Sitting in the middle of a large celebration Obi- Ben looked around at the joy filled mando'ade and had to shove down another wave of disquiet. He hid it well as nervousness and shyness, at being new and unused to the rambunctiousness of mando'ade soldiers, but that wasn't the truth of it at all. Honestly it was hard to separate what he knew should have happened and what had actually happened. What O- Ben had stopped from happening.
In his own timeline, at this point, the True Mandalorians would have been simmering in rage and wallowing in grief at the loss of their leader. Looking at one another with uncertainty as a young Jango Fett was tailed by Myles, trying to fill the enormous hole left by his recently deceased father. The fact that he might have been force sensitive had never crossed anyone on the council's mind. Yet the mando'ade knew, even celebrated, their force sensitive brethren.
Just from where he was sitting he could see one of the warriors using the force to keep a stack of dishes in place, balanced on their head, as another continued to build onto the stack. A group nearby were betting on how many items could be stacked before they lost control and how long they could hold everything before they lost focus. Jaster's explanation, that the Manda was an actual outside power much like the force, made a little more sense now that he'd felt it first hand.
The power that had swept through him when he swore the Resol'nare was both foreign yet familiar, like an old friend. He had been startled when he realized he had, indeed, felt such a thing before. Back on Mandalore… after he had realized he was beginning to fall in love with the colorful culture of the mando'ade. It was like some large feline had settled possessively in his breast, purring contentedly and welcoming him home.
It made his memories of what Satine had eventually become, what she had done to secure her power, all the more distressing. Although he still couldn't come to regret his love for the young woman who had only wanted the best for her people he grieved what she had done to her own culture. Destroying a culture was one of the most insidious ways to kill a people. Especially when you made celebrating that culture a punishable offense.
"Ben, if you ever want to change clans just say the word." He turned his attention back outward and looked at the warrior who'd spoken to him. A human male with golden skin and deep brown eyes smiled at him playfully, words slurring a little. Someone had been imbibing the tihaar a little too much. "Speak the vows with me and it'll be all taken care of." He chuckled, feeling flattered by the attention. So far this was the third proposition he'd received, although it was the first one asking him to outright marry them. The other two had been an adoption and an offer to share a bunk for the foreseeable future.
"Nope, nuh-uh, shoo! Go on, get!" Myles said, gray eyes sparkling with mirth. "You leave my vod'ika alone!" Ben scoffed.
"I beg your pardon, I am fairly certain I am older than you." The man grinned at him.
"Doesn't matter. You're the foundling, that makes you younger than me. It also makes you my responsibility." He couldn't help the smile those words pulled from him as others nearby grumbled about how unfair it was that Myles had 'poached' him.
It was, admittedly, a little odd that so many of these people were suddenly so invested in getting to know him. When he'd shown up in their camp they were on the verge of attacking him on sight. Only the Mand'alor at his side kept them from doing anything rash. Thankfully, as he'd spoken with Myles, he had felt their emotions shifting from active aggression to defensive aggression and, after helping Jango, to a wary acceptance and budding interest.
They knew he had been a jedi, they knew he had the force, and yet none of them were afraid of it. Of him. Not everyone was as perfectly open and accepting of him, people were all different after all, but none of them were rejecting him outright. It was quite surprising but at the same time very… comforting.
"Just because he's Clan Vhehn now doesn't mean you can keep him to yourself." Growled Jango as dropped down on the bench next to Ben, handing him another glass of ne'tra gal. He chuckled and took the new glass of ale with gratitude. "You're still going to teach me, right? So we can find Arla." Jango muttered just loud enough that Ben could overhear him. He paused, the drink set against his lips.
Should he teach Jango how to use the force? The boy was already so angry and considering what he had done… no. He couldn't think like that. What Jango had done in the future was a moot point. This Jango hadn't lost his father to a traitor and been forced to become a leader at fourteen out of necessity. He hadn't lost everyone he knew and loved before being forced into slavery for years. He was just a boy of fourteen who had already lost one family.
Ben promised himself, and the force, that he would do all he could to prevent the war from his own timeline. The force was nudging him to join the mando'ade, to help them and in doing so help stop the return of the Sith… Another thing he needed to speak with Jaster about in private.
"Yes, Jango, I will teach you." He promised. On his other side Myles choked on his drink before he started to laugh. Ben looked over at him but his new… elder brother he supposed, just grinned at him.
"Teaching the next generation already?" Something about the way he said it made Jango feel equally amused in the force, although Ben had no idea why. "Jan'ika you're a sneaky little shit." The teen barked a laugh and held up his glass in a mock salute.
"So are you, Commander Vhehn. Buir's still pissed about that stunt, by the way, but once he figures it out he'll probably go easy on you." Myles made a face but nodded. None of which told Ben anything.
"I do believe I am missing something here." He said lightly, looking between the two of them with narrowed eyes to show how much he did not appreciate that fact.
"You'll understand eventually. Just another thing whoever taught you Mando'a seems to have forgotten about." Myles said offhandedly, waving away his confusion. "By the way, Jan'ika, do you know where Jaster went? He just vanished all of a sudden." Jango shrugged.
"He said he remembered something he'd forgotten about earlier and disappeared into his quarters. I think he's in the kitchen now though," the boy tilted his head, as if he were searching for something. Ben recognized what he was doing and smiled into is cup. "Yeah, he's in the kitchen. Not sure why." He frowned in concern but didn't get up from his seat. Myles just took this information in stride and returned to his alcohol.
"Ben! Help us settle a debate, would you?" A group of three warriors strode over, shoving others out of their way and stealing the bench across from he, Jango, and Myles. "My vod'ika here heard that the Jetiise are pacifists but my riduur here disagrees with him, thinks its a stupid rumor. So what's the truth?" Ben blinked and set his drink down on the table, frowning slightly.
"As people who have a strong connection to the Force the Jetiise can feel the lives of everyone around them at all times, some of them go so far as to be able to feel every single insect." There was a hush around him as people turned to listen. "Feeling someone's life get cut short can be mentally and even physically painful, depending on the Jetii and if they had any connection with the other person. As a whole they prefer to act as diplomats, researchers, and teachers. The vast majority of them are made of entire corps dedicated to mapping safe routes through the galaxy, growing food, and giving medical aid. The ones you might meet during a more violent mission are most probably Jedi Knights." He spoke the words in basic, since there really wasn't an equivalent in Mando'a. "They make up the warriors of the Jetiise. I can assure you that they are most certainly not made up of pacifists." He chuckled.
"You were a 'Knight' weren't you?" Someone piped up.
"I was a Master, actually." There was a feeling of confusion from more than one person and Ben chuckled. "A Master is a Knight that has raised a student to Knighthood. You'll know the students by their braids or a special set of beads and decorations hanging from their head if they are without hair. Once a student has passed their trials there is a ceremony where we cut the braid to show the student's growth. Often that braid is gifted to the teacher, although not always."
"Did you gift your teacher your braid?" Ben tried to hide a grimace but he could feel their curiosity and wariness. They wanted him to be open with them, so they could learn to trust him. He sighed and looked at the speaker.
"In a manner of speaking. I passed my Knighthood Trial by killing the one who killed my Master in front of me." More than one of the gathered warriors winced and the one who asked the question gave him an apologetic look. "After the Council cut my braid I place it on my master's funeral pyre." A melancholy settled over everyone and he had no doubt that some of them were remembering their own loved ones who had passed away.
"Has anyone explained Remembrances to you?" Myles asked him. Ben nodded.
"Yes I… I know about Remembrances." A hand landed on his shoulder and he looked down into a pair of amber eyes filled with understanding. He swallowed, mind conjuring up another set of eyes that were far too similar.
"Well this is a depressing atmosphere." Thankful for the distraction he turned and grinned over at the Mand'alor. The man willed people out of his way, a trio of covered plates on a tray between his hands. Taking the place across from Ben that had been vacated Jaster set the tray down. He set a dish in front of Jango then Ben then himself, shoving the tray off to the side. Ben caught a whiff of spices that tickled the back of his nose and looked down at the dishes. Jaster set down some cutlery as Jango perked up.
"Buir? Is this-?" Jaster nodded.
"Ben mentioned he liked tiingilar, so I thought I'd make some as a welcoming gift." He shrugged, trying to look nonchalant, but it seemed a little stiff. Next to him Myles covered his mouth with his hand, his eyes crinkling with mirth. Jango's jaw dropped and he looked between the plates, Ben, and his father.
"You. You made tiingilar. As in Mereel Clan tiingilar?" Ben wasn't sure why Jango would find that so strange or surprising. As Jaster's son wouldn't he be eating Mereel Clan recipes? Yet those around him also seemed a little startled by this news.
"I did. I remembered I'd kept some of my spices in reserve but since we're heading back home I can just buy more when we get there." Jango leaned forward so he could stare past Ben to Myles. They shared a knowing grin and Ben wanted to sigh.
"None for me, Mand'alor? I'm hurt." Myles teased as Ben lifted the lid off his dish and took in the rich scent of spices. Jaster pointed his fork at the man, giving him a mock glare.
"No. This is a treat for Ben. Besides, Clan Vhehn has terrible taste in tiingilar, you'd just complain." Someone nearby started to laugh as if that was the funniest thing in the world and eventually everyone was laughing along.
"Jas'buir, please don't get into a feud with Myles over food." Jango begged, sounding both pained and embarrassed in that way only a fourteen year old could. "I'm sure Ben will like yours better anyway." He snorted and decided to play along.
"Oh, we'll have to see about that, won't we? I might be able to eat bland rations like the next warrior but I have very refined tastes, I'll have you know." Jango's mouth fell open and Jaster's expression became determined, a glint of steel entering his eyes as he straightened in his seat.
"Those are fighting words, Ben." The Mand'alor growled at him without anger. Ben chuckled.
"One of the Tenets is loyalty to ones Clan, Mand'alor. I can't very well have you insulting my new ori'vod and not lift a finger to defend him, now can I?" Jango snickered and Myles grinned triumphantly.
"I have such a wonderful vod'ika. Such a gift. He'll make Clan Vhehn very proud some day." Ben finally broke down laughing with the others at the overly dramatic way Myles was acting, pretending to wipe a tear from his eye.
Picking up his fork he gathered a single morsel from the dish and blew on it to cool it before delicately placing it in his mouth. He knew the others were watching for his reaction so he played it up a little. Until the spices actually hit and he let out a low sound of appreciation. There was a nice tingle on his tongue and a sharp bite that eventually gave way to a smooth smokiness. Across from him Jaster was eying him with a downright wicked smirk, giving off a faint sense of triumph in the force. He rolled his eyes and swallowed the bite.
"Alright, I'll admit that this is the best tiingilar I've ever tasted. Don't let it go to your head though, I've only ever had street food from vendors in Keldabe and fancy dishes from upscale restaurants in Sundari." Suddenly he was bombarded with questions about where he'd been and what he'd been doing on Manda'yaim. He cursed himself for mentioning it.
"When were you ever on Manda'yaim? Is that where you learned Mando'a? You do have an odd mix of Mando'a and Laandur Mando'a…" He winced at the last question. He knew that some of his words were a little off, having learned them from Satine with her New Mandalorian leanings. Well, before she refused to speak Mando'a at all.
"When I was a jet'ika my master and I were sent to Manda'yaim to guard a wealthy heiress who had returned from schooling on Coruscant after the death of her father. Her family was being targeted because of their New Mandalorian leanings. The mission parameters were private so I cannot speak of it in detail. But my master and I spent a year on Manda'yaim, primarily in Sundari, guarding her. It's where I first learned Mando'a." He grinned playfully, hoping to divert their attention from the vagueness of the information. "Of course I found out there was another city that supposedly housed true mando'ade, the kind that the jetiise have always been wary of. I was sixteen at the time and quite adventurous. It was in Keldabe that I was introduced to the culture, not the watered down version that the New Mandalorians claimed it should be." He heard a few grunts and saw nods of agreement and approval.
"Well, now that you're one of us we can fill you in on all the things an Outsider wouldn't have been allowed to learn about. Like certain… cultural practices." Myles said with a mischievous grin aimed at Jaster. The Mand'alor's ears pinked slightly and he could feel a twinge of embarrassment from the man. It was a surprise, really, as Jaster had some of the most impressive mental shields he'd ever seen, and that wasn't even taking into account the power that coursed through him, protecting him from passive readings in the force. If Ben wanted to read him he would have to focus quite hard on the task, and Jaster would most certainly be able to feel the intrusion.
Not that O- Ben would ever do such a thing. That was an invasion of privacy.
"Finish your food, Ben. The baar'ur said you're underfed and need to gain some weight. No one argues with the baar'ur, not even me." There were chuckles and a few shudders of dread from the gathered warriors and Ben laughed. Picking up his fork he started in on the meal with the appropriate amount of gusto.
Later that night, after the day long festivities were over, Ben Vhehn stared at the ceiling above him in his quarters and contemplated on the force. From the moment the ship had been torn in half and his padawans, yes he considered them both his padawans regardless of what their titles and relations actually were, had been ripped from him he expected his life to be once more filled with despair and hopelessness. Feeling their bright lights winking out of existence had shaken him to the core of his very being. He had been well prepared to die at every moment in the war but he had not been prepared to lose two of the people he cared about most.
Then the Force itself had intervened.
He saw the galaxy as it was and what it could become. Saw it with a clarity he had never heard of before. At first he thought he had been the one to become one with the force and thanked it for only taking him, not his children. Then the Force opened itself to him and he began to See.
The veil was ripped away and he watched as things he was never privy to before played out before his eyes. He watched as Jango lost everything he'd ever known for the second time and was forced into slavery. Watched as Dooku was seduced by the darkness in the wake of Qui-gon's death. Watched Satine as her grief and guilt consumed every waking moment of her life, pushing her toward more fanatical beliefs in a paranoid bid to never feel pain or loss ever again.
He saw what Anakin had done on Tatooine. The atrocity he committed and how the Chancellor, the Sith Lord they had been hunting for, had begun twisting his beloved padawan against the jedi.
He watched the darkness as it coalesced into a black hole of selfishness and hatred so strong all of Coruscant was corrupted by its mere presence.
'No more!' Cried the Force, before it reached out and saved its beloved champion from the jaws of death.
And wasn't that just the most interesting part? It was not Anakin that the force chose to save the future of the galaxy, but Obi-wan. A man who had lost everything, who had been brought low so many times, yet still held firmly to the light even as the galaxy fell apart around him. Who refused to let himself fall to hatred and would give everyone a second chance if he was able. A man who loved with his entire being while never letting it become a possessive and selfish thing.
It had been humbling to see himself in that light.
'Change.' The Force has soothed as it slowly cradled him in the aftermath of the crash. 'Trust.'
Then it had reached deep inside him and brushed against something. A bright flame like a miniature star that burned with fierce determination in his breast.
It was only now, alone in his quarters, that he finally understood what had taken root inside him, what had been there all along.
It was the Manda.
Obi-wan Kenobi was gone. He had died when the Larty he'd been in was ripped apart by enemy fire and crashed on some forlorn battlefield. In his place was Ben Vhehn, reborn from the ashes of war.
And Ben had a mission to complete. One he would not, could not, fail.
Mando'a;
Tihaar- A strong clear spirit made from fruit, like eau de vie.
Ne'tra gal- Black ale, a sweet, almost spicy black beer similar to milk stout.
Vod'ika- Younger sibling, or a friend one considers to be like a younger sibling.
Riduur- Spouse, life partner, husband/wife.
Tiingilar- Spicy caserole.
Laandur Mando'a- Delicate/Fragile Mando'a. Used as an insult for anyone who uses a softer, less aggressive, version of the Mandalorian language.
Jet'ika- Padawan
Baar'r- Medic, healer.
Larty- Slang term for a LAATi troop transport.