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Intransigent
Silver lining

Silver lining

To be honest, the first year or two of my new life had me finally understanding why infants would cry so much. Teething was an absolute bitch, I was constantly hungry, and the feeling of liquid excrement completely covering my most delicate bits was something I never wanted to experience, yet I did constantly for this entire period of time.

My mother also seemed to be a first time one, because she seemed confused most of the time and would often make small mistakes when taking care of me.

If that hadn't been enough, the temperature and climate was god-awful. I'm talking about the Devil's scrotum level of heat and Florida levels of humidity. Definitely sucks for sure.

And I might have also forgotten to mention the non-human sapients and the fact that there were two moons in the night sky.

That's right, I was reborn as a human, but on a completely different planet, and with aliens here.

Now, the fact that I genuinely shit myself after a month or two of being newly alive when I saw some 2 meter tall reptilian thing for the first time was less important in the grand scheme of things, when I recognized the creature next to it.

A Wookie.

Either this alien in particular was a massive fan of Star Wars and a cosplayer of some backwater planet's sci-fi creation, or I was reborn into the Star Wars universe.

Even with my less than stellar intellectual record, it was a no-brainer.

The realization was rough, especially for my mother when I became even more silent than I usually was, and that I would silently panic when seeing aliens.

It still took time for me to adjust, which wasn't easy, but I became mentally functional enough to not lose my shit completely when I heard my mother's name spoken aloud for the first time.

Shmi.

Planet that wasn't Earth. Two moons. Not allowed to leave the small little area we were in a few days after I was born. Mother's name is Shmi.

I wasn't just on in the Star Wars universe.

I'm Anakin freaking Skywalker.

It was both the best possible person to be, and also the worst possible person to be.

Looking back, it made sense that I was thinking normally instead of a reduced level like a newborn would obviously be. Weird Force stuff was the likely culprit, but I'm not going to look a gift horse in the mouth.

But, the thought of being the Chosen One filled me with equal amounts of dread and excitement.

One, I had the most potential in the Force of all time in history. Entire armies could be destroyed by me, and if I was blessed/cursed to be in the EU, I'm going to be a damned god in all but name. My son? did outlandish stuff, and my ability outstrips his.

Even if I was in the other kind, I was still a monster that would surpass everybody if I put my mind to it. Over 20000, as Obi-wan put it.

Ginger SOB isn't taking my legs. I thought icily, not fancying dismemberment and immolation.

If I can manage it, I'm getting Kenobi to lighten up. The guy obviously needed it, and I'll be the loving and supportive apprentice that helps him work that stick out of his posterior.

An errant thought then went through my head, my legs twitching as I lay in my tiny little crib, still thinking of what this little revelation would cause.

The bad news with all of this is that I'm target number one for multiple people, including the Sith and Jedi Order. The Jedi are a definite no for long term things, either way. They wouldn't like people like me. I enjoyed fighting, my pity was non-existent, and I plan on murdering more than a few people.

Not exactly very Jedi like.

Sidious was a bastard either way, and the only good thing he did was make sure Plagueis didn't reach god level with his broken Midichlorian alchemy crap, or whatever it technically was.

If this is that barebones, next to no physical immortality for you Nucanon stuff, I'm killing Palpatine, telling the Order to piss off, and probably doing my own stuff for my own amusement. All I had to do was train like hell, probably from the Jedi unfortunately, and then kill the Sith, and leave the Order.

But if this was the EU…

Immortality through many means. I didn't want to die again, and there were several ways to live forever, but the enemies on the horizon will be hellish. The Clone Wars killed billions of people, the Galactic Civil War as well, but they were nothing compared to the Vong.

Or Abeloth.

I swore I felt a chill go through the air, even though it was daylight and the building was warm, in spite of only some sunlight directly coming through, when that thought hit me.

The next 80 years were going to be awful either way.

But hey, at least I probably get to bang Natalie Portman.

(LINE BREAK)

"Look at mama." Shmi cooed, trying to get her son to look into her eyes, "Show me your pretty eyes." She requested gently, holding up her little boy in front of her face.

She didn't know if it was normal for a child less than a year old to be this quiet, but it was concerning either way. He seldom cried, only when he was hungry or needed changed, and he was constantly looking around.

The depression she felt when she realized she and her little boy would not be freed by her now deceased master's relative, who owned them now, was only held at bay by the little bundle of joy that was her son.

"Please show mama your pretty eyes." She kissed her son's forehead, the boy finally making eye contact after that.

Good. She smiled, seeing how inquisitive and curious he was just from looking at him investigating the pen that was their dwelling in the palace.

To think such a beautiful and innocent thing could be brought from such a terrible act. Kane looked just like her, having her eyes and hair, judging from the tuft of dark curls that were identical to hers on his head.

Thankfully there was nothing to remind her.

"Kane Skywalker." She kissed his forehead again, noticing him squirm in her arms. "Such a beautiful name."

She would protect her precious child however she could, no matter the cost.

(LINE BREAK)

I stared at the cracked mirror, my legs beginning to shake as I steadied myself against the roughly assembled crib that was probably older than the Republic at this point.

It had been nearly a year since I was born, and several months after I made the discovery that resulted in the cracked mirror.

I wasn't Anakin.

My hair was dark, and my eyes were as well. And it wasn't just an AU where Shmi decided to go with Kane instead of Anakin.

The spike of anger that went through me at the realization caused the mirror to fracture, right along my reflection's face in a jagged series of cracks that almost resembled lightning.

Hence, the messed up mirror that wasn't replaced because we were slaves.

The months after the confirmation that I was Force sensitive were boring as I desperately tried to replicate the feat, but it wasn't working, even when I forced myself to rage at my circumstance in life and everything that made me want to kill in my past life.

It just wasn't working, no matter how much I relished in the memories of me doing unspeakable things to the bastard that ended up landing me being enlisted.

Damned. Useless. Legs. I growled internally, my pudgy little bird legs finally gave out and I fell backwards roughly, sighing at how weak I was.

I better be getting some compensation out of this. I glared upwards, knowing no deistic bastard was listening, because if I was being punished by one, I would've been stuffed into the body of Rey Skywalker.

I would've killed myself the moment I realized I had no penis. Galactic record for the youngest suicide in history right there.

So, if some random jilted god did this, it wasn't out of a sense of punishment. It meant I either randomly fell through the cracks of some soul highway to whatever afterlife there was, or some other random explanation that I didn't have the patience or desire to try and figure out.

Giving up on being a somewhat functional bag of meat for today, I crawled over to where my mother was at, fast asleep.

(LINE BREAK)

"Kane," Shmi scolded me, holding my hand tightly, "Do not stare. It is rude."

Not my fault his face looks like a scrotum with tumours on it. I wanted to say, but I decided not to unsettle my mother with word choices that were above the weight bracket of a two and a half year old child.

I was currently being shown around different parts of the palace we were in, the lower levels where the markets were specifically. The building, and us, were owned by our… owner whose name I couldn't remember.

With my now stellar ability to walk and talk properly, I was being shown areas that weren't just the abysmal slave quarters that resembled pits more closely than actual dwellings that were the only things I saw as a child.

I kept quiet as Shmi purchased our food for the next couple days with the small stipend we were given because I was still too young to be of any use working.

But that would soon change.

My faith in not murdering someone if they hit me when I reached my teens was non-existent. If I don't get freed before I regain the strength to snap someone's neck or drive a spike into some skulls, I'm going to end up more like Nat Turner instead of Fredrick Douglass.

Or the Haitian slaves that killed all the French, except I'd be the one getting killed in the end.

Ancestors, give me the strength to kill these things if I become a Jedi. I prayed, drawing upon the elation I felt when I discovered that my family tree has been full of war heroes since the Civil War and Revolution.

The blood that flowed in my veins had been shed in service of the Grand Army of the Republic once before, and I'd do it myself this time if it meant I could free all these people.

"Kane." Shmi gripped my much smaller hand a little tighter, her other arm holding a cloth bag. "Can you hear me?"

I blinked and nodded, realizing I'd spaced out.

"Yes, mama." I whispered, smiling up at her.

Shmi returned the smile and stopped me up, adjusting the bag so that I was held comfortably.

Knowing that she preferred to hold me, I didn't raise a fuss as I was babied and we left to go towards another section of the markets, the woman that was my new mother not realizing just how dark her little boy's thoughts were on slavers.

(LINE BREAK)

"No," I felt a smack across the back of my head as I botched two wires and a charge inhibitor being spliced together on the hover thing or whatever it was called, "Start over with a new one." The teenage male Twi'lek that was my instructor/overseer grabbed another from a pile and tossed it at me.

I just had to be curious about the technology of the galaxy and get forced training in parts and electronics.

I was four years old now and I had started being given tasks to do as a newly useful enough slave to put out a profit, mine and my mother's quarters being moved to a communal one where I was kept awake by partners screwing and other things that reminded me eerily of when we'd be out in the field for several nights and had to use latrines and other less than civil things.

My mother knew technical things fairly decently, having been taught by the kindly master that planned on freeing her, until said master died from a sudden illness and left Shmi in the hands of a bastard owner.

An owner who thought this was ideal teaching for a 'tech savvy' child.

Slavery sucks balls.

This Twi'lek, whose name I didn't bother learning, was tasked with making me useful at repairing things so I'd be more valuable than just a runner or some other slave because I exhibited some degree of intelligence unlike the other slave children my age.

My hands wrapped around the plastic-like material and metal, running my fingers along it as I disassembled it from memory, the phantom aches of getting smacked every time I made a mistake making my teeth grit.

Times like these were when I wanted to know how to actively tap into the Force so I could rip people's minds to shreds or break their bodies.

Like a robot, I went through the same motions of inspecting each part, comparing it to what I knew how they were supposed to look, and deduced that the CPU of the chip had burnt out and needed replacing.

I popped it out, pulled the botched one apart and extracted its CPU and put it in the newest one, switching it on.

The device hummed slightly and seemed to be working fine.

This device was probably the Star Wars equivalent of those cheap Dollar Tree solar lights that only worked half the time, but it was almost too sophisticated for me to understand the rudimentary aspects of it without being totally lost.

So, to actually get it to function made me feel a little better about myself.

"Good," My overseer said, scoffing as he attempted to take my success away from me, "You're not completely useless."

The glare I sent at him was probably ill-advised, given that I was struck the last time I did it. But I didn't care.

The overseer decided to try and hit me again like before, but I ducked the blow and chucked the newly repaired piece of equipment at his face as hard as I could, hitting him directly on the nose.

"Oh, I'm sorry." I said sweetly, not even trying to sound apologetic. "I didn't realize you weren't ready."

The next thing I knew, a fist smashed into my face and I fell to the ground, my vision spinning.

Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.

The Twi'lek stood over me with his fist clenched, a trickle of blood coming from his right nostril.

"I'm going to make you wish you were never born." He spat, kicking me in the gut.

I gasped from the hit, unable to draw breath on top of my vision spinning.

"Stupid." He kicked me again, "Little." Another. "Bastard." The final kick struck my temple as I tried to avoid it, my vision fading to black.

(LINE BREAK)

I'm snapping that tail head's neck when I get the chance. I growled internally, wincing as I shifted in my bed, my ribs screaming their protest as I tried to get comfortable after the end of the day.

My mother had been nearly hysterical at her little boy having shown up covered in bruises and some blood after being beaten, and it was the one and only reason I felt bad for starting a confrontation in the first place.

But what she said after ensuring I didn't have any broken bones had me feeling a cold rage flow throughout my being.

"Do not fight back."

Those four words encompassed what I hated most in the world. Apathy and inaction were two things that I detested throughout my entire life, especially when I saw something that wasn't right.

If I listened to that in my old life, I would've been some pathetic little creature scared of its own shadow. Me being violent and quick to action might have sent me down the path that finally resulted in my death, but I'd rather die the way I am than be something that I would never have considered worthy of being seen as a person.

"Do not fight back."

My fists clenched as I stared at the overseer watching all the slaves in the communal pits sleep at night, my eyes boring into his head.

This was even more debased than chattel slavery on ethnic grounds. This was naked force imposing on the innocent as it saw fit, regardless of background.

All this beautiful and wondrous technology that Earth would have killed to have, and they still treat sapients just as bad or worse than some backwoods shithole in Mississippi did before the automobile was invented.

"Do not fight back."

Anakin was obsessed with protecting his loved ones, vowing to be powerful enough to stop them from dying. He was a child traumatized by a cursed planet, and the Jedi did nothing to end slavery. Ivory towered bastards in every sense of the term.

"Do not fight ba-"

Shut up! I snarled, aiming all my rage and fury at the evil that I couldn't mentally tolerate at the overseer.

To my shock, the man fell over, clutching his head before he suddenly seized up, spasming like he was having a seizure.

The other overseer, a humanoid I didn't recognize, spoke into a comlink, requesting help as he held the man still.

What the hell? I just stared at what I just did, before I looked around frantically to see if anybody noticed.

Nobody was looking at me, all of the slaves that had woken up to the incident staring at the overseer on the ground instead of the random 4-year-old.

As they hauled the man away, it slowly dawned on me how completely out of depth I was.

I was barely able to breathe or think straight from how angry I was, and it only did something relatively insignificant in what a trained Force user should be capable of.

Either I needed to try and do bootleg meditation exercises that I had no idea what the first steps were to doing it properly, or I quietly stew until Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan hopefully show up…

On Tatooine, which was years down the road.

A slave, capable of immense power, but unable to unlock it to free myself or anybody else that didn't deserve this hand in life.

For the first time ever in this life, I truly cursed the name of whatever gods may be.

(LINE BREAK)

"Kane," Shmi looked at her son with a faint smile, hiding her apprehension as best as she could, "I'm going to have a baby."

Her son was a really sharp and attentive child, from what she had gathered from the other women that were mothers. It saddened her that her son could have been something great if their circumstances were different.

A pensive look on his face was all she caught, his brow furrowed adorably.

"Like the lady who's tummy got big?" He asked, to which she nodded.

"Yes, you're going to be a big brother." She smiled, even though her fear of what caused her to become pregnant a second time left her confused.

It wasn't like what happened with Kane. This time, there was no one. It just… happened.

Said little boy glanced at her stomach. "It'll get bigger slowly?" He asked inquisitively.

The intelligence her son often displayed had him figuring out that things a child normally wouldn't, and this was no different right now.

Shmi nodded and pulled her eldest child towards her, wrapping him up in a hug.

Whatever happened, she would do her best.

(LINE BREAK)

My mother was holding my hand as we went through the marketplace, the traffic higher ever since the cantina got renovated.

Some seedier types now frequented the establishment more often, and I had encountered some strange aliens I didn't recognize.

It didn't bode well for my quest in finding out what continuity I was in. The worry was almost killing me.

I had no idea if this part of Anakin's background, being owned by someone before Gardulla, was in the Disney continuity, but I wasn't hedging my bet on it yet.

"Stay close, Kane." Shmi said gently, her other hand cupping her noticeably swollen stomach.

It had been about seven months since she revealed that she was pregnant, meaning Anakin was bound to be born within a month or so.

It meant a couple of things. One, I was five or six years older than Anakin. And the other was that it was almost undoubtedly Anakin because I could feel him. What I could only describe as warmth and the sensation of seeing light were mixed together strangely when I was next to my mother, something that had only occurred once she was pregnant for a few months.

It also had the benefit of finally showing me what I needed to try and feel for when using the Force, but the best I managed so far was feeling 'sparks' of people. No freaky mind crap or telekinesis.

Shmi guided us right next to the cantina to a stall that sold nutrient dense rations that Shmi was to be given for the duration of her pregnancy. Unlike some slave owners, our… master actually valued healthy slaves and made somewhat of an effort to ensure that, which was probably why I didn't get anywhere near the amount of beatings I 'deserved' when I would antagonize the half dozen different overseers that I had to deal with on separate occasions.

Once Shmi began speaking with the human man that was running it, I looked around at the area, drinking in the sights.

I felt Shmi's grip loosen on my hand, still talking with the man. I let go and let my hand fall to my side, sticking right next to her.

Right as I was about to turn back to look at her, I saw something that had my eyes widening impossibly large.

A tall man in gray and blue armour, jetback strapped to him, and a helmet I could recognize from anywhere.

A Mandalorian.

I have never seen one in my entire life here. They tended to not frequent this particular area, probably because they're culture had no love lost for slavery, considering it to be a negative.

The armour was one of the most beautiful things I've ever seen, looking so much more than the cheap cosplay crap seen at conventions. It was actual metal, and of the kind that people on Earth could hardly dream of.

A few people steered clear of him, giving him a rather wide birthe for him to walk through.

He entered the cantina without issue, disappearing from my sight.

I must speak with him. I thought resolutely, knowing the right question to ask to determine whether I was in the Expanded Universe or Nucanon.

It was one of the few things I knew deviated massively that I could actively test, and it was perfectly explainable on why a 5-year-old who had never left his home planet would ask that.

I sneaked away from my mother, walking straight to the cantina to ask my helmeted friend what his home was like.

(LINE BREAK)

My gaze swept across the different tables, over a dozen separate species of people at different tables talking about whatever subject was of importance to them.

Most had blasters, bladed weapons, armour, or all three on them, making it clear to any watcher that they were of the type that didn't fancy being trifled with.

My eyes zeroed in on the Mandalorian I'd spotted, and he had company that he was in a heated discussion with.

At his table, another Mandalorian was sitting, wearing armour that was black and orange.

Justice and a lust for freedom.

Surprisingly, I only got a few side eye glances from the customers as I briskly walked to my target, everybody still being taller than me in spite of them sitting down.

The entire room smelt like close to a dozen things I didn't recognize, smoke from what was definitely not weed or tobacco wafting around. The chatter of different languages and types of vocal cords made a unique cacophony of sound that I would never have experienced on Earth, but it was interesting nonetheless.

I reached the table with the two Mandalorians after a few seconds of my much shorter stride carrying me there and I decided to address the first one I had seen.

Said man gestured with his head towards his friend, who turned to look at me as well.

"Kaysh adiik." The one in blue/grey said to his partner, which I assumed was Mando'a since I didn't understand a word of it. "You seem to be lost, kid. Where's your mother?"

The voice sounded vaguely familiar, but it might just be from the slightly modulated sound of his voice going through his helmet speaker that did that.

"She's right next to here getting food for my baby brother." I said happily, raising my voice a bit to sell the appearance of me being a curious and somewhat adventurous kid that saw two cool men in armour.

I couldn't read his expression because his face was completely covered, but I caught a faint huff of annoyance from him.

"Did she not tell you to not speak to strangers?" He asked rather seriously, leaning forward a bit, "There are dangerous people in the galaxy."

"Yeah," I said sheepishly, looking down for a moment, "But I wanted to know if you are a Mandalorian."

He probably didn't expect that, because he paused and refrained from responding immediately. But a chuckle came from the orange clad one at the innocent statement after a moment, the one I was speaking to not looking away from me.

"Did the armour give it away?" He asked dryly, before straightening his posture some and pointing at his chest. "We are Mandalorians." He nodded, giving me an answer I already knew, "Why are you curious?"

The other one in orange said something in Mando'a, which received a curt reply, then the man got up from the table and left, giving me a slight nod before he turned to walk towards the exit.

I was now alone with the one I could tell wasn't in the best of moods. It almost reminded me of one of my squadmates that had been a lifer, 18 years in and cynical as hell.

"Uh," I wondered how to word it, hoping it came off as nervousness, "I heard that planets can be cold and there are lots of mountains. Is your home like that?"

Mandalore was a totally bombed to a crisp wasteland in the new content, but it was still mostly intact in Legends. Sections of it were devastated during the war with the Republic thousands of years prior, but there were still good regions for several million Mandalorians to live on the planet outside of the city.

In contrast, this planet was humid and flatter than a pancake.

The Mandalorian tilted his head to the right, almost like he was curious.

"You've never seen anything other than this planet." He realized, more as a statement than a question as he came to that conclusion. "Makes sense… But my homeworld is called Mandalore, which is where we get our names from."

I paid rapt attention, not looking away from his helmeted face as he let out a faint sigh.

"Mandalore is much more rough than here. The planet is just as green, but more wild than you could ever imagine," He explained, his inflection rising the barest amount in spite of his overall demeanor as he talked of his home, "It is beautiful."

Legends. I couldn't help but smile widely. I was in Legends, what I wanted more than anything. I didn't care that I probably had the Vong, Abeloth, and other crazy shenanigans to deal with. So many techniques available that I could exploit were exclusive to Legends.

I could become immortal.

"Wow." I said quietly, blinking a bit as I absorbed it all. "What do you guys do? Everybody says you're big and scary, but I don't think you're monsters like they say."

At the word 'monster', I saw the index and middle fingers on his right hand twitch, the way he remained still otherwise being somewhat unnerving.

"We are warriors," He said simply, deciding to humour me, "All Mandalorians are. We get paid to fight for other people and we have our own culture and customs."

"What customs?" I asked excitedly, annoyed by my own tone of voice. I could only imagine how this guy felt at being pestered by a brat.

The next several minutes involved me being enraptured by the expanded Mandalorian culture of Legends being told to me by a real life Mandalorian, including the Resol'nare, the six guiding rules that ran through the very heart of their culture and purpose.

Speak the language.

Wear the armour.

Serve the clan.

Rally when called.

Defend your children…

And raise them as Mandalorians.

"Blood means nothing to us," He said, glancing across the room, "Human. Wookie. Togruta. None of it matters. Hold to the Resol'nare, and you will be Mando'ade; one of us."

I could almost feel that something was off. It was almost as if he read it from a script. No fire or passion in it, only cold detachment.

"So I could be a Mandalorian too?" I asked brightly, seeing his head tilt a few centimeters downward like he was staring at my eyes more closely.

"I'm not sure your mother would appreciate me adopting you into my clan." He remarked, "But you could become one."

At this point, I was just covering my tracks as just a curious child. The Mandalorians would be a very useful ally, or dangerous enemy, in the future. Assuming Qui-Gon and company show up in about nine years, I can hopefully bum my way to getting brought into the Order, and if that fails, well, there's other ways to learn how to use the Force.

No harm in having a reason to know about them.

"What's that sword thing right there?" I pointed at his single handed blade, a Beskad, if my memory served me correctly.

My current educator on all things Mandalorian shifted to show me, tapping the exposed hilt with his gloved palm.

"It is called a Beskad. And no, you cannot touch it." He added the last part right as I was about to ask.

Damnit. I thought irritably, wanting to feel how a Beskar weapon felt in comparison to the steel ones I had fun with before I enlisted.

"Well, how can I get my own?" I practically demanded, channeling my inner child with my tone.

"Be a Mandalorian." Was the laconic reply, making me twitch.

"So, I just need to learn how to speak, wear armour, and do all that other stuff?" I intentionally said it as insultingly as possible, wanting to get a better reaction. "That sounds easy."

It seemed to do the trick, because I think I detected a flash of something from him.

"No," The man's voice could have been carved from a glacier from how cold it sounded now, "There is more to being a Mandalorian than simply donning metal and learning words. We are an ideal, carrying the flame of a people that has burned for thousands of years, given to us by our predecessors."

He leaned closer to me, our faces only about a foot away.

"Ba'jur," He enunciated the pronunciation, "Teach. Raise your children to be Mandalorian, just as you are. Never forget where we come from."

For the first time, I knew for a fact that I felt something from him. It was too faint to tell what it was, only that it was more.

"Beskar'gam. Our armour. Wear the armour as if it were a part of you. More than just metal, it is our second skin that shows who we are."

He was close enough now that I could smell the faint traces of oil on the steel, not knowing if it was Beskar or Durasteel that made up the plates of his armour.

"Ara'nov. Self-defense. Defend yourself and your family, no matter the cost. Cowards are scum and have no honour." The anger he seemed to radiate over me was palpable, feeling strange as I was filled with resolve when I heard him say that.

Ara'nov… That word resonated with me more than any. I defended myself when I was fighting against bullies, and later druggies, in the street, and I defended my brothers overseas, killing as needed so we all returned.

Semper Fidelis.

"Aliit. Clan." The Mando'ade's voice cut through my thoughts like the sharpest of blades, "Clan matters. Family matters. Family is more than just blood, and you never forsake your family. Your mother and little brother, you love them?"

I bit my tongue to not respond harshly, insulted by how he tried to cast doubt on me.

Shmi was my mother. I hardly remembered my first mom, even though she was a kind and loving woman from what I remembered. She died far too young and my father had been killed in an accident before her.

"Yes." I gritted out, balling my fists as I fought the urge to punch him.

Being a child, I'd hurt myself. And he'd probably just laugh at me.

"Good, then you know what it means to have something worth protecting." The Mandalorian nodded stiffly, continuing with his explicit description of the Resol'nare.

"Mando'a. Language. The words that connect us all, a glue that ties us all together, regardless of what species we are. I speak it, as did Mando'ade thousands of years ago. Through this, we are one people."

It was one thing to be fascinated and kind of a fan of Mandalorians when reading Legends novels, seeing a sense of familiarity in them when I thought of the men and women in my unit. But it felt different to be told about them by an actual Mandalorian, who lived and breathed it. It wasn't just a neat thing from science fiction now, it was a living, breathing culture that endured calamity after calamity, but still stood strong.

"Mand'alor." The last word he said sounded off, almost like it pained him to say it. "That is the name of our leader, the most powerful of warriors that leads us against those who would harm us, and leads us in our wars."

I continued to stare at the T-visor where his eyes would be, being unable to read his thoughts.

"No matter where in the galaxy, if the Mand'alor calls for war, all Mandalorians must answer the call." He said, finally pulling away from me and sitting back.

I took a deep breath, exhaling to calm myself after receiving such a scrutinizing look from the armoured warrior.

"Who is the Mand'alor now?" I voiced aloud, already knowing from the timeline I knew to be accurate.

His posture stilled, his breathing barely visible.

"None right now," He said neutrally, glancing over my head at something, "But the last Mand'alor was Jango Fett, who has not been worthy of it for years." He added the last part in a bitter tone. It sounded like he personally knew Jango.

I wanted to try and defend Jango's reputation, knowing what he had experienced that caused himself to not feel worthy of the title, but I technically shouldn't know anything about him.

Right as I was about to thank the man for his time and leave, I heard a voice that made me wince visibly.

"Kane Skywalker!" My mother shouted, rushing towards me as fast as she could manage while in her current state, "What did I say about you wandering off?"

Her hand gripped my shoulder tightly and she spun me around, pulling me into a tight hug.

"Don't scare me like that again," She scolded me, leaning down as much as she could manage to get close to eye level with me, "You have no idea how frightened I was that you were gone and I would never see you again."

I shivered when I felt an echo of something horrible feeling, coming directly from the woman in front of me.

I didn't like it.

"I'm sorry, mama." I said, looking down at my feet with guilt running through me. "I wanted to say hello to the Mandalorian."

At the mentioning of said mercenary/soldier for hire, Shmi's head jerked upward and she looked at the man, looking apologetic.

"I'm sorry that my son disturbed your time, truly I a-" She stammered out an apology, but a silent raising of his hand and a shake of his head stopped her in her tracks.

"Your son is merely curious, not something that would inconvenience me. He wanted to know about our culture, so I educated him." The Mandalorian that had humored me rose to his feet, making me raise a brow.

He wasn't tall by any means, now that I looked at him more closely, but the way he carried himself made him look larger than even a Wookie, the very air around him seeming to bend to kneel before him.

"Make sure to listen to your mother, Kane," The Mandalorian said, giving my mom a nod before walking away, "And protect your little brother."

"Wait," I called out, the mercenary pausing several feet away from me, "You didn't tell me your name."

I wanted to know the name of the man who eased my fears and potentially saved my life by inadvertently revealing that I was in Legends years before I would have otherwise known. If we ever met and I was in a position of power, I would do him a favour.

His head turned to look over his shoulder, fixing me with that same indiscernible look that I'd been the recipient of on multiple occasions over the last several minutes of discussion.

"My friends call me Jango." He said, shocking me still as he kept walking after he revealed his name.

The familiar voice. The armour. The bitterness towards the current Mand'alor.

I barely reacted when my mom guided us back to our dwelling, the voice and armour of Jango Fett haunting my every thought as I watched him seem to vanish into a crowd of people, almost like a wraith in the night.

(END CHAPTER)

It appears now that our 'hero' has learned that he is in the Legends continuity from someone who is a little bit more than a no name character. Kane shall be a rather… fun character to write being in a bad circumstance like slavery.

As always, I hope you enjoyed the chapter and have a fantastic Sunday.

Raging.