pedro-pascal-love

[pedro-pascal-love]

Chapter four is here! Yay!

Chapter Four

Chapter Four of Man of Honor

Series Masterlist ❖ Main Masterlist ❖ House Of The Dragon Masterlist

Rating: 18+ Word Count: ~3k Summary: Cregan has a much needed conversation with Arra and Sara shares some news. Meanwhile, you contemplate what the future could hold. Warnings: Angst angst angst, language, fluff, slow burn, pining

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Cregan put his head in his hands and let out a heavy sigh.

Why must the gods torment me?

Since waking from his dream, he had sat in bed, staring at the ceiling.

Why?

He was perplexed by the images he had seen.

The words he had heard.

The feelings that had been evoked in him.

He had dreamed of you.

Of having you.

Of loving you.

But it would not be so.

Why must they taunt me in this way?

He had made a mistake, and the dream had given him a glimpse of what he could never have.

Cregan sighed again, then stood up and got dressed. As he looked out his window at the dimly lit sky, a feeling of unease filled his heart. Making his way to the stables, he noticed a dark figure crossing the courtyard toward the kitchens.

He watched as the figure stopped and slowly turned, his grey eyes meeting yours. He sucked in a breath as you turned and shook your head, hastily making your way to the kitchens where you would surely find his sister breaking fast.

Cregan watched you disappear through the doorway before turning and continuing his walk to the stables. It had been some time since he had ridden through the Wolfswood, and he felt it would do him some good. As he arrived at the stables, he spotted an unexpected figure.

Arra.

“Good morrow,” he greeted politely, approaching his horse and stroking its back.

Arra turned at the sound of his voice and smiled, patting her own horse.

“Good morrow, Lord Stark,” she replied. “I thought I was alone in being awake at such an unearthly hour.”

“I thought the same,” Cregan responded, watching her place a saddle on her horse. He walked over to his own saddle, picked it up, and ran a hand down the leather.

“May I inquire as to why?” Arra asked. Cregan turned, setting the saddle atop his horse and fastening it a bit more roughly than intended, causing the stallion to let out a huff.

“I could not sleep, and it has been too long since I’ve ridden through the Wolfswood.”

“It is unfortunate that sleep eludes you, my lord,” Arra said sincerely. “Would you be opposed to me accompanying you? It has been quite a while since we last rode together.”

Cregan inwardly cringed at her words, knowing that he had been avoiding her due to his inner conflict about you, and he had hoped that she had not noticed.

“Nothing would please me more, my lady,” he spoke with a smile. Arra returned his smile and swung her leg up to mount her horse, and Cregan did the same.

“Shall we, my lord?”

“Lead the way.”

The two rode out of Winterfell. As they crossed through the South Gate and turned toward the Wolfswood, Cregan took in a deep breath. The cold wind stinging his cheeks provided a strange sense of comfort, and he closed his eyes, savoring the near silence around them, the steady beat of hooves the only sound he heard. As they crossed the tree line into the forest, Cregan slowed his pace to a trot, and Arra fell into place beside him.

“May I speak freely?” Arra asked, her voice breaking the silence and drawing Cregan from his thoughts. He had nearly forgotten she was there and chastised himself for it.

“Of course,” he answered, turning to meet her gaze.

“What ails you?” she asked, her concern evident. “It has been some time since we last rode together. One might think you are avoiding me.” Cregan bit his lip, trying to think of an excuse that might satisfy her.

“You need not answer if you do not wish to discuss it,” she continued, sensing his discomfort. “I am merely curious. Have I done something to offend you, my lord?”

“No,” Cregan finally replied. “You have not offended me, my lady. There are just… some matters that have arisen and drawn my attention more than I anticipated.”

“I apologize for my behavior,” he added. “It was not my intent to cause you distress with my actions.” Arra shook her head at his words.

“There is no need,” she stated. “I understand that you have more pressing concerns to tend to as the Warden of the North, and you have much on your shoulders.” Cregan offered her a smile, not knowing how to respond.

She is too kind.

“However, as your betrothed, I feel I am owed an explanation regarding your behavior.”

Cregan’s throat grew dry as she spoke. She was right; they were betrothed, and he knew he should do what was right and tell her the truth, even if he wasn’t sure what that truth was. The weight of his unspoken feelings pressed heavily on him.

“I apologize, my lady,” he finally said, anxiety twisting in his stomach. “I have not been forthcoming, and as my betrothed, you should know the truth.” Cregan looked down at his hands, reins clenched tightly in his fists.

“Please know it is nothing you have done, or are lacking,” he began, uncertain how she would react. “But I have realized that another may hold my affection.”

“I see,” she replied. Cregan looked over at her as she pulled her horse to a stop. “However, we are betrothed, and it is my duty to uphold that oath.”

“Does this person know of your fondness for them? And do they return such fondness?” Cregan shook his head.

I doubt she feels anything but hate for me at the moment

More likely, she would wish to see my head on a pike.

“I do not completely understand my feelings,” he admitted, “but regardless, I do not intend to forsake my duty.”

“I do not think it fair that you set aside your feelings, my lord,” Arra responded. “If this person were to return them, would it not be more prudent to pledge yourself to them?”

“My lady, Starks do not forget their oaths. I have made mine to you, your family, and the North.” As Cregan spoke, bile rose in his throat, knowing he had already broken an oath to you. “In time, I’m sure feelings may grow between us instead.”

You are an idiot.

“Perhaps, but perhaps not,” she countered. “In any case, I would like for us to be completely honest with each other from now on. Should things change between you and whoever holds your affection, I hope you will tell me so as not to make a fool of us both.”

“Of course, my lady,” Cregan agreed, nodding.

She truly is too kind.

“I am glad to have gotten some clarity from you, my lord,” Arra said, looking up at the now fully lit sky. “Shall we return?” Cregan nodded and they nudged their horses forward to return to Winterfell.

Upon their return to Winterfell, the two parted ways—Arra heading to the Guest House and Cregan setting off to find Sara. He needed to speak with her and perhaps gain more advice, especially after the conversation he had just had with Arra.

Cregan’s first stop was the kitchens, knowing his sister loved experimenting with new recipes, but she was nowhere to be found. His next destination was the library, yet that too proved fruitless. Finally, he made his way to the Glass Gardens, where he found her tending to various fruits, carefully picking the ripe ones and placing them into her basket.

“Cregan!” Sara greeted him with a warm smile when she caught sight of her brother. “What brings you here?”

“I wanted to speak with you,” he replied.

“Yes, I gathered,” she retorted, rolling her eyes at his lack of subtlety. “What is it?”

“I spoke with Arra,” he began, and Sara raised an eyebrow.

“And?”

“She asked why I have been avoiding her.”

“It seems that has become your latest talent, brother,” she quipped. Cregan shot her a glare and shook his head, refusing to let her get under his skin. “But go on.”

“I spoke of my feelings,” he admitted, “and apologized for my behavior.”

“Oh? And what feelings might those be?” Sara asked, curious of what he had told the noblewoman.

“I told her that I may hold affection for another,” he confessed.

His words took Sara by surprise.

“And what were her thoughts on the matter?”

“She was unexpectedly understanding,” he replied. “And –“

“And?”

“I did not say who it was I held feelings for, but it seems she supports them regardless,” he said.

Sara hummed thoughtfully at his admission.

“In support of your feelings?”

“Yes.”

“In what manner?”

“She said she did not think it fair for me to set aside my feelings for the sake of duty.”

“Well, she is not mistaken.”

“Do you think I don’t know this?”

“No, but you have been quite stupid as of late,” Sara responded. “And you have also made it abundantly clear that you will chose duty above all else.”

“I know,” Cregan said softly. “And now I am unsure of what to do.”

“What is it you mean?”

“I have a duty to uphold, but I also cannot deny what my heart feels.”

“Best you come to a decision on that, and soon,” Sara warned.

“For what reason?”

“For the reason that she may be thinking of her future,” his sister spoke, “one with someone else. One without you.”

Cregan’s heart clenched at what his sister’s warning.

Could it be?

Were you truly considering marriage to another?

You absently stared at the ceiling as hot water swirled around you, licking your skin with its heat. After your conversation with Sara, you had gone to the library to reflect on she had said and began to write a list of suitors who had made their intentions known to you over the years. The more you wrote, the more daunting the idea of finding a husband and leaving Winterfell became. You compiled over a dozen names, many of them belonging to men you had never met, much less heard of, though a few familiar ones stood out.

Manderly.

Bracken.

Lannister.

Glover.

Blackwood.

Dustin.

Royce.

Baratheon.

Mooton.

Bolton.

Hightower.

Tully.

Arryn.

Tyrell.

Frey.

Reed.

Hornwood.

Cerwyn.

The last one piqued your interest. Over the years, you hadn’t paid much attention to who your suitors were, often brushing them off without even looking at their names. So, seeing the name of Cregan’s best friend on your list struck you as strange, though not entirely out of the realm of possibility. After all, the three of you had grown up together, with Castle Cerwyn only half a day’s ride from Winterfell, and you were all around the same age.

You were certain that Lord Cerwyn faced just as much pressure as Cregan when it came to marriage and producing an heir, so it shouldn’t have surprised you that he might consider you as a match. Yet, you couldn’t help but feel confused, given that he was well aware of your predicament regarding Cregan.

You bit your lip, recalling the last time you’d seen Lord Cerwyn and the conversation that followed. It had been several moons ago, when he came to join Cregan on a hunt. By then, Arra had been in Winterfell for some time, and Cregan spent all his time with her, prompting you to keep your distance. Still, you had run into Lord Cerwyn in the kennels on the morning of the hunt, and the two of you had spoken about why he hadn’t seen you around as often.

- FLASHBACK -

The crunching of footsteps pulled you from your thoughts, and you looked up to see Lord Cerwyn entering the kennels, a surprised expression crossing his face as he took in the sight of you sitting on the ground, the head of a large hound resting in your lap.

“My lady,” he greeted, bowing his head politely. “I did not expect to find you here. And at this hour.”

“I often come here to think. Either here or the godswood,” you replied with a small smile. “It has been some time since we last saw each other, Lord Cerwyn.”

“Indeed, it has,” he agreed. “How do you fare?”

Unsure how to answer, you drew in a breath and looked down at your hands, running your fingers over the hound’s ears to maintain your composure.

“I have seen better days,” you admitted with a sigh. “And you?”

“I’ve been well,” he replied, noticing the shift in your demeanor. “What troubles you?”

“Nothing of importance,” you deflected. You knew each other well enough to recognize when the other was lying, so you tried to dodge his questioning—especially since he was Cregan’s best friend.

“My lady, we’ve been friends since we were children. Please, don’t lie to me,” he insisted, sitting beside you on the ground. “Does it have anything to do with your absence around Winterfell?”

Damn.

You groaned, turning to look at him. “Nothing eludes you, does it?”

“Few things do. Now, tell me, are you avoiding a certain nobleman?”

“I’m not avoiding anyone,” you snapped a little too quickly.

“Ah, so you are,” he retorted with a chuckle. “And does this nobleman happen to be tall, with dark hair and strikingly good looks?”

“I’m not avoiding you if that is what you’re asking.”

“I wasn’t talking about me, my lady. Though it does warm the heart to know you find me so handsome.”

“Shut up,” you bit back, rolling your eyes at your friend’s teasing. You knew exactly who he meant, and he knew that too.

“I only jest,” he said with a grin. “But it seems you’re avoiding our dear Lord of Winterfell. Now, why would that be?”

“I already told you—I’m not avoiding anyone.”

“You and I both know that’s a lie.”

“It’s not.”

“Then why haven’t I seen you and Cregan together? Not once have I seen you around him. In fact, you always seem to vanish whenever he appears.” You silently scratched the dog’s ear in response.

“Does a Lady Norrey have something to do with it?”

“No,” you mumbled, and he nudged your shoulder. “Maybe.”

“Tell me.”

“It does not matter.”

“It does.”

“I – I don’t – I don’t want to talk about it,” you muttered, gently pushing the hound’s head off your lap. Lord Cerwyn placed a hand over yours and gave it a light squeeze.

“I know.”

“What?”

“I know,” he repeated. “About your feelings.”

“I don’t know what you mea – “

“I know how you feel about Cregan,” he said. “I know you love him.”

“I don’t,” you huffed.

“You do,” he insisted. “Everyone sees it.”

“No, they don’t,” you argued. “Because it’s not true.”

“Yes, it is, and yes, they do.”

“I don’t lo –“

“Don’t lie to me,” he interrupted. “And please don’t lie to yourself.” You glared at him.

“I’m not lying to myself,” you growled.

“Yes, you are,” he said, chastising you. “We both know it.”

You crossed your arms and let out a frustrated huff.

“Fine,” you conceded. “But it means nothing.”

Lord Cerwyn shook his head.

“It does to you.”

“Yes, well,” you said, standing and brushing dirt from your clothes, “it doesn’t mean anything to him. And nothing can be done about it.”

“You don’t know that,” your friend countered, rising to his feet.

“Yes, I do,” you replied with a hint of annoyance. “If it mattered to him, he wouldn’t have pledged himself to her.” Before he could respond, a stableboy appeared at the entrance of the kennels, pausing when he saw you and the young lord.

“Apologies, my lord, my lady,” he said. “Lord Stark asked me to fetch the hounds for the hunt. My lord, your horse is also saddled and waiting at the gate.”

Lord Cerwyn nodded, and the two of you left the kennels as the stableboy went to gather the hounds. Once outside, you stopped and turned to your companion.

“Lord Cerwyn, it was a good to see you,” you said, “I pray that your hunt is successful.”

“Thank you, my lady,” he replied, leaning in to place a light kiss on your cheek. “Until next time.”

You gave him a smile before turning toward the library, his gaze lingering on you as he headed in the opposite direction toward Hunter’s Gate, where his horse awaited.

- END FLASHBACK -

If you had glanced behind you that day, you would have seen Cregan sitting astride his horse by the gate, waiting for his friend.

If you had taken a moment to turn and look, you would have caught Cerwyn smirking as he watched his best friend watching you, a glint of jealousy in the Warden’s eyes.

You sighed, absentmindedly dipping your fingers into the water as you reflected on the memory—and on Cerwyn’s name appearing among the suitors on your list.

There could be worse choices.

Like a Lannister.

Or a Bolton.

Besides, Cerwyn and I already know each other.

And he knows how I feel about Cregan.

So why would he want to court me?

Then again, it might not be so bad.

Maybe I could even grow to love him one day.

But how would Cregan feel?

You groaned; even when thinking of your future with another man, you still thought of Cregan and his feelings.

Fuck his feelings.

Like Sara said, I need to start thinking about myself.

You shook your head and stood up, grabbing your robe as you stepped out of the water. Retrieving a hairbrush, you padded over to a chair by the fire, took a seat, and began to brush your hair.

At least I have some time before I have to make a decision.

Little did you know, the next few months would hold more changes than you anticipated.

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[pedro-pascal-love]

She was doing it to give Rio bodies in place of Nicky’s. The day she didn’t kill witches was the day Rio came for him. She kept killing witches after he died as a way to try and power up so she could basically fight Death. And that’s how she knew the Darkhold couldn’t bring back the dead because she basically got it to try and bring him back.

obsessed with the way that agatha simply got herself pregnant because she wanted to, had nicky and loved him so deeply and unconditionally. and then proceeded to involve him, a six year old child, in her murderous rampages. gleefully. agatha harkness living or dead you will always serve cunt.

[pedro-pascal-love]

I'm going to have fun writing this one.

Let me know what y'all think! 🫶

GUY.exe Masterlist

Ser Harwin Strong x F!Reader

(Futuristic AU)

Summary: You were smart—brilliant, even—a genius. With three master’s degrees and a leadership role in the robotics research division at work, your career was soaring. But when it came to men, you felt completely lost. You didn’t have the time to date, and every man you met seemed intimidated by your achievements and intelligence. So, you decided to take matters into your own hands.

Indicates NSFW: *

❖ Chapter I - The Idea

❖ Chapter II

❖ Chapter III

❖ Chapter IV

❖ Chapter V

[pedro-pascal-love]

Chapter 3 is up! Ahhhhhhhhh!!!!

Chapter Three

Chapter Three of Man of Honor

Series Masterlist ❖ Main Masterlist ❖ House Of The Dragon Masterlist

Rating: 18+ Word Count: ~3k Summary: Sara gives you some much needed advice and Cregan finds that dreams can be overwhelming, but so can reality.  Warnings: Angst angst angst, language, fluff, slow burn, pining

⟸ Previous Chapter ❖ Next Chapter ⟹

It was just a dream.

You were wrapped Cregan's arms, his body radiating a warmth that not even a fire could offer. He had held you all night, keeping a firm hold on you as you soundly slept against him. And he had laid a kiss on your cheek before pulling you into a passionate kiss.

The near silent closing of your door had drawn you from your slumber and when you opened your eyes, you found yourself nestled beneath the furs of your bed and felt a tingling sensation on your cheek.

You rubbed the sleep from your eyes and let them adjust to your surroundings. It was still dark, so you guessed it was around the hour of the owl, which meant you hadn't been sleeping for very long. You were confused because you were certain you'd fallen asleep on top of your bedding the night before.

Stretching your limbs, you rolled over and caught a whiff of something you hadn't smelled in a very long time. A mix of oak, chestnut, and leather, with a hint of cinnamon. The distinct musk of a man who you'd been chastising mere hours ago.

Was it truly just a dream?

A hundred thoughts swam through your head as you sat up and looked at the spot beside you. To the untrained eye, the furs looked undisturbed, but to you there was a clear sign that someone else had been there. You placed your hand on the empty space and felt a lingering heat. Someone had laid beside you for much of the night and had left just moments ago.

You knew of only one person who would be brave enough, or in this case, foolish enough to come into your chambers. You rubbed your temples, unsure if your mind was playing tricks or if you were still dreaming, or if he had truly been there.

Why would he have been in here?

And why would he lay beside me?

You tried to think of every possible reason why Cregan would do such a thing and kept coming up blank. You let out a huff as you swung your legs over the side of the bed and padded over to your open window. The North was a cold and unforgiving place to those who were unaccustomed to such a cold climate, but to you it was home.

You leaned against the frame and admired the rare sight of the moon. Due to how cold it was, snowfall was not out of the ordinary, and the sky was often blanketed in clouds, but tonight the sky was strangely clear and the night peaceful.

You let out a sigh, reflecting on the events of the day. You’d given Cregan a piece of your mind, and then he’d decided to come into your room and lay beside you. You were conflicted. Cregan’s words in the godswood had cut into your heart like a knife, and yet his actions spoke differently.

You were a jumble of emotions. Irritation. Sadness. Anger. But beneath it all was also happiness. Knowing that Cregan had laid beside you made your heart flutter. As much as you claimed you hated him, you still loved him and couldn’t help but feel giddy at the thought of him lying next to you in such an intimate way.

You groaned at how childish you felt and how you still clung to the idea that he felt something for you. You huffed and stood back from the window, shaking all the thoughts from your head and decided to go to bed.

I need to talk to Sara tomorrow about what happened.

Cregan must have said something to her at least.

The next morning you’d woken up at the hour of the nightingale and quickly dressed, making it your goal to find Sara and talk to her about what had happened yesterday. Your head was still a mess of thoughts, and you needed her perspective on things.

You tip-toed through the halls as quietly as possible in case anyone else was awake at the same time, a certain Lord of Winterfell in particular, and made your way to the kitchens. As you crossed the courtyard, the hairs on your neck stood up and you felt like you were being watched. You paused and turned to look behind you and spotted his silhouette.

So much for trying to be sneaky.

Your eyes met his and even in the cover of near darkness, you could tell that he did not sleep well.

That makes two of us.

You broke eye contact and shook your head, tugging your pelts tight around you, and quickened your pace. You were already anxious about speaking to Sara about what had transpired, but at the sight of him your anxiety doubled.

He had looked very tired, but he also had an unreadable expression on his face, and if your intuition was correct, he had probably kept watching you as you walked away. After a moment, you crossed the threshold to the kitchens and spotted her bend over a steaming bowl of soup.

“Good morrow,” Sara greeted as you approached, her voice soft yet curious.

“Good morrow, Sara,” you replied, anxiously gnawing at your lip. Her eyes narrowed as she noted your restless fidgeting.

“What’s the matter?” she inquired, tilting her head. “You’re never so troubled at the day’s first light.”

“Erm—Cregan… ambushed me in the godswood,” you confessed, casting a quick glance at her. “You wouldn’t happen to know anything of that, would you?”

Sara set down her spoon with a sigh. “I may have told him where to find you.”

“Why?” you pressed, frowning deeply.

“Well, he wouldn’t stop hounding me, for one,” she admitted, waving her hand as if to dismiss the gravity of it.

“That does not answer my question,” you said sharply. “He’s been avoiding me for months, pretending I don’t exist, so why would he ask where I was?”

Sara winced, clearly withholding something. “He and I spoke of… certain matters. And no, I won’t tell you the details. Just know that I knocked some sense into him—or so I thought.”

You huffed in frustration, shaking your head. “And how did that go?” she asked, crossing her arms.

“Not well,” you muttered.

“What did he say?”

“He said… enough.”

Sara groaned in irritation. “Let me guess—you did not like his words.”

“Seven hells, no,” you scoffed. “He tried to apologize, then turned the blame on me. Said I’d been avoiding him too and claimed we were children when he swore to marry me, so it didn’t matter.”

“Ugh, he said that again?” Sara’s face twisted in disgust.

“Again?”

“Yes,” she sighed. “When we spoke, I told him why you had been avoiding him. And before you start, know that I care for you both, but he is still my brother—an utter fool, but my brother nonetheless.”

“So, he truly said the oath was made in youth, as though it carried no weight?”

“More or less,” Sara said, leaving out the part where she told him of your feelings. “But that’s all we spoke of.”

“I see…,” your voice trailed off, thinking about what had happened later that night after speaking to him. You were snapped back to reality when you heard Sara speak.

“What else happened?” she asked, not letting you slip away that easily.

“Nothing… Well, no, not nothing,” you began hesitantly. “I… I fell asleep in my chambers—”

“As one does,” Sara quipped, earning a sharp glare from you.

“—and I awoke later, likely around the hour of the owl, and… I believe he had been there.”

“What makes you think that?” Sara asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Well… for one, I awoke covered by my furs. And…”

“And?”

“I could smell him,” you sheepishly admitted, wringing your hands nervously, recalling how his scent had filled your nose. Sara cleared her throat and shook her head.

“Smell him?” Sara’s mouth twitched into a grin. “Are you a direwolf now?”

“Do not mock me,” you snapped. “You asked, I answered.”

“I’m surprised that he would do that.”

“As am I,” you admitted. “Considering how we parted in the godswood, he had no reason to come to my chambers, let alone lie beside me.”

“Wait, he laid beside you?” Sara’s eyes widened.

“Uh… yes,” you confessed, blushing. “Which only confounds me further.”

“I would be as well if I were you.”

“I don’t know what to do. I feel like I’m just wasting my time waiting for something that will never happen,” you said dejectedly. “Waiting for someone to love me the same way that I love

them.”

“Then perhaps it is time to stop waiting,” Sara suggested, her voice firm yet gentle.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean it may be time to consider other suitors. Since your sixteenth name day, you’ve had suitors practically throwing themselves at you, and you’ve turned them all away. Maybe it’s time to think about your future.”

Her words hit you harder than you expected. You knew she spoke the truth, and you had been wrestling with the same thoughts, but hearing it aloud made it feel real.

“I - I don’t know,” you stammered, torn.

Sara took your trembling hands in hers. “I know it is hard. But you deserve happiness, and my brother cannot offer that.”

Your chest tightened, tears welling in your eyes. “Winterfell is my home,” you whispered. “If I wed another, I’ll have to leave… And I don’t know if I can bear it.”

Sara’s eyes softened with sympathy. “You deserve more. As much as I love Cregan, and as much as I wish things were different, he cannot be the one to give you what you need.”

Tears began to fall, and Sara pulled you into a warm embrace. “I don’t want to leave him,” you sobbed. “I love him, Sara. I love him.”

“I know you do,” she said comfortingly. “But he does not deserve that love. You deserve a man who will cherish you, not one who makes empty promises.”

You wiped your tears and nodded.

Sara offered you an encouraging smile. “In the next moon’s turn, we’ll hold a banquet to welcome the summer. Many of the Northern lords will be there, and it may be the time to consider your options.”

Your heart ached at the thought, but you nodded again, knowing she spoke the truth.

The fire crackled quietly in the hearth, casting flickering shadows across the room as the warmth of the flames bathed the stone walls. Cregan watched you standing by the window, your thoughts drifting like the cool night breeze that seeped through the cracks. His presence was quiet but undeniable as he crossed the room, the sound of his boots against the floor echoing softly.

“Are you alright?” he asked, his deep voice gentle, fearing that any sudden movement might shatter the fragile peace that hung between you.

When you turned to face him, your eyes met his, and for a moment, neither of you spoke. The weight of unspoken words lingered in the air, heavy and thick. Cregan’s gaze softened as he stepped closer, close enough that you could feel the heat of him even before he touched you.

“I don’t know,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. Cregan lifted his hand, carefully brushing a strand of hair from your face, his fingertips grazing your skin in a way that sent a shiver down your spine.

There was a vulnerability in your eyes that he had not seen before, a vulnerability that mirrored his own. Without thinking, you leaned into his touch, and the space between you seemed to collapse. Cregan’s other hand found its way to the small of your back, drawing you nearer, his breath warm against your temple as he rested his forehead against yours.

Time slowed, the world outside falling away until it was just the two of you, wrapped in the quiet of the moment.

“I should have said this a long time ago,” he whispered, his voice strained with emotion. “I…. I love you. I’ve always loved you. And I’m sorry it took so long for me to see it.”

I’ll watched as your heart pounded visibly in your chest, the weight of his words sinking in. You closed your eyes, breathing in his scent—familiar, comforting, yet laced with the tension that simmered between you for what felt like an eternity.

The confession hung in the air, fragile and raw. Cregan’s fingers gently tightened against your skin, as if he feared you might slip away, but you remained still, rooted in the moment.

Slowly, as if giving you the chance to pull away, he tilted his head, allowing his lips to lightly brush yours. The kiss began softly, hesitant, but as you responded and pressed closer, it deepened into a dance of emotions that had finally boiled over.

You melted into him, the feel of your warmth grounding him amidst the storm of feelings surging through him. Each kiss was a promise, slow and intense, whispering the truths he had long kept hidden.

When he finally pulled away, his breath ragged, his forehead rested against yours once more. “I am yours,” he breathed, his voice thick with emotion. “If you would still have me.”

You opened your eyes, searching his face for any trace of doubt, but found none. There was only the truth of his words, the sincerity that echoed in the deepness of his gaze.

“Yes,” you said so softly that he almost didn’t hear it.

A smile broke across his face, and he dipped his head to capture your lips once more, pulling you flush against him as he wrapped his arms around you. The air in the room grew thick with desire as his tongue battled yours for dominance.

He kissed you like a man starved, as if you were the very air he needed to breathe. As he began tugging at the laces of your dress, you pulled at his tunic, the urgency of the moment igniting a frenzy.

Both your movements suddenly grew frantic, a flurry of clothes being haphazardly discarded onto floor as Cregan picked you up by your thighs and carried you to the bed, your lips never breaking contact.

As your back met the soft furs, he finally broke the kiss, his steel grey eyes meeting your own. In the depths of your gaze, he saw a fiery blend of longing and desire that matched his own in their intensity.

Cregan took a moment to take in your features—cheeks flushed, hair tousled, lips swollen—each detail stirring the emotions he had finally dared to embrace.

I almost lost her.

I can’t let it happen again.

It won’t ever happen again.

His heart was pounding in his chest as you threaded your fingers through his hair and brought his lips back to yours, a tenderness in your touch that lit a fire in him.

He wanted you.

He needed you.

And he was going to have you.

In that moment, something in Cregan snapped. He trailed a hand down your body to the apex of your legs and groaned at the wetness that greeted his fingers as he slipped one into your heat. You moaned at his touch, arching your back as he peppered your neck with kisses. The sounds he pulled from you spurred him on as he added a second finger and swirled them inside of you, pulling another loud moan from your lips.

He groaned when he felt your hand wrap around his length and began to pump, matched the rhythm of his own fingers. As he quickened his pace, your teeth met his shoulder in an attempt to quiet your moans of pleasure, and he grinned against your skin.

Cregan draw circles on your sensitive bud with his thumb, and he was filled with pride when he felt your walls clench around his fingers as you came with a small wail.

He brought his fingers to his lips and groaned at the taste of your essence. Never had he tasted something so sweet before, and he wanted more, but before he could make his way down, you wrapped your legs around him, pulling his hips to yours.

He nearly lost it when you guided him to your opening and rubbed the tip of his hardness with your juices, but he managed to stay in control for just a moment longer as he looked at you.

“Are you certain?” he asked, knowing that there was no going back for the two of you after this.

“I want it to be you,” you answered. “Take me, Cregan.”

Cregan saw stars as he finally sank into you. You felt so good. So soft. So tight. So perfect. He gave you a moment to adjust before he began to slowly move, groaning at the way your walls squeezed him. You felt good, too good, and he wasn’t sure how long he was going to last. You fit him like a glove, and he was in paradise.

Cregan’s breathing grew heavy as he looked down at you, admiring the way your face contorted with pleasure as he thrusted into your heat. The way your mouth fell open when he hit just the right spot, the way you dug your nails into his arms, and the way you sounded, pushed him closer to the edge. He was lost in the moment, plunging into you over and over, driving himself deeper and deeper, when he heard it.

“Cregan. Cregan, please.”

Cregan buried his face in your neck as he reached his peak and spilled inside of you with a grunt, your melodious voice being the catalyst to his release.

After a moment to catch his breath, he carefully withdrew himself out of you and rolled onto his back, pulling you to his side, with your head resting on his chest. You both lay there in peaceful bliss, savoring the intimate moment you had just shared—Cregan with his eyes closed, tenderly caressing your back while you drew small circles on his chest, listening to the rhythm of his heartbeat. The room was quiet, save for the light crackling of the fire, and as Cregan began to drift off, he heard it.

“I love you, Cregan.”

Cregan woke with a start. He sat up in bed and looked around franticly. The sky was dark but slowly starting to lighten, and he was alone in his chambers.

It was just a dream.

⟸ Previous Chapter ❖ Next Chapter ⟹

[pedro-pascal-love]

It's so sad that she loved him and Cregan loved her too, but he didn't respect her. She could have prioritized her future and married a good man, but she didn't because she kept waiting for a man who in the end will never go for her. Now she finds herself at the end of the road, alone and with no one to turn to. It is so sad because she is a totally worthwhile woman. She may not know about arts and crafts or embroidery, but she has her own good skills, the only bad thing about her is that she waited and still waits for love from a man who is not worth it, instead of prioritizing herself.

She may love Cregan, but it's time to prioritize herself. She's spent so much time living for Cregan, she doesn't know what it's like to live for herself. Besides, even though Cregan seems to love her in the same way, he doesn't seem to be willing to be with her openly as husband and wife. Besides, it would be very disrespectful if Cregan suggests her to be his mistress. That woman doesn't deserve to be anyone's mistress, not even his. Arra also doesn't deserve to be disrespected like that by her husband, who has a mistress. They are both too much woman for so little man. If Cregan decides to take a mistress, then Stark honor would be in tatters. Our girl must choose a new dream, perhaps walk other paths, choose other battles. I know it's sad, but we women must know how to choose our battles. We cannot stay and fight among ourselves for a man who says he loves you, but at the end of the day he is going to marry another woman. That only means that he only loves himself, he is not capable of loving anyone else. It is undignified and very sad that she (I say Reader like this because I can't imagine myself as her) and Arra are chasing the love of a bad man. Sometimes the right decision is not to marry the man we want, but to marry the man who loves us the most, and Cregan doesn't really love either of them.

I think it's more than clear that I want to come to blows with Cregan for getting these two girls' hopes up for nothing. I wonder if Lord Cerwyn (Cregan's canon best friend) and Lord Glover (Cregan's canon cousin on Cregan's mother's side) wouldn't like to seriously court our girl. I mean just because Cregan rejects her all the time doesn't mean other men are the same. Lord Cerwyn and Cregan were best friends since childhood, their home is only half a day's ride from Winterfell on horseback. I think it would be good for our girl to be appreciated by a man who really sees her. Summary: girls if a man promised you something and not only didn't deliver, but also started dating another woman. Leave that man, that man is not worth it, you can't go crawling around for a man's crumbs. More if that man made it clear to you that for him everything was a game, if you accept him back into your life, then you won't know when he is serious and when he is just playing with you.

Reader is definitely going through it. But don't worry, Cregan will be going through some stuff of his own too. He's not going to come out of all this unscathed.🤫

[pedro-pascal-love]

Let me know what y'all think! 🫶

Prologue

Prologue to What Goes Around Comes Around

Series Masterlist ❖ Main Masterlist ❖ House Of The Dragon Masterlist

Rating: 18+ Word Count: 800+ Summary: In the beginning... Warnings: Angst angst angst, language, mean!Cregan, enemies to lovers.

Next Chapter ⟹

To say you hated Cregan was an understatement. Hate was too kind of a word. You absolutely despised the man, detested his very existence on this planet. Some would go as far as to say that you wouldn’t bat an eye if he simply dropped dead. And you weren’t the only one to share that sentiment. Cregan could care less about you, and he had made it clear every day since you could remember.

Your families had been neighbors since childhood and your twin brother was Cregan’s best friend so the two were inseparable, which meant you were privy to Cregan’s presence all the time. To Cregan, you were Jace’s annoying younger sister, and he never failed to make your life hell at every opportunity.

Elementary school was filled with little things like pulling on your hair or sticking gum in it. Middle school was much of the same, only he’d taken to hiding your glasses whenever he could, and sometimes breaking them, which caused issues with your mother, but you never told her how your glasses kept breaking. For some twisted reason, you didn’t want Cregan to get in trouble for constantly breaking them, and you’d chalked it up to boys just being boys in middle school.

However, high school was a completely different story. In freshman year, you’d gotten braces, and Cregan made it his personal mission to make fun of your appearance every chance he got. It had become second nature for him to greet you with “brace face” or “nerd” whenever he saw you, and despite Jace’s efforts to have Cregan be nicer to you, they fell on deaf ears.

Sophomore year was when Cregan and Jace joined the football team, and you’d joined the mathletes, further solidifying your status as a nerd, and giving Cregan more reasons to make your life miserable. At the start of junior year, Cregan began dating Arra Norrey, the head cheerleader at school, and your life seemed to get worse from there, if that was even possible. As the head cheerleader and captain of the football team, Arra and Cregan were royalty, and whatever they said was law. You thought things couldn’t get any harder, but you were wrong.

Arra seemed to be jealous of you. Why? You didn’t know, but she always found a way to trip you in the hallways, and if she didn’t, then her lackeys would do it for her. Other times you’d be shoved against the lockers so hard that your head would spin. You had grown so used to being drenched in some kind of liquid on a daily basis that you had begun bringing a change of clothes with you. On more than one occasion, your backpack would disappear and would later be found covered in mud or some other substance, and sometimes your textbooks would have pages ripped out, making you have to buy a new one each time.

By senior year, you could count the number of friends you had on one hand. And by one hand, it was really just one finger. Jace. Cregan and Arra had spent the entirety of junior year and all summer alienating you from everyone. You were branded a pariah and those who associated with you in any way were dubbed “losers” or called “sad excuses for a human beings for wanting to be your friend”. Other days you would hear words like “nobody likes you” or “you’re such a freak, no wonder you don’t have any friends.” The insults were not new to you, but that did not mean they hurt any less.

Throughout the year you’d managed to keep your head down enough that the torment had decreased, but only by the slightest bit. Arra’s insults lessened from a dozen a day to a mere half dozen, and Cregan’s antics with vandalizing your locker and belongings had surprisingly become less and less frequent. You had later learned from Jace that Cregan was focused on keeping his grades up and hopefully get a football scholarship. You were relieved at the news since you had also resolved to maintain your impeccable 4.0 GPA in hopes of securing a full ride yourself, particularly to King’s Landing University. It was the most prestigious school anyone could get into, and it was your dream to get into such an exclusive school and take part in their elite doctorate program.

You had hoped that by getting into KLU, that you’d be rid of Cregan and his endless torment and be able to move on with your life, but life had a sick sense of humor and would not grant you such a reprieve so easily.

Next Chapter ⟹

[pedro-pascal-love]

Oh look, another series that I'm starting.🙈😅

Let me know what y'all think!🫶

What Goes Around Comes Around Masterlist

Cregan Stark x F!Reader

Summary: Cregan Stark was the bane of your existence, a thorn in your side, and no matter what you did, he always seemed to be there.

Indicates NSFW: *

Prologue ❖ I. Chapter One ❖ II. Chapter Two ❖ III. Chapter Three

[pedro-pascal-love]

Chapter two is here!!!!

Chapter Two

Chapter Two of Man of Honor

Series Masterlist ❖ Main Masterlist ❖ House Of The Dragon Masterlist

Rating: 18+

Word Count: 2k+ 

Summary: Cregan finally manages to speak to you, but it doesn’t go the way he thought it would.

Warnings: Angst angst angst, language, fluff, slow burn, pining

⟸ Previous Chapter ❖ Next Chapter ⟹

Much to Cregan’s chagrin, you were still skillfully avoiding him, but he had managed to convince Sara to aid him on his endeavor to get you to speak, or even just acknowledge him. Sara had of course rebuffed him at first, but after several days of his nagging, she gave in. She told him that the only place where you would surely be alone was the godswood, and that she would inform him the next time you were there, but the rest was up to him after that.

Cregan expressed his gratitude and the wait began. Two days passed before Sara informed Cregan that you were making your way to the godswood, and his throat grew tight with anxiety.

What am I even going to say?

He waited a while before making his way to the godswood, careful to avoid catching anyone’s attention lest he be pulled into other matters. He needed to patch things up with you as best as he could. The snow quietly crunched beneath his feet as he walked through the godswood, an eerie silence filling the air as he neared the heart tree. As he grew closer, he could make out your silhouette sitting on a rock at the foot of the heart tree, head bowed in silent prayer. As he took a step forward, a twig snapped, and he winced as the sound echoed through the trees.

Cregan’s breath caught in his throat as you whipped your head around at the noise and met his eye. Despite the day already beginning to grow dark, he could see how beautiful you looked. You sat frozen, heart pounding in your chest at the sight of him standing there, staring at you with an unreadable expression on his face. After a moment, you stood, silently dusting the snow off your cloak, and acted as if he wasn’t mere feet away. Realizing what you were about to do, Cregan closed the distance between you with a few short strides, catching your arm as you turned to walk away.

“Wait,” he managed to choke out. “Please.”

You turned and narrowed your eyes at him as you freed your arm from his grasp.

“What do you want?” You spat; voice laced with venom as you addressed him for the first time in months. Cregan cringed at your tone, having never been on the receiving end of your anger, and the usually composed and strong man suddenly felt like a child. He took a deep breath to steady his thoughts, silently praying to the old gods for strength.

“I - I wanted to apologize,” he began. “I’ve been horrible to you as of late.” You scoffed at his words.

“Oh, you’ve realized that now, have you?” You shot back, crossing your arms with a glare. “What? Did you fall off your horse?” Cregan looked at you in confusion.

“Did you hit your head? Have a little too much ale or something? Because why else would you suddenly remember that I existed?” He flinched at your response, not knowing how to reply.

Seven hells, this is off to a great start.

“No -,” he started.

“No? So, what is it then? Why are you here?”

“I’m trying to say that I’m sorry,” he answered, head bowing with remorse. Cregan felt so small in your presence, with your wrath directed at him, that he wanted to curl into a ball and hide from your fury.

“You’re sorry?” You retorted. “After months of ignoring me, all you have to say is ‘sorry’?”

“You’ve also been avoiding me!” He replied. “You’ve come up with an excuse at every turn just to keep your distance, and you never told me why.”

“Oh, so it’s all my fault now, is it?” You sneered, your anger rising with each passing moment.

“No, that’s not what I’m saying.”

“Well, it certainly sounds like it. Do you even know why? Why I avoid being near you?”

Cregan opened his mouth to speak but you cut him off.

“I avoid being near you because I couldn’t stand to look at you. I couldn’t stand to be in your presence, listening to you talk about Arra and how great she is. How perfect she is. How I could never compare to her.”

“I’m -.”

“And that’s not even the half of it,” you continued, ignoring his attempt to speak. “You can’t possibly imagine how it feels to be replaced. To have your best friend ignore you and spend his time with someone else, doing things that you used to do together, and then come back and talk about how great of a time he had. Do you even remember? Do you remember the words you spoke to me right here where we presently stand?”

“Yes,” he managed to say, “I remember.”

“What were the words then? What was it that you said?”

“I told you that we’d marry, and I’d make you the Lady of Winterfell.”

“You promised. You swore it,” you said softly. “You swore it by the old gods and the new.”

“I know.”

“And yet you betroth yourself to Arra.”

“I - I know that I’ve wronged you, but it was never my intention.”

“Oh? What was your intention then?”

“I - you - it,” Cregan stumbled over his words as you looked at him in rage. “It’s what’s best for the North. It’s my duty.”

“What’s best for the North? Your duty?” You snapped, hands now shaking with rage. “Is that your excuse?”

“No, but -,”

“You are an arrogant fool,” you seethed. “You think yourself so honorable, but you are far from it. You are a disgrace to your house and bring shame to the Stark name. You swear an oath, but then proceed to break it. You are nothing but a coward and don’t deserve to be a Stark.”

“We - we were children,” he defended, and the moment the words left his lips he knew he’d made a grave mistake.

Fuck!

“We were children,” you slowly repeated. “We. Were. Children…. So that’s it? It was just a game to you then.”

“No - it,” Cregan tried to backtrack, but you held your hand up to stop him.

“I’ve heard enough,” you said, and you straightened your back and looked him in the eye. “It may have been nothing but a game to you, but it wasn’t a game to me, Cregan Stark.” With that, you pushed past him and marched out of the godswood, not sparing the dejected man another glance.

Once you were out of sight, Cregan’s knees buckled, and he fell to the ground despair. He let out a growl as he hit the snow in frustration. He should have told you how he felt, told you how he had been blind to his own feelings. But instead, he’d completely mucked things up and made the rift between the two of you even bigger. 

You were right, he was nothing but a coward.

But he also had a duty to uphold.

A duty to the North.

A duty to his people.

And duty is sacrifice.

Tears silently streamed down your face as you solemnly walked to the Great Keep, skillfully keeping yourself hidden in the shadows and away from prying eyes. The cold unforgivingly nipped at your wet cheeks, making your tears feel like ice against your skin, but you paid it no mind, too distraught from Cregan’s words to feel the frosty bite of the North. You were angry that he had managed to corner you in the godswood. You were angry at him for breaking your heart more than he already had. But mostly, you were angry at yourself for hoping that he would say something different than what he had.

How could I have been so stupid?

So blind?

Your mind raced with so many thoughts as you finally arrived at your chambers and sat on your bed. You slid off your shoes and stripped off your cloak before lying down and staring at the ceiling. You weren’t sure what to do anymore. On one hand, you wanted to leave Winterfell so you wouldn’t have to see Cregan anymore. On the other, you wanted to stay because you loved him and couldn’t bear the thought of never seeing him again. Your heart ached at both options because no matter what, you’d still be losing and knew you wouldn’t be happy no matter which choice you made.

If only I could turn back time and she never came to Winterfell.

Maybe even farther back so Cregan never made his promise.

Your heart clenched as you remembered his words, the phrase tauntingly echoing in your ears.

We were children.

We were children.

We were children.

He had said those words so easily, as if he’d practiced saying it. As if it was acceptable to make such promises as children and they weren’t to be taken seriously.

Oaths of marriage shouldn’t be taken lightly, but I guess they don’t matter if we made it when we were children.

I really thought it meant something to him.

You let out a huff as you sat up, running a hand through your hair. You needed to move on. You needed to do something other than pine for someone who clearly didn’t care about your feelings. Who would rather break his word and toss you aside as if you had not been by his side your whole lives. As if you hadn’t made sacrifices of your own.

You had turned down numerous suitors over the years because of your feelings for Cregan and hopes of marrying him, but now you knew that you should have done what was best for you. If Cregan had really meant his words that day in the godswood, he would have told his advisors and made it known. Instead, he kept it a secret and put it out of his mind because you were both children and he thought of it as another one of your childish antics.

He never had the intention of actually marrying me.

He was just a stupid boy making stupid promises to a stupid girl.

A stupid girl who was stupid enough to listen to his stupid words.

Stupid.

Stupid.

Stupid.

That night you cried yourself to sleep, unaware of the man who stood just outside your door, listening to your sobs of pain, and knowing he was the cause of such sorrow.

After you had left Cregan in the godswood, he had stayed beneath the heart tree praying to the old gods. Praying for guidance and for help to make the right choice. He was torn. He knew his feelings for you. He knew that they had always been there, but he was too blind to see it until now. But he had also made an oath to Arra and her parents. He had made an oath to his people, to the North. He simply could not forsake his word for his own selfish desires, but he had also given his word to you all those years ago, and the pain that he was causing you was eating him up inside.

Some time had passed and by the time Cregan returned to the Great Keep it was nearly the hour of the bat. As he walked through the quiet halls to his chambers, he decided he wanted to try and speak with you again, in hopes of somehow repairing the damage he had done. Once he arrived at your door, he took a deep breath and was about to knock when he heard it.

You were crying.

Cregan’s heart dropped to his stomach.

He had caused this.

He was the reason why you were currently bawling your eyes out alone. It felt like a lifetime ago that he was the one comforting you when you were upset, but now he was the cause of your misery. Cregan stood there, forehead resting against the wooden door, unsure of what to do. Should he go in and comfort you? Should he leave?

You’d probably yell at him and throw him out if he came in, especially after the earlier interaction, but he wanted nothing more than to pull you into his arms and tell you everything was going to be fine and that he was sorry. He knew he should probably leave, but his feet refused to move, and guilt consumed him as your weeping continued.

If only he’d had the courage to tell you his feelings, you wouldn’t be going through this.

If only he had remembered the oath he’d made, you wouldn’t be so broken.

If only he wasn’t bound by duty as the Warden of the North.

It felt like hours, when it was really minutes, before your whimpers eventually stopped and Cregan knew you’d fallen asleep. He turned as if to walk away but paused. You were always a heavy sleeper, especially after crying, but there was still a slight chance that you would wake up, but Cregan was willing to risk it. He took deep breath and quietly opened your door, and the sight that greeted him made his breath hitch. There you were, hair splayed out around you, the dim light from the moon illuminating your delicate features.

He took the chance to admire you, noting the way your lips were parted just a bit, and a quiet snore coming from your mouth. He smiled at how peaceful you looked, free of the despair he had caused. As he trailed his eyes over your body, the evening breeze graced the room and made you shiver in your sleep. You had been so distraught that you hadn’t even sought comfort in the warm furs adorning your bed. Cregan tip-toed to your side and slid his arms under your small frame, careful to not rouse you from your slumber, as he shifted you just enough to cover you with a blanket.

As he pulled the cover up to your chin, he caught sight of your tear-stained cheeks. As he wiped them way with the pad of his thumb, you turned your face and nuzzled into his palm, letting out a small sigh at the contact. Cregan froze, worried that he’d woken you up, but breathed a sigh of relief when you made no other movements. He tried to draw his hand away slowly, afraid that you would somehow wake up, but was stopped when you abruptly grabbed his arm and rolled over, unexpectedly pulling him into the bed.

He quickly caught himself before he landed on you and held his breath as he gradually lowered his body to lay next to you, praying that you wouldn’t choose that moment to wake up. He thanked the gods when he managed to settle himself behind you, arm slung over your body, trapped in your grip. Cregan steadily shifted until he was right up against you, nothing but the thick material of the wool and furs separating your bodies and closed his eyes.

He smiled as he recalled how the two of you would often fall asleep like this as children. How you two would somehow always manage to wake up in each other’s arms, your head resting on his chest, his arm tightly curled around you. He had never given it much thought back then since you’d been children, but then chastised himself since that kind of thinking was what got him into this mess to begin with.

He tried to think of the last time you’d fallen asleep in his arms and realized that the last time was shortly after your sixteenth name day, several months after his father had passed. Your septa had admonished you the next morning when she’d found you in his arms, saying that it was not appropriate to sleep beside a man that was not your husband, especially when the man was the young Lord of Winterfell, and she had not hesitated to give him the same scolding. The two of you never slept beside each other after that.

Cregan was saddened at the memory, having never recognized the obvious affection between you two. He closed his eyes, listening to your breathing and occasional snores, and breathed in your scent. The smell of pine with a pleasant undertone of smoke invaded his nostrils, and he draw soft circles over your hand as he felt how your body perfectly fit against his. He committed it all to his memory and wanted to savor this moment for as long as he could, knowing that he would probably never get another chance at this with you.

Cregan laid awake behind you for several hours, and as the hour of the owl approached, he reluctantly released you from his embrace and stood. He couldn’t help himself as he leaned down and placed a kiss on your cheek and forehead before exiting your chambers, giving you one last look before he shut the door silently behind him.

Unbeknownst to him, you had opened your eyes just seconds after the door had shut.

⟸ Previous Chapter ❖ Next Chapter ⟹

[pedro-pascal-love]

I propose that Cregan fights to get his girl back. It's not right that a girl is sworn to be married, only to be abandoned by the first pretty face that appears, then the guy has an epiphany and it turns out that he loved you from the beginning while she was suffering, it's not right. Cregan must understand that if he did not appreciate her romantically and that everything was a game for him even something serious like marriage, that does not mean that other men do the same.

Cregan must crawl through all the corridors of Winterfell if he wants her back. She deserves a man who truly appreciates her while Cregan suffers the same as she suffered for him.

You'll have to wait and see how things unfold. 🤐

In his defense, he did make that promise when they were 14. Not really an excuse because of how serious that kind of promise was (and because you're pretty much considering a man at 14 in the Game of Thrones universe), but stuff like romance can be a little confusing at that age, especially when it's to a childhood friend. And he probably didn't think his words through. I mean, what 14 year old does? Lol.

Plus, Stark men aren't exactly known for being the brightest bulbs in the bunch. 😂

[pedro-pascal-love]

Chapter One here we go!

Chapter One

Chapter One of Man of Honor

❖ Series Masterlist ❖

Rating: 18+

Word Count: 3k+ 

Summary: Things change, but not necessarily for the better.

Warnings: Angst angst angst, language, fluff, slow burn

⟸ Previous Chapter ❖ Next Chapter ⟹

Four years after Cregan had sworn his oath to you by the heart tree, she entered your lives.

Arra Norrey.

A noblewoman of House Norrey. She was everything you wanted to be. Brown hair that flowed down her back, honey brown eyes, and a beautiful smile that could capture any man’s attention. And catch their attention it did. Particularly the attention of one man.

Cregan.

That was when everything changed and life as you knew it was turned upside down.

At first it started out small. Cregan and Arra would go out on horseback and upon returning, Cregan would talk endlessly about how great of a rider she was and how he had not expected such skill from someone like her. He’d speak of her love for poetry and songs, mentioning that you should ask for her to sing sometime because her voice was so beautiful. He would bring up miniscule things like how she wasn’t the fondest of the cold, even though she lived in the North. How her needlework was impeccable. The list went on and on.

But then the comparisons started to happen. Cregan would say things about her and then mention how it reminded him of things you would do and how similar the two of you were. Other times, he would make comments stating how different you were from each other. He would offhandedly say things like “Arra sings all the time, why don’t you ever sing?” or “Arra said she learned how to make this delicious duck soup and offered to make it sometime. I’m sure she’d be more than happy to teach it to you.” You were sure that Cregan did not mean them in a malicious way, but those comments had begun to slowly chip away at your self-esteem.

You never sang around him because you hated the way your voice sounded and were always too nervous to sing for others. You knew how to cook, but you also knew how to hunt and survive in the desolate lands of the North. You knew how to skin a rabbit and take down a boar with one shot through its eye. You even knew how to wield a sword and do it while on horseback. You didn’t need some noblewoman from some noble house within the North to teach you anything. But even knowing all those things that you could do that Arra couldn’t, you still felt insignificant when compared to her. She had become the apple of Cregan’s eye, and nothing you did or could do, would be enough.

Over time the distance between the two of you grew and eventually you hardly spent any time at all, his time and energy spent towards Arra and their budding relationship. And then came the news that shattered your heart and solidified the future between the two of you. Cregan and Arra were betrothed. A meager year after she’d entered your lives, and they were now to be married in six moons.

You remembered that day as clearly as a crystal on a rare sunny day. Cregan had approached you with a wide grin on his face and said that he and Arra’s parents had spoken and decided to betroth the two and bring two great houses in the North closer together. He had sounded so elated at the news and told you that he was anxious and hoped he would make a good husband. You had reassuringly smiled at him and told him that he would make a fine husband and that Arra was lucky for such a match. On the outside you presented a cool and collected close friend, but inside your heart was crumbling.

Forgotten was the oath you’d both spoken to each other beneath the weirwood tree all those years ago.

Forgotten was the promise of a future together.

Forgotten was the childhood pledge he’d made to you about becoming the Lady of Winterfell and holding Cregan’s heart, that privilege was now Arra’s.

It was now a mere dream that would no longer come to fruition and your heart grew heavy at the revelation that you had lost your chance at happiness with him. That night was the first time you had cried yourself to sleep since the death of your parents, and Cregan was not there to comfort you like he had been so many times before.

As time went on, you began to distance yourself from Cregan more and more, your heart not being able to take seeing him and Arra constantly interacting. Every time Cregan approached you to go hunting or spend time in the godswood, you’d declined, saying you had other duties to tend to or had promised to spend time with Sara, and you both knew how Sara was.

At first, Cregan had thought nothing of it, believing your excuses, but as time went on, he noticed how you would avoid making eye contact with him, and how you’d somehow slip away when he would enter a room. He’d had enough of your avoidance and wanted to confront you, but you had a talent of becoming invisible and made it impossible find for him to find you. So, he resolved to do the next best thing: speak to Sara about your behavior. The two of you were always close, though not as close as you and Cregan had once been. That had changed since Arra had arrived.

Sara had become your confidante, listening to you talk about Cregan when he and Arra grew close, and had even been there to hear your confession of your feelings towards Cregan. She was the only person who’d known about your and Cregan’s words in the godswood that day and had kept silent when you spoke of your heartache over the broken promise. She listened intently, and as much as she wanted to give Cregan an earful for his obviousness for your feelings, not once had she betrayed your trust. However, after weeks of your avoidance, Cregan had gone to her, she did not hold back on chastising him.

That afternoon, Cregan had watched you abruptly end your conversation with his sister and stealthily disappear as he approached, something that had begun to irritate him. He had quickened his pace, hoping to somehow stop you, but it was no use, you’d once again slipped through his fingers.

He let out a small huff and Sara turned to look at him, an eyebrow raised at his demeanor.

“Care to tell me what you’re so worked up about, Cregan?” Sara asked, already knowing what the answer would be.

“I just - ugh - that damn woman,” he began, his voice laced with irritation. “She’s been avoiding me, and I have no idea why! But YOU clearly do.”

Sara hummed in thought before responding in a teasing tone.

“So, what if I do?”

“Tell me why. What have I done to illicit such treatment?” Cregan grumbled.

“You really don’t know?” She quipped back as she folded her arms across her chest.

“No! I wouldn’t be standing here asking for you to tell me if I knew, now, would I?” He retorted in annoyance, his patience beginning to wane.

“Wow,” Sara said as she shook her head. “You really are as thick as the hide on a cow, aren’t you?”

“I don’t have time for your petty insults,” Cregan snapped. “Tell me.”

“Well, I’m sorry your lordship,” she sarcastically replied, finding amusement from his rising temper. “It’s not my fault you’re my idiot of a brother who can’t see what’s right in front of him.”

“Enough with your riddles, please,” Cregan spoke, his tone changing from annoyance to a small plea.

“If you must know, it’s because of YOU.”

“Me? What have I done?” He questioned, confused as to what he did to cause such treatment from you.

“It’s more what you HAVEN’T done, dear brother,” Sara stated, pondering her next words carefully. “Do you not remember?”

“Remember what? What have I not done that I was apparently supposed to do or be doing?!” Cregan exasperatedly exclaimed.

“You’d think that something as big as this would be something you wouldn’t easily forget,” she began. “After all, Starks do not forget their oaths.”

Cregan let her words sink in, unsure of what she meant.

What could she possibly be talking about?

An oath?

What oath?

I never made - oh.

“Oh.”

“Oh. Is that all you can say?!” Sara asked, the dumbfounded look on Cregan’s face enough to ignite her anger.

“I - we - we - we were children!” Cregan answered. “It was nothing but a game the two of us played! Just like any other game.”

Sara scoffed at his words.

“Maybe for you, but for her it was never a game,” she shot back. “Do you often make a habit of swearing oaths beneath the heart tree? Oaths of a false future?”

“Sara - I - again, we were children.”

“All of the North knows how serious oaths made in the Godswood are to be taken. Even children know not to do such things. Especially beneath the heart tree! Not oaths of marriage! And ESPECIALLY not oaths of marriage that are sworn to the old gods. You were both far from children when you’d spoken those words to her, and you know it.”

Cregan recoiled at her harsh tone, surprised that they had not attracted any prying eyes from how tense things were.

“But - but - I don’t understand,” he softly said. “What does that have to do with any of this?”

“You fucking imbecile!” Sara seethed. “It has EVERYTHING to do with this. You’re betrothed to another, with no thought to how it would make her feel. Not only that, but ever since Arra arrived, you’ve done nothing but ignore her. And even worse, compare her and Arra! Are you really that blind? Do you not see the hurt you’ve caused the poor girl? The pain she has had to constantly endure everyday seeing you with another woman? THAT is why she avoids you. THAT is why she wants nothing to do with you. Her heart breaks every time she sees you, Cregan. She sees the way you look at Arra and wishes you’d look at her like that. She has spent the last year suffering in silence because of YOU. YOU made an oath to her that you would take her as your wife and make her the Lady of Winterfell, but now that oath has been forgotten. I am just a Snow, and for that I am glad, because I would be ashamed to be a Stark who forgot an oath. Even one made as a so called child.”

“I - I did not know of her fondness towards me,” he whispered, his heart clenching at the Sara’s words.

“That’s a lie and you know it,” Sara spat out. “She has stood by you through everything. Your brother’s passing. Your father’s passing. Getting Winterfell back from your uncle and cousins. Every moment since childhood, she has been there, and you doubt her feelings for you?”

“I did not know she felt that way,” Cregan answered, looking down at his feet. “Felt more than just kinship.”

“Anyone could see that she felt more than kinship towards you. All the damn North could see it! Can you really say that you did not feel the same way?”

Cregan hesitated to meet his sister’s eyes. He could feel them burning a hole into his skull, and he was sure that had he not been the Lord of Winterfell, she would have struck him by now. Although he doubted that would prevent Sara from raining her wrath down upon him, consequences of hitting a lord be damned.

“I - I do not know,” he softly spoke as he finally looked at his sister. “What do I do?”

“That, I cannot answer for you. You must decide that for yourself, dear brother. If you really don’t feel anything for her, then go through with the marriage to Arra. But if you do feel more than you care to admit, then that is something that you must figure out on your own,” Sara said as she patted his shoulder and walked away.

Cregan watched as Sara walked into the snow-covered courtyard and a lump formed in his throat when he spotted you in the shadows on the other side. He let out a sigh as you met his eye and then unsurprisingly slipped into the darkness to hide away. At that moment Cregan realized that that was the first time you had met his gaze in a long time. For exactly how long it had been, he wasn’t sure, but it had been long enough that he felt an emptiness sweep over him when you tore yourself away from his vision and faded into the darkness.

Cregan spent the next several days mulling over everything Sara had told him. Apart from speaking to his council regarding preparations for the upcoming winter and updates regarding the Wall, Cregan spent most of those days alone, often opting to go riding or sit in his study in quiet contemplation. Much of that was him going through every memory you two shared, trying to figure out where things had changed for you. However, during the evenings, in the solace of his chambers, he found himself just thinking about you.

Who you were as a person and how you had grown so close over the years. Arra had of course taken note of his sudden change in demeanor, and he had made up excuses like having important business to attend to with the maesters due to the coming winter being predicted as a longer and colder one. Arra had not pushed the matter, knowing that he had a lot on his shoulders as the Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North, especially when he was still quite young.

Some nights sleep would elude him, his thoughts weighing too heavily on his mind to allow him rest. On those nights he found himself wishing he could speak to you about everything. To confide in you as he once had. To talk about what he had done wrong and how to fix it. One such night, as he laid in his bed blankly staring at the ceiling, his thoughts drifted to a memory where you had been exceptionally happy.

- FLASHBACK -

It was the afternoon before your fifteenth name day, and Cregan had been teaching you how to shoot. You had always been an avid learner and that morning you’d begged him to teach you the ways of the bow, and he had finally relented when you told him it could be his gift to you. He had rolled his eyes at your antics but nonetheless grabbed a bow and told you to meet him in the practice yard.

You had been so carefree back then and Cregan smiled as he remembered the way your eyes had lit up when he appeared with a bow and quiver of arrows. He had started by teaching you the basics, how to hold the bow and draw the arrow back to the proper position, and how to aim. At first, you had struggled, unable to draw the arrow far enough and maintain the hold to aim, so Cregan had come up you to fix your form.

“Your feet should be shoulder width apart with your shoulder pointed to the target,” he instructed, moving your feet into the proper position and your shoulder to line up with the target. “Good, now keep your back straight and push your hips forward. You should be comfortable enough to hold this position for a while. Your inner elbow should be parallel to the ground and when you draw the arrow make sure to pull your shoulders back and lift your elbow. Now bring the arrow back toward your face until the bow feels tight, but keep your arms relaxed. Don’t tense.”

You followed his instructions as best as you could, but he noticed that your stance was still a little off, so he went to stand behind you and pulled your shoulders back, before placing his hands on your hips, shifting you ever so slightly to bring your pelvis forward. At the time he had taken note of how you had sucked in a breath at the action but thought nothing of it as he held your waist and told you to release the arrow. You’d both watched with bated breath as the arrow soared through the air and landed dead center of the target. You jumped with glee and turned to face him; a giant grin plastered on your face.

“I did it!” You proudly exclaimed.

“That you did, my lady,” Cregan replied, your infectious smile drawing one of his own to his face. You continued to jump for joy and expectedly planted a kiss on his cheek, his face growing hot at your act of affection. You then turned back to the target and nocked another arrow, unaware of the blush that graced his face and continued spread across his cheeks and down his necks. He couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride as he watched you shoot arrow after arrow into the target, his smile staying on his face the entire time.

- END FLASHBACK -

Cregan abruptly sat up in bed at the memory. He’d remembered the way his body had reacted at being so close to yours. How he’d felt a tingle in his fingertips when he placed his hands on your hips. He recalled the way your body easily shifted into position as he moved you into place. He remembered how you moved with such grace as you kept shooting, your skill improving with each arrow.

As Cregan continued to think of the events of that day, and the more he recalled, the clearer things became. Not just for that day, but for every day before and after that.

The way the sun illuminated your eyes, showing a hint of mischief behind them, had always captured his attention. The way the cold bite of the North would reddened your nose and cheeks had always made him chuckle in amusement.

The sweet melody of your voice, especially when saying his name, had always made him feel warm inside.

The way you smiled so much brighter - a special smile reserved just for him - when seeing him had always made his heart thump loudly in his chest.

And the way your small hand always seemed to sit so snuggly in his large ones had always made his breath hitch.

It had always been there.

The way your cheery and sweet temperament balanced his more serious and brooding nature.

The way the two of you always worked so well together when it came to hunting or matters of running Winterfell.

The way you each knew when the other was having a bad day and needed extra comfort.

The way you could both communicate with just one look.

The two of you had always fit so perfectly together, like pieces of a puzzle, or two sides to a coin.

It had always been there.

And it had always been seen by those around the two of you. 

Except for him.

Until now.

Cregan’s eyes widened in realization. Your feelings were not one sided. Far from it. He felt the same way for you as you did for him.

You loved him.

And he loved you.

⟸ Previous Chapter ❖ Next Chapter ⟹

[pedro-pascal-love]

I'M BACK!

Writing a new fic (and working on the other ones too), but check this new one out and let me know your thoughts!

Prologue

Prologue to Man of Honor

❖ Series Masterlist ❖

Rating: 18+

Word Count: 400+

Summary: How were you to know that words spoken as children would one day come back to haunt you?

Warnings: Angst angst angst, language, fluff, slow burn

A/N: Coming back from a three year hiatus to start a new series, and hopefully finish the other ones, so please bear with me!

Next Chapter ⟹

Snow.

It covered everything as far as the eye could see.

From East to West, and North to South, it blanketed the whole of the land as far as the eye could see. You were used to the familiar bite of the cold. You were always strange and had basked in the way the crisp air tickled your nose and turned even the warmest of fires into a dwindling warmth. You were a true Northerner, born and bred in the vast lands of white, and no stranger to the unforgiving winds of winter. You were never one to shy away from a challenge, often times seeking one out and getting yourself into trouble along the way.

However, you were never alone in your endeavors. You were always accompanied in your ventures by your best friend, Cregan Stark.

You and Cregan had grown up together since you were babies, with Cregan being just a few months older than you. You had been the daughter of his mother’s best friend, and when your mother passed in childbirth, followed shortly after by your father in a hunting accident, the Starks had gladly taken you in and raised you alongside their son. You and Cregan grew up like siblings; you argued like siblings, wrestled like siblings, and confided in each other as only siblings could. At the tender age of ten, you and Cregan had been each other’s first kiss, curiosity pushing the bounds of your innocence. At fourteen, on an especially cold and snowy afternoon, the two of you were quietly sitting beneath the heart tree, and Cregan had spoken so softly that you almost missed it.

“One day, we’ll get married, right here under this tree, and you’ll become the Lady of Winterfell,” he vowed.

Your heart had leap at his words, and you had pulled him in for an embrace and placed a kiss on his cheek.

“You promise?” You asked.

“I swear it, by the old gods, and the new.”

That day you had realized that your feelings for Cregan had changed.

You no longer felt the love one would have for a sibling. 

No, this was something else entirely, something more.

At least for you.

How were you supposed to know that those feelings, and his words, would take you both down a path that neither of you knew how to navigate?

Next Chapter ⟹

[pedro-pascal-love]

Yeah, but her prophecies have usually happened during the same episode.

Helaena rarely says anything that doesn't mean something significant, so I need to know what she meant by "This one has stopped singing" because I KNOW it's not just as simple as that.

Tell me what you know.

[pedro-pascal-love]

Seasmoke really be like:

Meanwhile Addam:

[pedro-pascal-love]

I’m assuming because Lord Tully died.

Helaena rarely says anything that doesn't mean something significant, so I need to know what she meant by "This one has stopped singing" because I KNOW it's not just as simple as that.

Tell me what you know.

[pedro-pascal-love]

 @madslorian @magicals-stuff @mars.tales @marvelousmermaid @marydjarin @maxwell--lord @missspooky1996 @multiplemando @myheart-pedro @mysticalgalaxysalad @neganwifey25-blog @nu1freakshow @oceanablue @oh-pedro-blog @ooh-spaget @pascalisthepunkest @pascalove @pascal-rascal424 @pasckles @pedro4ever-blog @pedrosgirlx @pedrostories @peterztingle @phoenix-of-loki @pintsizemama @purplepascal042 @qhbr2013 @randomness501 @readsalot73 @sara-alonso @sherala007 @severewobblerlightdragon @silverwolf319 @spideysimpossiblegirl @star017 @stolenfireandice @supernaturalgirl @supersingle @talesfromtheguild @terrormonster55 @theundeadplayer @thewintersoldierswife @thisshipwillsail316 @tigpooh67 @tintinn16 @toomanystoriessolittletime @venusandromedadjarin @voteforpedropascal @weasleytwins-41  @willowtheewisp @wondergal2001 @wonderlandgabby @xocalliexo @yourworshipfulness @zomgannalolz @iceclaw101 @trickstersp8 @alwaysdjarin @mswarriorbabe80 @Bugaman1201 @squidwell @tanzthompson

I Don't Want To Miss A Thing

Chapter Eleven of Blast From The Past

Series Masterlist ❖ Main Masterlist ❖ Join My Taglist

Rating: 18+

Word Count: 3k+

Summary: Din spends some time with Dinah, and she gets to know him a little more.

Warnings: ANGST angst angst angst, language, fluff, slow burn, mutual pining

Song: I Don’t Want To Miss A Thing by Aerosmith

Author's Note: Wow, it’s been a longggggggg time since I’ve posted an update. Life has gotten pretty crazy for me lately, and I’m sure you’ve been waiting for an update to this story for a while! Don’t worry, I haven’t abandoned this fic!

⟸ Previous Chapter ❖ Next Chapter ⟹

Din’s POV

After his conversation with you, Din was lost and unsure what to do.

He had told you the truth of why he had left.

He had apologized.

And he had shown you his face, yet it was not enough.

Din knew that it would take time for you to come to terms with everything. After all, you had every right to be upset with him. But how long that would last was a different matter entirely.

Start small, he thought to himself. Din resolved to start with little things, gifts to show you that he was serious about staying and winning your affection back.

Maybe find a way to spend some time with her and Dinah.

He scrounged through his brain to remember the little things you liked, and he smiled at one of the first memories he had regarding your interests.

―FLASHBACK―

Din had been off tracking his latest quarry but had no luck that day, and he begrudgingly made the trek back to the Crest. As he lowered the ramp, he spotted you polishing his pulse rifle, and he felt a warmth bubble in his chest. He liked the way you looked at handling his weapon, and he inwardly chuckled at himself at his statement, and he willed his mind to crawl out of the gutter.

“No luck?” you spoke, and he felt your eyes trail after him as he began to climb the ladder to the cockpit.

“No,” he replied, slightly grumpy at the lack of progress with the bounty.

“I’m sure you’ll find them soon,” you reassured him, following him up the ladder. He took a seat in the passenger’s chair, thankful that you knew how to pilot the Crest, as he wanted a few moments to decompress as much as possible, although your presence sometimes made that difficult. He knew he had budding feelings for you but knew he would never act on them, though that did not prevent his mind from wandering. As you took a seat in the pilot’s chair, you looked at him questioningly, and he motioned for you to go to a different location on the planet. You nodded and quickly began to guide the Crest to another part of the sphere, and as the ship flew over a waterfall, Din heard you let out a sigh.

“What is it?” he inquired, curious at your reaction to the sight of the waterfall.

“Nothing,” came your reply, and he saw through your attempt at sounding nonchalant. He hummed in response, waiting for you to continue just like he knew you would.

“I just,” you spoke, pausing to release a sigh, “I used to draw as a child back on Corellia.” Your words caught Din off guard, and he looked at you through his visor, wanting to hear more.

“Whenever I had a chance, I could scribble down the image of a waterfall, sometimes imagining that I was sitting at the edge of a lake and just watching the water ripple over each other.” Din saw the faraway look in your eyes and closed his eyes, picturing the waterfall you had just flown over, a soft smile gracing his lips as he listened to your voice.

She wants to draw waterfalls and probably sunsets.

Interesting.

The sweet melody of your words gently pulled him to sleep, and he was shortly pulled into a light slumber before he could hear the rest of what you were saying.

―END FLASHBACK―

Din’s lip quirked as the memory, recalling how your eyes sparkled every time you would speak of waterfalls or sunsets, shamelessly telling him of your dream to sit on the shore of a lake and capture the beauty of the world around you. The thought of giving you what you had dreamed of came to him, and he instantly knew what his first gift to you would be.

A sketchbook.

Tracking down a vendor that sold sketchbooks was not a simple task, but Din managed to find one. He had taken his time studying the unique designs on each cover until one caught his eye. A leather-bound sketchpad sat on the corner of a table, an elaborate pattern of a forest and flowers on the front cover and a waterfall flowing into a lake on the back.

It’s perfect.

He hastily bought the sketchbook and several other items and made his way back to his ship. Once aboard the vessel, he took a seat in the cargo hold and began to write a list of other gifts to give you before composing a note to include with the sketchpad. Din sat and thought long and hard about what to say, wanting to make it as heartfelt as possible. After a few moments, he finally put pen to paper and began to scribble down his love letter.

That should be enough, he thought, looking down at his handiwork. Din started to assemble the present, gently slipping his note inside the book and placing both into a box with a small sigh.

Now the question is, when do I give it to her?

―THREE DAYS LATER―

Three days came and went when Din finally decided to drop off the first of several gifts to you. Just as the hues of the sun began to peek over the horizon, he found himself awkwardly standing at your doorstep, clad in his armor, box in hand. He could hear you getting Dinah ready for the day, your voice sleepily ringing throughout your home, and a small smile crept onto his face.

It’s now or never.

Hesitantly, he lifted his hand and made to knock on your door but stopped.

Kriff, should I hand it to her or just leave it here?

No, she would probably throw it at me if I gave it to her.

Din let out a sigh, set the package down, and straightened himself back up. He stared at your door for another moment, contemplating if he was making a huge mistake, but then made up his mind and softly knocked. Not wanting to risk the chance of you opening the door to find him still positioned there, he quickly walked away and posted himself far enough away to see you but hidden from your sight. He watched the entrance slide open and his breath caught in his throat as you appeared and spotted his gift on the ground. Din’s heart loudly beat in his chest at the way your hair swept across your face with the light breeze, and your eyes darted around the street, trying to find the source of the mysterious package outside your home. He patiently waited for you to pick up the box and retreat inside before making his exit, hoping and praying that you wouldn’t throw it into the trash.

That would make tomorrow’s peace offering completely useless.

As Din walked through the town, a vendor stand caught his attention, and he changed course for it. He studied the assortment of objects and, after some deliberation, decided on one in particular. Din bought the new surprise and continued on his way through the village, stopping by now and then to buy supplies and a few more gifts he knew you would appreciate. At least he hoped you would appreciate them.

This next week is going to be a busy one.

He dropped off a brand-new set of colored pencils and charcoal the next day and a bouquet the day after that. However, this time he included a gift for Dinah, a plushie of a porg, with a floral arrangement. His heart warmed as he imagined her reaction to seeing the new toy, and he wanted nothing more than to be there to witness it.

Maybe someday.

The day after the flowers and plushie, he left a bag of apples and oranges, chuckling to himself, knowing there was no way in you would toss your favorite fruits away. The day after that, a package of your favorite sweets. Din always included a note with each gift, and he made sure to mention a memory or the reasoning behind the gift.

Several days after leaving you the candy, he was making his way through the market when he felt a tug on his glove. He gazed down and saw his daughter standing next to him, shyly clutching the tip of his gloved finger.

“Hello, little one,” he greeted, and Dinah grinned.

“Hi, Din!”

“What are you doing out and about?” he asked, crouching down to her level.

“I was looking for you,” she exclaimed but suddenly turned shy. “I wanted to say thank you for the plushie.”

“You’re welcome,” he kindly spoke, his tone laced with a smile.

“Why are you wearing your armor?” she inquired, tilting her head in curiosity.

Blunt and to the point.

As always.

“I have a few jobs to do, and it’s safer if I wear it,” he answered.

“A job? Like catching bad guys?”

“Not quite,” he said with a chuckle. “Just keeping an eye on some people.”

It’s not exactly a lie.

In reality, Din had felt uneasy the last few days, as if someone were watching him, so he had decided to don his armor again, ensuring his helmet sat securely on his head every time he left his ship.

“Oh, okay,” Dinah acknowledged, eyes cast downward. “I was wondering….”

“Yes?”

“Um – would I – um – do you – um – could I spend the day with you?” The little girl shuffled her feet nervously, unsure how the man would respond to such a request. Din was surprised at her question and did not know how to answer it.

Does she know who I am to her?

“Is your mother alright with that?” he finally asked, not wanting to give you yet another reason to hate him.

“Mhm!” Dinah stated, arms now behind her back as she rocked back and forth on the balls of her feet. Of course, it was a blatant lie, but Din did not want to cause any more strife between the two of you.

I’ll bring her by in a bit.

“Well then,” he began, “I don’t see why not. What would you like to do?” Din watched in amusement as his daughter twisted her mouth here and there.

“Um – I – I want to know about your adventures!” she finally proclaimed. Din raised his eyebrows beneath the helmet, not expecting that.

“Uh – sure,” he responded as he stood up. “Let’s go somewhere quiet. What do you think?” She nodded and laced her tiny fingers with his, and Din’s throat grew tight.

Was this what things could be like one day?

The two of them navigated through the streets toward his ship, and once they arrived, Dinah’s eyes grew wide with awe.

“Is this yours?!” she excitedly asked, releasing his hand, and running up the now open ramp. He trailed behind her with a chuckle and nodded.

“It sure is.”

“Wow. We have one too, but it doesn’t look like this!” Din leaned against the wall, eyes following her little figure as she walked around and examined every detail of the small cargo hold. It was a sight to behold, one that he committed to memory in case he did not get another opportunity to spend time with his child.

My daughter.

Dinah continued to scurry around the ship, taking everything in as Din took a seat on a box.

“It’s so pretty,” she said, taking a seat beside him. Then, after a moment, she pointed to something in the corner. “What’s that?”

“What?” he asked, looking to where she pointed. “That’s the refresher.”

“Oh,” she replied, disappointed that it wasn’t anything interesting. As she looked at Din, she noticed the assortment of weapons he carried and stretched out a hand to poke his blaster. Din flinched at the action, unsure how he felt about his daughter touching something so dangerous.

“I don’t think you should be touching that,” he spoke. “It’s dangerous.” Dinah giggled and withdrew her hand.

“Mommy has a big one like this,” she retorted, rolling her eyes, “And I’ve seen her use it.” Din sighed at her statement.

For a six-year-old, she sure is sassy.

“Well, you should still be careful, little one,” he said. “I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“Okay,” she answered, looking around the ship some more. It was silent for a moment before she spoke again. “So, you do you catch bad guys and send them to jail?”

“Not exactly.”

“But you catch bad guys, right?”

“Yes.”

“What do you do with them?”

“I – uh – I take them to – well, I guess you could say that I take them to a jail of sorts.”

“That’s so cool!” Din awkwardly scratched the back of his neck at her enthusiasm.

“I suppose.”

“What’s that?” Dinah asked, pointing to something else on his waist. He looked down and saw her pointing at the Darksaber.

Of all things to ask about it.

He let out a long breath, composing his thoughts before answering the little girl’s question.

“It’s – um – it’s called a Darksaber,” he responded.

“Like a lightsaber?”

“Of sorts.”

“Why does it look like that? Aren’t lightsabers supposed to be pretty colors?”

“It’s not a regular one.”

“How come?”

“I’m – I’m not quite sure,” Din said.

“How did you get it?” Din’s eyes widened at her question. He was already uncomfortable talking about his weapons, and the painful memories of the Child came to mind with her inquiry.

“Uh – well,” he began, “I had to rescue someone very important to me.”

“Really?! Like an adventure?!” Dinah exclaimed, eyes teeming with excitement.

“I’m not sure I’d call it that, but sure,” he replied.

“Will you tell me about it?” the little girl pressed, “Momma always tells me stories before bed, and rescues are always so cool!” Din let out a heavy sigh, a quiet hiss breaking the silence as he removed his helmet and nodded at her plea. Within the confines of the ship, Din felt comfortable enough in its absence, especially when in the company of his daughter, who had already seen his face.

“Well, it started when…,” Din began.

―FLASHBACK―

Din stepped off the ship, blaster raised in preparation for an attack as he scanned the hanger for any threats. He stealthily snuck through the quiet halls of the base when he heard voices and hid in the shadows as two stormtroopers ran by.

“We’re heading to the bridge now.” Once they had passed, Din continued to make his way up the corridor until he reached the entrance to the chamber with the Darktroopers but found that the door was already open.

Dank farrik.

He quickly inserted the cylinder that began to override the door and make it shut, but one Darktrooper managed to catch it and throw him back, his body hitting the wall with a thud. Din fired at the machine as it marched toward him, but it was no use. The droid caught his arm, knocking the blaster out of his hand, and lifted him to his feet as it pulled its arm back and punched his helmet. Din shut his eyes in panic, bracing himself for the possible end at the hands of a droid, but as metal met Beskar, he opened his eyes and saw that his helmet had done its job, stopping the impact and protecting his face.

Unfortunately, the armor did nothing to prevent the machine’s relentless assault from pushing his head into the wall, and he yelped in pain as the pipe behind him burst, sending steam out, blocking part of the droid’s view. Din saw his opening and turned on his flamethrower, but it proved ineffective as the droid turned its head and flung him across the hallway. Din looked up, and his eyes widened, seeing the glass windows of the door that stopped the rest of the Darktroopers beginning to crack under the pounding of their fists. Din attempted to reach the lever that would blow the robots into space but was too slow. The droid grabbed his leg and slid him away from the panel across the floor. He tried to get up but was swiftly kicked in the stomach, sending him flying back, and felt the familiar pings of blaster shots landing on his armor.

The whispering birds!

With a flip of his wrist, Din launched little projectiles at the approaching machine before spinning around, gracefully grabbing his Beskar spear and piercing the Darktrooper through its neck. Sparks flew from the robot as it began to shut down, and with a final twist of the spear, Din pulled its head off, its body falling onto the floor with a metallic thud. He hastily walked up to the panel, glancing at the window as the cracks grew, and finally pulled the lever, sending the red-eyed figures into space. He breathed a sigh of relief as he continued down the hallways searching for the Child.

To his luck, it did not take long as he spotted two stormtroopers standing guard in front of a door.

Bingo.

He silently snuck up to the two, hitting one on the arm with his spear before impaling the other through the stomach in one fluid motion. Wasting no time, he placed the first stormtrooper in a hold, wedging the rod against the man’s neck and began to choke him, the soldier’s feet no longer on the ground as he struggled before a loud snap ended his thrashing. Din dropped the body and placed the pointed weapon on his back before opening the door and drawing his blaster. The sight that greeted him made the man abruptly stop, his blood running cold as he saw Moff Gideon threateningly holding a dark, whirring blade over Grogu’s head.

Is that the Darksaber Bo-Katan spoke of?

The Child looked up at Din with a sad coo and slightly lifted his bound hands. Din stepped forward but stopped as Moff Gideon spoke.

“Drop the blaster. Slowly.”

Din narrowed his eyes at the men through his visor as he slowly set it down.

“Now kick it over to me.” Din followed as instructed, the gun sliding across the floor away from him as Moff Gideon watched. “Very nice.”

“Give me the kid,” Din said.

“The kid is just fine where he is,” the Moff responded and waved the blade around Grogu’s head, the foundling turning his head away at the action. “Mesmerizing, isn’t it? Used to belong to Bo-Katan.”

Din looked on in silence, surprised that the man knew who Bo-Katan was.

“Yes. I know you’ve been traveling with Bo-Katan. A friendly piece of advice, assume that I know everything. Like the fact that your wrist launcher has fired its one and only salvo.”

Dank farrik, he’s good.

“Where is this going?” Din asked, beginning to grow agitated at the man.

“This is where it’s going. I’m guessing that Bo-Katan and her boarding party have arrived at the bridge, seeking me, or more accurately, this,” Gideon answered, holding up the sword. “But I’m not there. And I imagine that they’ve killed everyone on the bridge, being the murderous savages that they are. And now, they’re beginning to panic.”

Din’s gaze drifted to the Child as he cooed and looked down.

“You see, she wants this. Do you know why? Because it brings power. Whoever wields this sword has the right to lay claim to the Mandalorian throne.”

“You keep it. I just want the kid,” Din replied, growing more annoyed with each passing moment.

“Very well,” the Moff said as he pressed a button on the hilt and the blade retracted, “I’ve already got what I want from him. His blood. All I wanted was to study his blood. This Child is extremely gifted and has been blessed with rare properties that have the potential to bring order back to the galaxy.”

Din glanced down at the Child, knowing his words were true. Grogu was indeed gifted.

“I see your bond with him,” Moff Gideon spoke, his tone slightly changing, as if the man cared, “Take him, but you will leave my ship immediately, and we will go our separate ways.”

Din approached Grogu and began to pick him up, but the sudden sound of the Darksaber powering up and a blow landing on his jetpack threw him slightly off balance as he turned to shield the Child. The Moff came at him, swipe after swipe, the pings of the sword meeting steel filling the air, as Din held his arms up to block the impact of his assailant’s blade. Din backed away with each hit, drawing Gideon into the hallway and away from Grogu, and spun around the man to escape his reach. Din took a moment and then remembered that he had the spear, drawing it from his back, and prepared himself.

The two men lunged at each other, blade and metal meeting with a clang. Moff Gideon continuously swung the sword at Din, but he blocked each attack and managed to land a kick before throwing an attack of his own. They exchanged several more blows before Din launched his cable at the Moff, wrapping him in the wire that was easily cut through by the Darksaber.

Each strike Gideon tried to land was easily blocked, but Din saw a small opening and used his forearm to stop the next attack before thrusting the spear toward Gideon’s chest. The man caught it, but Din pushed him back, kicking him in the leg and knocking him against the wall. Din went for the kill, charging at the man, but he stopped again. However, this time Gideon made the mistake of pushing the tip away from him and toward the wall, placing it in the perfect position for Din to disarm him. The Darksaber flew across the air and landed with a thud, the blade disappearing with a whiz. With the man now disarmed, Din landed a hit to his face and knocked him down, and as he tried to get up, Din pointed the end of his spear at the man’s neck.

“You’re sparing my life?” Gideon asked with a smirk, “Well, this should be interesting.”

“Get up,” Din commanded, pulling the man to his feet and placing cuffs around his wrists. Knowing the man was too tired to try and escape, Din walked into the room and fetched Grogu, gingerly removing the cuffs and tossing them aside before picking him up and cradling him. Upon exiting the room, Din’s eye fell on the discarded weapon on the other end of the hall, and he strode over to pick it up carefully. Pressing the button to reveal the dark blade as it whooshed to life, he curiously waved the blade around, listening to the gentle hum as it cut through the air. A grunt from the Moff cut off his thoughts, and Din, not wanting to waste any time, nudged the man’s side with his foot.

“Let’s go,” Din commanded. Moff Gideon put up no resistance, and the two began to make their way toward the bridge.

After walking down several corridors, they finally arrived at the blast doors that led to the bridge, and with a final shove to Gideon’s back, the door opened, and the man stumbled through. As they walked in, Bo-Katan greeted them, but she did not look pleased.

“What happened?” the woman asked.

“He brought him in alive, that’s what happened,” Cara answered, greeting the Child tenderly, “And now the New Republic’s gonna have to double the payment.”

“That’s not what she’s talking about,” Moff Gideon cut in, drawing everyone’s attention, “Why don’t you kill him now and take it?”

Not liking what he was implying, Cara pushed the man to the ground, and he grinned as he looked up at Din.

“It’s yours now.”

“What is?” Din questioned.

“The Darksaber. It belongs to you,” came his reply. Bo-Katan’s eyes narrowed at the man’s words, and Din turned the weapon off and approached.

“Now,” he said, holding it out for her to take, “it belongs to her.”

“She can’t take it,” the Moff continued with glee at the predicament the woman was facing, “It must be won in battle. In order for her to wield the Darksaber again, she would need to defeat you in combat.”

“I yield,” Din stated, still holding the weapon out to her, “It’s yours.”

“Oh, no,” Gideon chuckled as he stood up to face Din, “It doesn’t work that way. The Darksaber doesn’t have power. The story does. Without that blade, she’s a pretender to the throne.”

“He’s right,” Bo-Katan finally said, conflict shining in her eyes at the desire to take the Darksaber and reclaim her throne and the defeat knowing that she had not earned it.

“Come on, just take it,” Din pushed. The woman looked down at the blade and back at him, but the shrill tone of the alarms cut them off.

―END FLASHBACK―

“So, you got the Darksaber and rescued Grogu, but then the Jedi took him away?” Dinah asked, legs swinging from the excitement of the story.

“Yeah,” Din answered, “He needed to be with his own people.”

“That’s too bad,” she spoke, “But at least you rescued him!”

“Yeah.”

“Would you rescue me if I was kidnapped?” Her words caught him by surprise.

“Of course, little one,” Din replied, “Your mother and I would come to save you no matter where you were.”

“I’m glad,” his daughter replied with a smile, “Mommy can get scary when she’s mad.”

“Yes, she can be,” Din agreed with a chuckle before realizing how much time had passed, “Well, I think it’s about time we get you home, don’t you think?” Dinah hopped off the crate and nodded.

“Thank you for today,” she said with a smile, and Din sent her one in return.

As they walked back to your home, Din could not remove the smile that graced his face. The afternoon he had spent with his daughter was one that he would cherish, as painful as it was to bring up memories of his foundling. Din had yet to tell her that he was her father and was unsure how to bring that up but knew he would do anything to protect her, just like he had done with Grogu.

  Unknown POV

For weeks they had tried to track down the illusive man, having managed to catch his scent when he arrived on Nevarro, but they had lost him again when they landed on Sacorria. They had scoured the planet for the Mandalorian, but his ship was too common looking to find, and so he disappeared from their radar. However, as luck would have it, after a month of searching for him, they spotted his armor in a busy bazaar. To their surprise, they saw him approach a little girl and they were even more stunned to see him remove his helmet.

Unfortunately, they only saw the back of his head from their vantage point, but it was enough to pique their interest and decide to watch the two more closely. They tailed the man for several days, seeing him go to the same house and leave gifts on the doorstep, further increasing their curiosity, but they knew that they could not directly confront him there, so they decided to focus on the little girl. Clearly, she was important to him if he was willing to remove his helmet around her, and as they observed the armored man interact with the little girl, a plan began to formulate in their mind, a sinister smile spreading across their face as pieces began to fall into place.

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I Don't Want To Miss A Thing

Chapter Eleven of Blast From The Past

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Rating: 18+

Word Count: 3k+

Summary: Din spends some time with Dinah, and she gets to know him a little more.

Warnings: ANGST angst angst angst, language, fluff, slow burn, mutual pining

Song: I Don’t Want To Miss A Thing by Aerosmith

Author's Note: Wow, it’s been a longggggggg time since I’ve posted an update. Life has gotten pretty crazy for me lately, and I’m sure you’ve been waiting for an update to this story for a while! Don’t worry, I haven’t abandoned this fic!

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Din’s POV

After his conversation with you, Din was lost and unsure what to do.

He had told you the truth of why he had left.

He had apologized.

And he had shown you his face, yet it was not enough.

Din knew that it would take time for you to come to terms with everything. After all, you had every right to be upset with him. But how long that would last was a different matter entirely.

Start small, he thought to himself. Din resolved to start with little things, gifts to show you that he was serious about staying and winning your affection back.

Maybe find a way to spend some time with her and Dinah.

He scrounged through his brain to remember the little things you liked, and he smiled at one of the first memories he had regarding your interests.

―FLASHBACK―

Din had been off tracking his latest quarry but had no luck that day, and he begrudgingly made the trek back to the Crest. As he lowered the ramp, he spotted you polishing his pulse rifle, and he felt a warmth bubble in his chest. He liked the way you looked at handling his weapon, and he inwardly chuckled at himself at his statement, and he willed his mind to crawl out of the gutter.

“No luck?” you spoke, and he felt your eyes trail after him as he began to climb the ladder to the cockpit.

“No,” he replied, slightly grumpy at the lack of progress with the bounty.

“I’m sure you’ll find them soon,” you reassured him, following him up the ladder. He took a seat in the passenger’s chair, thankful that you knew how to pilot the Crest, as he wanted a few moments to decompress as much as possible, although your presence sometimes made that difficult. He knew he had budding feelings for you but knew he would never act on them, though that did not prevent his mind from wandering. As you took a seat in the pilot’s chair, you looked at him questioningly, and he motioned for you to go to a different location on the planet. You nodded and quickly began to guide the Crest to another part of the sphere, and as the ship flew over a waterfall, Din heard you let out a sigh.

“What is it?” he inquired, curious at your reaction to the sight of the waterfall.

“Nothing,” came your reply, and he saw through your attempt at sounding nonchalant. He hummed in response, waiting for you to continue just like he knew you would.

“I just,” you spoke, pausing to release a sigh, “I used to draw as a child back on Corellia.” Your words caught Din off guard, and he looked at you through his visor, wanting to hear more.

“Whenever I had a chance, I could scribble down the image of a waterfall, sometimes imagining that I was sitting at the edge of a lake and just watching the water ripple over each other.” Din saw the faraway look in your eyes and closed his eyes, picturing the waterfall you had just flown over, a soft smile gracing his lips as he listened to your voice.

She wants to draw waterfalls and probably sunsets.

Interesting.

The sweet melody of your words gently pulled him to sleep, and he was shortly pulled into a light slumber before he could hear the rest of what you were saying.

―END FLASHBACK―

Din’s lip quirked as the memory, recalling how your eyes sparkled every time you would speak of waterfalls or sunsets, shamelessly telling him of your dream to sit on the shore of a lake and capture the beauty of the world around you. The thought of giving you what you had dreamed of came to him, and he instantly knew what his first gift to you would be.

A sketchbook.

Tracking down a vendor that sold sketchbooks was not a simple task, but Din managed to find one. He had taken his time studying the unique designs on each cover until one caught his eye. A leather-bound sketchpad sat on the corner of a table, an elaborate pattern of a forest and flowers on the front cover and a waterfall flowing into a lake on the back.

It’s perfect.

He hastily bought the sketchbook and several other items and made his way back to his ship. Once aboard the vessel, he took a seat in the cargo hold and began to write a list of other gifts to give you before composing a note to include with the sketchpad. Din sat and thought long and hard about what to say, wanting to make it as heartfelt as possible. After a few moments, he finally put pen to paper and began to scribble down his love letter.

That should be enough, he thought, looking down at his handiwork. Din started to assemble the present, gently slipping his note inside the book and placing both into a box with a small sigh.

Now the question is, when do I give it to her?

―THREE DAYS LATER―

Three days came and went when Din finally decided to drop off the first of several gifts to you. Just as the hues of the sun began to peek over the horizon, he found himself awkwardly standing at your doorstep, clad in his armor, box in hand. He could hear you getting Dinah ready for the day, your voice sleepily ringing throughout your home, and a small smile crept onto his face.

It’s now or never.

Hesitantly, he lifted his hand and made to knock on your door but stopped.

Kriff, should I hand it to her or just leave it here?

No, she would probably throw it at me if I gave it to her.

Din let out a sigh, set the package down, and straightened himself back up. He stared at your door for another moment, contemplating if he was making a huge mistake, but then made up his mind and softly knocked. Not wanting to risk the chance of you opening the door to find him still positioned there, he quickly walked away and posted himself far enough away to see you but hidden from your sight. He watched the entrance slide open and his breath caught in his throat as you appeared and spotted his gift on the ground. Din’s heart loudly beat in his chest at the way your hair swept across your face with the light breeze, and your eyes darted around the street, trying to find the source of the mysterious package outside your home. He patiently waited for you to pick up the box and retreat inside before making his exit, hoping and praying that you wouldn’t throw it into the trash.

That would make tomorrow’s peace offering completely useless.

As Din walked through the town, a vendor stand caught his attention, and he changed course for it. He studied the assortment of objects and, after some deliberation, decided on one in particular. Din bought the new surprise and continued on his way through the village, stopping by now and then to buy supplies and a few more gifts he knew you would appreciate. At least he hoped you would appreciate them.

This next week is going to be a busy one.

He dropped off a brand-new set of colored pencils and charcoal the next day and a bouquet the day after that. However, this time he included a gift for Dinah, a plushie of a porg, with a floral arrangement. His heart warmed as he imagined her reaction to seeing the new toy, and he wanted nothing more than to be there to witness it.

Maybe someday.

The day after the flowers and plushie, he left a bag of apples and oranges, chuckling to himself, knowing there was no way in you would toss your favorite fruits away. The day after that, a package of your favorite sweets. Din always included a note with each gift, and he made sure to mention a memory or the reasoning behind the gift.

Several days after leaving you the candy, he was making his way through the market when he felt a tug on his glove. He gazed down and saw his daughter standing next to him, shyly clutching the tip of his gloved finger.

“Hello, little one,” he greeted, and Dinah grinned.

“Hi, Din!”

“What are you doing out and about?” he asked, crouching down to her level.

“I was looking for you,” she exclaimed but suddenly turned shy. “I wanted to say thank you for the plushie.”

“You’re welcome,” he kindly spoke, his tone laced with a smile.

“Why are you wearing your armor?” she inquired, tilting her head in curiosity.

Blunt and to the point.

As always.

“I have a few jobs to do, and it’s safer if I wear it,” he answered.

“A job? Like catching bad guys?”

“Not quite,” he said with a chuckle. “Just keeping an eye on some people.”

It’s not exactly a lie.

In reality, Din had felt uneasy the last few days, as if someone were watching him, so he had decided to don his armor again, ensuring his helmet sat securely on his head every time he left his ship.

“Oh, okay,” Dinah acknowledged, eyes cast downward. “I was wondering….”

“Yes?”

“Um – would I – um – do you – um – could I spend the day with you?” The little girl shuffled her feet nervously, unsure how the man would respond to such a request. Din was surprised at her question and did not know how to answer it.

Does she know who I am to her?

“Is your mother alright with that?” he finally asked, not wanting to give you yet another reason to hate him.

“Mhm!” Dinah stated, arms now behind her back as she rocked back and forth on the balls of her feet. Of course, it was a blatant lie, but Din did not want to cause any more strife between the two of you.

I’ll bring her by in a bit.

“Well then,” he began, “I don’t see why not. What would you like to do?” Din watched in amusement as his daughter twisted her mouth here and there.

“Um – I – I want to know about your adventures!” she finally proclaimed. Din raised his eyebrows beneath the helmet, not expecting that.

“Uh – sure,” he responded as he stood up. “Let’s go somewhere quiet. What do you think?” She nodded and laced her tiny fingers with his, and Din’s throat grew tight.

Was this what things could be like one day?

The two of them navigated through the streets toward his ship, and once they arrived, Dinah’s eyes grew wide with awe.

“Is this yours?!” she excitedly asked, releasing his hand, and running up the now open ramp. He trailed behind her with a chuckle and nodded.

“It sure is.”

“Wow. We have one too, but it doesn’t look like this!” Din leaned against the wall, eyes following her little figure as she walked around and examined every detail of the small cargo hold. It was a sight to behold, one that he committed to memory in case he did not get another opportunity to spend time with his child.

My daughter.

Dinah continued to scurry around the ship, taking everything in as Din took a seat on a box.

“It’s so pretty,” she said, taking a seat beside him. Then, after a moment, she pointed to something in the corner. “What’s that?”

“What?” he asked, looking to where she pointed. “That’s the refresher.”

“Oh,” she replied, disappointed that it wasn’t anything interesting. As she looked at Din, she noticed the assortment of weapons he carried and stretched out a hand to poke his blaster. Din flinched at the action, unsure how he felt about his daughter touching something so dangerous.

“I don’t think you should be touching that,” he spoke. “It’s dangerous.” Dinah giggled and withdrew her hand.

“Mommy has a big one like this,” she retorted, rolling her eyes, “And I’ve seen her use it.” Din sighed at her statement.

For a six-year-old, she sure is sassy.

“Well, you should still be careful, little one,” he said. “I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“Okay,” she answered, looking around the ship some more. It was silent for a moment before she spoke again. “So, you do you catch bad guys and send them to jail?”

“Not exactly.”

“But you catch bad guys, right?”

“Yes.”

“What do you do with them?”

“I – uh – I take them to – well, I guess you could say that I take them to a jail of sorts.”

“That’s so cool!” Din awkwardly scratched the back of his neck at her enthusiasm.

“I suppose.”

“What’s that?” Dinah asked, pointing to something else on his waist. He looked down and saw her pointing at the Darksaber.

Of all things to ask about it.

He let out a long breath, composing his thoughts before answering the little girl’s question.

“It’s – um – it’s called a Darksaber,” he responded.

“Like a lightsaber?”

“Of sorts.”

“Why does it look like that? Aren’t lightsabers supposed to be pretty colors?”

“It’s not a regular one.”

“How come?”

“I’m – I’m not quite sure,” Din said.

“How did you get it?” Din’s eyes widened at her question. He was already uncomfortable talking about his weapons, and the painful memories of the Child came to mind with her inquiry.

“Uh – well,” he began, “I had to rescue someone very important to me.”

“Really?! Like an adventure?!” Dinah exclaimed, eyes teeming with excitement.

“I’m not sure I’d call it that, but sure,” he replied.

“Will you tell me about it?” the little girl pressed, “Momma always tells me stories before bed, and rescues are always so cool!” Din let out a heavy sigh, a quiet hiss breaking the silence as he removed his helmet and nodded at her plea. Within the confines of the ship, Din felt comfortable enough in its absence, especially when in the company of his daughter, who had already seen his face.

“Well, it started when…,” Din began.

―FLASHBACK―

Din stepped off the ship, blaster raised in preparation for an attack as he scanned the hanger for any threats. He stealthily snuck through the quiet halls of the base when he heard voices and hid in the shadows as two stormtroopers ran by.

“We’re heading to the bridge now.” Once they had passed, Din continued to make his way up the corridor until he reached the entrance to the chamber with the Darktroopers but found that the door was already open.

Dank farrik.

He quickly inserted the cylinder that began to override the door and make it shut, but one Darktrooper managed to catch it and throw him back, his body hitting the wall with a thud. Din fired at the machine as it marched toward him, but it was no use. The droid caught his arm, knocking the blaster out of his hand, and lifted him to his feet as it pulled its arm back and punched his helmet. Din shut his eyes in panic, bracing himself for the possible end at the hands of a droid, but as metal met Beskar, he opened his eyes and saw that his helmet had done its job, stopping the impact and protecting his face.

Unfortunately, the armor did nothing to prevent the machine’s relentless assault from pushing his head into the wall, and he yelped in pain as the pipe behind him burst, sending steam out, blocking part of the droid’s view. Din saw his opening and turned on his flamethrower, but it proved ineffective as the droid turned its head and flung him across the hallway. Din looked up, and his eyes widened, seeing the glass windows of the door that stopped the rest of the Darktroopers beginning to crack under the pounding of their fists. Din attempted to reach the lever that would blow the robots into space but was too slow. The droid grabbed his leg and slid him away from the panel across the floor. He tried to get up but was swiftly kicked in the stomach, sending him flying back, and felt the familiar pings of blaster shots landing on his armor.

The whispering birds!

With a flip of his wrist, Din launched little projectiles at the approaching machine before spinning around, gracefully grabbing his Beskar spear and piercing the Darktrooper through its neck. Sparks flew from the robot as it began to shut down, and with a final twist of the spear, Din pulled its head off, its body falling onto the floor with a metallic thud. He hastily walked up to the panel, glancing at the window as the cracks grew, and finally pulled the lever, sending the red-eyed figures into space. He breathed a sigh of relief as he continued down the hallways searching for the Child.

To his luck, it did not take long as he spotted two stormtroopers standing guard in front of a door.

Bingo.

He silently snuck up to the two, hitting one on the arm with his spear before impaling the other through the stomach in one fluid motion. Wasting no time, he placed the first stormtrooper in a hold, wedging the rod against the man’s neck and began to choke him, the soldier’s feet no longer on the ground as he struggled before a loud snap ended his thrashing. Din dropped the body and placed the pointed weapon on his back before opening the door and drawing his blaster. The sight that greeted him made the man abruptly stop, his blood running cold as he saw Moff Gideon threateningly holding a dark, whirring blade over Grogu’s head.

Is that the Darksaber Bo-Katan spoke of?

The Child looked up at Din with a sad coo and slightly lifted his bound hands. Din stepped forward but stopped as Moff Gideon spoke.

“Drop the blaster. Slowly.”

Din narrowed his eyes at the men through his visor as he slowly set it down.

“Now kick it over to me.” Din followed as instructed, the gun sliding across the floor away from him as Moff Gideon watched. “Very nice.”

“Give me the kid,” Din said.

“The kid is just fine where he is,” the Moff responded and waved the blade around Grogu’s head, the foundling turning his head away at the action. “Mesmerizing, isn’t it? Used to belong to Bo-Katan.”

Din looked on in silence, surprised that the man knew who Bo-Katan was.

“Yes. I know you’ve been traveling with Bo-Katan. A friendly piece of advice, assume that I know everything. Like the fact that your wrist launcher has fired its one and only salvo.”

Dank farrik, he’s good.

“Where is this going?” Din asked, beginning to grow agitated at the man.

“This is where it’s going. I’m guessing that Bo-Katan and her boarding party have arrived at the bridge, seeking me, or more accurately, this,” Gideon answered, holding up the sword. “But I’m not there. And I imagine that they’ve killed everyone on the bridge, being the murderous savages that they are. And now, they’re beginning to panic.”

Din’s gaze drifted to the Child as he cooed and looked down.

“You see, she wants this. Do you know why? Because it brings power. Whoever wields this sword has the right to lay claim to the Mandalorian throne.”

“You keep it. I just want the kid,” Din replied, growing more annoyed with each passing moment.

“Very well,” the Moff said as he pressed a button on the hilt and the blade retracted, “I’ve already got what I want from him. His blood. All I wanted was to study his blood. This Child is extremely gifted and has been blessed with rare properties that have the potential to bring order back to the galaxy.”

Din glanced down at the Child, knowing his words were true. Grogu was indeed gifted.

“I see your bond with him,” Moff Gideon spoke, his tone slightly changing, as if the man cared, “Take him, but you will leave my ship immediately, and we will go our separate ways.”

Din approached Grogu and began to pick him up, but the sudden sound of the Darksaber powering up and a blow landing on his jetpack threw him slightly off balance as he turned to shield the Child. The Moff came at him, swipe after swipe, the pings of the sword meeting steel filling the air, as Din held his arms up to block the impact of his assailant’s blade. Din backed away with each hit, drawing Gideon into the hallway and away from Grogu, and spun around the man to escape his reach. Din took a moment and then remembered that he had the spear, drawing it from his back, and prepared himself.

The two men lunged at each other, blade and metal meeting with a clang. Moff Gideon continuously swung the sword at Din, but he blocked each attack and managed to land a kick before throwing an attack of his own. They exchanged several more blows before Din launched his cable at the Moff, wrapping him in the wire that was easily cut through by the Darksaber.

Each strike Gideon tried to land was easily blocked, but Din saw a small opening and used his forearm to stop the next attack before thrusting the spear toward Gideon’s chest. The man caught it, but Din pushed him back, kicking him in the leg and knocking him against the wall. Din went for the kill, charging at the man, but he stopped again. However, this time Gideon made the mistake of pushing the tip away from him and toward the wall, placing it in the perfect position for Din to disarm him. The Darksaber flew across the air and landed with a thud, the blade disappearing with a whiz. With the man now disarmed, Din landed a hit to his face and knocked him down, and as he tried to get up, Din pointed the end of his spear at the man’s neck.

“You’re sparing my life?” Gideon asked with a smirk, “Well, this should be interesting.”

“Get up,” Din commanded, pulling the man to his feet and placing cuffs around his wrists. Knowing the man was too tired to try and escape, Din walked into the room and fetched Grogu, gingerly removing the cuffs and tossing them aside before picking him up and cradling him. Upon exiting the room, Din’s eye fell on the discarded weapon on the other end of the hall, and he strode over to pick it up carefully. Pressing the button to reveal the dark blade as it whooshed to life, he curiously waved the blade around, listening to the gentle hum as it cut through the air. A grunt from the Moff cut off his thoughts, and Din, not wanting to waste any time, nudged the man’s side with his foot.

“Let’s go,” Din commanded. Moff Gideon put up no resistance, and the two began to make their way toward the bridge.

After walking down several corridors, they finally arrived at the blast doors that led to the bridge, and with a final shove to Gideon’s back, the door opened, and the man stumbled through. As they walked in, Bo-Katan greeted them, but she did not look pleased.

“What happened?” the woman asked.

“He brought him in alive, that’s what happened,” Cara answered, greeting the Child tenderly, “And now the New Republic’s gonna have to double the payment.”

“That’s not what she’s talking about,” Moff Gideon cut in, drawing everyone’s attention, “Why don’t you kill him now and take it?”

Not liking what he was implying, Cara pushed the man to the ground, and he grinned as he looked up at Din.

“It’s yours now.”

“What is?” Din questioned.

“The Darksaber. It belongs to you,” came his reply. Bo-Katan’s eyes narrowed at the man’s words, and Din turned the weapon off and approached.

“Now,” he said, holding it out for her to take, “it belongs to her.”

“She can’t take it,” the Moff continued with glee at the predicament the woman was facing, “It must be won in battle. In order for her to wield the Darksaber again, she would need to defeat you in combat.”

“I yield,” Din stated, still holding the weapon out to her, “It’s yours.”

“Oh, no,” Gideon chuckled as he stood up to face Din, “It doesn’t work that way. The Darksaber doesn’t have power. The story does. Without that blade, she’s a pretender to the throne.”

“He’s right,” Bo-Katan finally said, conflict shining in her eyes at the desire to take the Darksaber and reclaim her throne and the defeat knowing that she had not earned it.

“Come on, just take it,” Din pushed. The woman looked down at the blade and back at him, but the shrill tone of the alarms cut them off.

―END FLASHBACK―

“So, you got the Darksaber and rescued Grogu, but then the Jedi took him away?” Dinah asked, legs swinging from the excitement of the story.

“Yeah,” Din answered, “He needed to be with his own people.”

“That’s too bad,” she spoke, “But at least you rescued him!”

“Yeah.”

“Would you rescue me if I was kidnapped?” Her words caught him by surprise.

“Of course, little one,” Din replied, “Your mother and I would come to save you no matter where you were.”

“I’m glad,” his daughter replied with a smile, “Mommy can get scary when she’s mad.”

“Yes, she can be,” Din agreed with a chuckle before realizing how much time had passed, “Well, I think it’s about time we get you home, don’t you think?” Dinah hopped off the crate and nodded.

“Thank you for today,” she said with a smile, and Din sent her one in return.

As they walked back to your home, Din could not remove the smile that graced his face. The afternoon he had spent with his daughter was one that he would cherish, as painful as it was to bring up memories of his foundling. Din had yet to tell her that he was her father and was unsure how to bring that up but knew he would do anything to protect her, just like he had done with Grogu.

  Unknown POV

For weeks they had tried to track down the illusive man, having managed to catch his scent when he arrived on Nevarro, but they had lost him again when they landed on Sacorria. They had scoured the planet for the Mandalorian, but his ship was too common looking to find, and so he disappeared from their radar. However, as luck would have it, after a month of searching for him, they spotted his armor in a busy bazaar. To their surprise, they saw him approach a little girl and they were even more stunned to see him remove his helmet.

Unfortunately, they only saw the back of his head from their vantage point, but it was enough to pique their interest and decide to watch the two more closely. They tailed the man for several days, seeing him go to the same house and leave gifts on the doorstep, further increasing their curiosity, but they knew that they could not directly confront him there, so they decided to focus on the little girl. Clearly, she was important to him if he was willing to remove his helmet around her, and as they observed the armored man interact with the little girl, a plan began to formulate in their mind, a sinister smile spreading across their face as pieces began to fall into place.

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I Don't Want To Miss A Thing

Chapter Eleven of Blast From The Past

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Rating: 18+

Word Count: 3k+

Summary: Din spends some time with Dinah, and she gets to know him a little more.

Warnings: ANGST angst angst angst, language, fluff, slow burn, mutual pining

Song: I Don’t Want To Miss A Thing by Aerosmith

Author's Note: Wow, it’s been a longggggggg time since I’ve posted an update. Life has gotten pretty crazy for me lately, and I’m sure you’ve been waiting for an update to this story for a while! Don’t worry, I haven’t abandoned this fic!

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Din’s POV

After his conversation with you, Din was lost and unsure what to do.

He had told you the truth of why he had left.

He had apologized.

And he had shown you his face, yet it was not enough.

Din knew that it would take time for you to come to terms with everything. After all, you had every right to be upset with him. But how long that would last was a different matter entirely.

Start small, he thought to himself. Din resolved to start with little things, gifts to show you that he was serious about staying and winning your affection back.

Maybe find a way to spend some time with her and Dinah.

He scrounged through his brain to remember the little things you liked, and he smiled at one of the first memories he had regarding your interests.

―FLASHBACK―

Din had been off tracking his latest quarry but had no luck that day, and he begrudgingly made the trek back to the Crest. As he lowered the ramp, he spotted you polishing his pulse rifle, and he felt a warmth bubble in his chest. He liked the way you looked at handling his weapon, and he inwardly chuckled at himself at his statement, and he willed his mind to crawl out of the gutter.

“No luck?” you spoke, and he felt your eyes trail after him as he began to climb the ladder to the cockpit.

“No,” he replied, slightly grumpy at the lack of progress with the bounty.

“I’m sure you’ll find them soon,” you reassured him, following him up the ladder. He took a seat in the passenger’s chair, thankful that you knew how to pilot the Crest, as he wanted a few moments to decompress as much as possible, although your presence sometimes made that difficult. He knew he had budding feelings for you but knew he would never act on them, though that did not prevent his mind from wandering. As you took a seat in the pilot’s chair, you looked at him questioningly, and he motioned for you to go to a different location on the planet. You nodded and quickly began to guide the Crest to another part of the sphere, and as the ship flew over a waterfall, Din heard you let out a sigh.

“What is it?” he inquired, curious at your reaction to the sight of the waterfall.

“Nothing,” came your reply, and he saw through your attempt at sounding nonchalant. He hummed in response, waiting for you to continue just like he knew you would.

“I just,” you spoke, pausing to release a sigh, “I used to draw as a child back on Corellia.” Your words caught Din off guard, and he looked at you through his visor, wanting to hear more.

“Whenever I had a chance, I could scribble down the image of a waterfall, sometimes imagining that I was sitting at the edge of a lake and just watching the water ripple over each other.” Din saw the faraway look in your eyes and closed his eyes, picturing the waterfall you had just flown over, a soft smile gracing his lips as he listened to your voice.

She wants to draw waterfalls and probably sunsets.

Interesting.

The sweet melody of your words gently pulled him to sleep, and he was shortly pulled into a light slumber before he could hear the rest of what you were saying.

―END FLASHBACK―

Din’s lip quirked as the memory, recalling how your eyes sparkled every time you would speak of waterfalls or sunsets, shamelessly telling him of your dream to sit on the shore of a lake and capture the beauty of the world around you. The thought of giving you what you had dreamed of came to him, and he instantly knew what his first gift to you would be.

A sketchbook.

Tracking down a vendor that sold sketchbooks was not a simple task, but Din managed to find one. He had taken his time studying the unique designs on each cover until one caught his eye. A leather-bound sketchpad sat on the corner of a table, an elaborate pattern of a forest and flowers on the front cover and a waterfall flowing into a lake on the back.

It’s perfect.

He hastily bought the sketchbook and several other items and made his way back to his ship. Once aboard the vessel, he took a seat in the cargo hold and began to write a list of other gifts to give you before composing a note to include with the sketchpad. Din sat and thought long and hard about what to say, wanting to make it as heartfelt as possible. After a few moments, he finally put pen to paper and began to scribble down his love letter.

That should be enough, he thought, looking down at his handiwork. Din started to assemble the present, gently slipping his note inside the book and placing both into a box with a small sigh.

Now the question is, when do I give it to her?

―THREE DAYS LATER―

Three days came and went when Din finally decided to drop off the first of several gifts to you. Just as the hues of the sun began to peek over the horizon, he found himself awkwardly standing at your doorstep, clad in his armor, box in hand. He could hear you getting Dinah ready for the day, your voice sleepily ringing throughout your home, and a small smile crept onto his face.

It’s now or never.

Hesitantly, he lifted his hand and made to knock on your door but stopped.

Kriff, should I hand it to her or just leave it here?

No, she would probably throw it at me if I gave it to her.

Din let out a sigh, set the package down, and straightened himself back up. He stared at your door for another moment, contemplating if he was making a huge mistake, but then made up his mind and softly knocked. Not wanting to risk the chance of you opening the door to find him still positioned there, he quickly walked away and posted himself far enough away to see you but hidden from your sight. He watched the entrance slide open and his breath caught in his throat as you appeared and spotted his gift on the ground. Din’s heart loudly beat in his chest at the way your hair swept across your face with the light breeze, and your eyes darted around the street, trying to find the source of the mysterious package outside your home. He patiently waited for you to pick up the box and retreat inside before making his exit, hoping and praying that you wouldn’t throw it into the trash.

That would make tomorrow’s peace offering completely useless.

As Din walked through the town, a vendor stand caught his attention, and he changed course for it. He studied the assortment of objects and, after some deliberation, decided on one in particular. Din bought the new surprise and continued on his way through the village, stopping by now and then to buy supplies and a few more gifts he knew you would appreciate. At least he hoped you would appreciate them.

This next week is going to be a busy one.

He dropped off a brand-new set of colored pencils and charcoal the next day and a bouquet the day after that. However, this time he included a gift for Dinah, a plushie of a porg, with a floral arrangement. His heart warmed as he imagined her reaction to seeing the new toy, and he wanted nothing more than to be there to witness it.

Maybe someday.

The day after the flowers and plushie, he left a bag of apples and oranges, chuckling to himself, knowing there was no way in you would toss your favorite fruits away. The day after that, a package of your favorite sweets. Din always included a note with each gift, and he made sure to mention a memory or the reasoning behind the gift.

Several days after leaving you the candy, he was making his way through the market when he felt a tug on his glove. He gazed down and saw his daughter standing next to him, shyly clutching the tip of his gloved finger.

“Hello, little one,” he greeted, and Dinah grinned.

“Hi, Din!”

“What are you doing out and about?” he asked, crouching down to her level.

“I was looking for you,” she exclaimed but suddenly turned shy. “I wanted to say thank you for the plushie.”

“You’re welcome,” he kindly spoke, his tone laced with a smile.

“Why are you wearing your armor?” she inquired, tilting her head in curiosity.

Blunt and to the point.

As always.

“I have a few jobs to do, and it’s safer if I wear it,” he answered.

“A job? Like catching bad guys?”

“Not quite,” he said with a chuckle. “Just keeping an eye on some people.”

It’s not exactly a lie.

In reality, Din had felt uneasy the last few days, as if someone were watching him, so he had decided to don his armor again, ensuring his helmet sat securely on his head every time he left his ship.

“Oh, okay,” Dinah acknowledged, eyes cast downward. “I was wondering….”

“Yes?”

“Um – would I – um – do you – um – could I spend the day with you?” The little girl shuffled her feet nervously, unsure how the man would respond to such a request. Din was surprised at her question and did not know how to answer it.

Does she know who I am to her?

“Is your mother alright with that?” he finally asked, not wanting to give you yet another reason to hate him.

“Mhm!” Dinah stated, arms now behind her back as she rocked back and forth on the balls of her feet. Of course, it was a blatant lie, but Din did not want to cause any more strife between the two of you.

I’ll bring her by in a bit.

“Well then,” he began, “I don’t see why not. What would you like to do?” Din watched in amusement as his daughter twisted her mouth here and there.

“Um – I – I want to know about your adventures!” she finally proclaimed. Din raised his eyebrows beneath the helmet, not expecting that.

“Uh – sure,” he responded as he stood up. “Let’s go somewhere quiet. What do you think?” She nodded and laced her tiny fingers with his, and Din’s throat grew tight.

Was this what things could be like one day?

The two of them navigated through the streets toward his ship, and once they arrived, Dinah’s eyes grew wide with awe.

“Is this yours?!” she excitedly asked, releasing his hand, and running up the now open ramp. He trailed behind her with a chuckle and nodded.

“It sure is.”

“Wow. We have one too, but it doesn’t look like this!” Din leaned against the wall, eyes following her little figure as she walked around and examined every detail of the small cargo hold. It was a sight to behold, one that he committed to memory in case he did not get another opportunity to spend time with his child.

My daughter.

Dinah continued to scurry around the ship, taking everything in as Din took a seat on a box.

“It’s so pretty,” she said, taking a seat beside him. Then, after a moment, she pointed to something in the corner. “What’s that?”

“What?” he asked, looking to where she pointed. “That’s the refresher.”

“Oh,” she replied, disappointed that it wasn’t anything interesting. As she looked at Din, she noticed the assortment of weapons he carried and stretched out a hand to poke his blaster. Din flinched at the action, unsure how he felt about his daughter touching something so dangerous.

“I don’t think you should be touching that,” he spoke. “It’s dangerous.” Dinah giggled and withdrew her hand.

“Mommy has a big one like this,” she retorted, rolling her eyes, “And I’ve seen her use it.” Din sighed at her statement.

For a six-year-old, she sure is sassy.

“Well, you should still be careful, little one,” he said. “I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“Okay,” she answered, looking around the ship some more. It was silent for a moment before she spoke again. “So, you do you catch bad guys and send them to jail?”

“Not exactly.”

“But you catch bad guys, right?”

“Yes.”

“What do you do with them?”

“I – uh – I take them to – well, I guess you could say that I take them to a jail of sorts.”

“That’s so cool!” Din awkwardly scratched the back of his neck at her enthusiasm.

“I suppose.”

“What’s that?” Dinah asked, pointing to something else on his waist. He looked down and saw her pointing at the Darksaber.

Of all things to ask about it.

He let out a long breath, composing his thoughts before answering the little girl’s question.

“It’s – um – it’s called a Darksaber,” he responded.

“Like a lightsaber?”

“Of sorts.”

“Why does it look like that? Aren’t lightsabers supposed to be pretty colors?”

“It’s not a regular one.”

“How come?”

“I’m – I’m not quite sure,” Din said.

“How did you get it?” Din’s eyes widened at her question. He was already uncomfortable talking about his weapons, and the painful memories of the Child came to mind with her inquiry.

“Uh – well,” he began, “I had to rescue someone very important to me.”

“Really?! Like an adventure?!” Dinah exclaimed, eyes teeming with excitement.

“I’m not sure I’d call it that, but sure,” he replied.

“Will you tell me about it?” the little girl pressed, “Momma always tells me stories before bed, and rescues are always so cool!” Din let out a heavy sigh, a quiet hiss breaking the silence as he removed his helmet and nodded at her plea. Within the confines of the ship, Din felt comfortable enough in its absence, especially when in the company of his daughter, who had already seen his face.

“Well, it started when…,” Din began.

―FLASHBACK―

Din stepped off the ship, blaster raised in preparation for an attack as he scanned the hanger for any threats. He stealthily snuck through the quiet halls of the base when he heard voices and hid in the shadows as two stormtroopers ran by.

“We’re heading to the bridge now.” Once they had passed, Din continued to make his way up the corridor until he reached the entrance to the chamber with the Darktroopers but found that the door was already open.

Dank farrik.

He quickly inserted the cylinder that began to override the door and make it shut, but one Darktrooper managed to catch it and throw him back, his body hitting the wall with a thud. Din fired at the machine as it marched toward him, but it was no use. The droid caught his arm, knocking the blaster out of his hand, and lifted him to his feet as it pulled its arm back and punched his helmet. Din shut his eyes in panic, bracing himself for the possible end at the hands of a droid, but as metal met Beskar, he opened his eyes and saw that his helmet had done its job, stopping the impact and protecting his face.

Unfortunately, the armor did nothing to prevent the machine’s relentless assault from pushing his head into the wall, and he yelped in pain as the pipe behind him burst, sending steam out, blocking part of the droid’s view. Din saw his opening and turned on his flamethrower, but it proved ineffective as the droid turned its head and flung him across the hallway. Din looked up, and his eyes widened, seeing the glass windows of the door that stopped the rest of the Darktroopers beginning to crack under the pounding of their fists. Din attempted to reach the lever that would blow the robots into space but was too slow. The droid grabbed his leg and slid him away from the panel across the floor. He tried to get up but was swiftly kicked in the stomach, sending him flying back, and felt the familiar pings of blaster shots landing on his armor.

The whispering birds!

With a flip of his wrist, Din launched little projectiles at the approaching machine before spinning around, gracefully grabbing his Beskar spear and piercing the Darktrooper through its neck. Sparks flew from the robot as it began to shut down, and with a final twist of the spear, Din pulled its head off, its body falling onto the floor with a metallic thud. He hastily walked up to the panel, glancing at the window as the cracks grew, and finally pulled the lever, sending the red-eyed figures into space. He breathed a sigh of relief as he continued down the hallways searching for the Child.

To his luck, it did not take long as he spotted two stormtroopers standing guard in front of a door.

Bingo.

He silently snuck up to the two, hitting one on the arm with his spear before impaling the other through the stomach in one fluid motion. Wasting no time, he placed the first stormtrooper in a hold, wedging the rod against the man’s neck and began to choke him, the soldier’s feet no longer on the ground as he struggled before a loud snap ended his thrashing. Din dropped the body and placed the pointed weapon on his back before opening the door and drawing his blaster. The sight that greeted him made the man abruptly stop, his blood running cold as he saw Moff Gideon threateningly holding a dark, whirring blade over Grogu’s head.

Is that the Darksaber Bo-Katan spoke of?

The Child looked up at Din with a sad coo and slightly lifted his bound hands. Din stepped forward but stopped as Moff Gideon spoke.

“Drop the blaster. Slowly.”

Din narrowed his eyes at the men through his visor as he slowly set it down.

“Now kick it over to me.” Din followed as instructed, the gun sliding across the floor away from him as Moff Gideon watched. “Very nice.”

“Give me the kid,” Din said.

“The kid is just fine where he is,” the Moff responded and waved the blade around Grogu’s head, the foundling turning his head away at the action. “Mesmerizing, isn’t it? Used to belong to Bo-Katan.”

Din looked on in silence, surprised that the man knew who Bo-Katan was.

“Yes. I know you’ve been traveling with Bo-Katan. A friendly piece of advice, assume that I know everything. Like the fact that your wrist launcher has fired its one and only salvo.”

Dank farrik, he’s good.

“Where is this going?” Din asked, beginning to grow agitated at the man.

“This is where it’s going. I’m guessing that Bo-Katan and her boarding party have arrived at the bridge, seeking me, or more accurately, this,” Gideon answered, holding up the sword. “But I’m not there. And I imagine that they’ve killed everyone on the bridge, being the murderous savages that they are. And now, they’re beginning to panic.”

Din’s gaze drifted to the Child as he cooed and looked down.

“You see, she wants this. Do you know why? Because it brings power. Whoever wields this sword has the right to lay claim to the Mandalorian throne.”

“You keep it. I just want the kid,” Din replied, growing more annoyed with each passing moment.

“Very well,” the Moff said as he pressed a button on the hilt and the blade retracted, “I’ve already got what I want from him. His blood. All I wanted was to study his blood. This Child is extremely gifted and has been blessed with rare properties that have the potential to bring order back to the galaxy.”

Din glanced down at the Child, knowing his words were true. Grogu was indeed gifted.

“I see your bond with him,” Moff Gideon spoke, his tone slightly changing, as if the man cared, “Take him, but you will leave my ship immediately, and we will go our separate ways.”

Din approached Grogu and began to pick him up, but the sudden sound of the Darksaber powering up and a blow landing on his jetpack threw him slightly off balance as he turned to shield the Child. The Moff came at him, swipe after swipe, the pings of the sword meeting steel filling the air, as Din held his arms up to block the impact of his assailant’s blade. Din backed away with each hit, drawing Gideon into the hallway and away from Grogu, and spun around the man to escape his reach. Din took a moment and then remembered that he had the spear, drawing it from his back, and prepared himself.

The two men lunged at each other, blade and metal meeting with a clang. Moff Gideon continuously swung the sword at Din, but he blocked each attack and managed to land a kick before throwing an attack of his own. They exchanged several more blows before Din launched his cable at the Moff, wrapping him in the wire that was easily cut through by the Darksaber.

Each strike Gideon tried to land was easily blocked, but Din saw a small opening and used his forearm to stop the next attack before thrusting the spear toward Gideon’s chest. The man caught it, but Din pushed him back, kicking him in the leg and knocking him against the wall. Din went for the kill, charging at the man, but he stopped again. However, this time Gideon made the mistake of pushing the tip away from him and toward the wall, placing it in the perfect position for Din to disarm him. The Darksaber flew across the air and landed with a thud, the blade disappearing with a whiz. With the man now disarmed, Din landed a hit to his face and knocked him down, and as he tried to get up, Din pointed the end of his spear at the man’s neck.

“You’re sparing my life?” Gideon asked with a smirk, “Well, this should be interesting.”

“Get up,” Din commanded, pulling the man to his feet and placing cuffs around his wrists. Knowing the man was too tired to try and escape, Din walked into the room and fetched Grogu, gingerly removing the cuffs and tossing them aside before picking him up and cradling him. Upon exiting the room, Din’s eye fell on the discarded weapon on the other end of the hall, and he strode over to pick it up carefully. Pressing the button to reveal the dark blade as it whooshed to life, he curiously waved the blade around, listening to the gentle hum as it cut through the air. A grunt from the Moff cut off his thoughts, and Din, not wanting to waste any time, nudged the man’s side with his foot.

“Let’s go,” Din commanded. Moff Gideon put up no resistance, and the two began to make their way toward the bridge.

After walking down several corridors, they finally arrived at the blast doors that led to the bridge, and with a final shove to Gideon’s back, the door opened, and the man stumbled through. As they walked in, Bo-Katan greeted them, but she did not look pleased.

“What happened?” the woman asked.

“He brought him in alive, that’s what happened,” Cara answered, greeting the Child tenderly, “And now the New Republic’s gonna have to double the payment.”

“That’s not what she’s talking about,” Moff Gideon cut in, drawing everyone’s attention, “Why don’t you kill him now and take it?”

Not liking what he was implying, Cara pushed the man to the ground, and he grinned as he looked up at Din.

“It’s yours now.”

“What is?” Din questioned.

“The Darksaber. It belongs to you,” came his reply. Bo-Katan’s eyes narrowed at the man’s words, and Din turned the weapon off and approached.

“Now,” he said, holding it out for her to take, “it belongs to her.”

“She can’t take it,” the Moff continued with glee at the predicament the woman was facing, “It must be won in battle. In order for her to wield the Darksaber again, she would need to defeat you in combat.”

“I yield,” Din stated, still holding the weapon out to her, “It’s yours.”

“Oh, no,” Gideon chuckled as he stood up to face Din, “It doesn’t work that way. The Darksaber doesn’t have power. The story does. Without that blade, she’s a pretender to the throne.”

“He’s right,” Bo-Katan finally said, conflict shining in her eyes at the desire to take the Darksaber and reclaim her throne and the defeat knowing that she had not earned it.

“Come on, just take it,” Din pushed. The woman looked down at the blade and back at him, but the shrill tone of the alarms cut them off.

―END FLASHBACK―

“So, you got the Darksaber and rescued Grogu, but then the Jedi took him away?” Dinah asked, legs swinging from the excitement of the story.

“Yeah,” Din answered, “He needed to be with his own people.”

“That’s too bad,” she spoke, “But at least you rescued him!”

“Yeah.”

“Would you rescue me if I was kidnapped?” Her words caught him by surprise.

“Of course, little one,” Din replied, “Your mother and I would come to save you no matter where you were.”

“I’m glad,” his daughter replied with a smile, “Mommy can get scary when she’s mad.”

“Yes, she can be,” Din agreed with a chuckle before realizing how much time had passed, “Well, I think it’s about time we get you home, don’t you think?” Dinah hopped off the crate and nodded.

“Thank you for today,” she said with a smile, and Din sent her one in return.

As they walked back to your home, Din could not remove the smile that graced his face. The afternoon he had spent with his daughter was one that he would cherish, as painful as it was to bring up memories of his foundling. Din had yet to tell her that he was her father and was unsure how to bring that up but knew he would do anything to protect her, just like he had done with Grogu.

  Unknown POV

For weeks they had tried to track down the illusive man, having managed to catch his scent when he arrived on Nevarro, but they had lost him again when they landed on Sacorria. They had scoured the planet for the Mandalorian, but his ship was too common looking to find, and so he disappeared from their radar. However, as luck would have it, after a month of searching for him, they spotted his armor in a busy bazaar. To their surprise, they saw him approach a little girl and they were even more stunned to see him remove his helmet.

Unfortunately, they only saw the back of his head from their vantage point, but it was enough to pique their interest and decide to watch the two more closely. They tailed the man for several days, seeing him go to the same house and leave gifts on the doorstep, further increasing their curiosity, but they knew that they could not directly confront him there, so they decided to focus on the little girl. Clearly, she was important to him if he was willing to remove his helmet around her, and as they observed the armored man interact with the little girl, a plan began to formulate in their mind, a sinister smile spreading across their face as pieces began to fall into place.

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