Chapter Text
The newly crowned Prince Havish of Cardonia offers Rael a lazy grin as he sips the smoky scotch Rael had poured for each of them. His advisor, a severe woman who only ever has a frown for Rael, makes a small protesting sound as Prince Havish savors the drink. He better savor it, Rael thinks, as he takes a sip from his own glass. The scotch is older than Rael’s former Jedi master.
It was Yan who taught Rael how to appreciate fine liquor. Fine food, too. And clothes. Rael shifts slightly in his chair, which calls attention to the black pants he’s wearing. Rael wasn’t blessed with great height, not like Qui-Gon, who has decided it’s his role as Rael’s lineage brother to rub in the height difference every chance he gets. But Rael doesn’t need miles of leg in order to look like he has miles of leg.
Fashion isn’t a weapon most Jedi learn, but Rael did. He knows how to dress himself to avoid detection and how to dress himself when he wants all eyes on him. In the decadent study attached to Prince Havish’s new suite of rooms, Rael is only concerned with one person’s attention. And he has all of it.
Havish, who will be a better ruler than his brother would have been, looks at Rael’s boots, black and laced up to mid-calf, and then his gaze slides higher, over Rael’s knees, drags over muscled thighs and then…stalls out. Rael allows a smile of his own to cross his face. There’s another protest from the advisor, but Rael dismisses it.
She doesn’t approve of the scotch. She went so far as to try and claim it was a bribe earlier. Havish had laughed and Rael rolled his eyes for the prince’s benefit and then declared it a method of celebration for any who were wary of a Jedi that came bearing gifts and helped put a younger son in power.
One bottle of scotch isn’t a bribe, even if it’s a very good bottle. Rael has used bribes before, but he prefers something softer. Gifts. Expensive drinks to celebrate a partnership or a victory, rare cigars, small experiences, which can be easily dismissed. Another lesson Rael learned from Yan. His master is a skilled duelist and a skilled diplomat, and Rael learned them both. He, personally, is a better diplomat.
He'd rather make love than war, as he once told the Council after one of his early knight missions. Yoda had given Rael an indulgent smile. Several of the other Councilors were not nearly as amused.
Rael is seated in one of the gilded armchairs, with Prince Havish in a matching chair across from him. They’re not quite close enough to touch, but Rael leans forward as if he means to try. “I don’t think your advisor approves of me,” he whispers loudly.
Rael was sent to Cardonia to oversee (and ensure) Prince Havish’s coronation. He knows his role on missions like this. It isn’t enough to achieve his objective. He also needs to leave a positive impression of the Jedi and the Republic.
“She doesn’t approve of much,” Prince Havish says in the same, equally loud whisper.
“The gift giving policy,” the advisor begins, apparently unable to keep her objections in any longer.
“Ah,” Rael interrupts. He looks at the bottle of scotch. He even gives a little sigh. “Perhaps, instead of giving, I could receive?” He flicks a look at Prince Havish through his lashes. They’re long and dark. He knows what he looks like.
“You’re dismissed Berea,” Prince Havish says. He doesn’t look at his advisor or acknowledge her spluttering. He takes another sip of his scotch and then he beckons Rael forward until Rael is straddling his lap and close enough to kiss.
#
Rael follows up a spectacular night of sex with an equally spectacular morning. He is sore and sated, and he doesn’t bother releasing any of it to the Force. He wants to enjoy the feeling for as long as it lasts.
He says his goodbyes to Prince Havish and his new government and then goes to his ship. His ship’s comm console has several messages waiting for him. None of them are urgent or concerning at first glance, but there is one from a Jedi Knight Windu that catches his attention. He remembers Mace Windu as a padawan. He’s over twenty years Rael’s junior, and far too serious for his age.
He must have been knighted recently. Rael should do a better job at checking the updates which come from the Council on a semi-regular basis. He thinks Qui-Gon mentioned Mace Windu more than once. Another padawan who was unofficially trained by Yoda to finish out their apprenticeship.
Knight Windu has requested Rael return to the Coruscant Temple to help mediate an issue that has arisen within his lineage. It’s a puzzling message, and Rael sets course for Coruscant. He isn’t surprised there’s an issue, because his lineage always seems to have one fight or another going on. Yoda is centuries old and yet never forgets a thing, which makes Yan bristle when Yoda reminds everyone that Yan was once a child, prone to mistakes, instead of a distinguished Jedi master. Qui-Gon, of course, searches for as many of these stories as he can find, eager for proof that their master isn’t as austere or perfect as he presents.
Rael thought they were in for a period of peace after Qui-Gon was knighted and left to cause trouble that wouldn’t so obviously reflect on Yan. But Yan’s pride was stung by Yoda’s interference in the end of Qui-Gon’s apprenticeship. It didn’t help that in a rare moment of shocking cruelty, Qui-Gon presented his padawan braid to Yoda, not Yan. And so, only two years after unleashing Qui-Gon Jinn on the galaxy, Dooku took another padawan.
Having learned his lesson, Rael has stayed away from Coruscant. As such, he hasn’t met his lineage sister yet. He knows her name, Komari Vosa. He does some quick math. She’ll be sixteen now. He figures that’s definitely the right age to be causing trouble. He considers messaging Knight Windu for details, to figure out what exactly it is he’s walking into, but instead he asks for Windu to meet his ship when he lands. He knows his lineage well enough that he doesn’t want any details written down.
#
Knight Windu is a tall, dark-skinned humanoid with no hair on his head, except for a pair of dark brows that pull together in a severe frown. Rael has a hard time believing that this man is actually a kid, only a year out from being knighted. He holds himself like he’s forty. His frown deepens as if he can pick up on Rael’s thoughts.
“Welcome back to the temple, Knight Averross,” Windu says.
“No need for formality. You can call me Rael.”
Windu winces as if it pains him, but he gives a stiff nod. “As you wish, Rael. Would you accompany me to my quarters for a cup of tea?”
Rael enjoyed a luxurious shower in Prince Havish’s suite before leaving Cardonia, and it wasn’t a long flight, so he doesn’t need to freshen up. It has, however, been almost a year since he was last at the temple. He wouldn’t mind stopping by his own quarters, but Knight Windu must be aware of that. Which means, he wants to speak with Rael privately.
“A little directness wouldn’t go amiss,” Rael says.
Windu’s eyebrows twitch. Rael swears he hears teeth grinding before Windu says, “In that case, flip your hood up. I’d prefer your presence go unnoticed.”
Well. Rael did ask for direct. He grins as he pulls his hood up, curious what Windu’s play is. Windu brings him into the temple through one of the lesser-known entrances. It’s all back hallways and low traffic areas until they reach the knight’s wing.
Rael can’t help his surprise when Windu brings him to one of the private quarters, usually reserved for older knights.
Windu waits until they’re inside with the door shut to speak. “There were complaints about my irregular schedule. No knight wanted to share quarters with me.”
“That’s one strategy, I guess,” Rael says. He looks around, but the quarters are for a single knight, which means they’re small. They aren’t personalized, either, but Rael isn’t sure if that’s because Windu’s only recently come to occupy them or if that was a choice as well.
As promised, Windu goes to the kitchenette and uses one of the two stovetops to put on a kettle.
This isn’t the first time Rael’s been invited back to someone’s rooms, but he suspects Windu isn’t interested in any extracurriculars. Given that Rael just saw his forty-fifth lifeday, thinking about sex with a twenty-something makes his knees hurt. And his back hurt. He doesn’t know how Nico Diath does it. He regularly beds sentients half his age. Of course, Nico isn’t particular in his bed partners, which Rael knows since Yan used to be one of his regulars. And once, on a memorable occasion, so was Rael.
“Congratulations on your knighthood,” Rael says, because it’s obvious Windu isn’t going to bring up why he brought Rael here until they each have a cup of tea in their hands.
“Thank you. Your mission report says Cardonia was a success.”
“It was.” Rael can’t help but look Windu over again, now that he has a new clue. A fresh knight who keeps such irregular hours no one else will room with him, who feels he has the authority to summon Rael back to Coruscant, and apparently reads mission reports as soon as they’re filed. “You’re too young to be locked in the Council Chambers for the rest of your life.”
Rather than flushing at the compliment or bristling at the perceived slight, Windu meets Rael’s gaze head-on. “So we should leave the running of the Order to our elders? With age comes experience but also a certain reluctance for change and a difficulty in seeing that there are different paths.”
“You’re a reformist?” Rael asks. He’s a little surprised Windu is so forthcoming. It isn’t as though it’s a secret that Rael’s grandmaster is Yoda, who also serves as Grandmaster for the entire Order. Of course, it also isn’t a secret that Rael’s lineage hasn’t always agreed with the Council.
It was early in Yan’s apprenticeship that Sifo-Dyas’s vision was dismissed and thousands died when the forewarning could have led to an evacuation. Yan told Rael the story in his first year as a padawan. It was to caution Rael against believing in the infallibility of either the Jedi or the Republic. Yan promised he would train Rael to assess situations and make decisions for himself, rather than relying on orders from a governing body.
And Qui-Gon…well, he’s developed quite the reputation for himself. The maverick Jedi. Of course, if you ask Qui-Gon, he’ll tell you he’s a pure expression of the Order’s philosophy, a Jedi who follows the will of the Force above all.
Is it any wonder that Rael spends most of his time in the Mid Rim?
“The right direction for the Jedi a thousand years ago is not necessarily the right direction for them today,” Windu answers. “The right direction for the Jedi yesterday is not necessarily the right direction today. If we cannot adapt, we will die out. Already, if you look closely, you can see the Jedi Order fading.”
“Fading?” Rael shakes his head. Every cantina he visits, someone has a story about a Jedi. They aren’t always flattering, but Jedi are known from Bespin all the way to Hoth.
“Our numbers grow smaller,” Windu says, “and we’re blind to it.”
“Not you, apparently.” Despite not having received an invitation, Rael makes himself comfortable on Windu’s small, two-person couch. It isn’t nearly long enough for Windu to nap on, but the single chair has a lever that marks it as a recliner.
“I see Shatterpoints,” Windu says. The tea kettle whistles at him, and he obeys its call, fixing two cups of tea. “I can see where the Order is weakest, where the wrong kind of pressure will shatter us into thousands of pieces.” He joins Rael in the sitting area and hands Rael a cup of tea before he sits in the recliner.
“Is that why you’ve called me back here?” Rael asks.
Windu doesn’t answer. It’s a pointed silence. He sips his tea and then gives Rael an expectant look. Rael rolls his eyes but sips his tea as well, bland and boring, before it’s his turn for significant eye contact.
“My first assignment as a knight is to sit on the Council of Reassignment,” Windu says. “Two days ago, Yan Dooku submitted a formal Request to Reassign.”
Rael startles at that and hot tea spills over the edges of the cup. He sets it down on the low table before he can dump the whole thing in his lap. “What?”
Normally, a padawan’s training is only completed by another master if their original master dies or can’t complete their training. He would have heard if something had happened to Yan. Which means, for some reason, Yan doesn’t believe he can teach Komari to be a Jedi. The reason it’s so rare, is that a request like this almost aways leads to an ejection from the Order. Because if a master who knows a padawan well doesn’t believe they can be a Jedi, few other masters or knights will dare train them.
“Did he give a reason?” Rael asks.
“I cannot divulge that information,” Windu says. “But Master Dooku is in residence. You could ask him yourself.”
“I’m surprised Yoda hasn’t already offered to train her,” Rael says. “He stepped in with Qui-Gon, you know. He didn’t think Yan’s training would allow Qui-Gon to reach his fullest potential.” What a clusterfuck. Yan’s pride was hurt at Yoda thinking he couldn’t train his own apprentice and Qui-Gon’s pride was overinflated, being singled-out by Yoda like that.
“Did you call Qui-Gon back to the temple too?” Rael asks. He knows now why Windu wants him here. On the rare occasions a Request for Reassignment is made, the Council always looks to the lineage first, to try and keep the padawan connected to their support network. He’s entirely certain Yan would leave the Order if Yoda tried to take another padawan from him, even if he’s apparently giving up on Komari. And Qui-Gon…it’s only been three years since Qui-Gon put his own padawan forward for knighthood and lost him to riots on Telos IV.
Which leaves Rael. He’s never raised a padawan before. He’s never had any interest in it. He knows what they whisper about him, or outright say to his face. He isn’t a model Jedi, let alone a role model. But, just because he’s the best of a bunch of bad options, doesn’t mean this is a good idea.
“I don’t think Qui-Gon would understand Padawan Vosa’s situation,” Windu says. “But he mentioned to me, once or twice, that you might be able to relate to her.”
Rael’s eyebrows climb upward at that cryptic banthashit, but Windu doesn’t elaborate. Rael sighs. “Fine. Permission to leave and sort out this mess?”
“It would be polite to finish your tea first,” Windu says.
Rael sets his cup in front of Windu and then walks out. He can feel Windu’s amusement trail him almost halfway down the corridor. Kid’s going to make a damned good councilor one day, Rael thinks.
#
Rael breaks one of the unofficial rules of his padawanship and arrives at Yan’s quarters without an invitation or even a polite heads-up. He can feel Yan’s curiosity through the door and then his faint irritation before the door slides open and reveals Rael’s former master.
Yan is in his sixties now, but he’s a Jedi who has lived an active, attentive life, which is to say, he isn’t old. His black hair, which has always been a vanity of his, has started to go gray, but it somehow only lends him a distinguished air. He is dressed impeccably, despite being in his quarters with only himself for company.
He regards Rael for a long moment, as if considering whether or not he intends to let him in.
“You want privacy for this conversation,” Rael promises.
Yan presses his lips into a thin line, but he steps aside so Rael can enter. Rael, out of habit, casts his senses over Yan’s quarters. The door to Komari’s room is closed, but Rael doesn’t sense her inside. In fact, except for a few lingering traces, he doesn’t sense her in these quarters at all.
“Where’s your padawan?” Rael asks once the main door slides shut around him. Normally, he indulges in Yan’s enjoyment of small talk and other social niceties. But Rael doesn’t have the patience for it today, and he doesn’t know how long Komari has before her fate is decided.
“She’s staying with Jocasta,” Yan says. He looks weary, and the bags under his eyes highlight the wrinkles framing them and now, he looks old. As if the reminder of his padawan and whatever troubles they’re having are enough to sap the vitality from him.
“Does Jocasta intend to take over her apprenticeship?” Rael asks.
Yan doesn’t ask how Rael found out. He simply sighs and gestures to the sitting area. There are three armchairs and a couch to choose from. The couch and one of the armchairs are new since Rael’s apprenticeship, but they aren’t recent. The couch was an addition after Yan took Qui-Gon as an apprentice, because Qui-Gon is freakishly large and needed not only an extra-long but extra-wide piece of furniture to accommodate all of him.
The third armchair is new to Rael. He touches it, briefly, even though he doesn’t need to. It’s obvious this was chosen by Komari. It’s plush, velvet with intricate wood carvings on the armrests. Rael traces his fingers over one of the designs, and he can feel how Komari must have done the same.
“This is Serenno in make,” Rael comments.
Yan’s lips thin out even further. Curious, Rael thinks, that Yan isn’t pleased at the addition of something from his home world. His feelings toward Serenno are complicated, Rael knows, but mostly because of his father. The planet itself is where he’s from, and he always has at least a subtle nod to his origins on or around him.
“Are you going to say anything?” Rael asks.
“I cannot complete her training,” Yan says. “I—” he takes an uncharacteristic moment to gather himself. “I have meditated on it. I have spoken at length with Jocasta and Sifo-Dyas. This is a failure, but I am not ashamed of it. It is the correct and necessary choice.”
“What happened?” Rael asks. He got himself into his own share of messes that Yan had to dig him out of, including the time he accidently insulted a planetary leader’s firstborn daughter and almost caused a blood grudge between the people of Nimooona and the Jedi Order. And Force knows Qui-Gon’s apprenticeship was a series of battles that still seem to be fought between master and former apprentice.
For a moment, Rael wonders why Windu didn’t call Qui-Gon back to the temple. The two of them are friends, aren’t they? And maybe that’s the answer. Windu knows Qui-Gon too well to expect him to help here.
Rael is being unfair. Qui-Gon is…struggling. It’s only been a few years since Xanatos died on Telos IV. Qui-Gon is recovering. Though, his recovery seems to involve a lot of long-term missions with Master Tahl. Is someone monitoring that situation? They should. Emotional attachment in the wake of loss isn’t uncommon.
“I spoke to you of my concerns with Komari a few years ago,” Yan says.
“Her attachment to you. Has it…continued to develop?”
Yan looks away, and Rael feels something uncomfortable lodge in the pit of his stomach. He thinks he understands why Windu contacted him now. And, he suspects, he knows what Qui-Gon told Windu that made Windu think he was a good person to handle this. Just because Rael asked Qui-Gon once if he ever thought about Yan in that way, Qui-Gon thought it was okay to blab to Windu.
“I met with the delegation from Serenno last week,” Yan says. He stares at a point above the door. His hands are clasped behind his back. “Those meetings are always fraught.”
Rael nods. He remembers from his own padawanship. Yan would be out late those nights. If Rael stayed up, he would see his master stumble back into their quarters, reeking of liquor. Jedi can filter out the effects of alcohol. It was one of the first skills Yan taught Rael. But he never used it when he met with the Serenno delegation. Or, worse, he did and simply drank so much it had an effect on him anyway.
“She was in my bed when I returned,” Yan says. “Unclothed.”
Rael has admitted to having a crush on Yan. He would say that all padawans have a crush on their masters at some point, but he never acted on it. Sure, he might have acted like a fool once or twice, especially the first few mornings he found Nico Diath at the table looking pleased and well-fucked, but he never made any kind of overture toward Yan.
“I commed Jocasta immediately,” Yan says, still speaking to the spot above the door. “But this was an escalation in behavior I had sought to curb. I clearly did not succeed in my efforts and, as much as it pains me to admit it, I cannot continue her training.”
“I understand,” Rael says. He also knows that Yan will never breathe a word of this outside the Council of Reassignment and apparently Jocasta Nu. It will protect Komari in some ways. The blame for her failed apprenticeship will rest on Yan’s shoulders. How many Jedi think him proud? How many will quietly nod to themselves at his failure to see her to knighthood? Especially on the heels of Qui-Gon’s training being completed by Yoda? Unofficially, of course, but everyone knows it.
Rael is the only padawan Yan has raised to knighthood, and there are enough rumors and whispers around Rael that he isn’t exactly seen as a success. Rael sees the curve of Yan’s back, as if there is a weight too heavy for him to carry on his shoulders. He wants to touch Yan’s shoulder, off him comfort, but he knows it wouldn’t be welcome. He offers comfort through the Force, instead.
“They will look to her lineage first,” Rael says.
“I would not ask this of you,” Yan says, and he finally looks away from the spot above the door to look at Rael. “My failures are not yours to clean-up.”
“You didn’t ask me,” Rael points out. “If I hadn’t returned to the temple after my latest mission, I wouldn’t have known about this until it was over. You have not pressured me in any way. I have never raised a padawan before. I’m forty-five now. I was beginning to think I wouldn’t raise a padawan. I may not succeed with Komari, but I will try.” Rael hesitates a moment before he adds, “I can give her perspective I doubt anyone else can.”
It would be him or Qui-Gon, the only others who can relate to being Yan Dooku’s padawan. And, as Qui-Gon made abundantly clear the night Rael admitted to finding Yan attractive, Qui-Gon has never thought of Yan in that way.
Yan looks away from Rael for a moment before his gaze returns. “The situations are not the same.”
“They aren’t,” Rael agreed. He knew Yan was aware of his attraction, their close proximity and their mental bond made it impossible to hide, but Yan respected Rael’s complicated teenage feelings by not mentioning it and Rael respected Yan’s position as his Jedi master by never acting on it. “Which is why I can give her perspective. As I said, I may not succeed, but with your blessing, I will try.”
“You have it,” Yan promises, no hesitation. “But I am not sure how much support I will be able to offer. After the bond is formally dissolved, I intend to be away from the temple for an extended mission rotation.”
“You can support me without being at my side,” Rael says. He touches the lingering bond between them for proof. “I will speak to the Council of Reassignment. If they allow me to train Komari and if she agrees to my teaching, I would like to talk to you about her training before you leave.”
“Of course.” Yan hesitates a moment before he rests a hand on Rael’s shoulder. “You are a good Jedi, Rael.”
Rael covers Yan’s hand with his own. “I had a good teacher.”
#
Rael takes half a day to meditate on his decision, but when it’s over, he is confident he is making the right one. His next order of business is to go to the Archives. Madame Nu sits behind the circulation desk with her glum assistant next to her.
Komari is humanoid, and she has pale skin that is as pale as her hair. Her eyes are blue, striking, a flash of color. Her lips too, stand out. They’re thin, dark red, like a smear of blood across the bottom half of her face. Those lips curl into a snarl once Rael stops in front of the desk.
“Knight Averross,” Madame Nu greets warmly.
“Madame Nu,” Rael greets. He looks to Komari next. “Padawan Vosa.”
“Not for much longer,” Komari mutters.
“The Force works in mysterious ways,” Rael says, because he was raised by Yan Dooku which means, buried under etiquette lessons, he’s a bit of an asshole. “Would you like to join me for mid meal?”
“Why?” Komari demands, a challenge in the jut of her chin.
“Padawan,” Madame Nu hisses.
“It’s fine,” Rael says. Komari hasn’t behaved well, but he understands that it’s fear driving her now. Fear that she’s going to lose everything she’s ever known. Rael can’t give her everything she wants, but if she is willing, he can at least make sure she doesn’t lose the Jedi. “We’ll go out of temple. I just got back from a mission where I dined with royalty. I’m not eating in the commissary.”
“Did he train you to be a snob or were you born that way?” Komari asks, still hostile, but she unfolds herself from her chair, as if she intends to go with Rael.
Rael grins. “A little of both, probably.” He takes in her outfit, padawan tunics, and filters out the places they can go. None of his favorite places, but that’s fine. There’s a little café that does a fantastic spread of sandwiches and a decent bowl of soup. “Come on, then. I’m Rael Averross.”
“I know.” She slides over the top of the desk instead of walking around it. The challenging look she throws Madame Nu is met with a glare but no verbal reprimand. Rael escorts Komari out of the Archives before she provokes Madame Nu further.
It’s a reminder that she’s a sixteen-year-old girl, and Rael has a moment of doubt. What does he know about teenage girls? How is he supposed to guide her and train her? Is he going to give up before he even starts?
Komari crosses her arms over her chest and glares at him, coming to a stop right outside the Archives, as if she can sense his doubt. “Look, I’m grateful for the jailbreak, but I don’t need a babysitter.”
“I asked you to mid meal,” Rael says. “But good to know you’re supposed to remain under supervision.”
She scowls and scuffs the toe of her boot on the floor. “Why do you even care? You don’t know me.”
“That’s true,” Rael says. “I know of you, but I don’t know you. Which is why I’ve asked you to come with me. I’d like to talk to you. We can remain at the temple if you’d like, but I thought you might appreciate getting away for a bit.”
“Fine,” she says, as if she’s doing him a favor.
Are all teenagers this difficult, Rael wonders. Had he been this difficult at this age? If he was, he’s surprised Yan doesn’t have more gray hairs already.
#
Komari orders a BLT with extra bacon, a thick slice of cheese, and no lettuce. She stares Rael down as if she expects him to fight with her over eating her vegetables.
“The healers have all kinds of hypos for vitamin deficiencies,” Rael tells her, instead of engaging.
She orders a salad as her side. Rael orders himself half a sandwich, a bowl of soup and then, when he’s given the choice of bread, chips, or fruit, Komari looks pointedly at the array of fruit behind the counter.
He gets the fruit option.
Komari settles somewhat after having won a fight, which means she only bristles as they find a table to sit at. She still sits on the edge of her chair, as if she’s prepared to bolt at any moment.
“You have an accent,” Komari says as they wait for someone to deliver their food to their table. “Where are you from?”
“Ringo Vinda,” Rael answers. “Its biggest claim to fame is being on the Perlemian trade route. No one’s sure why the accent lingered. I came to the temple at age five.”
“That’s late,” Komari says.
“Yes and no,” Rael answers. “Those who are brought earlier tend to manifest their powers young and in a dangerous way, or they’re from planets who don’t like Force sensitives. I was an odd child, but it mostly went unremarked until a pair of Jedi showed up on Search. I was part of the Thranta Clan once I arrived at the temple. I first met Yan during lightsaber training.”
Komari goes still at the mention of their shared master. So far, she hasn’t named him, and Rael isn’t sure if it’s the right time for him to bring Yan up, but he knows they can’t avoid saying his name forever.
“It was a disaster at first,” Rael says. He laughs, even though he has to cast himself far back in his memories to recall. “He had the well-earned reputation as one of the most promising duelists in the Order. I think Yoda assigned him to beginner lessons as a lesson in pride. He made half the class cry on the first day.”
“Did you cry?” Komari asks.
“I kicked him in the shin,” Rael admits. “I told him Jedi were supposed to be patient and kind and he was a bully and then I kicked him. I’m pretty sure there’s an indent in his left leg from my foot. It wasn’t the only time I kicked him there.”
Komari, who had been opening up, scowls and crosses her arms over her chest. “You’re not going to turn me against him.”
“I’m not trying to.” Rael is grateful when a droid brings them their food, because it offers a brief interruption. “I wouldn’t be the Jedi I am without him, but he isn’t perfect.”
Komari breaks a piece of bacon off her sandwich. “I’m going to be tossed out of the Order.”
“You’re going to be brought before the Council of Reassignment,” Rael corrects, his tone gentle, but he doesn’t lie to her. There is no future where she remains as Yan’s padawan. “But there are options. You can remain a padawan.”
“Someone would have to want me.” She stabs her salad with her fork. She doesn’t bring any of the leaves to her mouth, just keeps stabbing.
“Yan wanted you as his padawan,” Rael says. Komari glares at her salad and Rael decides not to delve any deeper into that topic at the moment. “There are others who would complete your training, but only if you’re willing.”
Komari looks up from her lettuce massacre. “What do you mean?”
“A successful apprenticeship requires a willing teacher and a willing student,” Rael says. “You are angry, and I understand why, but if you want to be a Jedi, you’ll have to learn to release that anger.”
“I’m being rejected by my master,” Komari says. “Who would want a failed padawan?”
“You aren’t a failed padawan,” Rael says. He hesitates and then decides Komari is old enough for this truth. “And Yan’s last padawan had his training supplemented by Yoda. If anything, it is Yan’s teaching that will be called into question, not your ability to learn.”
As Rael suspected, Komari’s emotions flare into outrage and then fury that it’ll be Yan’s reputation taking the hit once this gets out.
“He’s your master,” Rael says before she can come up with a response. “Whether he completes your training or not, he chose you and accepted all the responsibility that comes with that. He will protect you at his own expense.”
“You know the truth.” Komari looks up at him. Her eyes are red, angry yes, but with unshed tears welling in them.
“I do,” Rael says. “Yan cannot complete your training. The first place the Council of Reassignment looks to is to the padawan’s lineage.”
It finally seems to dawn on Komari why Rael is here. “You’re here to take over my training?”
“That depends,” Rael says. “Do you want to be a Jedi?”
“Yes.” Komari glares at him. “Of course!”
“Would you like me to complete your training?”
Komari doesn’t have an instant answer this time. She continues to glare, as if it’s his fault she’s off-balance. Her expression softens slightly the longer the silence stretches on. “You would?” she finally asks.
“I would,” Rael answers. “But there are a few conditions.”
The scowl is back, but there’s something weary behind it. Resigned. As if Komari expected a trick.
“I know why Yan can’t continue your training,” Rael says. He holds Komari’s gaze until she flushes and looks away. “That doesn’t happen. I will teach you. I will guide you on your path to becoming a Jedi. But you will learn boundaries, and you will respect them. This is your warning.”
Komari stares at the table for a long time, shame and fear and guilt burning in her mind. She eventually nods. “I understand.”
“The Council of Reassignment has your meeting slated for the day after tomorrow,” Rael says. “You can take the time to meditate. I won’t be offended if you change your mind.”
“I don’t want to meditate. I mean—” Komari hesitates. “Could we have a lesson? To see if we’re a good fit?”
“A wise idea,” Rael says. “A saber lesson and then a joint meditation?”
“Sneaky,” Komari says, but she’s less hostile than she’s been since Rael met her. “But I accept your terms. What do you know about jar’kai?”