A short story on the fall of Mandalore into the hands of the Empire- basically filling in the gaps between the Clone Wars and Rebels. Written so that it would fit into canon if it were legitimized, just to give this work a more realistic, enjoyable read. This is based on CANON history, so all the Legends information about Mandalore will only be included in accordance to the story. Expecting ten-ish chapters, hope you enjoy!
For my Naruto fans, the Itachi/Kisame story will come after this, sorry! This idea came into my head and just blossomed quickly, didn't want to waste it.
I don't own Star Wars, please don't sue me Mickey Mouse.
XXX
Gar Saxon, Clan Saxon Household
The heroes welcome was not there, and he had to admit that it was foolish to believe he could've expected anything like it. Nevertheless, it hurt him on a deeper level than he would've believed.
Tiber and Seals were standing out front the main door. Both had their helmets off and an ashen expression on their faces. Tiber's icy blue eyes narrowed as he dipped his head in acknowledgement to his brother. "Well?"
Gar shook his head, and Tiber's face solidified into a stony mask. "He's waiting inside for you." He did not offer any good luck; Seals looked away, his warmer blue eyes that would've filled Gar with more inspiration refusing to meet Gar's red ones.
He nodded curtly and hit the keypad, opening the millennia old durasteel door, splitting the emblem of the Saxon Clan down the middle. He pressed into the Clan Home, and immediately noticed how dim the lighting was. The great windows were open, but of course no light entered them. Whereas Mandalore's Sun often fed their broken homeworld light, the toxic fumes of war blocked it out today.
But not even the electrical lights bothered to fill in the darkness. Instead, primitive candles adorn with the Saxon crest hung from chains, casting orange light across the dusty wooden floors; some of the last natural wood Mandalore had once born, before the violent wars of their past had burned away all life outside the protective domes than even now enveloped the Saxon Household.
"Is that you, my son? My child, Gar Saxon?"
He immediately straightened and took his helmet off, holding it at hip's height. With one arm. In front of him, where the bright crimson carpet down the middle fed, the chair of the Saxon Clan Head stood on an elevated platform. In it, the single occupant of the Head himself sat.
"It's me, Father."
"Then come forward. Let me see you."
Aurelius Saxon was old, and that said something. Even when Duchess Satine had been in control and her repulsive pacifist doctrine had presided over all of Mandalore, the simple living conditions of Mandalore had often prevented many from progressing past sixty standard years of age. Yet, Aurelius had thus far lived to the age of fifty-nine, and showed no signs of wearing down. Even now, he proudly wore his gray and crimson Mandalorian armor, the dagger through the skull pronounced on an upgraded shoulder pad. Gar had not seen him for years, ever since he had decided to join Pre Vizsla's Death Watch.
Of course, Aurelius had not challenged this. Like his sons and the rest of the clan, they had years ago grown bored of wearing their armor only as symbols of the past.
As he knelt on a single knee before the Saxon Clan Head, Gar recalled their last conversation, before he and his brothers had fled. "Once you leave, I will have to publicly renounce you," Aurelius had said, four years earlier his hair a much darker, healthier shade of gray, the wrinkles less pronounced. "Disgusting as she is, the Duchess's word is law. Death Watch breaks this law. For the sake of the Clan, I cannot openly approve."
"But you do?" A younger Gar, the second youngest of his family behind Tiber and ahead of Seals, had always sought his father's approval. He could not have been sure he was hearing correctly. "If this endangers the clan-"
"Your brothers and some other Clansmen are already making this choice," Aurelius had interrupted. "You must be firm in your choice. Once you have chosen it, you must continue it, do you understand me?" He had sighed then, lifting a hand indicating Gar could in turn get up. "Clan Saxon's honor must be preserved, even in this dishonorable age. Perhaps with House Vizsla's aid, our proper glory can be returned."
"Now go. Whatever you must do to bring us our glory, you will do it. Do you understand?"
"You did not understand."
Gar Saxon gritted his teeth and lowered his head. As much as he had matured, hearing the sardonic disapproval in his Father's voice stung more than his brother's ignorance towards him. How long had he sought to be bring glory not only to the Saxon name, but to his hardened Father?
On his wooden throne, graced with petrified blossoms of long extinct plants, Aurelius snorted. "I told you four years ago to bring Clan Saxon, did I not?"
"You did, Father."
"Then where, pray tell, is that HONOR?" He shouted the last word, and Gar froze. Aurelous's feet slapped against the wooden floor as he stood up from the throne and began to pace around his son, and Gar continued to look down at the crimson carpet that matched the color of his scarred armor. "What were you doing out there, boy? Playing soldier?"
"I joined Death Watch-"
"That was what you told me, yes! You, Tiber, and Seals, as well as many of our clan! And when Vizsla was killed by the alien called Maul-" Aurelius seemed to forcibly contain his anger, Gar hearing the gnarled hands rub against each other like snakes in a pit. The Saxon Head growled deep in his throat before he spoke again. "Seals had the sense to break away with Clan Skyrze, giving me the chance to preserve our honor. You and Tiber joined the Shadow Collective... a gang of criminals!"
Gar was never one to remain silent when being attacked, whether physically or verbally. "According to our traditions, Pre Vizsla was killed by Maul in mortal combat," he snapped, lifting his head and making Aurelius stare down at him with disgust. "By all rights, Maul was the next, true leader of Mandalore! Bo-Katan had no right to revolt-"
"Giving Mandalore to an OUTSIDER?" Aurelius Saxon began to pace again, shaking his head vehemently. The red glow of the candles blurred his face into a nightmarish vision that reminded Gar of his childhood training, of forcing himself to overcome his fears through brute force. Sometimes, those memories persisted, though usually he was able to choke them down.
His Father laughed cruelly. "Perhaps letting you join Death Watch so early in your years was a mistake. But then again, Seals- the youngest- had enough sense to retain loyalty to what Mandalore really is!"
"Tiber stayed," Gar said bitterly.
It was the wrong thing to say. Aurelius grabbed a fistful of Gar's blond hair and pulled it up. It seemed ridiculous, the old man holding the powerfully built, proud young Mandalorian so dominantly, but through the pain, through the grip, Gar ironically felt he knew why his Father had retained Clan leadership for so long.
"Your brother stayed," Aurelius whispered in his ear, making Gar's skin crawl. "Until Maul's powerbase was destroyed by the Confederacy and Republic both! Criminal power that dared to taint the Saxon name, destroyed in mere days. I could not feel more relieved to hear the news. There was nothing going for him, a galactic outlaw with no power to stake to the title of Mandalore. Tiber had enough sense to then, finally, return home."
"But not you. Not you, you idiot boy." Aurelius thrust Gar's head back down in the sign of submission, and there Gar stayed, feeling the sting of his Father's touch and words like multiple blades piercing his century-old armor. Anger engulfed him, and still he spoke out.
"Not completely destroyed," Gar said defiantly. "We came back- I came back. If the Republic hadn't gotten involved, we would have won!" He glowered down at the floor, not daring to look up at Aurelius. "I would have brought glory to the Saxon name. I would have earned myself honor, perhaps a position in the new government that would've arisen. You would have been my advisor, Tiber and Seals leaders of a new army of refined, potent Mandalorians!"
He ran out of breath, and he felt surprised his Father had not interrupted him so far. Just when he began to suspect Aurelius might have actually been stunned into silence, the other spoke.
"'If.' If you had succeeded." Aurelius sighed again as he walked back to his throne and slunk into it, his armor clacking against the stone. Gar felt more guilt in the muted disappointment than the angry shouts.
"Maul is gone, and that means there is nothing more for you with him. So at last, you have returned to your Clan. The sole Saxon still serving with the false Mandalore, and now you've returned. Do you feel my disbelief now, Gar?"
He did, but he did not say anything.
"Tiber and Seals acquired power after all in the new government, miraculously. Bo-Katan was kind enough to give us representation as she rebuilds us from the destruction of the Clone War."
"In the wake of... the Empire."
Aurelius's sardonic tone returned. "The Galactic Empire. Ridiculous... but these are ridiculous times. I suppose after everything that has happened to our world over the past years, this shouldn't be any more surprising. To think that after the war our ancestors fought to end the Republic, it was defeated by itself." Aurelius chuckled, seemingly forgetting Gar was still knelt submissively before him. "Ridiculous..."
"What would you have me to, Father?" Gar asked, resisting the urge to look up.
His Father laughed again. "You will accompany Tiber and Seals tomorrow. We will see if Kryze will have you punished as a traitor, or welcome a warrior back to Sundari."
Gar looked up, not sure if he should say what he was feeling. The look of indifference upon Aurelius's face, however, all but answered it.
He doesn't care if I live or die anymore. Because I failed to bring us glory.
Aurelius waved a hand to his son, signaling he could rise at last. "Your old room is ready for you, whether for one night or for the years to come. Enjoy it while you can. Your brothers will escort you to Sundari an hour after the Sun rises." The old man's face twisted into a thin smile. "Then again, I can't really tell when it rises with all that smoke of yours in the air, can I?"
XXX
To his Father's credit, he did not have any guard stay outside his room that night. If he could have wanted to, Gar could've donned his armor, activated his jetpack, and fled to escape his potential fate.
Somehow, he felt that his Father almost intended for him to do that, so that he could tarnish the Saxon name even more. The conspiracies and possibilities filled his head like the choking smoke that hung about Sundari, from the Republic's siege.
He should have guessed long ago that Maul did not care for Mandalore in a way the rest of them did. His father was right; Maul was an alien, with no ties to the culture. Pre Vizsla would have made a truer, more potent Mandalore had he not been killed by the former Sith Lord. Vizsla had the ties, the passion, the warrior-mindset that would've given Clan Saxon real power and integrity. Perhaps Seals had been right to denounce Maul alongside Bo-Katan Kryze, to follow her words of, "No outsider would have rule Mandalore."
Without his armor on, he felt far more vulnerable to his doubts. He turned over and looked at it. Cracked, burned, and soiled, the ghosts of the Saxon's crimson color still clinging to the gray beskar alloy. Looking at it filled him with inspiration, and once again he considered escaping the Saxon complex.
But it would only bring his Clan more shame. Tiber, Seals, and the surviving clansmen who had originally joined Death Watch and the Collective had done all they could to restore the Saxon's name. When Seals had returned, Saxon was able to throw claim that House Saxon sided with the "true Mandalorians." When Tiber, the oldest brother, had done the same after Maul's final defeat at Dathomir and returned to swear loyalty to Bo-Katan's growing movement, Aurelius could only further enhance the Clan's honor.
Still Gar had clung to Maul. Foolishly, he saw now. He cursed himself in Mando'a and Basic, and turned away from the armor to stare at the wall.
He doesn't trust me to bring us honor anymore, he thought with calm resignation. I had my chances to come back and retain our honor in his eyes. Now, it's up to Tiber and Seals to do it. I mean nothing to him or the rest of the Saxon's anymore.
A new decoration caught his eye, one he handed noticed when he'd first entered and flung himself onto the simple cot. His room even as a child had never borne more than the simple basics one might have. His gaze took the shape of the blue color, watching it rise up in the shape of a banner to the top of the ceiling. This struck him odd; their clan color was a deep red.
The Saxon crest did not lie in the center. Instead, the black and white circle of the Galactic Empire was centered in, a fresh intruder in his own room.
Soon to be an intruder to all of Mandalore, he thought stiffly. He sat up in the darkness, blinking his pale silver eyes to adjust. The Imperial insignia, a white core with six lances of light stretching out from it, grew clearer, almost glowing. He eyed it with distrust. It's the Republic. Even Vizsla was against allying with them.
And look where that got him.
Gar Saxon didn't want to die. He knew that he would not be given such a quick, warrior-like end as Vizsla had received. He didn't want to end up like Vizsla at all, however great and true a Mandalorian he had been. Dying here on his homeworld...
Tiber had some off-world experience, when he and Gar had served with Maul. Seals had none, and he suspected Bo-Katan had none either. Not many Mandalorians had survived the Siege of Mandalore on Maul's side either, meaning there was a sharp decline in traditional Mandalorians...
A plan began to form in his mind as he took in the still banner of the Empire. Maybe, just maybe, he would be able to turn things into his and Mandalore's favor.
When the knock on his door came in the passing hours, his brothers found him already dressed in armor, helmet held in his hands, and a strangely eager gleam in his eyes.