#jango and boba are DISGUSTED

[casp1an-sea]

I love TCW and TBB but the white washing still pisses me off

All clones are meant to look like their live action counter pasts which are portrayed by Temuera Morrison 

Temuera Morrison  IS NOT WHITE

HE IS Māori

I’ve literally heard people say “He’s not POC because he’s light skinned” or “He’s not POC because he’s got Scottish ancestry”

That’s just fucking stupid and racist you’re disgusting!

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This is a picture of Temuera Morrison around the time Attack of the clones was being filmed and also him portraying Jango Fett in that movie:

As you can see he is not super pale and his hair is VERY CLEARLY CURRLY!

Now here is a picture of Rex with the normal clone skin tone next to my poor boy Tech :(

LIKE WTF??????

After the release of the original trailer for season one of TBB they actually had to go back in and darken the clones skin tone due to all the back lash they got, but Tech still looks like this and Crosshair is also paler then the other clones aside from Tech.

Then there’s the clones with longer hair like Howzer, Obviously Hunter, and now Emerie too. WHERE’S THE CURL????? I highly doubt every clone straightens their hair every day!

It’s also the child clones too!

Omega always looks like she has pin straight hair

here’s some more examples

I will give them a partial pass because Daniel Logan who portrayed young Boba Fett in live action does not have the same hair texture as Temuera but still I feel like it should be based more on the adults then the children and the adults aren’t even accurate! Plus the kids are kinda pale too.

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AND I DON’T WANT TO HERE ANYONE SAYING THAT IT WAS A STYLISTIC CHOICE OR THRY COUND’T MANAGE IT. THEY’VE DRAWN MULTIPLE HAIR TEXTURES BEFORE! and that’s also just not an excuse in general. If an art style can’t accurately represent certain hair textures there is a problem with that art style.

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Also I gotta say it I am not a fan of the cyborg Echo design

Like come on now give my boy back his melanin

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It’s season three Of TBB with new episodes coming out every Wednesday and there’s been seven seasons of TCW. Why has Disney not adressed these issues and fixed them if it’s something the fans have been mad about for a long time? Star Wars loves taking advice from their fans until they critique it on their harmful design choices.

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I know this is a Star Wars thing, but I think it’s important for everyone to see

@xen-blank @thehollowwriter @ferris-the-wheel @fizzydreamz @hyperfixation-or-death

@ravenwing0110 @keii-starz @distant-velleity

@krenenbaker @elenauaurs @the-banana-0verlord @edith-is-a-cat @dove-da-birb

@cimonim-crunch @theosb0rnway @fryofthefrench

@sunshinechildskywalker @xentari94

#Star Wars #tbb #tcw #white washing

[notthestarwar]

Fox

Fox is a fun one! So Fox obviously is barely in canon, so he's a blank slate really. But here's some of how I see him.

Cody

Boba

Kix

Obi Wan

Anakin (1 2 3 4 5)

Jango (1 2 3 4 5 6)

Clones

Is Jango a father to the clones

I have a hc that Fox really hates himself, he's convinced that Jango had to be some kind of evil to do what he did, and he's sure that exists in him too. He's terrified of himself. He doesn't want to become Jango but he's sure he will and there's nothing he can do to prevent that. He's completely wrong of course, you can't be born evil and besides he's nothing like Jango but it's a case of if you look for something, you'll find it. He loves his brothers intensely and his only reason for living is to save them from his life. I think he doesn't really show that love though. His self hatred just results in this utter apathy for everything.

He wants to be loved pretty intensely but he doesn't think he deserves it, so he's disgusted in himself for wanting it. I've seen other ppl who also think he hates himself but is aware of it, but personally I don't think of him as someone who is aware of this. He doesn't come across as someone with no self confidence, rather he comes across as someone who's a bit of a dick, and is always willing to see the worst in a situation. He's kind of cold and he's determined that the galaxy is evil and there's no doing anything about it. There's no point to it pretty much. He comes across as pretty arrogant if anything. The idea of him being vulnerable is disgusting to him, so he is just living a lie pretty much.

I like to think of Fox and Cody as two sides of the same coin.

They both are driven by this deep deep love of their brothers. They are each ultra competent. They are both willing to die for their duty to their brothers.

But where Cody is the blinding brightness of the midday sun, Fox is the sickly neon of the Coruscant underlevels, where its always night.

If Cody is the sun, burning himself up for his duty

Fox is withering away as he denies himself light, so he can spare it for his brothers

Cody feels too greatly, Fox does not allow himself to feel at all. He's apathetic

They are both scared they'll end up like Jango but they both think very different things went wrong with Jango. Cody thinks Jango had the potential to do better, but didn't try, because he'd convinced himself it wasn't necessary. He'd convinced himself he was doing the best. But Fox thinks Jango was just rotten, an evil person. There was no fixing him.

To Cody, a person's ability to change the world they live in is their greatest weakness. He is afraid of warping the world around him in his denial.

To Fox, you can not change your nature. There are some that are born bad. Jango was one of these people, Fox is one of these people. The galaxy can't be fixed. It's bad because its full of bad people in positions of power and always will be

Cody is scared of what he isn't, that he won't be enough to save them.

Fox is afraid of what he is

Again sources are from Google/ other webs so let me know if they're wrong

#fox #commander fox #character web #sw webweave #star wars web weave

[padawansuggest]

Sometimes I remember that there was an alpha clone (Spar, but be warned I’m writing this from memory mostly I haven’t read this wikia in years) who ended up with all of Jango’s memories, was absolutely disgusted by the cloning as a whole, left to Mandalore and successfully campaigned for the next Mand’alor. So, 1: don’t claim the Kryze fam as the last ruling fam lol it was still the Mereel/Fett legacy thanks and 2: Jango as a root person fucking hates the cloning process and 3: for those of you that want to make fics where he wasn’t a willing progenitor and it took Sith bullshit to get him to do it? Yeah it actually supports that idea so go crazy my loves I’m writing those fics too. And also 4: I just remember there is another Prime Memory clone out there who didn’t get a son and this can work with both fics where he adopts Boba, fics where he adopts Din Djarin, fics where he decides to keep Kenobi as his adult baby, whatever you want fam, all three if it pleases you. Thanks. Love you.

#I’ve decided to start writing posts as a bubblegum goth thanks #star wars #alpha spar #I don’t even particularly care about his character he just amuses ne #we support Mereel Fett legacy in this household #I hope this post slaps your nuts like you want it to

[lamaenthel]

You Weren't Supposed To Get Hurt

[read on ao3][masterlist]Febuwhump prompt: You weren't supposed to get hurt

Mij Gilamar cares for Boba after he's maimed in a horrible training accident.

Characters: Mij Gilamar, Boba Fett, Jango Fett, Taun We Wordcount: 798

Mij had been a doctor longer than he had been a Mandalorian, but he'd been both for a long time. It took him years to get accustomed to battlefield injuries on warriors that were too young to even grow chin hair. He didn't know how long it would take him to get accustomed to the wounds of soldiers on toddlers, nor did he want to. Unfortunately with live-fire training, accidents were inevitable.

"Show me." Jango Fett crossed his arms and stared at the boy in the bed.

Mij hesitated. "I had to go high. The bone was soup, Jango, there was no saving it."

"Then shabla show me." Jango turned that razor-sharp glare onto Mij, and for a few seconds he knew what it felt like to be a vhe'viin spotted by a jai'galaar. 

"I'm sorry, Daddy," Boba whimpered pitifully in the bed. His little brown face was swollen and bruised from concussive damage. Mij desperately wanted to hug him, but didn't dare with Jango standing right there. "I don't know what happened. It just exploded and then, and then…"

"Quiet." Jango ripped the covers off and stared at what was left of his son; Mij had spoken the truth. He'd had to go high. Boba's left leg had been amputated only a few inches below his hip, but Mij had managed to preserve almost his entire right thigh. A platter bomb had gone off on the sim course. Some lunatic had put a live, fierfecking platter bomb in the course with four and five year-olds. 

Mij's contract didn't end for another five and a half years. He wasn't sure that he was going to make it that long without jumping into the cold, dark ocean outside.

"How did this happen?" Jango demanded. "This was just a training simulation! You weren't supposed to get hurt, let alone…"

Boba started to cry. "Daddy, I don't know."

Jango pulled the covers back up, disgusted. "I can't believe this is happening." He began to pace around the small room like a caged raxshir.

"The Kaminoans have every prosthesis you could imagine," Mij tried, watching him nervously. Jango Fett was a being that was capable of extraordinary violence on a good day, and Mij'd just cut his son's legs off. He subtly mirrored Jango's path around the room with the angle of his body, careful to keep Boba between them.

Jango snorted. "Prostheses. He's five years old and he's going to have to spend his entire life running around on sticks glued to his stumps." He wouldn't look at Boba. "So much for my damn legacy."

"At least he's alive!" Mij exclaimed, his heart breaking. Boba was hyper aware of how much he had disappointed his father and it showed on his miserable little face. "Karase, Jango, your son is alive. I'm furious as well, but isn't that better than the alternative?"

Jango stopped in his tracks and shot him a glare that practically burned with acidic anger. 

"Daddy?" Boba wiped his tears and blinked pitifully up at him. "I promise I'm gonna do just as good on the… the prostesess, just as good as I did on my legs."

Jango pulled his bare glove off and touched his son's forehead. "I know you will not let me down like this again, son, understand?"

Boba nodded vigorously, his big brown eyes still wet with tears. "Yes, Sir."

Mij wanted to throw up.

Someone knocked twice on the door, then Taun We and Nala Se let themselves into Mij's small medbay. "We heard about today's unfortunate accident," Taun We said apologetically, gingerly pressing his hands together. "After a thorough investigation, we have discovered that there was an error in the simulation that Alpha-00 participated in."

Jango spun on his heel. "What?"

"Training explosives are supposed to be altered to be nonlethal. The one placed in the simulation today was an unaltered, high-powered device."

A muscle in Jango's jaw flexed. "So you're telling me that a fully charged platter made it onto the training sim out of negligence? That this wasn't a freak accident?"

"We accept responsibility for the error." Taun We bowed again. "Due to the permanent damage your personal clone has sustained, we would like to offer the option to terminate and start anew."

Boba froze in the bed. Jango's cold, predatory eyes flicked to him, then back to Taun We. "Let's talk outside," he said shortly, leading the way without a word to his son.

"Daddy?" Boba called, shaking. "Daddy, what do they mean? Daddy?"

The door slid shut. "It's going to be fine, ad'ika," Mij lied to Boba with a smile he didn't feel. He took the little boy's hand and squeezed it. He suddenly found that he didn't care if Jango saw or not. "Everything will be just fine."

Taglist: @starwarsficnetwork, @febuwhump, @soliloquy-of-nemo Divider: @saradika-graphics

#febuwhump #febuwhumpday13 #jango fett #boba fett #mij gilamar #pls note that this is whump and not what i actually think jango would do in a million years lol #my writing

[dalekofchaos]

My biggest problems with Filoni’s Star Wars

I'd say my biggest critiques of Filoni's Star Wars would be

Complete change in Anakin's character from AOTC to the character he is portrayed as in TCW. We NEVER see Anakin knighted, so he should not be given a Padawan. Nor do I think Anakin is capable nor do I think the Council would trust Anakin with a Padawan.  Honestly the change in Anakin's character felt like giving into RLM's complaints about Anakin and just turned Anakin into a mix of Luke and Han, but that’s not Anakin. 

Lightening the skin of the clones and Boba and not bringing back Temmura to voice the clones, The whole whitewashing of the Clones is downright disgusting.

Constantly retcons. Kanan’s backstory. Ahsoka’s novel has recently been retconned. This is getting ridiculously mean spirited, it’s like the man has no respect for the canon novel/graphic novel writers. 

Everything about Barriss. A Muslim coded character who was loved in the EU. And what does he do? From someone who was Anakin’s temporary is deaged to be Ahsoka’s, makes her willing to be okay for dying for the Jedi and having her bomb the Jedi Temple. I hope this was just him being tone deaf, but if intentional, oh boy yikes.

EVERYTHING ABOUT GRIEVOUS

EVERYTHING ABOUT MANDALORE AND THE STUPID RETCON OF THE FETTS BEING MANDALORIAN(YES I KNOW ALMEC IS AN ASS, BUT THIS WAS DIRECT FROM FILONI AND PABLO HIDALGO)

Minor nitpick but changing Obi-Wan's armor from the awesome design from the micro series to what he has from TCW. It’s like going from Gucci to Walmart.

Erasing Alpha 17 and Captain Fordo

The Bad Batch. It again enforces the whitewashing of the clones and could've easily been Delta Squad, since they are essentially the same fucking characters.

Bringing back Maul. Maul served a purpose. Sure George regretted killing him off too soon and I do think he should have been the Vader of the Prequels. But god, the way they hammered him in TCW, Rebels and Solo? Good god it's ridiculous.

The same damn story in EVERY Star Wars story. It's less noticeable in TCW and Rebels. It's good for The Mandalorian, but The Bad Batch just makes it clear he only knows how to tell one type of story. Grumpy man is forced to take care of small sunshine child.  What's next? Book of Boba Fett doing it with Boba and Dash?

Abundantly clear he did not care about Boba Fett and used Book Of Boba Fett as a prop for The Mandalorian. Boba Fett doesn't do Boba Fett type things. He's a crime lord that doesn't do any crimes. He's outwitted by everyone in the show and instead of reaching out to characters Boba knows like Bossk, IG-88 etc, we need Din. And instead of focusing on flashbacks with Jango that focuses on his Mandalorian heritage, again we get proto-Mando season 3.  It honestly would've been better to keep Grogu out of TBOBF cause now people are forced to watch it to see how Din reunites with Grogu instead of watching The Mandalorian season 3. If he didn't want to write for a show about Boba Fett, then he shouldn't have written a show about Boba Fett. 

Ahsoka living through all 3 trilogies. The Jedi are supposed to be all extinct by the time of the Empire, Obi-Wan and Yoda should be the only survivors. Ahsoka lives beyond Order 66, throughout the Galactic Civil War and Filoni plays favorites and literally uses time travel to bring her back. Then apparently she lasts beyond the Galactic Civil War(why did she not meet Obi-Wan, Yoda, Luke or Leia?) Like fuck it is convoluted that she's survived this long. Hell, I will also say that Ezra, Cal and Cere should be dead too. Thrawn's fleet should have crushed the Rebels on Lothal and Vader should have killed Cal and Cere in Fallen Order.  No one but Obi-Wan, Yoda and the Twins should be left alive from the Jedi. Luke is the Last Jedi for a reason. I came up with an emotional death for Ahsoka in Order 66,  Rex kills her and then Rex kills himself. But for sure if Ahsoka survived  Order 66, she should have died against Vader in Twilight Of The Apprentice. She should have died against Vader, it would solidify him as the monster that he is at this point in time: the one that can only be saved by his son who in turn would be saved by him. It took away all the tension and emotion by using World Between Worlds in bringing Ahsoka back. Filoni pulled a Moffat by having a dead character come back to life an episode/season later. Kind of insulting. Like imagine if Leia used WBW to prevent Alderaan’s destruction or imagine if Luke used it to stop Anakin’s fall. Yes it would be satisfying to prevent a tragedy, but for story purposes it takes away the tension and the monstrosity of the Empire. I think it would have been a good end if she was killed by Vader. In their fight she even says "I won't leave you, not this time!", but then time travels out of them and never tries to go to him again. I don't really know what they'll do with her, she isn't mentioned once in the sequels by Luke, so seems unlikely they met up. I don't think there is much they can do with her, not to mention its now dumb that she didn't turn up in the OT.  Better she get killed by Vader in a poignant death scene. With her lamenting she couldn't give Anakin a proper burial with Padme much less kill Vader. Then Ahsoka appeared in THe Mandalorian. Good moment, but you are telling your new audience they need to watch your animated shows in order to even know who this character even is. Also it’s kind of insulting Ahsoka lived this long. And honestly Ahsoka living past Order 66 and past the Galactic Empire is the epidemy of refusing to let go and let your oc die. I've said countless times how Ahsoka has surpassed her expiration date and I stand by my point. For Ahsoka to survive all the way up to TROS is both baffling and insulting and it implies that Ahsoka stood by and did not help Luke with Ben. It implies she stood by and did nothing while The First Order was reigning and only waited until the last minute for the Emperor to return. Like Filoni confirmed she wasn't a force ghost, so it's just baffling she lived this long and Filoni should've just let go. She outlived the Empire AND the Skywalkers since Filoni said Ahsoka isn’t dead(good god man let her go) It's clear at this point that Dave Filoni doesn't know when to let go of her as a character. I like her, but It's kind of insane to me that she's now a part of all 3 eras of Star Wars. George Lucas wanted Ahsoka to die at the end of The Clone Wars, but Filoni somehow convinced him that she should live. Ahsoka Tano is a lot like The Simpsons. Great at first, but now I just roll my eyes at her existence. Ahsoka has been overexposed and it shows. She's a great character, but she's just become as overexposed as Maul was.

I also would include these videos about Filoni to my critiques

#Star Wars #Anti Filoni #Anti Dave Filoni #Anakin Skywalker #Clone Troopers #Boba Fett #Barriss Offee #General Grievous #Obi Wan Kenobi #Darth Maul #Ahsoka Tano #Alpha 17 #Captain Fordo #Delta Squad

[mercurydancer]

An Unexpected Chance Pt. 20

Taking Overs and Happenings

_

Boba would give Jango the pleasure of seeing all that he might have become had he grown up with a loving and caring father... - R. A Salvatore, Attack of the Clones Novelization

"The government he would serve would be Authority personified. Human Authority… At war's end the aliens would be crushed, stripped of all they possessed, and their systems and their wealth would be given to the hands of the only beings who could be trusted with them. Human beings. Dooku would serve an Empire of Man."

"He's no longer even entirely human. With Grievous, the use of those bio-droid devices is almost forgivable; he was such a disgusting creature already that his mechanical parts are clearly an improvement. But a blend of droid and human? Appalling. The depths of bad taste." [Dooku to Sidious about working with Anakin] - Revenge of the Sith Novelization Matthew Stover pg. 49; 51

(and anyway did you all know that Dooku was a racist ableist bitch because I tell you the fuck what... Dave Filoni makes those fucking weird choices broskis.)

_

          Shmi Skywalker stood on the exit ramp leading to a place that a piece of her heart had always lingered, and yet had never seen, and knew that it was time.

          Her husband, Cliegg beside her, Owen and his wife Beru, behind them, and even further back four Nightbrothers that had joined them in their quest, had become a part of the White Sun. To free others like them, certainly, to find the one that had saved them, absolutely.

          Shmi took a few steps into the Jedi Temple Hanger, aware of the eyes that were on her, the recognition that spread, and wondered how long it would take before…

          The doors at the far end of the hanger burst open, and for a moment Shmi was staring at the living embodiment of her own heart, staring at a young man in dark Jedi robes, Padawan haircut strange and resplendent, blue eyes that held the skies of Tatooine within them, and a smile that rivaled the sun.

          Ani.

          Her boy ran towards her with more speed than seemed possible, and enveloped her in warmth, in the depth of his love, and in that one moment it did not matter that he was taller than her, it did not matter that she could feel the power that radiated towards her in a way she never could when he was young… All that mattered was the arms that were wrapped around her belonged to her boy.

          Shmi Skywalker Lars was holding her son, and it was like no time at all had passed.

          Shmi pulled back slowly, reaching up to brush her hand through her son’s bristly hair, taking the padawan braid in her hand. She looked over the beading, the careful weaving, and then looked to her son’s eyes, smiling.

          “I am so proud of you.”

          Anakin’s eyes filled with tears, and he smiled at her. “Mom,” he said softly.

          “Hello, Ani,” she said, “it’s so good to see you.”

          “It’s…” Anakin took a step back, wiping his eyes, “it’s so good to see you,” and then he looked back at the others, taking in her small family – their small family, and the Brothers they had with them. “What…what brings you here?”

          “I came to see my baby,” Shmi said. “But I have also come to reunite Brothers and because White Sun was called.” She smiled at him, “You apparently have a lot of slaves to help free. We are only the first, the Mandalorians are coming as well.”

          “The Mandalorians?” Anakin asked, and then blinked, looking back at the Brothers, and then smiling at her. “You’ve been working with Maul.”

          “We have,” Shmi smiled. “But before he gets here come, I need to introduce you to some people.” Shmi took his hand and brought him over, standing him before her small family. “This is Cliegg Lars, he is my husband.”

          “Hello, son,” Cliegg said, and then almost immediately winced, “not…that I have to call you that now, you…you likely have to get used to the idea. I understand. I’m sorry, I…”

          “I…have a dad?” Anakin asked, his nose wrinkling slowly as he looked at him, and Shmi laughed aloud.

          “You do,” she said, walking forward to press a kiss to her husband’s cheek, and then taking Owen by the hand, “and this is Owen, he is your step-brother, and this is Beru – his wife.”

          Anakin absolutely boggled, and Shmi could not stop the laughter that rose in her chest, the warmth in her at seeing her small family interact. The Brothers were hanging back, but there was nonetheless a quiet sort of joy in the way they watched. Once Anakin seemed to have settled into the idea of having this bit of family, once he had realized that they were not vanishing, and could see the way they loved each other, could see the way they fit, Shmi took the hand of the oldest brother and led him forward, smiling at seeing how the brothers linked hands together, all approaching as one.

          “Anakin,” she said, getting his attention, “this is Venom,” she said indicating the tallest and the oldest, his tattoo markings standing out black on orange, “this is Spite,” she said about the shortest, who stood beside him, tattoos curling and elegant. “This is Grudge,” she said about the one whose skin was the darkest and whose tattoos were sharp and black. “And this is Wrath,” she indicated the last, skin yellow as the sun, and eyes quick. “They are looking for the one that saved them. They are looking for Maul.”

          “They have found him,” Maul’s voice rang out, and Shmi turned her attention back finding him standing there as well as other faces that she had grown more familiar with over the years, as well as two other Brothers.

          Shmi smiled, she remembered the reports from Soln, she knew who was standing there.

          Maul had brothers. She supposed the ochre one was Feral, the one that had been with Soln as he took him to the Temple. The other, Savage…well, she had been less than pleased to hear the report from the one that took him.

          Hondo was always a pain to deal with, made worse when he was preening, and he had been preening about something even more annoying given the fact that Shmi found herself interested. Shmi looked directly at Maul and found herself smiling.

          “I see that you have found yourself restored,” she said. “I am pleased to see it, though I see it came with a few added centimeters?” she raised a brow, smiling. Maul ducked his head briefly and she laughed quietly, approaching, and standing before him, putting her hands on his shoulders. His skin was warm, and whole, and he stood before her silently as she looked him over. “You look good,” she said.

          “Thank you,” Maul said. “It is good to see you, thank you for coming.” He paused. “Why did you come?”

          Shmi smiled, “I was called,” she said, backing away, and looked to Mace who approached, his hands folded before him. “I hear you have a lot of Blood Slaves that need help.”

          “We do,” Mace said. “I do not believe it will be the same that you usually deal with, but we are not sure. Tiq has been the one that has been talking to them the most, and he will be able to help.”

          “Healer Tiq, who helped both of my boys, where is this Rodian, I would like to thank him.”

          “Oh!” a voice called, and her attention swiveled to a blue Rodian, who took a few steps forward. She met his red eyes and smiled. “Hello,” he called out as he approached, and her smile widened, reaching out to take his hand that he was very happy to give her. “It is good to meet you in person, congrats on your marriage.” He dipped his head to her husband, and smiled at her family, and Shmi watched as her husband glowed, taking a few steps forward.

          “Thank you,” he said. “I got the best deal out of it, I’m sure.”

          Shmi laughed, “Hush.” She turned to Tiq again, taking in his smile, “thank you for doing what you have. Thank you for taking care of them.”

          “Of course,” Tiq said softly, “I had much help.” And the look he gave her was warm and significant, the Rodian that she had spent much time talking to through all hours as the night as they worked together a dear friend. “They have both been wonderful and I am proud of them every day.”

          “So am I,” Shmi smiled, and squeezed his hands in both of hers, before turning to look at Maul. “I brought more of your Brothers. They have been wishing to see you, and have been very patient.”

          Maul took a moment to look at Shmi, and then to turn his attention to the Brothers, Shmi very aware of the way Wrath took a few steps forward first, the others slowly following. But as Maul watched, as his attention fixed they froze. Shmi watched as Maul’s hand curled into a slight fist, and she could see the slow shifting of something like grief, something like sadness in his eyes.

          Feral walked forward then, laughing, and carefully hooked his horns in his brother’s, and as he did Shmi could suddenly see the resemblance for what it was, could see the similarity in jaw, in facial structure, and she beamed. Feral tugged Maul’s head into a gentle angle, pointing the horns off to the side, careful, “Don’t worry,” he called, “come on, Wrath, my brother is not going to fight. He was enslaved by another Master; he does not know yet how to make friends. We shall teach him, though, yes?”

          And Shmi watched the realization spread, even as Maul’s body language relaxed, as he fell further into the invitation, and Wrath’s face spread into a wide smile.

          “Of course, we will teach him much!” and the laughter that bubbled in his voice was audible. “First lesson, then?”

          “Destructions are always better when~”

          Shmi caught the way Feral whispered to his brother, caught the moment when Maul started to stiffen and then very carefully relaxed, and that was the moment when Wrath barreled into him.

          Maul allowed himself to be rolled over in a tangled mess of fabric and limbs and laughter, helped along by the others immediately working to join in, squishing in close, Maul sitting in the middle of a tangle of brothers, including two of his own blood…

          Shmi was aware of the tears that slid down her cheeks.

          Shmi did not care, unable to stop, and unwilling to, pride and joy mixing in her chest. She remembered the young man that had first found them, the one that was looking so hard for a place to belong, a place where he could be himself, a place where he could learn… To see this…? It was all that she had ever hoped for and more.

          Shmi could also see…the moment when it began getting too much.

          Maul was a complicated and utterly tragic combination of touch-starved and so utterly alone that overstimulation was not just likely it was almost always close to the surface. She saw the moment when his enjoyment turned to that prickling desire to pull away, to run. She also saw the moment when something else shaded his gaze as well, and she wondered.

          Being a child for nearly seven months, only to finally grow, to come back, and to be…so different. For everything to be different.

          His Master was dead. Had Maul even been given the opportunity to truly process that, to process what it meant?

          But her worry was alleviated when Savage softly began extracting them, when he pulled his brother up to his feet, and when Maul turned and walked away did not do anything to stop him, nor even appear upset. Instead, he took hold of Feral’s hand, and knocked his horns against the other Brothers, ones that Shmi realized Savage likely knew.

          “My brother has been alone for a long time, and much has changed,” he said softly.

          “It is alright, Brother,” Venom said, “he will be alright.”

          Shmi caught Tiq following after, and she turned her attention to Mace, before looking back to Anakin. “We will have more time to be reacquainted soon,” she said, “but we have been called for a reason.”

          “We have more Blood Slaves to help,” Anakin smiled, and Shmi could feel nothing but pride.

_

          Maul walked.

          He did not particularly know where he was going, and he was not sure if he cared. All he knew was he had to move, he had to…

          So much was happening, so much had changed, and he still did not feel right, and he had been… Maul had been behaving erratically for a Nightbrother. They had seen him and known that he did not belong and that was why… Maul thought of all the other Brothers that he had saved. All of the other Brothers that he had taken to safety before he had heard of the Holocron… All of the ones that had been distant, that had not wanted to stand near him…

          Maul had thought they had been afraid of him because of what he had rescued them from. He had thought it had been because they were wary of his touch and his presence… Now Maul was realizing that he had simply…warded them off. He had not known how to welcome their presence and so none of them had come.

          Maul was buzzing. He did not know if it was better or worse to understand that it was because he truly did not know how to exist as a Nightbrother.

          And then…and then…Maul’s Master, he had been…

          But…

          “Maul,” Tiq’s voice called out, sending his thoughts stuttering to a brief halt, even if his legs kept walking, and Tiq quickly caught up to him, walking alongside. “Talk, pressure, movement?”

          And the question was so familiar, was one that they had worked on, a quick and dirty sort of way to figure out what his first need was, and then the possibility of going from there.

          “Movement,” Maul said, almost without thinking of it, led by the feeling of itchiness in his skin, the slight stutter in his walk that he was sure only he could feel. He needed to get used to his own body once again, and the fact that it was once again was somehow even worse. How much more could he go through? What else was he required to give? How many bits of his own hearts would he have to sacrifice before…

          “Come,” Tiq said, and turned on his heel, walking without once touching him, and Maul followed immediately. It was a drill they had perfected over the years, one that Maul could fall into and just…not think about it.

          Maul was tired of thinking.

          Maul stood in the elevator next to Tiq, closing his eyes, bouncing on his toes, feeling the way he wanted to balance, aware of his own weight in a way that he was unused to. Everything was strange.

          “Obstacles or contact?” Tiq asked softly.

          “Obstacles,” Maul said. He did not want to touch anything, not even if it was to hit it.

          He was at the point where he was certain that he would wind up hitting harder than he wanted to.

          “That’ll be good for you, yes?” Tiq hummed, “give you an opportunity to feel how your limbs want to work.”

          “Yes,” Maul agreed softly. “I am sorry.”

          “Do not be,” Tiq said. “Let’s get your energy out, give you a chance to get used to yourself, and then we can go from there. Orientation times five, yes?”

          “Who, what, where, when, why,” Maul hummed. “What is the date?”

          “The fifteenth, fifth month of the year 7954. It is eleven fifty-four in the morning, and we are in the Halls of Knowledge on the elevator heading towards the Master’s Training Room. It seemed appropriate given the circumstances.”

          “I agree,” Maul said softly. “Tiq, who am I?”

          “You are Darth Maul,” Tiq said softly, “you are a twin, you are twenty-six years old, and you are the younger brother of Savage and Feral. You have an unnatural fondness for spice,” Maul smirked, “a tendency to fling yourself in situations that are much too big for you,” that smirk shifted to a smile, “and you are also someone that I care for a very great deal.”

          Maul opened his eyes and met Tiq’s own, taking in the smile.

          “I am very proud of you, Maul,” Tiq said. “You are alright. You have been given a great deal to hold all at once, do not worry if you find yourself unable to hold it all. It is expected that you will leak a little. Let us get all of that energy out of your system and we can work on processing it.”

          Maul was quiet for a moment, taking all of that in, and softly, “Pressure would not be bad…” he breathed.

          Tiq immediately pulled him into a tight hug, squeezing, Maul finding himself leaning into it, and finally going to hug him back.

          The sound of the elevator doors opening caused Maul to take a step back. The hollowness was still there in his chest, but it was not as yawning.

          “Come on,” Tiq said and led him to the training rooms.

_

          Tiq was aware of the way that Maul was buzzing, could feel the burn in the other’s presence, the flickers of flame that shivered. Tiq could not blame him, and when they finally came into the training rooms, Tiq walked off to the side, very aware of the way Maul launched himself forward into a sprint.

          Tiq picked up the player that he had left here, and flicked through the songs, before finally humming and picking the tune he thought would work the best, and pressed play.

          Tiq moved to sit with his legs crossed and watched.

          As the music swelled Maul ran, leaning further and further forward before finally rolling forward and springing up, landing on his hands and letting himself fall backwards in an arch, catching himself on his feet and once again springing. He smoothed his motions as the words in the song crooned, allowing himself to stretch his limbs, to roll and pose, to leap and to adjust.

          It was always spectacular watching Maul move, and he had only improved with age.

          As the song crunched Maul sped up, letting his knees go to his chest, his limbs to akimbo, his feet to nearly fly across the mats, twisting and rolling and spinning, and then when the singer’s voice began he once again slowed his movements, letting himself stretch, to grow accustomed to that extra length.

          Maul slowly grew more comfortable, letting himself leap higher, roll longer, and finally begin to leap off the obstacles that were scattered. He ran up walls, swung himself over edges and plummeted sheer drops, rolling and spinning and twisting as he did so. As the song ended, Tiq picked another, humming quietly as he crunched through and found one whose energy cranked even higher.

          The drums pounded, escalating, as it beat and beat and beat…

          And finally, it all exploded, and Maul launched himself into motion.

          There were no attempts to stretch this time, no attempts to slow it down, the motions violent, a kata in air, all swift kicks, and fists and what would be blood.

          And then finally the song cranked down, and Maul froze, foot high in the air above his own head, a straight-line drawn heel to heel, and he slowly lowered that foot down, brought it level to groin, and held it, still keeping to that line with his thighs. It wound itself up and Maul kicked straight up, fell backwards, and rolled into a series of twists and rolls, ending finally as the song warbled and trailed off with that same line with the other leg.

          And finally, he stood there, bouncing on his toes, and began slowly easing himself into a much gentler series of movements.

          And so Tiq played one last song, smirking softly as the soft cords resonated, and the song truly began, and Maul blinked, before laughing, and then closed his eyes and just let himself move.

          Sweeping low, all movements about length, about reach, about growing used to the limits of his own flexibility… He let his limbs stretch and curl and pull and push, shifting as the pitch warbled, as her voice bent and he slowly allowed himself to follow. Tiq watched as the last song moved him through a cooldown, as he let himself roll forwards along the ground, to touch his toes, to lean his chest to the floor between his split legs and bring them slowly up over his head, and then slowly to stretch out along the floor again.

          Tiq was certain his own bones would have broken.

          The song carried Maul through his final movements, through the drawing of several lines, and finally Maul lay on the ground completely flat, his eyes closed, and the tension that had been in his limbs, had been vibrating just under the skin had finally eased.

          “I would have thought you’d develop a spine with age,” Tiq called softly, “it seems I was wrong.”

          Maul laughed.

          Tiq counted it as a win.

          Maul slowly stood up then, shaking his limbs out once and then finally approaching Tiq, and Tiq could see how much smoother he was, how his gait had gentled, and he seemed to fit himself more, before finally sitting down crossed legged before him.

          “Hello,” Tiq said with a smile.

          “Hello,” Maul said, breathing deep and slow. “You said you had something for me?”

          “I do,” Tiq said. “And for as much as I wish to give it to you now, I think we need to settle everything else first. It’s…a gift, but it can also be a double-edged one.”

          “And double-edged sabers are handled with much care.”

          “Exactly,” Tiq grinned. “So first…how are you?”

          “I…” Maul laughed, rough, and understandably wet, “Tiq I do not understand, so much has happened, I just…” he closed his eyes. “I feel like everything is moving so fast, and I am… I have brothers? I have brothers and they love me, and I remember…so much and not enough, and I have…all of this is inside of me, and I do not know where it goes, I do not know where it fits with who I am and what I became, and… There is a part of me that feels like I can allow…I can allow…myself to breathe…the space to relax…and the other part of me that knows better. My Master is dead, and my brother killed him to spare me… My Master was the Chancellor, and he was…kind…to me…” Maul wiped his face.

          “Tiq, why was he so kind to me? Was he just…was he trying…and when he said…was he just trying to fool me? To destroy me?” Maul held his hands out and Tiq took them, holding them within his own softly. “Tiq I do not understand,” he breathed. “I do not want… I want…” Maul’s expression crumbled, and he pulled his hands back, fisting them in his lap, “why would I grieve? Why would I grieve when I know…I know that he must have… Tiq…do you think that he hated me?”

          Tiq smiled, and it was rough, and it was hard. “And so, we once again are at the question at the center, and this time I do have an answer. And it is one I think you know, which is why you keep questioning it. It’s the reason you find yourself grieving even when you hate. And I know you hate him. I know you do. I know that you are not grieving the man. You are grieving the ideal. You are grieving what you wished it could have been. And this, Maul, is the most natural thing in the Galaxy.”

          “I hate it,” Maul hissed.

          “I know,” Tiq said, “and that is okay. That is okay. It is perfectly understandable.” Tiq took a breath and sighed. “Maul, if I had…if I had any other choice I do not know if I would talk to you about this so soon. But things are out of my hands…  Count Dooku…was your Master’s latest weapon, and I was forced to blackmail him.”

          “You-Tiq…wait, what?”

          Tiq smiled, “you see, Dooku was under the mistaken impression…that he was worth something to your Master. That he was worth something to Darth Sidious…but he was not. He was a weapon. Something to be used and discarded. But…in order to get this through to him I was forced to tell him about you…and about the fact that while your Master believed him to be expendable, to be…exploitable… Maul,” Tiq breathed softly, “your Master did love you, as much as I think he could love anyone.”

          Maul was silent for a moment, his eyes so wide, and so… “Oh,” he breathed.

          “But Maul,” Tiq said, and reached out, Maul taking his hands, unthinking, unhesitatingly, holding so tight… Tiq could feel the tremor, could see… “Maul listen, this is one of the most important things about love that you have to understand – Love is not enough, and in some cases, in many ways…love can actually be used to hurt, to cut. And your Master cut you deep with it. His affection was possession, and his love was in the form of control and, too, in a way, on an ideal. That you could not meet this ideal is not anything to do with you. It is entirely to do with him. You did not deserve to be under that. You did not deserve to be controlled and twisted like that. In a way, it does not matter that he loved you. His actions show precisely what he was, and what he was…was cruel, and evil, and vile, and I am happy that fucker is dead.”

          Maul’s face broke into a grin, a laugh tickling at the corners of his mouth, and Tiq leaned forward, Maul’s horns pressing to his forehead unthinkingly, gentle, gentle…

          “You never deserved to be under the care of a man who told you that all you were was a body. You never deserved to be brought up by someone who hurt you, and good fucking riddance. Good fucking riddance I hope it hurt, I hope he was awake and aware all the way down, and I hope he knew just how powerless he was. I hope that he knew just how much we all fucking hated him. Because yes, Maul, I do not think there was a Jedi in that Senate that did not hate him. And we hated him for you. And I want you to understand something, yes? We were glad to hate him.”

          “I think I was right,” Maul said softly, “you probably would be a good Sith.”

          Tiq laughed and pulled back, pressing a kiss to his forehead, a gesture that made Maul grin, “Do you really think so? Would I be a good Sith?”

          Maul paused, the grin fading as he stared at him, thinking, and then he finally sighed. “Oh, very well, so I may be indulging in some wishful thinking.”

          Tiq laughed, “There is nothing wrong with that at all,” he assured softly. “I think I’m even flattered.”

          “You should be,” Maul sniffed, “I do not think that many Jedi would make good Sith, or even spend time thinking about it.”

          “Truly?” Tiq asked, grinning. “No one at all? Not even someone like…oh, you teased him enough about it, but Obi-Wan?”

          Maul pulled a face that was so utterly disgusted, so completely unimpressed that Tiq was hard-pressed to not burst out laughing. “Obi-Wan Kenobi would be the most obnoxious Sith in all of history.”

          Tiq failed at holding his laughter in.

          “He would…he would be so aggressively annoying,” Maul said, his mouth squiggling, his eyes narrowing, “he would…by the Force, Tiq, why would you wish that upon me?”

          Tiq laughed harder. “OH,” Tiq wiped his eyes, “that was about as funny a reaction as I had hoped it would be.”

          “Rude,” Maul huffed. “I am going to have nightmares.”

          Tiq lost it. “Oh, Force, regrouping, Maul, please, how do you feel?”

          “Better,” Maul said, and the complete lack of hesitation was so good to hear. “I…” Maul paused. “I…understand that his love was control. That it was bad for me, and it would almost have been the same as if he hated me. But it is…to know that he did love me… Why?”

          “That I do not know,” Tiq said, “but I do know that whatever the reason it would have never been good enough, and so in this instance the why is beyond consideration. Why? Because he could. Because he wanted control more than he wanted your well-being. Because he was perpetually angry and wanted to take it out on someone that relied on him, none of these reasons are good and none of them are ones that you should hold in your hearts as though they are ones you deserve. His meanings and his reasonings are utterly irrelevant outside of this one simple fact, are you ready?”

          “What is it?”

          “He is dead – and your Master will never be able to hurt you again.”

          Maul took that in for a moment, silent, silent, and Tiq was prepared for the moment when he bowed forward slow, and softly, “Tiq…do you have…do we have the footage. Please, please can I…”

          “Yes,” Tiq said, and pulled the player over, fishing through datachips to finally press one into the machine. “We were able to piece together a record of the fight and how it happened. The holocam in the Senate was damaged, but it was still running. We do have the footage. You can see him die.”

          Maul swallowed, shifting to properly see it, but it was not the death that opened it up, instead, Tiq showed him the interrogation.

          Maul could not stop laughing.

          The opening salvo, the first line of a simple ‘Shut up, bitch’ had been enough to send Maul into a near fit of it, doubling over and his hands over his mouth like he was trying to hold it in for dear life, but it escaped anyway.

          As Tiq chipped away at him, insulted his being and his job and his ability to listen… Maul remained scrunched, almost hiding it, but it was audible, and it was visible, “Very good!” the Tiq of the holocam called out, giving a loud and very exaggerated clap, “that is ten points to the Chancellor of the Republic, you are very good at this, aren’t you?”

          “Yes…I am…”

          And Maul finally started howling.

          Tiq paused the footage, let Maul get over his doubled-up pose, to straighten, to rub at his face and regain his composure. “Tiq,” Maul managed his voice choked, tears in his eyes, “Tiq, you cannot do this to me, this is too much.”

          “Your Master is a bitch! It’s not my fault at all.”

          Maul giggled, a sharp and breathless sound, but so full of joy, and Tiq beamed.

          Tiq let Maul take in the fact that it was an accusation of molestation that had finally gotten him to cave and paused it briefly. “It is, Maul, because I realized he did love you, and he would have had some lines in his behavior towards you. I made a guess as to what it was, and I got lucky. But I need you to know…”

          “That his love was poison,” Maul said briefly, “his love was a chain. And I am free from both.”

          “There is no more poison in your veins, and no chains around your neck,” Tiq agreed softly, “you are free. Now I’m going to skip…”

          “Do…do you have the part where you blackmailed Dooku, please? I want…I want to see that, and to see… I need to see…”

          “I will show you his death,” Tiq promised. “You will see him die, and you will know it to be true.”

          Maul huffed quietly, “am I that obvious?”

          “It’s understandable,” Tiq said softly. “We have claimed Sidious dead before, and it took a Holocron that reverted you to a child for us to be made aware of our mistake. I deeply regret that…”

          “It is alright,” Maul said. “I did not…I never once…”

          “That isn’t entirely true,” Tiq said, “do you remember banning Anakin from speaking to him on his own?”

          Maul blinked. “Do you think…that he would…”

          “I think he would have tried,” Tiq said. “Considered among so many Jedi to be the Chosen One to bring Balance to the Force? What would be a more thrilling conquest than turning that against us?”

          Maul took that in quietly, and softly, quietly, “he would have destroyed him.”

          “He would have,” Tiq agreed, “which is why it’s so crucial, and honestly quite so funny that you simply banned him from seeing him… It is a testament to Anakin’s love of you that he listened. It is very hard work getting a teenager to listen. You did it very easily.”

          “I made him promise on his mother,” Maul said.

          “Ah,” Tiq grinned, “that would definitely do it.” Tiq paused. “Still loves you a great deal, though.”

          Maul laughed. “He is like a younger brother…at least what I imagine it would be like… Tiq…” Maul stared at him for a moment, and there was something so amazed and something so soft in his eyes, “Tiq, I am a twin, I have brothers.”

          “You do,” Tiq smiled, “and I am so glad that you were able to meet them. I am so glad that you found each other.”

          Maul said nothing for a moment, almost basking in it, before he finally sighed, “you were going to show me how you eviscerated Dooku?”

          “Eviscerated is a little strong,” Tiq said, laughing.

          “Incorrect,” Maul said, grinning. “Now let me see!”

          Tiq laughed and worked on scrubbing through the fight, delicately avoiding the moment when he got electrocuted, and then finally let it play as Tiq pressed a few buttons on the chair.

          As Maul realized that Tiq had not known that he was about to call Dooku, as he realized that Dooku had habitually called him ‘My Master,’ Maul doubled over, and nearly shrieked with laughter.

          “HIS FACE!” Maul managed, tears sliding down his face as he absolutely lost his shit, “Tiq!!! You didn’t tell me…he outed himself???”

          Tiq laughed, “I was waiting for this moment. It was worth every second.”

          Maul finally settled slowly, watching the rest of the encounter, and as he took in Bail’s expression, he wiped his eyes. “I want to call him; can I call him?”

          “What are you going to do?”

          “Mock him relentlessly,” Maul answered, purring.

          “Maybe when we get him back to the Jedi Temple. He needs to be contained in a proper cell.”

          “Are you going to rehabilitate him like you did with me?” Maul asked, and there was something almost quietly tolerant.

          Tiq was quiet for a moment. “I do not know what we are going to do with him. With you…you were different in a way. The way you were trained…how you were raised…you knew no other way. It was rehabilitation but it was also almost reeducation. Dooku…” Tiq was quiet for a moment. “Dooku should know better. He was about to…I have seen what your Master was planning, Maul. I have…” Tiq’s face tightened. “Dooku was not just complicit with slave labor, he was working on undermining…” Tiq shook his head. “There is a great deal that he has been doing that is absolutely vile, a great many people have died because of his actions, and…” Tiq paused. “It is interesting, I believe, how a person can trick themselves so thoroughly into believing that they are doing the right thing.”

          “I do understand that,” Maul said with a nod and a shrug.

          Tiq smiled at him and opened his arms, Maul allowing himself to sink into the hug. “Thank you for asking if we do plan on rehabilitating,” he said. “Unlike you, Dooku exists and is a Citizen of the Republic, and he is being tried like one. If I have the opportunity I would, but admittedly I don’t know if he would listen to me.”

          “Why is that?” Maul asked.

          “I’m non-human,” Tiq answered with a shrug.

          “Fucker.”

          Tiq laughed. “Indeed,” he agreed.

          “I hope it stung like hell when he realized that I was the one our Master cared for.”

          “I rather do as well,” Tiq agreed. “But that’s vindictive and I will let that go.”

          “I’ll hold onto it for you.”

          “Thank you,” Tiq laughed. “But it is not necessary.”

          “I will do it anyway,” Maul said. “Because I want to hold it over him.”

          “Sith.”

          “Jedi,” Maul returned, and finally laughed. “I have missed you.”

          “I have missed you as well,” Tiq said. “I am so proud of you. I am so proud of you…you have done so much… It is so good to see that you are alive, and you are well.” Maul shifted to hug him tight, and Tiq laughed quietly, “You’re not quite as easy to hold anymore.”

          “I don’t know if I like it,” Maul said, pulling back. “You cannot tell anyone…”

          “Not a soul,” Tiq agreed.

          “I liked my height,” Maul said. “The fact that most people could pick me up…”

          “It’s a good way to alleviate some of the touch starvation,” Tiq nodded.

          “It is that,” Maul agreed, waving a hand almost grandly, “but more importantly it leads to the idea that I am easier to kill, and therefore makes them easier to stab. They pick me up, I merely…” he mimed stabbing at someone under the ribs, and Tiq wheezed, doubling over, and laughing aloud.

          “Maul!”

          “What?” Maul shrugged, “it is true! If I allow you to hold me in such a manner then…” he shrugged. “I care about you a great deal. Touch starvation or…” Maul trailed off.

          Tiq was quiet for a moment. “You worked with Mandalorians and with Hondo’s pirates, yes? As well as Shmi Skywalker?”

          “Yes,” Maul said. “I was…I was not completely alone.”

          “Just mostly,” Tiq said quietly. “Well. That likely may change.”

          “What did you find out, Tiq? What was my Master planning?”

          “First…” Tiq sighed, “First I am going to show you his death, and then I am going to give you what I found.”

          Tiq opened the footage and allowed Maul to take it in, watching the way Obi-Wan provided such a good distraction from the actual threat of Savage. Maul took the holoprojector from Tiq, replaying the footage, watching as his Master was impaled again…and again…and again…

          And finally put it down and shoved it away from him.

          “Tiq…” he breathed, “my Master is dead…”

          “Yes,” Tiq agreed quietly, “he is dead.”

          Maul paused for a moment, so still… And then, quietly, Maul began to laugh.

          It was a desperate broken little sound, hitched and broken, slowly shifting to something louder, fuller, and finally outright hysterical. It was a shattered, utterly desperate sort of laugh, Tiq waiting, watching, and when that hitched and pained sounding laugh became the start of hitched and pained sobs, Tiq was ready, and opened his arms. Maul folded himself close and wept, and there was such anger in the sound, such… “I hate him, Tiq,” Maul breathed.

          “I know,” Tiq said softly. “I know, it’s alright. You can mourn. It is alright to mourn. It is not fair, and it is not right. You are allowed to mourn.” Tiq held him until he finally ran out of tears and pushed himself back, wiping at his eyes… Tiq caught hold of his hands, squeezing. “Gentle,” Tiq said softly, “there is no reason to make yourself hurt. You are allowed to be kind to yourself, even for something like this. Grief is complicated.”

          “Grief is awful, and I hate it,” Maul grumbled.

          “Understandable,” Tiq said. “But still…be kind.”

          “What did you have for me, Tiq,” Maul said softly.

          Tiq paused for a moment and finally sighed. “Reach for my mind, Maul, feel.”

          Maul narrowed his eyes, and Tiq felt the soft tickling heat of Maul’s Force-presence reaching out for him. Tiq reached out slowly and offered the memories that he had stored. Maul’s presence flickered near them, before it flared in realization and wonder, and Tiq felt the way he brushed against them, and softly, softly… “Tiq…what is that?”

          “Those are your memories,” Tiq answered softly. “Your Master did not just cut them out he kept them. These…I have not looked at them, Maul, but I can feel them, and they are sound.  Your Master kept them, and I think…eventually he was going to give them back. But now…I am.”

          Maul blinked, “can…can you do that?” he breathed, “is it possible, can you…is my mind not too…?”

          “It is not too broken,” Tiq said, “nor is it too scarred over. The brain has a natural elasticity, and in this instance it wants to be whole. I believe…that should we work together, they should be accepted.”

          Maul was quiet for a moment, and softly, quietly, “please.”

          Tiq tilted his forehead towards Maul, feeling the horns press up against him, closed his eyes, and took a breath, feeling Maul do the same…and slowly.

          Steadily…

          Breathed out…

          And plunged into a mind that he knew.

          Maul pulled back with a gasp, standing, his body reeling, staggering away from Tiq and finally falling to his knees.

          “Maul, can I touch you?” Tiq asked, his voice soft, and Maul braced his hands against the ground, breathing, breathing, feeling like he wanted to throw up. There was so much…as so much was flowed into him, as his memories…

          As that dark pillar was given a face.

          As he stared up at Palpatine.

          And thought of him as father.

          Maul vomited into a wastebasket that hadn’t been there, shaking, his body heaving as he emptied everything in his stomach.

          It had been Palpatine, it was him, all of it was him, and then the wastebasket was moving and Tiq was closer, gently hushing, still not touching, still not…

          “Please,” Maul managed softly, and Tiq pulled him close, settled his head on his lap, let him sprawl out, ran a hand up and down up and down his arm…

          “It’s alright,” Tiq breathed, “it is alright.”

          “I loved him once,” Maul breathed. “I loved him. He raised me. I knew him from…my earliest memories…if only as a presence that… Tiq… Please…I don’t want…I don’t want to think of this anymore. I don’t want…”

          “Hush,” Tiq said softly, “you know that is not true.”

          “There is so much…” Maul managed, his voice trembling, “Tiq…”

          “A lifetime, right up until seventeen,” Tiq said. “It is alright. Let yourself settle, I’m right here, grab on.”

          And Maul reached, clinging tight to Tiq’s Force-presence, allowing himself to sink into the Jedi’s peaceful aura, letting it calm him, slowly allowing his mind to trail down paths and links that it had not been able to make in so…long…

          Tiq remained stable and cool, and Maul slowly let himself bask in it, letting his mind settle, flow the anxiety, the hurt, the… There was so much hurt…so much hurt… And it framed…all of those conversations, those moments…

          “Tiq…” Maul breathed, “he wanted me back…”

          “I do think so,” Tiq said, and the hand on his arm was protective, and the presence he basked in was warm, and so welcoming, “but he did not get you. And he will not. You are not his. You are not ours. You are yours. Your chains are broken, Sith. You are free.”

          Maul took that in, closing his eyes and breathing it close.

          Maul was free.

          He was free.

          “Thank you,” he breathed.

          “Of course,” Tiq said. “How are you feeling, Maul? Do you want a spar?”

          “I could use a distraction,” Maul said, and slowly began to push himself up.

          “Excellent,” Tiq said, “because I think that someone…”

          The door to the training room burst open, Obi-Wan marching forward holding…

          Maul was on his feet and as the pike that had been his weapon and his companion for so long flew through the air he reached out…and caught it.

          And let the red blade THRUM into existence, heat and death and warmth in his hand.

          “Aw shit,” Maul cussed, placing it next to him and taking in where the blade length rested on him. “It’s too short.”

          “That is a bit of a challenge,” Obi-Wan hummed, “but I’m certain it’s nothing you can’t overcome?”

          “Fifteen words to tell me to simply spar anyway, Kenobi,” Maul sniffed, eyeing him. “And yet you call me verbose~”

          Obi-Wan gave a regal shrug before pulling his saber from his belt, twirling it into his favored Soresu, and Maul could see the initial twirl had allowed him to readjust the power on it. It would scald, but not kill.

          Maul hummed, “A moment.”

          Obi-Wan gestured for it, remaining in his ready stance.

          Maul smiled.

          And then twirled the pike, his eyes closed, feeling the weapon, feeling the way it wanted to rest on him, learning where it pressed against his limbs, feeling the brief flashes of heat as it grew too close and adjusting it with the slightest of movements. Familiarity bloomed, and when he finally knew where it would fall, when he knew that he would not hurt himself as well as his enemy, he fell into his own opening stance, pointed at Kenobi, checking the balance to make sure, and casually readjusted the power in his own.

          It was truly only sporting.

          “Very flashy,” Obi-Wan hummed. “But have you ever fought anyone with an actual saber?”

          Maul grinned, baring all of his teeth, and let the low hum of his Force presence darken and darken, and BURN. “No,” he answered, almost purring, “and so I thank you for the opportunity, Kenobi~”

          Maul was aware of the others that were coming in, could see the way Tiq had gone to join Plo at the far end of the room, could see the Nightbrothers as they sat on either side of his brothers, and could see the utter curiosity burning in Ahsoka and Anakin.

          “You know I live to serve,” Obi-Wan said, flicking his saber, and finally, Maul flicked his saber into a guard, and launched himself forward – the pike leading.

          Obi-Wan pulled back, knocking the pike blade up into the air with his saber, only for Maul to catch it and spin it back, sending the butt of the weapon towards his chin. Obi-Wan leaned back, flicked his saber across and sent it to the side, and Maul pulled back, spinning it around with a flourish and as Obi-Wan went to block he twisted the mechanism that kept it solid and instead granted it added flexibility, the interlocking parts gaining just enough gap to grant just enough wiggle without threatening structural collapse, and best yet would allow it to still weather any need to block.

          It was one of the Armourer’s proudest achievements.

          “Oh, that’s not good…” Obi-Wan managed when Maul lowered it to eye-level, a grin on his face.

          “It might be smart to run~?”

          “Might,” Obi-Wan agreed, and then launched himself forward.

          Maul laughed aloud as he brought the butt of the weapon once again into play, forcing Obi-Wan back, and following up with a low sweep that threatened his ankles, the Jedi leaping up and still back. And then Maul twisted the weapon around so the pike was threatening and humming, allowed Obi-Wan the moment to realize it was pointing directly between his eyes, and then began a series of short sharp stabs towards him, always pressing forward, always at different angles, that added flexibility giving the pike an almost unpredictable amount of devastation.

          It was hard to tell where it was aiming, and as Obi-Wan narrowed his eyes and began working on blocking and parrying, Maul grinned wider and wider.

          Maul twisted the mechanism to solidify it, spinning around with the butt of the weapon and managing a direct hit to Obi-Wan’s shoulder, causing him to stumble back, and as Maul swung the pike back around Obi-Wan launched himself forward. Maul grinned and rolled backwards, gaining distance. Obi-Wan spun his saber around, working on attacking while Maul’s focus was on retreating, and Maul finally launched himself up in the air, the lightsaber pike deactivating as he landed to balance upon it, a grin splitting his face.

          Obi-Wan blinked up at him.

          Maul took a breath, and with an internal laugh, channeled the Force in a scream of power that took the form of a single solitary word –

          “KENNOOOOOBIIIIII!!!!!!”

          “Oh, that’s not good,” Obi-Wan managed and he turned on his heel and ran.

          Maul twisted the mechanism, launched himself forward with his weapon rattling a terrible facsimile of a death rattle, and Obi-Wan managed a single hard block, but the pike went back around, hit the Jedi’s hand, and sent the lightsaber flying, that pike swinging back once again to point directly at the Jedi’s neck, that mechanism twisted yet again to stabilize it. There was no true point in burning him.

          “Well,” Obi-Wan managed. “That was…frightening.”

          Maul tilted his head. “Yield?”

          “Now,” Obi-Wan paused. “I could…” Maul leapt up and spun over the saber that had been aiming at his back, catching hold of the hilt with a boldness he never would have used if he had not known that it was still set low and therefore would not cut off his hand should he miss. As it was, it was a perfect catch, and Maul aimed the blue sword at its owner’s throat. “Oh, well, that was rather impressive. Yield, yes, I think that sounds like a good idea.”

          “Thank you.” He deactivated the saber and tossed it towards its owner, Obi-Wan catching it and hilting it. Maul deactivated his own pike, grinning. When Obi-Wan went in for a hug Maul initially blinked, feeling it close around him with a momentary start, before allowing himself to hug back.

          “Don’t ever yell my name like that again.”

          Maul laughed aloud and tightened his grip, hitting his back hard once. “I’ll consider it.”

          Obi-Wan pulled back and rolled his eyes at him, laughing himself. But it was good. Maul had needed something like this.

          “Well done,” a voice said that Maul had not been expecting, and he turned to find the one who had made the weapon standing there, as well as a medley of Death Watch that also included Soln. The Armourer approached, and Maul hesitated before approaching as well and holding out the weapon. She took it from him, held it in her hands, and then looked to him, her helmet cocked slightly as she took him in. “You did not grow in the way that I expected.”

          “I don’t know that it was expected by anyone,” Obi-Wan said, taking a step forward. “Hello, are you the one that made that weapon?”

          “I am,” she returned, “I am the Armourer. You fight well…for a Jedi.”

          “I will of course take that as the highest compliment,” Obi-Wan smiled. The Armourer tilted her head to him in a gesture of amusement, and Maul knew that he had managed to get in her good graces.

          “I will reforge your armor and the saber,” she said to Maul. “You will have need of them soon.”

          “Thank you,” Maul said, putting his fist over his chest and offering her a low bow. She returned it with a dip of her head and walked away, Soln approaching. “What brings you here?”

          “We were told you have a problem with some Mandalorians,” he grinned. “We are here to help reclaim them.”

          “Ah,” Maul said. “Fill me in.”

_

          Maul stood on the deck of a ship, staring out over the waters of Kamino.

          Maul had listened while Soln had spoken, listened as the Jedi filled further gaps. But as they spoke, Maul had remembered.

          Darth Sidious had never told him the entirety of the plan, but there were echoes, things that Maul remembered. A plot to destroy the Jedi. A plot to use the Senate they loved so much against them. It had made Maul want to laugh.

          There was a brilliance within it that was frightening, not the least because a part of Maul could admit that he admired it. It was a brilliant plan.

          His Master had always been brilliant.

          But now Maul stood overlooking what was meant to be his Master’s crowning achievement, and the knowledge that it would never be used against the Jedi… It would never be used against his family, or the Galaxy that they loved.

          Maul wondered if they realized how much they loved it. He wondered if this would have been what made them realize it just as it was stripped from them.

          The Separatists had been weeded out, cut from Dooku they had fizzled, and ultimately there was nothing to unite them. There was to be no war…

          And so, an army that had been created needed to be dissolved.

          And millions of men needed to be helped to find purpose beyond a war that would never happen.

          The Jedi’s entire Mind Healer force had been pulled from all corners, after they had managed to find replacements, of course, and were currently being debriefed by Tiq. Maul himself had helped in some of the debriefing.

          Yoda was currently on Kamino and had been making observations, talking to the Clones that were there. The knowledge that they were dealing with men that in some ways were a bit like Maul had been.

          Men fashioned into Weapons.

          Beings that had no concept of themselves as anything but tools of destruction.

          Maul was not sure if he was ready to see them. What Maul had not expected was for the way the Brothers understood. And not just Feral and Savage, but also Venom, Spite, Grudge, and Wrath. Yet…in a way he supposed he should have.

          What were they for?

          What were they for…

          But in the end they stood with him, and their presence was a balm in a way Maul did not know how to reach for. They often included him regardless, and he had learned slowly of the ways that a Brother asked for another’s presence.

          Tiq had also been with them, a constant presence, talking, gentle, as well as a consistent reminder that they did not have to see them yet. Maul could take his time. They all could. They would do what needed to be done.

          Tiq had laughed just about as hard as Maul when the Nightbrothers had looked at him.

          “Always remember you can take a step back,” Tiq had said, and they had promised to remember.

          He knew they intended to keep that promise.

          But for now, Maul was going to see what could be done.

          They came in for a landing, and Maul continued watching.

          As the rest disembarked Maul waited.

          He was unsurprised when the Armourer finally found him, and he turned to her.

          “It is finished,” she said. “The second iteration of my greatest creation. You will wield it well.”

          “I will,” Maul agreed, and followed her to where his armor waited.

          He took the pike in hand and finally left himself, clad in the armor of the Mandalorians that had been his own. Influenced by the aesthetics of the Sith. Influenced by his own.

          Maul kept his distance, his presence small, unnoticeable as he walked amongst them, and watched. His Brothers had approached, had walked to them with an intimate knowledge that Maul could not quite match. His own childhood had been spent in loneliness, in solitude, his own training wrapped around the fact that there was only himself… And the reflection he saw in glass. And the more that he saw the more he felt as though he was staring at an imitation, at a broken and shattered mirror that showed him so much of what had been…and ultimately what he no longer was.

          Maul stood in a transparisteel tunnel and stared out at a sea of men that moved in unison, trained in unison, that awkwardly attempted to talk to the Jedi that had spread amongst them, that had no idea how to integrate with them, even as he could see the way they longed to…

          The Mandalorians had spread, the splinter of Death Watch that Maul had stumbled upon when destroying the mines of Zygerria…and those were the ones that were ultimately the most gravitated to. Outside of course, of the Brothers…the Brothers that were gaining a following that was growing.

          Soln had been called for good reason and Maul wondered quietly whether or not this would be something they latched onto. Perhaps Death Watch would grow. Maybe they would finally be enough to destroy the group led by Pre Vizsla.

          Maul would not mind. From what he recalled Jango was considered a member of the True Mandalorians, but as Maul looked out at the men that clearly had no understanding of existence outside of battle…outside of fight…outside of being a weapon… He could not believe that Jango had remained a part of that faction.

          And the more he looked…the angrier Maul grew.

          There were children.

          More in pods waiting to be decanted.

          All of them had been meant for war.

          And a single man had agreed to it. A single man had seen fit to take these children, take these beings, and enslave them to war, and act as though they did not matter.

           Weapons.

          Maul was looking out at an army of weapons.

          It was something he recognized implicitly.

          Jango had been gone, a job he had been on taking him away, and it was during that time that they had begun their work, but Maul had little doubt that he would not be gone for long.

          Maul had avoided all Kaminoans, watching from above the way they interacted with the ones that had been under their care and known that he would be unable to keep the hate down.

          It was all too raw.

          Maul did not know what he would do.

          But Maul would find out.

          For now, he would watch, and as he watched Maul found himself so thankful for Tiq and his Group. Maul was so thankful for the Mandalorians he had found and their utter insistence that he come with them.

          It was strange to think that this had been the splinter faction that Meltch Krakko had belonged to.

          It was strange to think that he may have grown up amongst them if…

          But his Master had still been alive.

          It was likely that all Maul would have done would be invite death.

          Yet now…Maul’s Master was dead.

          Now…all of their chains were broken.

          It was simply a matter of getting them to see that.

          Maul took a breath and finally decided to move amongst them.

          His distance was no longer helping. Maul allowed his iron control of his presence slip, and began walking down to meet the rest of the men.

_

          Tiq was surrounded by an ocean of numbers.

          He was thankful for much, but the fact that numbers had always been easy for him to remember was in the top tier. It would be an awful thing to forget or to butcher when their batch numbers was literally all that these men had to their person. At least…until they either decided they wanted a name or decided that their number would fit for a name.

          Either one was acceptable, at this point it was closer to discovering another race than it was being amidst Clones of one man. If their naming practices involved a great deal of numbers then it deserved to be respected. And then Tiq’s attention was pulled to the Brothers, and he found himself smiling.

          “So…” one of the men was saying, CC-3636, if Tiq wasn’t mistaken, it was in the Aura – this one’s crackled, “you…you’re Venom, and you’re Feral, you’re Spite, and Wrath, and Grudge, and…you’re Savage?”

          “Yes,” Savage answered, grinning, “and he is Maul,” Savage nodded towards…

          Oh.

          Well.

          Tiq rather thought he understood how that could be terrifying.

          Maul had always been soundless, but to manage that with a suit of armor was a particularly intense sort of task. That black armor with its crown of horns that were so much larger than Maul’s own, the face that slowly came into view as he stopped before them and tilted his head slightly to look at them… And also offered a horn-lock, one that was immediately taken up by Feral, who hooked tight and grinned.

          “It’s not quite the same, they’re a good deal less…living, but I have to say I do like them,” Feral said, taking a step back and reaching up to touch the tips. “How many have you killed like this?”

          “Enough,” Maul answered and the grin in his voice was sharp.

          The Brothers laughed, a warm thing, amused, and there was a certain delight in the sound.

          Tiq felt the desire to roll his eyes, but there was no denying the way the men around them were reacting. There was a kinship there that they seemed to not have expected.

          And how could they have…but now that it was there, Tiq could see the beginnings of interest.

          “You can name yourselves things like that?” CC-1993 asked.

          “Why would you not be able to?” Venom asked. “Though admittedly most of us were named by our older Brothers.”

          “Oh, does that…does that mean you need to be blood to name another?”

          “Oh, apologies,” Venom said. “While it is true that we four are blood, and they are blood,” he indicated Maul and Savage and Feral, “Brothers is nonetheless what we call ourselves. We are Nightbrothers, even without Blood, we are connected in battle and in soul.”

          There was a slow building interest, and Tiq found himself smiling.

          This was an unlooked for, but certainly helpful line of familiarity.

          This was something that could be used to help.

          They had already started to shift from the way they stood together, the slow relaxing of shoulders, the movement to start to copy postures. They were also all very interested in the Brother’s tattoos. As they explained, the Brothers smiling as they indicated them and what they meant… The Mandalorians had also approached, and together they were pulling a crowd.

          There were younger ones approaching then, recently decanted, and the Brothers welcomed them with an ease that seemed to win the men over more…

          The sound of a ship passing by overhead drew Tiq’s attention, and he was aware then too of Maul.

          Maul who focused on the man that was coming in through the door dressed in full Mandalorian armor of his own, and as he approached, drew his pike, and then Maul’s voice cracked out, “Demagolka! Aruetyc hut’uun! Naast be ade! Aruetii ti aliit bal manda… Gar buir duraa.”

          Tiq felt his eyes widen. Well.

          That was one way to start a fight.

          Jango launched himself forward, a roar of anger and pain, and Maul met him. It was an almost wretchedly one sided fight.

          Jango was skilled, there was no doubt, and similarly no doubt that Mandalorians were warriors born… But so, too, were Nightbrothers.

          And Maul was not playing fair.

          Jango used whatever weapon he could think of, but if they ever threatened the crowd that was still watching a Jedi was able to send it back…but more importantly, Maul was willing always to use the Force, to rip Jango from his feet and throw him across the room, to send the flames that Jango sent at him back at his own face with a single palm raised up. And when Maul had finally tackled Jango to the ground, had finally knocked his helmet away and brought a single blade to his throat, that was when Maul finally tore off his own helmet and began to speak.

          “You call yourself a True Mandalorian, Jango?” Maul purred. “You call yourself someone your father would be proud of? Knowing that you call yourself a Mandalorian while you disobey the first basic tenant, while you allow yourself to become demagolka and destroy your manda and theirs? Why?”

          “They aren’t people,” Jango hissed. “They’re nothing…”

          The sound of a harsh and rasped gasp brought Tiq’s attention to a little boy, one that had… Oh.

          Tiq had heard of…

          “Filth,” Maul hissed. “Your vengeance has blinded you to everything…even the needs of the one you called son. Tell me, Jango? How can you possibly know that you are worthy of existence, worthy of love…when every single being bearing your face, bearing your soul is also worthy of extermination? How can you elevate one to a son, when you do not even see them as human?”

          And Jango was staring at his boy. Jango was staring at the child who had frozen, who stared into his eyes, “Boba…” Jango breathed, and that was when Boba turned and ran.

          Tiq kept track of the boy with the promise that he would check on him later. He had a feeling the boy needed time…

          Jango fought against Maul then, struggled to get out of his grip, but Maul was Zabrak. Maul had twice the muscle density and wound up pinning Jango on his front, that knife at his ear. “Stop,” Maul commanded softly. “Just stop. You have lost. You are just a man, Jango. You are just a man…”

          And Tiq could see the way the other men had straightened, could see… And he found a slow smile pulling at his mouth. And he understood what Maul had decided needed to be done.

          Maul had shown them that their tormentor was mortal. Maul had shown them that he could be beaten.

          And softly, quietly, “Jango…why would you attempt to get revenge on the people that only reacted to your orders? Why would you get revenge against them when you shot first and you know that by right their actions were just?”

          Jango said nothing.

          “Would you like to help us kill Pre Vizsla?”

          Jango blinked. “What?”

          “You killed Tor Vizsla, that much is true, but you have not killed all that remains of him. There have been others that have followed in his footsteps, have taken Death Watch in his image. Would you like to destroy them?” Maul asked. “Would you like to regain your honor? Would you like to avenge your father?”

          Jango paused, and then slowly looked up at him. “But Death Watch…?”

          Soln laughed quietly and stepped forward, crouching down alongside him. “We are Death Watch. Or rather…Death Watch as it should have been. Before Tor twisted us. Pre Vizsla has further corrupted what we stood for. Destroyed the honor that it once possessed, stripped the non-humans from its ranks, and has the gall to call himself Mandalorian by the rule of a sword he did not win. His father may have won it. It may run in his family…but it was not won by him.”

          “We are going to kill him and destroy the rest,” Maul said pleasantly, “and we are offering you the opportunity to make up for what you have done. There will be no war, Jango. The Jedi will not fall. But you can still have your revenge. A more…ultimate revenge.”

          Jango paused, and then tapped the floor twice. Maul let him up.

          “Who are you?” Jango asked softly, looking to him.

          “I am Maul,” he answered. “If you continue to test me you may find out why.” Maul grinned with all of his teeth, and Tiq heard the soft ripple of laughter that spread, the shock slowly dissipating.

          And then Maul stalked away, leaving Jango with Soln, who put his arm on Jango’s shoulder and also led him away.

          Tiq left to find Boba…and eventually found him with Maul.

          Tiq listened for a moment, took in the soft words, and gave the slightest of nods.

          For now…for now Boba would be alright. Upon turning, Tiq found a blond-haired man standing, and as he saluted Tiq smiled, “he’s just ahead. Maul is with him.”

          “Thank you,” he said. “I…thank you.”

          “There is no need,” Tiq said. “We are happy to bring you to freedom. It will be a hard road, but it is one you can learn to walk.”

          The man nodded stiffly, and looked beyond him, “can I…can I talk to them?”

          “Of course,” Tiq said softly, “I dare say Maul would even welcome your presence, and whatever help you can give…”

          “He’s still…” the man paused, and then softly, “he’s still my brother.”

          “He is,” Tiq agreed, “go.”

          “Thank you.”

          He slipped away and Tiq wished briefly that he had remembered to ask for what the man’s number was. Tiq hoped that he would be able to help Boba.  

          Tiq entered the main room once again to find the men buzzing. There was an energy and a spark in the air that had not been there before. He also saw more than just the one man going to find Maul.

          Tiq could not help but grin.

          Seemed Maul had broken more chains than he was perhaps expecting, and in its placed…forged a few rings. Perhaps more than a few.

          It was a good thing.

_

          Maul sat quietly, kneeling in the dark. The Armourer sat before him, her hands on her knees, silent.

          It felt like ages since the last time he had done this. A lifetime ago, and in a way it was. His Brothers were free…

          Maul had done it.

          All of the work…all of the sacrifices, all Maul had done… They had done it. The Brothers were free. And now they had freed the Vode. The Vode who had been fed the Liquor of the Sands, had come to their own freedom with their help, the Brothers standing as ally and friend, and slowly integrating.

          They had taken names, tattoos, and shared similarly Mandalorian customs, as well as their own culture that they had assembled in the hell of Kamino.

          Maul was proud, and he knew that he was not the only one, the Jedi a constant presence that had worked so hard… And then there was Shmi. Shmi and her family of White Suns. They had worked to be someone to gravitate to when the Brothers or the Vode felt lost. The Galaxy was big, and they were many, but they were relatively young in the Galaxy. There was so much to learn.

          But the Senate had been a big help as well, Padmé and Bail leading the work to allow them citizenship, to allow the Vode and the Brothers into the Republic.

          Bail had been promoted as Chancellor.

          Maul had voted for Padmé.

          Maul had almost forgiven Bail for winning.

          It had been over a year of constant work, of shaping the Galaxy around them, of learning their place and spreading out.

          But now they had come back.

          They had one last order of business.

          Death Watch needed to be unified.

          The Mandalorians must rebuild.

          And so, the Armourer had come to him…and Maul had no idea why.

           “Why…have you asked me here?” Maul asked.

          “We are going to kill Pre Vizsla,” the Armourer responded.

          “Of course, you are,” Maul said. “That has been a goal of Death Watch since I freed you from bondage…but what does this have to do with me?”

          “Vizsla has the Darksaber,” the Armourer answered. “He has the power to unify the masses under that banner which means whoever kills him has won it. They have won Mandalore.”

          “Mandalore is ruled by a Duchess,” Maul returned. “A Duchess that does not share in the beliefs of those that follow the Saber.”

          “But for those that do, they are the only ones fit to rule,” the Armourer returned. “And it is possible that these ones may…overthrow others…”

          “You wish to oppose Duchess Satine?” Maul asked, raising an eyebrow. “An interesting proposal. What do you plan to do when she asks the Jedi for aid? Would you turn against them?”

          “We do not need to directly oppose her,” the Armourer denied. “We Watch for Death, Maul, but that does not mean we are always the cause of it. I do not know that we would have to oppose her in direct confrontation, but there are those that may seek the Saber.”

          “Then you must think well of who you wish to wield it,” Maul answered. “The battle is to keep your head as well as the Saber, I would expect.”

          “It is,” she said. “Which is why I am asking you to fight for it.”

          Maul blinked.

          “What?”

          “Maul,” she said, and her voice was more patient than he expected she wanted it to be. “You are Sith, but you are also ours. You are Death Watch. You have more right to the saber than some could even dream, and you are also one of the most powerful beings in the Galaxy. But you are also loved by many. If you took the saber there may be some that might wish to challenge you…but they would have to get through many others to do so.”

          “And who, precisely,” Maul began, contempt lacing his voice, a skeptical hiss, “would fight for me?””

          Maul whirled to face the crash behind him, startled to find not just… It was not just Death Watch that had come. It was the Vode…it was the Brothers…as well as his brothers. Feral and Savage stood there, grinning.

          “We would have you as Mand’alor…”

          And it was Soln that spoke, Soln that stepped forward, the one that had been leading Death Watch since Maul had freed it.

          Maul stood slowly, turning to face them, to look at them all…

          And blinked at the presence of Jango.

           Jango stood staring off into the distance, his arms crossed over his chest, defiance in his posture…but as Maul approached he straightened, meeting his gaze evenly.

          Jango had been talking to Tiq, Maul was aware, but the complexities eluded him. In a way, Maul had not cared. He knew that Boba was safe, was with someone who loved him for his own sake and that had been enough.

          It was one of the reasons Maul had not gone through with his proposal to Padmé to take Bail out, the knowledge that Boba had been given to Bail and Breha and was doing very well. Much better than Maul believed he had ever been with a father that had seen him more of an experiment to how he would have turned out. A child that was not loved for their own sake was rarely a happy child, and Boba had deserved better…just as the rest of the vode had.

          But now here Jango was, and the realization of what it meant…

          “You would have me for Mand’alor,” Maul said, staring at him.

          Jango said nothing for a moment. “Yes,” he said finally. “I would see you as Mand’alor. We have too long been divided…and I know that you have united more than just Death Watch to your name. The Armourer is right…you are the right choice.” Jango paused. “You also saw to it that Boba…that Boba was taken care of. I know you were one of the first to help him, and I…” he paused. “I am grateful.”

          Maul was quiet for a moment. “Have you asked for visitation rights?”

          “I do not know that Boba would want to see me,” Jango returned.

          “Try,” Maul said. “I will vouch for you.”

          “Why?”

          “Because that is the first I have heard that you actively considered Boba for his own sake. Because I can see that you miss him.”

          Jango said nothing.

          But Maul could see the slight smile on his face…and he could feel the contented excitement in his aura.

          It was a step…and it was a very good one.

          But now Maul still had the choice. Now Maul had to stand with the weight of the fact that they had asked him to rule.

          “I had planned…on rebuilding the Sith,” Maul said. “I joined your Death Watch in honor of a father I lost. I follow your tenants, but at the core of me I am Sith.”

          “The Mandalorians and the Sith have worked together before,” the Armourer said.

          “And the Sith need a people and protection while you are growing,” Soln said, stepping forward. “You need not split yourself in two. And you do not need to rule without help.”

          Maul took this in for a moment. “You want me as a figurehead.”

          The laugh was soft, and Soln put his arm around him, “This is not about use, Maul. We do not wish to use you. We wish to help you. Advise you. You would not be a puppet without power. I don’t know that we could do that to you to begin with.”

          “You could not,” Maul said. “I would not take it well.”

          “Thought not,” Soln grinned.

          Maul took in the offer, looked at the ones standing there, the Brothers he had thought to invite, to try… And thought of what it would mean. He would be giving a true unification to his people and the Vode, given the opportunity to unify Death Watch with a people that still needed a home, to create a world where they were home.

          And he would not have to do it alone.

          “Very well,” Maul said softly. “I shall be your Mand’alor.”

_

          “Jango.”

          The call of his name was enough to bring Jango’s attention back, finding Maul standing there.

          The Zabrak had changed into his armor, outside of the helmet which he was resting on his hip, the horns that covered his own, weapons in themselves, but he knew it was not all the Nightbrother had.

          “Maul,” he returned easily, as Maul stepped up next to him. “What is it?”

          “Will you be my Second?” Maul asked, turning to meet his gaze.

          Jango blinked. It was an unexpected question. Jango had initially thought that Maul would have gone with Soln, or perhaps one of his own brothers. There were many that would have jumped at the chance to watch Maul’s back…and yet he had gone to Jango.

          “Why?”

          Maul sighed. “I have no ulterior motive, Jango,” he said. “I merely asked you ages ago if you would like to be the one to claim revenge. I intend to give it to you, and while you cannot be the one to kill him…I would nonetheless trust you with my back.”

          Jango took that in for a moment, staring at a man who he realized was giving him the opportunity for everything that he had wanted…that was doing his best to give him what was promised. Jango didn’t even mind that it was late, it had needed to be. There had been so much that had needed to be done. So much that had needed to be done to fix Jango’s mistakes.

          “I will be your second,” Jango said. “I will watch your back. Though you must promise that this fight is fair. You cannot use that darjetii osik, Maul. If you fight him in a way that he cannot match then you will lose – not just honor but face. They will challenge you.”

          “You don’t have to worry about that, Jango,” Maul said. “I intend to fight him fair. I have no doubts in my ability to kill him without the Force.”

          “So, you’ll give him what you didn’t give me?” Jango asked, the slightest of smiles on his mouth.

          Maul eyed him like he had said something incredibly stupid.

          “It was not about fighting you fair,” Maul said, “it was about proving that you could be beaten. That you were not the most powerful thing that those men had ever seen…and you were more mortal and breakable than they thought. It was about showing you were a man, Jango, and not some monster that was unbeatable.” Maul paused. “That’s my job.”

          Jango laughed aloud, unable to help it, taking in the flashing fangs in the other man’s smile, the slit of his eyes and grinning, even as he felt that twist in his chest. “I don’t know that it worked. They love you, and I am grateful for it. You were right to do it,” Jango said finally. “And you were right to challenge me. I did abandon everything. I did allow my need for revenge to destroy my principles… I did…shame my father.”

          “Grief does strange things,” Maul said, staring out at the starscape, his gaze distant, and it brought his profile into sharper view.

          Jango looked at him, taking him in in a way he had not before…and found that he was young.

          “How old are you?” Jango asked.

          “Twenty-six,” Maul said without hesitation, apparently without thought, “I had thought twenty-seven, but I was informed that our gambling with my age had proven incorrect.”

          Jango stared at him. “You do not want to be the Mand’alor,” he said softly.

          “I am willing,” Maul said. “There is much that I can do with that position that I have wanted to do.” He paused. “But no. No. I do not know how well I will lead these people… You claim that there are those that would advise me, but I am…” Maul spread his hands. “No one has claimed their position. I do not know if they are waiting for me to prove victorious…”

          “I would,” Jango said, looking at him. “I have not…I do not have a good track record when it comes to my decisions. If I had not chosen to shoot first…if I had merely attempted to talk to the Jedi then it is possible…” Jango said nothing for a long moment. “Healer Tiq would be proud of me. I don’t know that I have said that without growing angry before…without trying to deny it…”

          “Healer Tiq is frequently proud of all of us, I believe,” Maul said softly.

          “I was young,” Jango said. “I recognize that now.”

          “I am young,” Maul returned.

          “You are. And a better man than I was.”

          Maul laughed, bitter, almost scoffing. “I have been given opportunities and I have played them,” he said softly.

          “We all deal the hand that we are dealt,” Jango agreed. “I am older now. And wiser…if you would seek what I have…”

          “I would take it,” Maul said. “I would also…so long as it was not a challenge for the Darksaber…be willing to indulge you in a fair spar?”

          Jango grinned and clapped the man on his shoulder. “I would be honored. And do not worry, Mand’alor. I know where my loyalties lie. Now tell me, how do you intend to counter the saber? Your pike may be considered an unfair advantage, as would your double-bladed weapon.”

          “Do not worry,” Maul said. He paused then. “Would you like to meet the man who originally offered to be my Second?”

          “You turned him down?” Jango asked.

          “I made a promise,” Maul said with a slight shrug. “I intended to keep it. I agreed to accept his weapon, though. He was willing to agree to that.”

          “Oh?” Jango asked, following Maul as he headed out into the ship. Jango walked beside him, watching the man in his peripheral vision as he greeted the people he passed with a nod, or a gesture.

          “Yes,” Maul said finally, looking to him out of the corner of his eye. “He was my Teacher. I attempted to be a Jedi for a time.”

          “Did you,” Jango said softly, a brow rising.

     ��    “Didn’t take,” Maul said, a smile pulling at his mouth. “I am too angry.”

          Jango laughed, surprised.

          He paused for a moment and then briefly, quietly, “You were wrong, though.”

          “About?” Maul asked.

          “I always did love my son. But it was in that one instant that I…” Jango paused. “You made me recognize that I had been hurting him. In a way that I…” he trailed off. “I wanted to thank you for that. And for…for following up and fighting to allow me visitation. He is happy.”

          Maul was quiet for a moment.

          “I am sorry, Jango,” Maul said. “I did not want to keep you from your son forever.”

          “I know.” Jango paused. “They do not think that it has to be forever. But there is much I have done without…knowing.”

          “It is hard,” Maul said.

          “It is.”

          And then they finally turned the corner into a meditation room…and there sat a tall dark-skinned man, his eyes closed, meditating silently. It was a Jedi, which he had suspected, but one with a sterner expression and heavier countenance than Jango had anticipated.

          “Teacher,” Maul said, and the man looked up, and Jango watched as his expression softened.

          The man stood smoothly, approaching, and his attention turned to Jango.

          “This is Jango Fett,” Maul said. “Jango Fett, this is Mace Windu. He was my Teacher, as I said.” Jango inclined his head to the other man, something that was returned. “He is the one that I have promised as my Second. He has agreed.”

          Mace Windu took that in for a moment and then nodded, looking to Jango directly. Brown eyes met his and their gaze was fixed and stern. “Take care of him.”

          “You have my word,” Jango said, putting a hand to his chest. He knew a worried buir when he saw one. Jango understood. “I plan to see to it that he only has to focus on the fight before him.”

          “Good,” Mace said, and his expression pulled into a smile, “thank you.” He paused and then turned to Maul. “Would you like to take it now or later?”

          “When are you comfortable parting with it?” Maul asked.

          “I am comfortable with you growing familiar with it,” Mace returned.

          “Then I shall take it now,” Maul said, and Jango watched as Mace pulled the lightsaber from his belt and held it out to Maul.

          Maul took it carefully before igniting the blade, and purple streamed out.

          It was a beautiful weapon.

          Jango nodded.

          “That’ll do.”

          “Indeed,” Maul said softly.

_

          Feral stood alongside his twin, Savage framing his other side, and Jango at Maul’s back.

          Feral understood why he could not be Maul’s Second, and even understood why Jango was the one that they had chosen, but it nonetheless rankled. Jango had inclined his head politely towards the two Brothers when he had seen them, and Feral had returned the gesture. But ultimately, Feral wanted to be with his brother.

          Feral was so proud, and so utterly amazed that he sometimes did not know how to handle it.

          It was strange to think that this was the same brother that he had gotten to know. It was strange to think that this was the same brother that would hide with him from younglings by lying atop pillars, would tease them with limbs just out of reach to allow them to try and catch… The same brother that would similarly use those pillars to hide from Obi-Wan and have Feral inform him that he would not be talking to him.

          Feral had learned so much about his brother, Savage often joining them when he was able, which was not as much as he would like.

          Savage had agreed to help Viscous. He was the spokesperson for the Nightbrother Diaspora that were still attempting to settle and so was often busy, but they always were together when they could be.

          Maul had spoken of the possibility of making this more common, of the opportunity to unite their peoples with the Vode, and the Mandalorian splinter group that was still in existence and had been growing.

          Feral did not understand much of Mandalorian politics… He understood that there was technically a Duchess, one that Maul seemed to hold in some manner of…not perhaps contempt, Feral had seen his brother hold people in contempt before and she did not hold the same level of ire, but certainly a level of annoyance. But they were not attempting to retake the whole of Mandalore. Not yet, as Maul had put it with a very intent look at Obi-Wan which the Jedi had pretended to ignore.

          The Duchess had apparently called Maul after that, and Maul had simply hung up on her.

          Repeatedly.

          Feral had been unable to stop laughing.

          But from what Feral did understand, Maul had no intention of going after the Mandalorians that were upon the planet, and instead was perfectly willing to leave them be… But he was planning on reuniting the factions that were under another man.

          A man that Maul had to kill. A man that Maul needed to take a saber from.

          Feral could understand that.

          Symbolic weapons that held the power to unite the peoples underneath them was not an unknown concept to Nightbrothers, though theirs had all been lost to them. As it was, Feral walked next to his brothers, and knew that he would kill to keep them together.

          Feral walked next to his brothers and thought of a small boy that had stood in their midst and the man that he had turned out to be. Feral was proud.

          And more than a little amazed.

          Feral knew it was not all his brother.

          Feral knew that the Jedi had helped the Vode, and similarly he knew that the Vode had latched onto the Nightbrothers, and he also knew that the Death Watch had been what had helped free the Brothers, and similarly so had White Sun which had been so instrumental in not only showing the Brothers that not all women wished to enslave or hurt them, but also that there was more out there. There was a constantly reaching hand that had been extended towards each of them…

          But Feral could not forget Maul in that Holocron as he spoke of not knowing if he would ever come back.

          Feral could not forget the little boy that had loved.

          Maul looked to him briefly and Feral smiled.

          “You ready to be the Maul’dalor?” Feral asked, his smile given teeth.

          Jango laughed, even as Maul rolled his eyes.

          “We should start calling it that,” Jango said, laughter in his voice. “Mandalore is still under the rule of the Duchess, and supposing you don’t mean to take over…”

          “Obi-Wan is not here, is he?” Maul asked, looking around unnecessarily.

          “He is not,” Savage answered, laughter in his voice and in the slight curve of his mouth. “As you very well know. You forbade him from coming, and as you are about to be Mauld’dalor…”

          “That is even worse than calling me Mand’alor,” Maul said.

          “Very well, Mand’alor,” Jango said immediately.

          Feral and Savage both roared with laughter, Maul turning to stare at Jango, the man smiling at him without fear or worry.

          Maul rolled his eyes once more and continued walking.

          “I do not have an interest in actively opposing or hurting the Duchess Satine because she is…well. I do not know if she considers me a friend…”

          “You have probably seen to it that she does not,” Feral laughed.

          “But I do enjoy her company,” Maul said, talking over him. “And I do not wish her harm. She is an idiot. Her ideals on pacifism are not only misplaced they are extreme, but I believe they are reactionary to what the Mandalorian people had become. And I do respect her ability to stand by those ideals even if I do think that given enough pressure she would break her own people before she allowed them to break.”

          “You have thought about this a good deal,” Jango said briefly.

          “I have,” Maul answered. “I have also decided the possibility of stealing her citizens right underneath her nose by simply being a better ruler of her people would be more entertaining than any attempts I make to actually dispose of her.”

          Savage laughed. “It likely would be,” he agreed.

          Jango looked at his comm briefly, giving a soft sound. “They’re in position. We can seek an audience with Vizsla whenever you feel up for it.”

          Maul paused at that.

          “I am hesitating aren’t I?” he asked.

          “You have made us walk around the perimeter…four times now,” Savage pointed out.

          “I was waiting for them to get set up,” Maul said. He paused. “Can I do this?”

          “Take Vizsla’s head off?” Jango asked. “Undoubtedly. Rule an entire people?” Jango paused, “your Brothers are loyal. The Vode adores you. Death Watch…” he trailed off. “It is funny to me…that I have joined with someone who is seeking to rebuild what killed us.”

          “We were thrown out before you even entered the picture,” Maul said. Then paused. “Fuck.”

          Jango laughed. “You’re claiming it. You have recognized its history. You know its tenants. You are willing to follow.”

          “I have. I do. I will.”

          “You care.”

          “I do.”

          “I think that will make you a great leader,” Savage said.

          “I think they would kill for you,” Feral said. “And they will not be the only ones.”

          “More importantly…” Jango said, and his voice was low, and it was hard, “I think they would die for you.”

          Maul made a soft sound at that.

          “Are you ready?”

          Maul closed his eyes, for a moment breathing deep and allowing himself to center, Feral feeling the tension in the bond that connected him to his Brother, the uncertainty. Feral brushed up against it, and Maul grabbed hold, Feral gripping tight to his brother’s aura and feeding him slowly with feelings of certainty, of loyalty, of love.

          Feral had no doubt that Maul could do this.

          Maul’s hold tightened briefly, warming Feral with feelings of acceptance, of gratefulness…

          And then Maul slowly let go, breathing out.

          “Very well,” Maul said. “Tell them we are going to enter the compound.”

          Jango sent the message across, and Maul led them into the mines.

          Pre Vizsla was waiting.

_

          Pre Vizsla hung up the comm, his head bowed.

          Talking to Satine was exhausting. He stood before her as her chosen Governor when for years…for years all Pre had wanted to do was claim her spot. All he had wanted to do was rule Mandalore, to return it to the Glory. All his life Pre had heard of the battles of his Ancestors. The sword that he carried a legacy to a people that had been. To his family and what they had created.

          Pre had looked back upon his line of greater men and found himself small in a way that he could not stand.

          He was standing upon their shoulders…but there was nowhere he could reach.

          Pre had joined with the Count, made attempts to broaden his resources, to reclaim Mandalore…

          And yet here he stood, and the Separatists had fallen to pieces.

          The Count had been imprisoned.

          Grievous was even gaining therapy the last he had heard, which he would never have believed.

          There was nothing left. All that was there was him…and Bo-Katan, and the remains of a force that they had created.

          The problem was, Pre had no plan.

          Pre could no longer operate in the shadows. There was no way to show that Satine’s leadership had holes. There was no way for him to take over in a way that would lead to the people trusting him.

          There would be no war…there would be nothing that he could use to conceal his efforts.

          They would have to start again.

          Pre wondered idly whether or not it was even worth doing. Dooku had been captured, surely…surely at some point he would tell them of Death Watch.

          Surely Pre’s life would be forfeit as would the rest of them. He had no doubt that Dooku would attempt a plea bargain, and it would be everyone else’s neck but his. It was infuriating.

          Pre had no desire to spend his last years in a cell. Pre hated idleness and he hated the idea of wasting away more than anything.

          His ancestors had been proud warriors, ones that had even stolen from the Jedi themselves, and now here he stood…

          Here he stood.

          In an old mining catacomb in a moon that had almost been destroyed… Governor of a people of warriors that could not fight.

          Pre wished for many things.

          An honorable death was one of them.

          Pre looked over as Bo-Katan approached, taking in the woman as she nodded to the members of the Watch she passed, her gaze nonetheless fixed on his. Pre did not know what to tell her. She had abandoned everything, family her home, her sister in order to be with the Watch, had carved out the Nite Owls. Her dreams had been the same, to see The Mandalorians returned to the warring peoples they were. To see their honor and glory restored…

          But what did they have left?

          Pre sighed, turning to face her as she finally came to a stop before him.

          “What did she say?” Bo asked.

          Pre thought back to the conversation, wondering what was actually useful, what Bo actually wanted. Sometimes he thought that she missed her sister. Sometimes he thought that she wanted for him to tell her that she had changed her opinions, that Death Watch should be reinstated. Pre wasn’t even all that sure he blamed her.

          Satine was still her sister.

          But at the same time, there was the way that she had said it. There was the annoyance in the tone, and Pre could never tell.

          “She spoke of Dooku,” Pre said. “About how he was going to be making a plea bargain. Mentioned Death Watch.” Pre paused before smiling. “She told me to be careful.”

          “Then it’s all over then,” Bo said softly. “Unless we run now…”

          “Where would we run?” Pre asked. “Would you have us go underground? Have us refuse to take off our helmets, go into a galaxy as common bounty hunters? Leave our names and selves behind?”

          “There has to be a way,” Bo said. “Maybe we create our own army. We have…”

          “What resources do we have?” Pre asked. “Who would we go to that are not villainous scum? How can we trust them to have our backs? What happens when they realize that Death Watch does not have the numbers to truly oppose them?” Pre sighed. “I cannot see a way out, Bo. Can you?”

          “There must be something,” Bo said. “Surely…my sister would offer clemency, we could…”

          “You wish to take an offer from your sister? Even if it would put us in the position to betray her later?”

          Bo said nothing.

          “I had thought not.”

          There was silence and Pre sighed, running his fingers through his hair.

          “Are we just going to give up then?” Bo asked. “That’s it? This…this is it?”

          Pre looked to her, spreading his hands. “What would you have me do? All of our power, all of our dealings we had in secrecy, but they were nonetheless underneath Satine’s nose. They were nonetheless done with a group that is now being prosecuted.”

          Bo drew herself up, angry…

          An explosion shook the camp, and Pre stood up, for a moment wondering whether or not Satine had figured it out and had sent for them… But this was Satine. She would never have resorted to violence.

          So, what…was this?

          The sounds continued, a fight, coming towards them, and then…

          The doors were blasted open. His troops poured in, retreating, sending bolts that…

          That froze…in mid-air… Hovering before them like some sort of deadly light show.

          They stopped firing, and the shots were sent away, sent back into the walls harmlessly.

          Pre could not believe what he was seeing. Three men entered first, one of them dressed as a Mandalorian all in black, and the two behind them were… They were Nightbrothers. The one in front was a Nightbrother, his horns tall, each of them walking forward with an air of utter confidence, a swagger that spoke of warriors born…

          And behind them came another man… A man that was repeated in the faces on the ones behind him, and… More Nightbrothers.

          And then someone that Pre remembered, someone he never thought he would see again.

          Soln.

          Soln Wor.

          Death Watch had been cleansed of the non-humans that had once inhabited it by his father. Soln was amongst the number, as were… And as Pre watched he realized what this was…

          And found his attention drawn once again to the Nightbrother at the front.

          Blood-red skin…eyes that glowed in the dark, and an expression that was almost…

          Bored.

          And then those eyes locked on Pre.

          And Pre remembered hearing of this being.

          Pre remembered the whispers of the one that was tearing apart Zygerria. Pre remembered the temporary fear of what would happen if those stripped from Death Watch came back. He remembered fearing what they may do…

          Pre looked into those eyes…

          And he saw his death.

          Pre watched as the force before him spread out… His gaze fell upon Jango Fett… Jango Fett…who was staring at him with a smirk on his face…

          And then the one who walked forward froze in the wide arena that they had used to challenge each other in, the arena that would be his death.

          “I am Maul,” he said, his voice a rich growl that rumbled low, and then a singular finger pointed towards Pre Vizsla, “and I challenge you – one warrior to another…for the right to wield the Darksaber. I challenge you for the right to rule Death Watch.”

          Pre looked back to the men and the women that had followed him, the ones that he did not know how to help… And stared at the one before him.

          Maul.

          Pre tilted his head.

          “So be it,” he said, and stepped forward into the ring.

          Pre knew that he would not be fighting fair. He had seen the way the Nightbrothers had used the Force. He also knew that the one that had to lead their people was one that had to be tricky, had to be quick, had to know that life would not play fair…

          And so, he stood before him and ignited the Darksaber.

          And then Maul ignited his own weapon, and purple came forth.

          The blade of a Jedi.

          But Pre did not think that this man was a Jedi.

          It was only as he attacked with the Darksaber, it was only as Maul met him on even footing…that he realized that Maul intended to kill him without the Force.

          Good.

          Maybe he would be able to give him a scar to remember.

          Pre attacked fiercely, attempting to put the man on the defensive, to get him to stumble back, but Maul was even with him, and indeed was more skilled. Pre could see the slightest of smiles on his face, and the realization that he was amusing him was almost more than he could take.

          The feeling of a boot in his face, sending him back caused him to pull a blaster, firing immediately and with every shot Maul deflected it, none of them were back towards Pre, but it was clear that Maul could block him. Pre launched himself forward with the saber once more, the jetpack boosting him forward.

          Maul caught the blade with his own, pushing him back, and Pre changed his angle, managing to elbow the man’s head…

          It was only as Maul reared backwards in surprise at the sudden blow that Pre could feel ringing through his bones that he realized he may have made a mistake.

          That same head that Pre realized was crowned in horns and was made for it bashed into his own heavily, Pre finding his vision going temporarily black, stumbling away, and he slashed with the saber instinctively, feeling it be caught, aiming another stroke, and then sending his wrist-mounted flamethrower directly towards him.

          Maul dropped below it, diving forward, sending Pre toppling, the flamethrower dying as it became too dangerous… Pre also realized his danger in grappling with a Zabrak.

          Pre could feel it, the strength in the limbs that sought to pin him, to keep him…

          Pre sent the blades mounted in his wrist straight-up, Maul forced to back away, fall back, and for a moment he saw blood…

          There was that scar…

          Pre rolled himself to his feet, and once again launched himself in the air, throwing bomb after bomb as Maul rolled…

          And then he launched himself up towards him, one of the first times that he actively utilized the Force, and it was to equalize their playing field. Pre felt the boots on his chest, felt the crunch as he hit the ground and rolled, pressing the button to release the death-trap from his back and kicking it towards Maul, who dove underneath it and came up with the saber yet again.

          Pre brought his own saber up, attacking and parrying, feeling the jar in his arms as the blows from someone so much stronger rained upon him. And all the while blood trickled down Maul’s face, trailing through the red of his tattoos.

          Pre knew that he was grinning.

          Pre kicked, feeling the impact of a boot on his own face even as he sent Maul backwards with his own. Maul stood first, Pre forcing himself upright, unable to let it happen like this.

          It would be on his feet, or it would not be…

          Pre shot his rope trap, catching Maul around the legs… Maul cut the rope off, and Pre shot the saber from his hand, charging forward, and the hope… There was a hope…

          Pre attacked and Maul caught hold of his sword arm, and Pre knew that was it.

          Maul bent his arm back, nearly breaking it across his own shoulder, Pre forced to let go.

          And that was the moment when Maul once again began attacking.

          Fists and feet and Pre could not keep up… Maul was a superior warrior.

          Maul sent him to his knees… And Pre could not…

          Pre forced himself to tackle the other man, to send him back, to go for his throat… Maul forced his way through Pre’s hands, smashing his horns against Pre’s forehead, and the black spots were back, and they were worse… Pre fell backwards, sent to the ground…

          Maul stood…and Pre heard the sound of the Darksaber…the knowledge that Maul had claimed it.

          Pre forced himself slowly to his feet and Maul waited, watching, the blood trickling down his face…

          “It is as you said…” Pre said roughly, feeling his legs tremble beneath him, staring into the face of his death. “Only the strongest shall rule.”

          And then nothing.

#star wars #star wars fanfiction #shmi skywalker #darth maul #maul #an unexpected chance #twin sons #jango fett #Captain Rex (in passing) #there's a lot of in-passing #Pre Vizsla dies #pre vizsla #mace windu #mandalorian oc #Anakin Skywalker #obi-wan kenobi #healer tiq #bo-katan kryze #savage opress #feral opress #gosh man i have been sitting on this forever and i'm sorry #i had planned on trying to finish this in one chapter #that was a lie i'm sorry LOL #i should hopefully finish it in the next one because i tell you what... #i wanted to be finished with this one LOL

[imabeautifulbutterfly]

Sins of the Father - Chapter 36

Summary: Din makes a decision about his future

A/N: Hello Lovelies,

I’m sorry for not posting last week, but it has been absolutely hectic since we came back to work from the winter break. 

I’m currently working on a request from AO3 for a continuation of It’s Over focusing on Hunter, I’m not sure if I’ve said it before, but if anyone would like to submit a request, please feel free to. It just might take some time for me to complete it. 

Anyways, enjoy this very Boba-Din centric chapter. 

FYI: Special treat below

Italics - Din’s thoughts

Italics and Indent - Flashback

Warnings: derogatory remarks regarding clones and Jango Fett, threats, I think that’s it, if I miss anything please let me know. 

AO3 Link |   Words: 4,695 |   Previous -> Next

Main Master List   |   Sins of the Father Master List

CHAPTER 36: THE NEGOTIATION

Din had been silent since he entered the room. Simply taking his seat across from Bo Katan staring at her without shifting or showing any indication it bothered him to see her again. He watched her every move from behind his visor, every flick of her eyes, the appearance of calmness and authority she liked to exude, just like before she seemed unmoved by seeing him once again. Yet in between the fringes of appearing calm, there was the subtle hint of irritation, either from the heat of Tatooine’s suns, the damp and coldness seeping in from Boba’s palace, or just the fact she had to sit there with him and Boba.

Time eased on between the three of them, none speaking as though it was a mere contest between Din and Bo, to see who could outlast the other. The only sounds filling the room was the creaking from their gloves, as they all clenched and unclenched their fingers, and the whirring from Boba’s droid assistant. 

Boba glanced between the two stubborn wugav (leaders/cheiftains), and as enjoyable and delicious as the palpable tension between the two had been, nothing would progress during her stay if they refused to speak.

“Well” Boba clapped his hands together gaining their attention and the slight surprise from his droid assistant at the loud noise, “as enjoyable as the silence has been between all of us.” Truly, after thirty minutes of unspoken tension, enough was enough, he had other things to contend with, namely making sure everything was going well on Kashyyyk. He was no stranger to how Czerka operated, and he wanted to be able to do more than sit here watching these two make an even bigger fool of themselves, “One of you needs to start speaking in order to progress these negotiations.”

“Negotiations?” Bo narrowed her eyes as she focused on Boba, scoffing at the term. She wasn’t there to negotiate. She was there to give a simple ultimatum, and frankly being on the disgusting hot and dry planet was more than she had bargained for. “There is no such thing as negotiations for something that is rightfully mine. Has been mine. Will always be mine. Not to mention …” she turned to look at Din, “I recall you were suppose to join our ranks to help us reclaim Mandalore?”

“If I recall correctly, that was suppose to be a request, not a demand.” Boba answered on Din’s behalf, “And now that’s he the Mand’alor, should he really be following what you have to tell him? Or that’s right you don’t have authority over him.”

“As I said before, some of us serve a higher purpose” Bo slowly turned her head back to Boba, narrowing her eyes at the man. 

He simply laughed to himself, “Yet, you never actually won the right to wield that authority. Have you?” Boba responded, his fingers tapping in front of him, Bo didn’t acknowledge his statement, nor did he expect her to, especially since he knew all about her history. He’d heard all the rumours while he was on Concord Dawn and seen proof of Death Watch’s destruction. The only reason he held back for now, was because Din may not have been aware of what that meant, but he was, “Am I wrong, Lady Kryze?”

“You certainly picked up quite a few annoying habits from your donor, didn’t you?” She tilted her head towards him. She had enough of clones, had enough of Jango Fett, looking at Boba’s face just irritated her even more. 

“Feeling mighty brave aren’t we?” His hand clenched against the table.

“Well I heard your guard dog was on holiday” the last thing Bo wanted to do was face that annoying woman she had met previously. What was her name again? Adar? Alar? Who cared?

“She’s not the only guard dog in this place” Fennec’s voice echoed throughout the room as she walked down the stairs as silent as a tooka, moving to stand beside Boba. She couldn’t stand Bo-Katan, though she respected her abilities to lead and to fight, she was definitely someone she had no desire to see again. 

He turned to look at Fenn, only reason she’d interrupt the meeting was because something urgent came up. 

Bo didn’t say anything in response, simply eyeing the assassin’s movements. Preparing herself in the eventuality of an ambush. Though her weapons were confiscated and stored before coming into the conference room, however unbeknownst to the others she still had two hidden vibroblades on her. 

Fennec leaned down, narrowing her eyes at the red-headed Mandalorian, whispering into Boba’s ear without losing eye contact, “Just heard from them, they arrived, things are worse than they imagined. Asks if you could come sooner rather than later.” He simply nodded, he didn’t need the ins and outs of the message, he could already guess it was from Mara, and if she was asking for assistance then things were rather dire. He cleared his throat, their pleasantries were clearly going nowhere, it was time to get down to business.

He simply nodded sending Fennec away, he cleared his throat drawing the attention of Din and Bo once again, “Let’s get to the point at hand, the reason you two are here. Kryze, let’s begin with you, why don’t you tell us what you want?”

“Simple” her eyes focused on the shiny armour in front of her, “You” she pointed to Din, “Come back to Mandalore and face me in a duel or take up the mantle as Mand’alor. Either way I need you to come back to Mandalore.”

Din listened as Bo laid out her terms, there were so many things he wanted to say, especially with her attitude towards Boba. He could already hear Oyar’e’s voice in his head.

‘You’re the Mand’alor, Din, you’re the one your people are waiting for. You know what it’s like to struggle, to live on the outskirts, to not be viewed as a Mandalorian. You know what it’s like not to have someone to count on. You’ll be able to understand your people better than most leaders, and because you understand that pain, you can be all those things for your people. They deserve a good man like you as their leader. Not that woman.’

Even in his own mind he couldn’t really argue against her, not that he wanted to, at least not for something they both agreed on, even if at times he still didn’t think he was the right person to be Mand’alor, one thing was for certain, Bo-Katan was definitely not the right person. In fact, he could almost see O’yare sitting there beside him, narrowing her eyes at Bo-Katan, mocking her in some way about wanting to be Mand’alor. 

“Why Mandalore?” He finally spoke, tapping his fore finger against the table in no particular pattern. She didn’t answer, simply a quizzical look on her face. “I mean if you’re so eager to prove you can take on the mantle, and be Mand’alor, why the song and dance of going back to Mandalore? Let’s just get to it, face me now.”

‘That’s it bare (dear), tell her where you stand. Be the Mand’alor, I know you to be’

Again she didn’t respond to his statement, “It seems to be me we should simply just get this over and done with,” though he knew Ara would have supported any decision he made, the longer he thought about, after everything she’d been through recently, the last thing he wanted to do was uproot her. He was genuine, when he told her he’d rather stay here with her, Adi and Grogu, to live out his life helping out where he could. 

‘Do you think I’m weak? I am able to handle more than enough.’  

Bo simply smirked at Din’s statements, both he and Boba were Mandalorians who hadn’t been taught anything with regards to customs or even how a true Mand’alor should behave, she wondered how much she could twist to her advantage. How much she could get him to give up, in order to have the power and authority she desired. 

“As much as I would love to beat you now, there are many things to consider with regards to the customs of becoming Mand’alor. Namely, our people deserve to see the rightful Mand’alor take their place; that can only be proven by winning the sword. In short, when I do beat you, I want it to be front and centre, in front of all my people. Leaving no room for doubt as to how the title was won and by whom.”

Din simply shook his head, as his visor focused back on her, “Is that truly the custom?” He glanced over to Boba, he seemed to not think much of what she said, he tapped his finger against the table again, Boba simply leaned back against his chair, nodding slowly. 

Bo didn’t answer simply letting out an exhausted sigh, at his lack of knowledge. 

He ignored her flippant and arrogant attitude, “If I understand correctly, rather than lose in private, you wanna do it in front of what …” he motioned with his hand, “… five people? After all the last time I saw you, you had what two people by your side?”

Boba stifled the laugh that wanted to erupt, simply biting his cheek instead, keeping a stoic countenance as much as possible. 

“You really think you’re worthy of being Mand’alor? To handle the responsibility or even what it truly means to lead Mandalorians? Remind me, how many are following you?” She motioned with her hand, “Let’s see …” she glanced around the room, “none.”

Din wanted to rebuff her statement, wanted to show her that she was wrong, but as he reflected, who could he say was following him. Was he meant to be the Mand’alor? He thought back to all those times he had wanted to get rid of the sword, and now here he was ready to battle for it, but yet no one to actually follow him. When did it all change? When he first arrived on Tatooine?

His mind flashed back to his first meeting with Boba.

“You should get use to not being able to see your desk, when you decide to take over your rightful place as Mand'alor, you’ll be buried in more than just paperwork, you’ll be buried in political and governmental issues too, and I shall have the last laugh.”

“I don’t want the throne, Boba”

“That much I know, but you have to think about what Mandalore would be like with someone like Bo-Katan as the leader. She may be a warrior, and the rightful heir, she may even be schooled in the way of politics, but there is a certain air of arrogance, of elitism coming from her. Would you think that such a ruler would be beneficial to reunite the clans?”

“I don’t care. I don’t want it.” 

“Maybe or maybe you don’t think you deserve it, as a Child of the Watch, as a foundling, or as a bounty hunter.  Maybe you feel you are unworthy. I’m a simple man, trying to make my way in the universe, but you, you are thrusted into greatness again and again, and are destined for more.”

Maybe it was when he learned how Boba’s people viewed him, when he first spoke to Aola. 

“Great Boba and Mistress Fennec are the best masters … masters is wrong, they are the best leaders to ever grace this place. They treat the servants, as workers, they make sure we all are treated with dignity and respect, not as slaves or playthings, the same way they treat the guards and bounty hunters. I would and will gladly die for either of them. A good ruler or leader, makes those under him feel elevated they feel dignified, safe, protected. Before Great Boba, many of the servants were harassed and abused, when he took power, Great Boba removed all the undesirables, he gave them one chance, they could either follow his rules or end up on a one-way trip to a sarlacc pit.”

“A great leader respects and understands the power behind those who follow him. For without them, he is a man talking to the wind”

“I think you would make a good leader, the people of Mandalore will be blessed by having you as their ruler.”

Yet, there were times when it felt as though the galaxy wanted to make sure he didn’t give up on himself, that’s how it felt, when Amara first told him he’d be a good leader. 

"Honestly, I think you would be a good ruler for Mandalore, if that is something you choose.  There are not enough leaders who understand the struggle their people face, it's what makes Boba such a good leader.”

He almost wanted to chuckle, when he thought about the time he accused Oyar’e as a drug dealer, only to have her reaffirm how she thought of him.

“You did what you thought was right, Roe, you were trying to save me, and not just me but Adi too.  How could I be mad at you for that, and on top of it you were so upset on Adi’s behalf.  That …that’s exactly why I know … why I know you’ll be an amazing Mand’alor”

If he was being honest it was probably at that moment when he fell in love with her. Yet, despite how much he thought about giving up, once again Amara showed him why he was the perfect Mand’alor even if it scared her. 

“You really want me to be the Mand’alor, don’t you Ara?”

“No … not at all”

“You don’t?”

“Well, … would you be a great Mand’alor, if you decide to take up the mantle? Absolutely.  Do I personally want you to be the Mand’alor? That’s … that’s harder to answer”

“Why?”

“I … I don’t want to see you hurt”

“Ara, being the Mand’alor doesn’t mean I’m going to get hurt”

“Din … seeing you … when the Vurk jumped on your back, seeing him stab you over and over again, I … that was one of the hardest things for me to see. You’re my friend, I don’t want to see my friend injured. When you didn’t wake up right away, I was freaked out. I know I tried to play it off like it didn’t bother me, but I … what happens if something happens to you? I … need you safe, Din. I know there will always be someone who wants to challenge you for the title. Do I think you’ll be a great Mand’alor? Yes. Do I want to see you in a position where you are constantly fighting for you life? No, you’re my friend, Din. I don’t want to see my friend hurt or worse.”

She understood better then most how dangerous being Mand’alor could be. Yet she still was willing to follow him and support his decision. 

“Wherever your future leads, I’ll be by your side to support you.”

Even when he had finally admitted not only to himself but to her that he was considering taking up the mantle, she was still supportive. 

“Does that mean you're going to take it up?”

“Not sure yet, but I'm leaning more towards yes. Seeing how you help the people of Mos Eisley, inspires me. You do so much for those who need help, with barely any resources. I can’t help but wonder, how much more can I do for my own people? For others in the galaxy who need it?”

“You'll be amazing at it, I have no doubt people will appreciate your kindness." 

Even in her last message to him, when she thought she’d never see him again, she made a point to remind him of who he was and to not forget.

“…There are so many things I need to say, but my time is running short … I should have said this when you were leaving to meet Grogu, but I thought … I thought I had more time. You’re the best man I’ve ever known, I know you think your past defines you, makes you unlovable because you’ve done things you’re not proud of, however that’s not true. I know it’s not true because … because I love you. I love you, Din. I’m so proud of you, of the man you are, despite all that has been thrown your way, you didn’t allow it to defeat you, you got back up. I should’ve told you when we were on Sorgan, should’ve told you when we were on Papsr. I think I realized it that night at the orphanage, how deeply in love with you I am, I’m sorry for wasting so much time. I love you, Din. With all my heart, and it’s okay if you don’t feel the same because … because you gave me something I didn’t think I’d ever have again. Hope. Thank you, Din. Look after Adi for me, tell him I love him. I love you both. I have to go, but never forget you are a good man, and I love you, cyare.”

Throughout his time with Amara, his time on Tatooine, he’s been able to see what a good leader is, what a true ruler should be like, and Boba was right about one thing, this woman sitting in front of him was definitely no ruler. 

“Well you’re certainly charming in your own right aren’t you?” The sarcasm flowing out of Din’s mouth oozed down the walls and all around them. “As clever as you may think you are, I will not simply lay my hand down and give you the sword. Not anymore.” If he could regain his Manda status by swimming in the living waters underneath Mandalore, then his own people wouldn’t need to hide anymore, they’d be able to be recognized and accepted. 

Boba couldn’t have been prouder of his friend, he didn’t falter simply because she tried to provoke him. 

Bo simply shook her head, “How an ungrateful useless piece of osik like you became Mand’alor …”

“Say one more disrespectful word to the real Mand’alor in my presence and you’ll see what my father truly taught me” Boba cut off her disrespectful uttering mid-sentence, he may not buy into the whole Mandalorian custom with a burning passion these two seemed to possess, however it didn’t mean he would allow someone to disrespect his friend and the King of a Sovereign nation before him. 

“Who knew Jango’s DNA could hold such passion?” she teased, “… Or such loyalty that wasn’t programmed”

“Keep that mouth going and I’ll show you what loyalty is” Din responded on behalf of Boba, his hands clenching against the stone table, his disgust of her attitude and disrespect rang through in his tone. This woman most definitely could not be Mand’alor.

“Just when I think maybe … just maybe you might have a chance at being a somewhat passable Mand’alor, you go and open your mouth and stand up for this …” before she could finish her sentence, Din moved in one motion pushing the chair back and igniting the sword.

“I told you …” his adrenaline coursed through his veins like a stampeding force, his breathing quickened as his anger began to build. He wanted to knock of her head, cleanly from her shoulders, before anything could happen, Boba knocked his gauntlet against the table, the sounds of it echoing through out the room. Din turned to look at Boba.

“I was clear” his voice was strict, firm, and commanding, his full authority as Daimyo of Tatooine displaying itself as clear as day, “when I commanded everyone to leave their weapons. Was I not?” 

Din bowed his head towards his friend, “I apologize Great Boba.”

Boba didn’t say anything more, simply holding out his hand towards Din, almost like a father scolding his young son. Without any more words, he turned off the shimmering blade and handed over the darksaber. 

Once Boba laid it, in front of him, Din retook his seat. Boba looked over to Bo-Katan, “As for you, Lady Kryze, regardless of what you may or may not think of me, I am Daimyo of Tatooine. I am the one who allowed you to come here and discuss terms in a civilized manner, yet you rather throw barbs and insults at me. My father was Jango Fett, the previous Mand’alor, he raised me, he trained the clones in his care, with determination and a sense of pride, teaching them the ways of Mandalore. Yet, you disrespect his memory! Simply because of your own willful conceit and arrogance!”

“You’re father was a poor excuse of Mand’alor”

“Watch your mouth, Death Watch princess”

Din’s head swivelled quickly, “What did you say?”

Bo let out a sigh of exhaustion as she leaned against her chair, “Well damn. You just had to open your mouth, didn’t you Lord Boba.”

“You … you’re Death Watch?” Din asked shocked at the revelation.

“Correction, was. I was Death Watch.”

Somehow that made him dislike her even more.

“I see”

“You see?”

“I knew you liked to adjust the deal whenever it was convenient to you, didn’t realize that expanded towards your oaths too.”

“Need I remind you despite my faults, I am still more qualified than you to be Mand’alor. You on the other hand, have no lineage, betrayed your own to work for the remnant Empire, the very people who are responsible for the death of Mandalore. Yet, I suppose that’s something the two of you have in common, isn’t it?” She used her finger lazily pointing between the two of them. 

Neither responded simply keeping their eyes on her. All Din could think was, how in haran (hell) did she find out who he worked for? 

She put a smile on her face, “Then again what can I expect from a Child of the Watch, you all turned on your own, when we needed you the most.”

“They did what was right, Death Watch strayed from the Way of the Mandalore, only to allow an outsider to lead them” Din did his best to defend his people, remembering the way the Armourer used to tell them about the history of their people.

“Oh so you do know a little something”

“We all know the failings that had been Death Watch”

“There wouldn’t have been failings if more people rallied to our cause”

“You mean without creating your own way to rally people?” Boba shifted

Bo glanced over to him, narrowing her eyes, “Aren’t you suppose to be a mediator?”

“It’s my job as mediator to make sure everyone knows what they need to be aware of before making a decision” Boba pointed towards Din, “and he needs to be aware.”

Din was lost in the conversation, what exactly did he need to be aware of?

“There are things that outsiders won’t understand”

“Who are you calling an auretti (outsider)?” Din narrowed his eyes as his hand clenched against the table.

“I didn’t call you an auretti, I said outsider. Someone who is outside of the Death Watch is unable to understand how things were conducted and planned.”

“Oh he may not understand but I do” Boba clenched his fist, “My father told me all about Death Watch’s treachery. I mean let’s face it, it’s not the first time, you’d let innocents suffer just to make Death Watch appear more valiant.”

Bo gritted her teeth, there were things that had been done in the name of Death Watch that she never full agreed with, yet, she still went along with Pre Vizsla’s plans. The last thing she needed was for Fett’s DNA to inform this man about past deeds that didn’t need to be brought to light.

“What are you two talking about?” Din refused to be left in the dark, any longer; there was clearly something she didn’t want to reveal, something that would affect him.

“There were rumours I heard back in the day. Death Watch was in dire need of public support, especially after the separation of the Shadow Collective and Death Watch …” Boba turned to look at Bo, “I imagine recruitment was low.” She didn’t answer simply glared at him further, if that was even possible, yet he could imagine all the things she was saying in her head.

“What are you trying to say Boba?”

“Death Watch staged some - how should I put it - much needed rescues, isn’t that so, Lady Kryze?”

“I wasn’t part of Death Watch at that point.”

“Maybe … yet, you were and are working with the remnants of Death Watch, no?”

“Are you really that petty?” 

“Excuse me, can we get back to the topic at hand?” Din interjected into this weird conversation of speaking without talking. It was as though there was some great secret everyone was aware of except him.

“He’s right, we should be discussing the rightful ruler of Mandalore. Not petty past squabbles.” Bo simply let out an exhausted sigh.

“No, we should be discussing whether or not he should even listen to your demands.” Boba clarified. 

“Enough!” Din lost it with those two, he’s not sure what the problem was between them, he could guess what the issue was, but none that currently dealt with the topic at hand, “I will go to Mandalore, yet I do not agree with the need for a showy display. It seems more that you want to make sure of your own name sake, and not what is best for the people of Mandalore. We’ll meet on Mandalore and have a duel, however, I need time. I need to finish wrapping up some pending work and get certain things in order.”

“That’s fine by me, I don’t need you to like it, I just need you to show up. I expect to see you in two months, or else the bounty goes back on your head.” 

With that Bo stood, thankful Din had agreed to her terms, however reluctantly, before actually learning the truth of what Boba was hinting at. She stood, putting on her helmet and walking out of the room, as guilt began to eat away at her. 

She hadn’t been lying about leaving Death Watch. She wasn’t there when the remaining members  decided to stage attacks on Separatists planets and cities yet untouched by the war; hoping the oppression, deaths, and destruction would move many to join their ranks, as they swooped in like heroes to ‘save’ the survivors. She simply hoped by working together with Death Watch, some may have chosen to join the Nite Owls instead. Who could have predicted the Mand’alor would have been from a planet subjected to the same opportunities. The only difference was instead of Death Watch or Nite Owls rescuing the people on Aq Vetina. After the incident on his planet, the Children of the Watch had received a call for help, arriving just in time to save many.

Din retook his seat, annoyed with Bo even more than possible.

“Good thing Amara wasn’t here huh?” Boba smirked at Din, sliding back the darksaber towards him.

“Agreed, I have no doubt Bo would’ve been dead.”

Boba nodded chuckling to himself, turning his attention towards the droid, and motioning for it to be on its way. “The message I received earlier was from Amara, things aren’t what she expected when she arrived on Kashyyyk, she needs us to go. Sooner rather than later.”

Din nodded, “I brought everything with me, everything else is on the Sintas, so I’m good to go when you are.”

“Then let’s go” Both stood as one unified force heading towards Boba’s ship, “You know she’s gonna smack you, when she learns of what you agreed to.”

“I know, but either I become the Mand’alor in more than name only, or I find someone to become the Mand’alor. Either way, I’ll let her know I’m not agreeing to Bo’s terms because I want to, rather, if I want to be able to see my covert again I need to swim in the living waters below Mandalore. I’ll be able to resolve everything once we’re there.”

“Either way you have my support.”

A Special thank you for loving the SOTF:

Adi in his armour

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[mwolf0epsilon]

Whumptober Day 6: Proof of Life

Prompt: Ransom Video

Summary: Even after all these years, Boba still has nightmares.

[Do you think Boba ever think about Ponds's death? I think this is also the first time I've written Boba, so go easy on me...]

THIS STORY IS ALSO ON AO3

---

Keeping his territory on Tatooine in check is a nightmare all of its own. Not because he's hated (far from it, which he takes pride in), but because he's not the first tough guy with an arsenal to come around and claim the land. He's just the first to not have any issues with the Sand Folk.

Logically Boba never assumed it'd be a walk in the park. He'd given himself a mammoth chore deciding to pick up where that slob of a slug had left off, and actually make something out of this wretched planet that didn't result in the constant misery of those he now ruled over.

Still it was worth doing in the end.

Respect kept most in line. Those that didn't get the memo were dealt with swiftly. It was the upstart wannabe usurpers that gave him reasons to go to bed with an aching back.

There was barely any time to rest at the beginning of his reign. Not that Boba had any trouble going without sleep when he had plenty of trash to take out. Life as a bounty hunter had prepared him for that. The addition of an ally like Fennec also helped to lighten the load considerably.

In due time things started getting less hectic. Weeks after the Pykes were put in their place, and Cad Bane bit the dust, everyone seemed to sort of settle. A period of peace before the next asshat with an ego bigger than Coruscant came about to start some shit.

Work slowed. Tasks became fewer. Fennec never quite relaxed but she was less wary of getting shot any time soon, which meant things were alright for now. Even his rancor seemed content to just lay about, not in a stupor of depression, but because she was satisfied with how things were.

Meanwhile Boba dreaded going to bed.

Even after all these years, Boba still has nightmares.

Nightmares of a lonely city in the sea, endless rainfall, a familiar ship leaving the hanger without him. Nightmares of a hot desert, the roar of beasts, swinging of plasma blades and the fall of a limp body. Nightmares of familiar eyes staring sadly at him, the discharge of a blaster, the slap of a pale hand across his face.

He'd been a kid surrounded by death and disappointment. Isolated and forced to fend for himself more than he'd ever been loved or tended to. Yearning to both be and be more than the person he was cloned from. The only claimed son among hundreds of thousands.

And yet here he was. Still very afraid to go to bed on his own, just as he'd been when he was but that child in Tipoca waiting for his buir to return home. The only difference being that the monsters he'd feared then, now had very familiar faces that seemed to blur at the edges.

The worst of his nightmares were of that damned ransom video Aurra had made to lure out Windu. It's always Ponds who stares at him with those sad resigned eyes of his. But after he (not Aurra in the dream) pulls the trigger, it's Jango who stares back at him with disgust at him being someone else's pawn.

Unable to seek vengeance on his own, nor able to evade ending up in prison. Any form of training he'd learned from his father gone to waste.

A disgrace to the Fett name. Just like all the other clones. Unworthy.

Boba knows he'll never escape the guilt of his failures as both a man and a brother. Most of all he'll never escape the nightmares where the fragmented memory of his father hates him. It makes him dread going to sleep more than the prospect of ending up at the wrong end of a blaster, or back in the guts of a sarlacc.

The mind is not merciful.

#Eps Writes #star wars #the clone wars #whumptober2022 #the book of boba fett #boba fett #guilty conscience #nightmares

[itsmedemibones]

Anything you want to/can share about Kythaa? Her armour is really cool!

Okay so I've never actually shared any info on OCs before but I'm in love with Kythaa so..

*cracks knuckles*

(art by my friend her design has changed slightly since then)

Kythaa Sapp was born in 59 BBY. Her biological parents were running some unfortunate business and had accrued a bounty and had been smuggling goods to Deathwatch. Enter Ariatt Senaar, Haat Mando'ad from Concord Dawn (in my mind dream cast as Karl Urban lol).

--aside: I've been working on Ariatt as an OC as well- his clan name Senaar comes from a family history in times past of falconry, hunting game through the farms and fields of Concord Dawn.

When Ariatt tracks down the Sapps to Hoth, he's disappointed to find them already dead, though their 3 yo child stands fiercely protecting their half frozen bodies in a deep cave, nestled between 2 tauntauns for warmth.

Kythaa becomes Ariatt's foundling. 2 years later, Jaster Mareel is betrayed and dies. Kythaa never really got to know him as Mand'alor, but her Buir is very loyal to Jango. Her training and eventual verd'goten took place under his leadership and Jango was one of the ones who shared a drink with her upon completion of her verd'goten. She's raised amongst the remaining True Mandalorians and works alongside them and her Buir as she grows into her own.

Then Galidraan happens. Though legally an adult, Ky is not there, instead on a hunt related to her biological parents. She refuses to accompany her Buir in support of Jango due to her tunnel vision on finding information on the Sapps. She and her Buir have a nasty fight regarding it before he leaves for Galidraan. He doesn't fully renounce her as a Mandalorian but he does mention that if she's not going to follow the resol'nare regarding coming to the call of the Mand'alor, then maybe he's dar'buir after all.

Kythaa never gets the chance to reconcile with him as every Mando aside from Jango dies at the hands of the Jedi. She doesn't realize that anyone survived. Disgusted with herself, she repaints her armor to the current colors of grey for loss of family, teal for healing, and white for a new start, with red to honor her fallen Buir as well as the Mand'alor she failed.

--another aside- Kythaa's knee armor is very specifically grey and red so that every time she kneels she is saying "Ni ceta" to her Buir and her Mand'alor.

When Jango calls for volunteers to become the cuy'val dar, Kythaa is shocked he still lives. She of course knew of someone calling themselves Jango Fett rising to be the top bounty hunter, but she refused to believe it was him. She tries to join them on Kamino, but Jango refuses her. He harshly says it's because she can't be trusted after failing to follow him to Galidraan, but actually it's that she reminds him of his greatest failure and he can't face his guilt at facing her every day regarding Ariatt's death.

So she continues her work as a disillusioned bounty hunter, wearing her armor but having a tough relationship with her identity as a Mandalorian. She doesn't get to reconcile with Jango either before his death on Geonosis and the start of the clone war. But then, damn, suddenly there's millions of little Jango's running around so that any time she crosses path with the GAR, she's reminded of her own failures. Doesn't help that all the little Jango's are reporting to Jedi which feels perverse and wrong.

Uhhhhh... This went longer than I anticipated lol. I've never written it all down before. I don't really have much planned for her remaining life, like her involvement in the clone war, besides her eventually meeting Kal Skirata and him helping her deal with all her trauma thru his sheer power of being a good dad. I imagine if she ever came across him in her life of hunting she'd probably have a very strained relationship with Boba as well.

But yeah, that's Kythaa. I'm excited to do more with her and her Buir. Probably going to be running a DND style campaign with her with a couple of my friends lol.

If anyone read all of this, wow, thank u hahahaha.

(my own very rough ref sheet for Kythaa)

#Mandalorian #mandalorian oc #my characters #my OCs #kythaa is my baby and i love her more than any OC ive ever had #long post #twisted-falcon #thank you for giving me the excuse to rant about my baby

[thecleverqueer]

Random thoughts while watching the Book of Boba Fett Episode One:

*I find it interesting that Boba went from living on Kamino to living on Tatooine during his lifespan. Just so f*%^ing wet to so f*^%ing dry.

*What happened to Jango’s head!? Where did it go!?

*I’m honestly disgusted by the sarlacc stomach snot that Boba is covered in when he emerges from the pit. Gross.

*Boston Dynamic Spots… part of Star Wars cannon.

*Bith bands on Tatooine are amongst the best in the galaxy. Fight me.

*Hmm. Why are most Twi’leks major domos and sex slaves? Damn Zygerrians.

*Hmm. Well. Not Bette Porter. Bette Porter isn’t a major domo or a sex slave. Bette Porter owns a fancy and popular casino/ bar / brothel with a bitchin’ Bith Band.

*Like, six or seven Scorpions from Mortal Kombat just pop up out of nowhere and attack Boba and Fennec. All I can think is, “dude.. why you gotta mix your Star Wars action figures with your Mortal Kombat ones?” FFS, this isn’t the metaverse.

*Gamoreans coming in clutch until someone brings in the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles paired with the Power Rangers, then the Star Wars characters are f*^%ed.

*Fennec Shand Parkour > Twin Scorpions’ Parkour

*The Rodian prisoner that the Tusken Raiders have captured is Boba’s Timm Karlo. Remember…. Snitches always get stitches.

*Mm. In this case, snitches gets brutally murdered by a Machamp.

*Boba goes all Alakazam on Machamp and strangles him with his spoons, er, chain, and becomes friends with the sand people.

*WTF did I just watch? I remember liking this A LOT more the first time I watched it.

#boba fett #fennec shand #book of boba fett #star wars #twilek #tusken raiders #tatooine

[kaz3313]

Some Fanfic.net fics I can’t for the life of me find- that I would like to:

Lego Movie:

First one I only remember had a scene where Emmet talked to Lucy about his ex (I believe he was in the hospital at this time. Idk) She was a trans woman- and he thought she’d been cheating when he initially saw her pre transition pic in her wallet. I don’t remember anything other then that- it could’ve been a crossover fic but I could be getting two fics meshed in my brain.

Some Xreader w/ Bad Cop in a bathroom. Babies (me) first lemon I read. I clicked out of it and now I’m kinda curious what id come across 😂

Benny almost drowns. That was the whole fic- I think Good Cop saved him.

Star Wars:

Two Girls find their “Dad” Boba Fett. Learn they were a subsect of clones.

C3PO And R2D2 we’re human-ish. Transferred into new robot bodies that looked very close to being human. I think was shippy.

A Classic “I put all the Star Wars Characters in a fic and talk to them throughout it”. I remember Young Boba Fett in there

Jango Fett/Obi Wan. I remember nothing else other then that.

Crack fic of Jabba the Hutt Christmas Party

Inside Out:

(first Edit: The Riley is a Zombie has been found. It’s called Yellowjacket 💕)

Riley is a Zombie and this effects her emotions. Part of the fic was her POV the other was her parents (who were getting sick of being the only people risking their neck out for their group). Could’ve been a Walking Dead Crossover but might’ve been just a Zombie Fic. The Emotions were ignoring disgust because she wasn’t “needed”.

#fanfiction #fanfic.net #The Lego Movie #Star Wars #Inside Out #Pov: Young Me was insane (affectionate)

[lilihasabadweek]

Boba stares at Ziffa, slowly shaking his head.

“She’s right, y’know. I hope you remember all those times we took you in with vivid detail,” he sneers, “Because it will never happen again. You’ve wanted to be a Fett for years because of how well we work together- ‘m half convinced that’s why you’d marry me in the first place. And now? Guess what, Zif?” he shakes his head, “You have completely ruined any chance of ever fitting into this family. You know, I see it now. I didn’t see it before, but I see it now, and I hate it. I hate you. You are a living, breathing, miniature version of Drogr fuckin’ Kryze and I want nothing to do with you.”

“Don’t say that,” Ziffa cries, shaking her head quickly. She reaches out to clasp his wrist, “Bo, please-”

“DO NOT. Touch me.” He rips his hand away and steps back, “You disgust me, Ziffa. All those times my dad cleaned the cuts and bruises on your face… the nights we sat in my room an’ prayed for a better life for you… the dinners Kaz would make you when they didn’t feed you… all of that was us giving you a chance to have a family- a chance, Ziffa. Which is more than they ever gave you. And you fuckin’ ruined it. You. Ruined. It. And now you’re all alone. As you deserve to be. You looked right into your father’s eyes and saw the monster he was and yet you still chose to become it yourself!” He laughs in disbelief, “You’re no better than him. And I… I wasted so much time,” he breathes, “so much time and energy and love on you, Ziffa. So much love.”

“You don’t hate me,” Ziffa lets out a sob, “You don’t, Bo, you could never… you said so yourself.”

Boba gives her a sad smile, nodding a little. “You’re right. I did say that. But that was before I knew that th’love of my life would ruin it so badly just because of her own gods-damned selfishness. We dug you out of that pit, Zif, but instead you grabbed our hands and pulled us down with you. An’ if my sister dies up there,” he points in the direction of the enormous star destroyer in the atmosphere, “I will hunt you for the rest of my days, until your final breath is taken beneath my hands when I strangle the life out of you. That, Ziffa, is the only promise I will be giving you. We’re fucking done.”

He stares at her a moment longer before looking to Kaz and Jango, watching as they figure out what to do. Instead of joining, he walks back the hall to be with you while you pack the few things you have.

I finish packing and tie my bag up, “I’ll miss you, bud,” I say softly, “thanks for hangin’ out with me these past few weeks.”

[t7-01]

is it true??? could it be??? i’m back folks, and so is the clone dad jango au with part 11! masterpost

hondo ohnaka is not a man who knows how to manage children. he's good with them, but that's mostly because he has a natural way with people - anytime he meets a child he has to interact with, he spends most of his time guessing and hoping he's right.

hondo ohnaka finds jango fett's identical children fucking terrifying, but hell if he's going to let any of them know that. the two he met on florrum, the ones who called themselves 24 and 10 (although 10 is apparently fox now, go figure), stand firm in front of the rest, arms crossed, unimpressed expressions matching perfectly like some kind of little action figures.

like hondo said, terrifying.

"our dad didn't say anything about credits," says 24, lip curled in barely-contained disgust. what hondo ever did to them he doesn't have the slightest clue, free booze and a new pet and this is how the brats treat him? well, that is to be expected, he supposes - their father can be supremely ungrateful when he feels like it.

"let's chalk it up to a miscommunication, eh?" hondo says. "jango would not want his boys scamming dear old hondo! so, let me see the nearest data chip, and we can get this all squared away, lickety-split." his tone is friendly enough but he makes sure to let his hand rest near his blaster - he's not planning on shooting jango's boys, of course, but he gets the feeling that they only respond well to methods involving a show of force. 24's eyes flick to the blaster, then back to hondo.

"our dad already paid you on florrum," 24 says coldly, and hondo's eyes narrow. "he gave us permission to kill you if you came around here begging," fox adds. it's almost certainly a lie, but then, hondo's lying about the payment issue, so he supposes lies are only fair play at this point. still, the threat makes his men tense, has them taking a few menacing steps forwards. the boys don't so much as flinch.

"big mouth for a little kid," growls goru, hondo's favorite loveable idiot who tends to act as muscle on account of his being Enormous. one of the boys, one hondo has yet to meet, takes a menacing step forward of his own, coming up roughly to goru's navel and staring the larger man down without a hint of fear.

"big body for a tiny brain," the boy replies coldly. for a tense moment, no one moves - and then hondo laughs so hard he has to rest his one hand on his knee, the other on goru's massive shoulder.

"ah, you truly are your father's sons!" hondo cries through shaking laughter, his men relaxing as he slings an arm around the brave boy's shoulder. "come, come, no need for this nasty business, bah! you boys have a new ship to explore! a house to show me! we will discuss business later, yes?"

"there's nothing to discuss," says 24. "you're not getting any more credits." but hondo waves him away in favor of chatting amicably with jango's other sons - who, it turns out, are only about half as prickly as the two who had visited florrum. he finds out the one with the smart mouth is called ponds, who actually has a pretty even temperament, even apologizing to goru on the way to the homestead.

("why are we taking him back to the house?" fox grumbles. 24 shrugs jerkily, also unhappy with this turn of events, and mentally hopes rex and boba are well-hidden. maybe he can keep them from having to interact with this idiotic pirate.)

"rexy!" keeli calls. "we have guests!" 24 smacks his forehead.

"ah, look at this one, how polite!" hondo says delightedly, patting keeli on the head. keeli positively beams. "rex, is it? my boy, do you know where your father keeps his spotchka?"

"we don't have alcohol in the house," 36 lies easily. (24, personally, breathes a sigh of relief that not all of his brothers have lost their minds). "but if you bring us some from your ship, maybe we don't have to mention your little scam attempt to our dad," adds 36. (okay, that's it, 24's having a serious family meeting with his so-called brothers after ohnaka leaves).

"ha!" says hondo, waggling a finger at 36. "you drive a hard bargain, but why not, eh? goru! get back to the ship! get something top shelf for these boys, you understand? top! shelf!"

("what is happening?" 24 bemoans, looking at his brothers like he doesn't know them. it's fox's turn to shrug. "maybe we shouldn't have told 36 and bly that we got to try ohnaka's liquor," fox muses. 24 has to concede that the temporary bragging rights weren't worth the trouble.)

hondo bursts through the front door, ponds and keeli under each arm, and somehow finds the nearest coms unit with surprising ease, tuning into a radio station and blasting music throughout the house. 24 thinks he’s going to be sick. keeli is absolutely cutting a rug to what hondo calls “real music, my boys, real music!”

by the time goru returns with the booze, 24 sinks into the chair jango normally takes, the picture of defeat, but not before sternly informing rex and keeli that if they go near the alcohol he’ll dye their hair pink. rex crosses his arms, looking very much like their father in that moment.

“i’ve had weird hair for as long as i’ve been alive,” rex tells him, and 24 really doesn’t know where the attitude is coming from, “you’re going to have to make better threats than that.” “i think pink hair would be cool!” keeli adds unhelpfully. “then i’ll shave something stupid into your hair,” 24 says instead. rex and keeli look at each other and nod.

“okay,” rex agrees, handing 24 boba, who peers around the room with interest, “no alcohol.”

a little ways down the road, piik sant makes his way to the fett homestead, surprised to see a pair of unfamiliar ships at the edge of the property. he tries to shrug off his concern, but internally is thankful he left cyelle with her grandparents. if there's strangers at the fett house, they could be dangerous - better he feels them out alone.

the poor man doesn't have a clue what he's walking into.

hello everyone! sorry for the delay - i had a rough go of things for a while, but i’m back and more passionate about the clone dad jango au than ever! these next parts will be kind of silly before we reach the serious and daunting task ahead of jango, which will involve plenty of twists and turns and little heartbreaks. hopefully y’all enjoy this little update! thanks for reading!

FIRST - previous - next

tagging: @thealghulwaynes

#the clones all get trusted adults they can talk to (besides jango ofc) #wolffe gets jilia rex gets piik etc etc #can you guess who ponds gets??? UNCLE HONDOOOOO #let me know if you want to be tagged in updates! #hondo ohnaka #commander fox #goru #commander ponds #captain keeli #captain rex #boba fett #clone dad jango au #tcw #star wars

[cafffine]

Would like to have seen a group of clones who’s disgust with Jango and his apathy towards them led to a scheme to rescue Boba. They’d have spent all their life on Kamino only catching glimpses of the little boy that Jango keeps grounded in his room. He’s got the same face as the rest of them and it breaks their heart.

It’s bad enough to see the deadbeat himself strutting around with his chin held high and his pockets heavy, but imagine what that boy must go through, connected at the hip and likely only kept around for decoration, a perfect trophy.

So these clones decide to do what’s right by their brother. They spend weeks planning it out, they confirm when Jango will be gone, secure a ship to sail them away, train harder than they ever have before - because now it’s real, now they’ve got someone counting on them.

The day comes and they get everything right, don’t trip a single alarm, don’t step a foot out of place. The door to their father’s room opens silently and they arrive in triumph, knights gallant. They call out to their brother, they know his name, he knows their voice, and they’re terrified of what they’ll find. Does he even have a bed? Doesn’t matter, he’s safe now.

But then one of them looks at the wall, and sees the messy finger painting - framed. But then one of them takes a step towards the kitchen and there’s flowers on the windowsill, and a stool by the sink to allow a smaller cook to assist his chef. But then there’s toys scattered on the floor and a small, blue hand knitted sweater hanging in the hall and a dinner table for two and colorful books piled high and a rocking chair in the corner and pictures tacked up of a family smiling and he loves him. Jango loves his son, it’s everywhere, this is a home.

When Boba emerges with a blaster shaking in his hands and asks what these men are doing in his house, they don’t know how to answer. They feel like intruders, unwanted pests, a threat.

They leave with their hands raised and make a run for it. The flight out is silent, they do their best not to hate him too.

#it’s been a think about jango and boba kind of week #but yeah what if the clones didn’t know how loved boba was and thought of him with sympathy and solidarity and #then got proved wrong in the worst way ever #I wanted to write a fic about this but it would never get done so here’s this i’m just throwing spaghetti at the wall #jango fett #boba fett #clones wars #my writing #double shot

[emperor-palpaminty]

Oookay so... what do you think about anger prompt 16 with Boba? 👀 That just screams him for me. Only if you don't mind writing angst for him first 🤠 I hate angst but that prompt is MUAh

OOOOH

OH you're good 👀👀👀👀 I wouldn't necessarily think this is really angsty, but I'll defs use this quite because it is VERY boba-y. This wasn’t very sad, but I quite enjoyed writing it

16. “Control your anger or you’ll have me to worry about.” 

Boba heard the former Jedi groan in the back of the cockpit. He ignored it, flipping some switches softly, rotating his jaw under his helmet. The Jedi sat up, and Boba felt the dread radiating as it dawned on the Jedi where exactly she was.

“Have a good nap?” Boba asked, calmly. He had delt with enough Jedi in his day to know what was going on- eventually the Jedi would resign to their fate, like the others, maybe beg for their life, but instead he felt a push against his seat.

He ignored it. 

It happened again, harder. 

Boba whipped around in his chair, glaring, staring at the Jedi’s half-raised boot. “Watch it.”

“You watch it,” She mumbled, staring defiantly at him.

Boba rose from his seat, walking and squatting down in front of her. Her eyes glittered in rebellion. “I don’t think you get what’s going on.” 

She scanned him, his armor, gaze dark as her chin tilted back, and her lips twitched. “I don’t think you get it, either.” Her voice was gravelly, low, and exited sneering lips. 

The bounty hunter gently reached down, taking her chin in his fingers. “The bounty stated it wanted you alive, but they’ll probably take a corpse.” He growled, leaning in, but her expression didn’t shift. She skimmed his visor, brows knitted together. “You’re Jango’s kid.” She said, softly.

Boba’s hand trembled, fingers drawing back slightly, and the Jedi took the chance to swing her leg again- not at his pilot seat, but at him.

He crashed on his arm as she jumped at him, wrists still bound, elbows crashing on his helmet. His arms moved up, view restricted by his visor. He blocked, hand encircling her bound arms and kicked over, pinning her down. “Watch it,” He repeated, hissing. “You’d better get that attitude in check, or else you’ll have me to worry about.”

She snorted, then spit dripped down his visor. Boba reached up and wiped it off, disgust lacing the Jedi’s voice as she spoke. “It’s not me who has to be worried.”

“You don’t have a lightsaber anymore-” He stood, dropping her arm, and he heard her collapse on the cold hull of the floor. “Jetti,” He spat, moving back towards the pilot seat.

The woman struggled to sit up, peering at him, and her eyes burned into his back, even though his armor. “At least I’m not a merc.”

He kept his mouth shut. Boba’s jaw tightened as he tugged the navigation lever, knowing silence was golden.

She wasn’t on Geonosis. She wasn’t one of the Jedi that wiped out his father’s family- Boba had begun hating the Jedi after his father told him of the purge. They were arrogant, full of hatred for anything other than their cult, their “order”. 

He heard her shift and sit up, and she moved to stand. “I feel hatred, Boba.”

“Your Jedi senses are tingling, huh?”

She sighed, agitated, waltzing next to him and plopping down into the Slave I copilot seat, where Boba used to sit. He bristled, snarling, “Out of the chair.”

“Can I tell you a secret, Boba? Can I call you Boba?”

“No.”

“To which-”

“Both.”

She sighed, slumping on the seat. After staring at the stars, she began laughing. She threw her head back, cackles ripping from her throat, and she sighed. “Oh, this is delicious.” She reached up, hands still cuffed, and wiped away a tear rolling down her cheek. “I’ll tell you anyways.”

Boba grunted, kicking at the seat. “Fine. But you have to get back on the floor.”

“Gross. No.” She turned to him, eyes narrow, and Boba suddenly got the tickle in the back of his neck that she didn’t need her lightsaber to be dangerous. “I’m not a Jedi, Boba.”

“There’s a bounty-”

“Yeah. For anyone who the Empire doesn’t like.” She wagged a finger, leaning on the dash, a glint in her eye. “I never got past being a Padwan. I’m not valuable.”

Boba grunted.

She stared at him, her ploy failing. She finally shrugged, crossing her bound wrists behind her head and leaning back. “They don’t like you, either.”

“And you don’t like me.”

“Good guess. I happen to not be fond of people who kill innocents. And the Empire doesn’t like you, either.” When he remained stoic, she sighed again. “You know, I can be really good when it comes out to bounties-”

“Do you wanna eat plasma?”

“Doesn’t sound particularly tasty.”

“Sit. The kark. Down.”

The jedi gestured at the chair under her. “I am sitting.”

Boba jutted a finger at the floor. The Jedi sighed, agitated, and stood, plunking on the ground. “There, was that so hard?”

“Yeah.” She crossed her arms, frowning. “Say, who put in a bounty for me?” 

Boba glanced at her. “Will you shut up if I tell you?” When she nodded, eagerly, he groaned, deciding it was ultimately worth it if she would be quiet. “Marnaak.”

“Marnaak, huh?” A grin flittered to her lips and she sat back, closing her eyes. “Mm.”

He glanced at her, pausing. “What’s funny?”

She said nothing, only looking at the ceiling, that subtle grin on her mouth. Silently, Boba turned back to the dash, typing in the coordinates. As long as she was quiet and shut up, he would be perfectly pacified with this delivery.

___

Boba realized something was wrong when the Jedi led him off the ship and not the other way around. The sands of Tatooine whipped around them, and she stopped, glancing back for him. “What?”

“I hate this planet.”

“Just a little dirt.”

Mumbling “A lot of dirt,” Boba stepped down after her, motioning her to follow. “Marnaak will be waiting for us.” The Jedi followed, not reluctant, not begging, but held her head high.

It was several dunes of walking. Boba was happy his armor had a coolant system, otherwise he would have died of heat exhaustion. He glanced sideways at the Jedi, who was effortlessly walking over the sand, sweat beading on her forehead, but eyes light in that same determination he saw earlier. He glanced back ahead, brow setting. He was ready to be rid of this kriffing Jedi.

The Weequay was waiting, with his gang of mercenaries- Gamorians, Weequay, humans- all waited, guns and armor, all eyes on the Jedi.

“Boba!” The weequay flashed yellowed teeth, approaching him and the Jedi. “And our jedi.”

The Jedi smiled, calmly, eyeing the enemy. “Hey, Fett. Wanna know why I got kicked out of the order?”

Boba ignored her. He turned to the Weequay. “My credits.”

“You sure?” She chided, and Boba saw her fingers roll. He still had his hand out to the Marnaak, expectant and open. The Jedi, in his peripherial, shugged. “Okay.”

She moved faster than he saw. Her hand reached out and he saw the Force move a man, pick him up and throw him across the sand. The Jedi’s hands snapped down over her bent knee and her bond broke. Boba’s hand flew down to his gun and he fired, but she danced past it, running at Marnaak. She jumped at him, hands landing on his forehead, and her arms clenched.

Boba had no other words for it- Marnaak crumbled. His leather skin cracked, caked, dried, and he collapsed into the ground, a corpse. 

The Jedi whipped to the others, moving past their plasma fire, swaying easily between them, grabbing a Gamorian’s spear. She twisted it, rapidly, felling the remaining mercenaries.

Boba leveled his gun. He exhaled, watching- never had a Jedi done this, not as far as he had seen- and he had seen many things.

She stood, among the corpses, and she inhaled, dropping the spear. She glanced at him, her eyes glinting, and she offered an easy smile. “I figured out that the Force is in everything- including the living.” She moved towards him, and Boba stood his ground, staring. “And the Force is in me. And you. So-” She gave a shrug, grinning wider. “Why not take it for myself?”

“You’re no Jedi.”

“That’s what I tried to tell you.” She bent down, scooping up the bag. “Oh, your credits.” She ripped open the bag, tugging out a handful and tossing the rest of the bag at his feet. She smiled at him, golden eyes glinting in the sun. “Thanks, Fett. Maybe I’ll run into you again soon.”

She was gone- over the sandy seas, somewhere. Boba figured he wouldn’t mind seeing her again- those golden eyes haunted him.

#boba fett x reader #star wars reader insert #boba fett #boba x reader #minty writes #jedi!reader

[ct-deactivated-blog]

The face under the helmet:

Jango Fett was the genetic template of the clone troopers from the GAR and Boba Fett, an unaltered clone of himself, whom he raised as his son. After Jango’s death, Boba would follow his father’s steps, becoming a famous bounty hunter. [x] [x]

#star wars #jango fett #boba fett #swedit #sw edit #fuckyeahswprequels #theforcesource #swnews* #swmovies #clones #thats the not white face of your badass boba fett. deal with it #see what happens when i read dumb stuff online ugh #also i would like to comment on hevy's disgusted face at his brothers in aotc this is totally canon