Chapter Two

As a Mandalorian Torian was used to feeling a little disappointed when a battle or mission ended, that never ending thirst for action calling for more, even when he knew there would be more the next day. However today he suspected the feeling was disappointment that his time Noara's side was up and he had no way of knowing if he would be assigned to her again tomorrow. It had been a long time since he had felt such effortless companionship on the battlefield. While he had rightly restored his clan's honor years ago there was still a stiffness between him and other Mando's when they first met, like he had to prove himself to each one of them before they would treat him like vod.

He hadn't really noticed until after Dubaku and Mako parted ways from him, deciding to find somewhere as peaceful as possible in these days to settle down after Mako got pregnant. That had been almost four years ago. Torian didn't even know where they were, if the baby had been healthy, a boy or a girl or even how Dubaku was adjusting to fatherhood. However, the idea of the rough warrior with a child was always amusing to Torian.

Noara was the first person since Dubaku that he had such an easy partnership in the field. He wasn't sure exactly why she was here, her help was appreciated but not necessary so far, so he had no way of knowing if they would ever cross paths again.

Which made him doubly grateful that she had agreed to attend that night's festivities. As the only members of the camp she knew were him, Khomo, and Mand'alor herself it wasn't long after the spiced tihaar had been broken out that she had slipped into a seat across from him and stolen his bottle to help herself.

"So," she said after offering the bottle, now several swallows lighter, back to him, "how much did I cramp the big tough Mandalorian's style today?"

He sighed like the nickname bothered him but was internally smiling. "You only slowed me down a little Jetii ad'ika."

"That's it!" She said, jabbing her finger at him with smile, "if you are going to keep using Mando'a casually you are going to have to teach me."

"Are you sure? It's a hard language and we only have tonight." It was also almost unheard of, teaching an aruetii their language-at least it was with one unlikely to be adopted into a clan. A few words here and there sure, but the language itself was only known by Mandalorians.

"Challenge accepted," she declared, "besides I'm a quick study."

Torian shook his head at her antics but agreed anyway. They procured a datapad and started going over some basic words he thought she might hear. He started with simple words like skraan, parjai, vercopa, cabur and mesh'la before she asked him about numbers and they were distracted for a while with counting their drinks in Mando'a. Her accent was still awful, but she was picking the words up faster than he expected. When they were several bottles of tihaar in and working on the saying "burc'ya vaal burk'yc, burc'ya veman" Shae had passed by their corner to see what they were doing.

"You're supposed to be relaxing and enjoying yourself you two," she scolded halfheartedly before she took the datapad away and replaced it with a plate she had been holding when she came over. "This is a party, no more work."

Noara laughed as Shae walked away. "She's very different then I remember. So, what is this?" she asked, pointing at the plate in front of her.

"It's uj'alayi. It's cake, made with nuts, fruit and sweet uj'ayl syrup," he explained, ripping a piece off the flat cake and eating it. "Try it."

Shae's interruption of their impromptu language lesson reminded Torian of something he had meant to ask about earlier, when they were leaving to head to the guns. Noara had said something confusing to Shae on their way out of the command tent.

"Earlier, what did you mean by that thing you said to Mand'alor when we left, about being dead before?"

"Ahh that," she said, picking at the uj'alayi sitting in front of her, pulling off a piece and popping it in her mouth before looking up at him. "You really don't know who I am? What I've done?"

He shook his head, passing the bottle back to her. She took a long swig before continuing.

"I'll assume you know someone killed the Zakuulian Emperor Valkorion five years ago, just before Arcann took the throne and attacked the rest of the galaxy?"

Torian nodded, everyone knew that, but he was curious where this could be going if that was where she was starting.

"I killed Emperor Valkorion."

The words hung heavy between them as their meaning sunk in for Torian. She killed the man the Zakuulians claimed was immortal, which always seemed strange to him since the man was killed and therefore not immortal. But she had done it. His respect for her grew as he considered how powerful someone would have to be to accomplish that. It was rumored that Valkorion had lived for centuries, inciting the claims of his immortality, and on the few times his rule was challenged had defeated his opponents soundly. And yet the petite woman sitting across the table from him defeated him.

"Why did you kill him?" He asked at length.

She laughed, but it wasn't a happy sound, "because he wasn't just the Emperor of Zakuul."

Noara leaned forward onto the table to meet Torian's gaze. "He was the Emperor of the Sith Empire. A man I had been hunting for over a year, a man who imprisoned and tortured my friends and tampered with my mind to make me do his bidding. I lost six months of my life to that monster's schemes, reduced to little more than a prisoner in my own mind." She spat the words out, her voice low and bitter sounding before sighing heavily and sitting back in her seat. After taking a long drink from the bottle in front of her she continued.

"When he disappeared from Dromund Kaas several months before Zakuul showed up that was me. I killed his physical body, but it turned out that wasn't the one that mattered. So, when I was brought before him in shackles, after he had killed Darth Marr for refusing to bow before him, I knew he was going to kill me. I'll never submit to him again. I'd rather die, and have it stick. And then Arcann helped me. He removed the cuffs and even handed me a lightsaber before attacking his own father. While he was distracted I ran him through. I helped give Arcann what he wanted, the throne, and he turned his father he helped murder into a martyr to excuse his war."

She let the words sit in the air between them while she finished the bottle and reached for another in the middle of the table.

Torian's buzzed mind was spinning. He knew the two Emperor's were one. He knew someone had killed Valkorion but he had always assumed it was Arcann's doing solely and he just blamed it on an "outlander" to justify his war, or maybe one of the Dark Council members. Someone feared for their power and greedy for more, wanting to take the Eternal Fleet as their own.

Instead it was the doing of the woman sitting across from him sharing a bottle of spiced tihaar. He had been impressed with her ability in battle earlier, but she had defeated the Emperor twice? He remembered when the news came out that a Jedi had infiltrated the Temple outside Kaas city and defeated the Emperor. The Dark Council tried to hush it up of course, but there wasn't much that happened in that city the Mandos didn't hear about. There had been a lot of talk about which Jedi could have possibly pulled that off, but no one ever found out who it had been for sure.

He studied her carefully as she turned her face to watch the revelry around them, a soft smile playing on her lips, and wondered just how powerful she was. If they had met as enemies who would have walked away? If his old friend Dubaku had faced her as his final mark in the Great Hunt would she have defeated him? If that happened would he have died fighting his father? Would he have ever earned his fellow Mando's respect? Would he-

Torian shook his head sharply, dismissing the rambling questions. He did not want to go any farther down that wampa rat hole. He snagged the bottle she had opened and took a greedy gulp hoping the alcohol would settle his mind some.

It did help him slow down his thoughts enough to realize that she didn't answer his question.

"Hey," he called, drawing her attention back to him from the wrestling match that had broken out on the other side of the fire. "Didn't explain the whole dead thing."

The smile on her face dimmed noticeably as she processed his question and he was about to take it back, regretting pushing for an answer she might not want to share when she started talking again.

"As punishment for my crimes against the Eternal Empire I was frozen in carbonate and hung on the wall of Arcann's palace as a trophy. Nobody knew what had happened to me and the last time anyone spoke to me I was on a battle cruiser that was about to explode. When I never showed up again people assumed I went down with the ship."

Her voice was flat like she was delivering a report not describing her imprisonment by an enemy. Noara held her hand out for the bottle and quickly took a drink when he handed it to her.

"They made a right mess of it too, the freezing that is, gave me carbonate sickness that was slowly killing me. If Lana hadn't found me when she did I would be dead by now, like any other stuffed gundark head on a hunter's wall."

"You were frozen for five years with carbonate sickness?" Torian asked incredulously.

Dubaku had once talked to Torian about the dangers of carbonate freezing, had even said carbonate sickness was the last way he would want to go. It was a "slow painful death that no one deserved," he had said. That had always stuck with Torian, because Dubaku was not one to back away from the kill or show mercy where it wasn't deserved. There were few lines that man wouldn't cross if the price was right but condemning someone to death by carbonate sickness was firmly on the nu draar side.

She nodded solemnly, "and now anytime I run into someone from my past the first thing they say is "I thought you were dead!" or "didn't you die?" On one memorable occasion I got "I thought you had died and I was finally rid of you." Shockingly not everyone is thrilled about my survival."

"And Mand'alor?"

"Says I am in good shape for a dead woman."

"She isn't wrong," Torian said honestly without a thought and instantly regretted it. He almost didn't want to look up and see what her reaction was, but after a few beats of silence he forced himself to lift his head.

Noara was staring at him, her silver eyes wide and mouth slightly open in surprise. Her cheeks were flushed, redder than before which was quite a feat. The alcohol had given her pale face a warm rosy glow that was now far more intense in her surprise. He met her eyes, sure his face looked as shocked as her own if not a bit more panicked, and then whether from the alcohol or the sheer awkwardness of the moment they both started laughing.

She laughed loudly and with her whole body, arms wrapped around herself as she shook with amusement. Torian was laughing with her, his a more subdued sound that was easily drowned out by her's as he watched her. He hadn't meant to say those words, was embarrassed by his lack of control and hadn't drank near enough to excuse them, but they had chased away the shadow that was in her eyes when she spoke about her captivity. Watching her wipe away tears as her laughter died down into quieter giggles he felt it was well worth it.

He was reminded again of how odd this was, the ease and lack of anxiety he felt when around her. He wasn't waiting for the other boot to drop, for her to realize who he was and turn away from him like so many had before in his life. It didn't happen as often anymore, not since his father's death, but it hadn't completely stopped.

However, watching her finish the rest of their bottle and looking around for another one, he didn't feel any of those anxieties.

"We're out of this stuff," she said, wiggling the bottle at him. "Where do we get more?"

Honestly, Torian was impressed she was still sitting upright. She had almost matched him drink for drink, something his fellow Mandos sometimes struggled with. Yet here she was, red faced and grinning in a way that betrayed her level of drunkenness and looking for more.

"Those crates over there," he said pointing to the boxes tucked against the side of a nearby tent. A few of the crates were open, one even lying on its side, so he could see the tops of the bottles still in it. "Sure you want more? You've had a lot."

She nodded, "I do. I have no idea what this is but it's good."

"It's spiced tihaar, and if you're sure I'll grab a few more." He stood up, but she waved him back down, eyes fixed on the box several yards away from them.

"I can get them," she said, stretching her hand out in front of her.

He watched as three of the bottles slowly slid out of the crate and gently started floating over to them. He was trying not to be impressed. In theory he knew the Force could do this and she had done far more impressive things in battle earlier, but to be as batnor as she was and still have that kind of control? It spoke volumes of how skilled she was.

Two of the bottles landed on their table with a soft clink and the third went directly to her open hand.

"Interesting use of the Force," he commented casually as she opened her newly acquired bottle.

Noara looked up at him and grimaced, "I know. Master Doran would have my hide if he saw he using it like that."

"Master Doran?"

"I was raised in the Jedi Enclave he oversaw on Naboo. He was a stickler for only using the Force in "proper" ways." She took another drink and then handed him the bottle.

"The Jedi raised you? What about your family?" He asked, "where your parent's Jedi?" He honestly didn't know if Force sensitivity ran in families or not.

"I don't know my family," she said, tapping her fingers in a random rhythm on the tabletop. "The Order took in kids that tested Force sensitive as young as possible. I don't remember ever not being in the Order's care, but I think Master Doran told me I was not quite two when I was brought to him."

"And after you were grown, you never looked for them?"

Noara shrugged, "never thought about it much, wouldn't even know where to begin. I don't know where I was born, and Starspark is a name I chose, not a family one. The Jedi Code warns against attachments and the Order discourages having contact with our families to make it easier to avoid them." She paused, accepting the bottle back with a thankful smile, "I even think all their records are gone now, they were stored in the Coruscant Temple and it was barely more than rubble last time I was there."

Torian frowned at the casual way she spoke. To a Mandalorian not having family, not having a clan, that was a terrible fate. It was even in the Resol'nare and the Canons of Honor, the codes by which all Mandalorians strove to live. Loyalty is life, for without one's clan one has no purpose.

He knew she couldn't understand how horrible her words sounded to him, that the Jedi Order actively denied their members their families. Even her name had been stolen away. Despite the troubles he inherited from his father, he couldn't imagine not having the knowledge of where he came from, it was the foundation of the man he had become.

"Hey," she said, leaning across the table to poke him in the arm. "Don't look so glum. It's really okay."

Torian frowned at her, "you have no clan Noara, no family. To a Mandalorian that's a terrible thing."

She shrugged, sitting back in her chair again, "it's easier to accept when you know your family didn't love you enough to keep you."

"What?"

"I know some believe the Jedi steal babies, force families to give them over and resort to tricks if they don't comply, but that's not true. Unless the child is in a situation where they are in danger because of their gifts, which sadly happens more than I like to think about, every Jedi initiate is freely given. Our families may have loved us, but not enough to keep us."

She said it matter-of-factly, like it was just another part of life and for her, he supposed, it was but it made him feel almost sick. The idea of a family, or even a clan, deciding that they did not want their baby enough to keep it was alien to him. Mandalorian's cherished their children, their lineage, deeply. It was often said "nobody cares who your father was, only the father you'll be," though, he mused, that wasn't held true when your father was a traitor.

Torian leaned forward, wanting to try and explain to her why this bothered him. He wasn't sure why, but he felt it was important she learn that families weren't supposed to just give up their children.

"Noara-" he started when her head snapped up and she jumped away from the table. At the same time Torian felt something invisible, the Force he assumed, shoving him away from the table hard enough his chair toppled over, and he only just managed not to fall on his ass in the dirt. He had made a startled sound when she pushed him and was about to demand an explanation when two Mandos crashed into their table hard enough to buckle the legs underneath it. They had been roughhousing and got a little carried away.

And she knew they would fall on the table before they did. He looked up at her in poorly disguised awe as she stepped around the two on the ground to hand him the single bottle she had managed to save as well.

"Sorry if I startled you," she said with an apologetic smile, "but better startled than bruised I think."

He waved her apology away, drinking what was left in the bottle she had handed him and looking around at the party. It had gotten to the part of the night where most Mandos were either asleep where they fell or playfully fighting. Usually he would be in the thick of it, he was almost always up for a good natured spar, but tonight he hadn't even noticed what the others were doing.

Noara had also been looking around, seemingly surprised that this was how a Mando party winded down. "I think this is my cue to turn in for the night. Thank you Torian for seeing me through my first Mandalorian party."

He laughed, "don't thank me yet, you might not appreciate it in the morning."

"I think I'll be okay," she said. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight," he said as she walked away. Her shuttle had been parked on the other side of the camp but there was enough light that he was able to watch her until she disappeared into the ship. Satisfied that she was safely inside for the rest of the night, he turned back to where several of his vod where having an all-out melee now. He spotted Khomo as was one of the participants and grinned before moving to join them.

He could use the exercise and who knows, maybe he would get a chance to deck Khomo for calling Noara a whore.

Mando'a Translations in order of appearance:

Vod: Comrade
Tihaar: A strong clear alcoholic drink made from fruit
Jetii ad'ika: Jedi + little one or lass, he is roughly calling her "little Jedi girl" in response to her addressing him as a "big tough Mandalorian"
Aruetii: Outsider, foreigner
Skraan: Food
Parjai: Victory
Vercopa: Wish, dream
Cabur: Guardian, protector
Mesh'la: Beautiful
Burc'ya vaal burk'yc, burc'ya veman: Similar to "A friend in need is a friend indeed." Literally means "a friend during danger is a true friend"
Uj'alayi: A dense, sweet flat cake made of ground nuts, syrup, pureed dried fruit and spices
Uj'ayl: A thick scented syrup used in cooking
Nu draar: No way. Absolutely not. Never in a million years. Not on your life.
Batnor: Drunk
Resol'nare: Six Actions, the tenets of Mando life

5/13/18 Note: I edited and added to this chapter before posting chapter 3. The biggest change other than a little rewording and typo spotting is the Bounty Hunter Torian worked with's name changed from Votino and Dubaku (because I have written about him and really don't want to have to keep two side oc's straight when I am not sure how much I intend to use them).