A Match for the Mandalore

Jennet



I ran down the corridor to the female dorm, and grabbed my robe. I zipped into the ‘fresher, took the quickest shower in the history of the universe, and trotted back to the dorm, toweling my hair. I hauled on my clothes, and paused, Canderous’s shirt in my hands. I thought about giving it back, but didn’t want to. Deciding if he needed it, he’d ask, I held it to my face, breathed deep of his scent, and tucked it into my footlocker. Barefoot, I headed to the common room, an insanely happy smile on my face.



Canderous was already waiting for me, hair damp, in fresh clothes and barefoot as I was. There was a bottle of firewhiskey at his elbow with two glasses. I stopped to admire the lines of his large body and wished we could just go back to his bed, right now. My smile faded as I remembered that we were leaving in a few days. Privacy, not to mention opportunity, would be nonexistent. Well, we’d deal with it then.



I sat down, and Canderous put his arm around me. I snuggled close, smiling. I looked up into his craggy face and his blue eyes met mine with a look of satisfaction and desire that made me quiver and wish for about twelve hours of uninterrupted privacy, a large bed, and soundproof walls. He kissed me, hard, and I shivered.



Finally, I wiggled away. We needed to talk, and if I was touching him I couldn’t think straight. He seemed to understand this and didn’t protest when I grabbed a folding chair and sat on it backwards, facing him and putting a respectable distance between us. I folded my arms over the chair, and considered what to say. To my surprise, he beat me to it.



“Your forfeit. You wanted to know why I don’t use my given name here. Well, it’s a bit of a story, but we have some time. If I know Ladria, she’ll keep everyone off the ship for at least another couple of hours. There’s a few things we need to talk about, I think.”



I nodded. “You first,” I said.



He shrugged, and poured himself a drink. “Want one?” he asked, and at my nod he filled the other glass and handed it to me. I sipped appreciatively. I was earlier in the day than I usually would drink, but what the hell, I had a feeling I’d need it.



“About five years ago, I traveled on this ship with a different group of people, and we ended up saving the galaxy.” There was no boastfulness in his tone, just matter-of-fact. “The leader of our little band was a woman named Cryssana. T3 was there too, and Bastila Shan, Jolee Bindo, Ju’hani, a Twi’lik named Mission Vao, a wookie named Zaalbak, and Carth Onasi. That assassin droid, HK-47 was there too.”



I whistled in appreciation. I knew most of those names. My parents didn’t have any direct contact with the Order, but they did have friends they had kept in touch with, who would pass along news. I’d kept up the contacts after Mom died. Bastila, Jolee and Ju’hani were practically legends, and who didn’t know Carth Onasi, hero of the Republic? There had been rumors all over the galaxy about them, and then the Jedi civil war hit, and the rumors faded to nothing. I didn’t remember Canderous’s name among them, though, and I’d never heard of Mission Vao, Zaalbak, or Cryssana.



“As it turned out, Cryssana was actually Revan, the Jedi that had defied the Order and along with Malak, convinced many Jedi to join the war against my people.” At my gasp of recognition, he paused. “Yeah, it was a shock to us too, including Revan. The Jedi had captured her, impressed her with a new identity, and she had no idea at all of it until we were captured by a Sith vessel, the Leviathan. The commander, Saul, Onasi’s former superior, told Onasi, Bastila, and Revan. I understand Carth killed him. I was there when Revan defeated Malak, and we destroyed the Star Forge.”



It took him about forty minutes to tell the whole story. I listened, fascinated, until he was done. “Anyway, we were declared Heroes of the Republic, gave us medals and everything. Imagine, me, a Mandalorian, being honored by the very people that had nearly destroyed my race. It was – interesting. Afterward, I left and started to seek out the remnants of my people, declaring myself the Mandalore, and gathering as many as I could find on Dxun. I’ve been trying to rebuild my people for the last five years. Then Ladria and her band arrived at Dxun, and you know the rest.”



I thought about what he had said, and was impressed again. But…”That doesn’t tell me why you chose not to let them know who you were.”



“I’m no hero. If I told them my name, chances are at least a couple of them would recognize it, especially Ladria. Actually, she does know; told me so just before we went to Dantooine. But I’m also sure she hasn’t mentioned it to anyone. I didn’t want any of them to think I was coming along for the wrong reasons. I wanted to help, yes. But I also wanted to use the opportunity to find more of my people. To travel with the name of a Hero of the Republic was more conspicuous than I thought was safe, for the people I was allying myself with, and my own peace of mind.”



“I guess that makes sense. So, I’ll just be careful to call you Mandalore.”



“I don’t think it matters much, now. Things are insane - the Jedi decimated, the Republic hanging by a thread. My own people aren’t organized or numerous enough to make any sort of real stand against this threat. Who I am is the least of the problem. I like the sound of my name in your mouth, anyway,” he smiled roguishly. I smiled back.



“Now, I need to talk to you about what happened to you when we fought, and why I owe you an explanation.”



I looked at him, astonished. “What in the galaxy do you mean? You had nothing to do with that.”



“I think I did.”



I just stared, completely bewildered. “How?”



“There’s a condition among my race that occurs during battle. We call it ‘battle ecstasy’ and almost every Mandalorian experiences it when they fight. It’s different from the usual rush most fighters get. More intense, like being on battle stims; it increases awareness, constitution and reflex, while suppressing pain. During war, a connection is often forged between the warriors fighting that allow us to unite and merge this ecstasy, not unlike Jedi Battle Meditation. I think that’s what you felt; my battle ecstasy. But because you weren’t prepared for it, and neither was I, instead of helping you, it overwhelmed you, and blinded you to your Force ability.”



I gaped at him. “Does this happen to you a lot?”



“Feeling it, sure, all the time. Sharing it…it’s never happened with an outlander, ever. I’ve never heard of it occurring with any other race.”



“But what can that mean?”



“You’re absolutely sure you have no Mandalorian blood at all?”



“Pretty sure,” I said. “I know my parents were from Telos and Onderon. I don’t have any family left to check further.”



“There’s a way we can check.” He pulled out a small device from his stim pack, which was sitting on the seat next to him. I hadn’t noticed it before. “A small blood sample is all it takes.”



I wasn’t thrilled with this notion; it was too much like checking for metichlorides, like the Jedi. But what the fuck, the Jedi were almost extinct, and it was perfectly obvious I had enough to have been a Jedi. So I put my hand on the pad, felt the prick as the needle poked my fingertip, and watched as it analyzed my blood.



Canderous’s face was stoic as ever, but I saw the complex emotions run across it anyway. He didn’t seem terribly surprised, actually, but definitely didn’t know what to make of the situation. Actually, that was wrong – he did seem to have an idea, but wasn’t sure he was right.



“None at all,” he said calmly. “Well, this is interesting indeed.”



“You said that the ecstasy increases awareness, and I know that the stims do too. Maybe between that, and my Force awareness, things just got crossed. I was, after all, concentrating on you. And I wasn’t, the first fight.”



“That would be a nice, safe, tidy answer.”



“You don’t buy it, though.”



“No.”



“You gonna share, or do we play twenty questions until I lose patience and beat it out of you?”



“I’m not sure you’ll like it.”



“Try me.”



He ran a hand through his hair and down over his face. He appeared to be trying to find words. “Well…it could be that you’re my mate.”



“Huh?!”



“I told you you might not like it.”



“I didn’t say that!” I snapped.



A pleased look crossed his craggy features. “Well, that’s a start.”



I growled something unflattering. He just grinned again. Then his face sobered, and he looked like he was trying to find words again.



“I was married once,” he said abruptly.



And the revelations just keep coming. I gaped at him, then reconsidered. I knew he was considerably older than me. It only made sense he’d had a family at one time. I was pretty sure he wouldn’t be with me if he still had a wife around, ergo, he was single now. Although, to be honest, I wasn’t sure enough about Mandalorian mating habits to know if casual sex outside a marriage was taboo. I couldn’t imagine any Mandalorian male being okay with his wife sleeping around, but the reverse didn’t necessarily have to be true. Maybe it was an accepted practice. But the operative word here was once.



“What happened?” I asked quietly.



“My wife and children were killed during the obliteration of Malchor V, my home world.” I saw pain briefly flash in his eyes. “We’d been married ten years. Cardus was eight, Garic, six, Edwin, four, and Etta, two”



“I’m sorry,” I said, and went over to him, putting my hand on his arm. He looked at me, and smiled tightly.



“It was a long time ago. I think about them now and then, but I haven’t really thought about Gerda, my wife, in years. You remind me of her, a bit. Not to look at; you’re tiny and blonde, she was tall, and sturdy, blue eyes, and had black hair down to her waist. But…she could fight, and would yell at me when she was mad, and hit me when I deserved it. She was brave, and a good cook. A good woman,” He said simply. “We married young, most of my kind do, by arrangement. Her family and mine were allies. It was a good match.”



“Did you love her?”



“We don’t use that word much. By your standards, perhaps not. By mine, yes.”



“What do you know about my standards?” I said, a little irritably. I stopped, and thought how horribly rude and selfish that sounded, considering we were talking about his dead family. “I’m sorry,” I said, contrite.



“Don’t be. Like I said, it was a long time ago. Losing my family and home world made me, like most Mandalorians, give up on a lot of things for a long time. Most of us didn’t have a sense of identity or honor anymore. I certainly didn’t until Revan came along with her crazy crusade. She made me see things differently, and it was largely because of her influence that I decided to try and help my people instead of just fading off like most of them, drifting through the galaxy. I was tired of drifting. I wanted something of my life back.



“As to what I know about your standards,” he said gruffly, and I started a little. He could sure keep track of conversation threads, I’d give him that. “I would expect that your notion of love involves a lot of sharing of feelings, and understanding each other’s point of view, and that your mate’s well-being and happiness is more important than your own. When your mate isn’t there, you feel you’re missing a vital part, and you get a little crazy if you can’t see them regularly. And very happy when you can.”



I laughed a little; I couldn’t help it. Blunt and clinical as his tone had been, he did get the essentials. “That’s about it, yes. To my way of thinking, real love should be that you’re not really whole without your, er, mate and that you’re better together than apart. I don’t want to be like Mother, and just fade away if my mate dies, but I do want to love that much. I just always thought that I’d know that I’d met the right man if he became my whole world, in a good way, and I became his. Not that I’ve ever had time to find one; ducking the Jedi Order kept me from staying anywhere long enough to make real connections.” I eyed him thoughtfully. “I take it you and Gerda weren’t like that?”



He sat back in his seat a bit, stretching his long legs and putting his hands behind his head. His blue eyes were very bright and looked at me with an expression I didn’t quite identify. “Yes and no. She was important to me, and I was to her. I certainly put her and the children’s well being and safety ahead of my own. She saw to my comfort when I was home; I saw to hers. She was enthusiastic in bed, and seemed to appreciate me in that respect. She was a good mother, and I genuinely looked forward to seeing her when I’d been away.” His gaze was almost soft with remembrance. “But I was never wild to get home, or felt I couldn’t breathe without her, she didn’t drive me particularly crazy and I don’t think I drove her any more insane than a man usually drives a female. We had a good life, respect, and were comfortable with each other.”



“Sounds a lot like love to me,” I said wistfully.



“Like I said, by my standards, it was. There are times now I wish I had told her; I think she would have liked that. But Mandalorians aren’t given to speaking about it, she probably would have just shrugged and told me what was for dinner.”



I laughed at that. “Very romantic. I wish I could have met Gerda. She sounds like she was an interesting woman. I think I would have liked her.”



“She would have liked you too.” His voice was the warmest I’d ever heard it.



“I told you all this because I want you to understand how being my true mate is different than what my life was before. And maybe how it’s different – or similar – to your own expectations of a mate.” He paused, and didn’t seem inclined to continue right away.



“I’m not entirely buying this, but I’m willing to listen. What is different, and how do you know for sure? Is there a test, or anything like that? Blood samples? Written exam? Trial by combat?” I was being a tad sarcastic, partly because I was trying hard to suppress the rush of warmth that had hit me when he had suggested it in the first place.



He looked at me, not fooled by my tone, but ignoring it. “Actually, if it comes to proving the connection to my people, yeah, something like that.”



“What?!” I yelped.



“I’m the Mandalore. I could only claim an outlander as my wife if I could prove she was my true mate. There are ways to. You’d have to stand trial, sort of, as would I. We pass the tests, and you’d be accepted and revered as the Mandalore’s mate. If not, and I refuse to put you aside, I would lose my position and another would take the helm of the Mandalore. We could stay, of course, but you especially would not have a comfortable time of it. I’d live with a lot of scorn for marrying an outlander, and you’d be nearly a nonentity.”



“If you did put me aside?”



“I’d have a lot of fights on my hands until I was forgiven, and proven to have gotten over my insanity. It would take years, most likely. If I didn’t put you aside, and left, I’d be an outcast, and my history and family would be struck from Mandalorian records and eventually, memory.”



“That’s a lot to risk.”



“Perhaps. We’re few enough and scattered enough that living as an outcast isn’t as bad as it would have been when my people were strong.” He leaned back again, and looked at me seriously. “If I can prove you’re my mate, however, my place at Mandalore is proven without a doubt.”



“Huh? Why would it?”



“Because the Mandalore is the one person of my race that is supposed to have a true mate. My wife and family are dead. If I had a proven true mate, my place would be secured.”



“And it wouldn’t matter if she was an outlander?”



“No.”



I looked at him, eyes narrowed. “This sounds awfully convenient to me.”



“I figured you’d say that.”