Archive of Our Own ^beta

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To: LIST: Para’s Ven’riduure
From: [email protected]
Subject: Messages - First Blackout Relief

Ner cyarese,

Seventeen’s reply has reached me fine. I’m quite thankful to you all and though it makes my heart ache to be apart from you, these notes do remind me that you are waiting for me. It eases some of the strain of being away from you.

Tarre insists that I relay his bastardy in that he promises to take care of me. Cassus tossed him out the window of my makeshift study.

For the most part, our people are the well behaved ones of this conference, and I’m terribly proud of them for holding their tongues towards each other. At least, they are holding their tongues compared to the snipping and simpering that happens among the Republic party, of which I am quite tired of, We are only two weeks in and I am already exhausted of the Republic. I understand that they are many different cultures but some of them have more in common than Mandalorians from different planets and yet they still rail against each other.

The Republic’s problems with each other aren’t even very interesting.

We have had some issues among ourselves, but most of those are being filed away to explode upon our return. I would suggest that things are set into place to make sure everyone can battle it out.

As it is, there’s a lot of communicating with spouses about other ways to handle the build up of steam happening today.

I hate it here.

I’ll be sending Kix his own mail, but please pass these messages on for the others.

Korkie: Keep your chin up, cousin. Tono showed me the message he received from Aden’tra, and the both of you need to find something to occupy your minds while we’re all gone. Ask Seventeen if he needs more help, wrangle your other cousins’ tailoring appointments, post ridiculous SekTek videos. I know you. You are great and creative and you have so much going for you. If you absolutely must, bother Pretend and RB. With love, Para.

Boba: Congratulations on your continued advancement you little brat. Do you think you could finish all of your secondary sciences before we return? If you need space from everyone, the palace library and the archives in both cities are open to you. Buir would be so proud of you. Your loving or’tat, Para.

Omega: Be a bit kinder on yourself, little sister. See if any of the mechanics might be available to teach you some new things. Get to know everyone else a bit more. Garden with Arla. This will all be over before you know it. I’m so proud of you for getting through this, but know that you can rely on other people. It’s important you learn that. Your sister, Para.

Paz: Hello baby. I miss you so much. I expect plenty of hugs when I get home. Make sure to give them to your other buire and your ori’vod, too. Remember, keeping up with your modules and your work with Ven’ti is important. Less than two months before I’m home, now! And then I think the entire family will have some nice, relaxing time off. Remembering you and your ori’vod back home is keeping me going. Be brave for me, kar’ika. I love you more than all the stars in the galaxy, Par’bu.

And to you three, thank you so much for supporting everything while I’m gone.

Ret’urcye mhi, kar’taylir darasuum,

Para

To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Subject: Advice - First Blackout Relief

My beloved boy,

I wish I was there to help you with all of this. If we’d had a chance for me to introduce you to Parliament, maybe this would not be so difficult for you. That I have taken many of the more level heads likely does not help.

I’ve attached a chunk of the discussions we’re having with the Republic, aside from the clone issue.

I do truly believe in your ability to do this job. Your ba’buir and I would not be relying on you for this if we did not. You know her well enough to know that is true.

I unfortunately have not had the time to give the issues you are having the time they deserve, between receiving Ven’ti’s mail and writing this, but I believe I still might have some advice that might help. Do not remind the former Death Watch members they lost—plenty of those who were on our side will remind them for you. Do remind them that they have an out—to become dar’manda. Be firm. Grit your teeth and glare if you must. Your spine is beskar, make sure they know that.

Take some time with Shin in the Forge. I think maybe the advice of a goran would help you.

My darling one, you shine so brightly that I can see it even here,

Your Par’bu

Para smooths their skirts, then grasps it in their hands and lifts it, just slightly, to have a bit better mobility. Ahead of them, Walon Vau stands up on a fallen long, and he extends his hand to help them up and over it. Kalan and Kal Skirata both take up the rear.

“Not a bad looking planet,” Skirata grumbles as Kalan helps him over the log. He adjusts his knee brace once he’s over it. “I can see why the pirates like it.”

“It’s an odd place,” Para says, not disagreeing but too chilled by the occasional dreams they’re having—memories of Jango’s of a terrible time in his life. “Not the worst location to speak with the Republic.”

Both men snort.

Kalan knocks xer shoulder against theirs and smiles.

“That woman,” Vau says, and he’s referring to Sati’bu they know, “is supposed to testify next week. Claiming you and confirming the relationship between your different clans.”

“She is,” Para agrees.

Skirata scoffs. “I do wonder how far she’s willing to go with this. She only signed up for this so you would fix her problems.”

Para hums. “And assuage her guilt.”

All three of their companions exchange upset looks.

“She’s doing it, though. She stumbles. All the time. But she is trying to be a good mother and a good leader. And to keep her promises.”

“Your buir would not like her,” Vau says, helping them over a rough patch of ground.

“Oh certainly not,” they agree, amused. “I don’t think he’d be the ancestor who had the most difficulty with her, though.” Cassus is actually the one to rage about her the most.

“Why did you say yes?” Skirata asks.

They hum. “Because I was tired. And I was hurt. And she was being honest, for once.”

“You think she can be trusted, then?”

“I doubt they’d be doing this if she couldn’t be,” Vau answers for them.

They incline their head.

The group of them is silent as they continue their little walk, at least for a little while longer.

“Are you happy?” Skirata finally asks. “With her as a buir?”

Para thinks about that a spell. “I am not happy with the increase in responsibilities, for myself and for my other aliit. But I am mostly happy. And I am proud she is my buir.”

“Then that’s enough,” Vau says. “You’re Jango’s child. And you make Mij happy. So we care.”

“Thank you,” they breathe.

Para curls up on their bed, a knit blanket spread out across their lap. Sati’bu is sitting at the end of the bed, a datapad in her hands.

“Is it odd that I miss your brother and sister?” she asks after an extended silence.

“No,” Para decides after a moment. “It just means you are used to them. And love them.”

“I didn’t expect to,” Sati’bu admits.

Para sits with that admission a moment. “You didn’t have to adopt them, either.”

“They’re your siblings. I couldn’t just...leave that distance between you,” she says, a little like grieving. Para doesn’t know her entire story, probably never will, but it does make her wonder. About Bo-Katan, about Korkie’s mother. The three sisters’ odd father, their absent mother.

“And now you love them.”

“I do. I’m glad that what I’m going to be talking about won’t just be for you. I love you, and it started for you. But now it’s for your siblings too. And for Kix.”

Para smiles.

“I’m worried that they’re going to attempt to use the other sessions as a way to chisel away at what we’re doing for the clones,” she admits, and Para’s face falls again.

“Right. They have a vested interest in that.” They sigh and scrub their face. “But we’re going to succeed. I know it. We have too many fail-safes in place. They’re so certain that the clones will stay no matter what. They don’t realize that I know how to talk to them.”

“Or that the Jedi, mostly, agree with us.”

They hum. “As an organization at least. I’m sure some of them are more attached to the Republic, and see it as a betrayal. Some of them might see it as a personal betrayal, thinking about all they’ve done for them. People are complicated. Even Jedi.”

Sati’bu frowns, but she doesn’t argue. “What should we do about some of the things the Republic is pushing for,” she says instead, “that could impact the clones negatively.”

“Point out we can’t ratify anything without the Parliament, as we have been doing. Point out we aren’t a member of the Republic and do not plan to be.” They laugh. “They keep forgetting, and they end up not remembering that we have the opportunity to walk away from all of these deals the moment they no longer suit us, honestly. With individuals, at least.”

Sati’bu laughs. “I think I do too,” she admits. “Despite having continued the long-standing separation.”

“I do believe our ancestors would come back to life just to kill us all if we decided to join the Republic,” they tell her wryly. “Dara is pissed off enough that we’re entertaining these little alliances.”

“Dara ended up the lackey of a Sith emperor and lead the largest destruction the galaxy has ever known under that direction.”

“And enjoyed it,” Para adds with a wince.

They ignore the horrified look Sati’bu gives them.

“But he’s hardly the only one who distrusts the Republic,” they point out.

“No,” she allows. “And their example in that is probably one we should follow in.”

“State your name, your Grace?” the staffer asks, the same staffer who had posed the proper questions to Para.

They shift slightly in their seat, pressing their arm against Ashiba’s.

Ashiba presses back, comforting.

Sati’bu answers with aplomb, face as stony as if she was carved out of marble. “Satine Kryze, head of House Kryze and Duchess of Mandalore, Countess of Arraiy and Merrooi on Kalevala.”

“Thank you, your Grace. What is your relationship with Para Mereel-Fett?”

“I am Para’s adopted mother; she is my daughter and my heir as head of House Kryze.”

The staffer nods along. “And what is your relationship with the clones that make up the Grand Army of the Republic?”

Sati’bu shifts slightly, her back straightening even more than usual. It turns her petite frame into something statuesque, especially as she levels a disapproving look at the poor staffer, who winces. “As Para’s parent who is not of the clan she represents, I am considered a custodian of the clan. It is this role that connects me to the Fett clones.”

“And you have to take that role, culturally?”

“No,” Sati’bu allows, inclining her head almost imperceptibly. “I only take that role because I feel it is important to my family. I only take that role because it is necessary. In other situations, the custodian role is not necessary. When you consider the expansiveness, of this situation, however, and the considerable connection it has directly to my daughter, my accepting of the position is a duty.”

“No one would blame you for not taking this role, though?” the staffer still prods.

“I would,” Sati’bu says, voice ice cold. “I would blame myself for not taking the role.”

The staffer stares for a long moment, then swallows visibly and nods. “You agree with your daughter’s determination that the clones are part of her clan, legally?”

“I do.”

“Is there any reason that would not be the case?”

“Even if Para Mereel-Fett Kryze were not my adopted daughter, I would agree that she is correct in her determination that the clones are part of her clan. She is following Mandalorian law. Unless an individual does something completely anathema to being Mandalorian, they are not cast out of their clan completely, though children may cut ties with their parents. And those instances of being cast out of their clan, and Mandalorian society, are determined legally, per individual, by the clan leader.”

“There is no one ahead of your daughter to be the leader of the clan?”

“No. Both of her siblings are younger than her. Her aunt is not only not mentally capable, she also abdicated her rights to the position. It is only Para.”

It’s not what the Republic wants to hear, Para knows. They’re trying to break the Mandalorian defence, to cause a breakdown of what they believe and what they are fighting for. And it’s not working. Some in the room already knew this. Some it is dawning on them now. And some will soon learn that it is the case.

The staffer nods again, hands clutching painfully at the datapad they record proceedings on. “Thank you, your Grace. That is all for today.”

“And thank you,” Sati’bu says, just as Para had. And like Para had, she stands gracefully and the Mandalorian party follows her lead, moving as one out of the room being used to record testimony.

Tea with a member of the Republic party is becoming a habit, only days after testimony is given by a member of Para’s family. This time, at least, Padmé Amidala requests it well ahead of time, even before the testimony was given.

Para does not particularly look forward to it, but she gives enough respect to make a show of her choice of guards.

Some of the Republicans might think that Ashiba and Daria are weaker, not just because of their gender expression but because of their lean builds and short statures. Those Republicans are idiots.

But who is Para to not use an insult to their advantage.

So Ashiba and Daria stand guard and Amidala comes, along with a staffer who carries the tea tray this time, and she sits primly on the chair offered to her, across from Para.

Para watches her carefully and does not move to pour the tea. The staffer does instead, before leaving. “It’s nice to see you again, Senator Amidala,” they say softly.

“And you, Mand’alor,” she says, still prim. “How is your family?”

“They are well.”

She twists her lips, a small tick, clearly thinking. “How are the former Guard?”

Para raises their eyebrows. “Every member who was in recovery is, at this point, well healed. They are all finding positions they have decided suit them, and they are integrating well into our society. Many have been adopted by Mandalorians who were close to them on Coruscant, before they fled the planet with them in a show of solidarity.”

“Oh,” she says, “Good. Good.” She sips her tea.

Para nods. “How are things on Coruscant?”

She brightens around the eyes, just slightly. “Obi-Wan is spending time helping Anakin heal physically. He’s glad for the break, and, well… Anakin is doing alright. He’s coping. And he’s finally talking to someone about what happened on Tatooine.”

Their eyes narrow a hair. “You?”

“No, not me,” she says, and then she must catch on to what she’s admitted. “...I thought I loved him, you know. And that he loved me. But I wonder now.”

“I know what it’s like. To be in someone’s sights like that,” they say, giving her an out. “I didn’t ever think I loved him, but it was suffocating. I can only imagine what I would have forgiven if he broke me.”

Amidala stares at them for a long moment, uncomprehending.

“Sati’bu found me after I had been kept as a concubine by the leader of Death Watch for over a year,” they explain.

“And you made her free you.”

Para looks at her sharply, looks at the sympathy on her face. “No. I was barely conscious and from what others have told me I was nearly catatonic at the time. I value free will, Senator Amidala. Words mean nothing if they are not true. And if I changed things by holding someone in my power, which I don’t know how to do, they would just change them all back when I lost that control. It is not sustainable.”

Amidala reels back, chastened. “I didn’t mean—. I just know that the Force can be used to influence people.”

“Weak willed people,” Para says softly. “I would not call Satine Kryze weak willed. And I would not call you that either, Padmé Amidala. We are all strong women here.”

Amidala flushes angrily, but she doesn’t say anything on that. Instead, she changes the subject to asking about Para’s wardrobe. She questions the fabric and the style and makes impressed noises and Para suggests that after the war they figure out some way their favourites might collaborate.

She leaves and a different staffer comes to take the tea tray, and then Daria and Ashiba drop into seats and Para shuts the door with a wave of the hand.

“Ohhoho, I loathe her,” Daria says, slinging herself across her chair. “Sanctimonious—.”

“I know, bur’cya. But she’s a good ally once she’s swayed to your side. Unless you go completely off the rails. We can see that from Anakin Skywalker,” Para says.

Daria still grumbles.

“Are you alright?” Ashiba asks, though. “You don’t like thinking about Concordia.”

“No,” they agree. “I do not. But I’ll be alright. I have others I can speak to so I may calm down.” They relax their hands where they find they’ve clenched them painfully, little crescents of dripping red are bitten into their palms.

Ashiba sighs and digs out some antiseptic and bandages out of her belt. “I’m going to call Baar’ur.”

“Alright,” they say, not fighting it.

Dara tucks himself around Para’s curled up body. Behind them is the phantom feeling of Cassus rubbing their back.

“I hate this,” they say into their own shoulder. “I should be over this.”

Jaster sighs from the end of the bed. “Darling child, that is not the kind of trauma that someone gets over. You should be gentle with your scars. The mental ones as much as the physical.”

“Recovery isn’t linear,” Cassus reminds them, stroking their hair. “You know this.”

Dara hums. “You didn’t have to reveal that trauma. She did not deserve to know, ba’ad.”

“It was easier,” they mutter.

“An easier time with the politician and hours upset after. You had to cancel all of your meetings for the rest of the day. Your baar’ur is panicking,” Jaster says.

“Akel is used to it,” Para points out moodily.

Dara holds them closer. “You killed him,” he reminds them. “He can never hurt you again. You won, totally and completely. His son calls you and your ven’riduure his buire. His organization is gone, the splinters once again working with the rest of our people. He has failed, to break you and to break Manda’yaim. And anyone else who tries it will have a very dark surprise coming for them.”

They giggle wetly.

“Cry, cyarela ba’ad,” he whispers. “Cry and sleep and let yourself take a while off. You are doing so much.”

To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Subject: Re; Messages - First Blackout Relief

Allow us to get these over with first :p

From Korkie: Thank you for the advice you busybody. How you have time to write off extremely pointed missives for me when you should not know at all what I’m up to is terrifying. I know Aden’tra’s mail to Tono wasn’t nearly as comprehensive as would have been needed for that all. Just for that I’m posting a blooper reel on your SekTek.

From Boba: Challenge accepted. Take care of yourself. Don’t want you to come back sick – Boba

From Omega: I’m gardening with Arla now. It’s actually not that bad. And I’m working with some of the mechanics. Maybe you were right. Boba and I are going to work on something for you when you come home!

From Paz: I miss you too! I love you and I miss you and I love Mij’bu and Ven’ti’bu and For’bu but I miss you. Over a month is too long! This month isn’t even over yet. But I’m going to be brave, just like you said. Even if I do miss you!

Back to Fordo. Kix is also making a fuss, let me tell you. He cried for over an hour after your mails came in. But he’s doing better with Parliament already, and he’s been sitting with Shin a lot.

She’s a good influence.

Mij and Ven’ti both say to ask Cassus to toss Tarre out a window again, if you don’t mind. Even if we really do appreciate that someone is looking after your heart over there.

Thorn got himself in some trouble, you’d be delighted to know. Thankfully they didn’t lose much in chiselling him out and he just had to be hosed off after. RB and Pretend have officially moved in together, to take care of some of the littles. But we all know that it’s just an excuse to get used to living together. Some of the more scientific minded of us have started bothering the hospital and now Baar’ur Hiralan is making noise about inviting some Kaminiise. Horrifying prospect in my opinion.

A month and a week, ner cyare.

We’ve decided that each of us will cycle every week, consolidating everything. And we’ll let Kix do the last one. Mij said that he’ll only do one, and Ven’ti and I will share after him. Love and miss you.

Fordo