Saber Forum

Summary:
Jango isn't quite sure how he came to adopt a blonde slave boy after a job on Tatooine went sideways, but he honestly couldn't complain. The boy is a little genius, brimming with compassion and a willingness to learn. The only hiccup, as far as Jango is concerned, is the fact that his boy is a naturally powerful force user. Someone the jetii would want to get their hands on.

Of course- he'd just like to see them try.

Characters:
Jango Fett, Anakin Skywalker, Mandalorian OCs.

Tags:
Adoption, Mandalorian culture, Good Parenting, Force Sensitive Mandalorians, Mando'a, AU.

Warnings:
Mentions of slavery/past slavery, mentions of child abuse and child labor, violence, and minor character death.

Chapter 1: An'ika

Standing in the main hold of Jaster's Legacy Jango looked at the scattered parts littered across the floor and grumbled under his breath at the mess. Normally it wasn’t too bad, the parts placed in neat little piles by some criteria he didn’t think he’d ever understand. “Gotab’ika! Come here!” His voice carried, loud enough that there was no way he wouldn’t be heard in the fairly small ship. A moment later a blonde head poked out of an access panel above him he hadn’t even realized existed. The boy looked at him, blue eyes large in his pale face. “Come on, down you go.” He said clearly, pointing at the floor next to him. The boy pouted but complied.

Slipping out of the small space with ease the seven year old boy dropped to the ground and looked up at him a little sheepishly. The kid’s hair was a fluffy mess and his face was streaked with grease. Tucked into his belt were a bunch of tools sized to fit his small hands. Tools that Jango bought him. It filled his heart with joy to see such a sight.

“What have I told you about leaving parts all over the floor?” The blonde ducked his head, nibbling on his bottom lip and looking contrite. He knew that Jango preferred the ship to be tidy. Just in case they had to fly evasive maneuvers suddenly. It had happened often enough.

“Uh, not to?” He sighed but there was no heat behind it. If anything he was a cross between exasperated and amused. He wondered if Jaster had often felt this way about him as a child.

“Not to. It’s time for lunch and practice. Afterward I want you to clean up this mess. Tion suvarir?” The bright smile returned and the boy quickly scrambled over to him, almost tripping.

“Lek buir!” Jango huffed and ruffled the fluffy blonde hair as the boy reached up to hug him around the waist.

“Go wash up.” Rushing off like the little ball of energy he was Anakin darted into the fresher to clean himself up. Jango watched him go with a small smile. He still wasn’t sure how exactly he’d come to adopt the former slave from Tatooine but he was happy he had. For the first time in a long time Jango felt almost… at peace.

Going into the small kitchen he dished out their meal and sat down to wait. If he started without him the blonde would pout for the rest of the day. Adorable but not very helpful in the long run.

His son bolted into the room and sat down, muttering a small prayer in thanks for the food before digging in. It made Jango’s heart clench in his chest every time. To be honest he’d thought about stopping the boy from doing those small things that reminded him of being a slave on that desert planet. But it was something from the boy’s mother and their culture, and he refused to take what few happy memories he had of the woman away from him.

“What was so catastrophically broken in the ceiling that you had to climb up into there?” The boy grinned up at him, joy shining in his eyes.

“The ship is wired funny.” He stopped eating, letting his hand drop to the small table as he thought of how to describe what he’d been doing. “It’s like… someone tried to make holes in the walls to hide things. So they moved all the big stuff out of the way. But they didn’t know how and now all the wires are wrong.” He hummed thoughtfully. He let very few mechanics actually take that deep a look into his ship, preferring to fix it on his own. No nasty surprises that way. “Why don’t you fix it, buir?”

“Places to hide things are useful, ad’ika. Like that knife in your boot.” The boy took another bite of his meal, looking thoughtful. “Finish your lunch.”

“Lek.”

After a quick clean-up they moved somewhere with a little more room. Jango stood, feet a shoulder’s width apart, as he watched his son go through the different hand to hand forms. Every once in a while he would correct a stance or give out advice and encouragement. Once his son was almost trembling from the strain he called a break. Some water and cool down stretches later they were sitting across from each other on the floor, eyes closed.

“Breathe in.” He intoned. “And out.” He knew the blonde was following along as he spoke in a calming voice. Meditation wasn’t something many people thought of when Mandalorians came to mind but it was actually quite common. A way to learn control over ones body, to calm the mind into sharp focus, and keep yourself from breaking apart at the worst moment. It was an important skill and had proven useful when it came to Anakin’s control over the force.

What the stars cursed jetiise had never understood was that Mandalorians didn’t hate those born with the force. What they hated was the jetiise philosophies that took those bright souls and did their best to dull their shine. Jango wasn’t force sensitive but his people had a word for what he was- Mir’kotyc. Strong willed, someone whose mind was immune to the effects of mind tricks and other jetiise nonsense. But Anakin was Ka’runi, and a particularly strong one at that.

He remembered waking up those first few nights, unsure what the hell was going on, when the kid would thrash and scream in his sleep. He knew what kind of nightmares the boy was likely to be having so he did his best to wake him and comfort him. Holding him close in those dark moments when the blonde’s whole world had come crashing down once again. The biggest issue wasn’t consoling Anakin, however, it was the fact that shell started to tremble, then shake, then suddenly fly around the room whenever his emotions would boil over. Jango recognized it immediately and had cursed a blue streak. But even then, he didn’t regret taking the boy in.

“Buir?” He opened his eyes and tilted his head questioningly. Anakin took in a deep breath and held it for a moment. “Mando’ade and jetiise don’t… get along… do they?” Jango swallowed hard, emotion welling up in him. Chief among them was hatred and self loathing. He saw his boy flinch and quickly pulled himself together. He knew his son was empathic, like many with the force.

“The jetiise and our people have different ways of looking at the world. So no, ad’ika, we don’t get along. Besides they’ve… done some things to our people that many Mando’ade can never forget.” He looked into his sons eyes. “What do I always say when someone slights us?”

“Mando’ad draar digu.” If his smile was a little rueful he didn’t notice. For a seven year old Anakin had an amazing memory and brilliant intellect. It made Jango proud.

“That’s right ner ad. It doesn’t mean we can’t forgive others, but we will never forget how they treated us.” He ran a hand through his dark hair. “The jetiise though… I will never forgive them for what they’ve done. To our people, to me.” He tried hard to keep the vitriol out of his voice. His son was still only seven, regardless of how intelligent he was. He didn’t need to learn about their history, not yet.

Anakin was quiet for a moment, looking down at his crossed ankles. "I... used to have dreams about being a jetii." Jango grits his teeth, vehemently against the idea of his son being a jetii. Let alone being anywhere near them. "But now I have different dreams. I'm standing on a balcony and... I have a lasersword. But... it's all black." Jango's eyes widened. “I’m wearing beskar’gam, like yours buir. But mine is black and blue and I have a red cape and… a skirt?” He looked confused.

“Kama, it protects the legs.” The boy nodded, eyes glazing over for a moment as he memorized the word and matched it to whatever vision he was seeing in his mind.

Jango knew that Anakin had visions, true visions. He’d listened to his son on more than one occasion where the boy had emphatically told him something would happen and went out of his way to avoid the scenario. But this? This was the first time Jango felt a shiver of anticipation run down his spine.

If the vision was true, and he believed it was, then his little boy would grow up to be the new Mand’alor. He was surprised that he didn’t feel a sinking dread at the thought. The last Mand’alor didn’t have a very good track record when it came to helping his people. Anakin however? His little star child, engineer, disaster on legs- he would be the one to reunite the clans and take Manda’yaim back from the weaklings and cowards.

“Oya manda!” He mumbled under his breath, a predatory grin crossing his face.


Mando'a Translations:

Gotab’ika- Little Engineer
Tion suvarir- You understand?
Lek buir!- Yes dad!
Ad’ika- Little one
Mir’kotyc- Strong willed
Ka’runi- Star Soul (Force Sensitive)
Mando’ad draar digu- A Mandalorian never forgets.
Ner ad- My son.
Oya manda!- Expression of Mandalorian solidarity and perpetuity: emotional and assertive.

Chapter 2: Shu'shu'ika

Trel Mongabe patrolled the hall between the cells. They could hear the crying of the new products but it rang hollow in their ears. After years working with the Thasp slavers they had learned to tune it out. Their heart had hardened and all they could think about was the credits. Stopping in front of the cell with the newest batch of child slaves they looked in on them. Most of the kids were huddled together, crying or whimpering, but one of them stood out amongst the others. It was a boy with messy blonde hair and bright blue eyes. He sat, cross legged, between the other children and the cell door. Trel cackled.

“Think you’re brave, huh?” The boy glared at them and they grinned.

“My dad is going to kill you. All of you.” Trel felt a small shiver run down their spine. There was something so certain in the boy’s gaze it was unsettling.

“Oh yeah? Him and what army?” The boy smiled, looking smug. Trel wanted to smack the look off the kid’s face.

“He doesn’t need an army. He’s the best bounty hunter in the galaxy!” They let out a bark of laughter.

“That’s a big claim considering the best bounty hunter in the galaxy is Jango… Fett…” Trel’s laughter tapered off when the boy didn’t waver. If anything his expression grew more smug, more triumphant. They paled.

“Y-you can’t be serious?” Before the kid could answer there was a sudden jolt and a loud explosion. The kid got to his feet with a huge grin. “What the fu-” Before they could finish their sentence the boy lifted his cuffed hands and suddenly Trel was knocked back into another cell door, their head slamming against it hard. The boy turned and Trel watched as the cuffs fell, like they hadn’t been locked a moment ago.

“Come on, we’re getting out of here.” The boy said happily to the other children. Trel tried to push themselves away from the cell door but was caught by the hands of some of the older slaves. The blonde boy shoved his cell door and it opened with a shriek of metal. More hands grasped at them, cutting off their oxygen. The last hysteric thought that went through their head as the world turned black was; ‘Jango Fett has a son!’

[Anakin]

Soothing some of the younger kids he told them to hide if they heard the slavers coming and to only come back out if they heard him tell them it was safe. “I’ll say ‘there are no bad guys.’ If you hear that then it’s safe to come out. If I say ‘it’s safe’ then you’ll know the slavers got me and are trying to make me help them catch you again.” The oldest girl nodded in understanding and ushered the others into the shadowy section of the hold. With the kids safe he turned his attention to the other cells.

His dad told him he had to be careful when he used the force. If he did too much he could get sick and there was no one around to take care of him. So instead of ripping all the doors open he went over to the unconscious, maybe dead, hut’uun and rummaged through their pockets until he found a remote. He checked it carefully to make sure it wasn’t connected to any explosives before hitting a button and whooping when all the doors opened.

“It’s alright! You’re all free!” He called out. Those who could see him from their cells were the first to come out into the hall then slowly others started to join them. One woman, a Twi’lek, leaned down to smile at him, gratitude shining in her eyes.

“Arni’soyacho!” She said emphatically.

“Koahiko.” He said in response, his smile growing wider when the woman looked pleasantly surprised.

“Is anyone really good at shooting?” He asked. A couple of hands went up and he handed them the guns from the unconscious slaver. When they were armed they went to guard the door to the cargo bay. There wasn’t a long wait before the two former slaves were shooting down the hall to keep the slavers at bay. Anakin sat down and closed his eyes, breathing in and out slowly. Right away he zeroed in on his father’s presence in the force and relaxed.

Another explosion rocked the ship and the people around him began to panic. “It’s okay!” He said loudly above the murmuring, standing up excitedly. “It’s just my dad, he’s here to help!” Of this Anakin had no doubt. His dad hated slavery even more than he did. He wasn’t lying when he told the slaver that his dad was going to kill them all.

When he felt his dad finally come closer he ran up to the door. “Don’t shoot!” The slaves looked at him a little strangely but they aimed the blasters at the ground rather than down the hallway. His father’s bulky armored frame came running down the hallway, his aura of rage giving way to joy and relief.

“Ad’ika? Me’vaar?” Anakin ran up to him and was pulled into an embrace. A gloved hand ran through his blonde hair as he was lifted into his father’s arms.

“Naas, jahaala.” Jango’s gloved hand brushed against the bruise on his face and Anakin could feel his anger spike.

“Nayc, ne’jahaala.” But his dad let it go for the time being. Setting him down on the floor he let Anakin lead him into the cargo bay and looked around at the sheer number of freed slaves. He cursed under his breath.

“Can anyone here fly?” Anakin grinned and went to open his mouth. “Not you, shu’shu’ika.” The man said with exasperated fondness. He pouted but let his dad work with the slaves while he wandered over to where the kids were hiding.

“There are no bad guys left, you can come out now!” There was no response at first but after a beat of silence the kids came out from their hiding places. Some of them ran to their parents, whom they’d been separated from, while others huddled together near Anakin.

“It’s settled then. I’ll escort you to Alderaan.” Turning away from the small group who appeared to be the new leaders for the freed slaves his dad motioned him over. “K’olar, An’ika. We’re leaving.” Anakin said good-bye to the other children and scampered over to his father.

“You sure you’re alright, ner ad?” He smiled.

“Lek, I knew you’d come.” He could feel his dad’s emotions in the force and leaned against him. His dad had felt so desperate and angry, scared almost. Now he was all calm determination and contentment again, sharp and focused like he always was when doing his job.

“We’re going to help them get home, right buir?” Jango looked down at him and even through his helmet Anakin knew he was smiling fondly.

“That’s right, An’ika.” Anakin beamed. His dad was so wizard!

Mando'a Translations:

Hut’uun- Coward
Arni’soyacho!- (Ryl) An expression of extreme gratitude; thank you very much.
Koahiko- (Ryl) A polite response to gratitude.
Ad’ika? Me’vaar?- Little one, you okay?
Naas, jahaala- I’m well.
Nayc, ne’jahaala- No, you’re not well.
Shu’shu’ika- Little disaster.
K’olar- Come here, commanding.
Ner ad- My son.

Nice what a great alternate universe concept, completely fits in many ways, Jango wanted a son after all, its certainly possible he was  on Tatooine and crossed paths at some point.  Fascinated to see how this develops, great writing too straight into things, lots of 'movement'.

Oh, I am liking this.   Ironically, Jango might have been just the kind of father Anakin needed to prevent what happened to him later.
Though I have to wonder if the Emperor won't be hunting him later on...

It's really good! As stated, they each fill the "void" that the other had. As an AU concept it's pretty great. It leaves so much room for potential awesomeness, not that it isn't awesome already. Trading Darth for Mandalore is epic, and it'll be interesting to see how (if it even happens at all) the potential loss affects him; will it be similar to Boba's or closer to AU Jedi version losing Shimi...? Also without his presence "the other apprentice" easily could have remained whole and not lost. Leaving him, the General, and the Count still potentially out there in the mix somewhere. Let alone his AU "good" mentor and his master. Butterfly effect of an alternate timeline throws soooo much into question, and can have such dire ripple effects. I really love it, because the Sith of course still lurk and desire their revenge, and his destiny is still in play, but there are so many paths to an end result. Some bright, some dark, but seeing different choices play out can be thrilling. Really love how they bring out the best in each other though. Pretty dang good and well thought out writing!

Thanks so much! This was originally one of my more fast paced 'plot bunny' stories, where I don't do as much planning and just have fun with a concept. I've been doing a lot more planning for it lately.

I though so as well. :) Stern, disciplined, someone who was also a slave and understands the kinds of issues a kid like Anakin would have. Not afraid to show affection and without all the politics of the Jedi Order. Bonus points for rarely going to Coruscant and not being around Skeev Palpatine.

Both the Jedi and the Sith will notice Anakin eventually. But at that point it'll be pretty difficult to pry the boy away from his father.

😊 You're makin me blush over here! lol

Chapter 3: Haa'it

Watching his son from the corner of his eye he stood with Dex at the front counter, talking quietly. He’d already paid for their meals but the information broker turned diner owner had some tidbits about his next target that more than made up for the delay. Anakin, the walking disaster magnet, was speaking with a little droid near the door of the diner. His kid was more than happy to talk specs in the chirps and whistles all droids were capable of producing. He still wasn’t sure how the blonde understood the language so damn quickly but he chalked it up to his kid being absolutely brilliant.

“K’tharsin, a Red Nikto, I’ve heard rumours he can be found on Karazak when he’s not doing business on Rorak 4.” Jango couldn’t help the vicious grin that crossed his face.

“Thanks for the tip, Dex.” The Besalisk gave him a sly smirk in return.

“Hey, word travels fast. Make sure you put a few of them down for me.” He glanced over at Anakin then back to Jango. “He’s a great kid.” Jango nodded in understanding. From the moment Anakin had come into his life it was clear to everyone how much he cared for his shu’shu’ika.

The door to the diner opened and he glanced over at the two jetii who entered. He grit his teeth, clenching his hand into a fist so he didn’t immediately grab his blaster, and kept them in his peripheral. As long as they didn’t try anything he would remain civil. For Anakin and Dex, if for no other reason.

“Before I forget, I grabbed that item for you.” He turned his attention back to Dex as the Besalisk rummaged around behind the counter. He handed over a take-out bag but judging by the weight Jango knew exactly what it was.

“I’m not supposed to talk to strangers!” The loud, and very firm, voice of his son grabbed his attention immediately. The two jetii who had come into the diner had stopped and the taller one, a beast of a man really, was bent nearly in half trying to talk to his kid. Anakin had backed away, watching the man warily. From where he was standing he couldn’t hear what the man said next but he could see his son reaching for the knife hidden at his back. The jetii’s redheaded companion, a jet’ika judging by the braid, was looking between the two of them before his blue-green eyes scanned the small diner. The lad took one look at him and his eyes went wide in a pale face.

As Jango strode angrily over to the jetiise Dex called out to them. “Qui-gon Jinn, you old rascal! What are you doing accosting my customers?” The older of the two jetii stood and looked toward the Besalisk, just as Jango forced himself between the man and his son. The jetii’s attention turned back to him and a smarmy smile crossed his face.

“Greetings, I am Jedi Master Qui-gon Jinn. I was just-”

“Back. Off. Now.” He spoke in a low growl that barely contained his anger. The man eyed him carefully, wary. He could probably feel the hatred pouring off Jango as he glared up at the man. The jetii took a few careful steps back, putting distance between them. The diner had gone quiet

“Has the child ever been tested for force sensitivity?” Jango bristled. He already knew Anakin was Ka’runi, he didn’t need to be tested. And he certainly didn’t need the jetii to learn how to control his abilities.

“No.” The man’s eyes narrowed.

“Is he your son?” His anger rose so sharply at the accusation in the man's tone of voice that his vision turned red at the edges.

“Master!” The word was sharp with a rebuke and both of them looked to the padawan. His face had turned a bright shade of red but he stood fast. “You need to speak with Dex about the mission. We are in a hurry, Master.” The jetii stood there a moment longer before nodding and walking away. The young man seemed to relax slightly but flinched when he looked back to Jango.

“For my guardian’s actions, I apologize greatly.” Surprise doused his anger as he watched the younger jetii bow low enough to expose the back of his neck, Mando'a flowing from him as if he'd known it all his life. It was an apology he never thought he'd see coming from a jetii.

Behind him Anakin poked his head out, curiosity piqued. “You speak Mando’a?” The redhead smiled at the blonde.

“I do. I learned from a friend on Manda’yaim.” Jango wondered who in their right mind would teach a jetii their language but the redhead had a Kalevalan accent. So it was probably one of the pacifist ‘New Mandalorians,’ another group Jango despised.

“We’re leaving.” Anakin looked up at him and pouted slightly.

“Yes buir.” He looked back at the jetii and his eyes seemed to go unfocused for a moment. “See you later Obi.” The jetii stared at his son, slack jawed, but Jango’d had enough. Putting his hand against Anakin’s back he ushered the boy out of the diner, keeping himself between his son and the jetii.

On the trip back to the ship he looked down at his son. “How did you know his name?” Anakin smiled up at him.

“I saw him. He was in my vision. The one with the black lasersword.” Jango didn’t want to believe him… but he trusted Anakin’s visions. If the jetii was going to somehow become a part of his kid’s life he wanted to keep an eye on him. He’d gather as much information as he could on this… Obi.

Chapter 4: Kir'manir

[Jango]

Setting Anakin down he smirks as the blonde runs excitedly into the room, laughing happily. “Auntie Roz!” The pink Toydarian smiles and lands, opening her arms so the little blonde can give her a welcoming hug. It was nice to see that his treatment by his previous master hadn’t colored his son’s view of all Toydarians. Then again Anakin had a deep capacity to care for others, a compassion that at times made him feel ashamed of his own actions, or inactions.

“Hello again Anakin, have you been a good boy for your buir?” He smiled and nodded, looking back at Jango for confirmation. He couldn’t help but snort in amusement.

“He only got up to the usual amount of osik.” Except for one thing, but that wasn’t really his son’s fault. “An’ika, go put your bag in your room. I need to talk to your aunt.” With a small pout at his greeting being cut off early his son took the duffel bag stuffed full of his things, including his tools and a gutted datapad he’d been trying to get working again. With one last look back at the two of them his son slinked off to the guest room Roz always kept for him.

Stars. He didn’t want to leave his son behind but where he was going it was far too dangerous for a seven year old, little genius or not.

“What happened Jango?” Roz’s voice brought him back from his musings and he sighed. Setting his helmet down on her desk he took a seat and ran a hand through his short, curly, hair.

“Slavers, Roz. They had my boy.” Stiffening, her eyes going wide, Roz looked at him in horror.

“What? How?” He leaned back in the chair, crossing his arms. A muscle along his jaw jumped as he clenched his teeth hard enough to feel them grind.

“Drugs and an accomplice. One minute he was there and the next minute…” He’d been talking to a potential client and warned Anakin not to go far. By now the guilds knew he had a kid and word was spreading fast about Anakin but it seemed that the scum of the galaxy were sorely lacking both information and self preservation instincts. His son had been across the street in a droid shop. He should have been safe! But they’d drugged his son and smuggled him out a back door.

Jango felt no remorse for torturing the bastard who’d sat back and let some slavers steal his son.

“They have a whole operation going. Dealing in kids.” His entire body burned with fury as he stared Roz in the eyes. “I’m going to dismantle it.” Roz grinned at him, yellow eyes filled with understanding. “Mando’ad draar digu.” He said with conviction.

A Mandalorian never forgets.

[Ani]

Anakin liked Auntie Roz. She was very kind, even if she didn’t let him get away with some of the things his dad did. She gave him access to everything on the station except the parts that his dad said were too dangerous, like the fighting pits. He was allowed to watch the swoop races if he went with a bodyguard though so he didn’t mind. He didn’t like the fighting pits anyway, they reminded him of Tatooine.

Looking around at his room he thought back to the first time he’d set foot on the station and just how scared he was. It felt like so long ago, like the Anakin from before was someone else... Well, he guessed he kind of was. Anakin Skywalker was a slave boy from Tatooine with a mom and a master. Anakin Fett was a Mandalorian, the son of a bounty hunter who traveled the stars.

He didn’t remember how he’d been adopted, not completely. It always came in confusing flashes that hurt his head and made him crawl into his father’s lap for a hug, trembling in fear. It wasn’t often that he had those moments any more but every once in a while something would happen and he’d just flash back to that moment.

He remembered turning a corner and running right into the man who would become his dad. He’d been carrying some cables… he didn’t remember why. Behind him his mother was struggling a little with a heavy basket and calling for him to slow down. There was a flash and a scream before the air was filled with the sound of blaster bolts. The cables tangled in the man’s legs as Anakin tripped, startled by the sudden noise. An explosion went off behind him and he remembered clapping his hands to his ears as large gloved hands pulled him to an armored chest. The next thing he knew he was scrambling over to his mom, who’d fallen to the ground. She was bleeding heavily but her smile and kind eyes were the same as always. She looked up at the armored man, who had blasters in his hands and was crouched next to him saying… something.

“Please…” His mother had begged, her voice raspy. “Take care of my s-son.” The last thing he remembers from that day was her telling him she loved him and then seeing her soulless eyes. Everything from there was just… blank. Dad didn’t tell him what had happened after that except to make sure he understood that he was free and that he was being adopted.

On Tatooine it wasn’t uncommon for someone to be adopted. Slaves often had a wide network of people they could call family. But he and his mom had been newly sold and hadn’t earned the trust of the others yet. He’d had no one but his mom. But then Jango called him his son. Said words that Anakin still didn’t quite know the meaning of and taken him far away from Tatooine.

Then he’d met Auntie Roz and she had practically cooed at him when she saw him. Unlike Watto she wasn’t gruff and didn’t yell at him and his dad. She made snappy remarks but his dad just seemed to think they were funny and would roll his eyes.

Speaking of Watto. He wasn’t sure how Auntie Roz knew about his old master but she’d said something to Jango that had left Anakin confused. Something about his dad owing her a favor for helping him with Watto. Which made no sense since Auntie Roz hadn’t been on Tatooine to help… unless that was one of the things he couldn’t remember.

“An’ika! I need to leave soon, come say good-bye.” Leaving his bag opened but unpacked on his bed he rushed out into the living room and hurried to give his dad a hug. Jango picked him up with a smile and Anakin threw his arms around his neck. His dad had only ever left him with Auntie Roz when his job was so dangerous that even the ship wasn’t considered safe. Even though Anakin was learning how to pilot it, and his dad called him a natural, he still wasn’t old enough to help. Not yet.

“K’oyacyi!” Jango pressed their foreheads together and Anakin beamed. His dad had told him it was the Mandalorian equivalent to a hug, something that you only do with family and close friends.

“K’oyacyi, ner shu’shu’ika. Don’t cause too much trouble for your ba’vodu.” Although his voice was stern Anakin could see the amusement dancing in his eyes.

“Lek, buir!” Jango set him down on the floor and grabbed his helmet. They shared one last look before his father was turning and heading out the door. Anakin stood there for long moments, staring at the doorway his father had left through.

“He’ll be fine. Don’t you worry about it, sweetie.” Anakin grinned up at his aunt.

“I know. He’s the best!” He had every confidence that his dad would come back.

Mando'a Translations:

Osik- shell
K’oyaci- Has a few different meanings depending on context. Anakin is telling his dad to come back safely and Jango is telling Anakin to hang in there while he’s gone.
Ner shu’shu’ika- My little disaster.
Ba'vodu- Aunt
Lek buir- Yes dad.

Nice little intersection with Obi-Wan and Qui-gon there, good throw back to presumably their mission with Duchess Satine too, feels like the pieces are slowly weaving together each chapter another component to be wound together later I think. Well done.

Got it in one! And thank you. :)

Chapter 5: Haran

In his secure base on Rorak 4 the red Nikto lounged inside his luxury apartment. The new shipment was already being processed and he could already envision the wealth of credits he’d be swimming in once the sale went through. Sipping at the alcoholic beverage in his hand he leered over the datapad at some of the merchandise. Opening a channel he called down to the guards and ordered them to bring him a specific product from the new shipment. A thrill of anticipation ran through him as he waited.

And waited.

And waited.

Calling down again he cursed at the guards and demanded to know what was taking so long. But there was no response, only static. An explosion rocked the very foundation of his base and K’tharsin cursed vehemently as he flicked through different channels, trying to contact any of his guards. No one was responding.

Behind him the door to his expensive apartment blew off its hinges and he scrambled toward the panic room he’d had built into the place since day one. From the smoke and haze of debris a whipcord zipped through the air and latched onto his leg. The owner of the whipcord grabbed the end and yanked, hard, slamming the red Nikto into the ground with enough force to daze him.

Storming into the room, fierce like a stalking predator, was a Mandalorian in silver armor with a blue flight suit. Terror swamped K’tharsin as he immediately recognized the famed bounty hunter. “Wait! Please! I-I’ll pay you double whatever the price on my head is!” The Mandalorian stopped, black visor staring down at him coldly. Before he could even think to offer more credits two blaster bolts seared into his skull and three more through his torso.

“Who said anything about credits?” Jango said to no one as he untied his whipcord, turned on his heel, and left the dead Nikto behind.

[Shiona]

Helping Maav load more of the kids into the transport the purple Twi’lek felt her stomach roil in disgust and chest burn with rage. When Jango had come out of nowhere, asking for a favor, she’d punched him in the side of the head before hugging the daylights out of him. They’d heard tales there was a possibility he was alive and had learned about the bounty hunter sharing the name of their lost Mand’alor but hadn’t wanted to believe, in case it was just some trick to draw them out of hiding.

What she learned of the aftermath of Galidraan set her blood to boiling. Now, after years of thinking their king was dead, he returned asking for a favor? There had to be a pretty damn good reason for it.

Lo and behold there was, and his name was Anakin.

The picture Jango showed her was one that had been taken by someone else, a candid shot if ever she’d seen one. The blonde was sitting on Jango’s lap holding up a little flag with a racing logo on it, a wide grin on his face and eyes sparkling with joy. The gentle smile on Jango’s face as he watched his son was enough to make Shiona’s heart melt. It was obvious how much he cared for the boy.

So when he explained that someone had nearly kidnapped him to put him back into slavery, that the one responsible was purposefully targeting kids to sell, she gathered a few of the Haat Mando’ade she’d kept in contact with and got them in on the raid. When they learned they were saving kids from slavery none of them even asked if there was a contract or reward. Kids were precious, regardless of whose kids they were. Not to mention the inherent disgust at slavery in general.

Their reaction to Jango had been a mixed bag of joy, grief, anger, and disbelief but in the end they all accepted that he was, in fact, the Mand’alor- and that their Mand’alor was calling them to action.

No one cared that it was out of revenge for messing with Jango’s son. No one cared that they had been divided for years after Jango’s reported death. The Haat Mando’ade weren’t going to sit back when someone was dealing in kids. Especially if they’d attempted to try and snatch the Mand’alor’s son. That was a very deep and personal offense none of them were about to let slide.

“That’s the last of them, Captain. We’ll meet you at the rendezvous and head toward our destination from there. Safe travels.” Shiona waved the man on and got back into her ship. Maav, seeing she had things well in hand, quickly headed to the cockpit to start up the ship.

“Captain, got a present for you.” Catching the datachip out of the air she looked it over then raised a brow at Zermot, their most talented slicer.

“What’s this?” The man grinned at her.

“Proof.” Her eyebrows rose and she eyed the man curiously.

“Proof of what?” She asked him, fondly exasperated.

“Of why you shouldn’t mess with Mando’ade.” He paused. “And that Jango’s back. Our comrades are going to want proof.” She nodded and slipped the datachip into one of her waist pouches. She knew just the person she could send a copy of whatever Zermot had cooked up.

[Roz]

Watching the scene play out again the pink Toydarian chuckled with dark amusement. Trust Jango to take his revenge in the most daring, competent, and vicious raid anyone had seen in years. It was a neat military operation the likes of which could only be accomplished by a tactical mind and a trained mercenary force. The bounty hunting guilds couldn’t even fault him for it, either. Not only was he freeing enslaved children, which no respectable guild would dare disagree with, but the organization had tried to steal his own child. Roz knew the guild would look the other way on the matter.

“What’s so funny ba’vodu?” Clicking off the video she smiled at the blonde head that was peeking into the room, smudges of grease across a pale forehead and nose.

“Nothing, sweetheart. Just a silly video a friend sent me.” Anakin’s nose scrunched up as he scrutinized her and she smiled. “What are you working on now? I hope you didn’t take apart one of my expensive appliances again without asking.” Blue eyes went wide and darted toward whatever it was before coming back to rest on her.

“Uh… naas. Dar’baati, ba’vodu.” ‘Nothing. Don’t worry, auntie.’ Roz let out a sigh. Jango was going to have to teach the boy how to lie better, he was absolutely abysmal at it. Especially since he always slipped into Mando’a whenever he tried. It was a dead giveaway for anyone who knew him.

“Anakin.” She said sternly. The boy blushed and chewed on his bottom lip.

“Okay, but… you looked really busy and I actually know how to fix it this time! It was leaking anyway and I thought it would be nice to do something for you…” She wanted to be cross with him, she really did, but she just couldn’t bring herself to be. Not when he was trying so earnestly to do something nice for her.

“Fine, I’ll overlook it this time. As long as there’s no mess and it actually works when you’re finished.” A smile like a sunrise crossed his face and he was quickly nodding.

“Lek ba’vodu!” ‘Okay auntie!’ Roz sighed as the boy darted off, he was always so full of energy it was a wonder Jango could keep up with him. She honestly never thought she’d learn to speak Mando’a either and yet here she was helping a little Mandalorian child to learn his basic letters and how to hold simple conversations. It was something she knew Jango had once thought to leave behind him, to keep to himself and never speak about with her, but his son just had a way of bringing hope and light to everything he touched… except for her washing machine. That poor thing looked like someone had stuffed a frag grenade inside by the time Anakin had finished with it and tried to turn it on.

The comm on her desk chimed and she flew over to answer. “Yes? What is it?” There was a request for docking from five ships, none of them with familiar transponder codes and all of them clearly of Mandalorian make. Roz smiled and granted them access. She had no doubt that Jango wouldn’t be far behind.

“Anakin!” She called. The boy came running into the room, wiping his hands on a greasy rag.

“Yes auntie?” Landing beside him she smiled and ruffled his hair, which made him pout.

“Go get cleaned up, quickly. There are some guests in the hangar and your buir should be right behind them.” Anakin whooped and ran off to get cleaned up, leaving Roz to smile warmly at his retreating back.

[Anakin]

Once he was properly washed and changed into the nice tunics his buir had bought him he followed Auntie Roz to the docks, feeling as if he was going to explode with excitement and joy. He was so happy that his buir was back and if he wasn’t heading straight for the medics it meant he wasn’t hurt! Anakin preferred when his buir came home in one piece, since he hated to see him hurt. It reminded him too much of the last time he saw his mom and then he got all sad and anxious…

When they reached the docks his buir was standing with a group of people, although Anakin didn’t really pay them any mind. He wanted to make sure his buir was there, real and whole. Running as fast as he could, ducking around the workers and other guests, he barreled right into his buir’s side, clinging to him as if he could be taken away at any moment. “Su’cuy buir!” ‘Hi dad!’ His buir let out a chuckle and pried him off, making him pout, before he was being lifted into the man’s arms for a proper hug.

All the conversation stopped and he could feel the curious eyes of the people his dad had been talking to. “Anade, ner ad Anakin.” ‘Everyone, my son Anakin.’ Smiling he waved at the group of armored individuals, staring at their armor in open curiosity and awe. “Anakin, anade.” ‘Anakin, everyone.’ Jango made a few hand motions that Anakin didn’t yet understand, since his buir said he needed to learn Mando’a before he could learn the Tigaan, or Mandalorian Hand Signs. After a moment of hesitation the other Mandalorians removed their helmets, except for one of them. They made a few small hand gestures at at his dad, who nodded respectfully back. The last Mandalorian kept their helmet on.

“Su’cuy gar, anade!” ‘Hello, everybody!’ Anakin said with a wide grin, happy that he could talk to them in Mando’a at least. The first Mandalorian, a purple Twi’lek, smiled at him.

“It’s nice to meet you, An’ika. Your buir told us all about you.” Anakin looked at his dad, eyes wide. His dad just chuckled and ran a hand through his hair to soothe his sudden embarrassment.

“Mand’alor, I’m sorry to interrupt but we need to talk about the ade.” His buir frowned and he could feel his mood turn from content/amused/joy to rage/sadness/determination. Flinching back slightly he looked the man in the eyes for a moment before giving him another hug.

“What are they talking about, buir?” Jango hugged him back, arms protective rather than smothering.

“Remember the hut’uune that took you?” Anakin nodded solemnly, his eyes going hard at the memory. “They took other kids too. We went to rescue them.” Anakin’s eyes widened and he began to shake slightly as he gripped his buir’s armor.

“D-did they have chips too? Can I go see them?” Buir felt hesitant and defensive in the force but his expression became calm and contemplative so he stayed still, almost wanting to hold his breath waiting for the answer.

“You can come with me to see them. But if I think you’re in danger and I tell you to go you will listen to me, An’ika. Tion suvarir?” Yes, he nodded, he understood. Buir set him down and took of his helmet, clipping it to his belt before taking Anakin’s hand.

They had some former slave children to help and Anakin would do his best to make them understand that Mandalorians were nothing to be afraid of.

Chapter 6: Tomade

[Jango]

Sitting on the couch with Anakin sprawled over his lap, dead asleep, he ran a hand through the blonde’s hair and chuckled when the boy let out an undignified snore. Anakin had walked with him among the child slaves and carefully coaxed the kids into trusting the armored figures who had gone to rescue them. Among their number they had found a few who were Ka’runi and some who were injured but had been hiding it for fear they would be killed.

The fact that children had been scared they would be killed if they were too wounded or sick had disgusted and angered him to the point where he’d let one of the others take over for a moment while he left to calm down. Thankfully only a few of them had any kind of chip and none of them were explosive. Roz had quickly organized what medical staff she had on the station to take over looking after the kids. Some of them had homes and families to get back to.

“He’s very brave.” Looking up at Partra’s indigo helmet he grinned.

“He’s Mandokarla.” He couldn’t see their face but he knew the slight tilt of their helmet meant they were amused.

“And Ka’runi.” Jango stiffened for a moment before forcing himself to relax.

“Like attracts like?” He asked, eyes narrowing slightly. Jango had always suspected the reason Partra didn’t interact as much with others, and never took off their helmet, was because they were Ka’runi and wanted to hide it. Some clans were far more strict than others when it came to force sensitivity. Partra nodded slowly.

“He feels like a newborn star, even asleep.” Frowning he looked down at his son. “There are going to be those who want him for themselves just because of what he is. What he could do.” There was a graveness to their modulated voice that sent a shiver of fear down Jango’s spine.

“I won’t let anyone take him from me. They’ll have to kill me first.” He snarled, squaring his shoulders and glaring at the other Mando’ad.

“Good. He’ll need you… try not to die.” Turning on their heel they quickly walked away, leaving Jango alone with his son and his thoughts.

“Alor.” Looking over his shoulder he saw Shiona leaning on the back of the couch, smiling gently down at the sleeping blonde. “We need to talk.” Jango felt his stomach clench.

“About what?” Shiona’s eyes hardened and she rose to her full height.

“About the future.” Jango let out a large sigh and carefully lifted his son into his arms. Anakin woke, blinked bleary blue eyes at him, and smiled before promptly falling back to sleep. Shiona snorted in amusement and signed that she would be waiting for him with the others.

Jango put his kid to bed and asked Roz to make sure he wasn’t alone if he woke from a nightmare. After seeing and speaking with the child slaves he was more likely to remember his own time as a slave and wake in a cold sweat. There had been many nights where Jango’d had to rock his son to sleep because he woke in a panic.

Entering the sitting room he looked over the nine gathered Mando’ade and grit his teeth. It was time to face his past and those he let down.

It was not going to be a fun night.

[Anakin]

Waking with a gasp he gulped in mouthfuls of air, looking around the room with wide eyes. Auntie Roz jumped slightly in a seat near his bed and quickly flew over to him. “Oh honey, are you okay?” He shivered at the cool air touching his heated skin and pulled away when she reached out to stroke his hair. It wasn’t that Auntie Roz wasn’t someone he trusted, he wasn’t scared of her, but right then he needed his dad. Something was screaming at him and he needed to move.

“Sorry Auntie!” He said said as he jumped out of bed and dodged past her.

“Anakin! Wait!” Bursting into the living room he spied his dad and immediately dove into his side, hiding his face. His dad stiffened for a moment before relaxing and mumbling reassuringly in Mando’a.

“Dar’baati, ad’ike. Udesii. Bic shi cuyir dush’vercopa.” ‘Don’t worry, little one. Calm down. It’s just a nightmare.’ Anakin shook his head, still hiding his face from the Mando’ade in the room.

“Haat haa’it.” ‘True vision.’ He said. “Nu’dush’vercopa.” ‘Not a nightmare.’ He knew it all the way to his soul that the images that flashed through his mind were real, and he didn’t want them to happen. “They wore black and had a red claw mark on their beskar’gam, there were explosions!” So many people were going to die! They had to stop it from happening.

“Udesii, ner ad, ni cuy’olar.” ‘Calm down, my son, I’m here.’ He felt his dad’s focused intent and slowly the shaking went away. When he finally felt like he could breathe he pulled his head out from under his father’s arm and looked up at him. Jango smiled and ruffled his hair. “Let me take you back to bed, kiddo. You can write down your haa’it on your datapad before you go back to sleep and we’ll discuss it in the morning.” Anakin nodded and let his dad pick him up. He could feel eyes on the both of them and looked over at the warriors shyly, embarrassed that they had seen him freaking out.

“Um… jate ca anade.” ‘Good night everyone.’ There were a few snickers and smiles but he didn’t get the feeling they were laughing at him. If anything they felt worried about him and his dad. It was kind of nice. It made him feel like the accepted him and his dad.

After he was put back to bed and handed his datapad he wrote down as much as he could remember while his aunt sat nearby and hummed to herself while she worked. The sound helped him calm down further and he eventually slipped into a dreamless sleep.

Chapter 7: Aloriya

Keldabe. He hadn’t been back to the capitol city for years. The familiar sights and sounds made him ache deep in his core as he watched Mando’ade going about their daily business among the crowded streets. At his side, hand held firmly in his own, Anakin stared at everything in excited awe, pointing at things and asking him questions in a mix of Basic, Huttese, Ryl, and Mando’a that was almost too fast to translate.

Stopping by one of the many food vendors he grabbed two skewers of cooked meat and a small bag of spiced candies. Anakin took the skewer and thanked the vendor in Mando’a before biting into it. Thankfully the boy’s home planet hadn’t been been particularly fussy about food and his son could practically eat anything. Including insects, which was a bit disturbing but at least it was a good survival skill.

When they were finished they stopped by a fountain and he wet a handkerchief to clean the boy’s hands. “This is a cinnamon sweet. It’s a little spicy. Would you like to try it?” The boy nodded eagerly and opened his hand for one. Jango chuckled and gave him one of the fiery hard candies to suck on. Popping one in his own mouth he slipped the sweets into a pouch on his belt before taking Anakin’s hand once more. They had a ways to walk yet before they came to his favourite inn. He had stayed at the Tranyc Vhetin many times, both with his buir and alone after the man had died on Korda VI.

Coming into the cozy building he felt a wave of nostalgia wash over him. Anakin looked up at him, blue eyes sharp, and hugged his waist. Of course his little Ka’runi would sense how off kilter he was. Even Partra had admitted the boy was the brightest soul he’d ever felt, and the jetii from the diner had to have felt something seeing as he had tried to ask whether or not his son had been ‘tested.’ Jango didn’t want to know how the jetii tested kids. It’d probably just piss him off to know.

“Solus yamika par gar bal gar ad?” ‘One room for you and your child?’ The staff member at the desk asked, looking between he and his son with a small smile.

“Elek, vor’e.” ‘Yes, thank you.’ Anakin practically bounced up the stairs once they were given a key, making Jango chuckle in amusement.

On the second floor his son was examining the doors, his face scrunched slightly as he tried to remember how to differentiate between the different numbers in Mandalorian Script. Finding their room he opened the door and let the two of them inside. Closing and locking the door behind him he slipped his bucket back off and set it down on the small table near the door. Anakin ran over to the window and drew the curtains, letting in the light. Opening the window he looked out over the street at the colorful banners flapping in the breeze.

“Kandosii!” ‘Wicked!’ Jango let out a low chuckle and went about checking the room for anything potentially dangerous. Not that he believed the innkeepers would have bugged the room or anything like that, but it always paid to be prepared.

Sitting at the small table he watched Anakin dropping his kit bag on the smaller of the two beds and rummage through it. Pulling out his small amenities bag he went to put them in the fresher, exclaiming in surprise when he saw the actual washing tub in the antique style room. “Buir? What’s this for?” He asked, poking his head out.

“It’s a washing tub. You fill it with water and bathe in it. We used to have one on the farm where I grew up. Buir would wash our clothes in it during the cold season.” The emotions associated with the memories of his younger days had dulled over time but he could still feel that burning sadness and anger in his core. So many of those he cared about had been taken away from him…

“Buir?” He looked down at his son, who stood there with an understanding look in his liquid blue eyes. “I’m sorry you’re sad. I know I can’t make it go away. But I can give you a hug?” Smiling he opened his arms for his boy and let out a shaky breath.

“Sadness is a part of life, An’ika. It will fade with time but it never really goes away.” The boy made a thoughtful noise.

“Why do we have to feel sad?” Jango frowned. His kid was too young to keep asking all these philosophical questions, his genius be damned. But he knew it was the nature of children to be curious.

“If we never felt sad then the times we’re happy wouldn’t feel as special. Everyone has happy and sad times, An’ika. It helps shape who we are.” He pulled back and looked down at his son. “But we’ll talk more about that another day. Just because we’re not on the ship doesn’t mean you can skip training or meditation. Get changed.” The blonde gave him a small pout.

“Aw, okay.”

[Anakin]

Walking with his father through the busy streets he couldn’t help but be reminded a little of Tatooine. The district they were in now was called Mayen Goyust, or Anything Road. It was where his dad said they could find all sorts of cool things. From weapons to new clothes, jewelry, and even toys! Everywhere they went his dadseemed to attract attention. They kept looking at his face, then his armor, then his face again. A lot of the time there would be a sense of recognition before the other feelings would come.

Fear, anger, dread, relief, joy, hope. So many and they just kept coming. He heard the whispers behind them as they passed and soon he could feel their focus shift from his dad to him. It was really uncomfortable. “Buir…” He mumbled, tightening his hold on his dad’s hand and stepping closer to him shyly. Like all the other times his dad felt protective and unnerved he quickly scooped Anakin up into his arms and began walking faster toward whatever the location of his mission was.

They came up to a building that felt really, really, old and Anakin couldn’t help but to stare as they walked right in without stopping. Wherever this was his dad felt like he belonged there.

Inside the building it smelled like heavy spices and ale. Sitting at the tables were men and women wearing armor a lot like his dad's. But theirs was all painted while his dad's was all silver. He wondered if his dad would paint it. In his vision his own armor was always black and blue with red accents. His dad still hadn’t told him what all the colors meant yet. Apparently the meaning could change depending on clan.

Setting him down his dad took a seat at a table and motioned someone over. A woman in tunics cut like the people outside hurried over with a smile, although she felt jumpy on the inside. “Su’cuy gar jatne’vode! Me’copaani?”

“Tiingilar, ne’tra gal, shig, bal ibi’tuur vutyc par ner ad.” Anakin understood most of the words but not all of them. He waited patiently until the woman walked away.

Taking a deep breath he was about to ask questions when his dad grinned at him. “Tiingilar is a very spicy dish, made with meat, grains, and vegetables. Ne’tra gal is black ale, something you can’t have until you’re much older. Ibi’tuur vutcy is the day’s special. Just like at Dex’s.” Letting out a huff he pouted as his dad anticipated all of his questions and answered them rapidly. The man had the gall to laugh at him. “We’ll have to set aside some more joha hibirar’la.” ‘Language lessons.’ Anakin nodded excitedly. He loved learning Mando’a. It was the first language he wanted to learn by choice, rather than necessity. Since his dad spoke perfect Basic and was really good at Huttese they had no trouble communicating from the very start. But Mando’a was something they could share between them and that made it special.

“Can I try your tin-tiinga-tiingilar?” His dad ruffled his hair.

“Sure you can, kiddo. But it’s even more spicy than the cinnamon sweet from earlier.” Anakin made a face. He’d liked the bright red candy at first. But the more he sucked on it the more spicy it became. Eventually he’d complained to his dad, who laughed, and had him spit it out into a handkerchief. Then his dad bought him a small iced milk treat to make up for the spiciness.

“…maybe I won’t try it today.” His father’s face split into a mischievous smile and he could feel the man’s bright amusement in the force. He stuck his tongue out at him and his dad barked out a laugh. It was rare his dad actually laughed, usually he just smiled or chuckled. Anakin counted this as a victory.

“Cuyir ibac tion'ad ni mirdir bic cuyir?” 'Is that who I think it is?' A wave of strong emotions ran through his dad when the man looked over his shoulder, before his presence suddenly became as smooth as beskar. His hands twitched towards his blasters for a moment but he stopped, clenching them instead.

“Vizsla.” Anakin shivered at the anger he could hear dripping from his dad’s voice. Everyone in the tapcaf was watching the two men warily, ready for a fight to break out.

“Yaimparla teh kyr’am, Jango Fett?” 'Back from the dead, Jango Fett?' The man who felt like cold fire turned to look at him and Anakin froze in place. Maybe if he didn’t move the man wouldn’t notice him? “Tion’ad adiik? Gar?” 'Whose child is that? Yours?' Growling his dad stood up from his chair, knocking it back onto the floor.

“Copaani mirshmure'cye, vod?” 'You want a smack to the face, mate?' His dad spat the words like venom and Anakin ducked his head, scared. His dad glanced back at him and slowly let out a breath. The brimming anger in the air lessened and his dad picked up his chair to right it again, never turning his back on the man who felt like cold fire. “Digur bic. Ba’slanar, Vizsla. Ni nu'copad at haa'taylir gar troan.” 'Forget it. Leave, Vizsla. I don’t want to see your face.' Pointedly turning around his dad sat back down, giving Anakin a complicated look.

“Hut’uun.” ‘Coward.’ The bad man said from behind them. Anakin stood up on his chair and glared at the man.

“Nayc! Buir cuyir ne’hut’uun! Tun otaf’alkin!” ‘No! Dad is not a coward! You cave butcher!’ He shouted in a mix of Mando’a and Ryl. Around the room objects rattled on tables and the wall, some items falling to the floor as his control began to slip.

The man scowled at him and took a step forward, only to be stopped as others stood from their seats in response. His dad grabbed him and pulled him into his lap, hiding him from the cold-fire man with shaking hands. Anakin’s anger evaporated and he quickly snuggled into his father’s hold, not wanting to cause him any more grief.

“Ba’slanar, Vizsla. Jii.” ‘Leave, Vizsla. Now.’ Anakin peeked over his father’s shoulder as the bad man left with the people who came in with him.

One of the armored warriors came over to them slowly, making sure to walk where his father could see them. “Me’vaar Jan’ika?” ‘You okay Jan’ika?’ His dad looked up at the man, eyes searching, before he nodded curtly.

[Jango]

Holding his son to him Jango had to breathe deeply to keep from getting up, following Vizsla out into the street, and shooting him in the back of the head. If it weren’t for Anakin being there he very well may have lost his mind to anger and fought the rotten bastard to the death right then. He knew that Vizsla had no honor and now the man knew he had a vulnerable son. He wouldn’t put it past the bastard to target a child if it helped him achieve his goals.

“Are you okay Jan’ika?” Looking into the speaker’s eyes he recognized Kadaab of Clan Egress, a Clan who had chosen to follow Jaster’s codex. He nodded, unsure if he could speak without his voice shaking. It was not fear or cowardice he struggled with at the moment, but his sheer overpowering hatred for anyone wearing Vizsla’s colors. He hadn’t even recognized the young man, just the armor he wore.

Jango didn’t want to subject his son to that hatred. He knew what happened to Ka’runi when hatred became their only focus. He never wanted to see Anakin become like that. It would break his heart.

“Buir? I’m sorry. I got mad and yelled… and moved stuff again.” Kadaab looked between the boy and the frames that had fallen off the wall. His eyes widened with understanding.

“Jan’ika.” He looked back at the older man. “Protecting your child does not make you a coward. Vizsla’s full of it, and everyone who matters knows it.” Jango felt tension bleed out of him as he looked around the room and was met with understanding. Nearly everyone there had been or currently was a parent. Jango swallowed a lump in his throat.

“Thank you.” Now that things were calming down the old woman from the back came to their table and set down their food. “Thank you, Ati’ba.” Jango said sincerely as he settled Anakin back in his own seat. The old woman smiled at him, winked at Anakin, and shuffled off back to the kitchen.

Anakin watched the old woman go, transfixed, until she vanished into the back. Then he turned to Jango, eyes as wide as saucers. “Buir! I think that old lady is a ghost!” Chuckles erupted around them and Kadaab snorted in amusement.

“Don’t worry about it, child.” The man said as he returned to his own table. Jango took a sip of his ale and smiled. His reaction had been much the same as Anakin’s back in the day.

Watching his son digging into the fish and rice dish that had been brought out to him Jango felt the last of his anger melt away. He had made the right decision not to engage Vizsla. That bastard’s time would come. Right now Jango had more important things to do.

Translations;

Su’cuy gar jatne’vode! Me’copaani?- Hello Sirs! What would you like?
Tiingilar, ne’tra gal, shig, bal ibi’tuur vutyc par ner ad- Tiingilar, black ale, shig, and today’s special for my child.
Otaf’alkin!- (Ryl) A reptilian predator native to Ryloth and found deep in the underground caverns, the name literally means “cave butcher.” It is also used as an insult to indicate one who kills without remorse, as if they were a heartless animal.

Vizsla...hmmm...combined with Anakin's visions...that is very interesting indeed, that's the great thing about alternate universes like this, you sort of have an idea of the characters, places and motivations, but the reworking into whole new story line means nothing is predictable. Great job.

Thank you so much. :)

Chapter 8: Aliit

Introducing Anakin to more of the Haat Mando’ade left Jango feeling very conflicted. A few of them still harbored a lot of anger towards him for how he had disappeared all those years ago. Thankfully most of them came to understand the horror that had been inflicted upon him and forgave his absence. Being enslaved after losing everyone he cared about had broken him. He didn’t feel like he deserved the title of Mand’alor, didn’t think he could handle the reminder of his greatest failures.

Then Anakin, his bight little star, had come into his life and given him something to hold onto. None of them said it but he knew at least a few of them were thinking it. The boy had saved his life and what remained of his sanity.

Sitting down to a large meeting with the heads of various clans he was surprised just how many people still believed in Jaster’s ideals, and how many more had joined up after Kryze and Vizla had come into power. While Jango certainly, and obviously, hated Vizla he had almost as much disdain for Kryze and her tyrannical ways. The Mand’alor could call upon the warriors of Mandalore and expect them to come when called to action. But the Mand’alor also understood that there were other walks of life that needed to be honored as well. Farming, crafting, raising children, all of that was just as important and honorable as being a warrior. Kryze didn’t get it. She and her New Mandalorians thought that the Resol’nare had no room for those who did not fight as a way of life. Because she didn’t understand she forced her own ‘ideals’ on the people, subjugating those who just wanted to continue living as their forefathers had for generations.

A foolish child throwing a tantrum because not everything was going her way. If it wasn’t for the fact that she was destroying his people’s heritage he might have pitied her. Her father had been a good man, honorable, and she was disrespecting everything he stood for in her search of a mythical ‘peace’ that didn’t, and would never, exist.

“Jango, you’re being a stubborn bastard about this.” Dennan of Clan Haarok hissed, slamming his fist into the top of the table. “Just accept the position and let us move on to other matters.” Currently he and his son found themselves as guests of what remained of House Mereel. Now that Jango had returned everyone was more or less intent on thrusting him into the position of Clan Head immediately.

“Clan Mereel is gone. Everyone who had any claim to the name is dead.” Except, technically, himself. As the adopted son of Jaster he could always take the man’s last name for himself. But in doing so it would be erasing a part of his own history, part of what made him who he was. Jaster had never asked him to change his name and never expected it of him.

"Jango... he made you his heir. You don't have to take his name, everyone here knows you are the rightful head of Clan Mereel. Don't dismiss this out of hand, Jaster deserved more than that." Some around the table flinched, glancing between Shiona and himself. Originally she had been one of Jaster's lieutenants, someone he could trust to get shell done. Somehow, even now, she still held onto the authority that had been placed into her capable hands.

He wanted to argue, to curse them for bringing him there, but he knew it wasn't their fault. Jango's failures were his own. "Fine." Standing he placed a fist over his chest. "I am Jango Fett, Leader of House Mereel, son and heir, now Head, of Clan Mereel. I swear to hold my position with honor, to lead you in fairness, and to enact swift vengeance against anyone who dares to cross us." He gave Shiona a look but she just beamed at him. Tensions in the room began to lessen as he sat back down. Now that everyone knew where they stood, where Jango was in the hierarchy, they felt more inclined to work with one another.

"One last matter of House business." Jervun of Clan Menzai stated, calling everyone's attention to him. "Alor, will your son be the heir to the Clan? Or the heir to both?" Jango felt as if someone had shoved electricity down his spine, it was an uncomfortable feeling. The thought of Anakin being the heir to a clan and house that had already been through so much hardship made him clench his hands. He didn't want to hand over the curse that seemed to plague him his entire life. But... Anakin had seen himself as Mand'alor. Or at the very least wielding the Darksaber. If that vision of the future was to come about he would need as much advantage as possible.

"Both. But not only that." He had the entire room's attention, it was like old times. "I name Anakin Fett as heir to the title of Mand'alor." There were gasps from more than one mouth and he gave them all a humorless grin.

"Jango, he's only seven! You're going to paint a target on that child's back!" Tavi of Clan Ysom practically yelled from down the table.

"Anakin is Ka'runi, powerful enough that a passing jetii immediately noticed and tried to talk to him." If he hadn't been in the middle of Dex's diner he might have killed the bastard. Just in case he decided to tell the other jetii about Anakin. "His appointment as my chosen heir to the position of Mand'alor doesn't need to leave this room." He looked every sentient in the eyes, or in some cases the visor of their helmet.

"I hope you know what you're doing, Alor." Tavi muttered, crossing her arms as she leaned back in her chair.

"I have some idea." Laying his arms over his legs he leaned forward. "Tell me everything I missed. We need to start planning." The look of relief and hope on their faces made him want to flinch. Jango still wasn't sure if he could be the leader they needed but by the stars he was going to try his damnedest to make things right.

[Anakin]

Life since they'd come to Manda'yaim was really interesting. His dad still made him practice hand to hand, how to shoot a blaster, and how to make traps. But now he had an hours worth of training a day with a man named Wad'e. When he'd first shown up in his purple armor Anakin had been a bit nervous, he was a very quiet man. But at his dad's prompting the man had brought out a pair of beskad and Anakin's apprehension had fallen away.

He got to learn how to fight with a sword!

It was a lot of hard work, just like all his other training, but it became one of the most fun parts of his day. Even more than his language lessons with Runa, who seemed to know every language ever.

Even though he and his dad would return to the same place to sleep at night Anakin began to notice how busy everyone was around him. How his dad barely had any time to do anything besides meditate with him during the day. He knew that his dad had an important new job now, one that needed a lot of planning, but he couldn't help feeling ignored.

"Hey, verd'ika, you okay? You're distracted." 'Little warrior.' Blinking up at Wad'e he felt his face flush in embarrassment. The man had been trying to show him a new strike and he had been lost in his own head again.

"N'eparavu takisit, Adat'juri Tay'haai." 'I'm sorry, Teacher Tay'haai.' He said politely with a small bow. The man watched him through his dark visor, Anakin could feel the man's eyes scrutinizing him.

"It's alright ner hibir." 'My student.' Crouching down he reached over, almost hesitantly, and put a hand on Anakin's head. "But if something's wrong you can talk to me." Anakin bit his lip and looked down, a bad habit from his life before.

"...do you think buir's work will be done soon?" The man stiffened for a moment and a sense of uncertainty filled the air between them. Anakin let out a sigh, that was probably a no. The man ruffled his hair, making the blonde yelp in surprise.

"Your buir is a very important man. Because he's important there are a lot of people who want to speak with him right now." Pulling his hand away the man stood back up and lifted his sword once more. "It doesn't mean he loves you less, or that you're not important to him." There was a faint feeling of strong conviction and respect for his dad that made Anakin feel less anxious. "When he's finished his work why don't you just ask him for some of his time? I'm sure he'll give it to you if he knows you want it." Anakin smiled.

"Thanks Adat'juri." The man gave him a single nod and slid into the stance he had been in the middle of teaching.

"Now, make sure not to turn your foot outward, you'll want to-" Anakin followed his movements, mind focused on the lesson.

Later that evening, after dinner, he sat with his dad for meditation. No matter how hard he'd worked that day Jango always made time to sit down and do their daily meditation. It was nice, to be able to just sit and feel his father's presence so close to him. It made him feel safe and focused.

"Are you drifting, An'ika?" Opening his eyes he smiled sheepishly. Jango gave him a look somewhere between fondness and consternation. "You've been really distracted today. You okay?"

"Buir... I..." Anakin looked down at his lap, feeling almost selfish for what he wanted to ask. "Do you... think we could go out and see the city a bit? Or... maybe play a game together?" His buir watched him quietly for a moment then let out a long sigh. Anakin tried not to chew on his lips again, Shiona said it was bad for him.

"An'ika, c'mere." Getting up he walked to his father and smiled when he was pulled into a big hug. "I'm sorry I've been so busy lately. It's not your fault and I haven't forgotten about you, alright? We can go out tomorrow for lunch at the Baat." After a moment his dad pulled away slightly. "I... was planning on introducing you to more people soon. They've been asking about you."

"Why?" His buir rubbed the back of his neck.

"Because they... well they're our family." Anakin's eyes went wide. He had more family?

"Like cousins and stuff?" Jango chuckled.

"Something like that. I'm sure if you ask them nicely they can tell you stories about your ba'buir, Jaster, or even stories of me as an adiik." Anakin beamed.

"After lunch tomorrow?" His dad smiled.

"It's a promise."

Chapter 9: Ori'akto
Ori'akto [OH-ree-AHK-to]: Challenge, challenging. From the words Ori- Big/Extreme/Very, and Urakto- Hard/Difficult.


A year and a half on Manda'yaim and his son had grown immensely. Not that his personality or appearance had changed much, besides getting a little taller and his hair cut short. Rather than the shy and uncertain child he had been when they met he was growing into a confident and capable boy who seemed more in tune with his own inner power.

A year ago one of the leaders of the allied Clans in their House offered to train his son in some of the force arts she'd learned from her life before becoming Mando'ad. Jango wasn't all that surprised by how quickly his son absorbed the new lessons and implemented them into his training. He already knew his son was a genius.

His boy's only real issues seemed to be his insatiable curiosity, boundless energy, and a need to be doing something at all times, unless he was asleep. Thankfully there was always someone around to keep his hyperactive kid busy and engaged. Some days they had him fixing damaged speeders, other days it was broken droids, and on the rare occasion he even helped fix a ship or two. They'd teach him new skills and useful tricks for the field. They'd take him exploring in the fields or hunting in the forest. They even told him stories about those who had marched onward.

Each day Anakin grew more fluent in Mando'a and more knowledgeable about their culture, their way of life. He began to blend almost seamlessly with the other kids of the House, only differentiated by virtue of being Jango's son. The younger kids flocked to the boy, wanting to hear his stories or asking him to fix their toys, knowing the blonde boy would indulge them with patience and kindness. The older kids quickly learned to respect Anakin's strength and intelligence, often bringing him problems they couldn't solve alone and didn't want their parents to know about.

If anyone had any lingering doubts that Anakin was the rightful heir to the House or the title of Mand'alor they had long since given up voicing them. Now it was a waiting game.

Ducking the swing of a beskad he brought his own up into a defensive position and waited to see what else Wad'e wanted to try against him. The man's eyes glinted with amusement as Anakin cheered them both on from the sidelines, cleaning his own sword carefully even as his eyes followed the two warriors without fail.

When Jango had first contacted Wad'e and asked for his help the man had agreed to train his son for six months. "So the kid knows enough to not skewer himself at least." But after all this time the man had yet to leave. In fact he'd only gotten more invested in Anakin's training. To the point where he'd demanded Jango learn alongside his son so the boy would have other opponents to train against.

Over time more clans and unaffiliated Mando'ade slowly began to trickle in, swearing fealty to House Mereel. Every time a new clan showed up at the compound Jango had to wonder about the state of the system if so many where fleeing their homes in order to join him.

Jango did his best to meet secretly with the clans that were in areas heavily influenced by Vizsla or Kryze, wary of the possibility of betrayal. After all Jaster had lost his life when Montross betrayed him and left him to die on the battlefield. He didn't want to believe it of the Mando'ade but he had a child to keep safe, he wouldn't be taking any chances.

A lot of the clans from farther out sent representatives to try and feel him out. They seemed to be under the impression that he was a lot more aggressive in his demand for clans to join his cause, which couldn't be farther from the truth. While he wanted to amass enough power to pose a threat to Vizsla and Kryze he didn't want to be a tyrannical dictator. Part of being Mando'ad was having the choice to live your life freely. He wouldn't force anyone to stay under his command if they didn't want to be there.

Even if he was determined to wrest control of the system back from the two false leaders he knew it was not for him to accomplish. Anakin would be the future Mand'alor of a united system. Jango was just building his power base until his son was old enough.

Surprisingly his son helped ease his path during some of the negotiations with a few clans who were under the thumb of the New Mandalorians.

Just that day the boy had walked right into a meeting he was having with a group of representatives, not even looking up from is datapad and allowing the Ka'ra to guide him. His short hair was swept back and there was a smear of grease across his nose. The newly fitted durasteel armor he wore was already dented and scratched from his practice with Wad'e. Looking up when he finally sensed the others in the room he flushed slightly before giving the group a bright smile. He welcomed the representatives to their home and introduced himself politely in flawless Mando'a. Jango had been so proud of him in that moment. The representatives smiled back at the boy as Anakin turned to his father and asked for his assistance when he was finished. Then he excused himself, giving the group a polite blessing before leaving the room.

"That was your child?" One of the group asked with clear disbelief.

"Anakin, I adopted him three years ago. He's the best thing that ever happened to me." Where before there had been hesitance and resistance there was now excitement and acceptance. The representatives couldn't help but bring up their own children, sharing holos and laughing about the ridiculous things the kids got up to when no one was looking.

"An'ika likes to take things apart to see how they work. He doesn't always know how to put them back together again afterward though." The disgruntled look on his face made the group laugh and Jango knew they'd finally relaxed in his presence.

"I think we were wrong about you, Fett. It's very obvious you love your child. I can't see you diving straight into a major conflict while he's still so young." Jango frowned, surprise warring with confusion. "You have no idea what we're talking about, do you?"

They brought out a datapad and streamed a saved video. It was the security footage from when he had taken out K'tharsin and his slave operation. From the outside it looked cold and calculated, which it was. The fact that the security had picked up his comment at the end made his face feel hot with embarrassment. He wasn't usually one to make bold statements aloud, letting his work speak for itself.

"They said that this was revenge but no one ever said what for." There were questioning looks, clearly tinged with suspicion. Jango scowled. They needed more clans on their side. He couldn't hide and say it was a 'contract.' They needed to know how far he would go for his son. How far he would go for his clan and house.

"They kidnapped my son and were going to sell him back into slavery. On top of running a slave operation for children." There was a collective gasp and an almost low buzz of anger in the room. Even those with New Mandalorian leanings knew how precious children were. No matter how much Kryze tried to stamp out their culture some things would be eternal. The importance of family was one of them.

"Back into... you adopted him three years ago, hm?" Jango bristled as they put two and two together. It was not his place to speak about Anakin's experience as a slave. He gave them a single firm nod.

The group leaders looked at one another and after what felt like an eternity of silence later they pledged their support to his cause. "One of your people forwarded us Jaster Mereel's Supercommando Codex. We'd never been allowed to read it before and a few of us didn't even know it existed. While we do not wish to be warriors we agree that the Codex is more fair and honorable than we had been led to believe." That had to be the fault of Kryze. Vizsla would just tell everyone that the Codex made them weak and punish anyone who adhered to it. While Kryze was burying and destroying any texts that disagreed with her views on a peaceful Mandalore.

"I..." He swallowed. "Before I joined Clan Mereel my family were farmers." It was something he almost never spoke about, but the absolute silence that followed his words and the surprised looks on their faces was worth it. "Being a non-combatant and a True Mandalorian are not mutually exclusive. We accept those who do not wish to fight but want to contribute to our community in other ways." It was this comment, in the end, that settled them firmly in the allies category.

Once the representatives had taken their leave Jango was on his way to find his son when a call came through. "Fett."

"Jango." He frowned at the slight wavering in Roz's voice.

"What's wrong Roz? What happened?" He stopped in the hall, staring down at the communicator.

"Fett. Long time no see." Jango felt his breath hitch in his lungs. He knew that voice. It was one he could never forget.

"Montross." He growled.

"It's time to finish what I started on Korda VI." A message came through from Roz's station- a set of coordinates. "Come alone. I'll be waiting."

Getting a strong vibe here of Jango as Philip II of Macedon and Anakin as Alexander, Jango is setting up all the frame works settling old scores and building a solid stable power base...now what Anakin then does with that - if such is what happens.   Anakin is in a good place, arguably better than with the Jedi as he isn't being 'restricted' emotionally in the same way, he can be cheeky and inquisitive, even so that can all change very quickly.

Ha, I agree Lord Gray. I instantly thought of him as a little Caesar in essence. Being groomed for political leadership, managing an empire, and leading from a position of strength in battle if necessary. That's just the vibe I got from my visualization of him entering and the brief interaction, very stately and groomed toward healthy balance. As a great saying goes "Polite, professional, but with a plan to kill everyone if needed." Evoking visions of old Generals and Kings on horse back leading/coordinating armies but also engaging in battle if needed or for morale. I also agree with you it's a likely good change for him to be more "free" to be himself, develop in all ways, and have true family and love easily/readily available.

I've started looking forward to these chapters like new manga or weekly anime releases used to be. (Not to convey any undue stress/requirements on the writer attributing production deadlines or anything of the sort.) I mean it's a pleasure to look forward to seeing how the story unfolds, and for sure some enjoyable entertainment for me. So thanks again for posting/working on such a fun story. Woe to all who challenge Jango & Anakin Fett... better bring an army, and a reserve army to replace that one.

Chapter 10: Mirdala
Mirdala [MEER-dah-lah]- Clever, intelligent, intellectual.

Pacing around his utilitarian quarters, trying to make sure he had everything he could possibly need for the coming battle, Jango glanced over what he had so far and sighed. It had been years since he’d heard even a rumor of Montross and he had no idea how the dar’manda coward had changed since being banished. Should he bring extra whipchord cartridges or flamethrower fuel instead? If Montross was challenging him for a shot at the role of Mand’alor should he wear the cape that had been left for him by Jaster or not?

Staring into the open chest at the end of his cot he clenched his hands before carefully shutting the lid.

No. He didn’t deserve to wear Jaster’s cape. The next time it was worn it would be by Anakin when his son passed his verd’goten and swore to follow the Resol’nare.

Jango wasn't intending to alert anyone about what was really going on but the moment he started packing again his son was there, standing in the doorway to his quarters with a grim look on his face. “Buir, I had a vision.” Cursing under his breath he straightened and turned to regard his kid.

“Then you already know I have to leave.” The boy frowned, blue eyes bright.

“No, I didn’t know that… you’re leaving?” Aw, hell. So the vision had been about something else entirely. That didn’t bode well.

“I got an emergency call that I have to answer.” He said as neutrally as possible. Bright blue eyes watched him quietly for a moment before his son scowled.

“That’s not the truth… but you’re not lying.” Stars, his kid was too perceptive for his own good.

He sighed, running a hand through his short curls.

“I’ve been challenged.” He said, tone serious. “It’s something I have to do. You know why.” Anakin’s expression twisted with worry, his hands clenching into the fabric of his trousers as his shoulders tensed.

“In my vision Auntie Roz was in danger. We have to go help her or she’s going to die.” Jango felt as if someone had injected ice water into his veins. He had heard the broken sound of Roz’s voice over the holocall and didn’t want to imagine the state she was currently in. Montross had always been a cold-hearted bastard.

“Shab.” He muttered vehemently. Taking a moment to breathe through the rage, knowing it would only upset his son further, he turned and regarded Anakin with stern amber eyes. “Roz was kidnapped by someone with a grudge against me. She’ll be kept alive as long as she’s useful as bait.” He paused and let out a sigh. "You aren't coming." A hard look entered the boy’s eyes and he hoped they weren’t about to have their first real argument as family. He stood at his full height and squared his shoulders, preparing for the worst.

“I’m old enough to be your co-pilot and go on missions! And it’s Auntie Roz! I can’t stay here when she needs our help! If I don’t go she’ll die!” Jango grit his teeth but kept his composure. Stepping away from his gear he held out his arm and motioned Anakin closer. His son gave him a disgruntled look but followed the unspoken command.

When his son was within arms length he wrapped him up in a comforting hug. Anakin clung to his tunic and Jango could feel the tension surrounding the kid all the way to his bones. “An’ika, listen to me. This mission I’m going on is too dangerous for you.” His son took a breath to argue. “No!” He growled. “You will listen to me.” The boy deflated and Jango sighed. Letting his kid go he knelt so they were closer in height. From how he had been growing it wouldn’t be long before Jango wouldn’t need to kneel to have them at eye level any more. “You are the future of this clan. If I should fall in battle I need you,” he pressed a hand against his son’s chest, over his heart, “to take care of everyone in my stead.” A look of horror crossed Anakin’s face.

“You think you’re going to die?” He whispered.

Jango shook his head.

“No, An’ika. I don’t think I’m going to die. I’m going to win.” He couldn’t promise it, but he knew there was a good chance he could take on Montross and live. “But even if it isn’t this mission that kills me there are a lot of dangerous things in this galaxy and no one is immortal. Sooner or later everything dies, do you understand An’ika?” The boy’s chin fell to his chest and eyes to the floor but he slowly nodded. “No matter what I will always try to come back to you. But as a Mando’ad, as Mand’alor, I can’t let this challenge go unanswered. Do you understand?” There was a long silence before Anakin finally looked him in the eyes again. This time there was a determination in them that almost burned.

“I understand, buir. I’ll do my best for the clan and for our people.” Jango let out the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding and smiled as he ruffled the boy’s short cropped hair.

“I’m so proud of you, Anakin. Never forget that.” Before he could stand he found himself with an armful of clingy child and chuckled.

“I love you buir.” A fond smile crossed his face as he leaned down and pressed his forehead against his son’s.

“I love you too shu’shu’ika.” Anakin let out a little chuckle at the nickname, something that was beginning to catch on with the older clan members once they realized his kid was a disaster magnet. “Now I have to get packing.” Anakin let out an exaggerated huff but let him go. “Behave for your aunts and uncles. And listen to your teachers.” Anakin scuffed his boot against the floor.

“Yes buir.” With that settled Jango looked over what he’d already shoved in his kit bag and resumed packing.

“Go on, I know you have language class soon. We’ll speak on the comm later.” His son hesitated a moment but quickly obeyed the order.

“I’ll see you later buir.” Jango glanced over his shoulder but his son was already gone. He let out an amused huff. That had sounded less like a farewell and more like a promise.

[***]

Once everything was squared away he called up the heads of the clans and gave them the bare details. None of them were happy that he was leaving but they all understood why he was doing it

This was the man who had staged the ground for Jaster’s betrayal and murder. None of them would dare try to stop him from avenging his buir. A man they had all respected.

Looking around at those gathered to wish him a good hunt he immediately realized that his son was not there to see him off and frowned. “Where’s An’ika?”

Wad’e shook his head. “He missed out on training. I think he’s sulking.” There were a couple of amused chuckles from the gathered verde and Jang couldn’t help but to sigh. His son was getting to that age, where kids started to push their boundaries. It was a little early perhaps but Anakin was a little genius so it made sense he’d develop faster in some areas than others.

“Take care of my ad for me.” It must have been the tone of his voice but those gathered closely around him stood straighter. They understood the weight of his words.

“We will Alor, on my life. K’oyacyi.” Shiona stated with conviction.

Jango gave them all one last look before nodding firmly and climbing the ramp up to his ship.

It was time to end things with Montross once and for all.

[Wad’e]

Twelve hours. That’s how long Anakin had been able to convince them that he was still in the compound.

“I got a message saying he’d be with you because he ditched class earlier and wanted to apologize!” Runa snarled, followed by a string of curses in every language she knew. It was a surprisingly long list.

“He told me he wasn’t feeling well and would be in his room meditating.” Dotis mumbled, shoulders and ears both pulled down in a sign of despair and agitation.

“That little… he asked the mouse droids to take is tracker with them into the vents.” Brandis shook his head in frustration.

“All the messages were on timers, they were sent out two at a time to make us think he was with someone else when one of us might go looking for him.” Zermot sounded almost impressed as he looked over the code the kid had used to trick them.

“Well… what do we do now?”

Wad’e let out a long sigh. “I’m calling the Mand’alor. Either An’ika is hiding out somewhere nearby that we can’t find or…”

Everyone looked around at each other in horror.

“Or he’s on the Alor’s ship. Shab.” Shiona said with a groan.

That summed up their predicament quite succinctly in his opinion.

[Jango]

Setting down the gun he’d been cleaning to keep his hands busy he hit the comm. “Fett.”

“Mand’alor. I… regret to inform you that… your ad is missing.” The voice on the other end was Shiona and she sounded both tense and worried.

“What!” He snapped. “How the shab did you lose him?”

“He used a couple tricks we didn’t know he had. Timed messages, tracking chips in the mouse droids. He gave us the runaround.”

“He’s eight! How the shab did you let an eight year old lead you by the buy’ce?”

“Alor, I know you’re worried but try to remain calm. We’ve narrowed down where he could be hiding.” He grit his teeth and took a few deep breaths. It felt like his entire body was being squeezed by an invisible hand. All he could think was, ‘not again. I don’t want to lose anyone else.’

“Where?” He asked through his clenched teeth.

“He’s either hiding with one of the local ade in another compound, Zermot has already contacted a few of them to inquire about it, or… he’s with you.”

It took a moment for her words to sink in.

When it finally hit him he was up and out of his chair instantly.

He hit the intercom.

“Anakin Skywalker Fett! Get your shebs up here this instant!”

There was a whole thirty seconds of silence before the door to the cockpit opened and his son stood there nervously.

“Sit down and strap in.” He commanded evenly before turning back to the comm. “You can call off the search, I’ve got him here.”

There was a relieved sigh from the other end of the comm. “Thank the Ka’ra.” She said quietly before her voice turned more serious. “I’ll leave you to deal with your ad, Alor, and spread the word that he’s been found safe.”

“Vor’e, Shiona. When we return Anakin will give you all a formal apology for his actions. Dismissed.” Anakin shrunk in his seat, shoulders up around his ears and face turning red.

“Yes, Alor.” He closed the comm and slowly sat in his chair. He watched his son quietly for a moment, trying to find words.

“Do you want to explain to me why you decided to stow away like this?”

Anakin looked at his lap, fingers curled into tight fists.

“Your actions right now are very selfish, Anakin. You worried everyone who cares about you and caused a large disruption back home. On top of that you have dishonored your teachers and disrespected me by disobeying a direct order.”

“But-” His son looked up at him, mouth opening and closing a couple of times before he slumped forward in his seat.

“Did you do this for attention? Was it a dare?” He goaded slightly, knowing his son was sensitive to those sorts of things.

“What? No! The Force told me I had to!” His blue eyes widened and his mouth shut with a snap.

And there it was. The only reason his son would outright disobey him.

The stars cursed Force.

“…eta.” His son mumbled.

“What was that?”

“…ni ceta, buir. I’m sorry I worried everyone… I’m sorry I didn’t listen.” The boy looked like a kicked puppy and Jango leaned back in his chair with a tired sigh.

“Here’s what’s going to happen. You are going to stay on the ship, out of harms way, and keep the engines running. If it looks like I’ve lost I want you to take off and return to Manda’yaim.” His son opened his mouth to speak but was silenced with a look. “When we get back home you are going to apologize to everyone you worried. You’re then going to do all the work you missed and extra chores to make up for the disruption you caused. You will not be allowed to visit your friends, you will not be allowed out of the compound until I say otherwise. Suvari?”

Anakin frowned and crossed his arms, looking every inch the petulant child.

“Anakin Skywalker Fett, do you understand me?”

His son crumpled after five seconds.

“Lek, buir. Suvarir. I’ll apologize to everyone when we get home.”

“Good.” Turning back to the controls he calculated how long it would take to bring Anakin back to Mandalore and head back out again. As he’d suspected earlier, his son had timed everything perfectly. There wasn’t enough time before the deadline to take his son back home.

He turned back to his son who was squirming in his seat and huffed. “Tell me how you managed to pull this off. Every little detail.” If an eight year old, genius or no, could get through their security that easily then there was no telling who else could come in to wreak havoc on their systems.

Anakin smiled at him sheepishly and pulled out his datapad.

Well. At least Jango now had something to occupy his time and keep his mind off the upcoming confrontation.

Translations;

Dar’manda- No longer Mandalorian. An Exile.
Verd’goten- Coming of age ceremony for Mando’ade.
Buir- Parent/Father/Mother
Shu’shu’ika- Little disaster. A nickname for Anakin.
Alor- Chief/Boss/Leader, can also mean Sir.
K’oyaci- Come back safely/Stay alive.
Shab- Harsh curse word.
Buy’ce- Helmet
Shebs- Behind, arse.
Ka’ra- Stars. Ancient Mandalorian myth that says the spirits of past kings become stars and watch over Mandalore.
Ni ceta- A groveling apology, rarely used.
Vor’e- Thank you.
Suvari?- Understood?
Lek- Yes
Suvarir- I understand.

Chapter 11: Akaanir
Akaanir [ah-KAH-neer]- Fight

The closer they came to the planet the more tense Jango became. He knew that there was a high chance Roz was still alive, Montross would want to kill her in front of him. Just like with Jaster.

He didn’t want to think about it. Roz was the first person he had really come to trust after everything that had happened on Galidraan. She was like family. Had accepted him as he was, bad attitude and all. And when he had shown up with a traumatized six year old boy, a former slave no less, she had been there to help him get his osik together.

A hand landed on his arm and he turned to look down into bright blue eyes. “Buir, let’s meditate.” He wanted to protest but Anakin looked so serious and concerned that he couldn’t say no.

“Alright, ad.”

Sitting in the hold on their usual cushions he closed his eyes and took a deep breath, letting the air slowly fill his lungs and expand his chest. He held the breath for a moment and released it just as slowly. “In, two, three, four, five, six. Hold. Out, two, three, four, five, six.”

After a couple of minutes he opened his eyes, feeling a little more settled than before, and looked down at his son. The boy was watching him quietly, his body more still than Jango had ever seen before.

“What’s wrong, An’ika?”

Anakin chewed on his bottom lip for a long moment before he finally spoke. “I’m scared.” There was a faint tremble in his body, even as he tried to force himself to be still. “I’m scared Auntie Roz isn’t going to be okay, and that you’re going to leave me… just like mom did.” Suddenly he slumped forward, as if holding it in had been the only thing keeping him upright. “Am I a hut’uun?”

Jango twitched, his second hand coming up to rest on the boy’s hair. “No, An’ika, you are not a coward. Young and reckless, too stubborn by half, but no coward. Cowardice is not a lack of fear. Cowardice is turning away from doing the right thing, turning your back on your aliit and your duties. If anyone deserves to be called a hut’uun… it’s me.”

“What? No way!” The boy denied vehemently, eyes sharp. “You’re not a coward, buir, I know you’re not!”

“An’ika. I ran away from my duties for a long time. I turned my back on my people. It was cowardice.” He shook his head. “I’m going to make it right.” He promised. “But first we need to save your ba’vodu.”

Anakin’s eyes were slightly red from unshed tears but he nodded bravely. Jango pulled him closer for a quick hug before letting him go.

“Let’s make a plan, together. Montross has hurt our family enough. We’re not going to let him win this time.”

Wiping his face on his sleeve Jango’s son looked up at him, eyes shining fiercely and a feral grin on his face.

Montross wasn’t going to know what hit him.

[***]

The moment they got close to the planet Montross sent a set of coordinates for a landing site. Gritting his teeth Jango followed the coordinates to a secluded landing pad. Setting the ship down he motioned for Anakin to get ready.

Sticking to the shadows inside the ship Anakin trailed behind him, light on his feet after his years as a slave and later training with the Haat’ade. Neither of them trusted Montross not to hurt Roz and Anakin had made a very compelling argument for why he should be allowed to help.

Walking down the ramp he stopped once his feet hit dirt. “I’m here, Montross! Come out and face me like a Mando’ad!”

“Well, well, well, look who it is.” Came a familiar and much hated voice. “The little runt, all grown up.” Stepping out from behind a tree, one arm around Roz’s neck and a blaster aimed at her head with the other, was the man who had betrayed Jaster. “Why I remember-”

“I’m not here to reminisce.” He growled through clenched teeth. “Let her go, now!”

The amused look dropped from Montross’ face. “I don’t take orders from you, welp.” He pressed the blaster harder against Roz’s head. “You ruined my chances of becoming Mand’alor, had me exiled, and for what? Jaster was too sentimental, he would never have brought glory to the Mando’ade.”

“So you contacted me, what, twenty years later for revenge?” He scoffed as he walked closer, putting some distance between himself and the ship. “Using the same kind of cowardly tricks as before. But you’re right. I shouldn’t have exiled you.” He said evenly. “I should have executed you.”

Montross chuckled and slowly pulled the blaster away from Roz’s head, holding the muzzle toward the sky. “You should have. But you didn’t. A mistake that will cost-”

As the man was speaking his arm suddenly jerked away from Roz, as if a great force had ripped his arm away from the wounded Toydarian. But Roz didn’t fall to the ground when she was released, no, she was pulled toward Jango who quickly pulled her out of the air and turned his back on Montross. The blaster shots pinged against his beskar’gam as Montross yelled with fury behind him.

“Buir! I got her!” Anakin shouted as he dashed toward them. Once he was in range Jango quickly handed Roz off to his son.

“Get her to the medical bay and lock down the ship, now!” He commanded, pulling his blasters and turning to face the man who betrayed Jaster.

Montross watched them, seething with barely contained rage. But as Jango stepped forward he realized that the man wasn’t watching him- he was watching Anakin. “Just like Jaster, picking up strays.” The man spat. “Only you’ve made a huge mistake. That kid is worth a hell of a lot of credits. And here I thought I’d have to track him all the way to Manda’yaim after I killed you.”

Jango snarled, aiming his Westars at the threat to his family.

He heard the sound of a jetpack ignite and hurried to join Montross in the air. His shots missed by a hair as Jango collided with him mid-air. Disarming the larger man was tricky and as they both tried to knock the other out of the sky Jango’s blasters were knocked out of his hands.

“Buir!” He heard his son and his helmet whipped down to look. The boy was standing there on the ramp, one hand above his head. With a sudden and violent motion his boy clenched his fist and made a tearing motion with his arm. The sound of metal shrieking as it was crushed with incredible force reached his ears and Montross swore as he fell the few feet to the ground.

Dropping to the ground in front of Montross he aimed a feint at the man’s face. Montross’ arm rose to block and Jango grabbed it, throwing the larger man over his shoulder. When Montross hit the ground Jango aimed a kick toward his head, hoping to knock him out.

Montross rolled to the side and sprang to his feet, glaring death at Jango.

With a snarl Montross charged him, shoulder low to take Jango off balance. Catching the man in a chokehold he tried to hold him there but could feel his boots sliding across the ground as Montross used his momentum to push through the hold.

Jango’s foot slipped on loose rocks and they crashed to the ground, Jango’s arm still wrapped around Montross’ throat. Instinctively he pulled tight, flexing his muscles against his opponent’s neck; trying to finish the fight as quickly as possible.

With a grunt of effort Montross pushed his knees beneath him and shoved himself forward, rolling over Jango’s body and breaking his hold. Montross rolled to his feet and Jango cursed, twisting over and jumping up before Montross can even turn around to face him once more.

With a rage filled expression the man pulled out a nasty looking hunting knife, heaving for breath. Jango reached for his belt and slid the beskad out of its sheathe. Montross eyed the weapon warily, trying to judge how skilled Jango was with the weapon in his hand. And for good reason. Special weapons were the tools of fools or experts and both could be deadly.

They stood there for a moment, watching each other for any sign of movement, before Montross finally had enough. Charging forward he thrust his right hand toward Jango’s face, hoping to catch him off guard. Blocking with his wrist Jango rotated his arm over his opponent’s and clenched his arm down, capturing the man’s arm and making it impossible for him to stab Jango. As he was capturing Montross arm he raised his sword and thrust it toward the man’s neck.

The sword bit into the man’s neck and his eyes went wild as Jango’s grip strengthened on the handle. Montross threw a punch at his head and he dodged back, releasing the man’s arm. As Montross reached up to stem the bleeding of his neck he never saw the way Jango turned the blade in his hand and swung it with all his strength in a downward diagonal sweep.

Blood splattered across the ground and Jango’s armor as Montross head was sheared clean off his body, landing nearby with a wet thump.

Standing there, staring down at the body of someone who had aided in the murder of a man he called father, Jango felt nothing but relief.

Finally, his family would be safe.

Translations;

Buir- Parent
Aliit- Clan/Family
Hut’uun- Coward
Ba’vodu- Aunt/Uncle/Sibling of a parent.
Haat’ade/Haat Mando’ade- True Mandalorians, the Mandalorian faction that followed Jaster Mereel and later Jango Fett.
Mando’ade- Mandalorians, Mandalorian people.
Beskad- Mandalorian iron sword. Jango’s sword in particular is shaped like a falchion.

AN: Shoutout to my vod, Mereel, who helped me with the fight scenes.

Chapter 12: Yaimpar
Yaimpar [yay-EEM-par]- Return.

The trip home wasn’t as harrowing as the trip to meet with Montross, but only barely. Roz wavered between life and death twice and only Anakin’s steady faith kept Jango’s hands from shaking. He couldn’t lose another family member, he just… couldn’t.

By the time they arrived home everyone had heard of Montross’ defeat at Jango’s hands. There was a sense of triumph and victory at finally getting vengeance on the co-conspirator in Jaster’s death. But as he watched them wheeling Roz out on a stretcher, his son worrying his hands and rushing to follow, he couldn’t bring himself to fee celebratory.

“Anakin.” His son stopped dead in his tracks and turned to look up at him, shoulders dropping and eyes pinched with concern.

Jango strode forward and enveloped him in a quick hug. “Stay with ba’vodu Roz but keep out of the way. If a baar'ur tells you to leave you will obey.”

His son hugged him back fiercely and gave him a small smile of gratitude. His boy knew that he was still in trouble, and would have to apologize, but for now family was more important.

After his son left to follow the baar'ur, Wad’e on his heels, Shiona ushered Jango into his quarters and eyed him like he was a wayward child.

“You look like osik.” She said with a look of concern, though thankfully she knew to keep her hands to herself and didn’t offer to help him take off his armor. “Take a shower, have a nap, and comm me when you get up.” She ordered, eyes steely.

He rubbed at his brow in consternation. “Make sure An’ika eats something and rests. I know Wad’e will watch him, but he needs more than a bodyguard.” It was another reason the man had chosen to stay, though Jango didn’t know if Anakin realized it or not. It had certainly been the reason he’d finally sworn to Jango as Mand’alor after almost a year of him living in the compound.

“I’ll send Dotis to check in on our little Ven’alor. They’re concerned about his… visions.” Shiona wrinkled her nose slightly, a small sign of her frustration. None of them liked the idea that Anakin was dealing with these kinds of things alone, and how quick he was to follow whatever the Force told him.

Dotis was doing an excellent job teaching him to to not take his visions at face value, and to differentiate between things that would happen and things that might happen.

“If anything changes, let me know.” Either with Roz or Anakin, though he didn’t specify.

Shiona gave him a fond look and a soft smile of encouragement he remembered from the days when she had to ride herd on Jaster. “Of course, Alor. Now get some rest. I’ll have someone come by in six hours with something to eat if you aren’t already up by then.” She eyed him once more before finally leaving him alone in his quarters.

Mandalorian mother-henning at its finest.

He let out a small chuckle as he began to remove his armor, carefully laying the pieces out on the table for cleaning and repair. He felt a prickle of nerves with each piece he set down and scowled. Even after killing Montross he still felt as if there was something hanging over him… He shook himself and chalked it up to leftover battle nerves.

After a quick shower he fell into bed with relief. It had been a long, trying, week and he was more than ready for the sweet oblivion of sleep.

It felt like his head had barely hit the pillow and his eyes had closed when he was jolted awake by a knock at his door. Getting out of bed, knife in hand, he went to open the door and relaxed when he saw who was standing there. Kadla held out a tray to him and gave him a polite nod.

“Shiona said to make sure you ate something.” Letting out a small snort of amusement he took the tray, grinning when Kadla spied the knife.

“Any news on how An’ika is doing?”

Her helmet lifted slightly and he knew her attention had shifted from the knife to himself. “Shiona said you’d ask; he’s with Dotis meditating. Rozatta came out of surgery an hour ago and the baar'ur says she’s out of danger. Now it’ll just be a month or so of healing and going easy on herself and she should be right as rain.”

“You have my thanks.” He was about to dismiss her and close the door when he noticed her stiffen and shift on her feet.

“There’s one other thing.” She said hesitantly.

Jango stopped and gave her a curious look. “Is there a problem?” He really shabla hoped not. He wanted to get at least three more hours of blessed sleep after wolfing down whatever Shiona had thrown together for him.

“We’ve had word from some of the more secluded groups.” Subconsciously the woman reached up and brushed her hand against the stylized hawk-bat sigil on her armor. “They said they would only speak with the Mand’alor and ended the call with an old blessing.” Kadla lifted her chin proudly. “This is the Way.”

Oh… Oh. Well shab. That sounded like one of the old coverts Jaster had been in talks with before shell hit the fan. If they wanted to talk now they must have realized something big was going to happen soon… which meant they had eyes and ears in his compound.

Although the thought sent a shiver of wariness down his spine he knew that both Partra and Kadla were loyal. They had sworn themselves to his service in the old way, an oath that was nigh impossible to break.

“I’ll look into it as soon as I have a free moment.” He swore. “I respect those who follow the Way and would be happy to have them as allies.” He said honestly. The covert mando’ade might have some odd quirks but they were all highly skilled and followed the Resol’nare. Which was good enough for him.

“Of course, Alor. Rest well.” She thumped her fist against her chest and bowed her head for a moment before heading off.

Jango closed the door behind him and scrubbed at his hair for a moment before sitting down at his work table with his meal.

This wasn’t quite what he’d been expecting when he’d first returned, young son by his side. After all his years away it seemed like the people of Manda’yaim had finally begun to understand what backing Kryze or Vizsla over Jaster or himself really meant.

Ostracization, disunity, and the destruction of everything that made them Mando’ade in the first place. While Vizsla aimed for their bloody crusade, kidnapping and torturing children, Kryze was selling all of their precious beskar off planet or using it to make her pretty glass domes in the middle of the desert.

It was all a waste. A waste of lives, a waste of resources, and the two just kept feeding off of each other, pushing themselves further into their own ideology as the things that made them Mando’ade were blindly destroyed.

All Jaster had wanted was peace and understanding. Not the kind of peace Kryze toted, the kind where you just lay down and let those close to you die for no good reason. But the peace to learn and grown, to fight if you wanted to.

Jango looked at his armor and wondered, for the first time in years, if he should change his colors. He’d left it mostly bare, a sign of mourning and seeking redemption he never thought he’d receive. But now… now he had purpose again.

Pulling out his comm he called down to the quartermaster. “It’s Fett.” He said when they answered. “I’d like to pick up some paint.”

Translations;

Ba'vodu- Aunt, Uncle, sibling of a parent.
Baar'ur- Medic.
Osik- Darn, dammit.
Ven’alor- Future leader, heir.
Alor- Leader.
Resol'nare- The Six Actions, the core tenets of Mandalorian life.
Mando'ade- Mandalorians.
Manda'yaim- The planet Mandalore.

Pleased to read the newest entry, interesting.

Chapter 13: Am Part 1
Am [ahm]- Change.

[Jango]

The last few months had been calm and mostly quiet.

When Jango had shown up to a meeting in his new armor, helmet off so everyone could tell exactly who he was, there had been a hushed sort of awe that fell over his fellow mando’ade.

The base coat of his armor was a dark green, bordering between the shade of duty and the shade of protection. On his bracers and around his visor was a bright red, in honor of Jaster and his birth parents. His right shoulder was emblazoned with the symbol of the Haat’ade in stark white, to commemorate its rebirth and the new start he wanted to bring to the mando’ade. Beneath it all his kute was a blue so dark one could almost think it was black, for justice and reliability both.

Standing before the clan heads he had looked each of them in the eyes and dared them to comment on his new paint. But all he received were looks of relief, joy, determination, and excitement.

“Ready to get down to business?” He asked, voice firm with new conviction.

“We were born ready, Alor.” Kadaab Egress said with a wide grin.

“Then let’s get started.” Sitting at the head of the table he set down his datapad for notes and placed his helmet to his left. “What’s the first order of business?”

The meeting didn’t last long, just rehashing some old ideas and confirming a couple of alliances, but he couldn’t help feel as if they’d gotten quite a lot finished in that short time.

Since he’d walked into that first meeting a few months ago word had quickly spread about his new look. Now whenever he wandered the halls between meetings and appointments verde would stop and give him a polite incline of the head, if not an outright salute. It also seemed to be a new habit for the stationed guards to give him a proper salute… every single time he walked past them.

Something that Anakin seemed to think was hilarious if his giggles whenever Jango let out an exasperated huff were any indication.

Even with his newfound conviction however, things didn’t always go smoothly. There were a couple of clans that had pointedly refused to work together, even if they wanted to become his allies. Eventually he’d thrown his hands up and told them that if they couldn’t learn to work together then their offers of alliance would be put on hold until they got their osik together.

He wasn’t going to babysit full grown adults who should already know how to act professionally with one another.

Of course one of those bastards had asked him if he could ever work with the Vizsla clan and it was a wonder he hadn’t shot them somewhere uncomfortable.

“When it comes to the kids and anyone who hasn’t committed a shabla atrocity then yes; I could suck it up and deal with them fairly.” He had eventually ground out. “I don’t have to like it but for the sake of all mando’ade I would do it.”

The look the head of Clan Gauri had given him was contemplative. “It looks like I have much to think about. By your leave, Alor?”

He’d dismissed them from the hall, glad that the meeting had stopped before he developed a headache.

At least the Covert had been easy to speak with. Their core values and his own were perfectly in line with one another.

“I have heard that you accept those sworn to the Creed and do not require them to remove their helmets, even for security.” Their alor had stated. “I would like to express my gratitude for your hospitality.”

Jango waved it off. “There are many reasons a warrior might not want to take off their helmet. As long as we can confirm they are who they say they are when they come to the security checkpoint I’m satisfied. Your people have submitted to the dna checks every time they’ve stepped foot on my grounds and have caused no trouble.”

“And we will continue to cooperate with you, Mand’alor Fett. For your way lies the path of the true mando’ad. So long as our wish to hold to the Creed is respected we will stand with you.”

“Your Creed will be respected under my rule, that I can swear to you.”

“Then we will send a representative to properly swear to an alliance. You know that we do not use our names outside of our home, yes?” The woman asked with a tilt of her copper helmet.

Jango nodded. “You use titles or code names instead.”

“That is correct. Kadla of the Hawk-bat Clan is my sibling’s child and she has spoken well of your treatment of her.” There was warmth in her voice as she spoke of her niece.

Well… that explained the information leak. “But she won’t be your representative?”

“She is too young for such responsibility yet. Perhaps in a few years.” She chuckled. “No, we will send Adatoya to you. You will know him by his red and blue patterned armor and the krayt dragon sigil he bears.”

Jango let out a low whistle of appreciation. He knew how those bound by the Creed gained their sigils. You weren’t just handed one, you had to earn it. Sometimes they were symbolic, but other times it meant they’d gone toe to toe with a creature and killed it. “I’d be honored to have such a warrior act as your representative.”

“Then I will alert him and he will be on his way in short order.” She nodded to someone off to her left. “It is an honor to be working with you, Mand’alor Fett.” She tapped her fist against her chest plate as a sign of respect and bowed her head toward him.

“And with you, Alor Beslaar.” He tapped his fist against his chest in return. “I wish your people well, I hope we speak again.”

“We will speak again, Mand’alor. For this is the Way.” With that the call ended and Jango could finally relax.

“Forward any calls to Shiona.” He ordered.

“Taking a break, Alor?” Someone called.

“I’ve got time set aside for An’ika, today is a special day.” He said with a sharp grin.

Everyone knew that Jango’s time with his son was not to be disturbed, and woe betide anyone who did. Neither Fett were very forgiving when it came to their bonding time, unless it was an actual emergency of course.

“Oh! Right, that’s today! We’ll make sure you aren’t disturbed, Alor.” Di’ajab said firmly, an amused smile twisting the corners of her lips upward even as she tried to remain stoic.

“As you were, verde.” He said with a chuckle, receiving either serious or half serious salutes in reply.

Walking through the compound with purpose he looked at his bracer and switched it to tracking mode. One of the things his son had promised him after the mission to confront Montross was that he would wear the tracker and never tamper with it again.

‘It doesn’t stop you from going anywhere, An’ika, it’s not like what those hut’uun slavers use. It just lets me and your ba’vodu’e know where you are in case of an emergency.’ The tracker itself wasn’t all that big. It fit inside the back of a small beskar disc engraved with the Mereel Clan’s symbol. All of the kids had one like it or something similar, so his son wasn’t alone.

After reminding the boy of his kidnapping a few years prior Anakin had finally understood why it was so important and agreed to keep the damn thing on him at all times.

Finding his son in one of the repair bays, what a surprise, he turned off the tracking program and let out a shrill whistle.

A moment later his kid was peeking over the top of an engine. “Buir!” There was a streak of grease across his forehead and his short hair was a bit of a mess but the smile that crossed his face was bright.

Jango warmed at the sight. When he’d first taken Anakin away from the dusty ball of misery and pain that was Tatooine he’d been a terrible sight. Too thin, cracked lips, rough skin, obviously malnourished and dehydrated. Jango hadn’t blamed the boy’s mother, she’d been a slave just as he had, but he’d certainly blamed the bastard who had been forcing a six year old to work on dangerous broken machines.

Even if his son was a genius and Ka’runi to boot.

“Hey An’ika. What are you working on today?” Anakin jumped down from the lift and Jango had to hold himself back from chiding him. It was so high off the ground but Dotis had assured him Anakin was learning how to trust in the Ka’ra to slow his falls and that he wouldn’t be hurt. It was something he had to get over if his kid was going to be swinging around the dha’kad’au like he did in his dreams, which only seemed to grow clearer as he got older.

“Just one of the starfighters, there was something wrong with the power couplings so I told Fir’ithtoli that I would take a look so he could work on the bigger ships.” The Ryl rolled off his son’s tongue, the abrupt change almost jarring if you didn’t already know the boy was a polyglot.

“Think you can give it a break for a few? I was hoping we could go out of the compound this time around. There was this new place near Keldabe I wanted to take you to… but if you’re too busy I understand.” It took most of his willpower to keep a straight face as his son’s eyes went wide and round with excitement.

“What? No! I can take a break! Kih’parjai! Just one sec!” With that his son scurried away to find the head mechanic, leaving Jango behind.

By the time Anakin had returned with the head mechanic in tow he couldn’t help it any longer and burst into laughter. His son gave him a disgruntled look but Fir’itholi shared his amusement, grinning down at the little blonde.

“I take it you’re here to fetch the Ven’alor.” He said, his lekku curling in a teasing manner.

“Didn’t let you get a word in edgewise, huh?” Jango asked with a wide grin.

“Barely understood a word of it, Alor.” The man said with a laugh. “The starfighter can wait, it’s one of the reserves. It’ll keep for when you get back.” His purple eyes suddenly turned mischievous. “If you aren’t too distracted.”

Anakin looked up at the man, puzzled.

“Alright, An’ika, it’s time to go. We’ll be back before you know it ad’ika.” He motioned to the spot next to him and was glad when his kid didn’t try to pry any information out of Fir’itholi. The man had already said too much.

Did he not realize how hard it was to keep a surprise from a kid who could see the future and feel others emotions?

“So, where are we going buir?” His kid asked, looking up at him with the tooka eyes.

“It’s a surprise.” He said with a small smirk.

The boy rolled his eyes. “Oh, come on!”

“Patience, An’ika. It’ll pay off in the end. I promise.”

His son watched him quietly for a moment before he finally nodded in understanding.

“So, about the starfighter-”

Chapter 13: Am Part 2

[Anakin]

The whole trip to wherever it was his buir was taking him, Anakin tried to keep his mind on other things. Like how his buir wouldn’t let him learn how to pilot one of the starfighters until he was at least fourteen. Which was totally lame… but also fair. He knew he had to set a good example for the other ad’ike of the House.

But it would be so much cooler if he could pilot the starfighter now!

The speeder finally slowed and his buir parked it at the end of what looked like a long road, leading to a large homestead with outbuildings. “We have to walk from here. No speeders allowed past that gate.”

“Why?” He asked.

“It’s the rules.” His buir said, sounding mischievous. Anakin couldn’t see his eyes but he was pretty sure they were doing that thing where the crinkled at the sides, like whenever his buir laughed or teased him.

They walked along the road and stopped at the large gate nearby. Buir hit a comm button and after a few minutes the gate swung open. A shrill whistle came from the speaker and Anakin ducked his head, covering his ears in surprise as he glared at the gate.

“Sorry An’ika, I forgot to warn you. It’s just part of the alert system.” His buir said, gripping his shoulder and giving it a reassuring squeeze.

“Well I know that now.” He groused.

“Come on, we’re almost there.”

When they were almost to the large house a fellow mando’ad in full beskar’gam rounded the corner and waved them over. His buir turned and headed straight for the other mando’ad.

There was a sense of anticipation in the air now.

“Alor.” They said, giving his buir a quick salute. Which made him sigh again under his breath in exasperation.

Anakin had to duck his head to hide his snicker. He loved that everyone was taking his buir so seriously now! He deserved it after all the hard work he’d put in to try and stabilize Manda’yaim.

“Akenar, good to see you again.” Anakin watched as his buir began signing, far too quickly for him to catch what was being said. He wasn’t old enough yet to learn all the hand signs, only the ones used during an emergency, but he was starting to piece it together and his buir knew it.

“Of course.” The mando’ad turned to look down at him, helm tilted slightly in what was clearly amusement. “Welcome to my farm, Anakin. I hope you’ll find what you’re looking for.”

Anakin blinked up at him in confusion. “Um, thank you?”

His buir, the traitor, let out a snort. “Come on, let’s go see what Akenar has for us.”

Grumbling under his breath he let his buir and the mando’ad lead him to one of the outer buildings. As they got closer a strong smell began to invade his nose and he wrinkled it in distaste. Thankfully it wasn’t too bad, not as bad as some of the sentient markets he remembered from Tatooine.

But it was still pretty bad.

Akenar stopped and motioned him closer to the door. The blonde looked up at his buir who nodded encouragingly. So, Anakin went.

Akenar opened the door and let him enter.

Anakin froze the moment he stepped inside.

“Striile!” He exclaimed in shock before turning around to stare at his buir.

“Surprise, An’ika! Your birthday is in a week but I figured we could do this now.” He motioned to the pack of young strills that were roughhousing playfully with one another. “A Striile is a big responsibility though. You have to train with them every day and make sure to discipline them properly. They’re smart creatures so they’ll test you a lot. But if you can find one who likes you, they’ll be your companion for life. Striile live a long time, upwards of three hundred years if they’re treated well.” Jango watched him for a moment. “If you don’t think you’re ready for this responsibility we can just hang around the farm and play with them for a while, and I can think of something else to get you for your birthday.” He said firmly.

He could sense the seriousness of the situation but there was also a rightness to it that rang out in the force. His buir thought he was ready for the responsibility and… Anakin thought he was too.

It also didn’t slip his notice that a strill was the perfect guard creature should someone try to kidnap or hurt him again.

“I’m ready.” He said honestly. “And I’ll take good care to train them properly. They’ll be aliit, so I’ll treat them like it.”

He could practically feel his buir’s pride in him, and Akenar’s pleased surprise. He turned to the other mando’ad and smiled.

“How do I approach them safely?”

Akenar let out a sharp whistle through the vocoder on their helmet and all the strills stopped what they were doing and turned their attention to them. The breeder, at least that’s what Anakin assumed he was, then let out a series of clicks.

The strills all perked up and hurried over to them, sitting on the ground once they were a few feet away.

“They’re still young right now but they’ll be about a *meter in length once fully grown. They’re already house trained and will respond to a list of verbal commands, although you can always train them to respond to other commands or words later.” Akenar explained as he pulled out a few pieces of dried meat. “They’re carnivorous and excellent hunting animals. But they’ve got a soft spot for adiike, and especially ik’aade.” They held out the pieces of meat for him and Anakin took them tentatively.

“Don’t worry about them coming at you for the treats, An’ika. They’ll behave.” Something in his buir’s voice said ‘or else’ and he had to stop himself from rolling his eyes. His buir was always so protective.

“Come on, they don’t have names yet but they’ll respond to you if you walk up to them.” Akenar put their hand lightly against his back and motioned to the first strill.

“This one is the oldest and is often in charge of the pack. Likes having their back patted and can be quite a handful.” The strill looked up and made a snuffling gowling sound. “Yeah, I’m talking about you, you lovable idiot.” Akenar said with a touch of mirth to their voice. “You can reach out to pet them if you like.”

Anakin nodded and reached out to let the strill sniff him before he patted them on the back and ruffled their ears. They sniffed at him and let out low grumbles, their tail twitching on the ground behind them like a whip.

“Feel free to talk to them, they’re very intelligent and can usually understand your intent.”

“Hi there, I’m Anakin.” He felt a little silly doing it but the strills all seemed to perk up at his voice. “I’m going to bring one of you home with me, I hope.”

They moved down the line of strills so he could get a bit of a feel for each of them. They ranged from a tan gray, to sandy colored, to a kind of gold. As he stopped in front of the next strill, one that was tan colored, he felt a tug from the force. He looked into bright golden eyes and there was something behind them that just seemed to be… more.

He wondered if animals could be force sensitive too.

Anakin held out his hand for the strill and waited patiently while they sniffed at him. After a moment they sneezed, let out a loud grumble, and butted their head into his hand. Anakin let out a giggle at the insistence that he pet them.

“Huh. You must be pretty special, adiik. This one is the runt of the litter and can be pretty standoffish. But they seem to like you quite a bit.” The breeder sounded quite impressed.

“I think the feeling is mutual.” Jango said behind them with a chuckle.

Anakin snickered as he fed the strill one of the treats. “I like them.” He said decisively. “Do I get to name them?” He looked up at the breeder.

“Of course, adiik.” Akenar said with what sounded like a fond smile.

Anakin turned back to the strill and closed his eyes, carefully reaching out to the force. When he opened his eyes again he had the perfect name.

“Pitata.”

“Pitata?” His buir asked, one brow raised.

“From Rain.” He explained. “Rain doesn’t sound right. So Pitata. Pitta for short.”

His buir and Akenar shared a look but the breeder just shrugged.

“Sounds good to me, An’ika. Come on, lets have Akenar here show you all the proper commands outside. There’s a few toys around here too so you two can play.”

Anakin couldn’t help grinning in excitement and hugged Pitta around the neck. “Welcome to Aliit Fett.” He whispered, before he pulled back with a squeak at the rough tongue slobbering along his cheek.

The sound of his buir’s laughter was music to his ears as the three of them, and one strill, headed outside into the sunshine.


Translations;

Kadla- Sword user.
Partra- Navigator.
Adatoya- Hunter.
Beslaar- Steelsinger. An ancient title given to Armorers.
Alor- Chief, leader.
Verde- Warriors, soldiers
Gotab’ika- Little engineer.
Ven’alor- Future leader.
Kih’parjai- Little victory, or ‘no worries/don’t worry about it.’
Manda’yaim- The planet Mandalore.
Striil- Strill in Galactic Basic. They are an intelligent and hermaphroditic hunting mammal native to Mandalore. They are very protective of children and anyone expecting a child.
Adiike- Children aged 3-13.
Ik’aade- Babies and infants under 3.
Pitata- Rainy. From Pitat, meaning Rain.

Notes;
*1 meter is about 3’3”

Chapter 14: Verde
Verde [VAIR-day] soldiers/warriors.

[Anakin]

As the first rays of the morning sun pierced through the curtains of the fortress they fell upon the soundly sleeping face of a young blonde. The boy let out a small groan and rolled over, snuggling into the warm handmade blankets that smelled of spice and home. With his eyes closed tight the child tried to fall back asleep, but it was not to be.

A low chuffing sound was the only warning he got before the bed dipped with the sudden addition of weight. There was a snuffling noise before something cold and wet touched the back of his neck as a warm body flopped down on top of him.

“Ack!” Turning he glowered blearily at his new best friend, who just let out a low grumble and nudged him again, this time pushing him slightly. “Okay, okay! Stars, Pitta, I’m awake!” Laughing he reached up to pet their tan colored head and received a gentle nuzzle in return. The striil let out a pleased rumble and their tail began to wag lazily in the air, making their happiness very obvious.

Anakin smiled as he got out of bed, stretching and letting out a yawn. Opening his trunk he quickly pulled out and changed into his flightsuit, throwing his sleep clothes in the trunk for later. It was funny now, when his buir had given him his first flightsuit he hadn’t really known how he felt about it. But now it was one of the most comfortable pieces of clothing he owned, and it fit perfectly under his armor.

Grabbing his belt he slipped it on and checked that everything was where he wanted it before turning to regard his new friend. Squaring his shoulders, like Akenar had taught him, he pointed to the ground at his feet. “Pitata, come.” He made sure his voice was calm but firm.

With a small whuff the striil bounded off the bed and trotted over to stand in front of him, ears perked and body carefully still; waiting.

“Good!” He praised, pulling out the small bag of treats he now kept on his belt specifically for training. He held out his hand and the striil snuffled at him before gently taking the treat and wolfing it down. Reaching for another treat he made sure his friend could see it as he help his other hand out, parallel to the floor. “Pitata, sit.” He commanded firmly.

The striil watched him for a moment, as if trying to judge what they could get away with, before following his command.

Anakin rolled his eyes. Both Akenar and his buir told him that Pitata would try to test what they could get away with, and that he’d have to keep them engaged if he wanted them to behave.

“Alright, let’s go.” He said as he patted his right thigh, the sign for Pitata to heel.

Once he grabbed his sword and blaster, making sure they were both secure, he finally left his room. Walking down the long halls of he fortress he sent a quick message to his buir, letting the man know he was awake.

His buir sent him back a simple ‘kay, see you soon,’ that made him snicker. His buir was not a morning person. Sure he could get up in the morning, if he had to, but he was miserable without at least three cups of spiced caf. Anakin still couldn’t stand the stuff, but he liked shig and warm spiced blue milk.

Heading out to the back gate he greeted the guards. One of the guards came outside to stand with him as Pitta went about their morning business. They talked about how his lessons were going and Pitta’s training before the striil trotted back to him with their tongue hanging out of their mouth.

Back inside Anakin continued his usual morning routine and headed toward the large breakfast hall, greeting whoever he saw along the way. Whenever they returned the greeting they always addressed him as ‘kih’alor,’ meaning little leader.’ A reference to his buir being Mand’alor. Anakin flushed with embarrassment and pleasure at being compared to his buir that way. He didn’t know if he’d make a very good leader yet but everyone else seemed to think he was doing a good job learning so far, so he never told them to stop.

Coming into the mess hall he had to stop and force Pitta to sit just inside the door. They were far too excited to see so many people but Akenar said they were still a puppy and would mellow out a bit more when they got older.

“No, Pitata. Stay.” He reached along the thin bond he held with his striil and sent along a feeling of calm, just like Dotis was teaching him in meditation.

A small whine came from the striil but after a moment he could feel them settle into something more calm and focused. “Good!” He praised, giving them another treat.

Heading to the line he greeted the warriors on kitchen duty and filled his tray with a bowl of chopped fresh fruit, a plate of eggs, and a small stack of flatcakes drenched in syrup. Once he was done grabbing his own meal he went over to the kitchen door and waited for one of the warriors to bring him out Pitta’s first meal as well. It was a bowl of chopped meat, including organs, and some leftovers that most beings wouldn’t eat. But Pitta was a carnivore, so even if it made Anakin’s nose crinkle with disgust he knew it was important for his friend’s wellbeing.

With both his tray and the bowl of meat he made his way over to one of the large tables and sat down, whistling for the striil to join him. “Here you go Pitta.” He said when his friend came trotting over, making quiet chuffing noises. He chuckled and pat the tanned fur of his friend before turning to his own meal.

It wasn’t long until his buir practically fell onto the bench beside him, giving him a one armed hug and nursing a mug of spiced caf. “G’morn An’ika.” He muttered.

“Morning buir!” He said cheerfully, grinning when his buir glared blearily at him.

They sat in companionable silence as Anakin ate his breakfast and his buir drank his first cup of spiced caf. Pitata only looked up from their meal once, looking at Jango and judging him to be someone ‘safe’ around his tiny master.

Once his buir had left and come back with more caf the man seemed more awake. “So what’s your schedule looking like today, An’ika?”

He finished the bite he’d just shoved into his mouth, knowing it was rude to talk with his mouth full. “I’ve got language with Runa first, then I’m helping Brandis with some stuff. After that Adat’juri Tay’haai said he was going to show me some more advanced moves. When beskad lessons are done I have a long break before practice and meditation with Dotis. Zemot told me yesterday that he was going to be too busy today to teach me more slicing techniques.” As he spoke he ticked each teacher off one by one. “What about you, buir? Do you have lots of meetings today?” He asked curiously.

“Got some special guests coming today, and a few personal meetings I’ve been putting off for a while. It’s going to be an interesting sixteen hours, that’s for sure.” Reaching over his buir ruffled his hair, making Anakin let out an indignant squawk. “Try not to get into any trouble today, Shu’shu’ika.”

Anakin rolled his eyes. “It’s not like I try to get into trouble, you know.” He pouted, slapping the man’s hand away playfully when he’d had enough of his hair being messed with.

His buir chuckled. “You never do, yet it always seems to find you.” Leaning back slightly he let out a low whistle between his teeth that had Pitta perking up and looking over at him with interest. “You look after him today, Pit’ika. Don’t leave his side.”

Pitta let out a low snuffling sound, almost like a sneeze, before trotting over and nudging Jango’s hip, almost like they had understood and were agreeing with him.

“Don’t worry, buir. I have a good feeling about today!” He said with a grin as he dug into his pancakes.

[Jango]

Sitting in the meeting hall he looked over another agreement sent to him by a local ranch. Unlike some of the smaller farms that were run by single families, this ranch was run by a fairly large, wealthy, and well known clan. Initially he’d thought it was bait, a way to lure him out. But all the scouting missions and background checks came back clean. In fact it looked as if the clan had been quietly working behind the scenes with Jaster at the height of the Haat’ade. Now that Jango had come back and taken his place as Mand’alor they wanted to work on supplying the Haat’ade once more. If it were true and this wasn’t an elaborate trap then it would be a boon going forward.

His comm beeped and he checked the time before answering. “Fett here.”

“Alor, the representative from the Covert has arrived. They’ve already been through security and are eager to speak with you.”

“Send them in, I’ll see them now.” He ordered as he picked up the reports in front of him and set them off to the side.

Rather than remain seated he got up from the table and waited a short distance from the door, just off to the left. It didn’t take long for one of his people to enter, leading a warrior he’d never met before inside.

The warrior was as the Covert’s alor had described, if a lot taller than he first expected. They stood at about two meters, or six feet and five inches, tall and moved like a stalking predator. If he had to guess, judging by the modifications to their helmet, they were either a Zabrak or a Devaronian. But that was only an educated guess based on years of experience. Not that it really mattered much.

Their armor was midnight blue and a deep crimson so dark it would easily become black in shadows. On their left pauldron was a stylized krayt skull signet painted in the dark brown of valor.

Stopping the warrior tapped their fist against their chest plate. “Mand’alor Fett. I am Adatoya, my Alor has given me the task of negotiating with you for an alliance.”

Jango couldn’t help but to smile. The Covert mando’ade were very straight forward and honest, which was a good trait in an ally. “It’s good to have you here, Adatoya. I’m sure Kadla will be happy to see you as well.” He motioned towards the table and took his seat before his guest. It was a sign of trust, to put oneself in a tactically weaker position in front of a potential threat. Make no mistake, he was almost certain that these negotiations would go well, but one never knew what could happen in these circumstances.

“First, I want to reassure you that you and any of your people who visit will have their beliefs respected. You are not required or obligated to remove your helmets and private quarters will be provided for you. If anyone tries to start trouble over it I will be the first person to defend your right, just as I would defend anyone else’s.” He stared into Adatoya’s visor, judging where their eyes would be from his own experience in armor.

“The Alor said as much, but your reassurance is appreciated, Mand’alor.” They inclined their head politely in thanks.

Jango nodded in response before moving on. “Alright then. I’ll give you the same information I give to all potential allies, then we’ll see where we sand and can move on from there. After that if you have any questions or suggestions I’ll hear you out. Does that sound good to you?”

Adatoya sat up even straighter. “Yes, that sounds fine.”

“Okay then.” Picking up his datapad he set it in front of him, in case he needed his notes. He cleared his throat and looked up at the taller warrior once again. “The Supercommando Codex, created by Mand’alor Jaster Mereel, is a code of conduct based around the concept of the honorable warrior.”

As he began to detail the important points Jaster had always waxed poetic about he could tell that he had the rapt attention of the warrior across from him. When he finished his long spiel he waited for their reaction with bated breath. It was at this point that he would know whether or not an alliance would even be possible.

“I think, Mand’alor Fett, that our alliance is going to be very beneficial, for both of our peoples.” Adatoya leaned forward and laced their fingers together on the table in front of them. “Tell me more about Mand’alor Mereel’s Codex, it sounds interesting.”

Jango kept his expression as neutral as possible. “Where do you want me to start?”

“What were Mand’alor Mereel’s views on foundlings?” They asked after a moment.

Jango’s lips twitched upward in amusement. “Jaster loved ade, it didn’t matter where they came from. I know that more than anyone.”

“How so?”

“I was a foundling myself, and Jaster was my buir.” He said with a sad smile.

“I see. You share his views on foundlings?”

Jango snorted. “I have a foundling myself, his name is Anakin. If you stick around here a few days you’re sure to see him around with his striil. He’s a curious adiik so he’ll probably ask you a lot of questions. I try to indulge his curiosity as much as I can but if he gets too excitable you can ask him to leave you be. He knows all about boundaries and will respect yours.”

“I think I’ll have to take you up on that offer. Seeing how your people live will go a long way to convince the others.”

Jango leaned back in his seat. “You’re welcome to stay as long as you like. I’m sure Kadla would love to speak with you.”

The warrior across from him jerked slightly. “My vod’ika is here?”

Jango blinked. That wasn’t the reaction he’d expected. “Yes, she’s been here for a while. Do you want me to call her?”

“Yes.” Even through the helmet speaker he could tell that the warrior was pretty ticked off.

Looked like Kadla and Alor Beslaar had a lot of explaining to do.

[Anakin]

Laughing he ran toward the corner of the next building, letting the other kids chase him. As a tall figure in black beskar’gam appeared in front of him he had to put on the breaks or risk a collision. Flailing his arms he skidded to a stop just before the stranger. Cheeks flushed in embarrassment he took a couple large steps back, wary of someone he had never met before. “Uh, sorry. Didn’t mean to almost run into you.” He said with a nervous chuckle.

The warrior stood there looking down at him silently for a long moment, long enough to make Anakin sweat. Suddenly Pitata was in front of him, using their body to make a barrier between the two of them, teeth bared slightly. They let out a low grumble, a warning, and the black armored warrior snorted.

“I’m not going to hurt the ad.” They said calmly, slowly holding out their hand to Pitata so the striil could get a good sense of their scent. Once Pitata seemed satisfied the warrior pet their head and looked at Anakin. “You’re a bit young for a striil. Not many adiike are ready for that kind of responsibility.”

There seemed to be an unasked question in the warrior’s tone but Anakin wasn’t quite sure what they were getting at. “Pitata was a gift from my buir, for protection. I’m working on training with them.” He said honestly.

The warrior was silent again for a moment before they drew back their hand from Pitata’s head. “And who might your buir be?”

Anakin squared his shoulders and lifted his chin stubbornly. “Jango Fett.”

The warrior didn’t react to the name, at least not outwardly. But after a moment of silence they let out a small huff that could have been a laugh, maybe. “I can’t say that I’m surprised. Like parent like child.”

Before Anakin could ask what that meant an angry voice called out. “Vau! Control your beast!” From around the corner a second stranger in sandy-gold beskar’gam appeared with another striil.

“Mird is fine. Aren’t you, Mird’ika?” A note of warmth entered their glass-like presence and Anakin couldn’t help smiling. He could feel how the other striil practically oozed affection and devotion to the black clad warrior.

The sandy-gold warrior let out a scoff before turning toward Anakin. “Hello ade,” he said kindly, looking past Anakin to the other kids who were now crowded behind him.

“Hi!” Talsia said with a wide grin. “I’ve never seen you before, who are you?”

The sandy-gold warrior laughed and it was a kind sound. “My name is Kal, and this bast- grump, is Vau.” They motioned to their… companion?

“Are you here to talk to my buir?” He asked the two, looking from one to the other.

Kal cocked his head to the side slightly. “Perhaps, depends on who your buir is.”

“The ad is Fett’s.” The one named Vau said as they gave their striil some scratches and hardy pats. “Although I didn’t get your name.”

“Anakin. Anakin Skywalker Fett, Clan Fett, House Mereel.” He said proudly, standing straighter and looking both warriors in the visor.

“No kidding?” Kal sounded surprised, but pleasantly so. “I heard rumors but I didn’t know what to believe after… everything. Pleasure to meet you, Anakin. I’m Kal Skirata, Clan Skirata, House Mereel.” The warrior held out his arm and Anakin clasped it in greeting, grinning.

“Nice to meet you too!” He looked at the black clad warrior and held out his arm. They looked at him for a quiet moment before clasping forearms with him firmly.

“Walon Vau, House Mereel. With me is Lord Mirdalan.” Anakin glanced down at the striil and smiled.

“Is it safe for me to pet them?” He hoped it was, but he would understand if Vau didn’t allow it. Striile weren’t pets, they were hunting animals and could be dangerous.

“Mird would never harm an adiik. Unfortunately we are expected in the meeting room quite soon.”

Anakin smiled, nodding in understanding. “If buir is waiting for you then you should probably go. Maybe we’ll meet again.”

Kal put a hand on their hip. “I’m sure you will, if your buir has anything to say about it. Play safely adiike.” They chuckled.

Anakin watched the two warriors and a striil leave. In the force he felt something stirring, it felt like the wind across the dunes changing directions.

It felt like a storm was coming.

Author's Note;
There's an error in the last chapter but I'm unable to fix it.
The first instance of Jango mentioning Kadla was supposed to be deleted but I missed it in editing.

Of all your alternate time line stories I find this one the most fascinating, really get into the Mando culture and some very intriguing personal and political developments. Looking forward to seeing where it leads.

Chapter 15: Aay'han
Aay'han [AY-ye-haan]- A bittersweet perfect moment of mourning and joy.

[Jango]

Waiting in the hall with the agitated Covert verd standing nearby, arms crossed over their broad chest, Jango had to wonder just what game the Beslaar Chief was playing at. At the very least it was obvious Adatoya hadn’t been informed their sibling was living in the Mereel compound. Had been living there for the better part of nine months, in fact.

Kadla had come on the heals of Partra, who had vouched for her and her loyalty. Since then she had been leaving the compound on her own business, yet always returning in the end. Five months ago, after admitting she had been waiting just to see how he ran things, she had sworn herself to him as Mand’alor. Along with countless others who had either chosen to renew their vow or make the vow for the first time.

Since then she’d been working with the scouts and sticking close to Partra, pestering the poor bastard incessantly. If Jango had a mind to dig into other people’s business he’d think there was something brewing between the two of them. But it really wasn’t his place to pry. So unless someone asked him to witness their Riduurok or a Gai bal Manda, he was going to leave it well alone.

Hearing heavy footfalls down the hall he turned and nodded in greeting as Kadla turned the corner. Walking behind her, off to her left, Partra inclined their helmet politely in acknowledgment.

At the end of the hall Partra stopped and leaned against the wall, looking away from them as if to keep watch. Stopping a few feet away, helmet tilted at a very curious angle, Kadla thumped her chest plate with her fist. “Alor, you called for me?”

“Actually there’s someone here who wanted to see you.” How she hadn’t noticed the giant bulk of her ori’vod next to him- turning to motion towards the other verd Jango froze in place. They were gone. Somehow they had managed to vanish in the short span of Jango looking away and Kadla turning the corner.

Before he could say anything else a large looming form peeled itself away from the scant shadows of the hall. How in the fierfeck-

Grabbing Kadla by the back of her armor the verd hauled her clean off the ground with no effort, lifting her as if she were a misbehaving tooka kit and not a fully armored mando’ad. In an instant Kadla released the hidden blade in her bracer but stopped when she was met with a low growl.

“What is the meaning of this, vod’ika? You disappear for months and now I find you here amongst the Mand’alor’s people without so much as a comm home to let us know you’re still alive?”

Kadla drooped in the verd’s hold, clearly not sensing any threat now that she knew it was her sibling and not an attacker. “H-hey ori’vod! I meant to send a comm, I swear. But then I was busy running missions for the Alor. So, uh…” She turned towards Jango, looking for help.

Pft. As if Jango would get between siblings having a spat. As long as it didn’t erupt in violence or harmed anyone else he would let the two of them sort out their issues themselves. He shook his head in amusement.

“How strange, the Alor never mentioned these missions to me.” Came a deeply agitated rumble from behind a crimson and navy helmet.

The young scout hung there in a manner that reminded him of a sulking striil pup. “Okay! Alright! I kneel!” She huffed. “I’ll tell you what I’ve been up to for the last few months. Or… what the Alor says I can tell you. Just stop embarrassing me in front of my cyar- uh, vod.”

Well. That settled it then. Kadla and Partra were definitely something. Judging from how stiff Adatoya had gone it was not very welcome news.

The large verd slowly turned to glower down the hall at the purple armored scout, who just gave a cheeky nonchalant wave in response.

Jango let out a sigh, reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose. He hadn’t expected his negotiations with the Covert to devolve into family drama. “Adatoya, I’d appreciate it if you set Kadla down. Any kind of fighting will be taken to the sparring mats, understood?” He gave the large verd a stern look of disapproval that seemed to work on most of his warriors, and Anakin. Apparently looking disappointed was a much better motivator than looking pissed.

Some days he wondered if he was running a childcare service and not an underground military operation.

As if things couldn’t get any weirder the moment Kadla’s boots touched the floor Partra was stepping away from the wall and reaching for a weapon, attention focused on some commotion down the hall.

“Don’t even think about it. You’d be dead before you could twitch.” Came a disdainful and refined voice that was all too familiar.

“For Ka’ra’s sake, Vau! Stand the shab down already.” Another familiar voice, this one sounding like it came from behind clenched teeth. “And you, the Mand’alor’s expecting us.”

A wide grin crossed Jango’s face and he was moving before he even registered the two verde, and one striil, coming around the corner. “Kal, Walon! Surprised the two of you are in one piece if you came this way together.”

Kal let out a snort as he stepped closer and held out his arm. Jango reached out and clasped forearms with the man. It was good to see him, despite everything.

“Alor, heard some hushed rumors and had to come see for myself.” The man looked down at his newly painted beskar’gam and grinned. “Nice to see the rumors weren’t exaggerated.”

Jango chuckled and released Kal’s arm so he could turn and offer it to Walon. Lord Mirdalan made a low grumbling noise, defensive in the face of near strangers, but a small gesture from Walon had the striil backing down.

“Mand’alor. Welcome back.” The man acknowledged as he clasped Jango’s forearm.

Jango felt a burning lump in the back of his throat but ignored the feeling. He could examine his own emotions later when he wasn’t busy welcoming old friends home.

“You gave your ad a striil?” Walon asked him sharply, practically radiating judgment.

Kango tried to stifle his grin but gave up. “Slaving bastards will think twice before they try to take him from me again.”

The man let out a hum of acknowledgment before letting go of his arm and stepping back. “Striile aren’t something you give an ad without any training.”

Jango sobered. “The local breeder as been helping to train the two of them when there’s time. So far Pitata’s been good for An’ika. He’s taken the responsibility to heart and hasn’t complained when things have gotten tough.”

Walon didn’t respond, either because he was silently judging Jango’s decisions or because he had accepted the reason given. Honestly sometimes it was hard to tell with Walon. He was a stoic bastard.

He turned to Kal and rolled his eyes when the man grinned at him. “You always said you had no time for any ade of your own. Look at you now! Anakin seems like a great ad.” The man had that look on his face, like whenever he spoke of his own kids. A cross between sappiness and regret.

“He is.” Jango knew he was smiling like an idiot but it was hard not to when he thought about his shu’shu’ika. “And I’ll do anything to keep him safe.” His voice came out harsher than he’d intended but that just seemed to resonate with those around him, rather than put them off.

All strong, good, Haat’ade.

“I hope you have someone watching over the ad, then. They were far too willing to let me get close. All it took was pacifying the striil pup and the ad was happy to talk.” Walon said with a scoff. “The ad needs a more dedicated teacher, instead of some weekend tutor.”

Jango shared a look with Kal, who just shrugged in confusion, before turning back to Walon. About to tell the verd off for overstepping and telling him how to raise his kid he spied Mird sniffing at Partra nearby. A slow grin crossed his face. “Actually, that sounds like a great idea.”

[Anakin]

When his buir came back from his meetings for the day he ran over to give him a hug, Pitta on his heels letting out amused chuffing noises. Hearing a familiar grumble that hadn’t come from his friend he leaned around his buir to see the black armored warrior from earlier. Smiling he waved at them in greeting.

“An’ika, I know you met them earlier but this is Walon Vau, an old friend of mine, and their striil Lord Mirdalan.” A flash of mischief and amusement had Anakin squinting up at his buir, wary for a prank or a trick. But his buir just grinned. “They’re going to be training with you and Pitata from now on. At least an hour every second day.”

Anakin beamed in excitement. “Wicked!” Leaving the safety of his buir’s arms he trotted over to the black armored verd and held out his arm. “I look forward to learning from you!”

The verd didn’t give any outward appearance of emotion, standing carefully still, but Anakin thought he could sense apprehension and embarrassment from the older verd. Reaching out they clasped his arm in a firm grip. “I am not an easy teacher. Your training will be challenging and I won’t accept any complaints.” As they spoke he got the impression that they were also staring down his buir.

“An’ika also studies the beskad with Wad’e, you’re welcome to come spar any time.” His buir retorted, grin widening when the verd stiffened.

“Perhaps I will. Now, if there is nothing else?” They asked, going glass-like in the force once more.

“No, I’ll add your teaching sessions to the schedule. I’ll have other work for you as well. In the meantime feel free to get acquainted with the compound.” His buir still felt like he’d pulled some great prank but Anakin had no idea what it could be.

“Until next time, Mand’alor, Ven’alor.” The verd turned on their heel, tapped against their motun’bur to catch their striil’s attention, then marched off with their head held high as if they were on a mission. It almost looked like a retreat.

Once they were gone his buir let out a wheeze before planting his hands on his thighs and letting out a full belly laugh. Apparently whatever prank he was playing wasn’t on Anakin, but on the verd who just left.

Anakin crossed his arms over his chest and frowned. “Buir?”

The man chuckled and wiped a tear away from the corner of his eye, sobering as he straightened. “What is it An’ika?”

“Are you sure this is going to be okay? They feel… weird in the force. Like glass.”

His buir blinked and frowned. “Huh. They’re mir’kotyc, like me. What’s the difference between them and me?”

Anakin smiled. “You feel like beskar. Strong and warm. Safe. But they feel more like glass. Slippery, cold, and… and like if I really tried, if I really wanted to hurt them, they’d shatter.” It wasn’t a comfortable feeling, knowing he could break someone if he used the force just the right way. “I think they should talk to Mir’baar’ur Shuvha.”

With a gentle smile his buir came over and clapped him gently on the shoulder. “I’ll let the mir’baar’ur know about it. I know why Walon is like that, and we’re going to work on helping them. But you don’t need to worry about that. You just focus on your studies. Leave the adults to the adults, alright ad’ika?”

He let out a heavy sigh. “Okay.”

“Look on the bright side, shu’shu’ika, now that you and Pitata have a proper trainer you’ll be able to go on an actual hunt soon.”

Anakin grinned and reached down to scratch at Pitta’s head when they came over to nudge his leg, knowing he and his buir were talking about them. “I can’t wait!”

[Jango]

As with everything in his life there couldn’t be any good without the bad. When he returned from a short lunch with his kid he was met with grim faces.

“Mand’alor, you need to see this.”

Heading to the comms center he nodded toward the verd on duty. They loaded up the message and he waited.

“This is a message for the true Mand’alor, Jango Fett. I can’t tell you who I am or where I’m contacting you from. But I have word on a major attack coming soon from Kyr’tsad and needed to warn you. As a sign of good faith I’ve sent an encrypted file with something I know you’ll want, along with the information about the attack. I’ll contact you again in the future if I can.”

Jango frowned and crossed his arms over his chest in thought. “Have you decrypted the message?”

“Yes, Alor, I’ve also run it through every known test I can think of. It’s just a text document and image file, nothing more.

Jango nodded. “Put them on screen.”

The image that appeared was of a severe looking blonde woman with features so familiar it made his heart clench with ache inside his chest. Everyone in the room had gone completely silent but he couldn’t bring himself to address their confusion as everything around him faded into the background.

Only one word slipped past his lips as he stared at the image.

“Arla.”


Mando'a;

Ad'ika- Little one
Ad- Child
Beskad- Mandalorian iron sword.
Beskar'gam- Mandalorian iron armor
Buir- Parent, non-gendered.
Cyare- Beloved, can be used romantically or to mean someone who is well liked by others.
Gai bal Manda- 'Name and soul,' Mandalorian adoption ritual
Ka'ra- Stars, an ancient Mandalorian myth about the ruling council of fallen kings who live in the heavens.
Kyr'tsad- Death Watch
Mand'alor- Sole Ruler
Mir'baar'ur- Mind healer or therapist
Mir’kotyc- Strong willed, resistant to the force. Either naturally or through training.
Motun’bur- Thigh armor.
Ori'vod- Elder sibling or older friend
Riduurok- Mandalorian wedding vows/ceremony
Shu'su'ika- Little disaster
Striil/Strill- Highly intelligent six-legged hunting carnivore, capable of gliding and flight. Native to the planet Mandalore.
Ven'alor- Heir, future ruler.
Verd/Verde- Warrior/Warriors.
Vod'ika- Younger sibling or friend
Vod- Sibling of same/similar age, or a close friend.