Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

To be out in this weather, you’d have to be mad or desperate, Obi-wan decides, and unfortunately, he could be considered the latter. Luckily, his coat has been charmed to repel water, but even then, the torrential downpour leaves him cold and wet. Well, at least Ahsoka is enjoying this weather, he reflects.

But, he does what he must, and Quinlan has been deep cover for years. If he decided to risk being found out this late in the operation, he must have found something urgent. Though, Obi-wan does wish the biggest storm of the season had decided to wait a few hours to blow through Coruscant.

Obi-wan reaches an intersection fairly close to where the meet-up is to happen. With the powerful wind and rain, Obi-wan finds it unlikely that he has picked up any tails, but he’s also not willing to risk leading anyone to Quinlan, so with a quick flick of his wrist, he pulls an illusion of his surroundings around himself, while simultaneously forming a copy of himself down the opposite branch of the intersection that he is going. Obi-wan has always had a gift for illusions, from the glamour he wears on an everyday basis to the more complex, sometimes malevolent ones that his father’s family favors, but with the sheer amount of factors he has to account for, he is very glad the storm is making visibility so bad.

Coruscant’s streets are rarely empty, and Obi-wan’s deserted surroundings are putting him on edge. It is not just the storm that makes him sigh in relief when he gets to the abandoned warehouse Quinlan detailed to him.

Coruscant has always had a large industrial presence, and a few years ago, the commercial guilds decided that they needed more storage and lobbied the city council to get the proper building permits. Now, they lay abandoned due to Coruscant’s ever expanding population ensuring that there are no surplus goods. Though, Obi-wan is positive that the different cartels are more than happy to put these warehouses to good use.

Obi-wan steps inside the warehouse and lets his illusion drop. He sighs in relief when Quinlan saunters out of the shadows. “Vos,” Obi-wan greets, “it’s good to see you in one piece.”

“Obi-wan,” Quinlan returns, “You look terrible.”

Obi-wan scoffs, but moves in to clasp Quinlan in a brief hug. “You know you like how I look, Quin.”

Humming, Quinlan wobbles his hand back and forth. “It depends,” he says. Then, softer, he says “I’ve missed you.”

Obi-wan smiles sadly. “I’ve missed you too, old friend. Unfortunately, I doubt you came here on a social call, and unless you’re here to call for a full extraction, you have limited time.”

“Yeah,” Quinlan agrees, “I’m not ready to be extracted, but I did need to get this,” he pulls an old, leather-bound book out of his coat, “out of their hands.”

Obi-wan squints at it as Quinlan passes it over, a feeling of dread pulling at his gut. He pauses, eyes narrowing, and realizes that his premonition was more of a vague future sense, and not a sign of an impending attack like it usually is. This is bad.

Obi-wan sees old fey runes embossed on the cover, his mind racing to translate. The dialect is very old, and for a race of immortals, old tends to be longer than it is for mortals. His eyes widen as he realizes. “Shit,” Obi-wan exhales harshly, “Vitiate’s book?”

Quinlan nods as a worried frown crosses his face for a moment, before returning to his normal relaxed state.

“Well,” Obi-wan states dryly as he tucks the tome into his coat, “we don’t want another person draining the life forces of entire nations again. I’ll ensure this gets to the council.”

Quinlan winces. “Actually, Obi-wan, I suspect they have someone high up in the government. I was thinking you should hold on to it. Your wards are already as strong as the safes the council uses for forbidden artifacts, it will be better for it to stay with you.”

“Huh,” Obi-wan blinks. “That’s not… great. This cult of your’s is definitely more powerful than we thought. I’ll keep it, don’t worry.”

Quinlan sighs. “Thank you. I know what you’re risking to keep it.”

Obi-wan snorts. “It’s hilarious that after what you’ve told me, you think I would just hand it over to our very corrupt national government.”

Quinlan blinks slowly, confused. “I thought the regulations on magical artifacts were the magic council’s jurisdiction? I was just handing it off to make sure no loose lips fucked us.”

“You’d think,” Obi-wan agrees, “but we’re losing more and more autonomy everyday. Soon enough, with the way Coruscant’s chancellor is collecting power, we’re going to be nothing more than a figurehead and every magical being in a country that follows the magic council is going to have to follow Coruscant laws.”

“Shit,” Quinlan whispers, “that’s a problem.”

“We know,” Obi-wan responds dryly, “Mace is doing all he can to combat Palpatine’s growing power, but there’s not much we can do without the city’s support.”

Quinlan sighs. “Listen, Obi, I have to go, but if you need me, you know how to contact me.”
Obi-wan frowns, but nods anyway. He knows how dangerous it is for Quinlan to offer that, but he is also painfully aware that Quinlan meant it. “Stay safe,” he calls as Quinlan leaves from a window.

Quinlan’s grin was wild, reminiscent of how he would smile in their youth when he would drag Obi-wan into trouble. “I always do.”

“Liar,” Obi-wan scoffs quietly to himself as he watches Quinlan’s departing figure. He shakes his head ruefully as he turns to leave, pulling camouflage around himself once more. Obi-wan can feel the danger that surrounds Quinlan as his mission continues, but he knows he has to trust Quinlan.

Heaving a sigh, Obi-wan walks into the storm once more.

---

Jango takes in the small but tidy storefront in front of him. “You sure this is the right place?” He turns to look at his brother, who smiles sharply.

“Trust me,” Alpha-17 says, “It’s bigger on the inside.”

Quirking a brow, Jango decides to take his word for it. It would not be the first time Alpha-17 was right about something like this, but that is his job after all. As one of Mandalore’s elite special operatives, he gave up his name and clan for the duration of his service, but Jango would and has trusted his brother with his life. “Might as well get out of this rain,” Jango says as he walks into the store with Alpha-17 following closely behind him.

A small bell jingles as the door opens, and an expansive store stretches out in front of Jango. Charms of all sorts and common and rare ingredients alike line shelves and there’s a set of double doors behind the cash register that promise even more room that does not belong in a building of this size. A teenager with dark skin and white and blue striped braids eyes them with poorly disguised amusement.

Jango whistles, impressed by the expansion and extra-dimensional charms despite himself. “Please take off your coats at the front,” the teenager calls out, “a lot of this stuff isn’t waterproof.”

Once they have shed their coats and approached the counter, the teenager, who’s name tag reads Ahsoka, looks at them appraisingly. “So what’s so urgent that you’re here in this weather?”

“I’m here to talk to the owner, Obi-wan Kenobi, is he in?” Jango answers.

“Nah sorry,” she says, glancing out of the window, “but he should be back soon if you want to wait?”

Jango inhales deeply, catching the scent of an air spirit, which explains Ahsoka’s restlessness right now, with a storm going on. “Sure.”

Jango and Alpha-17 wander around the store for a good half hour, before the bell jingles again and a red-headed man walks through. From his brother’s reaction, Jango assumes that this is Kenobi.

Jango runs an evaluating eye over Kenobi. Despite the fact that it was pouring outside, the only thing wet on him is his hair and face, which still gives him a rather drowned cat look. Sharp grey eyes meet Jango’s, before he grins, sharp canines which give away his non-human ancestry glinting in the light.

“Welcome to my humble shop. It’s an honor to host the Manda’lor,” he says while hanging up his coat.

Jango knows fey when he sees them, and Alpha-17 confirmed that this one was only half, but Kenobi is probably more dangerous than most full-blooded fey. It’s a good thing Jango is just as dangerous.

Jango smiles, more of a show of teeth than anything, and meets Kenobi’s eyes. “Obi-wan Kenobi, I presume?”

Chapter Text

Kenobi nods his head. “My reputation precedes me, I see,” he says, shooting a look at Alpha-17. “It is good to see you again, Alpha.”

“You too, Kenobi,” Alpha-17 replies gruffly.

“Come now,” Kenobi says teasingly, “surely we’re on a first name basis by now?” Kenobi approaches the counter, and with a whispered word to Ahsoka, sets a leather-bound book down. Ahsoka nods, then gets up and takes the book through the double doors behind her.

Jango knows the basics of their history, and, based on what Alpha-17 did say about the whole Jabiim mess, he agrees with Kenobi.

Alpha-17 snorts. “In your dreams, Kenobi,” he says, emphasizing the other man’s name.

“I have no idea what it is about your family refusing to call me by my given name,” Kenobi sighs, “first you, then Cody, Rex, and Fox.”

“Hold on,” Jango interjects, “how do you know Cody and Rex?” The last time Jango had talked to his sons, they both were steering clear of Coruscant due to some… issues with their cousin, Fox. These issues include, but are not limited to, replacing all of Fox’s coffee with decaf, putting hair bleach in his shampoo, and throwing a red sock in his white load of laundry. Jango loves his sons, but they have whatever Fox is planning as revenge coming.

“Ah,” Kenobi winces slightly, “Cody and I met through a mutual job gone wrong. Rex and I met through Cody. Though, I doubt you came all this way to interrogate me about my relationship with your sons.” At Jango’s nod, Kenobi continues. “Please, follow me. We can talk over tea.”

Kenobi leads them through a narrow hallway, then up a set of dimly lit stairs into a cozy apartment space. Despite the rather eclectic collection of merchandise downstairs, Kenobi’s living room is neat and decorated in neutral tones. “Please, have a seat,” Kenobi motions toward the couch, then waves a hand through the air, and a muffled crash sounds from the other room, before three cups of tea come flying out of what is, presumably, the kitchen. “A grievous misuse of magic,” Kenobi says conversationally while catching an oddly shaped mug.
Jango and Alpha-17 do the same.

Kenobi sprawls into an armchair. “So,” he runs a hand through his beard, “how may I be of service?”

Jango leans forward, eyes trained intently on Kenobi. “I’m tracking a certain individual, she stole a dangerous item from the Mandalorian vaults, along with being responsible for a number of civilian deaths, and we have reason to believe that she fled to Faerie. Alpha-17 vouched for your trustworthiness as well as your skill with magic.” Jango does not trust Kenobi, he has had too many run ins with fey to do so on only his brother’s word, but he is the best option he has.

“Ah,” Kenobi nods, “and you need me to open a portal and guide you through Faerie. Unfortunately, with my position on the Magic Council, I am not able to take an indefinite leave of my responsibility.”

Jango sighs irritably. “I’m hunting Komari Vosa, our interests align.”

Kenobi swears viciously, and Jango blinks, mildly impressed. Kenobi’s facade of affability falls for a split second, and Jango is once more reminded how dangerous fey can be. “Well, good news,” Kenobi falls back onto false cheer, “as a council member, it is my sworn duty to hunt down dark mages as they come up, and we’ve been looking for Vosa for a very long time. It appears that I can help you after all.”

Jango smiles. “Excellent. When can you have a portal prepared.”

Kenobi hums, consideringly. “The portal needs to be outside, and I’d prefer to do it once this rain stops. I’d give it a day.”

Jango frowns, irritated by the delay. “We’ve already lost too much time. We need to go as soon as possible.”

“I believe, if Vosa knows she was being hunted, she would have fled to Dooku’s court. We don’t have jurisdiction over Dooku, since he’s fully fey, but with my authority, we should be able to make him turn over Vosa,” Kenobi explains.

“Do you really think Dooku would listen to you?” Jango eyes Kenobi, reevaluating him. Dooku is a count, practically royalty. For a half fey to have any sort of sway in Faerie, Kenobi must have a powerful bloodline.

Kenobi’s lips curve into a cold smile. “Trust me.”

---

Obi-wan sighs in relief when the Fetts have left. He may like Alpha but Jango puts him on edge. He bleeds ambient magic to the point that Obi-wan can feel every shift in his emotions. Jango is by no accounts an emotional man, but he’s intimidatingly intense, and for someone who values peaceful surroundings, too much for Obi-wan.

Obi-wan heaves himself out of the chair reluctantly. He desperately needs to get the materials together for the portal, but he also has to deal with the book currently laying innocently on his desk. Thankfully, Ahsoka barely knows how to read fey runes, much less ancient ones.

He walks down the stairs and into the main store area, shaking his head at the arrangement of charms. Arfour has been rearranging, apparently. Ahsoka looks at him curiously from the counter. “You’re free to go now, Ahsoka. Those were the two I sensed I needed to meet today.”

She wrinkles her nose at him. “You know, it’s kinda unnerving how you know what’s gonna happen before it does, right?”

Obi-wan laughs, a rare genuine one. “I know. You tell me every time I predict something.”

Ahsoka grins wildly. “So, I’m gonna,” she motions toward the violent storm outside the window, then disappears in a swirl of wind, rustling the papers on the counter as she goes.

Obi-wan shakes his head fondly, then makes his way into his library. He makes his way over to his desk in the back and picks up Vitiate’s book. Walking over to the loose floorboard that he leaves in his pocket dimension for the express purpose of hiding dangerous materials in, Obi-wan weaves wards into the magic surrounding the book. If anyone finds the book, Obi-wan will know, along with other various malevolent effects. He then places the book into its hiding spot, replacing the wards and illusions surrounding it.

“Arfour,” Obi-wan calls, waiting for the brush of Faerie that signifies Arfour popping into the mortal plane. In a whirl of sickly-sweet magic, a long-haired tuxedo cat floats in front of Obi-wan’s face. “I need you to keep an eye on the safe, if you don’t mind.”

Arfour blinks at him, before giving a huge yawn and setting down on his desk. Obi-wan takes that as her agreement.

Chapter Text

Obi-wan is not looking forward to going to Faerie. Not only does the excess ambient magic give him a headache, but everyone there is looking for a way to gain more power. As a result, he is also going to have to make wards to shield Alpha and the Manda’lor from the worst of the illusion snares in Faerie. After all, two dragon shifters from clan Fett would make for great magic sources and servants. Most of the fey in Dooku’s holdings know better than to try to trap Obi-wan’s mind, but there are always the arrogant ones.

Luckily, there is not much he needs to do for the portal. He already has the runes drawn out on the wall of the alley behind his shop. All he has to do is provide a fresh key, in this case some of his blood, and input the coordinates, which will be done to open it. Obi-wan does, however, need to warn Mace about his impromptu leave of absence. Obi-wan is just thankful that he got a new phone after the last time he shorted his out by channeling too much magic.

Obi-wan shoots off a quick text explaining the situation, then, before Mace has a chance to reply, turns off his phone. Maybe Mace will assume that he broke it again, Obi-wan can only hope. He really does not want to get griped at by Mace right now.

Obi-wan pulls his box of iron that he keeps despite the discomfort closer to himself. Runes that dispel fey magic work the best when wrought in iron, and Obi-wan has just enough human blood running through his veins that he can still work with iron. Though, by using himself as the power source to charge the runes, Obi-wan is actually going to have to sleep tonight.

Like fey magic, runes that ward against it are irritatingly finicky. It takes intense concentration and one mistake will cause the whole enchantment to unravel. Therefore, it stands to reason that Obi-wan cannot be blamed for the fact that he does not notice the pressure on the wards around the shop until the anti-teleportation ones dissolve.

Obi-wan jumps, and the second set of wards he was working on collapses. He swears as he recognizes the magic. “Anakin!” He shouts, “What have I told you about teleporting inside?”

A sheepish scuffing sounds from upstairs sounds. “Not to?” Anakin tentatively calls out.

Arfour chuffs at him and Obi-wan shoots a glare her way. “Shush, now I have to rebuild my wards, which means you have to help,” he mutters to his familiar.

She looks at him, unimpressed. “Or I could make him do it, you’re right,” Obi-wan concedes, “but you know me, Arfour. I just really enjoy being surrounded by my own wards.”

With a flick of her ears, Arfour jumps off his desk and winds around his legs. “But I’m not going to be here for a while, so I suppose it can wait.” Arfour is always right, Obi-wan supposes.

Deciding he might as well take a break, Obi-wan pushes his chair back. “Honestly Anakin,” Obi-wan gripes as he walks up the stairs, “it’s almost like you forget that I have to rebuild my wards everytime you break them.” Conversations in a household of creatures with enhanced hearing always make for interesting circumstances.

“I mean, kinda?” Anakin sounds distracted, though considering he just got back from Naboo, that is fairly reasonable.

Obi-wan reaches his living room where he finds Anakin staring in confusion at the space Jango and Alpha occupied on the couch hours before. “Well, since you have to rebuild them this time, hopefully you’ll be a bit more mindful in the future,” Obi-wan says.

Anakin turns to look at him in horror. “But you hate my wards,” Anakin protests, and Obi-wan knows that the only thing that can outstrip Obi-wan’s dislike of the feeling of Anakin’s wards, is Anakin’s dislike of crafting them.

Obi-wan smiles sharply. “Ah, before I forget, I’ll need you to help Ahsoka with the shop for an indeterminate time. I have business in Faerie.”

“You’re leaving?” Anakin questions, offended. “You’re leaving me to put up wards by myself?” His voice rises to a whine, Obi-wan notes amusedly.

“It seems that way, doesn’t it.” Obi-wan pats Anakin’s cheek on his way past to the kitchen. “Tea?” Obi-wan can feel the force of Anakin’s puppy dog eyes on his back. “You know that hasn’t worked on me since you were ten.”

Anakin huffs. “Yeah, fine, I’ll take some tea.”

Anakin favors his tea loaded with sugar and milk, much to Obi-wan’s disgust, but Obi-wan resigns himself to ruining a perfectly good cup of tea. He walks back out with his own cup and Anakin’s affront to nature to where Anakin is once again looking at the couch in confusion.

“Did you have some of Rex’s relatives over?” Anakin asks as Obi-wan hands his tea over.

“I did,” Obi-wan sips his tea.

“Is that why you need to go to Faerie all of a sudden?” Anakin eyes Obi-wan suspiciously.

“Yes,” Obi-wan replies nonchalantly.

Anakin huffs, and Obi-wan lets his lips curl with amusement. “Why do you feel like you’ve been working with iron?” Anakin questions, eyes narrowed.

And really, he is making this too easy. “Because I have.” Obi-wan smiles innocently at his adopted brother.
Anakin makes a sound of disgust. “You’re not going to tell me anything, are you?”

Obi-wan looks at him apologetically. “I’m afraid not. It’s classified.”

Anakin contemplates, then smirks wickedly. “Please tell me this classified mission of yours is dumping iron shavings down Dooku’s fancy robes.”

Obi-wan snorts in surprise, before a loud laugh escapes his lips. “By the Abyss, I wish.”

“Hey know,” Anakin says lightly, “It’s not cool to swear on someone’s home plane right in front of them.”

“You were born on the mortal plane and you know it,” Obi-wan shoots back playfully. “Anyways, while I’m gone, do try not to give Mace too many headaches.”

Anakin scoffs in outrage. “I have never, in my life, given Windu a single headache.”

“You realize,” Obi-wan says slowly, “he’s been billing me for his headache medication every time you are in Coruscant, right?”

Chapter Text

Jango knows how to be patient, he would not be Mand’alor if he did not, but the longer he has to wait for Kenobi to open a portal, the more time Vosa has to escape. She murdered so many of his people for one of her rituals, and Jango, for all that he is extremely powerful, has never been much for runic magic, so he does not even know her purpose. It chafes to be away from Mandalore for so long, but as Mand’alor, it is his duty to ensure that demogolka such as Vosa do not survive to harm his people again.

Kenobi says he can accurately guess where she will end up, but the fey are tricky beings, and Jango cannot quite bring himself to take Kenobi at his word. He seems familiar with Dooku, and Dooku specifically has been responsible for the abduction of Mandalorian children for as long as Jango can remember. Shapechangers, apparently, make good toys for the darker of the fey courts. And it would make sense for Kenobi to be close to Dooku. Kenobi is the clan name of the current rulers of Stewjon, and noble fey lines have always taken interest in the Stewjoni ruling clans. Along with having enough influence in Faerie to compel Dooku to give up Vosa, Kenobi’s clan name is all but indicative of him being from a noble lineage.

Alpha-17 interrupts his musings. “Are you just going to pace all night, because Fox might protest having holes worn in his carpet?”

Jango snorts. “Fox is barely here anyway, and I can blame it on Rex.” The joke falls short and Alpha-17 fixes him with a look.

“Does Kenobi really bug you that much?” Alpha-17 frowns contemplatively.

Jango sighs. Alpha-17 knows him too well to get anything past him. “In my experience, fey always have their own motives that they serve. I don’t know what Kenobi gets out of this, and I don’t trust that.”

“Kenobi was raised by his human family,” Alpha-17 begins, “he had sporadic company from the fey side, from what I know, but his mindset has always been more human. That, and the members of his fey family that he actually likes have a habit of disappearing into the wilderness for centuries at a time. So, I would say that in addition to the fact that he does genuinely want to see Vosa brought to justice, he is also a good person, weird as it is to say that about a fey.”

Jango narrows his eyes at his brother. “Kenobi struck me as someone who doesn’t give a whole lot away about his past. How do you know all of this?”

Alpha-17 laughs darkly, a sharp bitter sound. “Trust me, we bonded those weeks we got tortured together. He barely knew me at that point, and he was willing to draw Ventress’s attention away from me. I’d trust Kenobi with my life.”

Jango lets out a deep breath. “I already agreed to give him the benefit of the doubt and I trust your opinion, but the smell of his magic just sets me on edge.”
Alpha-17 nods. “His magic falls more to the mental talents. It makes sense.”

Jango groans and runs a hand through his hair. He resolutely ignores the part of him that finds sharp gray eyes and an even sharper wit ridiculously attractive. “I should probably check in with Boba,” Jango changes the subject.

Alpha-17 hums in agreement as Jango walks into the kitchen to get some modicum of privacy. Jango calls Boba, who picks up promptly. “Buir?” Boba says as he answers the phone.

“Hey Boba, I’ll be in Faerie by this time tomorrow. Is everything alright in Mandalore?”

A snort. “Other than the fact that Fives is driving me insane? Yeah, everything’s fine. Cody has decided that despite me being older than him and your heir, he’s the responsible sibling, and came back to help, so even if things do happen, Mandalore should be fine.”

“Don’t kill your brothers,” Jango says on reflex. Boba is the only one who does not have a twin, and Cody, Rex, and Boba are all too close in age for them to have gotten along growing up. Jango has lost count of how many times he has had to pry one of his children off the other. Echo and Fives are in their teens and have decided that their one job in life is to irritate Boba. Jango sometimes wonders if Ka’ra is punishing him for all of the trouble he caused for Jaster.

“I would never.” Boba’s tone is sarcastic, and Jango suddenly feels like he has made a grave mistake.

“Boba,” Jango emphasizes, “please do not maim Fives or Cody.”

“Fine,” Boba sighs. “No serious harm will come to my brothers while you’re away.” All of Jango’s children, besides Fives and Echo, are adults, Jango just wishes they would act like it.

“Thank you,” Jango says, relieved. “I’ll see you when I get back.”

“You too, Buir.” Boba hangs up.

“Well?” Alpha-17 yells from the living room.

“Mandalore will be fine,” Jango calls back, “Fives on the other hand…”

---

Jango and Alpha-17 meet Kenobi in the alley behind his shop the next day. It is still overcast, but that is preferable to the downpour of yesterday. Kenobi, with what appears to be an enchanted sword at his hip, turns to look at them and smiles. Jango exchanges a look with Alpha-17. Swords, even enchanted swords, are quickly becoming obsolete with the development of guns run fueled by magical energy, called blasters colloquially, and the only people that use swords anymore are people who use kyber enchantments. And, knowing Kenobi, that is incredibly likely.

Kenobi pulls out two small cloth wrapped parcels. “Here, these should help in Faerie.” Jango unwraps the one given to him, his eyebrow raising. Inside, was an iron pendant necklace that smelled strongly of Kenobi’s petrichor magic, and with the solid presence of wards. “That should keep most fey mind magicks from affecting you,” Kenobi explains before drawing his blade slightly.

The crystal embedded where the hilt meets the blade and the slight blue sheen to the actual metal gives away the fact that Kenobi’s sword does, in fact, have kyber enchantments.

He slits the tip of his finger on the exposed part of the blade, then scawls fey runes onto the preexisting runes already on the wall. They glow electric blue, matching the glow in Kenobi’s eyes as his glamour falls slightly. “Well,” he smiles back at Jango and Alpha-17, “you coming?”