FIC: Haat'Mand'alor be Yaim'ol ~ Star Wars ~ Obi-Wan/Jaster ~ Mature ~ Chapter 2/10
Title: Haat'Mand'alor be Yaim'ol
Fandom: Star Wars
Author: Batsutousai
Rating: Mature
Pairing: Obi-Wan Kenobi/Jaster Mereel
Warnings: Time travel, canon-typical violence, fix-it (apparently), not everyone dies/some live, the Kaminoans are the worst, Jaster is the Mand'alor we deserve, character death, the clones deserve better, Jaster has 3 million grandkids, mental manipulation, Mandalorian culture, Mandalorian morality, an excessive amount of murder (of Kaminoans), Jedi culture respected, Jango needs a hug, Rex needs a hug, Fox needs a hug, EVERYONE GETS A HUG (except the Kaminoans), asexual Jango, nonbinary clones, trans clones, polyamory mention, disabled characters, happy ending
Summary: Jaster Mereel doesn't die on Korda VI, but is instead thrust forward thirty years to Kamino.
Part One Fucking LJ, tho
They found Jango and one of the adult clones-who somehow seemed larger than Jango, and Jaster honestly couldn't tell if it was a product of their armour, or if they were actually broader and taller than his ad-both holding an adiik who couldn't be more than four, while a clone of twelve or thirteen huddled behind the adult clone and peeked around them to look at the three tall, long-necked beings glaring down at Jango and his ade. Kaminiise, Vhonte had called them, and now Jaster understood why the Mando'ade on Kamino had taken to using the -ii suffix for the species.
"-poor quality-" one of them was saying as they came into earshot.
"Jan'ika," Jaster called as Vhonte stepped aside, letting him continue forward to stop at his ad's side.
"Where's the jetii?" Jango demanded in Mando'a, as if his hostile tone might hide the incremental relaxing of his shoulders when Jaster had spoken.
"Speaking with someone called Lama Su."
"Good to know jetiise are helpful-" Jango was snarling, before he was cut off by the 'THWOOM' of an explosion, followed by the shrill blare of alarms.
"Those are the laboratory alarms!" one of the Kaminiise shouted, and all three of them spun and took off at an ungainly run.
"I will bet you a week's worth of rations that was Ben," Vhonte offered cheerfully.
"No betting," Jaster ordered. "Someone see the children to safety."
"Buir-" Jango started.
Jaster shot him a sharp look, and by the way he shut up, he hadn't needed to see it, to guess that Jaster wasn't in the mood. "This ends tonight," he said, flat and icy. "It should have ended years ago."
Jango's shoulders went up, buy'ce hunching down slightly, and he said, "I'll take the children. Seventeen-"
Jaster grabbed his shoulder before he could finish turning away to accept the older adiik from the adult clone. "Jango Fett Mereel," he snarled, "your place is with me."
"I can't!" Jango shouted, and then let out the hiccupping sound that meant he was trying not to cry, distorted, but still recognisable to Jaster, even through his buy'ce's modulator.
Jaster shifted his hand to the side of Jango's neck, giving a gentle squeeze. He forced his voice to come out gentler as he asked, "Why not, Jan'ika?"
Jango hiccupped again, then blew out a harsh breath, modulator crackling with the sound. "My contract," he said bitterly. "I can't kill anyone on Kamino, nor act in any way that would endanger the project."
"Kriff our contracts, Fett!" Kal shouted. "You're letting a piece of flimsi dictate your morals!"
Jango went stiff under Jaster's hand. "Your contract was on flimsi," he said, low and furious. "Mine was with a dar'jetii."
Jaster felt the words like a blow. He'd told Jango, when he was still an adiik, all the stories of the dar'jetiise, the way they had reneged on deals with the Mand'alore of their past, had exploded stars and wiped out entire peoples just to prove they could. Cautionary tales, reminders that, no matter how sweetly they spoke or the promises they gave, they were never to be trusted.
Jaster desperately wanted to shake his ad, to demand to know what Jango had been thinking. But, there were more important matters at hand. He blew out a hard breath of his own, then squeezed the side of Jango's neck again. "We'll talk later," he said, and the edge of Jango's buy'ce pressed into his wrist in a nod. "Take the children to safety."
Jango took a step back, away from Jaster's hand, and he let it drop. "Seventeen," he said to the adult clone as he shifted his hold on the adiik in his arms so he could take the other, "comm your siblings and the CCs, have them arm up and meet you in the labs."
"You sure, Prime?" the clone asked, something cautious about their tone.
Jango snorted and jerked his head in a nod. "This is my parent, Jaster Mereel." The clone stiffened, head jerking up so the visor of their unusually-shaped buy'ce pointed at Jaster. "They have command. I'll tap the CTs if I need help."
"CTs," the clone muttered, disgusted, before giving a jerky nod. "I understand." Then they tapped the side of their buy'ce-activating an internal comm, Jaster suspected-and fell still as Jango took the two adiike back through the crowd of Cuy'val Dar, the older ad following. The Cuy'val Dar parted for them, a silent audience to Jango's shame.
Jaster let himself look after his ad for a moment, then turned to the clone and waited until they turned back to him before asking, "How many of you speak Mando'a?"
"Prime taught us Alphas, we taught the CCs-the command clones-so they should be fluent or near enough to it to understand battlefield orders." They jerked their head at Kal. "And Skirata taught their assholes."
"Ordo wants to rip out your spine through your nose, too," Kal informed the clone.
"Ordo already lost that fight," the clone replied flatly, before turning back to Jaster and knocking a fist against the centre of their chest. "I'm Alpha Seventeen. Seventeen, for short."
"Well met, my grandchild," Jaster replied, and Seventeen straightened. "Your siblings know to meet us at the labs?"
"Yes."
"Good." Jaster glanced over Seventeen and the array of Cuy'val Dar. "I don't know where I'm going," he reminded them all drily, switching back to Basic for the sake of the non-Mando'ade, although neither of them looked particularly confused; Jaster suspected they'd been around spoken Mando'a long enough to have picked at least some up.
Vhonte snorted and clapped a hand against his bes'marbur as she stepped past him to take the lead.
Chapters One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine Ten Glossary
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