KEYnote: So as I was reading your comments I realised exactly what makes this story still a time travel and what makes this Obi-Wan sooooo much different than Legends Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan, son of Tarre Vizsla, is a feral motherfucker. He started this game at eight years old and before that idolised the Mand'alor. Given all the Sith still running around in his time before Bane took care of it. Because yes, my friends, Obi-Wan is older than Darth Bane, being gifted at war was prized by the Jedi so long as they could do so while remaining in the light, which wasn't really questioned in any practical sense before his time.
AN: This chapter was stupid difficult to write, please give me your ideas, requests… I'm maybe going to pull some of the Integration themes in, but for Death Watch, if any of you have read some of Millberry_5's works.
Chapter 15 - Worse Than
Obi-Wan had not been formally trained as a Shadow, but his buir had taught him that the best way a Jedi could fight on their own was as a Shadow.
As an assassin if need be.
You won't always have an army at your back, ner Obi'ika.
Technically, Obi-Wan did have army, but they were kids, and he didn't want to risk them any more than he needed to.
Before Tahl had been injured, they had been doing raiding parties. They snuck in, they snuck out and killed anyone who tried to stop them. But now that Tahl was bedridden?
Lightsabers were not stealth weapons. So Obi-Wan used his duel knives that were a beskar alloy. Unlike his armour, the two blades had passed unnoticed.
Even the slaver's in Bandomeer had forgotten to check his boots for them.
Fools.
Obi-Wan spared no one when he went out at night.
He didn't target ware houses, he targeted homes of the guards.
Typically, a healthy population was made up of a near even number of men and women. But when you've prioritised war over health care and you let your women be soldiers?
Among the Elders, there were more men than women because terrible health care would affect women, or people like Obi-Wan, more than men.
It was a small relief that there were no more babies being born on this cursed planet.
This planet that had turned Obi-Wan into a general, that had turned him into an assassin, and that would take another buir for him if he couldn't find a long-range communicator.
At least, Master Tahl was able to drop into a healing trance, and they had cauterized the wounds after Obi-Wan had pulled out all the shrapnel.
The memory of doing battlefield surgery on his Master, on other children younger than himself, in a sewer would haunt him for the rest of his life.
Killing?
Killing wasn't pleasant, but it felt like justice.
The pain and fear of the children here?
That was torture, something everything in him rebelled against.
This, he did not hesitate in his motions as another Elder's throat split beneath Obi-Wan's blade. He caught the dying man so the sound of the body dropping wouldn't alert anyone to his presence.
There wasn't much of use in the apartment, but there was a clean load of laundry. Clean sheets that could be used as bandages and fresh blankets that would help keep them warm and replace the rags they had been using. He got luckier in the refresher room, where there was an unopened first aid kit and hygiene products.
Including a full bottle of soup.
One of the first things Master Tahl and he had implemented when they joined the young was being strict on hygiene as much as possible in their conditions.
Obi-Wan bundled up everything he could and escaped out the second floor window.
By the time anyone realised the Elder was dead, the blood would have run cold and Obi-Wan would be long gone.
oOo
Once upon a time, a Mandalorian fell in love with Jetii.
They did not live together, but through their love, they were never apart.
One day, the Jetii joined his runi on a campaign and he was captured along with his runi's warriors.
They were captured by a dar'jetii, a Sith. The Sith was after the Jetii's teacher and the Jetii refused to break, no matter the pain he endured.
Cruel and sadistic, the Sith became distracted and wanted the Jetii to admit his emotions for his Mandalorian lover.
So the Sith began killing the Mandalorian warriors.
The Jetii would not admit his love.
Once warriors were killed, the Sith grew bored. The Sith held a jetii'kad to Jetii's neck and asked, "What will you do to stop me? Will you truly do nothing? Have you no love even for yourself?"
"My life was never worth more than theirs. I will not betray them now," the Jetii answered.
The Sith tried once more, turning his blade to the Jetii's lover, and said, "Tell me you love him, and I will spare him."
"For love of the Force I will not betray my people or his path."
The Sith snarled, "Mando, you have no one left to defend, tell me who the Jetii's Master is."
"For love of him," the Mandalorian admitted readily. "I will not betray the Way."
And so the Sith killed them both and gained nothing.
Jango stared at the text.
"Really!? That's the story!?"
"It's not a story, ad'ika. It's history."
"What was the point in reading this? What was the lesson here, the Jedi did nothing wrong." Jango said. "The Sith was obviously lying. He would have killed them all anyway."
"The lesson, ner ad'ika, is that the Jedi don't admit weakness. They are ashamed of their emotions and more loyal to the Order than their people."
"I don't agree," Jango said, putting down the data. "I think the Jetii was being clever and trying to protect the Mandalorian lover as best as he could."
"And how do you reason that?" Jaster asked.
"The Jetii was tortured and stayed strong, while his lover was merely killed. There are worse things than death, Buir."
Jaster turned away from his desk and thought on his words, "I see your point. But I think you'll find that our histories are more often bloody than not."
"Buir, most of Mandalorian history is bloody."
"Correct, but these histories are why the Ka'ra touched are treated so ill today. It is important you understand them and never underestimate what our people, the Jetiiese, and the Sith are capable of," Jaster said.
Jango sighed, before going back to his readings.
The next story was about a Sith who disguised himself as a Jedi.
It was disturbing.
oOo
Qui-Gon Jinn listened to the True Mandalorians.
Their Mand'alor's second, Montross had murdered Feemor. Qui-Gon's first attack had failed, and now that he had longer to plan, he decided that Montross's death wasn't enough.
The man would die at the hands of his "true" Mand'alor, and the Mand'alor would lose his son as his empire fell around him.
The radical group, Death Watch, were easy enough to manipulate.
Qui-Gon chuckled as he listened to one of the recordings of Mand'alor Mereel speaking with his son.
"He's so careful," Qui-Gon said in a voice that was not wholly his own. "So paranoid. Yet not enough so."
Xanatos smiled beside him, joyous as their plan took form before them.
Attacking the Mandalorians head on had been a mistake. He hadn't had the numbers, and regrettably, they were warned now.
But Qui-Gon could be a patient man when he wanted to be, and smuggling the cultist Mandalorians into range of the Haat'mando'ade's campgrounds.
The men gave him odd looks from the tilt of his helmet at his talking to himself.
Qui-Gon paid them no mind as he sat in the dirt, reaching out with his mind to monitor the camp as they wound down for the night.
Xanatos out right chortled, as Qui-Gon reached out to the Mand'alor's son as he slipped into a deeper sleep.
All Mandalorians deserved death, Montross most of all. The rat bastard had hid behind the Mand'alor's son and it had been quite clear to Qui-Gon that that's exactly where he would remain.
Going through Ad'alor Jango Fett was an easy objective.
According to Vizsla's spies, this night, Montross was responsible for the Ad'alor's safety.
Xanatos chortled once more as Qui-Gon began to weave the Mand'alor's worst nightmare. His young Padawan was a tangible presence beside him, more real to Qui-Gon's senses than the Mandalorians. Whereas his first Padawan was a wash of shimmering light.
Despite being a phantom of light, Feemor looked as if he was going to be ill as he paced in front of their unlikely band of temporary allies.
"Be at peace," Qui-Gon whispered into the night. "You will be avenged."
His Padawan looked at him with pain, "This is not you, this is Darth Revan's obsession within you, Master. Please, Master Qui-Gon, come back to yourself."
Xanatos knelt beside Qui-Gon, brushing a lock of his hair aside so he could rest his chin on the larger man. "He's our Master, Fee, stop being such a pathetic weakling."
Qui-Gon sighed, "Boys."
But even as he reprimanded them, he smiled fondly.
He had missed them so much.
oOo
Feemor sat down cross-legged in front of his Master, reaching out to him but unable to touch as he continued to plead with him, "Master, please, do not do this. The Mand'alor is not trained but he is a scholar, he has the potential to lay down centuries—"
"They killed you," Qui-Gon snarled.
Feemor's heartbreak was clear in his blue eyes, "Please, Master, this isn't you."
Xanatos snorted, flopping down next to Qui-Gon, resting his head against the man's knee. His Force presence glowing with life as he ate from the energy Qui-Gon was bleeding into the Force.
"He has it coming," the young shade said. "You heard him, he's ready to judge us all no matter what happens."
"The Mand'alor has a right to be afraid," Feemor protested. "He can sense the Darkness. He can feel it threatening him and his son. You're about to punish him for not fearing us enough."
"Because of him you dead. Because of the Mandalorians, you both are dead. I will not forgive it."
"Qui-Gon," Feemor tried again. "Please, if you do this to an untrained Force sensitive you could drive them both to madness."
Qui-Gon seethed, "They killed the younglings. They tortured you to death. Got off on your suffering, why shouldn't the leader be punished for allowing his men to do that kind of evil?"
The Mandalorians dressed in blue who could only hear a third of this conversation, shifted uneasily in their hiding spots.
Feemor blinked back tears, "Master, Jaster Mereel would kill Montross if you but spoke to him. You do not have to hurt his son to frame a man who is already guilty of horrific crimes. Mereel could change the entirety of their people, make it so no Force sensitive is ever condemned in this system is ever made to hide or be punished as he was, or as his son may be."
Qui-Gon paused at this, it was something new to focus on, "What?"
"Jaster's people were superstitious, can you not see it the Force, the scares laid upon him? Like so many bright and vibrant Ka'ra touched, hidden away, punished for being born blessed."
"He does the same to his son," Qui-Gon answered. "Why do you ask for my pity for such abuse, Padawan mine?"
"Because he's not trying to harm his son! He's trying to protect him from a society that could very well turn on him if Fett too is exposed as Ka'ra touched! Master, do not let vengeance prevent the good this man could enforce if given the opportunity."
Xanatos sneered, "As if they would ever listen to you, Master. Better to kill them all."
"That goes too far, Padawan mine. I will not be Revan's puppet beyond the grave," Qui-Gon said as shook his head, contradicting his early stated goals.
"You already are," Feemor said. "Do this and you will start a war."
"Nonsense," Qui-Gon said, Revan's hold on him was already bone deep.
"You will break Mereel's mind," Feemor annunciated each word, trying to make him understand, see sense, reach the man beyond the darkness and grief.
Qui-Gon tsked, "No, apprentice, I will simply give a reason to fear."
Qui-Gon Jinn had no way of knowing that his expression was not his own nor could he hear the shift in his own voice.
A voice belonging to a man who had eradicated the Mandalore Empire and nearly broke the Order and galaxy to do it.
Xanatos gave Feemor a smug look, able to have more influence here as their Master was consumed by darkness. But Xanatos wasn't trying to be helpful, no, he was quite pleased with being able to push their Master ever closer to madness. Ever closer to being consumed by a shadow of the past.
Feemor had been taught that Sith holocrons were dangerous, but he never imagined this.
It was enough to make a person wonder that if the Force did have a will, then did that mean the Darkside had a plan as well? One perhaps easier and more seductive to listen to.
It was frustrating to watch as a shade, his influence over Qui-Gon remaining because his Master could not let his memory go.
Suddenly, Xanatos was beside Feemor, whispering into his ear, "You were the perfect one, older brother. The one who was Knighted, but we will see which one of us is victorious in the end."
Feemor gave the boy a pitying look, so broken that even death was not an escape for him.
"It was never a competition, brother."
Xanatos's sneer was inhuman as he said, "It was your devotion to the well-being of others above yourself that failed you."
Feemor glowered at him, "Your failure as a Jedi had nothing to do with me and everything to do with your own conceit. Qui-Gon loved you, but he nor your father could ever love you enough to fill the greed in your heart."
"I could have been anyone," the younger man hissed.
Feemor raised a brow, "And yet you chose vengeance over life."
Xanatos smiled, "Oh you sweet, sweet paragon of light, both our paths led us to the same destination. And my ambitions are far from discouraged. There is no death, only the Force." He opened his arms and laughed as Qui-Gon tuned them out. "And here shall the Force set me free!"
oOo
After months of Jaster taking over negotiations of the new contract with the Stewjonians since the murder of the Duke's son, things had finally settled in the True Mandalorians' favour.
Satine was furious that her father had allowed Jaster to take control of the planet's protection.
The Duke had even sworn the Resol'nare to Jaster as the Mand'alor, Mandalore's one true leader –very much against his daughter's wishes.
For Jango's part, he was just glad to be back on Concord Dawn, away from both the Stewjoni and the New Mandalorians. He had been afraid that the negations had fallen apart if they learned his buir's secret, or Jango's secret, that they were Ka'ra touched.
But they had managed to keep it together, and now True Mandalorians had the backing of the Stewjoni, which meant they were the largest political player of the Mandalore system now.
Jango's own troubles had been shushed up among their clan and he had done his best to keep from communicating with his soul-marked.
Because his buir was right.
Obi-Wan Kenobi was dead.
Had been dead for a thousand years.
Of course, purposely disrupting his own sleep had its own consequences. It was truly easier than it should have been. Worry for what it meant that he might be Ka'ra touched, sorrow at the realisation that Jaster had been so negatively treated for being Ka'ra touched, and worry over their campaigns against the Death Watch.
He was older now and had his own squad, separate from his buir's now, to lead.
Despite what happened to the Duke's son, things remained relatively stable with the Jetiiese. But the video that someone had managed to spread to discrete their clan of what happened to the Jetiiese younglings had done their movement no favours.
The Jetiiese had still given Jaster their blessings, but the Republic Senate refused to acknowledge his rights over the system, still doing business only with Duke Kyrze. Duke Kyrze who counterwise wanted nothing to do with the Jetiiese.
If the Jetiiese were upset to be at odds with their Republic, they made no voice of it from the updates Jaster received from Jetii Master Mace Windu and his ad, Depa Billiba.
The footage of the attack on the Jetiiese younglings, still haunted Jango's own nightmares.
He couldn't get the images of the torn up remains out of mind.
The symbol of the Haat'mand'ade had been carved into his memory with blood and bone. Jango had seen blood before, seen death too often, but he had never seen something so… so sadistic.
Not violence or berzerker chaos, but deliberate and exacting deconstruction of a man and his three adiike.
The placement of the littlest bones…
Jango rolled over on the bed, wrapping the pillow over his head as if he could smother the images from his mind.
Mandalorians had done that.
Mandalorians had done that to Jetiiese and adiike, not because of who they were because they were Ka'ra touched.
How could he tell his buir everything would be okay when he had lost his family because of the Ka'ra? Not to death but because in some of their people's eyes being Ka'ra touched was to be Dar'Manda.
How could he look Jaster in the eye and tell him anything that came at them he could handle?
And then there was the actual damage the Jetiiese or dar'jetiiese could do.
The one who attacked the Kryze Palace had had karking lightning! Had magic that killed a prince with a wave of hand. Not even intentionally, but causally, a collateral to his true aims.
His true aim, by all appearances, being Jango himself.
He fought for breath and eventually managed to unclench his muscles enough for his exhausted mind to slip into sleep.
Into dreams.
When he opened his eyes, he knew he wasn't in reality, his every instinct was thrown into high alert.
He was standing knee-deep back in one of the Stewjon's rice fields not far from the village they had been staying at.
Obi-Wan stood not far from him, barely recognizable, his cheeks gaunt from hunger and stress. He was looking around them with a slight look of horror.
"Isn't this your homeworld?" Jango began, unable to keep the bitterness from his tone.
Obi-Wan, if that was his name, jumped, blinking at Jango. "Ah, well, not exactly. I was born here, yes, but my mother died giving birth to me, and the pleasure house told my father to come and get me or they would drown me. So, I wouldn't call it home."
"But you recognise it," Jango stated.
"Of course. Stewjon has a lot of poachers, even in times of peace. Buir took me here to help me learn the importance of self-defence training. Not that the elders wanted to teach me, but he felt it was my right. We stayed for a few months. I never planned on coming back, despite the friends I made."
Damn Jango's curiosity, he had to ask, "But you did come back? Before this, I mean."
Obi-Wan nodded, "My biology is comparable to others, but it was necessary for me to return for a coming-of-age ceremony, and for one of their healers to give me a physical. It's actually illegal, you know, for me to have one off-world."
"What?" Jango asked.
"For a physician or healer not from Stewjon to treat a Stewjonian, is illegal in the Mandalorian system. Typically, Stewjoni never leave, so it's not a problem."
Jango frowned, "But you did leave, you were forced out."
Obi-Wan gave him a sad smile, "My buir made a lot of exceptions for me. Ordinarily, I would have been exiled, executed, or expected to fall on my own sword if I made it to adulthood without being known as Ka'ra touched. But my buir was the planet's primary protector. I was an exception and barely tolerated. Truthfully, I think the only reason no one tried to murder me while we were here is because, unlike the rest of Mandalorian cultures, bloodlines matter to the Stewjoni. To have one of their blood in one of their protectors… well, it was security, even if I was Ka'ra cursed."
Jango winced, "I wish it wasn't a curse."
Obi-Wan shrugged, "Darth Revan screwed everything up. Some view him as a saviour, but the Stewjoni? When the Mandalorian Empire was destroyed by the hands of the Order… things got bad for a lot of people and stayed bad. Bad enough that even three thousand years later people still remember."
"Four thousand," Jango corrected.
Obi-Wan frowned at him, "What–" He shook his head, his expression turning serious as if he was remembering why he was here. "Never mind that. Jango, I need your help."
"Help with what?" he asked warily.
"The planet I'm trapped on is caught in a civil war. Only, they've been at war off and on for hundreds of years and now it finally reached a point that all their people of warrior age have been killed, now it's their Elders against their Young."
"How young?"
"The oldest, aside from myself and Master, is thirteen–or maybe fourteen. We haven't been keeping track of the calendar year."
"Your Order won't help?" Jango asked, unable to keep the doubt from his tone.
"I can't reach them," Obi-Wan explained. "Ad'alor, please, I'm begging for your help. We crash landed here and they actively destroyed their own technology. I can't reach my people."
"How do I know this isn't a trap?"
Obi-Wan looked confused, "What? What do you mean?"
Jango yanked up his sleeve, "You marked me."
Obi-Wan saw the Jetii mark and huffed. The Jetii turned his head away and pulled down his collar to reveal the mythosaur, the sigil of the Haat'manda'ade inked in blue on his pale skin.
Jango blinked, "We really are soul-marked."
Obi-Wan shook his head, "Jango, I don't care why the Ka'ra brought us together. All I know is that I have over four hundred children who need your help. I can't voice the number we lost because I am overwhelmed. My Master is dying, please I need your help."
The pleading in formal Mando'a made Jango's heart twinge with guilt because he knew this was a trap, and yet he couldn't help the part of him that still resolutely believed in Obi-Wan.
"Where are you?" Jango asked despite himself.
Researching the matter wouldn't hurt, right?
Obi-Wan named the sector before saying, "I don't actually know what the official name of the planet is. Part of the war is whether they are the Melida or Daan. No one among us is old enough to remember what the truth is."
Jango let out a breath, "If my buir agrees, we will come."
Obi-Wan smiled, skin pulling taught over his cheek bones. "Thank–" he began only to cut off mid-word as his expression fell and his shoulders stiffened. "Do you feel that?"
Jango felt a swell of foreboding grab his heart.
Fear darkened Obi-Wan's eyes as he turned back to Jango, "Run."
"What?" Jango asked.
"Run!" the other boy yelled as day turned to night and the darkness from the tree line grew like a wave about to crush him. "Jango, go, go! Please run–"
Obi-Wan disappeared from sight, swallowed by the dark before Jango could convince his feet to move.
The other boy being silenced, disappearing into a rushing wave of darkest ink, had him spinning on his heel.
He didn't make more than a few strides before he tripped in the rice paddy water, falling, falling…
Jango gasped awake, running hands over his face, panic seizing his heart as his mind tried to process the expectation of drowning in a foot of water.
Jango got to his feet sharkily. He could still feel it. The darkness.
Jango gathered himself. It didn't take much thought as he yanked on his boots, not bothering to clip on his armour as he exited his tent.
Jaster would know what to do, his buir always knew what to do.
The night felt alive and even as he made his way toward the commander's tent where Jaster was instead of sleeping, Jango found himself led in a different direction.
He came to a halt, as he crossed into the threshold of the trees. He couldn't remember how he got here, couldn't remember choosing to go this way. It was the exact opposite of where he needed to be.
And it was dark.
So very dark…
Run!
Obi-Wan's voice echoed in his mind.
Jango turned to do just that when he was grabbed by a fully armoured commando, a hand going over his mouth to silence his exclamation as a needle was plunged into his neck.
A sickeningly familiar voice spoke in his ear, the cold beskar of a helmet digging into his shoulder.
"Oh, how fortune favours the bold," Tor Vizsla purred through his vocalizer.
Jango wanted to fight but whatever drug he had used was strong, and something more insidious than a simple sedative. Jango's limbs became leaden sacks of sand at his side.
"Don't worry, Alor'ad'ika, you will not die this night," Tor said. "I have something far more fun for you in mind. A fate worse than death, as some might say."
The monster's laughter followed Jango into an abyss where there were no dreams, only darkness.
oOo
AN: Thoughts, parakeets, or feedback, pretty please?