tell me everything you can about the jaster/feemor fic 👀
Oh, I was hoping someone would ask me about this one *rubs hands gleefully*
So my vague thoughts about the Mandalorian mission landed on: what if instead of Qui Gon and Obi Wan someone went undercover among the New Mandalorians? But why would the Jedi Council do that instead? Oh…what if Jaster survived Korda 6 – then it’s not a simpler choice between terrorist group or other. And wOuLd’Nt It Be FuNnY if Jaster had a terrible crush on a ‘New Mandalorian’ bodyguard 😉
I have long had the headcanon that Mace is a night owl, not an morning lark. Jedi Council meetings Do Not support this.
Mace nursed his third cup of caff as dawn’s rays crept into the Council chambers specifically to lay siege upon his eyeballs. Whichever old Jedi said dawn was wiser than dusk ought’ve kept that thought to themselves. Truly, he loved being a Jedi – except this part. Dawn was too sleep-addled to be wise. He had, upon being ‘promoted’ to the Council, advocated for crack of noon meetings instead.
Which had failed seven to five. Yoda and Dooku were traitors.
“Petitioned for Republic aid, Mandalore has,” Yoda said. Just as Mace took a sip, the old troll. Used to dramatic announcements while drinking, Mace didn’t inhale his caff. Shaak Ti, their newest member, had yet to manage their grandmaster’s particular proclivity and choked on her tea. As well she should. The words ‘Mandalore’ and ‘Petition for Republic aid’ had never, in all the galaxy’s history, been in the same sentence unless another planet or people and the word ‘against’ were involved. Tera Sinube and Jocasta Nu cleared out their ears, certain they hadn’t heard correctly. To counter the disbelief that reverberated like an opera singer‘s, Yoda projected the petition for all Council members to see.
Which, yes, that was Mandalore. The planet name. On a petition for Jedi assistance. Mace had fallen asleep in a Council Meeting again. “Somewhere the Sith Hells are building an ice-skating rink,” Oppo remarked.
One of those weird shared dreams.
Tera Sinube snickered, then frowned. “Duke Kryze?” the old Crechemaster tapped his cane in thought. “I was unaware Mandalore has united under a single leader.”
“It certainly hasn’t,” Jocasta Nu straightened, a lecture at the ready. Mace would dream of many things but not one of Jocasta’s lectures. “A terrorist leader claims to be the ruler as well.” The worst ones always did. “By way of the Darksaber,” she added with an edge. Few were the successful robberies of the archives. Mace pitied the terrorist Mandalore-claimer. “And,” her voice dripped with disgust. “Jaster Mereel.”
Mace had no idea what Jaster Mereel had done to earn greater ire than a thief of an archive artifact but Dooku, closer to her, was up on the latest gossip. “Pestering you with more requests?” he smirked.
“Three leaders at least then, yet only one asks,” Yoda commented.
And there lay the complication. “Do we have the right to interfere then?” Shaak Ti asked the needed question. “Mandalore has not joined the Republic nor agreed to its laws and if we become the sort of people who burst into everyone’s home to lay down our chosen law – where will we stop.”
“As a student of history, we wouldn’t,” Jocasta said.
“Contentious, Mandalorians and Jedi have been,” Yoda spoke with hard-earned experience. “Harm not the unarmed, our code says. Accept the surrender of all, our oaths demand. Yet never unarmed the Mandalorians are. Surrender, dishonorable is seen.”
Add in intermittent conquests and bouts of Jedi-hunting and you had the seed of every Jedi-Mandalorian conflict in their shared history, Mace thought. “A shatterpoint looms over this mission, I sense that well enough. Should we break it? Mandalore’s fate will be decided on this mission, whether we take it or not. And if we do take it, who would we begin to send?” The experts of Mandalor were few and far between and many would be obviously unwise to send there.
“That sounds like a political travesty,” Dooku said, “Requiring a skilled negotiator. I would recommend my own Padawan. Qui Gon Jinn has made Master.”
“I disagree,” Yaddle spoke up at last.
A flicker of gobsmacked rippled through the Force before Dooku’s face and presence settled to forbidding impassivity. This did nothing to deter someone who had leapt straight from Padawan to Master centuries ago. “Shaak Ti is right, and Grandmaster Yoda speaks wisdom,” Yaddle paused, an unspoken ‘for once’ lingered teasingly. “Three rulers at least and no simple choice, previous Jedi-Mandalorian conflicts aside even the best diplomat would struggle not to add further conflict to such a mess. We can act but should not act openly.”
“You suggest the Shadows,” Councilor Piell stated the obvious. “One of your undercover agents.”
Yaddle gave Yarael the same look Mace often gave Depa for her teatime conversation topics but made no answer.
“Well, the poor soul will at least avoid Jaster’s obsession – if they keep their cover,” Jocasta said.
“There is one minor problem. About going undercover,” Tera Sinube brought up a picture. “Death Watch would be difficult but nothing your Shadows couldn’t handle. Jaster Mereel’s supercommandoes will be easy enough to infiltrate, however may I present a general indication of Sundari’s population.”
The picture was nothing that wouldn’t be snagged off a public site. A random section of the city, clearly during rush hour traffic with all the people milling about everywhere – people who were all human, all blond-haired, all pale-eyed.
“All of them?”
“Do we have any Jedi who fit?” Jocasta asked. Mace nodded in agreement. He dimly remembered one Padawan who would fit but that would be an even worse idea than Dooku’s.
