batsutousai | FIC: Haat'Mand'alor be Yaim'ol ~ Star Wars ~ Obi-Wan/Jaster ~ Mature ~ Chapter 10/10 ~ COMPLETE

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.

A/N: Jaster backs the Jedi Order, and the potential wedding is discussed.

When they were all called back almost an hour later, Organa opened with, "The removal of the restrictions placed on the Jedi Order will require a full Senate vote."

The jedi didn't look surprised—they didn't look much of anything at all, honestly, all wearing the same politely interested expression—but, by the smirks Jaster could see some of the senators wearing, this announcement would be taken as a way to put off doing the right thing. Very likely, they were hoping to see the vote fail, preferably after this treaty was finalised.

Jaster did his best to keep his scowl off his face and out of his voice as he said, "Perhaps it is best this discussion is put on hold until that vote has finished."

"The Senate isn't currently in session, Mand'alor," one of the senators pointed out. "Nearly half of the Senate is currently off-world; it will be at least a week before they can be recalled and the vote held."

Jaster raised an eyebrow. "I can wait," he said, although he would very much prefer to be back on Manda'yaim, than trapped on Coruscanta. "The jedi and I can further discuss this proposed marriage and determine if and how it will be viable. And, should it be my son getting married, he will have time to start the trip here."

"And if this marriage is not deemed viable?" another senator asked, something almost slimy about their tone.

Jaster allowed himself to smile with teeth. "B'arin made a most excellent point," he told them as he slowly stood. "Given this body's initial intentions towards my grandchildren, I would be a fool to trust them in space governed by those who consider it proper to place an entire people under what amounts to house arrest, allowed freedoms only at the discretion of said government, to do their bidding. Therefore, senators, you may henceforth consider voting on and the removal of those restrictions a prerequisite for the continuation of these talks. Mhi ba'slanar," he added to his Mando'ade, and they got up, nearly as one, and headed for the door. Turning to the three jedi, he said, "At your convenience, Councillors, I can come to you, or host you in my provided rooms," while the senators finally exploded into a new round of shouting.

The three jedi traded looks, and then Windu and Rancisis smoothly got up, while Obi-Wan turned his chair. "We had anticipated being here all day," Rancisis commented. "It is convenient now to, at the least, begin our discussion. Perhaps over an early lunch? I've been informed that the food service in the Senate's guest suites is superb."

"It is well enough, for food served within the core," Jaster allowed as he joined the three and they followed the rest of the Mando'ade from the room, leaving Organa to manage the senators.

Obi-Wan snorted and, once they had left the room and the doors closed behind them, cutting off the shouting, said, "Mandalorians tend to prefer their food come with a bite."

Rancisis chuckled, a low, friendly sound.

Obi-Wan glanced at Jaster and said, in Mando'a, "They're aware of our relationship."

Jaster raised an eyebrow at his riduur.

Obi-Wan sighed and added, "It wouldn't have been right to join them without letting them know."

Ah. Jaster coughed to hide a smile, although the glance Obi-Wan shot him said his riduur wasn't fooled. "You thought it would make them rethink their offer," he guessed, because he knew how much Obi-Wan had despaired at the thought that he would be granted his mastery for some reason other than knighting Anakin, such as for killing a dar'jetii, and expected he had been just as reluctant to be added to the Jet'alore.

Obi-Wan's sigh was answer enough.

Because they were moving at Rancisis' speed, Jaster wasn't surprised when Llats appeared ahead of them, clearly intending to come back and ensure Jaster escaped safely. They blinked once, and then guessed, "Guests?" in Basic.

Jaster hummed and nodded. "It seems so. Make sure the kitchens know to send up enough food."

Llats tapped their fist against their ka'rta beskar, then turned and left.

Rancisis let out an interested hum. "Forgive my curiosity, Mand'alor, but that particular motion is a sign of acknowledgement?"

Jaster blinked, then shrugged and explained, "It's more a sign of respect, a salute."

"Ah."

"Anakin picked it up from the clones," Obi-Wan said by way of explanation.

Jaster chuckled. "Ade have a habit of doing that," he pointed out, and Obi-Wan's pale eyes lit with amusement. "Were there any other mannerisms he picked up that your alore were curious about?"

It turned out there weren't any more mannerisms—at least, none that Rancisis or Windu thought to enquire after—but there were some turns of phrase that had spread through the Temple. Some had had their origin in Mando'a, but others had been picked up from other members of the Cuy'val Dar.

The conversation got them to Jaster's suite, which he keyed open, then waved the jedi in.

Jaster was, admittedly, a little surprised to find that no one had attempted to drag Kryze away—or, if an attempt had been made, it had failed, for once—and regretted that, if only because his sitting room, which had once felt unnecessarily spacious, now felt almost too-small. It also—with the two extra chairs turned up for their guests, one of which was shaped for serpentine species, and larger than the more prevalent humanoid chairs—meant that space was at a bit of a premium around the caf table they usually placed the shared food trays on, and Jaster sighed and asked in Mando'a, "Are we still clear?"

He got a chorus of "'Lek, Alor," in response.

He nodded, then said, in Basic, "Ob'ika, park your chair in the bedroom; you can sit with me on the sofa."

"Gladly," Obi-Wan muttered, and wasted no time moving into the bedroom.

Vhonte cleared her throat and, when Jaster glanced at her, cast a pointed look at the two Jet'alore.

Jaster didn't sigh, but it was a near thing. "They know. Kryze," he called, and she looked up at him, away from where she'd been suspiciously watching the bedroom door, "Obi-Wan and I said the riduurok a year ago."

Her already pale skin went a shade paler, her freckles standing out in sharp contrast, and she whispered, "Oh," and hunched down further into the plush chair that served as her usual seat.

When Obi-Wan limped his way over to the circle of seats, Jaster held out a hand to help him navigate the narrow path between seats and the table. It earnt him a scowl and a muttered, "I don't need help."

"Maybe I just want to touch you," Jaster replied, and Obi-Wan flushed and let him help without further complaint, although he did huff a bit pointedly when Jaster stayed standing next to the sofa as Obi-Wan lowered himself into it, serving as best he could as a leverage point.

Once Jaster had sat, Obi-Wan made quick work of unlatching the hidden clasps for Jaster's bes'marbur on that side and set it in his own lap as he leant his head against Jaster's shoulder, letting out a near-silent sigh of relief. Jaster, in return, leant his own head against the top of Obi-Wan's and closed his eyes, letting himself relax against his riduur for the first time in far too long.

"They're really spouses?" he heard Kryze whisper in Mando'a.

"Yes," Llats and B'arin chorused, while Vhonte snarled, "If I break your face, will your brain start working?"

"Vhonte," Jaster called, and was a little surprised to hear Obi-Wan doing the same thing at the same time. They pulled back just enough to eye each other, while a couple of someones started snickering.

"Yes," Windu said drily, "it's clear this political marriage is going to be a disaster. Obi-Wan, tell me this wasn't planned."

Obi-Wan huffed as he leant against Jaster's shoulder again, hand finding Jaster's and threading their fingers together. "No, Mace, I didn't plan this. It honestly never occurred to me; I don't believe political marriages are common in Mandalorian culture?"

"No," Jaster agreed. "Some clans will consider themselves united if a member of each marries one of the other or others, but I don't believe Mandalorians have married for any reason beyond love for..." He shook his head, frowning. "Well, since before the Dral'Han, at least, and I believe much longer than that."

"The Excision," Obi-Wan translated for the jedi, and Jaster saw them glance at each other and grimace.

"Mando'ade are not, as a rule, politically minded," Rav pointed out, her tone gone considering. "We support our clan and answer to our Mand'alor, if they should call on us. Some of the bigger clans might have some bit of political-mindedness, I suppose, but usually in the ways that relations with others might assist in the care and well-being of their own clan, and any clans that they owe protection to."

"The being who wins the argument is the one who pulls their blaster first," Vhonte added cheerfully.

"If we're married, that makes me Clan Mereel, doesn't it?" Obi-Wan muttered.

Jaster chuckled, while Vhonte shot Obi-Wan a wounded look. "Sorry, Ob'ika, but I'm afraid it's not so easy to be rid of your clan ties."

Obi-Wan huffed and shook his head, hair tickling Jaster's chin as it caught against the stubble he hadn't cared about enough to shave away that morning. (It was becoming a losing battle; he wasn't used to shaving regularly, since his buy'ce would hide it—his family and those Mando'ade who would see him without wouldn't say anything—but he'd made the choice to go bare-faced during the talks, which meant caring about his appearance.) "Definitely not a Mandalorian practise, and, while political marriages are technically accepted as an reason for saying vows, we've never been asked by the Republic to marry a jedi to an outside government for the sake of a treaty."

"Was your marriage not accepted before?" B'arin asked, leaning forward and casting a concerned frown between Obi-Wan and Jaster and the other two Jet'alore. "I know that senator yesterday seemed to think it was impossible for jetiise to marry, but I had assumed that was just assumption based on misinformation."

"Marriages are a...complicated matter in the Order," Rancisis said, tone careful. "The vows we swear to when we are knighted require us to put the Force first, above all else. There are very few marriage vows in the known galaxy that do not contest those priorities."

"Technically," Windu added flatly, "no, Obi-Wan's marriage should have seen him censured. However, Mandalorian vows do not conflict with our Code, and Padawan Skywalker implied that he was given Council permission, after a fashion."

"You mean," Jaster replied drily, "Yoda came in to question my intentions, and only left after making it clear he believed we should say the riduurok."

Rancisis chuckled, while Windu sighed and rubbed at the bridge of their nose. "The problem," Windu said, sounding tired, "with you being a member of his lineage, was that he liked to meddle, and there was little the Council at large could really say against it, so long as his actions remained in line with the Code."

"I cannot be held accountable for the chaos sown by my great-grandmaster," Obi-Wan replied, perfectly innocent.

Windu glared for a moment, then sighed and shook their head, mouth twitching ever so slightly. "The Council determined that the forced separation was censure enough for not seeking the permission of the whole Council, and also proof that the marriage did not stop him from holding to his vows as a member of the Order. We did, however, agree that the matter was best kept under wraps, lest other members of the Order think to emulate our—at the time of our discovery—newest councillor."

"Suffice to say, that will no longer be necessary," Rancisis said. "Although it is, perhaps, best that we continue the fiction that you were not married previously."

"I don't intend to tell anyone," Obi-Wan insisted.

Windu's eyebrows jumped upwards.

Obi-Wan coughed. "In my defence, I was high on painkillers. And it's not like Quinlan or Bant have shared the news."

Jaster chuckled. "You told your friends?" he guessed.

Obi-Wan groaned. "Anakin recorded it. Apparently, I was very insistent that I had to see them first thing."

Jaster kissed the top of his head. "I'm glad you had family who could share in your happiness and be there with you when I couldn't," he admitted.

Obi-Wan hummed. "You're only saying that because you haven't met Quin, yet."

"If you're lucky, Mand'alor, you never will," Windu said, deadpan, and Rancisis gave a grave nod.

Jaster had heard enough stories about the chaos Obi-Wan's friend seemed chronically incapable of not causing, and sighed. "I don't believe I shall be so lucky. Especially once our marriage is a matter of public record and there will no longer be any uncomfortable questions about why a jedi I should have no cause to meet is doing so."

Obi-Wan chuckled, while Vhonte—who had clearly heard some stories herself—snickered.

They were interrupted by the arrival of their slightly early lunch, which Llats and Rav dragged Kryze along to collect from the hallway, so the serving droids wouldn't come in and see one of the jedi being cosy with Jaster.

(Admittedly, they didn't tend to let the serving droids in at all, as every single one of them had a story involving a droid being reprogrammed or otherwise unwittingly used to spy on or damage the organic being they were serving; droids were very much a necessity of the galaxy, but, some days, it was easier to put forth the extra effort and have the droid remain in the hallway.)

Everyone served themselves something from the platters on the caf table, while Kryze collected and passed out glasses of water from the tiny en suite kitchen that Jaster only really used to store any leftovers, so no one had to go harass the kitchens if they were feeling peckish a couple of hours after dinner. They all spent a bit quietly eating, Rancisis letting out a quiet hum that Jaster suspected meant that they, at least, found the offering tasty.

Windu was the one to interrupt them, setting their half-emptied plate on one knee and turning dark eyes on Jaster and Obi-Wan. "The acceptability of this match is not in question," they said, just a touch drier than was probably necessary, "but there are matters that will need to be sorted out before we can formally give our approval."

"Like whether or not I'll be remaining a member of the Council?" Obi-Wan suggested, and while his voice came out perfectly even, Jaster suspected his riduur wouldn't mind particularly if the answer was that he should step down.

"I would think," Rav said mildly, "that your senate would much prefer you were, at least for the first five years or so. You having some manner of consequence strikes me as something that will give a great many of them comfort."

"Especially if it gets out that you were already adopted into a Mando clan that's in good standing with Jaster," Vhonte added grimly. "Your standing in your own government must be solid, at least until this treaty is settled into a comfortable place in everyone's minds."

"Unfortunately true," Obi-Wan said with a sigh.

Rancisis hummed. "There is also the matter of the clones' integration into the Order to consider, as you seem so certain that some will wish to find their place with us."

"They do," Jaster agreed immediately, while all of the Mando'ade—save Kryze, who lacked the familiarity that the former Cuy'val Dar members and Jaster had with the clones—made noises of agreement. "Seventeen, in particular, will be difficult for Obi-Wan to shake, and I expect that Anakin's current master will find themself with a second shadow, once Rex can get to his jedi again."

"And the Brightest Star's compliment," Gilamar pointed out. "I have never had to do so much research about Force healing magics before that particular obsession."

Obi-Wan coughed. "Yes, well, what about it?" he asked Rancisis, who looked to be smiling under their long moustache.

"Only that I suspect their integration with Temple life will go much more smoothly with you aware of as much as possible. Which may prove difficult if you spend any significant amount of time on Mandalore, unless you are in regular contact. Such as would be needed if you remained a member of the Council and were required to comm in to regular meetings."

"They aren't used often, due to the lack of need, but we do have policies in place for when a Councillor is unable to make meetings where they might be necessary, be that because they were assigned a mission that required a long absence, or that they have been laid up in the Halls and the healers insist they may not be moved," Windu added.

Obi-Wan huffed, and Jaster murmured, "If you having a secure comm connection to Coruscanta, and having to spend hours a day discussing jedi matters, are the requirements for you spending stretches of time on Manda'yaim with me, Ob'ika, I will see it done, and gladly."

Obi-Wan's cheeks pinked and he ducked his head.

"At the least, we can have a trial run," Rancisis said. "Sending you to Mandalore and having Skywalker here on Coruscant will give the clones familiar faces on both ends of their journey, and you will be able to quickly pass back comforting assurances to those who might be considering a trip to the core, but aren't completely sold on the idea."

Windu sighed and leant forward, gaze intent on Jaster's riduur. "Obi-Wan, we all know you're bored, being trapped in the Temple. Spending time on Mandalore will be a good change of pace for you, and you can always return to Coruscant when you need another change."

"If you're still desperate for something to do while on Mandalore, you can always go on a bit of a Search," Rancisis added in a tone that made it clear the word meant something to the jedi.

"Search?" Jaster repeated, even as Obi-Wan grimaced.

"I'm not sure how well a Search would be taken, in Mandalorian space," Obi-Wan said, before turning to Jaster and explaining, "Seeking out Force-sensitive younglings in regions where their midi-chlorian counts either wouldn't have been checked, or wouldn't have been sent on to the Temple."

"Child stealing," Llats growled.

Obi-Wan held up a hand. "A Search is a seeking mission, Ser Ward, not a stealing mission. If a jedi on search finds a Force-sensitive who would be considered strong enough to train as a jedi, the first thing they would do, is speak to their guardian."

"And then?" Llats demanded, shrugging off the hand Rav placed on their shoulder. "You wave your hand with your magics–"

"The Force isn't magic!" Obi-Wan snapped.

Llats' eyes glinted the same way they had before they'd decided to prove to a slaver that they had no compunctions against shooting a slave, so long as the slaver hiding behind them died.

"Gev!" Jaster snapped and, when Llats narrowed their eyes at him, he ordered in Mando'a, "Walk it off. Now."

Llats shoved themself up out of their seat and stormed from the room.

Jaster sighed and said, "I apologise," in Basic.

"Unfortunately," Windu replied, inclining their head, "the belief that we steal children is not uncommon."

"Not all Republic worlds give the guardians an option, especially if they are not, at the time, a Republic citizen," Rancisis added, sorrow clear in their tone. "Or, if the child appears abandoned, and attempts to find a guardian result in no response, or if their guardian or guardians are, themselves, a danger to the child, we will ask the permission of the local government, if possible."

"If possible?" Vhonte asked, tone much politer than Llats' had been, but Jaster could see her displeasure at the topic in the agitated twitching of her lekku.

"Qui-Gon found Anakin on Tatooine," Obi-Wan murmured, and Jaster wasn't the only Mando'ade to shift at that comment. "If his mother had been dead or otherwise missing, the closest thing to a government would have been the Hutts, and not only would the answer have been 'no', but he would have then been left with a slaver who knew he had a Force-sensitive with no one to care what happened to him."

"A fair point," Gilamar said, shaking his head. "Not all children are raised in a safe environment, and not all children who have been stolen from their parents or guardians are aware enough to point a rescuer in the correct direction; should we force a child to suffer some worlds' ideas of orphanages or government-sponsored half-way homes on the off chance that said child's parents may come forward to claim them, when they could have a home with the jedi?"

"Do Mando'ade not work on a similar principle?" B'arin added drily. "You see an ad alone, probably in danger, you're going to step in and take care of them. And probably say the gai bal manda on accident, knowing you, Tervho."

"Once," Vhonte snapped. "I did that once."

"That we know of," B'arin replied, grinning wide enough to flash teeth.

Rav cackled and pointed at Obi-Wan, who looked almost bemused by the turn the conversation had taken. (Windu just looked tired, while Rancisis had apparently taken the sidetrack as a sign that they should return to eating.)

"Did I say the gai bal manda to you?" Vhonte demanded of Obi-Wan. "No, I did not," she added without waiting for a response.

"You gave him beskar'gam. A full set," Rav pointed out.

"Adonai told me to!"

"Buir told you he would probably serve best as a member of the family guard," Kryze interrupted, her green eyes glinting with mischief in a manner that Jaster hadn't actually yet seen from her. "But he left the specifics to you. And he definitely didn't tell you to go raid the beskar paint storage."

"Unpainted beskar'gam stands out!" Vhonte insisted.

"He picked his own colours."

Jaster startled and glanced over at his riduur; he'd been assuming that, if Obi-Wan's beskar'gam was painted, it had been done to match whatever colour scheme Adonai Kryze had favoured. "What colours?" he asked.

Obi-Wan flushed. "Ah. Dark green and orange, originally, but I repainted it while we were on the run, so it's black with green accents, now."

Duty matched with a lust for life while serving as a member of Kryze's household, changed to justice edged in duty while on the run and working to remove Kyr'tsad from power. "Suitable," he allowed, and cast a considering gaze over his riduur. "You would still use green."

Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow, his cheeks still obviously pinked. "I find I'm far more fond of tans and browns, these days," he retorted.

Jaster smirked. "Paint your chair."

Obi-Wan hesitated, looking like he was actually considering that.

"I'm not going to pretend to understand any of that," Windu announced flatly. "To the previous topic, if a guardian were to agree to send their child to the jedi, they become a jedi. If they request more time to decide, it's granted. If they say no, we accept that answer and move on.

"However," they continued, "if the jedi doing the Finding is stationed somewhere, and they are able and willing, it is not uncommon for them to offer classes in meditation or other focussing exercises. Not," Windu snapped, and Jaster followed their dark gaze to where Llats had rejoined them and was in the process of opening their mouth, "as a way to forcefully indoctrinate others into the jedi way of life, Ser Ward, but because meditation and other such focussing exercises can assist many beings, no matter their sensitivity, and there is evidence that it allows those outside the Order to gain a level of control over their abilities that they otherwise wouldn't have; so children who might summon or float objects when they were upset might be able to do so at other times, and those prone to Force visions may find they receive fewer and are less drained after them."

"Force visions?" Gilamar asked, straightening. "I read something about that, while I was researching jedi healers for the clones, but there wasn't a lot of information on them. Only that they can be dangerous."

Windu and Obi-Wan both grimaced.

Rancisis said, "There are different manners in which the Force may wish to impart warnings to those sensitive to it. For most of us, we receive a sort of nudge, a hint to turn left, instead of going straight, or buying a particular piece of food from one stand instead of another." They inclined their head towards Windu.

Windu sighed. "My particular gift isn't quite Force visions, but the treatment for it is similar: I see what we call shatterpoints, convergences of important decisions or moments. When such a moment comes to pass, the Force shifts and, depending on how near to the event I am, and how important to the Force the change was, it can knock me unconscious." They shook their head, then added, "I was confined to a bed by our healers for four days, following Palpatine's death."

"Tell me that's not a normal 'gift'," Gilamar demanded tightly.

"It's not," Windu replied. "And my particular ability to see shatterpoints is stronger than any previously recorded in our Archives. We have three others, currently, with such a gift, and the strongest one had a headache for a week, but was otherwise able to function normally."

"That's a relief," their baar'ur muttered, and he did look relieved.

And then Windu raised an eyebrow at Obi-Wan, who sighed and said, "My gift is far more common, although it no longer gives me the trouble it once did; as an initiate, I often woke from visions of battlefields, barriers of red light I could not get through, and the Jedi Temple burning."

Jaster reached out to curl an arm around his riduur's shoulders, and wasn't particularly surprised when Obi-Wan leant against him.

Obi-Wan smiled grimly. "Master Yoda was called in to help, and the visions did, eventually, stop troubling me when I slept. Very, very occasionally, one will come to me when I'm meditating—I foresaw an ambush while on the run on Mandalore, which we were able to avoid—but there have been jedi who continued to be plagued by visions when they meditate, or while they sleep. A former member of the Council was even known to get them randomly throughout the day, whenever the Force saw fit to send them one.

"Visions have the potential to force a jedi to be confined to bed," Obi-Wan continued, nodding to Gilamar. "Before Yoda was able to help me, I would often fall asleep during classes, because I was unable to rest at night, and I wasn't allowed to join our combat classes if I had too many nights in a row of visions."

Gilamar grimaced. "And now? As your medic, Kenobi," he added, presumably in an attempt to head off any attempts by Obi-Wan to brush the question aside.

Obi-Wan sighed and leant a little more of his weight against Jaster. "Tiredness, mostly. I make myself an extra cup of tea and I'm fine. The last time I had a bad one was...six years ago?" he asked, glancing at Windu.

The bald jedi nodded. "That sounds about right. Skywalker panicked."

Obi-Wan let out a long, loud sigh, and nearly everyone chuckled, including Windu. To Gilamar, who hadn't even cracked a small smile, Obi-Wan said, "I was nauseous and essentially bed-ridden for two days. Mostly I slept, when Anakin wasn't coming in to check I was still breathing, or Bant wasn't trying to find something I could keep down."

"Were they successful?" Gilamar demanded, the very picture of intent baar'ur with a potential patient.

"A salty broth that was more water than anything that could be counted as sustenance," Windu reported. "But he'd also thrown up water twice, so she was a little desperate. I believe she noted everything down in his Temple medical records."

"Just what I need," Obi-Wan muttered, "Bant and Baar'ur Gilamar becoming friends."

Jaster chuckled and kissed his cheek.

"As you can see, it is sometimes necessary to teach Force-sensitive younglings some skills to manage their gifts, whether they are to join the Order or not," Rancisis said, looking towards Llats.

"I...guess," Llats agreed. They still didn't look happy, but they also no longer looked like they were about to commit violence, so Jaster motioned for them to return to their seat.

"Not a Search, then," Windu said to Obi-Wan, "but you can be a resource, for those who have questions about managing Force-sensitivity; not all students come to us within the bounds of the Temple structure, as you well know."

"I do," Obi-Wan agreed, then glanced at Jaster and quietly promised, "I'll do my best not to overstep."

Jaster hummed and shook his head. "I trust you."

"Jaster means he's still stumbling over how anti-jetii certain Mando'ade can be," Vhonte added drily. "I would say, 'You're going to have to be the sensible one', but I met your teacher."

Windu let out a loud snort—which, from what Jaster had so far observed of them, was rather uncharacteristic—then said, "We'll plan for a trial run of you being on Mandalore for a couple of months, and determine the longevity of such an arrangement after that."

"Think of it as being assigned a Watchbeing position," Rancisis added, almost musingly. "Simply with regular contact with the Council, and the source of the authority you wield will come not from the Republic, but the Mand'alor."

Obi-Wan hummed and nodded. And then, presumably aware that Jaster or one of the other Mando'ade would ask clarifying questions, if he didn't explain himself, said, "Watchbeings are those jedi who are tasked with holding a presence in a sector of space that is distant enough from the core to make it difficult to respond to emergencies, which has, in past, had cause to request such aid. Most Watchbeings are stationed in Republic space, in areas where we've had multiple reports of slavers or pirates, but there is precedent for a Watchbeing to settle in a sector held by an ally of the Republic, if they have personal ties there, or as a favour to the government in charge."

"I would, however, caution you against acting as a Watchbeing, unless the situation was dire," Windu added drily. "The healers would have all our heads for letting you near active combat, assuming we weren't too busy managing whatever political disaster came of clones or Mandalorians tagging along behind you."

Obi-Wan ducked his head and coughed.

"Are you even capable of fighting?" Kryze asked.

Jaster opened his mouth to tell her to shut up, except Obi-Wan had already pulled out the bes'kal Jaster kept sheathed in his boot and thrown it.

Kryze cursed a clapped a hand to her cheek as the bes'kal thudded solidly into the far wall and stuck there.

"Don't worry, Kryze," Vhonte said with a sharp-toothed smile, "Ben'ika has never needed fancy footwork or light swords to kill someone."

"That isn't, actually, something I'm proud of," Obi-Wan said drily as he held out a hand, and Jaster's bes'kal flew back across the room to him. He gave it a fancy twirl, beskar glinting as it caught the light, then leant forward and resheathed it in Jaster's boot.

Jaster desperately wished it wouldn't be beyond impolite to kick everyone out so he and Obi-Wan could try out the bed properly. Especially since they hadn't had sex since before they said the riduurok, and he had a sinking feeling that they wouldn't have the chance until after they'd said it a second time.

Which, it occurred to him: "You said your Knight's Code is a marriage vow?"

"What the kriff?" Rav demanded, while others among his Mando'ade let out choking noises, and Windu coughed like they were fighting back a laugh.

Obi-Wan raised both eyebrows at Jaster. "In the original Dai Bendu, yes."

"Ben'ika, how many spouses do you have?" Vhonte asked with a slightly hysterical edge to her voice.

"Why are you asking?" Obi-Wan asked Jaster, clearly intending to ignore Vhonte.

"We married in Mando fashion last time; it occurs to me to ask if there is a jedi fashion that you would prefer for the second time," Jaster admitted.

Obi-Wan blinked a couple of times, looking towards the other two Jet'alore, who also looked more baffled than anything else. "No?" Obi-Wan suggested.

"We would have to ask Jocasta to be certain," Rancisis murmured, "but I don't believe there is any sort of ancient jedi marriage ceremony on record. It is far more likely that, in times when jedi were allowed marriages, they followed the customs of their spouse-to-be, or of the community they themselves were born into."

Jaster frowned, realising that he didn't know anything about where Obi-Wan had come from, beyond that his buire gave him up to the jedi and changed his name, so he had no way to track them down. Would cultural practises from such a community even be comfortable for him?

"Or those communities they felt some attachment to," Windu added drily. "Given this is now a political marriage, I expect the Council would agree to waive any restrictions on wording."

Obi-Wan was silent for a long moment, his expression impossible to read, before he said, "No. The riduurok suites me."

"What other–?" Jaster started to ask.

Obi-Wan shook his head. "It doesn't matter."

Jaster had a feeling that it did, and he made a mental note to get the truth of the matter out of his riduur at his earliest opportunity.

"However," Obi-Wan added, tone going dry, "we may have to be a bit clever in finding a way to turn it into a public event."

Jaster coughed. "Ah." Yes, that would have been a benefit of using a different practice.

"Assume that Mace and I only know the meaning of the words spoken and please describe the ceremony for us," Rancisis requested.

Jaster rubbed at his mouth to cover a smile and heard snickers from his Mando'ade.

"There isn't one," Gilamar said, tone dry as the Dral'Han's scars. "Mando culture is eminently practical: It's rare to have all members of your clan in the same place at the same time, and choices to marry—or to adopt—can strike when you're on your own, or when you're under some sort of time constraint, so the actual activity is kept simple, and you let those who would need to know—such as your clan heads—or who will give you shit about it if they find out through other means, about the event at your earliest opportunity."

"Incidentally, trading vows and then nearly immediately falling into battle preparation was a very Mandalorian experience," Obi-Wan added with some humour.

Windu sighed and shook their head. "It makes sense, when you put it that way," they admitted, sounding tired, "but the Senate is going to expect something of an event that they can publicise; this treaty is too important, and a jedi marrying is too noteworthy, to do otherwise."

Obi-Wan grimaced at Jaster. "You know more about ancient Mandalorian history and any cultural practises that might have fallen out of use than I."

Jaster frowned and tried to think if he'd ever come across any references to Mando marriage ceremonies, but came up blank.

"The vows might be intended to be fast, but there's nothing saying we can't make a proper go of the clan heckling," B'arin pointed out gleefully.

Jaster pointed a finger at him. "First off, you're Clan Awaud."

B'arin flashed a wide grin, while Llats and Kryze both snorted.

"Second, if I don't give into the urge to shoot you, Jango will."

B'arin stopped grinning and cleared his throat. "Ah, a most...excellent point."

Vhonte shook her head. "As far as I'm aware, you never exchanged beskar'gam."

"Well, no," Obi-Wan agreed in a tone that almost sounded hesitant. "I didn't have mine. And it would need to be refitted before I could wear it."

"We can take it to the goran in Coruscanta's Manda'tsad," Vhonte pointed out.

"Or I can request they come to us, either here or at the Jet'yaim," Jaster murmured, "so you need not upset your alore's regulations."

"Given your recent interactions with us jedi has been clearly positive, so long as we can be assured there will be no more attacks on jedi in the region, I don't see why we cannot lift those restrictions," Rancisis commented, glancing at Windu.

"I concur," Windu agreed.

"I have limited familiarity with Coruscanta's Manda'tsad," Jaster warned, "and none at all since my apparent death on Korda VI; I cannot give guarantee of your people's safety among them at this time."

"The current goran is Clan Awaud," B'arin offered. "I've never met them, but they apparently served with the Haat'ade under Jango; I think they would listen if you spoke to them, Jaster, and find a way to keep their Manda'tsad in line." Glancing at Vhonte, he added, "Rao."

Vhonte nodded. "She could be a little excitable, but she was a solid verd and a capable goran," she said to Jaster. "Unless she's completely changed in twenty years, I have little doubt she'll swear to you and follow your lead, when given the opportunity."

Jaster nodded. "B'arin, can you find me contact information for them? We can discuss what would be most convenient for them; they'll know their Mando'ade's temperaments and comforts best."

B'arin got up, nodding. "I'll go comm my alor, see if they can get me in contact."

Jaster inclined his head and he left the suite, presumably headed for his own suite to make his comm. Turning to Obi-Wan again, he asked, "If they're willing to refit it, will you wear your beskar'gam for this ceremony?" As he recalled, his riduur had said that the entire reason he hadn't continued wearing his beskar'gam, once he'd left Manda'yaim, was because it would have given the wrong impression for a jedi to wear any form of armour.

Obi-Wan stared down at their joined hands for a moment, then nodded and flashed a smile that didn't quite reach his pale eyes. "If nothing else, it should make the Senate nervous."

"You're Mando'ad; they should be nervous," Llats insisted.

"I'm not certain that should be our goal right now," Rav pointed out drily, before offering Obi-Wan an apologetic smile. "It will comfort Mando'ade, however, to see our Mand'alor's riduur in beskar'gam that is clearly their own, especially as you are a jetii."

Obi-Wan inclined his head. "And the Senate can be convinced it is a necessary part of the ceremony, so as to negate some of their nerves."

There was something just subtly off about Obi-Wan's voice, and Jaster puzzled over it as his Mando'ade tossed around half-joking ideas for other things they might be able to convince the Senate was a necessary part of the ceremony. He caught Windu also watching his riduur, and followed their gaze down to Obi-Wan's unoccupied wrist, which he was flexing in a repetitive, almost familiar manner.

It took Jaster a moment, but then he recalled the way Obi-Wan had kept flexing his wrists after he'd put on Jango's kom'rke, like a nervous tic. It wasn't something Jaster had seen him do before he'd put on the kom'rke, and it wasn't something he'd noticed since arriving on Coruscanta, despite seeing his riduur regularly with his hands politely folded on the table during their talks. Yet, he was doing so again, now, while they were discussing Obi-Wan wearing his beskar'gam.

Something about wearing beskar'gam clearly bothered Obi-Wan, and Jaster was disappointed to say that he honestly didn't know if it was something related to jedi not wearing armour, or if something had happened when Obi-Wan was on Manda'yaim that had ruined the experience for him.

Either way, he was clearly uncomfortable with the idea of wearing his beskar'gam, although Jaster didn't doubt he would do so—for the comfort of the Mando'ade, if not for the way it might unnerve members of the Republic Senate—for this wedding ceremony. And, Jaster recognised, watching Obi-Wan's twitching wrist, he will wear whatever piece we trade, because it will be expected.

Trading kom'rke was traditional. In part because they rarely needed much in the way of refitting and were easy enough to remove quickly one-handed, while also almost always including some form of weapon, and the sharing of weapons was its own level of intimacy in Mando culture.

But it wasn't necessary for kom'rke to be the pieces traded. In fact, the only part of beskar'gam that Jaster couldn't recall ever having heard of being traded, was the buy'ce. Leant, certainly, but—just as Obi-Wan hadn't wanted to wear Jango's—activation sequences for various weapons systems were different for everyone, and not all buy'cese's programming paired well with the software of other beskar'gam, especially if one Mando'ad had owned their beskar'gam for a while, and the other's was brand new.

Jaster took a moment to think over the pros and cons of trading any piece of beskar'gam, but a part of him already knew what pieces it would have to be, and he said, "Ka'rta beskare."

The room went silent.

"What?" Obi-Wan asked, sounding utterly baffled.

Jaster winced, recognising he'd been thinking for longer than he'd intended to, and he explained, "The pieces we can trade: Our ka'rta beskare."

Obi-Wan's eyes went wide and his hand clenched tight around Jaster's.

"We can affix a chain to mine and you can wear it around your neck," Jaster added, feeling a little like he needed to clarify his reasoning. "So you won't have to wear any other pieces of your beskar'gam. Unless you really want to."

"Oh," Obi-Wan whispered, still looking a little stunned.

"Well," said a voice Jaster didn't recognise, "I suppose that answers that question."

Jaster glanced over to find that B'arin had returned and was carrying a portable holo imager, above which was the image of a Mando'ad, their buy'ce held under one arm to reveal they were human or near with a thin, attractive face and one side of their head shaved.

"Mand'alor, I am Rao, Clan and House Awaud, the goran and alor of Coruscanta's Manda'tsad," they said, tapping their free fist against the centre of their chest.

"Greetings, Rao of Awaud," Jaster replied, tapping his own ka'rta beskar in a sign of respect for their station; it was never wise to annoy a goran, especially if you wanted them to do work on your beskar'gam or weapons.

Rao nodded towards Obi-Wan. "I cannot, at this time, guarantee the safety of any jetiise within the Manda'tsad; I do not believe any of mine would respond to a sighting with violence—we do all live on Coruscanta, at least part-time—but I am not the only survivor of Jango Fett's Haat'ade, and none of us are used to seeing jetiise, unless we travel to their side of the planet."

"I understand, and appreciate your caution," Jaster promised.

They inclined their head. "I am willing to come to you and collect your ven'riduur's beskar'gam and take their measurements, and either return it myself, or have someone I trust do it for me."

"I would appreciate that. When would be convenient for you?" Jaster asked.

"Tomorrow or the day after," Rao decided.

Jaster looked over at Obi-Wan, who visibly shook himself and took a breath. "Yes, I–" He glanced at the Ori'alore. "When were we expecting to hear back?"

Windu's mouth went tight, and it was Rancisis who replied, "Tonight, hopefully."

Obi-Wan grimaced and nodded, then turned back to Rao. "The day after tomorrow will likely work best."

"Very well. If I approach your yaim, is that allowed?"

"Yes, of course," Obi-Wan agreed without hesitation.

"We'll ensure the Temple Guards know to expect you," Rancisis promised. "It is true that there are no rules against visitors to the Temple; however, not all jedi are quite as prepared as Master Kenobi to immediately open their hands in friendship to all Mandalorians."

"Not all Mandalorians," Obi-Wan insisted, and Jaster had to snort, recalling his riduur's reaction to the two Kyr'tsad sympathisers on Kamino. "Yes," he added to Rao, "the Guards will be warned to expect you. They may require you to wait at the entrance for myself to collect you, or they may lead you up to me; I'm afraid my mobility is not always certain."

Rao frowned. "Is that something that will affect your ability to wear your beskar'gam?"

"I don't believe so? I broke my leg and it healed poorly; I can walk on it, but a number of healers and medics have made clear they would rather I limit that." He glanced at Gilamar, who shrugged.

Rao nodded. "You have a baar'ur at your yaim?"

"Yes, of course," Obi-Wan agreed, eyes narrowed. "Why?"

"There are ways to forge pieces of beskar'gam to better support injuries," Rao explained. "I would need to discuss it with your baar'ur, but I may be able to make you a piece that will ease some of the strain on your damaged bone, so you can stand or walk longer."

Jaster honestly hadn't thought to consider that particular option, and he wanted to smack himself. By the look on Obi-Wan's face, it hadn't occurred to him, either.

"I cannot make any promises," Rao warned, "and it will depend on the exact composition of your beskar'gam–"

"Beskar and rhodium alloy," Vhonte reported.

Jaster raised an eyebrow at her, because rhodium wasn't a common alloy in beskar'gam, due to the extremely high melting point, but, then, he suspected it would have made sense for someone who used a weapon with a plasma blade. (And, of course, it would have picked up in popularity after Galidraan, especially among the surviving Haat'ade.)

"Helpful, but not quite what I need," Rao replied drily. "I'll bring supplies to test it, so I should be able to give you an exact answer before I leave with your beskar'gam."

Obi-Wan inclined his head. "Of course. I intend to leave the matter in your hands, Goran Awaud."

"Yes, you'll rather have to," Rao returned drily, but Jaster thought he heard a hint of humour in their voice. "I will be seeing you in two days, jetii. Mand'alor," they said, touching their fist to their ka'rta beskar again, and Jaster returned the gesture. "Jua'vod," they said to B'arin.

"Jua'vod," B'arin returned, and the holo flickered off.

"Now that has been addressed," Windu said in a mild tone that seemed somehow to be a lie, "perhaps someone might explain the shock over the piece of beskar'gam the Mand'alor picked to exchange?"

"I, too, must admit to some confusion," Rancisis murmured.

Jaster frowned, trying to figure out how best to explain the belief that Mando'ade protected their souls within their beskar'gam, with the greatest concentration held in the ka'rta beskar, which was positioned over the heart of most humanoids, as it had been for the Taungs, from whom the belief came. It was the reason that someone who had been declared dar'manda lost the right to their ka'rta beskar, and why that particular piece was always forged anew, never reshaped from the beskar'gam of a family member.

(It was one of the few kindnesses that Satine Kryze and her dictatorship had allowed; ka'rta beskare could be kept, but all other weapons and pieces of beskar'gam had to be turned over for her building projects.)

"Simplified," Obi-Wan said, "the ka'rta beskar—the beskar heart—is, to Mandalorians, what kyber is to us."

Both of the Ori'alore seemed to have understood that, but Jaster asked, "Kyber?" while Llats said, "Isn't that some sort of impossible to find, shiny rock that sells for a king's ransom on the black market?"

"Yes, they do," Windu agreed grimly, while Obi-Wan seemed to be hesitating about something. "Assuming a jedi doesn't hear about it and put an end to the sale."

Obi-Wan pulled his kad'au from his belt and let it rest in his palm in front of him. It rose slowly, as if by magic, until it was about level with Jaster's eyes, and then pulled apart, little pieces of metal and machinery catching the light as they spun in place. In the very centre, was a pale blue crystal, perhaps half the size of a ka'rta beskar, which glowed a steady pulse, like a heartbeat.

Obi-Wan reached into the pieces of his kad'au and pulled out the glowing crystal. "Kyber crystals," he said quietly, "are at the centre of every lightsabre." He let out a quiet, almost amused hum. "Ka'rta kad'au, you might call them; a lightsabre's heart."

Jaster tightened his grip on Obi-Wan's hand, watching that steadily pulsing glow and wondering if it was matched to his riduur's heartbeat.

"You're saying that crystal holds your soul?" Rav asked quietly.

"From a certain point of view," Windu and Rancisis said, nearly in tandem.

"I said 'simplified'," Obi-Wan insisted, before turning towards the other two jedi and saying, "You're not helpful."

Rancisis chuckled, while Windu let out a near-silent snort, and then they both withdrew their own kad'ause, letting them float into the air and come apart, revealing crystals of purple—Windu—and green—Rancisis—which both glowed with their own steady pulses, Rancisis' notably slower than Obi-Wan or Windu's.

"Kyber crystals are semi-sentient," Windu explained. "Not enough to notice, unless you're Force-sensitive and can hear them singing. We create bonds with them, putting a little of ourselves—our souls, you could certainly say—into them, and they take on the colour that best represents us to them."

Almost as one, the three jedi let their crystals go and they floated back into the centres of their disassembled kad'ause, which then reassembled around them and were returned to their belts.

Jaster suspected that the jedi had different understandings of the meanings of the colours their kyber were, but he couldn't help but think that Obi-Wan, his riduur, was blue; in Jaster's culture, that meant he was reliable, which seemed a very good trait for a Mand'alor's spouse.

Obi-Wan had had to return to the Jet'yaim with his Ori'alore—apparently, the contact they were expecting that night was related to the Jet'alore meeting that had forced Obi-Wan to miss that one day—so Jaster didn't get to spend the night with his riduur. Unfortunately.

In keeping with the fiction that they weren't more than friends, Jaster didn't try to find an excuse to visit the Jet'yaim when Rao would be there to collect Obi-Wan's beskar'gam. Instead, he took the free week they had while waiting on the Senate, to explore Coruscanta. At the end of the week, B'arin passed on an invitation from Rao, and they spent the next day at the Manda'tsad.

Rao had—proving their loyalty—kept all mention of working on a jedi's beskra'gam and Jaster's potential marriage to one to themself, but they had, apparently, asked B'arin questions about Obi-Wan, and then let it get out in the Manda'tsad that three jedi had given their lives to protect Jaster's bu'ade from a dar'jetii who had intended to enslave them all. Jaster and his party of Mando'ade got questions about the event, and the topic must have already made the rounds sufficiently—or members of the community had sought sources of their own—because none of the questioners came across as hostile.

Perhaps it was due to their closeness to the Jet'yaim, but Jaster was warmed to discover a community of Mando'ade who did not seem to despise the Jet'tsad on principle.

Another day passed before they were called back to the Senate, with the good news that the bill to remove the restrictions from the Jet'tsad had been passed. It had, in fact, apparently had overwhelming support, and Jaster couldn't say if that had been a sign of support for the Jet'tsad, or the product of his own threats, potentially with some use of blackmail from the Jet'tsad's supporters.

The announcement that Jaster and Obi-Wan had agreed to be the ones wed, seemed to be met with approval throughout the room, even by the factions of senators that Jaster would have expected to make a fuss, no matter what.

"Maybe it's something to do with him being a Jet'alor?" Rav murmured, her gaze just as suspicious as Jaster felt. "They have shown a degree of respect for him, which they did not for his temporary stand-in."

Jaster hummed. "I doubt we'll ever truly know."

"I doubt I want to know," Rav muttered back. "If jetiise really can read minds, I feel bad for them, being stuck in a room with these demagolkase."

Jaster grimaced and couldn't argue.

Finally, at the beginning of their fifth week on Coruscanta, they managed to reach a consensus on a treaty. It would take another day—or more, but Organa had sounded positive when he'd told Jaster—to get it properly ratified in the full Senate.

"And then," Organa added, "you and Master Kenobi will have your wedding and the treaty will be signed. And I expect we'll start seeing a great many of the same faces swarming around the Jedi Temple."

Jaster, who had received word three days before that a ship and some of his bu'ade had gone missing, just put on his best attempt at his riduur's bland smile and agreed, "Yes, I expect you will."

The day the Senate met for their vote, Jaster stumbled across a ratty-looking diner in one of the lower levels of the Senate District about the time he was thinking to stop for lunch. Within, he was surprised to find a familiar Besalisk, and even more surprised when, about twenty minutes after he and Jettster had started catching up at a table, the door chimed with a new arrival and Jettster's face lit up. "Sorry, Jaster," he said and got up, calling a delighted, "Ben!"

Jaster twisted to look and found his riduur, dressed in a light shirt under a dark vest, and smiling warmly at the old weapons smuggler as Jettster stepped up to him and drew him into a hug. "Hello, Dex," Obi-Wan said, and then he looked past the Besalisk, his warm smile focussing on Jaster. "Hello, Jaster. I see you've discovered the best place in the core to get a nerf steak."

"I stumbled across it by chance," Jaster admitted. "Wouldn't quite have expected to find you here."

Obi-Wan's pale eyes glinted. "Oh, Dex and I are old friends."

"Ben here helped me get this dump," Jettster agreed cheerfully, and a couple of beings in other booths jeered. "Like any of you would dare show your face if it wasn't a dump!" he yelled back good-naturedly, before giving Obi-Wan a gentle shove forward. "Take a seat while I whip you up something special."

"Just a nerfburger!" Obi-Wan insisted, and limped his way over to Jaster's booth while the Besalisk chortled on his way back into the kitchen.

Jaster shifted over, so Obi-Wan could join him on his side, leaving space for Jettster to return to his original spot on the other side of the table. Obi-Wan smiled and slid in close—much closer than Jaster expected—and it struck him all at once that, with Obi-Wan dressed down in spacer's garb—even his cane was chipped and stained—and Jaster out of beskar'gam for the day, the only being who was likely to recognise them, was Jettster. Who Jaster had known for long enough to trust he would keep the matter to himself, at least until someone offered enough money for the information.

So he leant in close, and was pleased when Obi-Wan took the hint and closed the rest of the distance to kiss him, letting out a happy hum.

They were interrupted by a glass being set on the table, and Obi-Wan's cheeks pinked at the knowing look the pale-skinned, human or near server was giving him. "Don't say anything, Hermione," he warned.

"Wouldn't ever say nothing about the boss' favourite," Hermione replied, and then blew out a bubble with the gum in their mouth and popped it loudly. "Don't have to."

Obi-Wan groaned and turned to hide his face against Jaster's collarbone. "Thank you for the Jawa juice," he muttered.

"Anytime, sugar," they replied, and left them with a gleeful little twirl.

Jaster hummed and combed his fingers through Obi-Wan's hair, delighting in the way his riduur melted against him. "You would be more concerned if they might be a problem," he murmured, half-checking, half-certain he'd read the teasing as friendly.

"Hermione?" Obi-Wan asked and shook his head. "No, she's completely loyal to Dex, and he's got some shady history, but the only time I suggested he sell me out for his own sake, he got insulted."

"Of course I did!" Jettster snapped, setting a plate heaping with protato wedges and what was probably the largest nerfburger Jaster had ever seen. "Eat that, you're too skinny," he added as he slid back into the other side of their booth.

"Dex," Obi-Wan complained, even as he obediently picked up the burger.

Jettster raised his eyebrows at them. "When did this happen?"

"About a year ago," Jaster admitted.

"I was following that lead you gave me," Obi-Wan added around his burger.

"Keep eating," Jettster ordered, and Obi-Wan huffed, but took another bite. "So," he said to Jaster, "you're the one he's been pining over."

"Quin is going to be pinning for my fist if he doesn't stop trading you updates on me for information," Obi-Wan grumbled.

Jettster chortled.

"I'm sure Seventeen would be happy to do the honours," Jaster commented drily.

Obi-Wan raised a questioning eyebrow at him.

"A ship is missing."

Obi-Wan let out a quiet cough and set his burger down, picking up his Jawa juice for a quick swallow. "Gamma?" he guessed.

Jaster sighed and nodded. "And Theta and Iota," he admitted. He hadn't been particularly surprised to hear that Fox had taken the chance to sneak into Republic space, or that the rest of Theta Squad had followed along, but Iota had surprised him; Ponds, Colt, and Fil were usually sensible enough to manage Bly's more madcap ideas, but it was always possible that they'd got mixed up in the escape and been dragged along so none of them set off the alarms too early.

Obi-Wan's mouth twitched. "They're your grandchildren," he pointed out.

Jaster rolled his eyes. "They're our grandchildren, cyare," he reminded his riduur.

Obi-Wan flushed again, while Jettster let out a delighted, "Oh-ho!"

"And Seventeen is your fault," Jaster added.

"Ah." Obi-Wan coughed. "Okay, yes, Seventeen is my fault."

Jaster snorted and set about telling Jettster about their most troublesome bu'ade, which resulted in a great deal of laughter and gave Obi-Wan time to finish off about half of his nerfburger and pick at his wedges.

Jettster finally grunted and leant forward against the table, eyes sharpening on Obi-Wan. "All right, what do you need?"

Obi-Wan cast an uncertain look at Jaster, and he took the hint and kissed his riduur's cheek. "Let me out?" he requested. "I think I need to check the cleanliness of our host's toilets."

Jettster snorted.

"Vor'e," Obi-Wan whispered and brushed a quick kiss over his lips, then slid out so Jaster could make his escape and leave the pair to discuss business without him; he was hardly going to be bothered by his riduur needing to converse with an informant privately, especially when it probably involved a jedi matter.

When he returned to the table, Obi-Wan was alone with a rather large slice of cake and two forks, one of which he handed to Jaster when he slid back into their booth. "A 'happy nuptials' gift, apparently," Obi-Wan murmured, tone dry and eyes sparkling. "Same with our bill; one of these years, I will actually get Dex to take my credits."

"I doubt it," Jaster replied, because if Obi-Wan hadn't managed to talk the Besalisk into letting him pay for his food yet, he wasn't likely to ever manage to do so.

"So do I," Obi-Wan admitted, and leant against Jaster as he took a bite of the cake, letting out an appreciative hum.

It was very good cake, and they had it polished off in no time.

"When's your curfew?" Jaster asked teasingly as he helped his riduur out of the booth.

Obi-Wan hummed. "Well, my ride is supposed to be swinging by in about twenty minutes, but since I'm currently finding his face more punchable than usual, I might just stand him up. In which case..." He paused, looking thoughtful, and then decided, "About an hour, but I can probably stretch it to four if I comm Uncle Mace and let him know I'll be late."

"I'd prefer the four," Jaster admitted.

"So would I," Obi-Wan agreed. "I'd also prefer that unfairly comfortable bed of yours."

Jaster laughed and kissed him. "That can be arranged," he promised against his riduur's mouth.

Obi-Wan pressed a quick kiss to his mouth, then motioned that they should head out, waving to Jettster as they passed the kitchen window and both ignoring the catcalling from the other patrons.

Obi-Wan cut an imposing figure, with his almost completely black beskar'gam—save for the green of his kom'rke, ka'rta beskar, and lining the visor of his buy'ce; and the Jet'tsad and Clan Tervho symbols painted on his bes'marbure in white, which Jaster suspected were fresh—and dark brown kute and cape, so Jaster wasn't surprised by the way certain senators were eyeing him like they expected him to start slaughtering them without any warning.

As he walked closer, Jaster eyed the rather unusual joining of the bes'lovik, tadun'bur, and cetar'bur on his bad leg. It didn't look like he would be able to make any quick moves in it, but it definitely looked like it was supportive enough that he could continue standing for a while, even without his cane. Which was nowhere in immediate view—nor was his chair—but there were enough jedi in attendance, that one of them could have easily been holding it for him, just in case.

Jaster's gaze caught on the glint of silver on his belt—his kad'au—before being drawn to the unusual, pale blue glow at the centre of his ka'rta beskar. Something about it plucked at his memory, but he lost the thought when Organa called for order; evidently, Jaster and his Mando'ade had been the last to arrive.

They were not, however, the only Mando'ade there; Rao had requested and been granted permission to bring some of their community with, since it seemed only fair that they have a number of Mando'ade present that closer matched the jedi and senators. (Honestly, Jaster only really cared that, between the jedi and Mando'ade, they outnumbered the senators; if it came to it, he knew which Republic group he would trust more at his back, if someone attacked the gathering.)

To draw out the ceremony, Organa said some words about lasting friendships and the healing of old wounds. Pretty words that Jaster could only assume would speak to their Republic audience, because Mando'ade wouldn't care about that. They would care that Jaster was doing this for the 'right' reasons, and that the jedi he was marrying could prove themself worthy to be counted as Mando'ad. (That Obi-Wan was wearing beskar'gam clearly fitted to him, and openly wore the symbol of a clan that was both loyal to Jaster, and represented in the room by the clan head, would ease many of those concerns, and the story that he didn't doubt was circulating about Obi-Wan being one of the jedi who had fought against the dar'jetii threatening Jaster's bu'ade, would soothe the rest.)

Since this was being recorded, they had agreed not to say their vows in tandem, as was custom, but for Jaster to speak them first in Mando'a—hand-signing the words, as was common practise when making public speeches or you knew there was someone with a hearing impairment who was watching and might wish to be part of the conversation—with Obi-Wan repeating them in Basic—while also hand-signing using the Republic signs. Keeping their hands busy gave the moment something of an impersonal touch, Jaster found, which suited the political nature of the event, and also kept him from reaching for his riduur to pull him into a mirshmure'cya that would likely give their true relationship away to everyone, Mando'ade and Republic alike.

Of course, once the vows were said, Jaster turned to their audience, and the recording, and—in Basic, while signing in Mando'a, since he wasn't comfortable with the Republic sign language—said, "It is a common practice, in Mandalorian culture, for spouses to trade pieces of their beskar'gam, their armour, so they will truly be with each other, even while apart. Master Kenobi and I have agreed to trade our ka'rta beskar, the hexagon at the centre of our chest plates."

Someone—Rao, most likely—must have warned the members of the Coruscanta Manda'tsad of their intentions, because none of them made any reactions to give the game away as Jaster turned back to Obi-Wan and they both carefully removed their ka'rta beskare and handed them over.

Jaster eyed Obi-Wan's ka'rta beskar, his HUD taking a quick reading of the blue glow, but he realised what it was before the HUD returned the information, and he breathed, "Ka'rta kad'au." Because Obi-Wan had somehow managed to attach a thin piece of kyber into the centre of his ka'rta beskar, and Jaster knew his riduur well enough to know it must have come from the kyber in his kad'au; Obi-Wan had found a way to share a piece of his soul with Jaster, as according to his own culture, without doing anything other than what they had agreed on.

He looked up at his riduur and found that Obi-Wan had tilted his head in that particular way that Mando'ade who were used to wearing their buy'ce as their face showed they were smiling. "Elek," he murmured.

Jaster carefully slotted the ka'rta beskar with its kyber centre into the slot for it, and nodded to his riduur, who nodded back, before turning to join Organa by the treaty they were to sign.

Almost the moment the last of the necessary signatures were finished, a familiar voice wailed, "Ba'buir!" and a Mando'ad in red beskar'gam raced towards Obi-Wan.

Obi-Wan caught Fox in a hug, murmuring in a low, soothing tone that Jaster couldn't make out.

He turned towards the door of the room and sighed at where ten of his bu'ade, all in their beskar'gam, with buy'cese on—likely the only reason no one had caught them—were hiding behind Seventeen, who had crossed their arms over their chest, and Jaster didn't need to see their face to know exactly which stubborn glower they would be levelling at him. "You're grounded," he told them. "Where's Rex'ika?"

"Here?" Rex called from where he'd clearly found Anakin in the crowd of jedi, and had attached himself to his jedi's side exactly like Jaster had known he would. "Can I be grounded with An'ika?"

"I don't want to be grounded!" Anakin snapped. "Master, Rex is trying to get me in trouble!"

"Imagine that," Obi-Wan muttered, shaking his head. "Helmets off, bu'ade."

Jaster wasn't certain if it was because it was Obi-Wan asking, or because he'd called them 'bu'ade', but all thirteen of the clones obediently removed their buy'cese. Most of the CCs looked at least a little ashamed of themselves—save Rex, who just looked stubborn—but Seventeen looked like they were ready to fight anyone, even Obi-Wan, and Fox, unsurprisingly, looked like they'd just been sobbing their heart out, and would probably be hesitant to leave Obi-Wan's side for a while. Not that Jaster blamed them; they'd gone into bacta knowing only that Obi-Wan had survived Palpatine, and come out to discover that he was gone, and none of them had had any idea how he was doing for an entire year.

"Clones," one of the senators hissed.

Seventeen snarled in their direction, but Obi-Wan called, "Alpha," in a firm tone, and they somehow managed to look like they were slinking proudly over to hover behind Obi-Wan's left shoulder. Obi-Wan sighed, and then said, "You're grounded."

"Yes, Alor," Seventeen replied evenly, and Jaster knew that they, like Rex, were intending to serve their grounding by remaining plastered to their chosen jedi's side.

Organa let out a quiet snort and eyed Jaster. "I see we'll be getting those similar faces sooner than expected. Just for the sake of my curiosity, Mand'alor," they added as the rest of the clones decided to mob Obi-Wan, who had apparently given up trying to act stern, "when did you know they were on their way?"

Jaster hummed, smiling behind the cover of his buy'ce. "I was warned that a ship had gone missing about a week ago."

Organa let out another quiet snort. "At least they timed it well."

"They are, to my grief, all exceptionally clever; they would have found a way to keep themselves hidden if they'd arrived too early."

"They also seem to have stolen your spouse," Organa pointed out cheerfully.

"It has been a very long year for them," Jaster admitted quietly. "He found them, and helped to free them and teach them how to have lives outside of the structure they'd been raised in. And then he was stolen away while still fighting for his life." He glanced over at the chancellor, whose expression had fallen. "Do you blame them?"

"No, I can't say I do." Then Organa turned towards him and held out their forearm in the manner Mando'ade did when greeting friends, or sealing a pact. When Jaster turned and gripped their forearm, he discovered that Organa's return grip was more like a warrior's, than a politician's. "I'm not certain how much of a pain it will be to institute a draft," they said cheerfully, "so do me a favour and treat him well, so I don't have to find out."

Jaster blinked, thrown to find himself being threatened by the Chancellor of the Republic, for the sake of his riduur, and then he laughed, delighted. "You know, Chancellor Organa, I think I like you."

Organa smiled. "The feeling is mutual, Mand'alor Mereel. Now, perhaps you should go rescue our jedi from your grandchildren. Preferably before we find out how long that fancy leg armour will keep him on his feet."

"Seventeen would carry him," Jaster said with absolute certainty, but he did leave the Chancellor to go attempt to wrangle his bu'ade into some form of order.

When they finally left Coruscanta, only Fox and Seventeen, of the thirteen clones who had made the trip, returned home with them, which was about what Jaster had expected. All of the others, save Rex and Bly, had attached themselves to members of the Jet'alore. Rex had, obviously, kept fast to Anakin's side, while Obi-Wan had apparently introduced Bly to the former student of his friend Quinlan, and then stood back to watch chaos unfold. (As it turned out, Quinlan was one of those buire who got a little upset when they thought their ad might have a suitor; from what Seventeen had said, Quinlan wasn't far wrong on that assumption, because Bly had apparently taken one look at the former student and fallen immediately in love. Or lust; Seventeen insisted it was hard to tell with idiots.)

According to Jango, the rest of the clones thinking to move to the Jet'yaim were waiting for Obi-Wan to get to Manda'yaim, so they could see him with their own eyes, and probably mob him with more hugs. (Also according to Jango, Boba was beside himself that he hadn't manage to steal aboard the ship going to Coruscanta. Jango wasn't certain if the adiik was upset because he'd wanted to see Obi-Wan that badly, or because he thought the trip would have got him out of having to do classwork for a couple of weeks. It wouldn't have, of course, since Jaster was just as capable of looking up work for his bu'ad to do, but Boba seemed to forget that Jaster actually cared more than Jango did that he keep on top of his studies.)

Jaster suspected that things would be very busy for the first month or so, with clones who were on patrols with the capital ships or otherwise off-planet, finding excuses to come back to Manda'yaim and see Obi-Wan, or requesting transfers so they could see Coruscanta and meet more of the jedi they'd supposedly been made for. Jaster was probably going to have to resort to managing his own workload for a while, since Fox seemed to be planning to act as Obi-Wan's assistant, while Seventeen continued to act as his bodyguard. Which, considering how many clones there were—and how many had a healthy fear of the Alpha-class in general and Seventeen in particular—and how excited they all were to have their other ba'buir home, Obi-Wan was probably going to need a bodyguard who had absolutely no compunctions against picking one of the clones up and tossing them out a doorway. (Or a third-storey window, on one occasion that Jaster really wished he'd never been told about. The younger clone had survived—Seventeen had apparently aimed them into some bushes—but Jaster had still been forced to sit Seventeen down and explain why that was not okay; honestly, Jaster was quite glad to leave the managing of Seventeen in Obi-Wan's hands.)

"What're you thinking about so hard?" Obi-Wan asked.

Jaster glanced back at the bed, where his riduur was sprawled, wearing nothing but Jaster's ka'rta beskar on a chain around his neck, the bottom point of the hexagon touching the top of the scar in the centre of his chest. "Your bu'ad throwing their vode out windows," he admitted.

Obi-Wan huffed, clearly amused. "Should I tell Seventeen that–"

Jaster didn't let him get any further, climbing back into their bed and shutting his riduur up with a kiss.

There was little use thinking about what awaited them on Manda'yaim and in the weeks and months to come, when he finally had Obi-Wan with him again; they would face this future together, at last.

A/N: For those curious, this is what I imagine Obi-Wan's beskar'gam looks like. (Made using the Mando Maker site.)

That's all, there isn't any more. People are welcome to play in this universe—I give open permission on fanworks related to all my works, as well as translations and podfics; I only ask you let me know when you post something, so I can be properly excited, and also, of course, do not repost an exact copy of my work—but I don't intend to do anything more with it. Much rather focus on my Feemor series and the JangObi soulmate au I keep teasing on tumblr and twitter. ^^;

Chapters
One	Two	Three
Four	Five	Six
Seven	Eight	Nine
~~Ten~~		Glossary