parent now. That’s why I made sure family terms were among the first you learned on the flight over here—just in case Kal was one of the Mandalorians reported to be here.”

Obi-Wan scowled, “And you didn’t feel like mentioning why those words were so important to learn before we landed?”

The man shrugged and smiled, “I told you I was married and not to worry, my husband would love you as his own.”

Obi-Wan groaned, “You decided to talk in riddles that would make the troll proud.”

“The important thing now is that you are here with aliit. I’ll have to see about getting you fitted for some armor.” Kal said.

“Armor?” Obi-Wan looked back over at the man he arrived with, “Wait, is that why you wear some armor under your robes? Because your husband gave them to you?”

“Yes, but don’t go telling the Council that detail. They’ll have a fit.”

“They don’t know?”

“Not that it was a wedding gift, and not that my husband is Mandalorian, no.”

“So they know you are married and they know you have connections with Mandalorians, but they don’t know those two are related?”

“Precisely. The troll has some very outdated opinions on Mandalorians I simply do not wish to be subjected to.”

Obi-Wan groaned and Kal slipped his arms around both of them to guide over to where Arla and Jango were standing. “Alor’ika’e, this is my riduur Feemor and our ad Obi-Wan. Mesh’la, Ob’ika, this is Mand’alor Arla Fett and her brother Jango.” Kal paused and then spoke again, “I should probably also inform you that they are Jetiise.”

“You married a Jetii?”

“I married a man who is as mandokarla as any verd here. The fact he is a Jetii is besides the point. And I suspect the ad my riduur has chosen for us is just as mandokarla.”

“He is. You should see my padawan with a blaster.” Feemor boasted, causing Obi-Wan to blush and duck his head in an enduring way.”

“Well, any aliit of Kal’s is welcome among my people.” Arla smiled, “Come, we’ll continue our discussion someplace where we are less likely to freeze our shebs off.”

Obi-Wan smiled as he chuckled, and Jango felt his heart stutter. Now that he was closer Jango could take in the cute scattering of freckles across pale pink cheeks and bright blue eyes that would rival the Concord Dawn sky on a midsummer’s day. He was cute, and his smile was like sunshine.

Oh .

Oh no.

If Arla found out he had a crush on Kal’s new ad, she’d never let him have a moment of peace again.

Mand’alor Fett had suggested they take their discussion to someplace more comfortable, and she walked alongside Feemor and Kal towards the Mandalorian camp, leaving Obi-Wan to trail behind them alongside her brother.

“So,” the fellow teenager said, something about his body language cluing Obi-Wan in on his nervousness, “You’re good with a blaster?

Obi-Wan nodded. Honestly, he was surprised at himself that he found comfort in target practice with a blaster. After the lingering effects of the trauma he experienced, he thought he’d never want to touch anything so connected to that time again, yet Feemor had approached him and encouraged him to practice with the weapon in a safe and controlled setting. It took him a while to actually try it, but once he did, it brought him a sense of security and a strange peacefulness comparable to what he feels in moving meditation. 

It also gave him the chance to spend more time with Quinlan, who was on the track of becoming a Jedi Shadow, so learning alternate weapons was a key part of his education. Shadows did a lot of undercover work. Their lightsabers were a last resort as it’d instantly break their cover. Quinlan had started teaching Obi-Wan some of the Shadow stuff he was learning. Like how to assemble an entire lightsaber in the blink of an eye should the situation get so dire as to need it. It was a fascinating skill Obi-Wan was still slow at, but Melida/Daan had taught him many things, and surprising skills could make the difference between a life saved, and a life cut short. So he unofficially began learning the tricks of the Shadows alongside his friend, as well as keeping up his skills with “uncivilized” weapons.

“I have a good enough shot, I guess.” 

Jango snorted in amusement, “I get the feeling you’re better than you imply.”

“I’m about to be surrounded by Mandalorians, I doubt my skills measure up.”

“Maybe we can test that theory, and if you’re right, I’ll personally give you some pointers.” Jango winked.

Obi-Wan stumbled over a root hidden under the snow. His cheeks were already red from the cold, but they heated up in a telling way, and he tugged his scarf up more to hide in.

“Maybe if there is time after business is taken care of.” he muttered.

“I’m sure there will be time. If anything, I think Kal will be wanting to keep his riduur close for a proper reunion—and he’ll want to take time to get to know you more so he can go home and boast about his ad properly like any buir would.”

“Yes, assuming things here go well and doesn’t turn to chaos. This likely isn’t a situation where we can just have one small chat and everything will be cleared up and fine. The Force still feels a bit tense.”

“I don’t know anything about your Force osik, but it can’t be that bad.”

Obi-Wan sighed, “Wait for the discussion to judge the situation, Jango. And, if what Master Feemor has told me is accurate, you should know at least something of the Force. Mando’a just calls it the Manda.”

Jango started at that, “Really? The Manda is what gives you Jedi your creepy abilities?”

He laughed and nodded, “It goes by many names; the Force, the Manda, Magic…but it is all the same thing. It touches everyone, affects everyone, interacts with everyone. Usually it’s little things, like somehow knowing to suddenly duck to narrowly dodge an attack you didn’t know was coming. It simply takes a certain level of sensitivity to it to allow us to interact with it so directly as the Jedi are known to do.”

Obi-Wan paused, looking at Jango’s armor before side-stepping a little closer, “May I?”

Confused Jango just nodded.

“The Force is also in and around everything.” he said, reaching out to touch Jango’s vambrace, “Did you know that beskar sings in the Force?”

Jango shrugged, “I’ve heard the phrase that beskar sings, but you’d have to ask a goran about that. I always assumed they meant the sound it makes while they are crafting it into armor or weapons. Or the chime it makes when you smack two pieces together just right. But the goran’e are very particular about who they will take as apprentices to learn the secrets of beskar, and I don’t have what it takes, I guess.”

Obi-Wan nodded, “That’s because they are your Force Sensitives. Beskar is similar to kyber, a precious crystal to the Jedi. They both sing in the Force and can build connections within the Force. Master Feemor explained some of it to me when I asked if Mandalorians had their own Force traditions and culture. He said that your blacksmiths—or goran’e were their Force Sensitive members who could learn to connect with beskar in the Force while crafting it, gently guiding it to be open to connecting with the individuals that would be wearing or wielding it. Armor that is connected to the person wearing it will be more effective in its protection of that person. And your beskar is very fond of you. I can hear it in its song.”

“I’ve heard that beskar hides us from the Jetiise.”

“That’s part of its protection. The way it sings in the Force can, from a distance, create a void in outside beings’ force senses. If you were to have your helmet on, you’d be hidden in the Force. It’s actually fascinating, and my master was right, I do want to learn as much as I can about it. It’s like kyber, yet kyber can’t do anything like this.”

“Do you have kyber?”

“I do. Kyber is the key thing Jedi use to build our lightsabers. Maybe I’ll show you mine later.” Obi-Wan blushed as he noticed how his master shot a fond look back at him. Their conversation hadn’t gone unnoticed, it seemed. What had gone unnoticed, at least by Obi-Wan, was the fact that they had made it to the camp, surrounded by tents and armored Mandalorians who were each glancing their way as they passed on the way towards one of the ships.

“Alor—are…are those Jetiise?” someone called out suddenly.

The Mand’alor paused her stride to look over at the group of mandos with the one who had spoken up, “The important detail to focus on is that this is Kal’s riduur and ad. They are welcome here, Jetiise or not.”

“Oya!” a bunch of voices responded—Obi-Wan didn’t know that term yet, but he guessed it was some sort of agreement or acceptance. No one protested further, and the looks tossed their way was more curious than wary.

Once they got onto the ship, the five of them all sat down around the table.

“Now, what exactly brought you two here?” the Mand’alor asked.

“Before I begin, I want you to know that I am by no means accusing your people here of anything. I’m only relaying the information that the Jedi Order received.” Feemor began, “It’s something I knew wouldn’t be possible if Kal’s people were the ones here, but it would be possible if it were Death Watch, from what I know of them. It’s why I tried contacting Kal before landing. I wasn’t about to expose Obi-Wan to Death Watch and their brand of violence if it turned out to be them.”

“Can’t blame you there.” Kal grunted.

“The Order was informed by the senate that they were contacted by the Governor of Galidraan with the claims that Mandalorians had landed on his planet and began terrorizing his people…including killing children.”

The three Mandalorians in the room bubbled with anger in the Force.

“The Council was instructed to send a large group of experienced Jedi to take out the threat. Luckily, the council remembered that I have a friendly connection to a Mandalorian, and they sent me ahead to gather our own intel on the situation. So I must ask why you are here.”

“We were hired by the Governor.” Mand’alor Fett said, pulling out a datapad and flipping through it until she brought up a contract to show the Jedi, “He wanted our help with some unruly protests he’d been experiencing that were getting out of hand. But since getting here we haven't actually seen anything that comes close to to his claims. We have walked the streets of his city, but have not done anything more than that so far. We figured the overly passionate protesters were intimidated by our presence alone, and were reeling themselves in.”

Master Feemor looked over the contract and when he was sure it was legit, he nodded and handed it back over to her, “So now the question is why would the Governor ask you here, only to then complain to the Senate that you are here. Obi?” 

When his master looked over at him, Obi-Wan shrugged, “I told you I had a bad feeling about this and that hasn’t changed at all, Master.”

“A bad feeling?” the Mand’alor asked, clearly confused.

“My padawan has a strong connection to the Cosmic force. It causes premonition and visions into possible futures. When someone strong in the Cosmic Force has a bad feeling it usually is a good indication that either something will go wrong or there is something dark lurking in the shadows that need to be uncovered.”

“Cyare, you could just say our ad’s a seer.” Kal chuckled, “Mandalore isn’t unfamiliar with such things.”

“I’m trying to undo the damage Obi-Wan’s last master did when it comes to his gifts in the Force by reminding him that they are exactly that whenever it comes up.”

“You’ll have to fill me in on that issue later, then.” Kal nodded, clearly upset by the implications. Which, fair. Obi-Wan had healed enough to know that Jinn hadn’t been a good teacher for him, and whether he meant it or not, he had hurt Obi-Wan.

“I think it’s time we had another little discussion with the Governor.” The Mand’alor decided, “and we all proceed from there.”

“I agree.” Feemor nodded.

“Kal, get a small escort squad together to join us just in case things go wrong. Jango, you’re staying here.”

“What? Why?”

“Because cowards who are backed into a corner will go for what they think they can cause the most damage in their favor. You’re still young and my brother. I don’t want him to think he can go after you to make me back down.”

Jango scoffed, “You’d kill him if he touched me.”

“Yes, but why give him the chance if the alternative can present him with a much less clear target. This isn’t because I doubt your skills, Jango, it’s to make things harder for him to try and get out of his corner.”

When Jango grumbled his acceptance, Feemor spoke up, “Why don’t you take the time to show Obi-Wan around and teach him some things about your culture? I’ll be leaving him here as well.”

Obi-Wan nodded immediately, quicker, apparently, to accept the decision of his guardian than Jango was. He didn’t mind being left behind. Unlike Jinn who made it a habit of leaving him behind alone in dire situations without care, Feemor had promised he would only leave him behind if he knew for sure Obi-Wan would be safe and if where Feemor was going either had no educational value, or was too dangerous to his physical or mental health. Seeing as the Mand’alor had Jango’s physical well-being in mind with her decision, he figured it was much the same for him. He was also young, and if the Governor lashed out, he’d be the target. And while he could handle himself just fine…well, suddenly having an adult pull a blaster on him over the adults in the room would probably have adverse effects on his mental health. He was finally able to be around unknown adults without low key panicking, but he was still working on things with his mind healer. Clearly Feemor was taking that into account and had decided he was not yet ready to test how Obi-Wan would react to such a possible event.

“Yes, Master.”

Beside him, Jango had also relaxed and seemed to be having a better idea on being left behind at camp, “Alright, I suppose I can show the Jetii’ad around.”

Jango’s cheeks were dusted with a slight blush, and while he had good shields for a Force null, he had let slip a glimpse or two of his clear attraction, which Obi-Wan had been quick to pick up on. Feemor had too as he had been quick to offer up the idea that the two teenagers spend the time together, specifically. Obi-Wan didn’t mind, either. Jango was rather handsome, himself. He’d be lying if he claimed he wasn’t attracted to him.

And hey, if Feemor was able to have a husband while still adhering to the Jedi Code and tending his duties, then there was no harm in letting himself get to know Jango in a way that may possibly end up as being more than friends…

And the long time Feemor and Kal had spent out of contact recently wasn’t the norm. It was simply bad luck with the timing of things on both their ends restricting their abilities to enjoy a call together during their downtimes. Feemor had said that it had just never lined up well enough for any really meaningful conversations. Once things settled a bit they’d go back to talking more often like before. So who’s to say Obi-Wan wouldn’t be able to also maintain a long distance relationship if things went in that direction?

“I’d like to stop by my ship to quickly send out a small update so the Council is aware that things are not as initially reported and a deeper investigation has been started.” Feemor was saying as Obi-Wan tuned back into the conversation, “It wouldn’t help if the Jedi who are officially being assigned the Galidraan mission show up without any sort of update before Obi-Wan and I can make our full on field report.”

“Of course.” the Mand’alor agreed, “It’s for the best of both our people that yours receives word sooner rather than later. Go ahead and we’ll wait for your return before we head into the city.”

Feemor nodded and gave a respectful bow while also tapping his fist to his chest in the Mandalorian show of respect before he turned to Obi-Wan with a smile, “Go ahead and have some fun and learn what you can. I’ll let you know when it’s time to focus on the mission again.”

“Yes, Master.”

Jango used that moment to take his hand and give it a gentle tug, “Come on, we’re going to the training ring first.”

Obi-Wan smiled and nodded, “Alright.”

He let Jango guide him out and through camp to an area that had been set up as a temporary training area. A few targets were set up, along with a sparring ring. The ring was currently in use by a group of Mandalorians sparing hand-to-hand, but there was one target not in use, so they headed over to it.

Jango pulled his blaster from his holster and offered it to Obi-Wan with a smile. “Since I doubt you brought your own.”

Obi-Wan hummed, “I did, but it’s back on the ship. I prefer rifles, which can’t exactly be hidden.”

“Sniper?”

“Preferably.” He nodded checking over the blaster with practiced ease before turning it on the target and firing. He hit the moving bullseye every time.

“Not bad,” Jango nodded, “but you risk hurting your wrist holding it like that. Here, try it again this way.” he said, guiding Obi-Wan’s hands on the weapon before stepping back so he could try it again. Same results, only it was more comfortable.

“Thank you, I’ll admit the last time I used a hand blaster my hands were smaller and the blaster chunkier.” he admitted, and then after a pause he added, “and my teachers were all the same age as I was or younger.”

Jango frowned at that, “Where did you learn to shoot?”

“Ever hear of a little planet called Melida/Daan?”

“No, can’t say that I have.”

“It was a planet at war. Learning to use a blaster was a matter of survival.”

“What about your jetii’kad?”

“Didn’t have it with me.” he shrugged, “Assuming that’s the word for lightsaber.”

“It’s one of them, yeah.” Jango nodded, “Jedi sword. There is also a kad’au which is sword of light. But you’re literally a Jetii, so that one seemed the better choice.”

Obi-Wan tilted his head in agreement and handed the blaster back to him, “Your turn to impress me.”

Jango grinned and took the blaster, clearly eager to flaunt his skill as he did some utterly unnecessary flips with it before taking his shots, which all landed precisely where he’d wanted them to.

“Show off.”

“I’m just getting warmed up.”

Obi-Wan laughed and gave him a friendly push.

“Hey now if you want to start doing that we should take it to the spar ring.”

“Oh, looking for an excuse to get your hands on me, Mando?”

Jango sputtered, but Obi-Wan didn’t give him the chance to respond more than that, “Well, come along, we best mark our place in whatever queue there is.”

“You’re a menace.”

“I have been informed of such before.” Obi-Wan chuckled as they walked over to the ring.

The current spar happening was winding down as one Mando had the other pinned into the snow, waiting for them to concede. Jango asked how long the queue was, and, apparently, everyone was interested in watching Obi-Wan spar as they all wanted to access the skills of Kal’s adopted ad, so Obi-Wan and Jango got pushed up the queue to be next. Everyone was so passionate about it that Obi-Wan couldn’t bring himself to insist that they could wait their turn like everyone else.

Maybe it was just a cultural thing when someone old enough to know how to fight got adopted.

“You two get two rounds. The first is to assess, the second will follow any critique and advice we have to give either of you. See how you improve.” one of the Mandalorians, a Chiss who introduced himself as Mursa, said. He seemed to be the person in charge of directing the makeshift training grounds, especially after he called out to the two currently in the ring to get them to hurry up.

“Vae, We all know you can’t get out of that pin. We all know you’ll try for ten more minutes before you finally give in, so just give in and save us all the time.”

“Buir! But I can just—fine.” the Mandalorian who was pinned in the snow huffed and tapped out before they were helped to their feet by their opponent. Both were also teenagers, now that they were up and walking over to drink some water. Vae was also a Chiss, and the other was a Pantoran who Jango informed him was named Myles. Apparently Jango had his own squad of teenaged Mandalorians, and they were two of the members. Myles was his second.

“Grunt squad normally has midmeal together, I’ll introduce you to everyone then.” Jango added just before Obi-Wan could say anything.

“Grunt squad? That’s certainly a name.”

Jango laughed and nudged Obi-Wan towards the circle for them to do a few warm ups and stretches before they went at each other, “When we first formed the squad we were all still a little young for it, so everyone just started calling us ‘Jango’s Grunts’. And well, we are still the youngest squad around so the name continues to stick. Though we do get some of the fun assignments more often than we used to, so we’re working our way up.”

“Well, as long as it’s an affectionate nickname for your squad.” Obi-Wan smiled shaking himself out from some of his stretching.

“It is, otherwise we wouldn’t have started referring to ourselves as the grunt squad.”

“Ready, ade?” Murca called out.

“Lek!” Jango said.

“Yes, sir.” Obi-Wan agreed.

“Remember, no weapons. Fight!” the order came, signaling the official start of the match.

Obi-Wan stooped, ready and observing Jango as the other teen moved as if to circle him, both of them watching for a weakness or for the other to make the first real move. Eventually, Jango made his move, launching himself into Obi-Wan’s space and the spar began. Jango had his armor on, which was a unique challenge for Obi-Wan. He’d never actually fought hand-to-hand with anyone who wore armor before, and in contrast, Obi-Wan had no armor, though his many layers were enough to soften blows. 

He just had to adjust his aim so he didn’t break a hand striking pure beskar, though Jango didn’t put his helmet on before the round, so that was an option.

Obi-Wan bent back to avoid a strike, his hood falling back off his head and exposing his ears to the cold. He pushed past the sudden discomfort and stayed focused, swinging his leg up into a high kick which he managed to land on Jango’s shoulder, sending him stumbling down onto one knee before he caught himself. Obi-Wan followed through to try and get his opponent down further with another attack, but Jango caught it and turned it around on him, flipping him over his shoulder and down onto his back before Jango quickly moved to pin him.

Obi-Wan could use the Force to get out, but he tapped Jango’s vambrace to signal Jango’s win. He hadn’t actually remembered to ask if use of the Force would count as a weapon or not in this. If he was sparing with a fellow Jedi, then use of the Force was encouraged, but here? He had no idea.

“Good job, you two, we have some notes. Ob’ika, with me.” 

Obi-Wan nodded and after getting up with Jango’s help, he jogged over to Mursa as Jango was waved over by another Mandalorian who had some advice for him.

“You showed signs of being flexible and light on your feet. Use that more.” Murca said.

“Really? I was taught to keep that to a minimum at the temple because it takes up more energy than using smaller movements.”

“Well, I imagine that’s because at your fancy temple your opponents all have the same flexibility so it would be better to keep things more reserved. But here you’re facing opponents who have different abilities than you. Your flexibility could become an advantage in ending things more quickly in your own favor. Jango is in his standard beskar’gam. It restricts his movements compared to yours as well as weighs him down.”

“Alright.” Obi-Wan nodded, “I have a question.”

“Yes, Ob’ika?”

“Is the Force considered a weapon?”

“It’s an advantage, certainly. But it depends on how you plan to use it, I suppose. I don’t know osik about any of that.”

Obi-Wan hummed, “In that case I won’t use it at this time. I didn’t last round because I wasn’t sure, so maybe this will make a good comparison.” 

And good practice for fighting while cut off from the Force which was always a possibility for a Jedi on a mission gone wrong.

Mursa nodded his approval. “I agree with that. Adding your Force osik to what you display today will only help you further.”

Obi-Wan nodded and then he was waved back into the center of the ring where Jango was also walking back to, just a little ahead of him.

“Same rules.” Mursa called out once they got to the middle together and got in their ready positions, “Fight!”

Apparently this time Jango was more eager to leap into action, making his move right away and Obi-Wan twisted out of his path, swinging his arm out to strike Jango on the arm between plates of beskar with the blade of his hand. It wouldn’t do much to help him in the fight, but it did tease the other teen ever so slightly.

“Cheeky.” Jango smirked, turning to try his next attack. As Mursa suggested, Obi-Wan let himself bend and twist more freely in avoiding hits. And while it didn’t let the spar end quicker, it did help in avoiding Jango’s win time and time again.

Jango managed to catch a hold of Obi-Wan’s arm and pulled him in so he took advantage of Jango’s lack of helmet and reared in to deliver a headbutt which knocked Jango back enough that he lost his grip.

Once Jango recovered, he looked at Obi-Wan with a bright grin, “You flirt.”

“Am I?”

Their spar resumed, Jango showing off a burst of more energy, trying to catch hold of him as he continued to dance just out of Jango’s reach.

Finally, Jango curved his attack, aiming to follow Obi-Wan’s avoidance, and he happened to guess the correct direction so acting on instinct, he also changed his direction, leaping up and towards Jango, surprising him. He landed upon Jango’s shoulders, the teen’s head between his thighs and the force of his jump causing Jango to fall back into the snow. Obi-Wan twisted as they fell shifting around so that he landed properly atop Jango to pin him down.

Jango gasped when he realized what happened. “...fucking kriff.”

Obi-Wan smirked down at him, “Concede?” 

Jango gave a little nod and tapped out. Obi-Wan smiled more fully and moved to let him up, only to yelp in surprise when Jango took the opportunity to reach up, grab the fabric of his coat, and pulled him down into a kiss.

Obi-Wan relaxed into the kiss, ignoring the uproar of Mandalorians around them as he returned it for a lingering moment.

When they pulled apart Jango looked quite pleased with himself, “Well, I’m glad that didn’t go as poorly as it could have considering I forgot to ask first.”

“Yes, there was certainly a chance that I would have punched you for that stunt. You’re lucky you’re pretty.” Obi-Wan teased as he helped Jango up out of the show.

“Hey, Mureyca-troan!”

“Kark off, Myles!”

“Kark no! As your second I have the right to tease you.”

“I demote you and Silas is my new second.” Jango said in a serious tone, but Obi-Wan could tell the way the Force danced around him that he was joking.

“Uh huh, as you say, Alor Mureyca-troan.”

“I’m afraid I’m not familiar with that term.” Obi-Wan cut in.

“Alor? It means—”

“No, no, I know alor means leader and such, the other one. I’m good at learning languages, but I only just started learning Mando’a on the flight from Coruscant to Galidraan.”

“It’s fine, it’s not important—” Jango started saying only to be cut off by Myles.

“Mureyca means kiss, troan means face, combining them together in a teasing way would make it translate into something like ‘kissy-face’ in Basic. You know, since he kissed your face.”

“You are a child, Myles.” Jango groaned.

“We’re the same age.”

“Leave me alone.”

“If you didn’t want to get teased, you shouldn’t have kissed the new guy so publicly!” Myles came up to Obi-Wan’s side and swung his arm around his shoulders, “Obi, right? Come on, lets go see if there’s some nice warm drinks to enjoy in the mess tent. Get to know you a bit more. Adopt you into the grunt squad, officially.”

“I’m afraid I can’t stay to be in the squad. Kal adopted me but I am still a Jedi and have to go with my Master to do Jedi stuff.”

“Well, official honorary grunt, then.” Myles shrugged, “Though now I need to know how Kal ended up with Jetiise aliit.”

Obi-Wan shrugged, “Master Feemor just said they met on a mission gone bad. I don’t know the details or how that led to them getting married. Maybe try cornering Kal for more on that story.” he suggested as they all entered the mess tent, soon to be joined by the rest of the grunt squad.

Arla was a ball of burning fury when everyone she had gone to the city with returned to camp. She called everyone into the mess tent, as it was the largest space out of the cold wind and could fit everyone, though crowded.

“The Galidraan mission is a trap.” she announced once everyone was inside and all attention was on her, Kal, and Obi-Wan’s Jetii’buir. “One not completely unlike Kordia VI.”

Anger bubbled in the tent at her words.

“The Governor admitted, after some…aggressive negotiations that he is working with Kyr’tsad. The plan was to lure us here with a fake job, and once we were here they sent word to the Republic that we were killing their ade , among other things.” she paused to let everyone curse and react to such news.

“Luckily, when the Jedi Council received Republic orders, they decided to bring me into it as they knew I had connections to a Mandalorian. They sent me ahead to conduct my own investigation before the full team of Jedi were dispatched to handle it. Doing so has saved a lot of bloodshed on both sides.” the Jetii spoke up, hand holding one of Kal’s.

“And, we know that Kyr’tsad is on planet. We can turn this around and hopefully take out these dar’manda terrorists.” Kal said.

“Oya!”

“Rook, get scouts out to the area Kyr’tsad has made camp.” Arla said, holding out a datachip for Rook to take, “War Council, to my ship for a strategy meeting. Feemor, you are welcome to join.”

“I will do so after I check in with my Padawan and make another call to report this update. The team of Jedi the Council was putting together may help with pinning Death Watch down. The fact that they are meddling on Galidraan is proof that they are no longer sticking to Mandalorian space, so it’ll be easier to get the council to agree to taking action and risk having to face the senate afterwards.”

“Go do your Jetiise stuff and join us when you can. We’ll catch you up on what you need to know.”

The Jetii nodded and saluted Arla before weaving his way through the crowd towards where Jango, his grunts, and Obi-Wan were gathered. Kal followed along behind him, rather than immediately following Arla to the ship. He likely also wanted to check in on Obi-Wan before he got to business.

“Looks like you made some friends.” The Jetii said.

“I have, yes.”

“Good. Kal and I have some lost time to make up after we finish up this little Death Watch mess, so it’ll be good for you to have friends to spend time with. Speaking of, how are you feeling about the idea of going into battle again? If you’re not ready I can put you in charge of communications with the Jedi team, assuming they will be offering their assistance.”

Obi-Wan frowned, “Jinn isn’t head of the team, is he?”

“No, I’ve been informed it’s Master Dooku. Jinn isn’t involved at all.”

“Then I’ll take the communications job.”

“I’m guessing we don’t like this Jinn person?” Jango asked.

The two Jetiise looked at him before the older sighed, “It’s complicated and…personal for the both of us in our own ways. He hurt us both individually, but if he hadn’t, we may not have been brought together.”

“My hurt is still too fresh, I’m not quite ready to face him if it can be avoided.” Obi-Wan added.

“I’ve never been a fan of the man. Probably would shoot his kneecaps out if I ever met him.” Kal huffed, clearly he knew more about Jinn. At least he knew more about his riduur’s story. Once the man learned Obi-Wan’s side, Jango had no doubt that he wouldn’t stop at the kneecaps. Mandalorian buir’e were ruthless with anyone who dared harm their ade in any way.

“That really isn’t necessary, Dear.” The older Jetii said.

“I protect my aliit my way, Cyare.”

The Jetii just shook his head fondly before turning back to Obi-Wan, “Well, we should go make contact with the Council.”

“Yes, Master.” Obi-Wan said, moving to join his side. However, Jango had been holding Obi-Wan’s hand under the table and his hold didn’t give way as Obi-Wan moved, tugging his own hand. Obi-Wan paused and glanced back at Jango with a little giggle, “I’m afraid you’ll have to let me go tend my duties as a Padawan, Jango.”

Blushing, Jango muttered an apology and let go of his hand as the grunts all laughed and teased him. Kal, on the other hand, swung his arm across Jango’s shoulders and started pulling him on his way out of the mess tent. Jango flinched, sure he was about to get some sort of shovel talk.

“You and Obi-Wan are both old enough to make your own choices, I don’t see any reason to threaten you, Jan’ika.” Kal said once they were outside. Jango relaxed. “I am, however, telling Ar’ika.”

Jango groaned, “I’d rather get the buir threats!”

Kal laughed.

It was over.

Death Watch had been defeated.

Well, there might be a few members scattered, but all the high ranking members had been on Galidraan and had fallen to the surprise attack by the Haat’ade, who received backup from the Jedi, led by Master Dooku once Obi-Wan sent them towards the battle.

And now Jedi and Mandalorian celebrated victory together, and a tedious but promising alliance between Mandalore and the Jedi Order had been struck up.

Obi-Wan had ended up helping in the battle himself. After sending Dooku’s team ahead, he found that sitting around waiting and unknowing was driving him crazy, but he also knew he wasn’t ready to get shot at by adults, so he ran into his cabin on Feemor’s ship and had grabbed his rifle. He found a good spot high up where he could see the battle below, and helped pick off members of Death Watch that either tried to run away to terrorize another day, or was about to shoot someone in the back.

On Melida/Daan the Elders would just point and shoot without a care on who would lose their lives. They only cared to keep the fight going until no one was left standing. But the more Obi-Wan saw how Death Watch fought, the more he realized they were cowards who knew they couldn’t win in a fair fight, but the outcome was the same, they wanted to only spread death and hope they would stand at the end.

He probably would need to set up an extra appointment with his mind healer to unload all that. But for now he was going to enjoy himself.

“Hey!” Jango jogged over to where Obi-Wan was sitting by a fire, two steaming mugs in his hands. “Here, hot shig. Your Jetii’buir said you like tea, so I got you the Mandalorian equivalent. You know, since we’re both still too young for any of the alcohol being passed around.”

Obi-Wan smiled and accepted the cup, “Thank you.” Taking a sip, he hummed happily, “Oh that is delicious. I’ll have to stock up on a few tins of it while on Mandalore.”

“When are you going?”

“Feemor said he convinced the Council to let us delay our return to the temple. We’ll be traveling with your sister’s fleet. I think Kal wants to drag me to get some armor and meet some more of the Skirata family, but I should still have plenty of time to wander the shops and…maybe go on a date…or two.” he blushed.

Jango’s smile widened, “Yeah? I think I know a few places we can go.”

“I look forward to it.” he said, leaning in closer, mindful of their hot drinks being held between them as he pressed a kiss to Jango’s lips.

“Me too, Mesh’la.” Jango whispered into the kiss.

-End-