Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It took them two whole days to get him, and Crosshair should have been happy about it. Yet, Crosshair knew Rampart would rather have him dead. 

Why waste that prick’s time with one clone? Crosshair’s mind asked.

Rampart never liked clones, and made it clear as still water. That one survivor, ES-02? Crosshair had always made her uneasy and she never wanted to be in the same room as him. So who could have ordered a retrieval mission?

He pondered the question in one the starship’s passenger seats as these nat-born TK troopers looked at him. He never liked their stares and glared at them. They turned around in fear.

They knew from hushed whispers and the unfortunate body language from one of the former ES members that Crosshair had a black heart and ruthless streak. If he hated you, you’d be dead and he’d blame it on the rebels. If you made one wrong move, you’d never see your home again. If he killed a Jedi, he’d never tell just to scare people.

They said the Jedi’s worst enemy was a Sith. The TK troopers were lucky Crosshair was just a normal clone and not a Sith. They’ve heard one too many horror stories of Siths to last a lifetime.

As the starship entered a familiar planet, Crosshair finally realized why he was retrieved. Nala Se was alive, and she was on this planet. Weyland. He heard some gossip that Emperor Palpatine was needing an heir, but that he needed them to be 100% perfect. For nat-borns, that just meant perfect breeding with the perfect spouse. Yet, if anyone asked Crosshair, it meant Palpatine wanted a clone if a wife couldn’t bring him a perfect heir. 

Which in Crosshair's mind was genius and a bit narcissistic, but then again Crosshair was created, and he was born with the best eyesight in the entire GAR. Kriff. If he had his way and the Kaminoans were actually willing to experiment on better soldiers, he should have been born with the best eyesight in the entire galaxy. 

As Crosshair was escorted inside the new facility, he was met with Nala Se, Rampart, ES-02 and a Tech-looking female scientist.

Tech, he sadly thought. No, don’t ever be sad! You made the decision and so did they.

Crosshair silently sighed and nodded. He has no power in this place. He’s back to square one. He’s back to being an experiment and not a person. He’s alone and no one can save him.

“Well,” Rampart started. “I’m surprised you’ve survived.”

Crosshair stayed silent. 

“That being said, you’re demoted. ES-02 is now the Commander.”

Crosshair wished he could roll his eyes. Is Rampart just going to say things Crosshair already knew? Crosshair had the best eyesight in this place, he could see Rampart’s moves before Rampart could say them.

“Are you not going to say anything?”

“I only want to know why I was retrieved,” Crosshair said. Though, he already knew.

Rampart rolled his eyes. “Tarkin had been given orders from the Emperor to make him an heir that will succeed him if anything goes wrong. And because there’s no perfect woman that can be Palpatine’s wife, he needed this place to make him the perfect heir.”

“Palpatine only needed to bring his DNA here and let the cloning process make his heir. Am I asking why I’m here and not dead.”

The Tech-looking scientist went in front of Rampart and did a slight nod to him. Crosshair wondered if it was a mocking respect for what they’re going to do to him.

“My name is Dr. Kore Pershing,” the woman said. “I am the head scientist here and Nala Se told me about the most interesting experiment she ever made.”

Crosshair willed every bit of his soul to not break his stoic character. 

The most interesting? That was such a load of Bantha shit. Nala Se knew much. much better experiments. As in her little Omega. Crosshair knew she had a part in protecting Omega, but he never said anything because he didn’t think Kaminoans actually cared for anyone but themselves. And here again, Nala Se was protecting her dearest Omega like the fake mother she is.

Makers, he wished he never met Omega. She was so hopeful and bright . She never belonged in this dark world where anything and everyone will attempt to take away her light. He hated Nala Se for making her and making her life a huge lie. What monster makes a child go through life thinking she’ll meet the batch she helped create when she should have known there was always a chance of her batch being decommissioned? 

At least for Crosshair, he’d always known he was going to die. He wondered if this was the day.

“I never thought Nala Se would talk about her experiments,” Crosshair said.

“Well, she did after Emperor Palpatine ordered us to make the perfect heir. She told me that she had experimented on four clones before. And while they were defective in the Kaminoans' eyes, the idea that her experiment still worked and created an elite group of clones did intrigue me.”

“How so?”

“Because, the Emperor wants a perfect clone. You’re one of the defective clones, yet you possess the best eyes in the former GAR. We need a perfect clone, and even if there’s a defect, if you can live your life being one of the best, this clone can follow your steps and live up to Palpatine’s wishes. Which means we need you to stay  alive to raise all the clones that were created successfully, especially the ones with the defects.”

Crosshair smiled. He wanted to bash his head to the nearest wall. He wanted someone to end him. Hells! He wanted ES-02 to end his horrible life.

Follow in HIS footsteps while being Palpatine’s heir? Be someone’s blueprint while being their nanny? Crosshair had wanted to be a parent at one point, but after experiencing the war, he was sure as pure beskar that he could never bring a child to life if they were only to follow in his footsteps and go to war. 

This was the same idea to him. Bring up a bunch of children with his skills, but then see them fight for a throne that might kill all but one of them. 

He can’t do it. He just can’t do it.

He might have killed before with any emotion, but he never had killed children. Not even Omega. They were never in his sights and he made sure of it. They could be punished, but he could never pull a trigger on a child.

Yet, he had no choice.

“I am willing to raise these future clones,” he replied, holding back his nightmares. “Yet, considering how powerful Palpatine is, I do not know how to help them if they start manifesting their Force abilities.”

“Do not worry,” Dr. Pershing said. “The Emperor will be their teacher once they show promise.”

“And the ones who don’t show their Force abilities?”

“The Emperor said they’ll be gifts for an alliance.”

Crosshair wanted to scream and die. He ruined a child’s life before they even had a heartbeat.

He looked at Rampart and ES-02. They were stone-faced, but Crosshair knew this idea was a disaster for them. They wanted him gone, not to be some heir’s mentor. Crosshair knows they were forming a plan. He wanted to smile harder knowing the plan could work and he’d never be these heirs’ nanny.

He hopes no one sabotages their sabotage of his life. He silently prays for it to work.

Crosshair smirked and let out a small laugh.

“Anything funny?” Rampart asked.

“Not much, just wondering how exactly I can raise Sith lords.”

Chapter Text

Korkie woke up with a jolt. He felt cold and scared and thought the room was going to collapse on him. He held his hands to his face and angrily groaned. He froze his hands again. He looked at his bed and groaned again as he saw frost on the bedsheets.

He was losing control of his Force abilities.

Korkie got off his bed and went to his balcony. The cool filtered Mandalorian air had always calmed Korkie down, but not tonight. Nor yesterday, or the week before. Not even after he was reinstated as heir. Sundari had become uncomfortable for the young man, not just because he was literally in the heart of a planet that hated Force users, but because all his negative memories were here. 

The Palace, the Palace grounds, the Peace Park and even the Academy became a place of negative emotion for Korkie. All those places held the best of Korkie’s happiness, but after Maul’s brutal takeover and the murder of Satine, Korkie would rather had the capital burnt to the ground. He was there when the people let Death Watch and that Sith happily took what was his home. Happily destroy his family and change his look of the world. Happily let Maul kill his mother just because they stopped liking her. Willing let a karking civil war break out and force an army of child soldiers to save them. 

Korkie let all his negative emotions swirl and crash into his heart. Tears passed down his cheeks as he remembered the smell of smoke and blood as he was exiled. Teeth biting his lips in an attempt to bleed them.

Suddenly, the balcony railings were on fire. Korkie looked down and sighed as his hands burned the balcony. He wondered if he should just stay there and burn with the balcony. He only came back to Sundari because Bo-Katan had no children, and he was her nephew. His friends were forced to leave him due to the instability in Mandalore, and even when they protested against their clan, they were still taken away for ‘safety’ reasons. He brought his nanny and his five ladies-in-waiting, but the looks the people gave to them because of their identity made Korkie want to end their enemies. He had little purpose for living, and all the reasons to join Satine in the afterlife.

Splash! 

Buckets full of water rained on Korkie. He turned his back and saw Nanny Rana and the ladies looking at him with annoyance. This wasn’t the first time Korkie thought using his Force abilities for death was a great idea. Rana walked to Korkie and hugged him. She knew he’s happiness was fading and all he had left was these negative emotions. She knew it by his loss of full control of his abilities. He had great control over his Force abilities when he was younger because of his control over his emotions, but after Satine’s death, and an incident in Krownest, it felt like Korkie was losing control over everything he knew about.

“I never meant to burn the balcony,” Korkie sobbed. “I woke up from a vision.”

“I know,” Rana said.

Rana led Korkie and the ladies back to the bed. Seeing his bed and the now unfrozen pillow, Korkie crashed head first into his pillows. One of the girls, Hile, rolled her eyes. There was only one reason for all the drama.

“Who did it?” she asked. She knew the answer, but she wondered if the insanity was ever going away.

“It was Sven’s fault!” Korkie cried. “He said he can feel his birth coming soon!”

“So your child from your visions caused this?” Alia asked. She was Korkie’s head lady-in-waiting and was close to him like a sister. 

She and the ladies knew Korkie always had issues with some of his visions considering the lack of training, but he was always in full control of them since they first manifested when he was five. That was the case until the Clone Wars which led to the fall of Mandalore. And that one led to the time in Knownest when Bo-Katan had sent him to Ursa because of ‘safety’ reasons. If this issue with his powers keep going, the women fear that Korkie doesn’t really have much time until he loses control and is forced to run from the Empire.

“Well, it’s not like I can control him anymore!” Korkie cried as he got up and faced them. “I used to be the parent he listened and respected, but then the war, and Knownest with the rifle, and his ba’buir’s murder…”

Korkie rubbed his forehead wondering when did everything go wrong with him and Sven. Since he was nine, Korkie would always have these recurring visions of a future family he would one day have with four older sons. Sven was the youngest of his oldest sons, and for some reason, he knew he was just a vision. Sven was a kind, sweet and nice child when they met. Then, three years ago, his son changed. Sven stopped being sweet, turned sour and sassy, acted like a beroya and had a toothpick issue. He even owned a sniper rifle!

“This is who I want to be!” Sven told him in one vision. “I want to be like buir and be one of the best snipers in history. I also want to be a bounty hunter.”

Korkie knew he meant his other buir. His spouse, and Sven’s role model. Which meant Korkie had married a nightmare. Though considering how Sven kept telling Korkie that he married a non-Mandalorian because of his buir’s sniper skills, he was thankful he didn’t marry anyone from the Nite Owl, or Death Watch. Yet, the fact his spouse came from outside of the Mandalore System didn’t help him figure out who he might have married.

“What did Sven really say?” Moria, the third lady, asked. “And don’t protect him. There’s something going on with that guy.”

Moria always wondered why Sven became a jerk to Korkie. Korkie always loved talking about his sons with such happiness that Sven becoming a jerk was a surprise to everyone. The way he cried one day telling Rana and the ladies how Sven became cold was heartbreaking considering Sven said he knew them too and appreciated everything they've done for Korkie. She knew Korkie always did his best to say he’s still a good kid, but this was getting too out of hand even for Korkie. Especially considering what the Empire had done to the Jedi. They can't risk Korkie losing control just because of Sven.

“Sven said,” Korkie recalled. “He said he felt his buir coming to Mandalore soon. He said, ‘Time’s ticking and he’ll be here soon. I hope you know what you’re trying to look for. I mean look at me. I’m buir’s little clone. Maybe I should get a tattoo just to finish the resemblance.’ I couldn’t say anything because he laughed at the idea. The worst part? He laughs like me!”

Korkie sobbed again and the room felt cold. The idea that he’ll meet his future spouse was scaring him. He already knew clan leaders were ready to throw their daughters onto his feet to become his in-laws. He can’t take any romance for now with all the issues he was dealing with. He also does not, would never, not in a million years, put his spouse in danger and make them a Kryze. House Kryze might be powerful, but there was always a double edge sword to being a Kryze. Or in Korkie's case, a revolver that never misses. No one deserved to be a Kryze if they can't take death a risk. 

Iki, the youngest of the ladies, went to Korkie's side and hugged him close. Romance was always a thing in Korkie's mind, but after everything that happened, they knew a love interest for Korkie was the last thing that should ever happen. Yet, it would be nice to finally figure out why Sven was acting like a cruel sniper. 

“Breath,” Iki said. “We know it’s hard, but at least you’ll finally meet this person. We’ll finally understand why Sven is like this. Even if it’ll hurt, you’re finally getting every question asked.”

Korkie stifled a giggle and the room’s temperature returned to normal. It was a good idea, but the fact still stands. It would be cruel to jump his future spouse and order them to marry him.

“I really don’t want to,” he said. “I mean, I can’t just say to his buir ‘Hello, there! I’m your future spouse!’ I might just scare them.”

The fourth lady, Daya, went up to him. Daya was born mute, but that never hindered her right to be part of the group. She signed to Korkie that he can just watch his future spouse and figure out why Sven changed. Korkie smiled and nodded.

“Fine, I'll do it,” he agreed. “I just have to meet a snow grey, or silver, haired person that has golden eyes, likes rifles and is a sniper when they arrive.”

Rana and the ladies patted him on the back. This was going to be the worst idea they ever agreed on.

“You need to ground Sven,” Alia said. “For your sanity.”

“If his buir doesn’t scare him, what do you think I can do?”

Chapter Text

Daylight broke into Korkie’s room to let him know it was time to wake up and act like an heir. Korkie didn’t want to wake up since he knew what might happen. The instant he’s outside of his room and into the throne room, Korkie gets badgered by the Nite Owls on how to quell the Mandalorian public since many of them were part of the New Mandalorians and the changing scenery with the warrior Mandalorians were making everyone agitated. Since he was Satine’s heir, they all agreed he was the best person to combat this unease. As for Aunt Bo-Katan, she left him alone and instead went to each on the military power they have. No one was giving Korkie a break nor did they care for his health. They only wanted Bo-Katan’s rule to be secured and Korkie was the one with all the political knowledge. 

Sighing, Korkie got up and went to the refresher to start the day. The hot water from the shower was calming him, but the negative thoughts flooded his head and began to freeze the room. Korkie screamed and the freezing stopped. The room went back to normal as the heat rose and Korkie finished his shower, dried himself with his Force fire and went outside with a towel on. 

The girls and Rana were already waiting for him with his mourning clothes. Moria held the dress in her arms, but held it up for Korkie. Korkie reached the dress and hugged the fabric. A sad tradition for every Kryze to do, wear the replicate clothes of the previous mourners and mourn the death of the late Clan leader. He knows his buir and ba’buir did the same when Adonai Kryze died and his mother did the same when his father died. He never wanted to be the one to wear the mourning clothes, but Bo-Katan was too stubborn to want to wear the dresses that Korkie volunteered to honour the Clan Kryze mourning tradition. Typically, it was the women who mourned because the men would order them to protect the children to preserve the Clan, but there were some male mourning clothes for Korkie to wear without problem. He slipped into the replica dress his ba’buir wore. He was then given the jewelry and accessories she wore during the funeral by Rana who helped him wear his ba’buir’s  heavy crown. He looked at the mirror Iki got and smiled. Then, Alia coughed and showed him the shoes. Korkie twitched, but he wore them. He never liked the shoes he had to wear, they never fit.

“One more month,” he said. “And I will be done wearing all these sad dresses, and these shoes.”

“You still have to make your own,” Rana reminded him.

Another Kryze tradition was the creation of the latest mourning dress. Which fell into Korkie’s hands after Satine died. The rule on the dressmaking was easy, make it black as the night sky and the secondary color the color of what the mourner wants to symbolize. His ba’buir Adenn Kryze wore gold for vengeance due to her husband dying at the hands of their enemies, yet Satine wore gray to show how much she would miss her father.

“Is it bad that I want my secondary color to be red as blood?” Korkie asked. “I want to honour her badly and I want the people to know I’m not some child.”

“Ah yes,” Alia sighed. “The colors that state you will end every former Death Watch member.”

“I’m not a killer.”

“Right,” Moria disagreed. “And yet, you have the powers to be a one man army.”

“Well said powers are not working most of the time!”

“Korkie,” Rana cried. “And girls. Not now. We have enough time to bicker in the evening, but for now, we have to deal with today.”

The girls pout and Korkie went out of his room with the girls tagging along. He made his way to the kitchen where the cooks were ready to serve him. Ever since Satine’s death, they had an idea of how bad her brutal passing affected Korkie by how he hadn’t touched much of his food after coming back to Mandalore from his exile at Kalevala. It was bad enough that the head chef asked Korkie to eat at the kitchen like he used to as a child. Korkie bursted into a crying mess the instant he was reminded of his past, but agreed because it held some of his happiest memories.

“Hello, Kor’ika,” the chef said. “What a lovely dress you have today.”

“Thank you,” he replied with a bow. “It’s my ba’buir Adenn’s dress. I will be wearing her dress for two weeks and then…”

“I know,” the chef said. “Satine’s mourning dress.”

“I never thought I’d be the one to wear it. I thought maybe my daughter would. I guess life had other plans.”

“You’d still be a face of beauty.”

Korkie grinned. He’s never going to be as beautiful as Satine. He’s hair was two toned with reds and golds that only made sense if he dyed it. His face looked too mature for someone who had never been in a war until last year. He was too tall and muscular for some of the dresses. The dress he wore now had to be refitted for his body. Also, he hates wearing high heels. They make him trip and fall into the ground. The only way he was going to look as beautiful as Satine was if he tricked everyone in Mandalore, which might be fatal to him since it took great skill and he was never taught how to control entire armies with that ability.

“Here’s your soup!” the chef said as he gave Korkie the warm soup. 

Korkie thanked the chef as he ran back into working on the girls’ food. He wished it was Tiingilar to burn the sadness away, but considering how messy he gets with the stew, it was okay for him to eat alternatives. Korkie was never a picky child with some even saying he doesn’t have taste buds. He does, it just doesn’t work with spicy food and he needed more than the necessary spice level to feel the heat. By the time Rana the girls were done eating themselves, Korkie had devoured his entire bowl.

“Need more?” the chef said.

“No need,” he replied. “I’m full. Thank you for all the hard work.”

Korkie bowed. He, Rana and the girls waved the chef goodbye as they went to the throne room ready for the Nite Owls’ daily harassment. The chef looked at Korkie as he went away. He was rather saddened to learn the fate of the young man who treated the servants with great respect and wished good health to him. He knew every servant who came back also pitied the young man, but they all had to acknowledge that this was his fate as the heir to Satine’s ruined legacy.

Korkie entered the throne room in the best of times. Axel Reeves and Rin Woves were at each other’s throats from a disagreement about who gets to be the leading Nite Owl for the time being. Axel screams at Rin about how he was older and punches the young man in the eyes. Rin doubled back and screamed his own argument as the strongest. As they fought, Korkie went and sat at the throne. He never got called out for this since they all thought it was just a seat, but to him, it was supposed to be his seat once Satine gave him her blessing to rule. It took over five minutes for them to realize that the rest of the Nite Owls were not looking at them and instead at Korkie.

“Hello, Axel,” he waved. “Good day, Rin. I hope those hits weren’t brutal enough to place you both in medbay. I hate to tell the nurses that you two were training in the throne room again and got hurt.”

Axel and Rin got off each other and bowed to Korkie. They did like the young man, and were always embarrassed that he had to make a ton of excuses for the nurses and doctors to not hate them. Also, despite the harassment the other Nite Owls had done to Korkie, they never heard any annoyance from him. They respected him that way since he could take any hits with a smile.

“I’m guessing from the shouting that Bo-Katan didn’t leave a note?” he asked.

“No,” Rin agreed.

“Well, Bo-Katan hates writing notes,” Axel explained. “Also, she forgot to name a leader.”

“Well, how about you both be co-leaders? I mean, there’s a bunch of you and Mandalore isn’t small. I know some of you are on Axel’s side and others are on Rin’s side. If you divide yourselves, both of you can monitor Sundari and Mandalore with more ground and airspace.”

The Nite Owls looked at him with nods. Axel and Rin also agreed in sheepish blushes. Korkie was raised as a future leader and he did have a good idea on how people should do their jobs. He never imposed his ideas and instead gave them a chance to think about it.

“You’re right,” Rin agreed as he rose. “I’ll take the skies while Axel takes the ground.”

Axel shot up. “Are you kidding me? I have better control of my jetpacks than you have control of your blasters.”

The men started fighting again as one of the Nite Owls ran to Korkie’s side and asked him to end the fight. Korkie agreed and rose from his seat.

“ENOUGH!” he wailed.

Axel and Rin stopped fighting and looked at Korkie. He gave them an annoyed look and they apologized.

“Well,” Korkie said. “Since you both want the skies, but the ground is still important, I believe in a rotation. One of you and your team will be in the sky, then exchange areas in six hours. Because Axel is older and has more experience, he’ll take to the skies first, unless there is a disagreement from anyone other than Rin.”

He looked at the other Nite Owls. No one disagreed.

“Well, Axel, you're in the skies first. Rin, don’t be angry about staying on the ground, many of the people don’t have jetpacks. Daylight is wasting and people are in need of help with the year-long rebuilding of our planet and the mixing of old and new cultures. I might not be my Aunt Bo-Katan, but I am Mandalore’s servant.”

“Yes, Prince Korkie!” they shouted.

The Nite Owls left the throne room with Axel and Rin still staying.

“Are you okay?” Rin asked. “That’s the first time we’ve seen you take control.”

“I just don’t want another petty fight,” Korkie scoffed. “You know what happened the last time.”

Axel and Rin looked away and left. Korkie had reminded them that Death Watch had let an outsider with no Mandalorian blood rule because of Pre Vizsla and his Clan’s tradition of the Darksaber ruling Mandalore. They still felt the sting of pain from those memories of the aftermath and Mandalore’s unfortunate civil war. They wondered how bad the memories were for Korkie since he was actually angry at them. He never showed much hate, but from what they saw, it was only a short time until he was going to burst and kill an old enemy. 

Pray for Mandalore it never happens.

As Axel and Rin left, Korkie sighed and rested on the throne. He never meant to hurt them, but they fought so much that it was getting on his nerves. He asked for the schedule and saw that he was to go to the rebuilt areas and see if they were doing well and if there were jobs being made. He looked at the map and smiled. He knew the area anywhere, it was the food market and restaurants. He loved that area, he had so many happy memories of him and his friends acting funny with food stuffed in their mouths. Soniee and Lagos had a bunch of pictures of him and Amis having eating competitions.

Korkie got up and left the palace with the ladies. He rented a taxi and went to the rebuilt food market and restaurant area. The people were rather surprised at his appearance since they’ve never seen him in weeks. He can’t blame them, he was too busy cooped up in the palace.

A young food merchant went to him. Korkie took one look and smiled. The merchant was an old acquaintance who had always given Korkie the spiciest stews ever made in Mandalore.

“Hello, Mr. Gresh,” he greeted. “It’s been awhile.”

“Weeks boys,” Mr. Gresh said. “Almost two months. What happened?”

“Well, Aunt Bo is swamped with military stuff and the Nite Owls are trying to help, but none of them have any political education. So, it fell to me. I’m sorry if it’s not enough, I’m doing my best to try to help. Yet, I think I’m just doing the bare minimum by the looks of things.”

Korkie looked at the areas he once knew. Some of the restaurants weren’t fully opened and others looked like they needed more clean up.

“I don’t know much about politics either,” Mr. Gresh. “But if you want to help, then come here and take a look.”

Korkie did what he was told and looked around. The place was still being fully rebuilt and the people were helping each other out. Korkie himself helped out as the ladies took note and wrote out what was happening in the area. Everything was going well until a woman gasped and pointed at something behind Korkie. Korkie looked and saw it was a Nite Owl. The people were still wary of the Nite Owls and other warrior Mandalorians. They had the idea that if the warrior Mandalorians never came back to Mandalore, they’d still have a peaceful life. Korkie didn’t want to start an argument on how hypocritical that idea was considering how they embraced Pre Vizsla and he wasn’t starting it now.

Korkie went toward the Nite Owl and saw that they were a woman.

“Hello there,” Korkie greeted. “I’m very sorry to say this, but I keep forgetting who you are since you painted your armour like Axel. Who are you again?”

“Tala Reeves,” the woman said as she took off her helmet. “Axel’s my brother so I can see where the confusion happens.”

“Well, I’m still sorry. Anyhow, are you here alone? I don’t see Axel and it’s not rotation time yet.”

“I am here alone. I came here to pick up food and I heard this place had some food.”

Korkie looked at the market workers and saw that they didn’t want to deal with Tala. Korkie looked at Tala again and asked her to stay. He went to Mr. Gresh who asked him what was going on. The people crowded them as they needed an explanation.

“Tala, the woman there,” Korkie explained. “She wants some food, the Nite Owls have been monitoring Mandalore since early morning.”

“And is Bo-Katan with them?”

“No, she’s busy elsewhere.”

“Doesn’t she know that the people here are wary of her people? I mean, I know they helped take back Mandalore, then they were also the ones that started it.”

“I know, but give them a chance. Mandalore is changing, and so the culture we once knew is about to change. Pacifism had ended with Satine Kryze and now we need to accept that the warriors are coming back. It isn’t their fault they’re here now, we let corruption and war come to our home and are facing the aftermath. The Nite Owls are not bad people. Yes, they were once Death Watch, but they’ve seen the error of their consequences and are doing what it takes to help Mandalore. They’re protecting our borders and strengthening the military so no one will ever come to Mandalore thinking we’d just let them step on us.”

The people looked at each other and again at Korkie.

“I gave them a chance, and I was raised as a pacifist,” he said. “I came to know them well because they stay in the palace, and I found out they're just like us, but with armour and weapons. They bleed Mandalore and want what is best.”

The people relented and understood. Korkie was raised to be Satine’s heir and he had a strong sense of duty to his people and Mandalore. If he was willing to give them a chance, then they should at least try to give them the same chance.

Mr. Gresh approached Tala and asked her about her food preference. Tala glanced at Korkie and nodded a thank you. The people asked Tala about her life and how she became a Nite Owl. When Tala was done getting her food, she thanked the people and saluted as she flew away.

Mr. Gresh went to Korkie who was sitting and drinking some juice. 

“You’re not wrong, ad’ika ,” he said. “She was just like us. With armour and weapons.”

“My life wasn’t always filled without weapons,” Korkie said. “I used to hold a sniper rifle once when I was younger, but Auntie Satine found me holding it and promised me to never hold one in her presence.”

Mr. Gresh was surprised by the revelation, but he understood why Korkie was okay with weapons. Adonai Kryze was a powerful warlord. Yet, it was Adenn Kryze who beat him to submission, she was the best sniper in her generation. 

And Kryzes loved picking a sniper for a spouse.

Korkie rose up from his seat and thanked everyone for a great day. He left with the ladies and a bunch of food. When he came back to the palace, Bo-Katan was already there waiting for him.

“Aunt Bo,” he bowed.

“Lady Bo-Katan,” the ladies bowed.

“Rise,” she ordered. “I heard everything from my Nite Owls.”

Korkie went to her and gave her a piece of bread as a peace offering. Bo-Katan took it and took a bite. She was famished from her military building.

“I was trying to make sure Axel and Rin weren’t going to the medbay again,” Korkie explained. “The nurses are getting tired of their bickering. I mean, I know you can handle it, but the hospital is still trying to fill their inventory.”

“And Tala?” she asked.

“The people are still wary. It takes time for them to accept things as is. Mandalorians from every corner just came back and dealing with the new scenery is stressful for both sides. And a year is not enough for them, Aunt Bo. I mean, the ladies and I just went to one of the rebuilt areas. It’s still not fully rebuilt and people are still figuring things out.”

“I understand.”

“So you’re not mad?”

“No, but I will be.”

“What? Why? I just explained everything.”

“I know, but I was given a headache from a message. Guess who?”

“Since you're not happy I guess anywhere outside of Mandalore, its system and definitely not Concordia or Ordo. So, the Empire?”

“Yes! They have the audacity to want to come here for a ‘political’ visit in two weeks and stay here for however long!”

“Isn’t that technically an act of dictatorship and war?”

“I don’t know, I thought you’d know.”

Korkie rose his left eyebrow. He was raised to be the next leader of Mandalore, but that did not mean he knows every political rule. He had to drop out of his senior year because of the Mandalorian Civil War. That was despite knowing every answer to the finals and made all the notes that he gave out to his peers for some credits. He's still just a young man with only the basic knowledge. Okay, that was a lie, but Korkie was not a walking encyclopedia of political information.

“Well, it does seem like they’re trying to colonize us and since we’re still rebuilding and making a powerful military, we might not have much of a choice other than stall them.”

“I can send my spies to sabotage their ships.”

“That might be a bit extreme, but it’s an idea. Make sure these guys are the stealthiest of the Nite Owls. Also, make sure they find a map of where the Empire will be in our System. As for the political stuff, I can stall them.”

“How?”

“We’re still rebuilding right? Well, let’s make them think we have a huge chemical building here and it still needs fixing. Let them think only we know how to rebuild it. Aunt Bo, I need a bunch of notes, may I go inside my room.”

Bo-Katan nodded and Korkie raced to his room. He already let an outsider ruin his life, he wasn’t letting an outsider empire ruin it further.

Chapter Text

“The scan is complete,” Dr. Pershing announced. “You can hop off the machine any time now.”

Crosshair opened his eyes and rolled to his left side. He slowly sat on the machine bed and looked around. Dr. Pershing was smiling as always. She loved the scans since she wondered how Crosshair’s mutation and anatomy was different from most clones. Nala Se was behind a lab computer not even looking at him. Crosshair wanted to scream at her, but what good would that be? He’s their specimen, not someone’s brother. 

Crosshair got off the bed and walked to the door. He stopped halfway as Dr. Pershing called his name. No, his number. No one calls him Crosshair anymore.

“CT-9904,” she called. “An abnormal amount of vitamin deficiency has been detected. Have you been eating well?”

Crosshair turned to her. He wanted to say no.  He wanted to tell her he’s been limiting his uptake on nutrients and was trying to lose his eyesight. He wanted to tell her he hates eating the food because he knows what they're putting in it. He wanted to say he was starving himself. That he wanted to stop eating so they don’t use him. So he doesn’t have to serve Palpatine and his clones. 

He’s done. He regrets ever living. He wishes he was never created by Nala Se. He wants to go to the Manda and join every clone who lived a pitiful life thinking they were meant for something great only to die for a bunch of people who hated them.

“I haven’t acclimated to the food here,” he instead said. “It’s rather different from what I’ve been eating.”

“Well, we have tried to mimic a clone’s regular diet,” Dr. Pershing countered. “But, if you’re not eating well, then we might have to do a blood test.”

Crosshair smiled a crack. “No need. I’ll just adapt. I’ve always adapted to my surroundings.”

“I hope so. It has been over two weeks. If your next scan reveals an alarming amount of deficiencies, you have no choice but to be force fed until normal. You are going to be the one to help us perfect Palpatine’s clones. You can't fail us.”

Crosshair nodded. He’ll never get away from his hell. He wonders if he’s even going to see Palpatine if his clones are going to be created here. He knows from stories that most clones never saw the face of the face who ruled the Senate and only when it was an important issue would Palpatine even meet them. He wonders if he could just destroy the clones and die by treason if Palpatine does come to visit. That would sound nice. And Nala Se and Pershing might die with him so it’s a small victory.

Crosshair exited the room and was met by a squad of TK Troopers. Since it was announced that Crosshair was going to help out with the Palpatine cloning, he was met with unfortunate circumstances. He was given ‘special’ accommodations such as his own room, a lunch time away from everyone else inside said room and protection. He hates it so much he just wants to bash a TK Trooper to death. Yet, he felt hungry and this pests didn't deserve to hear his stomach growling. 

Guarded by the squad, he was led to his room and had the door closed on him once he entered. He went to the small bed they provided for him and screamed. He wanted to serve the Empire as a soldier, not as an experiment! He had so much battle experience that he just didn’t understand why he had to be the one to bring up a bunch of clones who didn’t even exist yet! He didn’t want to be a mentor! He hated his Kaminoan handlers and he never got along with his mercenary teachers. He was too stubborn, too hot-headed, too rough with all the other clones. He’s not going to be a good teacher! 

Knock.

Crosshair took a breath and steadied himself. The food was here. He went to a wall that had all the buttons to open and close his room and pressed the enter button. A trooper came in and set the food to a table. The trooper left as soon as they set the food. Even in captivity, they all feared Crosshair for some reason. He preferred it that way.

Crosshair hoped the food was poisoned as he looked at it. Yet, he knew they never were. He hopes it wasn’t from the fear of Palpatine getting angry that his clones weren’t going to be perfect due to circumstances. He hates the Emperor as much as he hates himself. He went to sit at his lonely table and ate in silence. The food had great flavor, but all Crosshair tasted was pure bitterness. He was never going to be okay with the food. They could force feed him and he’d still hate the food. The only times he liked the food was with his brothers. Yet, they're gone and he chose his fate.

After eating Crosshair sat back on his bed and counted to one hundred. Then to two hundred. Three hundred. When he was done counting, he closed his eyes and fell asleep sitting up on his bed. Most of the Bad Batch always had this fun little fact among them. They would get repetitive dreams. Hunter would get forestry dreams. Tech had dreams of gadgets and computers. Wrecker’s would have Lula in most of them. Even Echo had repetitive dreams when he told them. They would figure out why they have these dreams, but then it would change to another repetitive dream.

Yet, Crosshair’s dreams were never the same. Every dream was different. There was no rhyme nor reason. There was no clue. Some had things that Crosshair never knew, but had to see. He dreamt of people he never met, but interacted with them. He did tell this to Tech once, but Tech wasn’t helpful since having no repetitive dreams was a norm in his facts. He looked elsewhere in the galaxy for clues about his dreams, but like Tech it wasn’t helpful and just repeated what Tech said. He even once snuck into the Jedi Temple on Coruscant for some knowledge at one point during the war, and he might have begged a Jedi for help sense he was getting desperate to understand his dreams, but that was a mistake since they just talked about how dreams could be visions given to Force sensitive users.

Crosshair was as Force sensitive as a dead man. He had no connections to the Force. No clone had a connection to the Force. He reasoned that the Kaminoans made it that way. Possibly out of fear that a clone Jedi would tattle on them and ruin their big plans. So Crosshair was stuck wondering why he had all these dreams and no answers.

This dream he had now was not even placed in his weirdest of dreams. He was standing in the light. The air around him was crisp and lovely. He wore some royal looking robes, pants and shoes. He had people looking at him smiling and waving. He was on top of some castle ground. There was a dome above him and warriors surrounded him in respect... He was welcomed and accepted in this dream. 

Crosshair wanted to wake up. It was too happy to be his dream. He doesn't deserve this happiness with all the blood he shed. 

He took another look at the warriors and his eyes grew big. If clones had shed a ton of blood to fill up Coruscant due to the Clone Wars, then Mandalorians had flooded entire galaxies with the souls of their victims. He had no armour to protect him, and he had no weapons. He might as well die if he took the wrong step. Yet, they stayed by his side without much of a complaint and even whispered good things about him. Crosshair didn’t understand why they’d be so nice to him. He was a clone! Mandalorians hate clones!

“You seem so quiet today,” said a voice.

Crosshair turned around and saw a young person standing a few feet from him. He couldn’t tell if they were a man or woman due to the androgynous outfit and the veil that covered the face, but they didn’t seem hateful. The Mandalorian warriors quickly went off to other directions and the people seemed to disappear. This meant Crosshair was in the presence of a powerful person. They didn't have the Darksaber so they weren't the Mand'alor, but that still didn't help his anxiety as the person got closer to Crosshair. When they were just inches from his body, Crosshair could see a small smile underneath the veil.

“What’s wrong? Tooka got your tongue?”

Crosshair frowned. “No, I’m just not myself today.”

Or anytime in these dreams. He had to act rather quickly or something starts to go very wrong with these dreams.

“Was it the hologram from yesterday?” the person asked. “I know you hate Admiral Rampart. Or anyone really from Weyland. Yet, you shouldn’t be so guarded that you’re stomping on my home grounds acting like you want to go on a killing spree.”

Oh. This dream was in the current timeline? He never dreamt of anything close to his timeline. Better yet, one with Rampart or Weyland being a mention. This can’t be real. Well, on his dreaming scale.

“Sorry, about that then. I’m just, you know.”

What does this person know? By the acting and the closeness, and all the people leaving, they have to be close. Were they friends? Acquaintances? Hopefully not lovers because that would be quite a shock.

“I know, Crossie. You’re not a science experiment nor a sample they can just use and then toss. You’re a living person.”

Okay, close friend due to the nickname. Yet, he can’t pin on the name. He had to act fast.

“And what else?”

“My close friend and confidant.”

“The close friend and confidant to whom?”

The person took off their veil to show a happy smiling and bright face. “To His Royal Highness, Duke Korkie Kryze of Kalevala. The Heir Apparent of Mandalore.”

Crosshair stopped working. Kryze? As in HOUSE KRYZE? As in Satine and Bo-Katan Kryze’s family? One of the strongest Mandalorian Houses and Clan? That Kryze? 

No. Just no. This dream is as nonsense as the rest. There is no way in his life Crosshair would be near a Kryze. He heard that the 501st had met Bo-Katan Kryze, but Korkie Kryze was known to be off-limits due to Satine. Considering Satine and Bo-Katan were sisters, she must have also made him off-limits. This dream was mocking him. This dream was making him think he’d ever be near royalty.

He closed his eyes in the dream, but felt a warm hand to his face.

“Crossie, are you okay?”

Crosshair said nothing. He opened his eyes and saw his room. He walked to the mirror Dr. Pershing provided for him and saw he was red eyed and puffy. He quickly stopped looking saddened and scowled at the mirror. He went back to his normal look, but he frowned.

He did wish to go to Mandalore one day. He wanted to connect to his roots. He knows where his DNA came from due to all the sneaking, he had often hid the knowledge from people and especially Tech if he didn't need his output, and Crosshair hid his wish of going to Mandalore from his brothers. It’s not that he never trusted them with the wish, he just couldn’t see them accepting his wish. They didn’t like the late Duchess Satine’s pacifist stance during the War and didn’t like how she’d banish warriors to other planets in the Mandalorian System. He knew from one look that if they knew, they’d try to get him to think of something else. They might have told him that the Duchess might make him a pariah much worse than what the regs ever did to him. That he'd never see his brothers ever if she was to detect his presence.

Yet, he wanted to know more about his heritage. The regs never wanted him nor his brothers to learn Mando’a so he taught himself the language and every dialect he wanted to learn. Never was taught the songs so he listened to old holo-videos about Mandalore’s songs and learned how to sing them perfectly. Never was fed the food of his ancestors so he read about them in an old holo-text and learned to cook in secret. The worst part? Crosshair was never taught the history of Clan Fett or any Mandalorian Clan, so stayed late to read himself his donor’s history and all the histories of the major Houses. 

Crosshair was a self-taught man who knew anything and everything about Mandalore. Yet, it was now a waste. He’s never going to Mandalore. He’ll never be part of their world.

Knock! Knock! KNOCK! 

Crosshair went to open the door and Dr. Pershing was in front of him panting. 

“Admiral Rampart is here,” she announced. “He’s not happy. Not one bit. He’s finding anyone who knows Mandalorian, and already, every single clone can’t give him a good answer.”

“And why are you telling me this?” he asked.

“Because Nala Se told him you knew the dialect this person was speaking! He’s commanding everyone to get you!”

Crosshair twitched. Of course Nala Se would tattle on him. She once caught him perfecting all the Mandalorian dialects. He’s surprised she even remembered that incident. He went outside his room and was suddenly flanked by a squadron of troopers. They led him and Pershing to a command room with an angry Rampart looking at the message. When Rampart looked up, he scoffed at Crosshair’s face.

“Finally!” Rampart exclaimed. “I needed a translator, but still no one knew what this person was saying.”

Rampart pointed at the hologram message. Crosshair looked at it and almost gasped. The person on the hologram was none other than Korkie Kryze himself! He looked regal and imposing as much as the one in the dream. He spoke in a soft, yet commanding voice. He did pace himself like a king when he talked. He even bowed at the end of the message.

“Do you understand that?” Rampart hissed.

“It’s Kalevalan Mando’a,” he answered. “The person who sent you this message is from Kalevala. From Clan Kryze of House Kryze.”

“So do you know him?”

“Personally, I’ve never met him in my life. Yet, I know of him. That young man is Duke Korkie Kryze of Kalevala. The nephew of Regent Bo-Katan, and the Heir Apparent to Mandalore.”

Crosshair didn’t know why he listed off the titles from his dream, but it felt natural. Like he was supposed to say it.

“Well, then. Translate.”

Crosshair asked for the message to go back to the start. Once it did, he started translating. 

“Ibic Korkie Krzye.”

“This is Korkie Kryze”

“ Vi Haa'miitir gar miit, a ogir cuyir a wero.”

“ We have read your message, but there is a problem. ”

”Jorcu be akaan, cuun be'jahaala veeray cuyir shuk'la.”

“Because of the War, our hospitals are broken.”

“Jorcu be ibac, cuun be'sol cuyir par cuun adate at gaanir te bana.”

“Because of that, our priority is for our people to handle the situation.”

“Meh vi don't gotalir te bana, gar adate Kelir ve'ganir kyr'duhaal bal ash'amur.”

“If we don't fix the issues, your people will get extremely ill and die.”

“Gedet'ye, cuyir pareyc sa gar Kelir morutar olar sol'ca'nara anil'yc cuyir kyrir.”

“Please be patient as you will be welcomed here once everything is finished.”

Once the message ended, Crosshair looked up at Rampart. He did not look happy at the clone. Crosshair wondered if he wanted the clone to mix up a few words. It did seem that the Empire was about to impose on Mandalore, and if Crosshair knew one thing about Mandalorians, it is that they are some of the most stubborn people in all of known history.

“Are you sure that was what he was saying?” Rampart asked.

“Unfortunately, it is,” Crosshair answered. “Most New Mandalorians, which is the faction he was born to, don't speak Mando’a unless needed for important reasons. He’s telling you that there’s an emergency that can’t be looked over in Mandalore and considering he’s telling you to possibly wait for another message, it’s possible that they’re using written Mando’a, not Basic for their facilities.”

“Can’t they just change it all to Basic?”

“And create another faction and Civil War? Sure.”

Rampart went to Crosshair and smacked his face. Crosshair didn’t flinch as the admiral’s hand hit him. It was nothing compared to what he’s used to. Then again, Crosshair is a sucker for pain. Yet, he did want to one up Rampart and let him understand what will happen if he doesn't listen.

“Mandalore is a planet and a people with traditions that can either be oral or written,” Crosshair continued. “When they aren't fighting the Jedi or conquering planets, they fought each other for power and created multiple factions due to their people having different beliefs and ideas of how Mandalore should be ruled. They started Civil Wars for their leaders to take the mantle of leader of Mandalore. Even when Satine Kryze was a pacifist ruler, she could not write out her own Clan's warlord history and accepted it as fact. Mandalorians are not a race, it's a creed and a code that is passed on to those who are willing to be part of Mandalore and its people. They’re not going to listen to an outsider with zero Mandalorian heritage or knowledge asking them to change their way of life. You’re asking for a war, and they might as well fight even without their weapons.”

Rampart readied another hit, but stopped. He looked at Crosshair and smirked instead. If the clone knew so much about Mandalore, then what exactly happens if he was proven wrong?

“Well then,” he chortled. “When they send another message, and it’s saying that everything is finished. I want you to be sent off to Mandalore.”

Crosshair didn’t move an inch. Yet, he wanted to. Mandalore? Him at Mandalore? His wish possibly coming true? It’s not possible. He’s a prisoner here. He has no chance to finally understand his roots. He might have had a dream about it, but it's not a vision. He's not Force sensitive.

Dr. Pershing was not happy either.

“You can’t do that!” Dr. Pershing cried. “He’s to stay here to help with Palpatine’s clones.”

“You can study his blood anyway!” Rampart countered. “He knows the language and the culture. The officer we have to send doesn’t speak the language and needs protection from the people.”

“But Palpatine--”

“I OUTRANK YOU! SO YOU MUST LISTEN!”

Everyone in the room was quiet. They knew Rampart wasn’t wrong, but they were afraid of the Emperor’s wrath. Yet, it was over for the scientists. Crosshair was going away.

And Crosshair was happy to go away. He started planning right as Rampart left the room. He was finally getting what he wanted.

Chapter Text

Korkie sighed as he paced himself in his room. He wondered if it was a good idea to message the Empire in Mando’a and not make the message in the main Mando’a language. He knew Kalevala was the center of the New Mandalorians and the birth planet of Clan Kryze, but not every Mandalorian spoke the dialect. For the most part, the most common dialect was Concordian Mando’a due to the history behind Concordia and Concord Dawn. 

Yet, he never regretted the decision. He wanted the Empire to know that Mandalore belongs to the Mandalorians and not to outsiders who wanted to conquer them. Besides, the idea of a bunch of people getting headaches because of his antics was funny. 

“Korkie!” Bo-Katan yelled outside his room.

“Come in,” he answered.

Bo-Katan entered the room with a frown. She looked at her nephew who stopped pacing and looked at her. She knew she couldn’t blame him for being a worried man, but she wished he just stopped worrying and acted like every enemy was coming for him. He should have been raised to be null to the idea of disasters!

“Is something wrong?” Korkie asked.

“Your message,” Bo-Katan said. “It was great, but someone knew Kalevala Mando’a and not even a week after it was sent, we got a message back!”

Korkie’s eye grew. Someone in the Empire knew the dialect? That should be impossible! Even if Clan Kryze was to their last member, no one in Kalevala would dare become a turncoat in fear of retaliation. Furthermore, who would attempt to learn a less popular Mando’a dialect? Learning Ordo’s dialect would be more beneficial. 

“Who sent the message?”

“A man named Rampart. He tried to do the dialect, but it was clear as day that he used someone to try to intimidate us. I’ll spare you the details since it was horrendous. Anyway, he said he might try to send people to check if we’re lying.”

“Well, we’re not really lying if our hospitals were still broken. I had checked and only three hospitals near the entrances are up and running without problems. The one we mainly focused on was the one close here.”

“Are you saying we should delay the rebuilding?”

“No. I’m suggesting that I have a meeting with the doctors. Have them understand what is currently happening and have them make a blueprint of what looks to be their original buildings, but instead it has more spaces for rehabilitation and more rooms for patients. That way we could trick them into thinking that our hospitals are still broken”

Bo-Katan looked at Korkie. She was never there for him as an aunt, but she had heard about how many people agreed that Korkie could end up becoming Mandalore’s ruler after Satine. She even remembered how Ursa told her about a battle in Krownest that Korkie ended up winning for them. Korkie was a great leader in his own right, but Bo-Katan knew he was rather more a philosopher, a strategist and a scholar than a leader. 

“You really know how to stall people don’t you?” Bo-Katan smiled.

“I know the Jedi are now public enemy number one,” Korkie said. “But I will always remember how Ahsoka Tano taught me how to stop corruption and realize who are my actual allies.”

Bo-Katan scoffed. “The Jedi aren’t our enemies. It’s only Palpatine who thinks like that.”

“Yet, he’s already making them look like monsters when he’s trying to take over our home.”

“No one wants to fight him with all those clones around him.”

“Aunt Bo. They didn't have a choice. Clones have nothing and serving Palpatine is their only job.”

“Are you sympathizing with the clones ?”

“I’m just saying, they were made to die in a pointless war. The entire galaxy hates them for what they are when they never had a choice in wanting to be created. And their boss is Palpatine. I can’t blame them for not living another life when their entire lives are just so bleak.”

Bo-Katan rolled her eyes. If there’s one thing everyone started noticing about Korkie, it’s his inability to hate anything. Korkie is rather compassionate compared to any Mandalorian and compared to Satine, Bo-Katan would rather choose Korkie to understand her and her issues. 

“Fine, but if they bring in the clones, don’t say I never warned you.”

Bo-Katan left Korkie in his room. Korkie looked around his room and launched himself at his couch. He groaned at the thought of not being kind to people. Yes, he knows the universe is a cruel and hopeless place, but he’s seen the light in the darkness. He’s not naive and childish as everyone thinks, he’s just absorbing the emotions of his environment and going with the flow of everything around him. He understands the duality of emotions and how they shape a person’s present and future. All Korkie is wanting is to let someone know they can feel comfortable around him. Whether Mandalorian, off-worlder, or clone, Korkie is willing to lend his time and kindness if they asked. 

Well, unless they’re from Death Watch, a Sith or Palpatine. Then, Korkie’s willing to go to war. He hates them even if he can’t feel hate. 

“Which leaves the question,” Korkie mused. “Who again could have translated my message if it was in Kalevala Mando’a? ”

He could think of only a few clans who would have done it due to their relations to Bo-Katan. Rook, Kast, Saxon and Vizsla come to his mind. Well, Clan Rook did break away from Death Watch after the end of the Mandalorian civil war, but Korkie can never be sure. Still, it leaves three clans and all of them House Vizsla. Which again had Bo-Katan as Pre Vizsla’s second-in-command. 

“Dank farrick, Aunt Bo!” Korkie swore. “There’s a ton of people who could have translated my message!”

Korkie got up from his couch and ran to the throne room. He could hear another round of fighting as Bo-Katan was shouting for a certain duo to stop injuring themselves. As soon as he got to the scene, Axel accidentally pushed him back to the halls. The Nite Owls and Axel gasped as Korkie saw the ceiling instead of the throne room. Axel rushed to his side as he apologized to Korkie.

“Korkie!” Axel shouted. “ Ad’ika, I never meant for you to–”

“DON’T EVER CALL ME AD’IKA! ” Korkie screamed as he got up on his own. “I’m not anyone’s child anymore.”

Axel looked at the ground as Korkie stopped his poker face. He wasn’t having a great day knowing his message got decoded easily. He walked past Axel as the man said nothing. Bo-Katan gave Rin a look that said ‘don’t talk’ as she greeted Korkie with a smile. Except, Korkie wasn’t having it anymore.

“Aunt Bo,” he monotoned. “By any chance did you teach anyone Kalevala Mando’a ?” 

“A few,” Bo-Katan revealed. 

“To whom?”

“Why is this important?”

“To whom? ” Korkie asked again. “My message should not have been decoded that easily. Mandalore has always stayed isolationist even when the Republic wanted bu- Aunt Satine to make it part of the Republic. Even the Grand Army of the Republic couldn’t have known how to translate it that fast. They only came from Jango Fett, and he was from Concord Dawn which meant they could have only been taught Concordian Mando’a . The only reason anyone could have done it so fast is because they would have a grudge on us. On Clan Kryze. Which means anyone from Death Watch must have slipped away and started working for the Empire to get back at us.”

Bo-Katan took a step back as the atmosphere felt like it was changing. It felt too warm, yet with a cold that doesn’t seem to fit the scene. She only felt a sudden change in the atmosphere when her father was alive. Yet, that was because Adonai always told her that she’d never feel cold even on the darkest of nights. He kept that promise until his unfortunate death from the freak weather accident. Since then, Bo-Katan’s always felt the same temperature the environment had without anything different.

She looked at Korkie yet again as he stood there wide-eyed and unhappy. She had always thought Korkie wasn’t normal, but for Satine’s sake, she can’t just jump on to the conclusion that Korkie wasn’t really a cousin’s son, but Satine’s son from her fling with the Jedi Master.

“Aunt Bo,” Korkie said again. “Please, just tell me. I feel like I failed in stalling them and not giving us enough time for whatever they want from us!”

“Korkie,” Bo-Katan said. “First, please calm down. Second, I never exactly trusted Rook Kast or the Saxons. I only taught our dialect to the Wrens. Ursa was the only one I had fully trusted back then. She knew the importance of one’s language and taught no one else unless she had my permission.”

Korkie sighed in relief. Bo-Katan felt the room going back to normal as her nephew went from relieved to uncertain.

“If that’s true, then how did they get their hands on a translator? The most common forms of Mando’a come from the main planet, Concordian, and Ordo. True, House Kryze has been thriving since the twilight years of the Old Republic, but we never produced Mand’alors, and only you and Auntie Satine have enough power and title to technically be equal to a Mand’alor. However, the Republic didn’t really have much interest in learning the Kalevala dialect despite putting both of you on Mandalore’s throne.”

“So this mystery translator is causing you to be extra paranoid?” Bo-Katan asked. “I mean, earlier you were fine and not angry. Now, you just screamed at Axel and started accusing me of betraying the family.”

“Sorry about that, Axel,” Korkie apologized. 

Axel said nothing and just waved. At least he finally understood the anger.

“As for the accusation, Aunt Bo. I did forgive you for what happened to her, but I can’t forget the day I lost the woman who raised me. I try everyday to move on, but I can’t because I’m wearing all these mourning clothes and know the next one is hers. I only do all this civil duty just to feel like nothing is wrong with my life, but now this Empire is coming to my home trying to steal it from me and I’m just angry that someone decoded my  message not even over a week.”

Korkie stopped talking as the room started feeling cold. He was just a wreck of a child. No more Satine telling him he can make a mistake. No more telling his nanny that he’s not fine and needs a rest. He’s not anymore Korkie Kryze the young man with a bright future, he’s now Korkie Kryze, a man who needs to ensure Mandalore can stay afloat.

“I can still do my duties that I planned today, but after that, I just need to recollect what I know about this decoder. I failed to realize that I’m not the only one who knows every Mandalorian dialect.”

Korkie bowed as he walked away from the throne room. No one followed him as he went outside to do his civil duties as Mandalore’s servant. He failed once and thought everything would be fine if he could have saved Satine with only him, Bo-Katan and his friends. Now he knows, he can protect Mandalore. But not without his Force abilities. He can hide them as long as he can from the people, but from now on, he’ll use them as he secretly wishes. 

He failed Satine once, he can’t fail her again.

Bo-Katan looked outside the throne room and beyond watching Korkie as he went to do his work. Since reinstating him as Mandalore’s heir, Korkie was never mad at her and forgave her for everything. Now she knows better. She might have Korkie’s forgiveness, but Korkie will never let her forget her sins.

“I know this is wrong to say,” Rin mused. “But, you kinda deserve it. All of us really. He wasn’t raised to think he doesn’t have the power to save everyone, so him going off on us? Well we all saw it coming. We just never knew when.”

“Rin, Axel,” Bo-Katan said. “Find out who this person is. Korkie’s right. No one betrays Clan Kryze if they lived in Kalevala. And those who do always get their karma.”

Rin and Axel nodded and went to work. Mandalore was not going to become a battlefield again.

Chapter Text

Crosshair never liked looking at himself in front of a mirror when he was mad. He hated counting the wrinkles on his face due to his accelerated ageing and looking at the burnt scar on his head. Yet, here he was. Sitting on a chair, looking at the mirror, and praying.

Crosshair was never religious. Nor did he ever believed in any deity. True, he worked with the Jedi and studied their way of life. Yes, he knew about the Siths due to hearing about Maul. Lastly, he has been around the galaxy as a soldier and understanding the culture. Yet, Crosshair has never in his life ever thought he’d pray to an invisible deity.

Which was why he surprised himself for secretly praying to whatever deity hears him. He knows ancient Mandalorians used to believe in their gods, but the modern Mandalorians got rid of their old religion due to over-fanatic believers and dogmatic war-worshipping lifestyle with none of the leisures of a calm peaceful life. The current belief was the manda, a philosophical and spiritually united state of mind, body and soul. It was also the collective souls of past Mandalorians who followed the Resol’nare and basically the Mandalorian afterlife. 

Yet, Crosshair knows better than to pray for Jango Fett to save his life. Jango was just his donor and nothing more. He knows of Boba Fett, the clone son of Jango, and how Jango only saw him as his son. 

So why bother praying to someone he doesn’t know?

Crosshair hears the familiar knock on his door and stops praying. He knows there wasn’t another message. It’s only been two weeks. He guessed it was Pershing and Nala Se ordering people to get him so they can study him once again. They have been going crazy over the whole ‘leaving-for-Mandalore’ order Rampart gave them and started experimenting how much pain Crosshair can take from whatever simulations they can create. Yesterday, they thought it was a great idea to force him into a drowning simulation. He had to calm his heart and trick his brain into understanding what they were doing to him just so he wouldn’t see Nala Se’s smiling face.

He took a breath and went to the door. Pershing was the one who greeted him. Crosshair hated her as much as he hated Nala Se. Pershing was so fake and artificial, Crosshair wondered if she was a clone herself. He always watched her as she just let Nala Se talk about what she had done to Crosshair when he was younger and thought it was fine to make him relive his childhood misery. She might have been ‘nice’ to Crosshair, but he knows better. Dr. Pershing will sell anyone out for a chance to save herself.

He wishes Korkie sends more messages. He liked translating the one he sent before. The look on their faces when they realized he wasn’t staying was priceless.

“Rampart had visited a few hours earlier,” Pershing said. “He wasn’t in the best of moods.”

When was that man ever in the best of moods? Crosshair can always sense the man’s fragile facade and hope to fully pop it one day. 

“He talked with his cousin,” she continued. “Apparently, she’s the officer being sent to Mandalore. She wasn’t happy to go to a desert planet and they fought. He won, of course.”

Crosshair slightly rolled his eyes. Rampart had a bratty cousin who doesn’t see what they might gain from Mandalore? Might as well just watch the slow and painful death of his commanding officer. Mandalorians do not ever like being disrespected. Not even Satine Kryze liked being disrespected. Sure, if this was Satine, they might be safe from execution, but it is Bo-Katan and Korkie that’s currently running the show. Bo-Katan will end a person’s life, and Korkie might just let her.

Crosshair wanted to smile at the thought of Korkie killing a person. He knows a child being raised pacifist would never let that happen, but he also knows how trauma can change a person.

Pershing kept talking about the spat between Rampart and his cousin while they walked towards the lab. Crosshair braced himself for the torture, but when they got in, he was greeted by someone else.

“Long time, no see, Crosshair,” Commander Cody greeted. 

“And to you too, Ori’vod, ” Crosshair nodded.

While Cody might be a reg, he was the only reg the Bad Batch fully trusted and respected when they were younger. He never bullied them or called them disgusting. He was the only kind reg Crosshair knew as a cadet. Calling Cody Ori’vod or Ori’vod Kote was just their way of respecting him when they felt like it. Having Cody here was rather surprising, but welcoming for him.

Nala Se was there looking at him with a frown, but Pershing quickly took her away for both their sakes. Cody checked the room for any spy cameras and listen devices and found none. He looked back at Crosshair and folded his arms.

“I heard from others that Vice Admiral Rampart had ordered you to be stationed at Mandalore,” Cody said.

“I was ordered,” Crosshair confirmed.

“Is there any reason for you to go there when the Emperor had placed a more important order of you being the reason his heir will be perfect while also becoming the mentor of said heirs once they decant?”

“I was found to be rather fluent in Kalevala Mando’a and Rampart said that the officer overlooking Mandalore was rather linguistically challenged.”

“But Mandalorians can speak both Basic and Mando’a, or does he not know?”

“I am rather inclined to believe he does, but that I was chosen just so they won’t die on the first day.”

Cody started to laugh. It was always a joke among the GAR that they could disguise themselves as Mandalorians and never get caught due to knowing the language. It did prove true to Crosshair once at Krownest when they had to ambush and retrieve a wayward Rodian governor from Clan Wren. Crosshair and Tech disguised themselves as natives of the planet and had successfully retrieved the senator after fooling the entire Clan. True, he and his brothers had to fight them off to get away, and he lost his first firepuncher, but the fact he made Ursa Wren look like a fool was rather nice. 

“She’s a girl,” Cody said. “Your officer? The one that forced this upon you? Erma Rampart, she’s Rampart’s first cousin. Guess he needed a family member to ensure his ties to the Empire.”

“Well, he’s not wrong, but he’s not smart,” Crosshair replied. “Heard she hates Mandalore for being a desert planet.”

“She grew up in the cities. The normal cities without the domes.”

“So she doesn’t know Mandalore at all? I guess I could try not to let her die.”

“You don’t need to do it. You can stay here.”

“ Kote Ori’vod. ”

The room stopped being friendly and more serious. Cody looked at his younger brother and saw the all familiar needle marks and his hands. He understood then why Crosshair was willing to leave. He nodded and placed a warm hand on Crosshair’s shoulder. 

“Then pray Korkie Kryze sends the message.”

Crosshair’s eyes grew a little. “You know?”

Cody looked away from Crosshair and wistfully moved from his current spot. He didn’t stop walking from place to place, almost as if he was thinking of long regretful memories. Crosshair understood the body language and let him walk around. He used to do the same thing when missing his brothers, but he stopped after one too many annoying complaints from his former elite squad.

“I used to be the clone commander of the 212th,” Cody sighed. “We formerly worked with the late General Obi-Wan Kenobi. Kenobi loved Satine Kryze and her death affected him greatly. So, I do know about Korkie Kryze, but I never met him.”

“I never knew him either,” Crosshair said. “He’s a ghost.”

“Yes, he kind of is. Satine and Bo-Katan seem to like the idea of him being a kept secret from the rest of the galaxy.”

“But I have to meet him one day. He thought it was a good idea to put the entire message in Kalevala Mando’a !”

Cody shook his head. “Why? Why do you even know that dialect? Our DNA comes from Concord Dawn!”

“I don’t know. I was a cadet when I started. I am fluent in Concordian Mando’a and I know the main planet Mando’a, but I just didn’t stop wanting to learn others. So I taught myself Kalevala Mando’a after I got fluent in the dialect, but then Nala Se found out right as I was starting to do Ordo. When she learned what I knew, she threatened to decant me if I spoke even one ounce of Kalevala Mando’a and took away everything that helped me learn the dialects.”

“What about when you got old enough to own your own tablet? Did you try to learn the other dialects?”

“I did. I’m not fluent in the others, but it’s manageable.”

“And why is that?”

“Because one of my missions. When I was with Clone Force 99, we had this mission in the Mandalore System. It was in Kalevala. I swore to myself I would never cry on a mission. I kept it until the end of the mission. I cried that I got to speak the dialect. The locals asked me if I was a native and congratulated me when they found out I wasn’t. It was because I spoke like a local and acted like one. Even Clone Force 99 was impressed with me.”

“So you kept getting better in Kalevala Mando’a because you felt validated?”

“I don’t care if you think my reasons are pathetic. I felt like I won against Nala Se. Like she was wrong and I was right.”

Cody walked towards Crosshair. He smiled at him and nodded.

“I loved Kamino because my brothers lived there, but you’re right. The longnecks never get us validation even when we save them. Your reasons aren’t wrong, but you want to be fluent in every dialect now Crosshair. Even if you hate every reg except for me and a selected few, you can get power from your time at Mandalore. Like you said, you know the language and all the dialects, but she doesn’t. Make them know who’s really running the show even if you have to lie.”

“How exactly am I going to do that? Most clones here know Mando’a and can probably understand what’s happening.”

“Then make them realize what they can gain if they follow you. I know you hate them, but Cross’ika, you’re not in the Republic anymore. You can’t rely on anyone but yourself and close allies.”

Crosshair shook his head. Ah, the nicknames. It was pretty clear what Cody wanted him to do.

“I will make our dearest donor Jango Fett proud,” he smiled. “We may never be his sons, but we have royalty in our DNA. We could have truly been a powerful Clan.”

Cody nodded. He remembered his time with Jango and all the clones he helped train. As one of the oldest in the particular group of cadets, Jango trained him to the bone. He often got the brunt of the insults from Jango when they learned how identical they were to each other. All of it because Jango wanted Mandalore back to what it was when Jaster Mereel ruled after the Clone Wars ended. He knew Boba was too young to try to be the Mand’alor if things happened to him. This meant Jango had to have one of the clones be the regent as Boba grew, and Cody was the perfect choice in his eyes. 

Unfortunately for Jango, he was killed by Mace Windu which meant he could never take over Mandalore, and the plan sank faster than any ship wrecked on Kamino. Cody was rather happy since he never wanted to rule a planet, but considering what happened after the Clone Wars, he wished Mace Windu never killed Jango or that Jango should have chosen a better ally. If Jango knew about the chips and how they control every clone’s lives, then he could have stopped the madness that followed. HE could have stopped the Empire from making clones obsolete. He could have saved them all if they knew about Order 66. HE could have saved Fives!

Except he didn’t. He is a dead man with no power. He left the clones powerless in the political sense and no one can stop the Empire from ending them in one day. 

Yet, here was the clone’s last chance in gaining power. Right next to Cody the would be regent himself. Crosshair would save them all. He needs Crosshair to save them all. Crosshair might hate everyone, but he needs people now. In due time, Crosshair would ensure the clones safety if he can take the power and become loved by the Mandalorians. True, it would be hard, but Crosshair went through worse. He can handle it.

Cody nodded. “You might not become Mand’alor, but you know what to do.”

“Yes, Kote Ori’vod. I know what I must do.”

Cody left after one more nod. Pershing and Nala Se came back after he left and closed the door. Crosshair held a neutral face to them. They don’t need to know the plan. They’re nothing to Crosshair.

“What did he ask of you?” Nala Se accused.

“Just that I survive Mandalore,” Crosshair replied. “I can’t do anything to stop Rampart so he just told me to survive.”

Nala Se didn’t believe him, but as she tried to pry him of information a sudden and loud knock echoed in the room. It was Rampart and he needed Crosshair.

The door opened and Rampart walked toward Crosshair.

“Your little messenger had given us another holo,” he hissed. “It seems he can’t speak Basic.”

Crosshair knew that was a lie. Korkie can perfectly speak Basic from his dream.

“I will translate it,” he said. 

“Then do it,” Rampart ordered as he shoved the holo onto Crosshair’s face. “I want it in two hours. I am busy with preparations.”

Rampart left as Crosshair fired up the holo. Korkie was still wearing the outfit from last time. 

“Su cuy'gar ogir.” 

Crosshair smiled. Hello to you too, Korkie Kryze.

Chapter Text

“Ni kar'taylir ibic cuyir vaar, a Ni mar'eyir ogir cuyir Miit'amyc bat gar eso.  Ni ceta, ibic Kelir draar am mayen.  Dinuir Manda'yaim ca'nara par gar ol'averde ra kyr'am Kelir doslanir gar.  Ibice cuyir cuun dajun par te jah'yam.  Draar iviinir.  Balyc, meh gar're aikiyc, te clones cuyir su gebi te aloriya.  Ganar them haa'taylir rud .”

Crosshair smiled. It was a threat, but it’s a rather convincing one. He translated Korkie’s threat.

“I know this is early, but I discovered that there is a translator on your side. Sorry, this will never change anything. Give Mandalore time for your company or death will cross you. These are our plans for the hospitals. Don’t hurry. Also, if you’re desperate, the clones are still near the capital. Have them look around.”

Crosshair closed the holo message and sat down on his bed. Nala Se and Pershing let Crosshair have one day of freedom to figure out Korkie’s message. It really wasn’t that hard to understand Korkie since the duke gave out plans. Even without the translation anyone can understand that Korkie was showing how short they were to completing the rebuilding of Mandalore. Though, the message on having the remaining clones check them out would be important.

From what he heard through several hushed tones, gossips and what little holonews came up from Mandalore, the clones that were subjected to staying there were from the remaining 332nd Division that hadn’t disappeared after the events of the Siege of Mandalore. From what he heard, they were staying at the borders of Sundari and closely watching guard on the royal family. There were talks of Bo-Katan becoming aggressive with them, but that was expected since they might take over her fragile rule. Whether they've seen Korkie is a mystery. He’s only heard that they accidentally let a smuggled person into Mandalore without identifying them. That could have been Korkie, but it would be strange for them to slip up on the job. For one, Mandalorians are extremely stubborn and never back down from a fight which means they have to keep watch at all times. Letting one slip meant that any Mandalorian can come and go without identification. Yet, that was from gossip and clone rumors. Which no one can trust 100% of the time since clones love making those up to pass time.

“I wonder if you love making rumors,” Crosshair smirked. “But you’re too kind for that. You’re even apologizing to me.”

Crosshair could have said it was Rampart who Korkie apologized to, but considering how horrendous the last message was, Korkie might as well have apologized to him. It wasn’t hard to know if an untrained non-Mandalorian was attempting to speak the language. They sounded like a choking tooka in one dialect and a sick porg in the next. With Kalevala Mando’a, it was horrible because of some high pitched words in the dialect. Crosshair never forgot how bad he sounded when he started since it sounded like the mating call of an animal. Rampart’s accent literally butchered the dialect and gave Crosshair nightmares. He hoped the message never went to Bo-Katan, but if it did, Rampart has a murderous Kryze on his tail.

Crosshair opened the holo message again to look at Korkie. He liked to watch people’s body language since it helps with the sniping of enemies. He’s done it multiple times and never missed his targets’ emotions. With Korkie, the subtle body language and his clothing sense were enough to know that he hated Crosshair. Well, the translator he has become. He figures it’s because the messages weren’t supposed to be cracked for more than two weeks, but since fate made Crosshair a translator, Korkie’s not exactly amused to learn he can’t actually stall some time for Mandalore. 

Which begs the question, does Korkie believe he can crack all the messages? Does the Duke of Kalevala think changing dialects would stall the Empire, but not by much with Crosshair’s unwilling help? Or is Crosshair becoming paranoid? 

Considering how slightly spiteful Korkie looked with all the gold on his attire, maybe they were both paranoid. He did start with the idea that the message was early, but Crosshair has been anticipating the message for two weeks. He gave out plans right off the bat and told them to not hurry. Crosshair knows the plans might be fake, but would bring disasters if they weren’t cautious to check it too. Also, he asked for the clones to check. The clones in Mandalore have no choice in having a happy life, and maybe making up lies would give them a sense of payback. Yet, whatever he and Korkie were thinking, they won’t actually know each other until the facade has been broken.

Crosshair looked at the hospital plans. He figures that even if it were fake, Korkie or Bo-Katan had a reason to pick these locations instead of other, more significant locations to choose from. He wasn’t saying hospitals weren’t important, but Mandalorians would have had the hospitals fixed by now since they are prone to injuries. Though, considering the civil war did cause an exodus of multiple Mandalorian clans to flee the planet, and that most have just come back, maybe the clans with the most medical knowledge had run away or were forced to flee for their safety. That, and the fact that he heard Darth Maul had destroyed most of Satine’s legacy out of petty revenge. 

Crosshair never understood the idea that some Mandalorians were okay with letting a raging Sith rule them. True, Siths are the enemies of Jedi, who in turn were the enemies of the Mandalorians, but they were never fully the allies of their Jedi enemies and only saw them as a means to an end. Maul would have never ruled Mandalore with the respect for the Mandalorians and would have sent them to their extinction if he wanted to. 

Yet, Crosshair can’t be hypocritical on their reasoning since he is a soldier himself. He might not like being under everyone who’s hurt him this far, but what can he do? He’s a prisoner of his own choices.

After finishing his reading of the hospital plans, Crosshair had a good idea that all the plans Korkie sent were his stalling plans. There were hospitals that needed to be rebuilt close to the entrance of Sundari since they took most of the damages from the Civil War, a hospital near an academy that must have been Korkie’s old school needed a new bunker, and the one near the Palace where Bo-Katan must be living needed a new outdoor area. They were almost done, but it seemed like they found out they needed more time after finding new flaws. Almost as if a certain duke believed these places weren’t up to par with the hospitals from his memories. 

“Smart boy,” Crosshair smiled. “But you can’t stall forever.”

Crosshair fired up the holo message once again and snorted at the sight of Korkie in his golden attire. How angry would Korkie Kryze become once he sees Crosshair and owes him a favor? It’s not like Crosshair is letting him stall for free. He’s basically one step close to not making it to Mandalore and getting executed from Rampart for his lies. Korkie Kryze owes him at least some political points or a library that hasn’t been destroyed. 

Crosshair stood up from his bed, took the holo message and got out of the room. Like always, a small squad of TK Troopers were at his side. He’d prefer the regs over them, but he can’t do anything unless it’s profitable for Rampart. As he walked with the troopers, multiple other troopers, either clones or nat-born, looked at the sight in front of them and started whispering. The clones were whispering in Mando’a and the nat-borns in Basic. The clones were talking about how Crosshair was more privileged than them since he has his own room and never had to be near the nat-borns that were taking their spots. As for the nat-borns, they were disgusted that a clone was being treated like royalty and never had to deal with the people rebelling outside Weyland. They were cursing his name and hoped he would die. Crosshair had to use all his strength not to roll his eyes because he felt like he was already cursed. The only reason he was living was because he wanted to meet Korkie at Mandalore.

Outside the room Rampart was temporarily occupying, Crosshair ordered one of the TK Troopers to knock on the door for Rampart to know another message was translated. As the trooper got to the door it opened and a young, frowning woman got out of the room. She looked at the men and sneered at Crosshair.

“You must be the translator,” Erma Rampart said. “I hope you do the heavy work for me since I hate to live in a domed city with so many strange people!”

Erma went away as Vice Admiral Rampart ran up to her to bring her back into the room, but stopped short after seeing Crosshair. Crosshair said nothing and showed the holo in his hand. Rampart fumed, but he let it go and asked for all of them to be brought into the room.

“And what has that insufferable man said this time?” Rampart hissed.

“He said that a translator won’t change anything,” Crosshair answered. “There were multiple hospital rebuilding plans that seemed to take more than a couple of months to finish, but he also said that the clones stationed at the border of Sundari would suffice in checking the rebuilding.”

“He’s asking what?”

“During the end of the Siege of Mandalore, the remaining forces of the 332nd Division were ordered to stay in Mandalore to keep the royal family in line. Considering the options, it is easier to make the soldiers that are already there watch the progress.”

“But won’t the Mandalorians stop them from seeing the progress?”

“The Kaminoans had each and every clone take stealth classes and simulations. If they can sneak even just a glance at the progress of the rebuilding, then we’d know if they’re actually getting it finished.”

“Actually getting it finished?”

“Well, there was a plan to expand the hospital near the Sundari Palace.”

Rampart exploded and started mocking Crosshair about his job. He was done listening to the smug clone being so calm when the Empire and Emperor Palpatine himself needed every officer to have an ironclad hold on a planetary system. Rampart was given the task to have someone takeover the Mandalorian sector and since none of his siblings and cousins were less ambitious than him, he had to take his lax cousin Erma as his officer since he knew she couldn’t try to backstab him. Yet, Erma was proving to be such a brat that if his plans fail, he might lose his life. Placing the damn clone was his way of making sure his plans go smoothly, but Crosshair looked rather happy to be going to Mandalore. As if he could rule it by tricking Erma into giving him the officer position and have Mandalore charmed by how knowledgeable he was of their culture. 

“You are a clone!” Rampart roared. “You know how much you are hated by the Mandalorians so don’t even act like one of them.”

“I know that,” Crosshair said. “Korkie Kryze already hates me with every bone of his body.”

Rampart took a step back. “What?”

“He wasn’t happy to learn that I can translate his messages. His body language and the fact that he covered his eyes indicated that he hates me. I’m not in Mandalore, but already Korkie Kryze has a target on my back.”

Crosshair hoped this bluff worked and that instead of Rampart, he would make the message this time. He’d like it if he can tell Korkie that he owes him big time and that he needs more than a cold shoulder to make them know that Crosshair wasn’t lying. 

“If he’s that mad at you,” Rampart said. “Then, you should do it. Make the next message. Have him hate you and not give Erma a problem.”

Crosshair wished he could smirk. He won. Crosshair nodded and was ordered out of the room as Erma came back.

“How is it that there’s no women here?” Erma sighed. “I can’t talk about my problems to these men!”

“The women here are scientists, Erma,” Rampart groaned. “Also, you can’t talk to them since you won’t even understand them.”

The Rampart cousins were too busy in their argument to even notice Crosshair leaving. Before he went back to his room, he ordered them to take him to one of the communications rooms to get a holo recorder for him. The troopers begrudgingly took him to a communication room and let him pick out a holo for him to message Korkie. After taking one of the holos, Crosshair was rushed back to his room and was almost shoved back into it. Crosshair said nothing because he was more focused on the holo in his hand.

For most of his military career, Crosshair let Hunter make the holo messages. Hunter was the sergeant which meant he was always the one to report to their superior, whoever they were. To know what Hunter would talk about in the messages, Crosshair would secretly watch Hunter make the messages and how he was recounting their victories, who they have saved, and how many strongholds they took over. Most times, Crosshair would hear Hunter praising his brothers to their superior, and when Echo joined, he also gave Echo praises to signify him as their new brother. 

Now, Crosshair wonders if Hunter still does that to whoever might want to hear it. Except, instead of Crosshair, Hunter would be praising Omega and how she made their family whole.

“But that’s on me,” Crosshair whispered. “I’m not the one they love.”

Looking at the holo, Crosshair wondered what he should message Korkie about. He wanted Korkie to owe him a favor, but asking him right off the bat would make the young duke put an increasingly huge target on him. He doesn’t know how stable Korkie and Bo-Katan’s relationship is, but considering they are the last of Clan Kryze, Crosshair has to believe that they would protect each other from their enemies. Or at least, Bo-Katan owed Korkie her apologies for helping kill Satine and turning his life upside down through protecting him. Yet, he has to tell Korkie that he knows the boy is stalling. Tell him that their next messages have to be filled to the brim with hatred. Tell him that Rampart needs his cousin to look more presentable than she was and that the whole ambassadoring was going to be a disaster due to her attitude. Tell him that they can benefit from a secret alliance. 

It was risky, but Crosshair has lived through the worst of risks. 

He fired up the recorder and smiled. He looked highly unprofessional. He looked like trash compared to Korkie. He was perfect.

“Su cuy'gar ogir.  Ibic cuyir shi par Korkie Kryze.  Ni linibar ibic at cuyir hiibir at Korkie Kryze sha jiila. Bic cuyir be kando ibac kaysh haa'taylir ibic chaaj'miit. Korkie kryze, gar dajunar cuyir mirdala o'r pehea gar're Ke'pare dayn te Ori'tom'vhetine ti mird be tug’yam jah’yam ibac rucuyir vaii birov be te ori'hett teh te akaan cuyir, bal solus gebi te morut cuy’ru’ mirdala tigaanur. Mayust, Ni kar'taylir bal suvarir meg gar're kebbur at vaabir, a Ni ne'ven ve'ganir o'r gar ara. Taa, pehea vi Gaa'tayl solus ashi? Ni Kelir liser gar vaabir at meg gar enteyor, bal o'r am'gaan, Ni ranov'la ve'ganir cera'gaane bat pehea at yustalir Manda'yaim's naak'jorhayc.  Nayc solus suvarir mhi olar, bid val Kelir draar kar'taylir.  Ni'm looking at'troan'eso at gar projor chaaj'miit. De te ara, ner gai cuyir CT-9904, a gar liser Jor'chaajir ni Crosshair.”

Crosshair closed the holo. Whether or not Korkie Kryze was going to listen to him is up to the duke himself.

Chapter Text

A nightmare is defined as the opposite of a pleasant dream.

A nightmarish vision is defined as Korkie having to witness the atrocities of past Siths and darksiders without his consent and having them order Korkie to join them in embracing the Dark Side. 

For most of his life, Korkie never had the need to deal with choosing either the Light or the Dark side of the Force. He was neutral as Satine was in choosing sides and none of his visions bothered him with dreams and nightmares of having to embrace one side. That was until the day Almec tried to electrocute him and betrayed his Buir with a frame up. The night Almec was arrested, Korkie did his best to sleep peacefully while knowing that his entire life was going to drastically change. Yet, once he entered the realm of his Force visions, he was met with darkness in which he hasn’t felt since childhood. 

Visions of Sith Lords of the past and their apprentices had combed the deepest, darkest parts of Korkie’s psyche for years, but he’d never seen it until that night. He saw the full powers of the Dark side in each and every one of them through their wicked deeds on people and the planets across the galaxies. Saw the rituals that have massacred millions upon millions and left shells of once beautiful worlds. Saw the Jedi-Sith War and the fall of the Old Republic. Saw the Son and how intoxicating the Dark Side was to make a god crave absolute power on the galaxy. 

Currently, Korkie is trying to stop another of these visions, but they keep coming with each darksider ordering him to do the right thing and embrace the darkness inside him so he can fulfill his birthright as a Sith Lord’s descendant. Once he was reminded of what he was, Korkie had no choice but to tap into the Dark side and end these visions, but not before he saw the ritual that created his great-great grandfather. 

A Sith Lord from the High Republic Era, his ancestor was created to destroy the Jedi, but after so many years, no one even remembered his name. Everyone but his descendants. Everyone on Korkie's grandmother’s side of the family knew his name since his ancestor would always be in their nightmares trying to protect them from the darkness they didn’t want to embrace. They all promised each other that unless one of them had to say it, no one should know the Sith Lord’s name in order to protect the rest of the family. His great grandfather died with the secret. His grandmother died with the secret. Satine died with the secret, never telling anyone of her Sith lineage. Not even Obi-Wan knew.

Which meant Bo-Katan and Korkie are the last ones in their family to keep the secret of their Sith connections. Considering how neither Maul or Savage Opress knew of the Kryze’s connection to said Sith Lord bloodline before they were taken out of Mandalore, Korkie had figured that Bo-Katan would rather die than let anyone know of the family’s tainted blood. 

As soon as the visions ended, Korkie woke up in a daze. The room was shrouded in darkness and the voices were still whispering his name. Korkie’s body was paralyzed and his breath was heavy. It was like he was still having a nightmare. Gritting his teeth and holding back his tears, Korkie absorbed the darkness back into his body and sighed a sobbing breath as the darkness went away. He wobbled his way to his fresher and looked at the mirror. He gasped in shock and his legs crashed to the floor. Using the Dark side had horrible side effects on the user’s physical body. For Korkie, the side effects were noticeable without the use of illusions. His left side of the face was marred with pulsing veins of darkness, his hands and feet became darkened metallic claws that could tear down any metal other than beskar, his tail also became metallic in the light, and his left eye switched colors of blue and gold. Truly, Korkie was a monster worthy of being a Sith Lord. 

“It’s not my fault,” Korkie whimpered. “It’s not my fault for being born like this.”

When Korkie was younger, he wanted to learn more about his grandparents’ heritages and wanted to know which familial side he took most after. He looked like a regular auburn blond haired human male with blue eyes and a sweet smile. Except for the fact he was born with claws, fangs and a tail. Nevertheless, Satine still loved him even with the huge mishap that was his appearance. Satine told him that it was from both sides of his family and that it was normal for him to possibly inherit them. Yet, the disappointment in his ancestor’s eyes was enough for Korkie to understand that he should have never been born that way. That Korkie was supposed to look and be truly normal. That he wasn’t supposed to ever be susceptible to the Dark Side with all the side effects.

“I should have been more careful,” the Sith Lord once whispered. “I never wanted my wife’s bloodline to be tainted.”

Since hearing those words, Korkie has forced himself to look normal and act normal whenever he was in Mandalore or in the Mandalore System. He did this for everyone he cared about. For his ancestor’s approval. For Satine’s people and Mandalore. For his friends and family who did know his secret. Korkie Kryze was a normal person to everyone who knew him and that was that. 

Until it wasn’t.

Korkie cried harder. It wasn’t fair! He didn’t ask for this. He never asked for being Force sensitive or susceptible to the Dark side. He just wanted to be normal and have nothing to worry about other than being a Mandalorian. Yet, he had no choice but to be born like this.

Korkie wobbled back to his feet. He took another look at himself and stripped his clothes off. His tears made a mess of him so he went to his shower to clean off the pain. When he was done, he got out of the shower, took a towel to dry himself and walked outside with nothing but his underwear and a robe. He casted another illusion on himself to look normal and watched as the dome set the time to daybreak. Korkie sat on the couch and waited for his ladies-in-waiting knowing very well he was going to cry and lose control of his illusion. 

It was over two weeks now and that meant Korkie was going to finally wear Satine’s mourning clothes. The idea of him wearing anything of hers made Korkie’s heart mourn. She would always wear some of the best fashionable clothes in the galaxy and anyone trying to pull off one of Satine’s styles of clothing wouldn’t look as beautiful as her. In Korkie’s eyes, no matter how much blood and looks they shared, he could never be as beautiful as his Buir Satine and he preferred it that way. Satine was a one of a kind woman and no one can contest that in his heart.

A soft knock and Korkie smiled. “Come in!”

Rana and the ladies opened his room and smiled as fake as him. They did not want Korkie to go through with wearing Satine’s mourning attire. They know he’d break the instant they were done placing the circlet on his head. Korkie loved Satine with his entire heart and soul and would be proud to have her old things, but that does not mean he’d be happy to wear it. 

“We changed a bit of it,” Alia said. “I mean your shoulders are a bit broader than hers.”

“And your waist too,” Moria added. 

“And you know,” Rana said. “The inheritance.”

“The shoes?” Korkie whined.

“She wore flats, Korkie,” Iki said. “You’ll live.”

Korkie got up from his couch, and he and the girls got started with his clothes change. Korkie put on the dress with stilled breath as the fabric touched his skin. It felt unreal and cold to his touch. Yet, he kept going. The girls tighten the strings on the dress as Korkie watches them wondering if they wished Bo-Katan was the one wearing it. The shoes were placed in front of him as he put them on. Satine understood the need for comfort and her shoes fit her son just fine. Korkie was taken to his vanity and had his hair done to accommodate Satine’s circlet and jewelries. She didn’t wear much, but the ones that she wore became noticeable as they broke away from the melancholy gray and black using blue gems and gold accents. Almost as if she knew that anyone can move on from a death. Once Rana placed the circlet on Korkie’s head, he stood up to look at himself in the mirror that the girls brought.

Like they predicted, Korkie broke in fits of tears. His illusion of a normal person disappeared with his happiness. Korkie looked at the mirror once again and crashed onto the floor. The ladies didn’t just change the dress for him, they made sure that Korkie would wear the dress in either form according to Satine’s wishes.

One time, a long time ago in Korkie’s broken heart, Satine had found Korkie wearing his grandmother’s old wedding dress and tried to act like a bride on her wedding day. She asked if he liked wearing her dress and he blushed saying he can’t wait to marry the love of his life wearing something beautiful. Since then, Satine had her clothes have secret instructions on how it could also fit Korkie in case he ever wanted to wear her old clothes. Korkie found this out after he asked if he could wear a replica of one of her red outfits. The fact his tail had a spot for him when it pops out was a rather huge hint. He did confront her about this, not to get mad at her, but to ask if she had instructions on all her outfits. Satine wasn’t about to lie to him and confessed about every outfit she had made and worn. Including the one Korkie was wearing now. 

“I wish I never said those stupid words or worn that dress!” Korkie wailed. “If I had known this would happen, then I would never have done anything like that and I would have just worn a replica instead of this.”

“Korkie,” Rana comforted. “Satine would be heartbroken to hear that. You know she loved it when you wore your families’ outfits.”

“I know that, but it just hurts to even remember those memories. It’s like having a fever dream and then waking up to a cruel nightmare. This is torture.”

“Korkie,” Iki said. “Please be strong! This is just temporary. Soon, your outfit will be completed and you’re wearing that one next.”

“I only made the top.”

“It’s better than nothing,” Hile commented. “I mean, with the amount of depression you have, we’re all surprised you even started.”

Korkie looked at the girls and smiled. “Thank you, Hile. Thank you too, Iki.”

Korkie got back on his clawed feet and took a breath. Moria was on his right side straightening the circlet and holding him steady. She patted his back as he looked at the mirror again.

“We all miss her too,” Moria said. “She was a good woman and a good Buir . She had flaws, but everyone has flaws and she never pointed out ours because she knew we could do better.”

Daya got to Korkie’s left and straightened the dress as Korkie moved his tail for her to fix.

You know she instructed this for you, Daya signed. Not because she thought she’d die this early, but because she knew you were always going to be the one to wear this regardless of Bo-Katan being alive. 

Korkie sighed. Even when she knew Bo-Katan could one day take up the mantle of the Head of House Kryze, Satine also knew that Bo-Katan had a bit of an issue when it comes to their mourning traditions. She complained that the mourner was basically defenseless when they wore the outfits, and the idea that the mourner must wear all the past outfits was off putting to her because the clothes were so old. Her disagreements with the Kryze mourning tradition, despite her stance on tradition, was enough for Satine to instruct a will that made Korkie the mourner instead.

Was it cruel? If one isn’t purely heartless, then it was cruel. Yet, it’s better than letting Bo-Katan get mad at tradition. 

Which was a slight victory in Korkie’s eyes. Bo-Katan can keep her hypocritical opinions on certain traditions to herself. 

“I had terrible visions before all of you came,” Korkie admitted. “I really don’t care what anyone does at this rate but if anyone can distract me, I’d be happy even for a slight moment.”

Rana and the girls cringed. They did have some news for Korkie, and it wasn’t good. 

“You sure, Vod? ” Iki asked.

“I am two steps farther from the Light. I can handle one day thing today.”

Alia got to his side and gave him a holo message. She gave him a disappointed look and swung her head side to side.

“It’s the Empire,” she said. “And worse, the translator was the one to send this.”

Korkie fired up his message and bit his lips. The translator and his current target of interest was rather bold with this new message. He even looked the part. Ratty, battered and unkempt, wholly unlike Korkie with his graceful looks. 

“Su cuy'gar ogir.” The message greets.

Korkie scoffs at the replay of their last message. A shot worth firing in his eyes.

“Ibic cuyir shi par Korkie Kryze.  Ni linibar ibic at cuyir hiibir at Korkie Kryze sha jiila. Bic cuyir be kando ibac kaysh haa'taylir ibic chaaj'miit. Korkie kryze, gar dajunar cuyir mirdala o'r pehea gar're Ke'pare dayn te Ori'tom'vhetine ti mird be tug’yam jah’yam ibac rucuyir vaii birov be te ori'hett teh te akaan cuyir, bal solus gebi te morut cuy’ru’ mirdala tigaanur. Mayust, Ni kar'taylir bal suvarir meg gar're kebbur at vaabir, a Ni ne'ven ve'ganir o'r gar ara. Taa, pehea about vi Gaa'tayl solus ashi? Ni Kelir liser gar vaabir at meg gar enteyor, bal o'r am'gaan, Ni ranov'la ve'ganir cera'gaane bat pehea at yustalir Manda'yaim's naak'jorhayc.  Nayc solus suvarir mhi olar, bid val Kelir draar kar'taylir.  Ni'm looking at'troan'eso at gar projor chaaj'miit. De te ara, ner gai cuyir CT-9904, a gar liser Jor'chaajir ni Crosshair.”

The message ended with the trooper, Crosshair, in mocked bow. Another shot fired.

Korkie slightly opened his mouth and licked his lips. No blood. Good for him.

Then, without warning, Korkie threw the message to the floor and had to be held back by the women before he could stomp on the message.

“Hold yourself!” Morai cried. 

“You can punch him when he’s here,” Hile suggested. “I mean this place has a ton of rooms, no one will know.”

“Don’t encourage those Dark thoughts!” Rana scolded.

Korkie eventually calmed down as Alia took the holo message. He went back to his vanity to arrange the jewelry and smooth out any lines on the dress. Daya signed to him if he was okay and Korkie signed back that he wasn’t.

“HOW?” he wailed. “How did that man figure me out so easily?”

“He looked desperate,” Iki pointed out. “And we all know what desperate people do.”

“True, he figured out that we’re actually stalling and is threatening us with blackmail,” Alia agreed. “But why?”

“Well, he’s a clone trooper if his name and number states it,” Morai said.

“And what does that have to do with the blackmail?” Hile asks.

“Everything,” Korkie answered. “Clones are currently being replaced by what the rumors and my visions are telling me. Crosshair must be in a difficult situation if he’s resorting to this. I mean, Bo-Katan reluctantly allied with me because she was replaced.”

“Makes sense,” Rana agreed. “But, should we help him?”

“It’s not ideal, but maybe I can mess with him? Make him think I’m helping? He never specified what he needed to know.”

“He figured you out in one message!” Hile reminded him. “What if he’ll figure this out?”

Korkie sighed and rubbed his chin. Hile wasn’t wrong. If Crosshair can figure him out in one message, what’s to say he wouldn’t figure out the next messages? Yet, Korkie needed him to stall the Empire in order for Bo-Katan and her allies to prepare for a fight. He covered his slight smirk with his thumb and mentally applauded Crosshair. 

“He’s putting me in his shoes,” Korkie said. “Make my situation as daunting as his. Make me sympathize or agree with his conditions. Clever man.”

“And a horrible one!” Iki screamed. “So what are we going to do?”

Korkie looked at the girls and faced them. He placed his hands behind his back and smiled.

“We’ll have to comply with him,” Korkie answered. “But, like I said, I’m going to mess around with his head.”

How? Daya signed. He’ll figure it out, and Mandalore, or maybe just you, will be in deep trouble.

“That is true, but what if we just give him points on how to make Buir’s people like him and make him feel like he belongs here?”

“Bad idea, not one of the New Mandalorians like cold-blooded warriors,” Rana said.

“True, but what if we make him see our point of view and not the Empire? I mean, it’s only him and a small group. Cut them from him, isolate him with us, let me manipulate his mind, and he might want to ally with us and spill their secrets.”

Rana and girls step back as they saw Korkie’s eyes switch from blue to gold. Satine had never pulled her punches when she told them of Korkie’s unfortunate condition. Born Force sensitive with an affinity for the Dark Side, Korkie had to be raised in the teachings of the Sith by his ancestor Sith Lord, Darth Obscura, and had often battled with the allure of the Dark Side. With Satine gone, Korkie’s main reason not to fall to the Dark Side was gone. The only reasons he hadn’t fallen yet were remaining friends, and Rana and his handmaidens. Yet, in their eyes, Korkie was losing the battle and was willing to embrace his darkness if it meant he could keep what little remained of Satine’s reign.

“Korkie,” Rana said. “Please don't do that. We can find another way.”

“There’s not much in finding other ways,” he coldly said. “Even if I have to use the Dark Side, I will do whatever it takes to protect what is left of my mother. Mandalorian rivalries be damned.”

“But can you handle it?” Alia asked. “You never finished all of your grandfather’s teaching before he passed and granted you the title of Sith Lord.”

“Maybe not, but Siths never really finish their teachings before they kill for power. I’m just glad he left me a bunch of Sith holocrons before he passed.”

“And are those enough?” Morai asked.

“Considering Siths love to manipulate people to do their dirty work, I’d say yes. But I guess I have to polish my old abilities now since I have an idea of who I’m up against. I must get to work on the reply.”

“Not right now Korkie,” Hile said. “You have a busy political day with Bo-Katan and the rest of the Houses.”

Korkie groaned. Of course he had a busy day with the Houses of Mandalore. They themselves had issues with the idea of an ambassador from the Empire coming here and possibly turning their world upside-down right after they just finished with one political mess.

“Alright,” Korkie seethed. “Let’s go do that. I hope they sense that I’m not happy and finish their squabbles.”

With a fake smile, Korkie and his entourage left the room.

Chapter Text

Not even a minute. Not even one. Single. Minute. 

The entire throne room was filled with hurls of insults and calls for honor fights. A few items hit the floor with such noise that it echoed through the halls. Screams got louder as soon as Korkie walked up the door.

Korkie rolled his eyes. Bless Satine for teaching him patience under pressure because he swears the instant he enters the room he’ll just kill some unfortunate victim. Warrior or not.

“We might just enter the room without anyone hearing us,” Rana said. 

“Nope,” Korkie replied.

He kicked the door with a secretive Force push and happily announced himself with a smile as everyone looked at him. Some had their mouths wide open in shock at his appearance, some quickly quieted in respect for him and Aunt Bo-Katan was looking rather guilty when he appeared.

“Hello, everyone,” Korkie greeted. “I apologize for kicking the door, but I thought it was locked.”

“It wasn’t,” Bo-Katan said. “Welcome, Korkie.”

“Thank you. I also must announce my entourage. Everyone, my entourage. My long-time caretaker, Rana Mor, and my ladies-in-waiting, Alia Eldar, Hile Dayo, Moria Awaud, Daya Mor, and Iki Detta. They’ve been my entourage since childhood, but they only started to assist me after the civil war and Satine Kryze’s death.”

Everyone quickly fell into a deeper silence. As much as they can agree to disagree about Satine and her reign, one thing is universal to them. Korkie Kryze was the most pitiful victim of Satine’s murder. They always joked about Korkie’s true parentage when looking at the two, but considering bastards are still part of the family, it’s still rude to make an orphan miss their lost family member.

“Korkie,” Bo-Katan said. “I’m rather surprised that you’re here.”

“Really?” Korkie asked. “I had this meeting in my planning book. I thought since we’re talking about the Empire’s ‘ambassador’ and their translator, I’d have my two credits in.”

“Well, no one here agrees with anything!” Axel screamed.

“If it’s the translator, I’ll handle him,” Korkie declared. “I had the unfortunate wake up via holo-message from him and learned that he’s a clone, meaning he learned our politics during the war.”

“A clone?” Bo-Katan asked. “That can’t be true. No clone ever talked in our dialect.”

“Well, Aunt Bo, considering he decoded my first and previous messages, he can speak our dialect and he’s rather fluent. Because of that, I’m not about to let this man walk Mandalore like he owns it and I’m throwing myself in the fray.”

Everyone gasped and looked at each other. Korkie Kryze wants to deal with an enemy? They know he fought against Pre Vizsla and Maul’s forces to try to save Satine, but that was for Satine. This clone has no ties with Satine and is completely with the Empire, which emerged after Satine.

“You want to possibly throw yourself in a political fight?” Rin questioned.

“I was raised in politics, this man wasn’t. Yet, he manages to insert himself into coming here despite his status as a clone and we have zero idea if he’s even on the Empire’s side out of loyalty or out of fear. A cornered enemy is still a dangerous enemy and he’s already made a hit on becoming my enemy instead of my aunt. I don’t why he’s after me, but it’s enough to make me want to fight him even if weapons aren’t involved.”

“He did what now?” Bo-Katan asked. 

“Let’s just say he knows we’re stalling, but thinks it’s cute and lets it pass as long as he can have fun decoding my message. I’m basically just stalling him for his enjoyment.”

Korkie knows he can end Crosshair’s job as a translator if he told the truth, but he needs Crosshair on his side if he wants to figure out Palpatine’s plans for Mandalore. Still, it’s quite bothersome to even protect Crosshair when he’s aiming for a power play of his own.

“That man is crazy! Are you sure you want to even look at him?”

“He’s not bad looking, he looks like an injured tooka. A very burnt-looking injured tooka though.”

“Not that. I mean are you sure you want to even be near him?”

“Well Aunt Bo, I must. He knows Kalevalan Mando’a, and I have zero idea how any clone can even speak our dialect with such a fluent mouth that I’m surprised he wasn’t born there.”

“I think I know,” Iki said. 

Everyone looked at her, but she paid no mind. 

“Last year, I remember going back to my hometown in Kalevala,” Iki recalled. “I was visiting my cousins and asking them about the latest gossip. Well, the eldest said that a group of unusual looking clones visited the place needing fuel and one of them surprisingly knew the dialect and talked as if he was local. The rest of my cousins said the exact same thing and their buir even said she spoke to him in Kalevalan without him missing a tone. This was a week before I visited.”

“Did you get a name?” Axel asked.

“No, but my cousin said the clone had a unique tattoo. It’s in the shape of a crosshair.”

Korkie didn’t say anything. So Crosshair had been on Kalevala and he did a pretty good job of acting like a local. Yet, it didn’t explain how he got fluent in the dialect.

“Do you think it’s the same clone?” Bo-Katan asked.

“I don’t know,” Iki replied. “The holo looked rather blurry this time.”

“That’s not it,” Korkie countered. “The holo was fine, the clone looked ragged and dirty. I wouldn’t be surprised if they never gave him a bath when he made that message. The Empire is doing their best to harass us.”

“We are also harassing them,” said a New Mandalorian clan leader. “Which I disagree with.”

“It’s for the good of Mandalore. As long as our spies keep being stealthy, they can find ways to stall them, and frankly, I don’t care how they do it as long as they give us enough time.”

The New Mandalorians were rather taken aback with Korkie. Where was the boy Satine raised to be a pacifist? Who is that man standing and wearing his skin? Are they truly one in the same?

“I know you’re all surprised by my new attitude,” Korkie coldly said. “But I am done with people taking what is mine. Mandalore is my heritage, our people are my people, and no one in that Empire will take what is mine.”

No one countered his argument. They were afraid of this new Korkie. Yet, they still had to discuss the ambassador.

“If you’re taking on the translator,” a clan leader said. “What are we to do with the ambassador?”

“She’s not well-versed in our culture,” Alia said. “That’s one advantage we have.”

“Correct, we have multiple clans,” Hile said. “Multiple traditions, multiple food, and multiple planets that she doesn’t know.”

“That means you can just confuse her until she leaves Mandalore,” Moria added.

“And if she doesn't?” ask a Night Owl.

“Take her to the desert,” Iki said. “She’s bound to cry in the harshness of the desert.”

 “So, we’re torturing her,” Bo-Katan nodded. 

“Mentally torturing her,” Rana clarified. “Anything physical might be seen as an act of war in the eyes of the Empire.”

The council and the Night Owls started discussing in agreement. Bo-Katan walked up to her nephew’s shoulder and smiled.

“You truly look like her,” she smiled.

“She secretly had some dresses tailored for me,” Korkie whispered.

“I understand if you’re mad, but I don’t think I can pull off the clothes as much as you just did.” 

Korkie shrugged. “I don't know if I'm actually pulling this off. I’m not as beautiful as her.”

Daya nudged him in the shoulder. Shut up or else.

I’ll try, but it’s not easy, Korkie signed back.

Daya and Korkie signed back and forth and the girls also started arguing in sign language against him. Bo-Katan smiled at the scene as she felt remorseful for Korkie. Amis, Lagos, and Soniee were forced to leave Korkie’s side during the civil war for their protection. Their parents reasoned that they weren’t warriors like Bo-Katan and her Night Owls and that Death Watch did beat them when they were attempting to rescue Satine. They told Bo-Katan that as long as they were unprepared and unskilled, they couldn't be near Korkie. Korkie accepted their reasoning, but Bo-Katan found him depressed on his balcony looking at the stars as if he was waiting for someone. Yet, looking at Korkie now as he kept arguing with his ladies-in-waiting, Bo-Katan was grateful he still had other friends near his side.

“Korkie,” Rana said. “Daya, and the rest. Enough.”

Korkie and Daya stopped arguing. The girls reluctantly did the same. Rana looked at Bo-Katan and smiled.

“We still have a few plans to check off, Lady Bo-Katan. We must leave to check them.”

Bo-Katan looked at Korkie. Korkie nodded and asked to leave the room. Bo-Katan let them leave as she went back to discussing with the council.

As the group went outside the palace, Korkie looked at Rana.

“I only planned to continue finishing my mourning clothes,” Korkie said. 

“And yet,” Rana muttered. “You were only thinking of him back there until Bo-Katan came over and Daya started arguing.”

“Can you blame me? Crosshair was actually at Kalevala last year, and he acted like a local just like he talks right now. Do you think I can be calm when I just found that out?”

“But Korkie,” Iki called. “I just said that my cousin said that he had a crosshair tattoo.”

“Clones are named by their specialties, their personalities, and something that makes them unique. Crosshair must have been named by his specialty or by his appearance. And a crosshair tattoo can be an indicator for appearance.”

“Which is why we’re going to the border of the dome,” Rana replied. “We need to speak to the clones there.”

“Problem,” Hile said. “The majority of us can look like passing common folk, but Korkie’s here looking like he stole the night and isn’t giving it back. How are we going to hide him?”

“I have some friends at the clothing stores near the dome borders. Korkie can easily get a disguise.”

“Or I can just use my Force illusions?” Korkie pointed out.

“Too risky for this time,” Rana countered. “They’ll just think you’re a Jedi and kill you.” 

Korkie rolled his eyes. He wished someone in Kamino had actually made a presentation differentiating the Jedi and the Sith to the clones. Yet, he can’t be greedy. He needs answers.

Hailing a hover taxi, the group went their way to Rana’s friends’ store near the border. Korkie looked around his home and sighed. He truly had limited time until Crosshair landed in Mandalore. The Mandalorians were getting anxious with the idea of the Empire breathing down their throats that they rebuilt almost every building, save the hospitals, somewhat to their former glory. He knows the buildings will last as long as there isn’t another civil war, but how long until another comes to Mandalore?

“You’re making the taxi ride feel really uncomfortable,” Alia said.

Korkie took a breath and calmed down. “Sorry, it’s just…”

“Change is a part of life, Korkie,” Rana reminded him. “Good or bad, let life happen.”

“Do we truly have a month or so to stall him? Or did I just shoot myself in the foot for arrogantly claiming to handle him? There’s too many factors I can’t control even if I am a Sith Lord.”

“Well,” Moria said. “Control the ones you can. Which technically includes Crosshair himself.”

Korkie smirked. “I’ll try, but we won't know him well until he gets here.”

 As the taxi made its stop, Korkie took another look upon his surroundings. Multiple Mandalorians might have destroyed Sundari, but Mandalorians have also repaired their capital. It’s almost second nature in Korkie’s mind. Mandalorians have a fight, they destroy everything, but they can also repair what’s broken. Alia dragged Korkie to their destination and Rana guided them through the area. Once the store became visible, Rana walked faster and then let the girls and Korkie inside.

“Rana!” a happy middle aged Twi’lek male called. “You’re here, and you brought friends.”

“We just need one disguise, Orai,” Rana said. “It’s for this one.”

Rana introduced Korkie to Orai as Korkie courtesy. “ Su cuy'gar. I am Korkie.”

“ Su cuy'gar, Ni'm Orai,” Orai said. “So you’re the famous Korkie that Rana helped raise.”

“Well, Nanny Rana has been the best at her job. I wouldn’t be able to cook if she hadn’t taught me. Nor clean a room, foil my laundry and look presentable. I’m always grateful that my aunt found her and let her raise me.”

Orai laughed. He knew Rana loved talking about Korkie like he was he ba’ade , but he never thought he’d hear such praises from said child. Though, he also knows from Rana that Korkie can’t really say anything horrible about the people he loves, so it’s not really a surprise.

“Well, Rana,” Orai smiled. “What type of disguise does Korkie need.”

“We need to meet up with the clones,” Rana explained. “There’s been a rather surprising development about the Empire’s ambassador and her entourage.”

“So how?”

“The translator is a clone. We need to know if they might know him.”

“And Korkie’s current outfit is quite showy, so you need something much more plain than this.”

Rana nodded. Orai nodded back and told them to sit down at the gallery as he went to the backroom. As they waited, Korkie looked at all the dresses and armor in the room. It was a nice blend between traditional and New Mandalorian outfits. Almost as if anyone can just sit here, forget about different ideologies and wear whatever suits them. 

“You’re thinking again,” Rama said.

“I’m a child of two worlds,” Korkie said. “Yet, this store doesn’t care about differences. Well, Mandalorian ideology differences.”

“It’s a clothing store. Clothes should embrace the wearers, not their ideology nor their allegiance.”

Korkie said nothing back. He nodded in agreement and waited. 

Orai came back with a plain cape and hood, worn out looking pants and a white shirt. Korkie sighed in happiness looking at the plain clothing. As much as he honors the Kryze’s family tradition of mourning clothes, he prefers to wear something that won’t make him cry.

“It's the best plain clothes I have,” Orai said.

“It’s perfect,” Korkie beamed. 

He walked up to Orai to ask about payment and disguising himself here. Orai laughed at his generosity, then told him to just take the clothes and showed Korkie the disguise changing room. 

It took some time, but Korkie managed to get the dress and accessories off without problem and dressed up in plain clothes. Then, he put on the hood last and covered his face. No one will care if there’s a masked Mandalorian, they might just insult him for not having an armored mask. By the time he was done, the girls were ready for their next destination. Korkie went next to them and opened the door.

“Come back when you can,” Orai said.

“I’ll try,” Korkie said as the group nodded goodbye.

The walk to the border was long and it started to become gloomy. There were people of every race and age looking happy far from the border, but those near the border were filled with hatred and disgust. Korkie didn’t know if they lived near the border or if they just commute there for work, all he knows is that their anger was directed at one specific reason.

The clones. The remaining 332nd Company had orders straight from the emperor to stay put in Mandalore for the sake of ‘security’. Everyone, including the clones themselves, knew that was all Sith osik as Mandalorians weren’t fragile despite the years of pacifism. 

Satine never executed any warrior Mandalorian just for their beliefs and instead let them thrive. There were multiple clans that kept the warrior way even under her reign. Bo-Katan was a warrior despite being Satine’s literal sister. 

Korkie was raised like a Sith for Satine’s sake and she agreed to let him be raised that way.

Palpatine was just a paranoid, power-hungry, shabuir with no actual reason to watch Mandalore as they didn’t care for the Republic or this new Empire. 

Yet, the clones had little choice since he did know what could happen to them. Shot and put down like an animal. With the unfortunate chance of their brothers being the ones to end them.

“Disgusting,” Korkie whispered as they got closer to the clones.

“What’s disgusting?” Iki asked.

“They didn’t want to stay here, but if they leave, Palpatine might force their brothers to kill them as if their brotherhood meant nothing. The clones might not be Mandalorian proper, but they still have Mandalorian blood. Killing their brother won’t just be an insult to their bond, but an insult to their heritage.”

“You think they respect our heritage that much?”

“They talk like us, act like us, fight like True Mandalorians, and have family dynamics like us. Take out the fact they're clones and they were made to die for a horrid war, they’re just like us.”

“You really can’t see the worst sides of people, can you?” Alia said.

“Well, I don’t want to,” Korkie replied. “If I see life as this bleak and horrible world that needs to be cleansed, then I'll be the Sith Lord my buir had feared all those years ago.”

“But you are a Sith Lord. You were hailed as one after your ancestor and late master’s death.”

“I only got the title because I made him sick and he did not improve. I didn’t win it. I’m no Sith Lord.”

“You said most Siths kill their masters before they’re ready,” Rana pointed out.

“Not my bloodline. Grandfather was the outlier only because he was created for the title and the power. I was born and I was raised to be a successful successor, and I didn’t do my job.”

“At least he made you the heir.”

Korkie wanted to rebuff the claim, but Rana was not wrong. Korkie was chosen as Darth Obscura’s heir the instant it was confirmed that he had the power needed to be the next Sith Lord. Satine had her issues with that, but what can she do when her son had nightmares and visions she could not help with?

The group directly in front of the border entrance that the remaining clones were stationed at. The 332nd were not surprised to see them. As if they were ready for a heckling from some Mandalorian.

“Hello there,” Korkie said.

All the clones whipped their heads towards him. They never thought they’d hear those words anymore from anyone. Korkie pulled his hood down and put down his mask. He didn’t want them to think he’s there to insult them and harass them. The leader of the 332nd looked at him as if he saw a ghost. Well, a Jedi ghost. 

“Clone Lieutenant Haran,” Korkie greeted. “My name is Korkie Kryze. I believe I never had the opportunity to meet you nor meet your battalion. I apologize for the slight oversight."

Chapter Text

Despite the shaky first impressions, Lieutenant Haran was more than gracious towards his guests. He even became surprised when Duke Kryze had told him he didn’t need to make the meeting special and was fine with standing while they discussed the reason behind the meeting.

“Duke Kryze,” Haran said. “I don’t want you to think my battalion is full of uncultured and dumb clones.”

“It’s fine, and just Korkie would be nice,” Korkie replied. “You didn’t ask to be here watching guard when there’s something more important out there, and truly, I don’t want to be a bother to people.”

“But–”

“But nothing. I’m actually here for information, not pleasantries. So, none of you should act noble to me. You’ve already been bullied, jeered, and insulted by people who don’t need anything from you. Why should you act nice to someone who’s actually wanting something from you?”

“Because it’s the right thing to do,” said a clone trooper. “My name is TikTok, your highness.”

“Hello to you, TikTok. Also, please, I already said it’s fine to call me Korkie. I find hearing my inherited titles to be melancholy. Afterall, I never wanted to inherit things this way.”

“No one wants to inherit titles that way,” Haran agreed. “I lost too many brothers during the war, so I understand. Before I was a Lieutenant, I had at least a couple of brothers ranked above me, and look what I had to inherit.”

“For some people, it’s a joyous day when they inherit things. Yet, we know better. It’s actually a pain for those with strong and genuine bonds.”

“Aren’t the happy ones just greedy people?” TikTok asks.

“Mostly,” Iki nodded. “It’s not fair for some people, but at least you guys aren’t greedy.”

“Iki!” Rana exclaimed. “Where did you learn that?”

“From my aunts? They’ve got friends who married greedy people. I swear, some people are lonely for a reason.”

Haran, TikTok, and some of the battalion chuckled at Iki’s comment. It’s true what she said. Many of them had seen the worst greed can do during the war. Some families were happy that the war came and killed certain members just so they could own a piece of inheritance. Some used the war to gain power from a family member’s death. Some were just done with family and hoped the clones would kill their family members. 

It never made sense to them, but they understood the harshness of shallow bonds. The clones weren’t like natborn families and weren’t expected to act like them. They were made to be an army, but what the Kaminoans forgot was that they still ended up forming their own families after sharing traumas and comfort for one another. They loved their brothers dearly, and the thought of hurting one another on purpose was absurd. Though they had heard that some brothers would bully others, Haran and his battalion were thick as blood, and nothing can change that bond. He felt sorry to those who can’t bond with their family the way he has with his brothers.

“Well, Iki,” Korkie smiled. “You certainly made quite an impression on them. Though, keep it to a certain level.”

“We heard worse,” another trooper said. “She’s not wrong. Um, my name's Gar.”

“Nice to meet you, Gar!” Iki waved.

Gar waved back as the battalion saw their guests relaxing. They understand if only one of them wasn’t on guard, but with the current situation, it’d be a surprise if no one was relaxed.

“So,” Haran said. “This information you came for. What is it?”

“By any chance,” Korkie replied. “Does the number CT-9904 ring a bell?”

“Well, a 99 number indicates a member of the Clone Force 99, or as the Bad Batch as they call themselves,” TikTok answered. “Though, I don’t remember who’s got which number.”

“Just hope it’s not Crosshair,” Gar said. “He’s the worst of them.”

“You mean the nightmare of the Bad Batch?” called another trooper.

“No, he meant the demagolka of the entire clone army!” exclaimed another one.

“The nightmare informant!” “Cold-hearted sniper!” “The most venomous snake ever created.”

More and more clone troopers had started calling Crosshair by a bunch of cruel nicknames. Haran felt like he couldn’t stop them and TikTok knew stopping them won’t do anything to lessen their disgust with Crosshair. Every clone in the battalion met Crosshair at least once in separate missions, and while they understood why he never wanted to be near them, they wished he could just be a bit cordial since not every clone is cruel and rude to him and his brothers. They were so wrapped up in talking about missions with Crosshair that they didn’t see Korkie twitch in anger and breathing heavily.

“Korkie?” Alia murmured in concern.

Korkie did not answer and just kept listening to their issues with Crosshair. Korkie already thought Crosshair was going to be hard to deal with considering the clone’s cleverness, but this was so much worse than what he thought. Apparently, Crosshair was ten or even twenty times as worse as Korkie imagined. Afterall, what clone would cause this much issue with a well sized battalion?

“Hey!” Moria screamed at the battalion. “You’re making Korkie angry!”

Haran, TikTok, Gar and the rest finally snapped out of their discussions and looked at Korkie. They saw a young man twitching his eyes and breathing heavily at the thought of Crosshair. He looked ready to kill a man and make it look like an accident. Haran looked at the battalion and then at the girls as Korkie kept fuming at the idea of knowing Crosshair. He sighed as he knew he had to ask.

“I take it, you might know Crosshair?” Haran sheepishly asked.

“Oh, I know of him,” Korkie seethed. “It’s just that he’s the clone I was asking about.”

“Now why would you ask about him? He’s not well known to many people, even clones to be honest, since he’s a Commando and those guys mostly work with other Commandos.”

“The reason I’m asking is because I need to know how in the world Crosshair knows Kalevalan Mando’a and if it was taught to each clone unit.”

Haran looked at TikTok for answers. TikTok knew a bunch of clones who knew multiple languages, but he had no answer for how Crosshair knew the dialect. No one in the battalion knew how to speak the dialect and he never heard a clone knowing the dialect.

“Well, that’s the first problem,” TikTok said. “None of us knows how to speak the Kalevalan dialect, and even if we want to, if only after we leave Kamino.”

“After you leave Kamino?” Korkie contemplated. “So, that would mean Crosshair might have learned the dialect during war, but that can’t explain why he’s fluent and can act like a local in Kalevala.”

“Well, he might have also done it in secret,” Haran added. “We actually don’t know much about Crosshair or Clone Force 99 when they were cadets. Nala Se, Kamino’s chief scientist, had them all isolated from the rest of us because they were Kamino’s experimental unit.”

Korkie looked back to the girls and Rana for guidance, but even they don’t know how to react to the knowledge. They’d usually know anything about any Mandalorian or some clan secret, but with the majority of Mandalore agreeing that the clones' ties to their Mandalorian heritage was shaky at best, it wasn’t in their priority until Crosshair. Rana mouths an apology to Korkie as he sighed his annoyance for the Empire and Crosshair.

“And it just keeps getting worse,” Korkie groaned. “Crosshair is coming here in a few weeks and I don’t have anything that can keep him from ruining my life more than it already has.”

“Wait, what do you mean that man is coming here?” Haran asked

“I don’t blame any of you for not knowing anything political considering the situations, but the Empire has issued an ambassadorial order for Mandalore. In a few weeks, an ambassador is coming to Mandalore to check for insurgents after a few planets have already started calling out their displeasure of the Empire. Unfortunately, this ambassador has no love for our languages and so they had chosen Crosshair to be the translator because they forgot that we know Basic.”

“But any clone can be a translator!” Gar exclaimed.

“Yeah, about that. I had sent them a message in Kalevalan Mando’a after they sent the first message and Crosshair got the job since he knew Kalevalan Mando’a . Truth be told, I never expected a clone to know Kalevalan Mando’a because your DNA comes from Concord Dawn, and well, Crosshair surprised everyone.”

The battalion looked at Korkie with worry, pity and sympathy. The Kaminoans had no love for the clones learning their Mandalorian heritage and that made them all the more eager to learn Mando’a and a few of the dialects. After they were sent off to other worlds during the war, the clones realized how free they were of the Kaminoans and started learning Mando’a . Some days, during their stays on other planets, and their Mando’a couldn’t reflect their feelings, they started to ask the locals for language lessons because they figured out that the local languages had several words for certain emotions. By the time other battalions met one another, they started learning that each battalion had their own version of Mando’a and showed it off as a badge of honor for learning other languages and incorporating them into sentences with mainstream Mando’a. 

Though, if one were to ask Haran and his battalion which clone unit had the most fluent members in Concordian and other forms of Mando’a , they would always say it was the 212th Attack Battalion. The late General Obi-Wan Kenobi was known for being rather fluent in Mando’a due to his past with Satine Kryze, and he had often wanted his men to be proud of their heritage. Considering Commander Cody was the one who introduced the 501st to Clone Force 99, and therefore Crosshair, it made sense that any clone unit with close association to the 212th might know other languages.

“Duke Korkie,” Haran said. “Sorry for the title and the lack of information, but if there is anything else we can help, we will try.”

Korkie looked at Haran and his battalion. He wanted to know more about Crosshair, but Haran and his men had already given him enough. Also, considering how poor Crosshair looked in the message, he had every right to worry that Haran and the rest would get horrible punishments for just being good men. He preferred the men live another day and show Mandalore that they too are the victims and not their enemies.

“No need,” Korkie said. “I think I asked enough. I don’t want you to be in trouble with your superiors considering the already volatile circumstances between Mandalore and the Empire. Besides, you gave me enough idea of who Crosshair is. I hope when he comes he doesn’t cause you trouble.”

“Considering what happened to Kamino,” TikTok mused. “Crosshair would probably not cause much trouble.”

“What happened to Kamino? I haven’t gotten any news about Kamino.”

“Well, let’s just say, we might never leave this place,” Haran said. “The Empire deemed the Kaminoans as traitors, and ordered every facility on Kamino to be destroyed. Everything in Kamino had been through orbital bombardment. We have no home anymore.”

Korkie, Rana and the girls gasped at the information. Suddenly, the true extent of the ambassadorial order had been realized. War was coming back to Mandalore, and there can only be one winner over all.

Chapter Text

It took Korkie a minute to finally get off his daze from the news. When he did, he looked at the battalion with teary eyes. He looked back at his entourage as they pulled up a few pouches filled with credits. The girls never cared for materialistic items that weren’t made with love, and they had too much money every time they went out. 

“You don’t have to give us money,” Haran said.

“Have you been eating well then?” Alia asked. “With actual food and not rations?”

“No, but that’s too much for us.”

“We don’t need this much credit,” Moria said. “We never even use them.”

“Besides,” Rana said. “We have enough credits to live a full life. Something you don’t have.”

Haran said nothing as the battalion was given enough credits to have a feast for months. He looked at them with bright eyes and a sad smile. It’s true the men had enough rations to live off of until they had to call for more from the Empire, but his men were also afraid that they might run out of rations and no one would help them. After hearing the destruction of Kamino from other clone units that had messaged them, Haran was almost ready to have a meltdown in front of every one of his brothers, but he kept his composure for their sake. It has been such a long time since he was given such kindness and grace.

“I will do my best to use this well,” Haran thanked. “This has been the first time in a long time that any Mandalorian has given my battalion such hope for a kinder future.”

“I’m sorry that no one has been able to be kind to you,” Hile mumbled. “We’re usually gracious to other warriors and protectors.”

“No one has seen us as protectors,” TikTok replied. “They see us as oppressors, and nothing more.”

“But you were ordered to do this!” Iki cried. “It’s not fair for you and everyone else just because you’re doing your duties. Death Watch listened to every order Maul had them do and we still welcomed their families back to society.”

“We’re clones, Iki,” Gar said. “We’re not natborns and we never were raised in the Mandalorian ways, but it’s fine. We have our brothers, and no one can tell us that we have nothing when we have them.”

“But–”

“Iki, please.”

Iki looked as if she would cry a river so great, it would finally give back Mandalore its lush green land again. It broke Korkie and the girls’ hearts seeing their surrogate sister bothered by something she could help ease. She might have been the youngest of Korkie’s entourage, but there was a reason Korkie had her as a lady-in-waiting. 

All of Korkie’s entourage, sans Rana, were scandalous daughters. They were either daughters born from affairs, lost their mothers through childbirth, or were born with defects. Rana was the one who created the idea of having the girls be part of Korkie’s entourage as she wanted Korkie to have a close group of friends who would understand his hatred of Mandalore's issues with ‘problem’ children. Korkie begged Satine to agree to Rana’s request because it hurt him to live a lie when all he ever wanted was for him to be recognized as her son.

Satine’s heart broke again the day she agreed.

The day he met all his ladies-in-waiting was one of the best days of his life. He finally had people to understand him and his problem with his illegitimacy. From Day One, the girls and Korkie became inseparable, and they always had close communication despite the girls staying in Kalevala and Korkie going to the Academy. As gifts, Korkie gave them better access to Mandalorian politics and political education that only their relatives could dream of. Then again, Korkie wanted them to also be able to compete with their family members on equal ground since he hated how the girls were mistreated by members of their family. 

And Iki? Well, Korkie made sure she can always find a way to win against her father’s side of the family. He never liked how her cousins would pick on her for being born a maid’s child, and he and the rest of the girls had always banded together to protect her from them.

“Iki,” Korkie said as he placed a calm hand on her shoulder. “It’ll be okay.”

“But they won’t let us be kind to them despite the facts.”

“Well, they can’t necessarily order a duke to not do things.”

Korkie looked at the man with a smug grin. Haran groaned as he knew where this was coming. He had worked with some higher ups who used their rank to tell him to accept help, and by the happy grin and glowing, predatory eyes Korkie was making, he was going to pull nobility rank to help Haran and the men.

“Lieutenant Haran,” Korkie said. “I understand what you mean, but I’ve lived through a hundred lies. I know you can’t disobey orders, but I also know that you don’t deserve the hatred thrown at you. So please, for everyone’s sake here, let us treat you and the men as equals. You’re more than what the Empire forces you to be.”

Korkie gave them further pouches of money and bowed to them in respect. He made his leave as Rana and the girls followed suit despite Haran and the men calling for them to take back the money. Korkie didn’t care that he gave them a ton of credits, he had more riches than anyone in the Mandalorian System. He could probably give Haran his yearly allowance and he’d still be rich enough to buy an army.

“You know,” Alia said. “Haran might ban you from the border.”

“Can he though?” Korkie asked.

“You gave him your weekly allowance,” Hile said. 

“Be glad it wasn’t my entire inheritance. He’d faint and then try to call every clone to spend it all.”

“You have enough riches to buy a galaxy’s entire army. And their weapons and starships.”

“And the galaxy itself,” Moria points out. “If Mandalore was for sale, you’d buy it and you’d still have money left for raising a family.”

“Generational wealth from Grandmother Adenn’s family was not what I was expecting. I mean, I get she was the eldest granddaughter, and I was born on her birth planet, but I did not think I’d get that much.”

“Says the current Sith Lord of the Obscure System,” Rana reminded him. “You were given those inheritance because sooner or later, you might as well choose the planet of your Sith ancestors over the planet of your Mandalorian ancestors.”

“By that time, I might not be a Kryze anymore.”

“Then who will you be?”

Korkie stopped walking. They stopped in front of the boutique to get Korkie’s dress back. Korkie looked back at them as he opened the door. He smiled as he pondered the question.

“I don’t know,” Korkie said as they entered. “I never had much of a thought.”

But, you already have a title? Daya signed.

“True, but I’m not running the planet, I’m just running.”

As the group was greeted by Orai, Korkie looked at the rest of the boutique. Amour, jewelry, dresses, and disguised weapons littered the place as Korkie waited for his dress. He sighed as he wondered why Mandalore can’t just be like the boutique. He knows peace and prosperity can be obtained while still keeping the traditions that kept Mandalore safe from its enemies, but everywhere he looks outside his room and outside the palace he calls home, he sees destruction and hatred and division. 

“And for what?” he whispered. 

None of the girls heard him as they looked through the dresses, so keeps walking along the boutique. He sees a pair of dark red high-heeled boots and walks towards them. He takes a closer look and sees that they’re the perfect size for him. He does like the combative style it has, and the color would match the mourning clothes he was making. Maybe he can ask for a test run?

“Not again,” Moria groaned.

Korkie jumped as Moria, Daya and Hile gave him a stink eye. Alia and Iki were looking more concerned as Rana looked ready to pray to the Force to stop his idea.

“What?” Korkie snorted. “I think we all know that I have a fondness for boots.”

“But you hate high-heels?” Hile reminded him.

“But I haven’t been taught how to make boots? I don’t know, these boots look nice, and they’re the color I want.”

“Korkie,” Alia said. “We understand the need to one up Crosshair, but if you fall…”

“Nevermind.”

The thought of him falling in front of Crosshair made Korkie’s spine curl. That or his tail needed to be let out.

Are you kidding us? Daya sighed. That’s what changed your mind?

“Daya,” Korkie apologized. “I want him to kneel. Not to laugh at my attempts to look intimidating, and falling would destroy every horrified idea he would have of me.”

“Not to mention what would happen if you fell on top of him,” Rana said.

At that moment, Korkie lost control of his abilities and let out his tail and claws. The girls gasped as they tried to help Korkie disguise himself before anyone saw the tail. After calming down, Korkie was able to hide his tail and claws as Orai approached them with the dress.

“Sorry if I took too long,” Orai said. “I placed the dress in the dry cleaning and well, it’s not the only black and silver dress.”

“I’m not surprised,” Korkie said. “Those colors are quite popular for any occasion.”

“But yours is a mourning outfit. So, I should not have taken that long.”

“Maybe, but it did give me some time to look at these boots.”

Orai looked over Korkie and the girls to see what they meant. Red high-heeled boots. In a style popular for warriors to wear outside of battle and have a night with friends. 

“I see what you mean,” Orai nodded. “Did you try them? I mean if you’re the one who wants to wear them.”

“I like the style,” Korkie agreed. “But, I have to pass. I’m rather clumsy on high-heels and there’s an ambassador coming here with an important translator.”

“You don’t want to slip and fall on them, do you?”

Korkie and the girls nodded. 

“I could modify them. They’ll still have heels, but not enough to make a person fall.”

Korkie’s eyes lit up and he smiled. Moria, Hile and Daya looked at each other as they knew what that meant. Alia held her laugh as Iki looked back at the boots and at Korkie. 

“May I please?” Korkie asked them with a huge smile. He was close to jumping and begging.

Rana sighed in defeat and nodded to her friend to modify the boots after they paid.

“Great,” Orai said. “And don’t worry, they’ll look fine with any clothes he wears.”

“He’s wanting to scare the translator,” Moria explained. “And with a red and black dress to boot. No pun intended.”

“Considering the secret mission you all took, I assume it was successful and Korkie got to know him more?”

“I wish I hadn’t,” Korkie grumbled as he went to find a changing room.

Alia and Rana looked at each other as Korkie entered one of the rooms. They thought they saw a huge sneer as he talked and his gait was quite pouty. Almost as if he didn’t want to talk about Crosshair until the clone had made another message. 

“That boy is not happy,” Hile smirked. “Actually, that’s the first time I’ve ever seen Korkie get mad at one person for more than a day.”

“He never gets mad at my cousins for that long,” Iki added. “I mean, even when they tease me or something, Korkie always stays calm and only hates them for a minute because he said doesn’t care for them.”

“Well,” Orai said. “You did say this guy is staying in Mandalore for who knows how long, and Korkie was Satine’s heir and Mandalore’s heir, so maybe he’s getting territorial?”

“For one clone?” Rana asked. “That clone is nothing compared to Korkie in the political and royal sense. Jango Fett only had one child as an heir and we all heard that the child chose to be a bounty hunter.”

“But read the air, Rana. The Empire is not backing down, and Mandalore is in the crosshairs. He’s not done mourning and suddenly, there’s someone about to take his home again?”

As Orai and Rana were talking, Korkie sighed in defeat of what was truly happening to his home. Orai was right, his home was in the crosshairs of a power hungry mad man and Korkie was done with these Siths for taking everything from him. They already took his mother and his bright future away, they weren’t going to take his home too. The Empire can send a thousand ships to guard Mandalore and Korkie would always find a way to fight them for the sake of his home.

Korkie looked at the mirror in front of him as he slowly and carefully placed every seam and accessory on him. He wished his mother was still here to tell him he was doing everything right, but all he can do is to look presentable to Rana and the girls. As wore his mother’s circelet, Korkie took one last sigh as he smooths out the seams for the hundredth time in a row. He went back out to his group and smiled.

“I’m pretty sure I did something wrong,” Korkie admitted. “I think it’s just on the back though.”

“At least it’s not the front,” Rana said. “The back can easily be hidden by a cloak.”

“Or a shawl if you want,” Orai added. “I have a silver one that would look great on you.”

Korkie nodded in appreciation, but declined the shawl. He had to get used to wearing his mother’s dress the way she had done so all those years ago. If it meant he had to learn how to tie the strings in the back, then he would learn. If it meant learning where each accessory went on him, then he’d write down where each item went. If it meant making sure he looked like Satine despite the clear differences, then he’ll just have to figure that out too.

“Nanny Rana,” Korkie called. “Do you think it is time to go back? We’ve gotten the answers we needed.”

“I suppose so if you want,” Rana said.

“I just want to process things right now. Not just on Crosshair, but on my mourning clothes. I think it’s high time I get to finishing that thing.”

Rana took one more glance at Orai and nodded to him. Orai smiled and nodded back as he watched the entourage leave his business. He too would start to prepare the boots Korkie asked for the instant they left his field of vision. He hoped by the time the Empire came to Mandalore, he’d already be seeing Korkie run around Sundari wearing the red boots he was gifted.

He just hoped the boots wouldn’t be ruined in one day.

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So, it's been a long time. I just want to say that while I still love my crazy crack ship between Korkie and Crosshair, I don't think I can sustain this as much unless you just want me to. My idea of their relationship hasn't changed much. I do want them to be a loving couple, but after the finale of the Bad Batch and all, I think I want to redo the story or make a new one, because as much as I love Sith Lord Korkie, I feel like him just being a secretive Force user with no Sith bloodline fits more, and his relationship with Crosshair would just be them without a ton of people helping their relationship blossom. And that was my first writing about their relationship on Tumblr, back when I was doing a writing countdown to the series premiere of The Bad Batch. I want to try doing that with them again. Just mostly them, there are still some issues with Korkie's family that kick off the story, but it's just them. Unknown when, I am busy with college life, I'm trying to get my Master's degree, but I want to rewrite them again.

Still, if you want me to finish this, just comment. I could duel writing Korkie and Crosshair. I love this extremely cracked ship that would never exist outside of fanfics. See you!