Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Komari isn't entirely sure what in the kriffing hell is going on, but she knows she hates it. 

The Mandalorians had known they were coming, been far better organized than expected, dug in with traps set. Her Master had been about to order a withdrawal to seek an accord when the first shot had rang out, at which point things had somewhat devolved. The Jedi were all competent warriors, but they weren't a military body, and that meant that discipline and strategy could be somewhat…lacking, and instead of withdrawal there had been a charge. 

Komari had managed to bring down a fair number of the Mandalorians regardless, as had her Master, but the death toll for the Jedi had reached a high enough point for a retreat to be issued. Komari doesn't know when the last time a true and proper force of Jedi had been ordered to retreat from the battlefield in all honesty. A pair, sure, but fifty? If it had happened since Master Yoda ascended to the Council, Komari hadn't read about it. 

But that wasn't why she was mad. No, she was mad because as the retreat had sounded the kriffing Mandalorians had trapped her in a net and dragged her off. She'd watched as her Master had tried to give chase only to be forced back by coordinated fire, but then someone had shot her with a damned tranquilizer and she'd passed out before she could try to free herself. 

Now…now she's in some sort of cell, her lightsabers are gone, her wounds have been treated and bandaged for some reason, and she can't feel the Force. It has been with her all her life, lightening her path and filling the air with song, and now it was gone. 

She looks around. The cell is…nice, so far as these things went. She woke up on an admittedly nice bed, everything was clean, and she had enough space to pace angrily. It could have been worse. And she supposes better to be captured and stripped of the Force by Mandalorians than by Hutts. But that doesn't mean she has to be happy about it. 

As she paces Komari notices movement outside the cell. She turns and blinks at the sight of a man she recognizes from Master Dooku’s debriefing. Jaster Mereel sits down in his chair and stairs at her, flanked by two bodyguards…or something. She's not sure if the Mand’alor has bodyguards, officially. Mandalorians are weird like that.

They stare at each other in bristling, awkward silence for a moment (okay, maybe she's doing all the bristling) before Jaster speaks. “How old are you jetti?” Komari stares at him for a long moment. Well. She hadn't expected that.

“Sixteen.” That's not mission critical information, so she sees no problem in handing it over. One of the Mandalorians behind Jaster, a woman, hisses though, and the other hands money over to her. 

“Well that makes things a little better.” Jaster says. “Would be awkward as hell if you were an adult and my verde had just misjudged.” Komari blinks a few more times. 

“I'm sorry, you captured me and took away my ability to use the Force because I can't legally drink?” She demands angrily. 

“Strictly speaking you can't legally do a lot of things at your age.” Jaster drawls. “And we didn't take it away, the cell you're in is just also home to some rather fascinating lizards that can block it off. A jammer, not a removal.” Komari frowns at this, looking around. Now that he mentions it, there is a clear cylinder running around the perimeter of the cell, and if she squints she can make out wood and…something that could be scales. She shakes her head and refocuses. 

“I know your code, you people let fourteen year olds go to war!” She protests, annoyed. 

“As part of a squad alongside and guided closely by actual adults, in specific circumstances, and in kriffing beskar'gam.” The woman who'd gotten the money snaps back. “Not running wild with nobody watching her back and clad in nothing but gods damned fabric!” Komari stares, wide eyed and taken aback, and Jaster waves a hand, signaling the woman to calm down before turning to regard Komari again. 

“A little tactless, but more or less accurate.” He confirms. “And our code dictates that when the enemy employs child soldiers we do our best to remove said children from that situation. Hence…” he trails off and gestures at the cell. Komari stares at them in bewilderment. 

This is…just cosmically unfair. And…maybe a little too similar to arguments people had made at the Temple when Master Dooku had announced he was taking her, but she's not going to think about that too much. Yan Dooku was the greatest Jedi in the Order and that's all there was to it. 

“I feel like the number of your soldiers I killed should cancel out my age. I got, like, ten.” 

“If you give a toddler a rocket launcher they could kill a score of troops. Doesn't make them an adult.” The Mandalorian who hasn't spoken yet, also a woman apparently, points out in a reasonable tone. Komari glares at her, then shakes her head. 

“Okay, so, what, I stay in this cell until I'm eighteen or my Master rescues me?” She demands. 

“Traditionally these things result in adoption.” Jaster drawls. Komari freezes. 

“You can't be serious.” 

“Well keeping you locked up isn't a viable option. Returning you to the Jedi before you're an adult also isn't.” Jaster explains, calm and…Force help her, entirely serious. Oh gods, she's never going to hear the end of this, Qui-Gon is going to be insufferable. 

“...or you could just treat me like a hostage and use me as leverage in your negotiations with Master Dooku like a normal person.” Komari suggests. 

“You're a child. Did you even have a say in coming out here or do you have to follow your Master everywhere?” The more…passionate of the two Mandalorian women asks. Well…demands. Snaps, really. 

“Master Dooku would have left me behind if I'd asked him to.” Komari snaps back. “I'm not a slave, or his…his pet!” There's a long moment of silence and Komari realizes that maybe all three Mandalorians recognize that she would never have asked to be left behind. She is…maybe more open than a Padawan of Master Dooku should be. Oh well.

Jaster stands up. “Your Master has already commed in, requesting to talk.” He says shortly. “Get some rest kid.”

“I am sixteen!” Komari snaps, glaring at him. To her dismay the man just chuckles and walks away, his guards following, leaving her alone with the damn lizards. 

OoOoO

Yan Dooku eyed the data presented before for another long moment, then nodded and bowed deeply to Jaster Mereel. “I see that both the Senate and the Order have failed grievously in this matter, Lord Mand’alor.” He said. “I thank you for your forbearance with regards to retaliation. The Order has funds, should financial compensation be necessary. Weregild, I believe is the term.” The leader of the True Mandalorians looked at him, then nodded. 

“I will speak with those who lost, and see what is desired. Your volunteering such is appreciated, Master Jetti.” The man said calmly. “If you have the numbers for it, I believe your aid in putting down the Kyr’stad who pitted us against each other would be a good step in putting this behind us as well. My people might find that a greater balm.”

That fit with what Yan knew of the Mandalorians, he had to concede. “I will need to speak to those who came with me, but I believe that to be agreeable.” He said, nodding once. “Will you give your word that no retaliation will come towards our wounded while I and my fellow Jedi help you fight this…Kyr’stad?”

“You have my word.” Jaster replied immediately. 

“Very well. I will have a report on how many are willing and able to fight tomorrow.” Yan said. Then he took a deep breath and plunged into a more personal matter. “Your people took my apprentice captive at the end of the battle.” He said, his voice as flat and even as he could manage. Jaster nodded once. 

“She is safe. Locked in a Jetti cell, but safe and being taken care of.” 

“You will release her.”

“No.” 

Yan blinked at the flat response. After the fairly reasonable negotiations thus far, he hadn't expected that. 

“And why not? If it's her death toll, as her Master I am more than willing to accept responsibility and take whatever punishment you feel she has earned.” Yan pressed, but the Mandalorian simply shook his head. 

“The Supercommando Codex is very clear about what to do when the enemy puts ad on the field.” His voice turned wry. “I should know, I wrote it.”

Yan mulled that over, then gave up. “Ad?”

“Children.” Jaster explained, his voice flat. “We don't kark with child soldiers.” Yan bristled at the judgement he heard. 

“Komari will be a Knight and sent into the galaxy on her own in a few short years. The opportunity to fight against an adversary better equipped and better trained than pirates was invaluable.” He said. “And I think you're being rather hypocritical, Lord Mand'alor.” Jaster stood rigid. 

“None of mine on the field today were under the standard age of majority for their species. Not to fight Jetti.” He said calmly. “And even if they had, I rather think the Beskar of my people provides far greater protection than the robes of yours.” Dooku glared. “You said her name was Komari?” Jaster Mereel continued, ignoring the glare of a Jedi Master. “She'll be staying with us for now. Once Kyr’stad is defeated we can negotiate a middle ground.”

“There is no middle ground on this.” Yan warned him. 

“No children on the battlefield.” Jaster says firmly. “We will discuss her future at a later date, or we will keep her without any input from you.” Yan glared, then nodded curtly. Given the weakened state of his and Jaster’s forces at the moment, and the fact that he'd failed to adequately guard Komari to begin with, he supposed he didn't really want her to take the field against a second force of Mandalorians so soon after her first fight.

“Very well. After.” He concedes, and cuts the transmission. He needs meditation, he decides. Meditation…and brandy.

Chapter Text

Komari stares at her Master for a long, long moment. “I'm sorry, I thought you just said you wanted me to stay here.” She snaps incredulously. Master Dooku nods. 

“I'm afraid that is indeed what I said, my Padawan.” Komari can't stop the snarling noise that escapes her mouth. “The terms of peace Mand’alor Mereel dictated were quite clear. You will stay with him and his people for eight months of the standard year for the next two years.”

“What do we need a peace agreement for?” Komari demands. “You went and killed the actual enemy! Everyone knows we got tricked and you helped kill the people who did the tricking, case closed!” Master Dooku sighed. 

“No Komari, the case is not closed. Tor Vizsla, the leader of this Death Watch, escaped. But more immediately, over a score of the Haat Mando’ade lie dead because the Senate failed to do their proper research and we Jedi failed to realize the problem. There is very much still recompense to be paid.”

“So I'm that recompense?” She demands incredulously. “Like some princess in a cliched holonovel?” 

“Komari.” Master Dooku snaps, in the tone that always makes her sit down and shut up. He takes a few deep breaths. “I have my own reasons for wishing you to do this, beyond the mere technicalities.” Komari sat up straighter in her chair. If Master Dooku had personal reasons, that changed things. “I know that Galactic History is not your favorite subject, but you know of the times that Mandalore has united and waged war on the Republic and the Order.” Komari frowns and nods, trying to figure out where her Master is going with this. 

“Right now Mandalore is torn between the New Mandalorians, the Death Watch, and Mereel’s True Mandalorians. Should the True Mandalorians fall, the pacifism of the New Mandalorians is unlikely to prevent conquest by Death Watch, which would put a band of warmongering, pillaging slavers in charge of the Mandalorian system…and all the raw Beskar in the galaxy.” Komari’s eyes widened at that. She wasn't as…politically minded as her Master or Qui-Gon, but she could see the picture her Master was painting. 

“Jaster Mereel wishes for you to stay here to satisfy the demands of his code…and perhaps for the opportunity to create a Mandalorian Jedi for the first time in centuries. I wish for you to stay here to keep an eye on this Death Watch. Mandalore is not in the Republic, and they are not fond of the Jedi. As the recent issues have demonstrated, that is an unacceptable status quo. You will be the Order’s eyes and ears here, to let us know if the balance of power tips in favor of a faction that would undoubtedly seek galactic conquest once more. Can I trust you with this task?” 

Komari nods, quickly and rapidly. “Yes Master, of course. I understand.” He nods once. 

“Let me be very clear, Padawan, I am not asking you to spy. Your talents do not lie in the Shadow’s path.” Her Master drawls, and Komari flushes but nods. “It is not Mereel's secrets that interest me, but the goings on and maneuvering of his enemies. Think of yourself as those foolhardy and intrepid reporters in those ghastly holodramas you made me consume with you.” Komari grins and taps the glass between them with her foot. 

“I knew you liked them.” She teases. All that gets her is a disdainful sniff, which makes her grin widen. Then she pauses and says, plaintively, “Don’t tell Qui-Gon.” Her master snorts. 

“We haven’t spoken in some time. And he has his own Padawan now, so I imagine he is quite busy.” He reassures her. “That being said, I will have to inform the Council, and I can’t do anything about any…gossip Master Windu might spread.” She groans. “And given his…personality, I would expect Rael to do a…welfare check in a few months when word gets to him.” Komari hangs her head. 

“I’m going to be a decrepit Elder and still hearing about this.” She laments.

“I do not blame you Komari.” Her Master says soothingly. Komari looks at him cautiously, and he nods once. “You performed admirably for your first true battle, even if the circumstances were unfortunate. And many Jedi far older and more experienced than you have fallen to Mandalorians. There is no shame in your current circumstances.” Komari takes a breath and slowly nods. 

“Thank you Master.” Master Dooku inclines his head and stands.

“May the Force be with you Komari.” 

“May the Force be with you Master.” 

OoOoO

Two days later an incredulous Komai stood in the center of a training salle. One dedicated to unarmed combat, Komari suspected, given the padding covering everything and the lack of weapons anywhere. Jaster Mereel was leaning against a wall nearby, and across from her stood his heir, Jango Fett. Komari wasn’t sure if the term son applied here or not, and she wasn’t interested in stepping in that tangle of culture. “You want me to beat the shit out of him.” She repeats. Jango scowls and Jaster snorts. 

“I want you to demonstrate where you currently stand for hand to hand combat.” The Mand’alor corrects. Then he smirks. “But if you can beat the shit out of him, by all means.” Jango shot him a glare, and Komari suddenly realizes she’d gotten it wrong. They were Master and Padawan. That made more sense. “Begin.”

Komari’s eyes widen as Jango moves, and she has to hastily bring an arm up to block the punch aimed straight at her face. She snarls and kicks at his stomach, pushing him back with a grunt as he twists to lessen how much of him her foot can hit. She follows with a right hook, catching him in the chin. She takes a blow to her side in return but she ignores it in favor of giving a left cross. 

Jango staggers back and she grins at him, then gasps as Jango lunges forward, tackling her to the mats. “Karking bantha!” She snaps, gasping as a fist hits her kidney before biting Jango’s ear. The snarl he gives in response to that is music to her ears, even if it does get followed with an arm pressing down on her throat. She lashes out with her legs and fists, but his superior bulk is making actually accomplishing anything like this tricky.

“Enough.” Jaster said, a couple seconds after Komari’s vision started getting kinda blurry. Jango immediately gets off of her, and Komari gasps for breath. She slowly sits up, and Jaster moves to be in her line of sight. “Up.” Komari nods and pushes herself up to her feet. Jango blinks once, then gives a nod of…respect maybe. She guesses he’d expected her to stay down longer. “Go.” 

Jango rushes in again, but Komari has a better idea of his speed now and braces herself, taking his punch in trade for a jab straight into his face. Jango staggers back half a step and Komari pursues, raining punches on his face and stomach, keeping him moving, his arms a blur as he tries to block. A sweep of his legs sends Komari dancing back, breaking her rhythm, and she grunts as he jabs her in the stomach, retaliating with a headbutt that has them both shaking their heads but only Jango staggering backwards, giving Komari room for an uppercut that sends him to the ground. 

“Is punching the only thing you know how to do?” Jaster asks suddenly as Jango lurches back up. 

“I kicked him!” Komari protests, then grunts as Jango tackles her again. “Bitch!” She’s ready for it this time, and brings both of her elbows down into the middle of his back. Jango growls and headbutts her stomach, making her gasp and roll to the side before popping back up. Jango swings a kick at her head, but she catches it and punches the inside of his knee, holding back just enough to ensure she doesn’t pop it out of the socket. Jango curses and falls as she lets go, but he’s back up than she would have expected and suddenly she’s pinned again. 

“Enough.” Jaster says again, and a panting, growling Jango withdraws. Komari sits up a little slower this time. “I’m going to take a wild guess and say your buir favors the lightsaber.” Komari doesn’t know what a buir is, but she thinks she gets the context and nods.

“Master Dooku is the best in the Order when it comes to lightsaber combat.” She says proudly. “But I could have kicked his ass if I was using the Force.” Jango snorts and she grins at him as she stands up. 

“Show me.” Jaster says calmly. Jango blinks in surprise, but Komari doesn’t need to be told twice. She thrusts her hand out and Jango goes flying back into the padded wall of the salle. Then she shoves that same hand down, and the Force pins the fallen Jango down hard enough that he starts swearing and glaring at her. 

“Wouldn’t be that efficient if I didn’t open with that.” Komari concedes. “Harder to focus when I’m being punched, which is why we use lightsabers. But I could have gotten him off me.” Jaster nods once as Jango drags himself to his feet.

“Still don’t know how to use anything but your fists and your face.” He mutters as he returns to the center of the room. 

“I’m kinda busy with lightsabers and the Force, plus all the other stuff. Jedi don’t get to just be warriors, oh versatile meathead.” Jango gives her a silent snarl, and Jaster snorts.

“Enough sparring for today.” He says smoothly. “Get cleaned up.”

“I can keep going!” Jango protests. 

“You can beat up your vod'ika later.” Jaster says with amusement. Komari really needs to learn Mando’a. “You have marksmanship practice, and she needs to learn the Resol’nare.” Jango glares at them both, and Komari eyes Jaster.

“Resol’nare?” 

OoOoO

Komari sits in another room, this one spare, clean, and quiet. Jaster Mereel stands before her. “The Resol’nare. The core of what it means to be Mandalorian. A sacred law giving us direction and purpose. If you’re to live with us you’ll need to learn it, what it means to us.” 

“You say that like I asked to be here.” Komari drawls. Jaster nods.

“I’m not asking you to swear any oaths or compromise your Code. But it’s important that you know what drives us if you want to make it out of this with all your teeth ad.” Komari nods once. She supposes she can see the logic. “Ba'jur bal beskar'gam, Ara'nov, aliit, Mando'a bal Mand'alor—An vencuyan mhi. Education and armor, self-defense, our tribe, our language, our leader—all help us survive.” Komari blinks and nods slowly. 

“I think you forgot some of that the last few times you tried to take over the galaxy.” She drawls. “But…not bad.” She wouldn’t have guessed education or language to have gotten mentions. Jaster snorts.

“Glad you approve jetti’ka.”

OoOoO

Yan stands impassively before the High Council. He’d known this was coming, of course. The Jedi he’d brought on this cursed mission had had enough to say about his decision to agree to the Mand’alor’s demands regarding his apprentice. Given the speed with which he’d been called before the High Council after arriving, he had the suspicion that Qui-Gon might learn about Komari’s situation sooner than he’d reassured Komari would be the case. 

“You did what?” Ki Adi Mundi demands, bringing Yan’s thoughts back to the present. Yan looks at him

“The Senate and the Order both failed in our duty.” He says sharply. “As a result, some twenty three Haat Mando'ade lie dead, because I trusted the Senate and led our fellow Jedi into battle under the assumption that obviously every bad thing I heard about a Mandalorian was true. Under the circumstances, Mand’alor Mereel had the right to demand far worse.” 

“The power to demand more, he does not. Power you assigned him, without consulting others.” Yoda says carefully. Yan turns his attention back to his old Master. 

“Kyr'tsad, the Death Watch, are a powerful faction in Mandalorian space at present. They are a violent, barbarous group, a throwback to the Neo Crusaders of old with a stated goal of appealing to an older, more prosperous time, of returning to the imperialism of Mandalore of old in the face of the present ecological collapse. I believe them to pose a potential and significant threat to the Republic. As such, I chose the path that would leave the Order with freedom to move through Mandalorian space, and leave someone I trust to report if the situation should worsen.”

“You can’t just give other people custody over your Padawan without consulting anyone, Master Dooku.” Mace Windu retorts. Yan inclines his head. 

“Were it anyone else I would not have even considered it. But I do truly believe this to be for Komari’s benefit. She will be tempered by these experiences, and gain some time feeling her way without me, but with more safety nets than she will have as a Knight. And it will be good for her to be forced into a position of watching and learning first and foremost.” The High Council doesn’t seem pleased with his declarations, but Yan didn’t expect them to be. The more important question is if they’ll try to override him.

“Approve of your decision, we do not.” Yoda says finally. “But accept it, we do.” Then he tilts his head. “More to say, I believe you do.” Yan nods once.

“I would like to officially recommend that the Order reach out to Duke Kryze, with an offer to have the AgriCorps investigate the ecological collapse of Mandalore, and to see what might be done to halt it.”

“And why do you wish this?” Windu asks.

“Eyes and ears in Mandalorian space, and an effort to turn the opinions of the Order around in the region. Mandalore is at a pivotal point in its history, one which could result in the return of an empire clad in Beskar. And I do not trust the Senate with this. The investigation I conducted after was far too open and shut. We were played, an expectation that distance and prejudice would lead to blindness. And it worked. I do not wish for it to work a second time.” There was a long moment of silence after that. 

“Reasonable, your suggestion is. Deliberate it seriously, we shall.” Yoda says at last. Yan nods and settles back into his chair.