Chapter Text
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At first when Boba had been brought to Mandalore, dirty and frightened it had seemed like the perfect solution. Jango’s preferences had made Jaster sure that his son would never have an heir. Boba had seemed like a perfect compromise since adoption was common on Mandalore and he’d taken such a quick shine to Jango that when Jaster had passed, leaving Jango as the next Mandalore, he’d been sure that everything would work out.
It wasn’t until Boba started to walk that anyone realized something was amiss.
The first time it happened, Jango got the call that Boba stole a toy from another one of the kids during his classes. When he showed up, Boba was wide-eyed and teary and immediately ran for Jango the second that he walked through the door.
“What happened?” Jango demanded as he picked Boba up, “I told you that I would be here as soon as possible.”
“He- he didn’t even touch it-,” the teacher tried to explain to him but Jango wouldn’t hear about it. He’d been hoping that learning with the other children would help Boba’s social skills but it was clear that it had been a mistake.
Instead, he had a tutor come to start teaching Boba who did well under the one-on-one attention, cementing the idea in Jango’s mind that it was for the best that he pulled him from the public classroom.
The second time, Jango saw it for himself. He’d just taken Boba’s plate away and turned to grab the dessert that had been prepared, glowing with pride that his son had finished all of his food for once, and when he whipped around he’d heard the clattering of a plate.
“Look!” Boba told him proudly.
If he hadn’t seen the plate on Boba’s high chair, he wouldn’t have believed it. Somehow his son had gotten it to himself, without even touching it.
It was at that moment that his heart had sunk.
There was only one way that Boba could have moved with his mind.
“Jetii,” Jango choked out in realization as he looked up at his son’s chubby face. The boy was beaming at him, clearly proud of his newfound skill and Jango felt like he might be sick.
The Jetii were child snatchers. If they were to find out that there was a force-sensitive child on Mandalore, he knew that they would be there in a day.
There wasn’t any way that Jango would let them get their hands on his son. He’d never get to see him again. He’d figure it out somehow, but one thing was for sure.
“You can’t do that,” he told Boba sternly, “You can’t let anyone see you do that.”
“Wh-?” Boba started to ask.
“You can’t let anyone see you do that,” Jango said again, “No one. Do you understand me?”
“I- Yes buir,” Boba finally told him, shoulders dropping a bit, “I won’t tell anyone.”
It wasn’t a permanent solution, he knew, but it had to be better than the alternative. He knew that if the Jetii were to get their hands on his son that he would never see him again. The only thing that they could do was hide it.
He’d find someone in secret to help his son control it. No one would be taking Boba from him. There had to be someone who could help him.
In the end, after countless days of research and reaching out to every contact that he felt like he could trust, he came to the conclusion that there wasn’t anyway to get help without alerting the Jedi and Jango knew he couldn’t afford for that to happen.
So he taught his son that he wasn’t to attempt anything outside of the palace walls. If anyone found out about his abilities he risked them talking to the Jetii, or worse- a slaver. The Mandoralians had no lost love for the Jetii and knowing that one was amongst their ranks- and set to be the heir of their planet, no less, would bring a fight that he wasn’t prepared for.
Since his buir had died he’d had a tenious grip over the planet and something like this would surely cause them to question his position even more. He knew he couldn’t afford that right now. If he were to lose his position then surely the Jetii would be able to strong-arm him into giving up his son.
He wouldn’t let that happen.
And it worked.
At least for a while.
It was clear that as the boy grew older it was harder for him to keep from accidentally doing things that he shouldn’t have been.
The first time it had happened, on a planet that Jango had been securing a treaty with, it had been easy to brush it off. After all, when someone had had too many drinks, a small bit of levitation was easily concealed as too much Corellian whiskey.
From there though, it only got harder.
It took three years for Jango to cement his place as the leader of Mandalore.
He’d heard rumors of the Death Watch from his father and though he remained sure that it was that group who had somehow been responsible for the his father, nothing could be proven in any way that would help him. It wasn’t until Tor Vizsla showed up at his door, darksaber in hand that Jango had been able to put the pieces together.
His father had been cut down by a lightsaber while off-planet and Jango had always assumed it to be a Jetii- since it wasn’t as if the two factions got along well- but as he saw the blade for the first time he realized that it hadn’t been an outsider at all.
The traitor had been right under his nose the entire time. His own people had been responsible for his father’s death.
It was the duel that cemented Jango’s place as the rightful Mand’alor.
With Tor dead and the clan of Vizsla cast out, things got better for Jango.
But for Boba the fight had just begun.
Four years after he had first shown signs of being force sensitive the boy had slowly drawn in on himself, pulling away from Jango even as he desperately tried to keep the boy close to him.
Until in the early hours before dawn Jango woke up to a familiar voice screaming.
He was up and out of bed before he was even fully awake, stumbling across the hall and nearly breaking the door in his haste to get to his son.
Boba was sat up in bed but it was almost as if Jango wasn’t there and when he’d finally gotten his hands on his son he’d screamed as if he’d been hit and Jango had jerked back, panicking as his son looked around the room with blank eyes, almost as if he wasn’t there.
“Boba! Boba!” Jango yelled, “Please, I’m right here. What’s wrong?”
Suddenly he stopped and then Boba was looking at him, immediately bursting into tears as Jango scooped him up into his arms.
“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Jango promised, “Everything is okay. I’m right here.”
“Something’s wrong,” Boba had cried into his chest, “Why does everything hurt? It’s so loud.”
“What’s so loud? What hurts?” Jango felt panic shoot down his spine as he looked over his son. Had someone gotten in somehow and hurt him?
Except there wasn’t a mark on him.
“No in my head,” Boba cried, “My head hurts and everyone is crying. I don’t know what’s going on. Buir, please help me.”
It was then that Jango realized he couldn’t keep it a secret anymore.
It was tome dar. The day that all of Mandalore set aside to honor those that they had lost.
It was the day that he feared that he would lose his son.
But he couldn’t let him continue in pain.
He needed to contact the Jetii.
The Council had been discussing the space station that had been established on the faraway planet of Carida for weeks and Obi-Wan had been sent to renegotiate terms with the Caridans in an effort to repair the relationship between the small colony and the Republic enough to continue the build.
It was a big stepping stone, one that had required a trusted Jedi to ensure that everything went smoothly. If they could get the space station built then they would finally have a solid contact to be able to travel from the Outer Colonies and the Inner Rim.
So when he was called to an emergency meeting he was surprised to have been called away from his original mission.
“It’s an old code that was used,” Master Windu explained to him, “We haven’t gotten a message code from Mandalore in over a thousand years.”
“Mandalore?” Obi-Wan asked, eyes widening in shock, “What’s happened?”
Mandalore had been against the Jedi since the Sith Wars nearly a thousand years ago. They’d believed that the Jedis’ stance on non-violence had led the war to continue far longer than was proper.
Of course, Mandalore wasn’t the only planet to lose something in that war but when it came to the planet they weren’t quick to forgive slights that had been made against them and by allowing the war to continue due to what they deemed ‘unnecessary pacifism’ Mandalore had decided to break ties with both the Republic and the Jedi.
Of course, this wasn’t helped when the Jedi were accused of killing the rightful Mand’alor. The man, Jaster Mereel, had very clearly been cut down by some form of saber- even though there wasn’t a chance that a Jedi would have made it onto their planet, much less under the nose of nearly a dozen guards to assault Mandalore royalty under their noses.
Since then ties had been more than just strained. Obi-Wan had expected the system to snap in the near future- as did most of the council- but for them to call upon them? It couldn’t have been good.
“They won’t say what’s happened,” Master Windu informed him, “The ruler of Mandalore, Mand’alor Jango Fett has requested the presence of a single Jedi. No more, no less. Apparently, it’s of the utmost importance.”
“And if it’s a trap?” Obi-Wan pressed, “Relations have been tense at best for the past five years. What if they have decided that a Jedi had assassinated his father after all and this is his way of enacting revenge?”
A restless murmuring began in the Council Chambers as everyone seemed to contemplate what Obi-Wan was talking about. It wasn’t as if it would definitely work out like that but they couldn’t just base their missions on what they thought would happen.
“To Mandalore, you shall go, Master Jinn, accompany you,” Yoda declared as he banged his gimmer stick against the floor to quiet everyone, “Stay off the planet surface, he shall. Should you need help, assist you, he will.”
“Of course Master Yoda,” Obi-Wan told him, bowing his head slightly, “I shall wait for my replacement then.”
It took three standard days for Qui-Gon to reach him and another two standard days for Master Plo Koon to arrive and relieve him.
In the meantime, Obi-Wan had requested all the information that they had on Mandalore. It might not have been the biggest section of the archives but it definitely beat going there completely unprepared. If Obi-Wan should have to run for some reason, the knowledge of their terrain and weather patterns could be the difference between life and death. The small amount of information on their customs could prevent him from reigniting a war between the two of them.
The planet itself, Obi-Wan could tell immediately had once been beautiful. Now all there was were desolate deserts, broken up only by domes that housed cities inside. Obi-Wan knew that one of those domes was the one that he was supposed to be going to- Keldable, the capital of the planet.
He watched in fascination when they started to descend to their location as he watched a small hover train racing through across the surface, kicking up sand as it raced towards another, much further dome.
It was interesting watching the dome open so that they could land, an angry red light shining until the dome had finally completely sealed and then a green light that told them they were allowed to exit the cruiser.
As soon as Obi-Wan had exited the craft he was swarmed. A dozen or so guards were pointing weapons at him but he just tucked his hands into his sleeves. It wouldn’t do to antagonize them by drawing a weapon. After all, he was here as an invited guest- a diplomat from another system- and he wouldn’t want to make them rethink that decision.
He couldn’t help but look out to the wastelands of what had once been a planet rumored to be as beautiful- if not more than- as Naboo had been and Obi-Wan could feel the way the force winded around the domes, its anguish and despair echoing through every fiber of Obi-Wan’s being.
It was for the best that Qui-Gon hadn’t accompanied him. The living force screamed out in pain here on the surface of a planet that’s people had spelled its destruction.
He wondered if they might consider after all of this was done, allowing the Corps to come in and see if there might be something that they could do to help revitalize the planet. They were well versed in bringing planets that were hopelessly destroyed back from the brink of the destruction that had been wrought on them and he was sure that if they were given enough time, they may be able to do the same for this one.
“This is quite the welcome,” Obi-Wan quipped at the men standing tense around him, “But I do believe that I am here by invitation. It seems a little strange to threaten those you invite to your surface, don’t you think?”
There was a look between the men and then someone stepped forward, tucking his blaster away as he stood back straight and took in Obi-Wan’s appearance.
“And who- do tell- would invite a Jetii to our surface?”
“I do believe it was your Mand’alor,” Obi-Wan told him with a raised brow. Had the man not told his men that Obi-Wan would be coming? This couldn’t spell anything good for how this was going to go.
“Is that so?” the man asked and then turned to one of his men, barking out an order in Mando'a.
“Last time I check it’s incredibly rude to call someone that,” Obi-Wan shot back, pleasure lighting up his chest at the wide looks that he received. Everyone in the temple had eyed him warily when he’d decided to learn the language of the Mandalorians but it had been worth it, just for that second of shock.
“Apologies,” the man told him stiffly, “You’ll have to come with us until we’ve been given instructions on what to do with you.”
“Of course,” Obi-Wan agreed easily, “I wouldn’t want to cause any more of a stir than I’ve already caused.”
“I’m sorry,” Jango said tightly, headache already starting in the front of his head, “But I think I may have heard you wrong because there isn’t any way you put a foreign diplomat in a prison.”
The guard shifted, looking a little nervous as he licked his lips, “We did not know he was an invited guest and the guards worried that without being able to keep a constant eye on him we may have been allowing him to do something that would be…dangerous.”
Jango cursed, standing from his throne and quickly walking to meet the guard, “Bring me to him immediately. Imprisoning a diplomat is grounds for a war. Do you know what you have just done?”
The guard paled, turning and leading Jango out of the halls even as he stuttered his reply, “We didn’t know. He just arrived completely unannounced. We usually are told of diplomats well in advance and I’ve never heard of a diplomat with no envoy and a weapon.”
“He is one Jetii,” Jango snapped back, “What danger could he possibly have posed that required you to jail him? You’d better hope that I’m able to talk him out of pressing charges against the planet or it will be your heads.”
Jango didn’t understand why the man had come in on the Northside of the dome. Most all traffic came in from the South- where he’d told the guards to prepare for the man’s arrival- and only locals and the occasional merchants ever came to the city through where the trains resided. It tended to be the worse part of the city since living next to the trains was loud at best and those who could afford to live away from them did so.
Of course, it turned out that they hadn’t just been keeping the Jetii in a prison. They’d been keeping the man in one of the worst prisons on the planet. Only the worst of the worst- and those who were prone to escaping were kept in the secondary dome not too far from the capital.
Because it was under it own personal dome and nearly a kilometer away from the nearest inhabited dome the only way in and out of the prison -assuming one didn’t want to die by being exposed to the planet’s surface- was from the armored cars that were under constant guard.
If the Jetii had been an actual intruder, it would have been the smartest move- one he would have praised his men for- but as it stood, he would now have to answer for not only the crime of imprisoning the man but also the mental scarring that being stuck in such a place could result in. He knew that there were spice mines on Kessel that were more comfortable than the high-security prison he was walking into.
He quickly made his way through the prison, already trying to conjure up ways in his mind that he could make it up to the Jetii. He was sure that he’d be beyond angry at the treatment and as much as Jango wasn’t a fan, he knew that but he wouldn’t be just talking to the man.
He needed his help.
And this definitely wasn’t the first impression that Jango wanted to give to the man who was supposed to be assisting him and not stealing his child.
He pushed past a few stunned guards, not bothering to find the keys, and instead just picked the lock, opening it to reveal a sight he hadn’t been expecting.
He’d expected outrage, indignation, a man standing right behind the door ready to fight him. He’d definitely been expecting a stuffy, old man dressed in robes and frowning at him in irritation.
The Jetii in front of him wasn’t any of those things.
For one, he was young from what Jango could tell. Probably closer to twenty than thirty, with copper hair and soft features. He was sitting cross-legged in the middle of the room, eyes closed and hands resting on his knees.
Then he opened his eyes and Jango was pinned into place by a beautiful slate blue gaze.
He let his eyes trail over the man, who seemed comfortable with the silence, letting his eyes wander over any visible pale skin and then looking back up, clearing his throat as he took in the man’s curious gaze.
“You must be the Jetii,” Jango told him gruffly.
The man seemed to think for a second and then gave him a small smile, “I am Obi-Wan Kenobi, at your service. I’m here to at the Mand’alor’s request.”
“I am the Mand’alor,” Jango told him, “My name is Jango Fett, son of Jaster Mereel and rightful heir to the throne.”
The man- Obi-Wan- bowed his head in greeting.
“I don’t suppose we can have our conversation somewhere a bit more pleasant,” Obi-Wan questioned, “Not that this isn’t a lovely prison that you have here but I have to admit it is a bit hot.”
Jango knew that he must look ridiculous with the way his mouth nearly fell open at the Jetii’s words but the man said nothing, patiently waiting for Jango to respond as if he hadn’t been illegally detained and held against the laws of the very Republic he served.
He was a strange man, that much was clear. Perhaps he wanted to wait until there weren’t as many witnesses before giving Jango the dressing down that he deserved. Either way, he felt as if the Jetii was already paces in front of him and they’d barely even started.
He didn’t like it. He was used to having to be the best and the fastest and the idea that this man might be able to outmaneuver him in any way left him feeling discontented.
“Of course,” Jango agreed, keeping his face neutral. He suddenly wished that he’d brought his helmet as he’d considered. It would have made him feel a lot better though he knew that moving in on the man in full gear after his slight could have been disastrous.
“Of course-,” Jango stopped, unsure of how to address him.
“Just Obi-Wan is fine,” the man offered.
“Of course…Obi-Wan,” Jango said, forcing out the name as if it were going to poison him.
“Thank you, Mand’alor Fett,” Obi-Wan told him, gesturing towards the door, “Lead the way, please.”
It felt strange to sit on his throne while looking down at the serene Jetii in front of him. It wasn’t as if it was something that he hadn’t done a thousand times before, it just felt-.
It felt wrong with this Jetii in particular.
Maybe it was something that would feel wrong with all Jetii.
“You’ve called us here but I must admit the transmission was quite vague,” Obi-Wan explained to him, “It may have been that the padawan who took it down didn’t quite give us enough information but I’m afraid I’m not entirely sure why I am here.”
“I have some questions for you,” Jango said. Until he knew what would happen he wouldn’t be giving this Jetii any information he could use against him. If he knew that Boba was force-sensitive then he’d have a bargaining chip that Jango wasn’t willing to give. His son would not be used as a bartering chip.
“I see,” Obi-Wan replied and then tucked his hands into his robes, “I will assist you in any way that I can, however, I’m not sure how much help I will be without more information about what’s going on.”
If Jango asked the questions that he had would he already give himself away? The Mandalorians had never been interested in the Jetii before. It stood to reason the only reason they suddenly would care would be because they needed their aide. If he admitted to needing the man’s aide then surely he would know that there was a force-sensitive child here on the planet.
“The only way to give you the information you’re seeking would be for you to stay here for longer than you were anticipating,” Jango finally said.
“And how long would that be?”
The man doesn’t seem offended- more intrigued if Jango had to guess- but there’s a spark of amusement in his eyes that set Jango’s teeth on edge.
“I’d think it would be at least a year,” Jango told him, “It’s a very large undertaking that we’d be asking of the Jetii. We’d, of course, be willing to return the favor, should you accept.”
“A year?” Obi-Wan’s face remained irritatingly passive, “That is quite a while. I’d definitely have to talk with the council about an assignment that long. It might do us both some good to be able to give them even a bit of information.”
“What about information on a Senator that I believe is trying to overthrow the Republic?” Jango asked.
He valued discretion, that was true, and when the Kamonians had come to him to ask for DNA to clone he’d been intrigued enough to look into what was going on. They were trying to create an army, although from what Jango gathered it wasn’t against the Republic, but for them.
He’d traced the money back to a Nabooian Senator by the name of Sheev Palpatine. The Mandalorians didn’t often interfere on behalf of the Republic and with their numbers just starting to return to normal levels Jango had been intent on not involving the newly repaired planet in anything that went on between the Republic.
But this was his son and if all he had to do was rat out a few Senators to save him then he would do so.
“That’s quite an accusation that you’re talking about,” Obi-Wan said carefully, “And it would be thoroughly vetted.”
“I don’t care for your politics,” Jango told him, “And if it weren’t for the help that we required I would have allowed you all to work it out between yourselves. But I do need your help and I understand that I’ve asked a lot. So why don’t I tell you what you need to know to squash a rebellion before it happens and then you help me?”
“I’ll have to discuss it with the council,” the man replied, “Would you mind giving me a few hours to make contact with them? I will return once I have an answer for you.”
If the Jetii left and then informed everyone of what Jango knew he knew it would spell disaster for his planet and it would be all on him.
“You cannot leave unless you do not plan on coming back,” Jango told him firmly, “Should you leave and attempt to come back then know you will be treated as an invader.”
“So you expect me to make the decision of staying with you for a year with no information on what it entails for information that may or may not be valuable?” the man raised an unimpressed eyebrow but Jango just straightened in his seat.
“At least a year,” Jango corrected confidently, “The information is worth at least that much.”
And he wasn’t sure if his son would be completely okay after a year. He might need a few months past that to learn and Jango wouldn’t short-change the boy. It would only lead to problems.
“So the only way this works is if I specifically stay here for at least a year,” Obi-Wan checked, “And in that time what will I be doing?”
“Whatever I want you to,” Jango deflected, “And until all is said and done you won’t be allowed to share information with your Council.”
He wouldn’t risk them finding out about his son.
“You can’t be seriously thinking about it.”
Qui-Gon’s sharp voice pulled Obi-Wan out of the pondering he’d been doing since the Mandalore had offered the deal.
“It would be foolish to accept an offer we do not know the price for,” Master Windu agreed and Obi-Wan straightened.
“And if I think I may know what he wants?” Obi-Wan questioned.
“Is there something you would like to tell us?” Master Mundi asked, looking sharply over at him. The Council had been debating about the problem for hours. On the one hand, it was obvious whatever information the man had would be good. They were known for being honest and Obi-Wan trusted if the man said he had this kind of life-altering information that he actually had it. On the other, he wasn’t sure the price would be one the Council would let him agree too.
“I did some research on Mandalore prior to this trip,” Obi-Wan told him, “The newest Mand’alor, although I couldn’t find any pictures has been documented a few times. It seems that his father worried that he wouldn’t have an heir.”
That drew the attention of every council member and Obi-Wan took a steadying breath.
“He’s gay,” Obi-Wan explained, “And it was a factor in the rising of another faction that tried to take his throne from him. There were other reasons, of course, but one of their reasons was that someone who couldn’t have an heir wasn’t worthy of the throne.”
“I hope you aren’t going where I think you are going,” Qui-Gon warned, voice low.
“It’s no secret that I’m Stewjoni,” Obi-Wan shrugged, pulling his shields tighter to him as Qui-Gon started to poke at them, “But according to the anatomy of my people I am still male. And Stewjon is a completely closed planet. Most people don’t even know the location of it due to the high chance of their citizens becoming slaves. This is a once-in-a-lifetime oppurtunity. He waited until I was the closest person to Mandalore to request a meeting and once I got here he told me I wasn’t allowed off planet until we’d brokered a deal or rejected his offer.”
“Then the answer is no,” Master Windu told him sternly, “We will not sacrifice one of our own.”
“Thank you,” Obi-Wan told him with a sad smile, “But I fear we have no choice.”
“Explain, you shall,” Yoda told him sternly, leaning forward to peer at Obi-Wan.
“The force,” Obi-Wan told him, “I’ve never felt it be so insistent that I agree. I think whatever information the Mand'alor has will create a shatter point.”
There was chaos in the Council Chambers as everyone began to speak at once.
“Could there-?”
“We cannot give up one of our-,”
“The last time there was a shatter point, the Great Sith Wars had begun-.”
“You cannot be seriously thinking that-,”
“Who’s to say he won’t be hurt-?”
“We do not know this man-,”
“Silence!” Yoda demanded, banging his gimmer stick as he stared down the councilors, who silenced themselves at his demand, “Continue, you will, Master Kenobi.”
“My head has never hurt so bad,” Obi-Wan admitted, “It’s just like when Master Windu has one of his visions. And the force is screaming in my ear at even the thought of walking away. Whatever is to happen here- the force thinks that it needs to happen. I’m not any happier about it than you are but think about it-.”
He stopped, taking a deep breath to help steady his voice, “He wants a year. Just enough time for an heir. It would make sense that this is what he wants. I’ve got no reason to think that he will be harsh and if all he wants is a child then I could easily provide it. And we need this information. The force is telling me that.”
“He said at least a year,” Qui-Gon reminded him, “What’s to stop him if he decides he wants to keep you longer?”
“We will broker a time limit,” Obi-Wan countered, “Enough time to have a few children and then return. That way he won’t be able to keep me here forever.”
“I don’t like this,” Master Windu told him sternly, “Tell me honestly Obi-Wan. Do you think this information is worth it?”
Obi-Wan paused, listening to how the force whispered in his ear, telling him that he was on the right path. It seemed so sure and it had never led him wrong before.
“I really do,” Obi-Wan told them again, “I think that this needs to happen.”
“Then we will respect your wishes,” Master Windu sat back in his chair, pinching the bridge of his nose as he talked, “You will broker a deal no longer than five years, Master Kenobi. And you will detail everything in the agreement that you think is necessary.”
“Of course,” Obi-Wan agreed.
“ Everything,” Master Windu stressed.
“I will,” Obi-Wan lied, “Of course.”
The truth was Obi-Wan knew that he needed whatever information it was that the Mand'alor had. He worried that should he broker a deal too specific that the man might take offense to it. The force seemed to agree with him as he wrote in a few clauses to protect himself but he didn’t go any further than he thought absolutely necessary.
No forced sex, no hitting him, a month in between pregnancies, and the ability to see his children should he wish. He had no doubt in his mind that a man who’d grown up as a Mandalorian- a group that valued children above all else in their society- would take good care of his offspring but he feared that the man might try to cut off Obi-Wan’s own ties. He couldn’t let that happen.
In the end, it didn’t matter what he put in there at all. The man barely read past the part that stated Obi-Wan was to bind himself to the planet and the Mand'alor for at most five years and then signed the document, much to the dismay of the council around him.
“I know all that I need to know,” Jango had told them simply, “Anything else can be discussed at a later date.”
It was relieving that the man wouldn’t try to push back on the things Obi-Wan had been ready to fight him on. It left him wondering if he should have added more to it but the force whispered reassurance in his ear and instead he took a deep breath.
“Then you are aware that until we have our intelligence this deal has not been secured,” Obi-Wan said, and the man nodded.
“Of course, Jetii,” he said, “But you will have no information about your assignment until the council has been satisfied and you start your service here.”
“And if I say I think I might already know what this is about?” Obi-Wan asked.
Jango’s head shot up, eyes searching Obi-Wan’s expression before he stood.
“Leave.”
Obi-Wan thought for a minute that the man might have met him and that he had already ruined their deal but then the councilors were leaving and Jango was in his space, their noses nearly touching as the older man clenched his jaw.
“Then you know why it must remain a secret until such a time that it would be safe for all parties to know,” Jango murmured to him, expression serious, “This could cause a lot of problems for everyone involved if people were to know before it was time.”
“I agree,” Obi-Wan nodded, nearly breathless as the scent of the oil used on the Beskar and a slightly more spiced, musky scent overtook his senses.
“Then after the mission for the Jetii has been complete you will not argue against what’s been decided here?” Jango checked.
“No, I will stay however long it takes,” Obi-Wan agreed, “But I don’t think it will take nearly as long as you think it will. Unless there’s to be more than one.”
“No,” Jango shook his head, “Just the one. That is more than enough.”
“Then I’d say your prediction of a year isn’t far off at all,” Obi-Wan assured him softly, “Although perhaps fifteen months might work better. The hardest part is the separation.”
“You’ll have as long as you need,” Jango assured him softly.
“Then I suppose you should pass the information on,” Obi-Wan told him, stepping back even as his face colored a bit. It was embarrassing but he was grateful that he was at least attracted to the man. It would make everything much easier and the fact that he was allowing Obi-Wan all the time that he needed made something soft bloom in his chest. It was relieving to know that the man didn’t seem like the type to be cruel and Obi-Wan knew that as long as he was pregnant that he’d be taken care of to ensure the safety of the man’s heir.
“If you set it up I will comm them now,” Jango agreed, “I think that they should hear this as soon as possible.”
Obi-Wan had always believed in being guided by the force, even when people told him that it was most likely more his instincts than the force whispering in his ear.
This time he was more then grateful that he’d listened to what it had to say.
“An army?” Obi-Wan asked, unable to keep the shock from his voice.
“Only a few months ago they approached me,” Jango explained, “They wanted a donor for the clones that they are creating and they were hoping that using the DNA of a known warrior would bode well for them. I, of course, said no. I don’t need a bunch of people with my face running around in name of the Republic, no matter how many credits they were offering.”
“Just how many credits did they offer that they were so sure they could bribe you?” Master Windu asked.
“A few billion,” Jango told him as he turned towards him, “It was enough to even make me stop and think. But I didn’t think that the Kaminoians would actually have that kind of money so I continued digging to see who was actual payrolling them. It took a few weeks but eventually I realized that there were ties to a Nabooian senator.”
“Why would someone from Naboo bank roll an entire army?” Master Mundi asked, “What would have been the purpose?”
Jango stopped, looking between Obi-Wan and the Council for a moment before sighing harshly. The Jetii would be helping him greatly, he knew that, and it couldn’t hurt to ensure that they were deeply indebted to him.
“This wasn’t part of the deal,” he told them sternly, “But at the end of this, I will owe your order- specifically Obi-Wan- more than I could ever repay. So I will tell you. The Banking Clan has been talking about the new rules the Senate has been imposing on them. Someone has assured them that should they chose to break away from the Republic that the newly created society might be more inclined to give them what they want.”
“You’re talking about secession,” Master Ti said, “There’s no way the Senate or the Chancellor would allow that.”
“It would make sense that they create an army if they are expecting to have to fight for their right to form a separate society,” Obi-Wan said, “But you said in the name of the Republic?”
“Yes,” Jango agreed, “I don’t think that Naboo will be one of the planets that secede. It does beg the question of how he knows and why he wouldn’t give this information to people that might be able to prevent it.”
“Perhaps he’s blackmailing them?” Koth suggested, “It would be worth it if he were profiting from it. He would create an army to ensure that we aren’t actually taken over but he could blackmail the Banking Clan for money.”
“But then spending billions of credits would be foolish,” Master Windu pointed out, “He’d be burning through the money that he was making much faster than he would be making it.”
“Perhaps he isn’t paying for it?” Obi-Wan suggested, “Maybe the Republic is paying for it. If they think these clones are to be for the Republic, wouldn’t it make sense that the government would be paying for the creation of the clones?”
“Either way, talk to him we must,” Yoda decided, “Find out what is happening, we shall.”
“Please keep me informed,” Obi-Wan requested, “I’d like to know how this all ends.”
“We will send word when we know everything,” Master Windu assured him, “And we will be sending some of your things. I know that you packed with the intentions of being there for a few days, not a few years. However, there are certain things that you do not have here that you may need.”
“I’ve got the credits that were afforded to me for this mission,” Obi-Wan told him, “I can use those.”
“I will provide you anything that you need for the duration of the stay,” Jango cut in, “You are not a prisoner. You will be well cared for.”
“Of course Mand'alor Fett,” Obi-Wan agreed, looking over at him with a stiff smile.
“We will check in with you shortly, Master Kenobi,” Master Windu told him, “Until then be safe. May the force be with you.”
“And with you,” Obi-Wan said, giving the council what he hoped was a reassuring smile.
As the holo cut off Obi-Wan took a steadying breath before turning to the older man.
“Will I be staying with you?” Obi-Wan asked.
“Yes I believe that will make things a bit easier,” Jango agreed, “If you don’t mind. I suppose I could get separate accommodations somewhere in the city if you think it will be a problem.”
That didn’t seem like much of a choice. Either he was to stay with the Mand’alor or he was to stay outside the castle as if he were some sort of mistress. He didn’t want anyone else to know anything that they didn’t have to and if he were to be pregnant and barefoot he’d rather no one else be around to witness it. No one had to know that Obi-Wan Kenobi- the Great Negotiator that was called for by name across the galaxy to help - would be nothing more than a broodmare for a ruler from a planet that considered the Jedi to be their enemies.
It wasn’t just a way for the man to have an heir. The boost to his reputation once the entire galaxy knew that he’d managed to shackle a Jedi to his bed to bear his children alone would have most likely made it worth the information he’d given up.
Nobody would be calling for Obi-Wan by name after this unless they were hoping that he would do the same for them but that would be okay. He wasn’t with the Jedi to gain accolades and notoriety. He’d wanted to make a difference and this might have been the biggest difference that he could have made.
Ending a war before it began would be his legacy, even if that’s not how the rest of the galaxy would view it.