Chapter Text
"Do we know exactly what the Jetiise are sending buir?" Jango clipped his buy'ce to his belt as he stood beside his buir's throne. After nearly four generations of strife, the war if one could call it that was over between their people. Countless lives on both sides had been lost and many more would have been if Jaster hadn't finally been able to come to an agreement with the enigmatic Jetii council. Despite what many in the galaxy believed the Republic Senate had very little sway over the Order, just the appearance of it. The ruse allowed them to use the Senate as a filter for any who came seeking their aid. A large part of why negotiations were able to reach an agreement at all was the young Jetii who had been assigned as the primary liaison between the two.
Jango hadn't met the young man yet, but he had heard from both his father and his father's council that man was one of the few outsiders to actually know something of Mando'ade customs and ways. It had all come to a head on the planet Galidraan five months ago. Jaster had taken a group of Commandos on a mercenary job to handle insurgents at the behest of the planet's governor. In reality, it had been a trap set by the Governor and Kyr'stad. While Jaster and his vod'e had been finding out to truth of the insurgency the two faced Governor Maetok had requested aid from the Republic claiming that Mando'ade were slaughtering innocent civilians and political activists.
Had this Obi-Wan, who had been dispatched along with several others not sensed the deceit in the man's words once they landed on Galidraan and discovered the Death Watch camp, it would have been the end of Jaster and those with him. The Jetii found not a band of murderous Mando'ade but instead found the Haat Mando'ade providing protection and aid to several hundred helpless and vulnerable children, elderly, and civilians from the various provinces who had been forced to flee their homes for fear of reprisals from either Death Watch or the corrupt Governor.
While they were technically in the young man's debt, the Jedi Council had seen things differently given their quick assumption that what they had been told was the truth. As it had been told to Jango, the jet'ikaa had let slip whether intentionally or not, that his group had been sent to stop them by any means needed, not to further investigate the Governor's claims.
"No, the Grandmaster only said they were sending a peace offering to prevent future incidents like Galidraan and to end the fighting between us and them. For all I know it could be the return of Tarre Viszla's armor." Jaster rested his chin on his fist as they waited for their guests to arrive. "Do try to not let your temper get the better of you ad'ika. I know how you feel about the Jetiise, but we have peace and we shall hear them out. If the gift is inappropriate we shall turn it away."
"I know buir, I just..."
The door swung open abruptly, interrupting the young man mid-sentence, as Myles stepped aside to usher in their guests. The first to enter was an elderly human man, perhaps in his sixties or seventies, his graying hair framing a face that bore the marks of wisdom and experience. He carried himself with an undeniable air of nobility, each deliberate step adding weight to his presence. Instead of the expected traditional robes worn by the jetii, he was draped in a luxurious cape which rested over an equally fine suit, the fabric shimmering subtly in the light. An intricate chain clasped at his collar added an element of sophistication, hinting at a rank that was more than mere decoration. His expression was one of calm neutrality, yet deep within his piercing gaze lingered an unmistakable hint of displeasure, as if he was scrutinizing a situation that had not met his expectations.
Beside him stood a man who appeared to be in his late forties or early fifties, his age suggested by the subtle flecks of gray that threaded through his otherwise rich brown hair and beard. He exuded an air of austere authority, embodying every expectation of a Jetii. Draped in a dark brown robe that cascaded elegantly over a tan tunic and matching pants, he exuded a sense of gravity that seemed to distance him from those around him. His posture was stiff, radiating a palpable sense of pride that bordered on arrogance. Jango felt a swell of irritation surge within him, a fierce desire to unleash his anger and drive the man’s teeth down his throat for the contemptuous superiority he displayed.
Jango's gaze fell upon the figure he assumed was Obi-Wan Kenobi. The young man appeared to be no older than twenty, dressed in a manner that blended nobility with practicality. However, there was a subtle air about him that set him apart; something distinctly different from the others. A nervous tension seemed to emanate from him, contrasting sharply with the neatly trimmed beard that framed his face—a feature that evoked a familial resemblance among those who shared it. Despite the calm of his surroundings, this young man carried an innocence that made him appear even younger than his age suggested. Jango squinted, trying to discern the color of the redhead's eyes, which remained downcast. Although he couldn't quite make them out, he imagined them to be a pale blue, like the sky on a clear day.
"Mand'alor," Myles gave his father a short bow, "The Jetiise Masters Dooku, Jinn and Padawan Kenobi."
"Welcome, Masters Jetiise to my home," Jaster stood from his throne extending a hand to each man as they came to stand before him, "And thank you for taking time away from your duties for this meeting."
"My duty is to bring peace to the galaxy through the guidance of the Force," the older man inclined his head as he spoke, "Thank you for allowing us this opportunity."
"So long as the Jetiise keep their word on peace we can maintain truce. Your grandmaster made mention of a peace offering?"
"Indeed he did," The man named Dooku answered quickly, his eyes going to Master Jinn. Whatever it was he seemed disinclined to give it.
"Yes," Master Jinn stepped forward, his hands still tucked loosely in his sleeves u like the other two. "Master Yoda believes this is the best way to ensure a lasting peace if not friendship between the Order and the people of Mandalore. With all that has happened and the lives lost between us there is nothing either side can do to restore those lives, but we can perhaps begin anew with this gesture. Obi-Wan."
Jango's keen eyes detected the subtle flinch that rippled through the young man as he stepped forward, positioning himself directly in front of Jaster. The moment hung heavy in the air, charged with an unspoken tension. Jango's focus shifted entirely to the redhead, who knelt gracefully onto one knee, grounding himself to the floor. His posture conveyed both respect and vulnerability, with his head bowed low, eyes fixed firmly on the ground.
In a voice that was soft yet resonant, almost reminiscent of a siren’s alluring song, he uttered the ceremonial words, "Ni dinuir ner baar at Manda'yaim, ner tal at to gar tal," which translated to, "I give my body to Mandalore, my blood to join your blood." The weight of the declaration settled heavily in the air, stirring something deep within Jango as he processed the meaning behind those ancient words.
Confusion washed over him as he grappled with the implications of what he had just heard. He had never known the Jedi, the Jetiise, to have a marriage rite, and if they indeed did, why was this ritual being offered in such a solemn manner? Jango instinctively cast a quick glance at his father, seeking assurance in his father’s expression. It was clear that he wasn't alone in his bewilderment; the look on Jaster’s face mirrored his own questions, revealing a shared sense of uncertainty in the face of this unexpected declaration.
"You, Jetii mean to tell me that you would offer one of your own to my son as a means to establish peace?" Jaster's voice remained calm, yet it carried a weight of palpable tension. There was an undeniable hardness in his tone, one that even the formidable Jetii seemed to sense as Jaster's father, a towering figure of authority, stepped up to stand beside him, arms crossed and brow furrowed.
"Indeed, we are prepared to make that sacrifice," the Jedi Master replied, his expression resolute. "It was not a decision arrived at lightly; the council deliberated extensively over this matter, examining every possible angle before reaching a consensus."
From behind him, Master Dooku could barely restrain his disdain, allowing a derisive scoff to escape his lips. "Hardly a full day went by before you decided to rid yourselves of him," he muttered, his words dripping with sarcasm as he shot a pointed look at Jinn.
With a sharp intake of breath, Jinn turned his intense gaze upon the older Master, his patience wearing thin. Yet, he composed himself, clearing his throat as he prepared to speak again. "We are, of course, aware of the unique nuances of Mandalorian adoption culture," he began, his tone now steadier, as he aimed to defuse the tension in the room. "However, that consideration should hold little weight in this specific context, given that Obi-Wan is, in fact, Stewjoni." His voice projected conviction, underscoring the intricacies of the situation at hand.
Jango's eyebrows shot up in surprise at that revelation. He had only ever encountered tales of Stewjon, a world inhabited by people known for their isolationist tendencies. Yet, the galaxy at large was familiar with one striking aspect of their culture: the majority of the population—especially the men—were dual-sexed. The implication hung heavily in the air; Obi-Wan, could theoretically give him ade. The weight of this realization crashed down on Jango like a tidal wave, igniting a simmering anger that quickly escalated into a seething rage.
His gaze snapped to Obi-Wan, who remained unmoving, his posture rigid and tense as if he were desperately battling an internal storm. The subtle tremble in his frame spoke volumes, revealing the struggle to maintain composure. Jango felt the frustration bubbling just beneath the surface, ready to erupt, but he fought to keep his voice steady. "The Jetiise do not marry," he articulated, the words pouring out in a strained attempt to break the tension and steer clear of an all-out confrontation.
"In practice no we do not although exceptions have been made occasionally for certain circumstances. As my padawan is well versed in your culture it was decided that this would be the most amicable solution between our two people." Jango didn't like that way the Master spoke as if this were some small thing and Obi-Wan was simply a possession that could be traded away.
"Then it is lucky that we are not talking about your people Master Jin," Jaster's voice was far more even than his son's. "But mine, and I have yet to decide if this is appropriate. I believe that we could all use some time to come to terms with this. Myles will show you to your quarters for the night." Jaster then bent down and whispered something to Obi-Wan that he couldn't hear but the young man nodded stiffly and got to his feet. "Someone will fetch you all when dinner is being served."
Master Jinn looked like he wanted to argue but Dooku stepped forward with an imperious incline of his head, "Of course Mand'alor and we thank you for your hospitality. Come along Obi-Wan." For once there was an emotion other than disdain on the man's face as he put his arm around Obi-Wan and guided him out of the room, Master Jinn following after them. Once the door closed Jango turned to his father.
"What did you say to him?"
"I told him that he had nothing to fear from me or anyone here, that I would never force him to do anything he didn't want to do."
Jango expected as much, "Its clear he doesn't want this buir." Neither did he for that matter. Arranged marriages might have been a common thing in Mandal'yaim's past, but the practice had fallen out of favor after the Sith wars. The riduurok was a vow between two souls more than anything else. To pledge to someone unwilling was no better than enslaving them.
"No he doesn't and while it makes me uneasy as he was more than willing to submit, I would rather have them go back to Coruscant with their tails between their legs than to take advantage of a young man who has done nothing but help us." His buir's voice was calm, but Jango knew he was likely already considering letting Obi-Wan stay of his own accord, but without having to marry Jango.
Shaking his head Jango couldn't believe they were even doing this, "He's supposed to be their expert, he had to have told them we would say no."
Jaster nodded as he sat back down, "Yes, but I doubt they asked him or gave him much say in the matter. What do you make of the other two?"
"Dooku isn't happy about this but whether it's because they are giving away one of their own or the fact it's not just a vow to be bound to someone but also the possibility of a child between us, I'm not sure. He does seem to care for Obi-Wan at least. As for Jinn, I think he's all too happy to agree to this...offering."
"And what of Obi-Wan himself?"
That was the question wasn't it? "He's clearly terrified of what the Jetiise might do to him if he disobeys them. This was just an order to him, but he was also afraid of us as well. Or at least unsure of what our reaction would be."
"Something for us to think on. I'll see you at dinner. I'm going to go speak to the council. Though I doubt they'll readily agree with this." Jango snorted, his father's council never readily agreed to anything that didn't involve fighting Kyr'stad. Jaster left to talk to his council and Jango to clear his head. He had promised he would keep his tempr in check, but that had been before the Jetiise had arrived and offered him a riduur. If he was going to make it through dinner, the future Mand'alor was going to the training grounds first. At least then he'd be less likely to tell the Jetiise exactly what he thought of their so-called peace offering.