"You'll not tell anyone where you're going and you'll not leave Kamino, ever. As far as your friends and family are concerned, you're already dead." - Jango Fett, recruiting the Cuy'val dar, those who no longer exist.
30 BBY - Naboo
It was dark, too dark, and quiet. The only sound to be heard was of boots on cobblestone as a Mandalorian—clad in his full suit of armor—walked through the streets of Theed. A Mandalorian on Naboo was strange, the beautiful planet typically never brought itself any shady attention. But this Mando in fact was nothing new, he had been known to the locals for quite some time now. His dark green and red armor, the assortment of exotic weapons, the cape. He was quite the sight, but not a new one, not after he married a popular Nabooian woman and settled down in a smaller village outside of Theed. What was in fact strange was two Mandalorians on Naboo, and the arrival of another Mando'ade was an investigation that took no obligation.
The mercenary continued down the street and took a sharp turn, causing his cape to flap behind him trying to catch up, and ducked into a small alley with a door at the end. One look at him by the gatekeeper droid, his helmet in its full glory, and he was permitted access to a little hole-in-the-wall sort of cantina. A place like this was hard to came by, living on a planet of such a rich and lavish lifestyle.
All was quiet inside, except for a few hushed voices, no doubt discussing the new visitor in town. And there he sat—also adorned in full suit, except a shining silver armor with blue accents—in the corner booth of the dingy bar.
A Mando didn't have to sit at the front of a room to be recognized, and it was always visible.
The mercenary made his way to the booth and sat down across from the shiny newcomer, upon realization he was surprised, but needed no introduction.
"Fett." He relaxed back into the booth, voice muffled in an almost mechanical tone by his helmet.
Fett, in question removed his helmet, showing tan skin with somewhat curly black hair. He had a scar that ran down the left side of his face, reaching from brow to chin.
"Orshayla." He returned a nod, his voice a deep accent.
Lou Orshayla removed his helmet, his bright blue eyes a stark contrast to his weathered face, his scars and plenty of facial hair. He was blond, always had messy hair, all of which was graying quickly.
Lou knew Jango, he was unpredictable. He had heard of his growing reputation, ego along with it no doubt. Fett had never been a team player, Mando'ade or not. There was no way he would understand the life of a father, and, for the most part, Lou's suspicions were correct. Nothing, however, in the entire galaxy could have prepared Lou for what Jango would say next.
Theed Engineering Corporation shipyard - 3 rotations(days) later
Melony Orshayla, a girl of ten cycles (years) of age—one with long curly brown hair and green eyes, face dotted with freckles—watched with her mother and two siblings, as her father, a Mandalorian mercenary prepared his ship for a journey they knew nothing about.
Her father, helmet under one arm, solemnly walked to his family, eyes shining with agony.
He put his free hand in the shoulder of Melony's brother--fourteen cycles of age--Madyx.
"Ad," son, "be good to your mother, take care of her and your sisters, you understand?"
"Yes Buir," father, "I won't let you down." He held a brave face, chin quivering slightly.
"I know Mad'ika, I never doubted you."
"Daddy!" Little Marin—six standard cycles or age—cried, arms stretched out toward Lou.
"Little Marin," he knelt down and kissed her forehead.
He then stepped to Melony, tears flowing from her eyes.
"It's alright, it's alright, I need you to be strong Mel," he held her tiny hand, "for your mother."
He could barely bring himself to face his wife. She looked angry, but broke into tears. Loretta was an incredibly strong woman, what she lacked in size or strength, she had in her demeanor and composure and confidence. She was just as diplomatic at times as a galactic senator. She tried and succeeded in filling the role as the wife of a Mando'ade, it was not an easy feet for someone outside of the culture.
"Loretta," Lou placed his forehead against hers, a keldabe kiss in mando customs, but it wasn't what she wanted. She wanted her husband to stay, not, undoubtedly, go fight someone else's war.
"Ner cyar'ika, I will return to you, I promise." The pain in his heart was unbearable, he was a Mandalorian—he had a duty to his culture, a culture that depended on loyalty to said duty—but he also had a family. A family he would return to, no matter what. He was sure there was a way to talk to Jango, to convince him that his duty was just as much to his family as his brethren. He was not going to leave and let them think he was dead.
He placed his helmet over his head, and with a nod and swift turn of his cape, walked up the ramp and into his ship. Sealing the ramp and igniting the engines. Before anyone could think or question or try to stop him, he was out of the ship yard, into the atmosphere, and then outer space.
Small village outside of Theed - That night
Melony laid in bed and cried, she hated herself for doing it, Buir had asked her to be strong, but she was scared. She didn't want to say goodbye, she knew he was a warrior, and she knew warriors didn't always come home. She needed him with her, he had faith in her, she did not. It was all so complicated for a ten year old little girl, and it was scary. Herself, along with everyone, had no idea what was happening. The galaxy was shifting, everything she knew was changing. It had started so suddenly, and without warning. She was never good in those situations, but would have to learn to be, it was going to happen more often. The truth was, no one could possibly be prepared for what would happen, the Naboo thought the Trade Federation blockade had been terrible, with there menacing battle droids, they would in time realize there judgment had been miscalculated. Not just Naboo, but the entire galaxy would soon face a whole lot worse than a Trade Federation blockade.
Something was wrong, terribly wrong, and that feeling hit young Mel like a cargo freighter. It wasn't just a dark shift in the balance, it was like the last pebble that tipped the scale. An underlying darkness had been there the whole time, and just now, thanks to her curse, Melony Orshayla could feel it. And so she lay terrified.
She knew her father was headed toward whatever it was, mostly out of irrational fear of the worst, but she wasn't all wrong. She would someday find herself spiraling down the same path, one intertwined with the tragedy of what was to come. Right now she feared for her father, she would soon be a prisoner of a fate already and too carefully designed.
