Song: "Yoda and the Younglings" from Attack of the Clones OST

He brought in a small paper bag and a bottle of water, setting it on the table. The contents of the paper bag were two small packets; triangles of a grayish-blue substance were divided into sets of six.

Arna took their bowls. He poured half the bottle of water into his, the other half into hers. Then he took a triangle of the silt-like substance and sprinkled it into the water, doing the same to hers. With a finger he stirred each substance silently as she watched.

The silt absorbed the water, drying up the mixture into a ball that reminded her of the black bread they ate back home. The smell was unfamiliar, but homely. She ignored the hunger in her gut as Arna passed it to her; it, like every other form of pain, was something to be stifled and endured.

"I'm only allowed one of these a day," Arna said, "but if you want more, just ask."

Dazed all of a sudden, she glanced down. Her voice came out in a mumble. "I....I can't eat all of this."

He tilted his head. "Why not? It's barely a sixth of the whole portion."

"I've...." she looked at the brown mass. "I've never had this much to eat before."

Arna regarded her softly. "Your people must be very poor."

She didn't know what to say. Already she'd seen that Republic life was, by leaps and bounds, better than that of the Kaleesh. And they make their names on top of the dead bodies of my people, she thought, still serene emotionally.

Arna disguised a confused expression with another small smile. "Go ahead and try it," he said. "It tastes like salted bread."

She tore off a small piece with her gloved hand, bringing it to her mouth. It did taste like bread—but impossibly soft, not ridden with bugs or dirt like the bread on Kalee. And laced within it was something not quite sour and not quite sweet. Salt, I suppose.

She swallowed it, lacing her fingers together on the table. "It's good. Is it Mandalorian?"

"I'm not allowed Mandalorian food," Arna said with a dry laugh as he swallowed a tiny bite.

"Why?"

"If I were to join my culture again, it would be a form of attachment. My food comes from the Jedi Council's rations." He sighed. "They like testing me. I was knighted just a year ago and finally met my sister."

"You don't grow up around your family?" she said between bites of food. Neither had she, but that was a price she'd had to pay in blood and metal. Most Kaleesh prized their parents and the parents their children.

Arna looked horrified. "Of course not. That would be the greatest disaster—think of the temptation involved! The only Jedi I know—of—who was able to be wrangled into our customs after being around his family is Padawan Skywalker. But he's the greatest Jedi who ever lived, so he has abilities beyond most of us."

"Greatest Jedi ever, huh?" she said. "Sounds like my friend back home. People called us twin demigods. Burkhadaar, it was the strangest thing."

"He's Force-sensitive? I hear Kaleesh almost never are."

She chuckled. "Not especially so, but how else would you explain an angry five-year-old being a precise sniper?"

"That's fair. What about you? Are you Force-sensitive?"

She smiled. "Not one bit." But this was only a half-truth. In reality, she had every bit of Qymaen's odd abilities. It was a blessing because she could gracefully flit from Huk to Huk and sever their throats like a ribbon dancer; it was a curse because of her never-ending dreams about the Krath droid. Always the Krath droid.

When she had finished, she found that she was not locking emotions down—they'd exited her system entirely. She no longer had to work to feel stone-cold, as she'd had to when she was younger. She turned to Arna. "Now, about that facial veil?"

✺✺✺

She laid down on the sleeping mat. The synthetic skies of Mandalore were dark, and she was oddly cold; she longed for a blanket of karabbac skin. Qymaen's arms would have sufficed as well, as they'd had to sleep close together on long missions before.

Arna exited the room shirtless. This is strange. This is wrong. It's....immodest. She swallowed, recalling that it was impossible to disarm or sneak up on a Jedi.

He cleared his throat awkwardly. "Sorry, but I'm off-limits. I don't know if you knew, but Jedi aren't allowed to—"

She scoffed. "Don't flatter yourself."

"Then why were you staring?" he asked gently. In the dim light of his home, his sharp features stood out, and his blue eyes were like moonstones.

She sighed. "It's just....culture shock."

"Care to elaborate?"

Without turning to meet his eyes, she spoke. "Ask me whatever questions you want."

"Can I be honest with you?"

She huffed. "You're my debtor, not my friend. But go ahead."

"I can read your mind. I know everything about what's been troubling you."

And suddenly nothing mattered to Ronderu. Her brain was a haze. She was racing across the room, throwing her balled fists in the air....

Only to be thrown against the wall. Stars raced across her vision from lack of oxygen, and her regulator worked hard to keep up with the exertion. The moment of rage, when she'd lost herself, was over.

Arna stood still and silent across the room. "I thought you knew that some Jedi can read minds."

She could barely speak; her lips were numb. "I....how much...."

"I'll try to stay out of your head, but don't try to hurt me again," he said firmly, "or you'll answer to my lightsaber."

"How much," she said, pushing her irritation down, "did you see?"

"Well," he said, color splaying across his fleshy cheeks, "you....think I'm immodest."

"You'd be flogged back home," she agreed. "But that can't be all."

"I know you're terrified, even though you're trying to muffle it," he said. "There's someone you want desperately back home." He sighed. "You're not a virgin."

At this her own face boiled, and the muscles in her neck bunched. She gritted her teeth. How can I explain that I had no choice? Now he thinks I'm just another slut.

"You can also be flogged for sleeping around outside of marriage," she mumbled. "I don't want to explain what happened, but it's....it wasn't—"

"I know. I saw everything."

"Then you know my real name?"

"Ru isn't your real name?"

Damn it.

She lowered her eyes. I'll tell as much as I can. "I....I'm a political fugitive against the Republic. I'm a warlord back home. If I told you who I am, I'd be killed."

"Not on Mandalore. We're neutral because of Satine."

"You really don't know," she whispered, "do you?" She shook her head sadly, laying down and facing the wall.

"What's going on back home?"

"A war. They thought they killed me," she said. "If they find out I'm not dead, Mandalore might get invaded."

"I won't let them find out, Ru. I promise."

And though she was bitter toward Arna, she had to be surprised at his kindness, if nothing else.

◈◈◈

Did you know....

● Kaleesh rarely leave Kalee, which is why they're heavily underrepresented in Star Wars. It's not so much due to their lack of technology as it is because they just like the planet that much.

● Mind-readers do exist among the Jedi, but they're fairly uncommon. Even rarer is the talent of psychometry (the ability to touch an item and know things like its history, who's owned it, where it was produced, etc.). One famous Jedi who possessed this talent was Quinlan Vos.

● Arna Gray is the first proper OC I ever made.

Tell me what you think....

● Does Arna have any ulterior motives?

● Will the Yam'rii come after Ronderu once they realize she's alive?