#Dulsissia | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sulphuryasecretcloset · 3 years ago

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What if... Family Portrait

(Excuse me while I DIE because the art deity @cacodaemonia was so incredibly kind to create a What-If version of the Fearsome Four pic that Davarax took before he was ripped away from them. Well, here you have the Devoted Dad, Mama Bear, and their Fearsome Five! The cuteness, the adorableness, the PERFECTION is killing me! Davarax’ and Dulcy’s smiles (his slightly slanted grin and her big happy one, aaaah) and their hair (I worship the floof!) and their eyes (So kind, how??) and their armour (sessayh!) and... *flails* All of it!! And sweet, adorable, big eyed Corin, still a little more timid than his rambunctious siblings... PERFECT, I SAY! And to think this is what Corin could have had... Well, in the What-if, this is what he does have!)

A hundred years ago, I promised Davarax’ POV when Dulcy was kidnapped. Apologies for the unforgivably long wait, but I hope the fact that it was meant to be four pages and ended up closer to thirteen can make up for it a little?

What If... we saw it through Davarax’ eyes?

Davarax lowers Zurf to the floor with his grip on his wrist instead of slamming him to the ground like he usually does after managing to flip him over. Letting go, he then backs up, lifts his hands into the air to acknowledge the roar of approval from the other seven Mandalorians present in the training room and nods at the mix of praise aimed his way and the mockery flying Zurf’s way.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Belitz calls out, gesturing for everyone to settle down while he walks towards Davarax. “What was that, Davarax?”

Grinning, Davarax starts backing towards the exit. “That? That I believe was a win.”

“Since when do you coddle your opponent?” Belitz demands to know and follows, trailing after the scent of possible juicy news like a Corellian hound. “What’s up with you?”

“I’m not allowed to be in a good mood?” Davarax drawls, still grinning, still backing up.

“I’ve experienced you in a good mood.” Belitz states. “This is not you in a good mood. You in a good mood is merely spraining bones instead of breaking them. This? This is something else. What happened?”

Davarax snorts amused. He will die before he tells them anything.

“It’s that woman, isn’t it? The outsider.” Pagyle shouts from the other side of the room. Her voice soaked with glee. “She’s got you soft.”

Finally reaching the exit, Davarax does an extravagant bow. “I win. I leave. See you tomorrow, losers.” And then he flees, laughing out loud at the wave of questions and suggestive howling that follows him.

They are right and they are wrong. Wrong, because Davarax ‘is’ in a good mood. Extremely good mood. Honestly, he’s drunk on happiness. And his sparring partners are right, because he does owe the glow in his chest and the smile on his lips to Dulsissia.

Davarax can’t stop himself from bringing up the memory of her looking at him with open affection, the sensation of her fingers braiding with his, as well as the lazy bliss of just having her close and feeling her breathe. And that was just the memories from last night.

He’s never felt anything like this for anyone before. He’s never met anyone like her before.

Over a year with him on a different planet and yet Dulsissia had waited for him. Davarax doubts she knows how much her messages had helped him through that year. She has no idea how many times he replayed those holos during the moments when the darkness curled up in his chest from missing her and his other three kids so much he could barely breathe. How he dreaded what he would come back home to. Every day he woke up thinking that would be the day he learned he’d lost her.

Davarax had believed her when Dulsissia said she’d wait, but life happens and he wouldn’t have blamed her if she had found someone else… but she didn’t. She kept the children safe, handled life in the Covert like she’d grown up there and welcomed him back like she had missed him every bit as much as he’d missed her. If anything, it seems like her feelings for him were even stronger.

It gives him hope. Maybe one day, please let it happen, he’ll be able to defeat the demons from her past, rebuild the trust Macero Valentis had shattered, and take his helmet off for her.

Davarax’ happiness lasts until there is a knock on his door, hours later as he’s about to get ready for the day’s training session with the children, and he opens it to find Corin and Din looking up at him with almost identical anxious facial expressions.

“Is… Is my mom here?” Corin asks in a thin voice.

Davarax frowns. “No?” It’s late afternoon, a time she usually spends with her son, and he hasn’t seen her since she left his room last night. “Why are you asking?”

Corin fidgets. “Me and Din were working on a project with Barthor. Mom was supposed to come pick me up, but she never showed. A-and when we went back to my room, she wasn’t there either.”

Unease instantly coils around Davarax’ heart. There is no way Dulsissia would forget picking up Corin. She wouldn’t. If something came up, something so serious it couldn’t wait, she would have asked Davarax or someone else to bring a message to Corin and make sure he was okay.

Something is wrong.

Corin and Din already look horribly nervous and as Davarax doesn’t want to upset them further he keeps his thoughts to himself. He clears his throat and tries to sound calm. “Okay, listen…” Davarax tries to think and not just react. “I’ll ask around. She probably got caught up in something.” He considers his options and gestures the boys inside. “You two wait here. Okay?”

Sniffling, Corin seems to be very much aware of the seriousness of the situation and simply stands there, head lowered, until Din places his arm around him and leads him into the room.

Davarax takes a step out but pauses to look back at the boys. “And, uh, don’t touch the weapons.” While he trusts them, he also can’t ignore the fact that there are explosives in his room strong enough to send them all to Mandalore That Was.

Din nods. Corin merely sniffles again.

Davarax rushes towards the people he knows Dulcy has the most contact with. Decco hasn’t seen her all day, neither had the next one he asks, but then he gets his first lead.

“I think she went above?” Ayah says, shrugging. “I saw her walking down the hallway with that basket of hers this morning.”

This makes the unease grow stronger. Davarax stalks towards the stairs and enters the city above to set course to where he knows she usually sets up her little stand to sell her cookies.

The sun is shining over Nevarro, the HUD lists the temperatures uncomfortably high, so it shouldn’t be surprising that few people are walking around, but it still fuels Davarax’ unease and makes him wonder if something had scared people indoors. He pauses for half a second when he turns the corner and sees she’s not there. Dulcy is not in her spot. There’s not a single soul in the street. His heart drops. Cold sweat starts to break out at the back of his neck. She’s not there! But, his eyes focuses on the ground, but there is ‘something’ there…

Walking over, Davarax kneels down. He reaches down and brushes some sand away so he can pick up what had caught his attention.

It’s a piece of a cookie.

Staring at it, Davarax swallows down his ever increasing sense of doom and forces himself to look around on the ground. He sees more pieces. Like someone had dropped a bag of them on the ground and then stepped on it. His heartbeats feel like punches inside his chest. Fear. Raw fear. What had happened here?

“Are you looking for the nice cookie lady?” A voice asks.

Davarax looks up and sees a scruffy mercenary standing a small distance away, leaning against the wall next to him and munching away on a cookie with the few teeth he has left. Davarax stands up and drops the piece he had been holding. “Yes. Have you seen her?”

The mercenary nods, chewing thoughtfully. “She was her earlier.”

“Did you see where she went?” Davarax asks.

“The Imp took her away.” A different voice replies. It’s another mercenary. She has a small bag of Dulcy’s cookies hanging from her belt, next to grenades and what looks like small bones. She has more teeth than the other guy. A lot more teeth. Sharp ones.

“What Imp?” Davarax presses on, refusing to acknowledge how panic is starting to set in. He’d told Dulcy she was safe. He’d told her not to be afraid of going into the city because they’d know if Valentis showed up. Had Macero Valentis taken her away?

“An officer.” The first mercenary replies. “He had a whole bunch of those stormtroopers with him. Nothing we could do.” A slight frown settles between his eyebrows. “Seemed like she knew him.”

Davarax closes his eyes, forces himself to stay calm despite being horrified and enraged at the same time, then he exhales and opens them again. “Did you see where they were going?”

“The army base.” The second mercenary informs him. “I hope you find her. She’s nice.”

Thanking them, Davarax heads below again and finds the one responsible for supervising the information coming in about the Imperial movement on the planet. It is another test of his willpower when he learns that he wasn’t warned because he’d told them to keep an eye out for someone who asked around about Dulcy and Corin or the arrival of a man by the name of Macero Valentis. No one had asked around about Dulcy and Corin, and Davarax had said nothing about a Vecon Valentis. They also inform Davarax that Vecon Valentis’ ship had left in a hurry hours ago.

Seething, Davarax barely resists unleashing his anger on these idiots, who probably weren’t too concerned about the safety of an outsider, and he stalks off to the one with the power to do something about this nightmare.

His sister.

Stepping into the Forge, smacking his hand on the button to close the door, Davarax does not kneel down. His heart his thumping like crazy. Dulcy is okay. Yeah, she’s okay. Dulcy is tough. She can handle herself until he can get to her. Please let her be okay. She has to be. Davarax yanks off his helmet. “The Imps got Dulcy.”

His sister pauses in her work, the golden helmet turns and her expressionless t-visor looks at him. “I was just informed.”

Davarax takes a step forward. “We have to go after them.”

There is a moment of silence and then she lowers her hammer and sets it aside. “No.”

Blinking, Davarax did not expect that answer. Okay, she had not been thrilled about Dulcy from the second he’d brought her home, finding her weak and whimsical, but he’d taken it for granted that she’d resent Imps taking someone under her protection. “Why not?”

“She’s an outsider.” His sister replies. Her voice is as emotionless as her helmet. “She’s not a Mandalorian. She’s not a Foundling. She’s not of this Covert. I will not risk the lives of our people for her. That is not the Way.”

Now Davarax is the one who needs a moment of silence and then he finds his voice again. “What about her son?”

“The boy is your Foundling.” Is the flat reply. “According to your reports, he shows promise as a fighter.”

Davarax nods thoughtfully, knowing there is no way he can change her mind. She’s not someone who changes her mind. He should know. “I will make arrangements that he’ll be taken care of if I don’t return.” He turns to leave.

“Where are you going?” Now there is a hint of sharpness in her voice.

Davarax stops, stares at the door and tries to sort out what he’s feeling. It’s like there is an imploding star inside his chest. It’s hard to breathe. “I’m going after her.”

“You are not.” That is an order.

“I am.” Davarax turns to face his sister again. He can’t lose Dulcy. He won’t. He refuses!

“You are staying here.”

“Or what?” Davarax snarls viciously, stepping forward, hands clenching and pure rage burning in his eyes.

She lifts her hands and removes her helmet. Her dark eyes and strong cheekbones, her hair that mix of brown and red, so similar to their mother she could be her twin. There is no mercy in her gaze. “You are staying here, brother. You are not going after her. She will lead you to your death.”

Davarax does not back down one inch. She was always meant to be the one to follow in their parents footsteps and he was to be her general, but this is an order he will not obey. “I love her vod. There is only one way you can stop me and you know it.” She is going to have to beat him unconscious and he will fight her with everything he’s got. “Try it!”

Her eyes narrow a tiny bit. For her, that is a huge red flag, revealing just how angry she is. Despite her detachment to most things, Davarax knows she loves him. She lets him get away with so much, stuff no other Mandalorian would dare to try under her rule, and she will knock him out if she thinks it will save his life.

But he will never forgive her if she stops him from saving Dulcy, his heart and future, and his sister must know this because she simply puts her helmet back on and turns away from him.

She won’t stop him, but he’s on his own. It hurts, but he’s not surprised.

Davarax puts his own helmet back on and walks out of the room.

Davarax is shaking. His head and his heart is in complete chaos.

He’s dreading what Dulcy is going through. Guilt is ripping him apart. She’d trusted him and now she is being brought back to the man who had almost ruined her and her son. Macero’s temper must be terrible, judging by how terrified she’d been when she thought he’d found them due to that lone stormtrooper, and Davarax can barely breathe when thinking about what the man will do to her if he gets his hands on her.

Davarax fights air into his lungs. Focus. He cannot undo what has happened, he needs to focus on what he can do. He needs his weapons and he has to explain to Corin what has happened and...

Davarax marches back to his room.

“Uncle Vecon…?” Corin goes pale as a sheet. His eyes fill up with more tears and his little frame start to tremble. “He’s… He’s going to take mom back to father. And he’s going to be sooo angry…”

“Hey.” Davarax takes a gentle hold of his shoulder and makes the boy look up at him. “Corin, listen to me, I won’t let that happen. Understand? I’m going to get your mom back. I promise you.” Corin looks up at him with complete trust despite the fear in his eyes. So young and yet painfully aware of the horrors his father is capable of. “You promise?”

Davarax nods, struggling to hide how much he wants to kill Corin’s father. The Galaxy would be a better place with one less monster in it. He pulls the boy in close and hugs him. “I promise.” And he fully intends to keep that promise. “But for me to do this, I need you to do me a huge favour.”

Nodding, Corin absently wipes a runaway tear from his face. “Okay.”

“What do you need us to do?” Din asks, ready to be Corin’s support pillar and Davarax feels a stab of pride as well as affection for the boy. His brave Foundling. Despite the horror he went through himself not too many years ago, Din doesn’t hesitate to support his friend. Like a true Mandalorian.

“I don’t know how long I’ll be gone.” Davarax doesn’t want to mention the possibility he might not come back at all. They are worried enough. “I need Corin to stay with… a friend of mine until I get back.”

Din lowers his gaze, knowing Davarax is not talking about his parents as they have made it clear they do not like outsiders and consider Corin very much as one. “I’ll… come along. Make sure he settles in.” “Thank you.” Davarax says. He’s not entirely thrilled about what he’s about to do, but it’s his least bad option out of a bunch of worse options. “Corin, let’s go by your room and pick up some stuff for a couple of days. Okay? We have to hurry.” Corin nods, meek and affable. He’s horribly pale and looks heartbreakingly shaken, but he is holding himself together despite having lost the person who means the most to him. He’s stronger than he knows, Davarax muses. One day that boy will grow up to be a powerful warrior.

They pick up some clothes and Corin’s datapad. Davarax notices a small pile of Din’s clothing lying on a chair in a corner and wonders just how much time the kid spends with Dulcy and Corin. Then they make their way down the hallway and head towards a door he really does not want to approach.

Davarax pushes the button to signal his presence. He doesn’t want to use the comm system and risk being shut down.

Nothing.

Sighing, Davarax pushes again. He doesn’t have time for this. Every second wasted means that Valentis guy dragging Dulcy farther and farther away and closer to her former husband.

Finally the door slides open and Davarax forces his spine straight. “I need a favour.”

A heavy silence follows before there is a slight shake of a blue helmet as if to reboot his brain before he’s able to speak. “You. You are asking Dez Vizla for a favour?”

Corin and Din exchange looks behind Davarax and he can almost hear what the kids are thinking. Why on earth would he bring Corin to Dez Vizla?

Well, Barthor’s parents would never agree to take him in. Neither would Din’s parents. And while the Saxons would say yes, he’s not entirely sure Corin would survive that. Decco’s illness causes days when she has no energy and might soon end her days all together. The Fighting Corps are constantly on the move and its members have no stability for a child. Dez Vizla may be an uptight and pompous jerk who likes to talk about himself in the third person and unfortunately treats his son like an adult instead of a child, but he rarely leaves the Covert, guards his wards with his life and will never turn his back on a Foundling in need. Plus, in his quarters, Corin will also have Paz to look after him day and night. Hopefully the stay won’t be for too long, but at least Corin will be safe and cared for.

“I need you to look after Corin for a bit.” Davarax says, trying to sound calm and confident.

Dez snorts a haughty laugh. “What?” He shakes his head again, still struggling to believe what he’s hearing. “You want… What?”

“Dulcy got snatched by Imps. They took her away.” Davarax explains in a tight voice, trying hard not to upset Corin. “I’m going to get her back.” He switches to Mando’a and hopes Corin doesn’t understand what he’s saying next. ”This is serious, Dez. I need your help. Keep him safe?”

Dez stares at him for a while, entirely still and unreadable, before he finally sighs and takes a step to the side to let Corin enter. “Get inside, boy. Now.”

Corin freezes, panics, and looks up at Davarax. As expected, he responds badly to Dez’ rough personality. Davarax is about to speak but Din beats him to it.

Din gives Corin a light nudge. “I’ll come with you. It’s okay.” He sends Dez a challenging look.

Dez snorts again, amused by the glare, and gives a nod. Fine. Din can come too.

Relieved, Davarax sees the two shuffle into the Vizla quarters and tells himself it won’t be the last time he sees them. He’s going to get Dulcy and then they will all be together again.

Davarax grabs his weapons and as many grenades and explosives as he can before he sets course for the Razor Crest. His heart is still thumping so hard he can almost feel it battering against the inside of his breastplate.

If Macero Valentis is a monster, his brother might be too. What if he has hurt Dulcy? What is she thinking about right now? Does she think Davarax has abandoned her or does she find comfort in the knowledge that he’ll come for her? Is she afraid? She’s tough, no doubt about that, but courage is not the absence of fear. Only a fool would not feel fear at times. And the mere thought of her being afraid burns Davarax’ heart like acid.

Lost in a hurricane of thoughts and emotions, Davarax doesn’t hear the voice calling out his name and is a bit startled when someone grabs him just as he’s about to step outside of the Covert. Snapping his visor over, Davarax is surprised to find Paz there.

“Is it true?” Paz says, breathless and agitated. “Dulcy’s gone? The Imps got her?”

Davarax exhales. “Yeah…” He has to gather himself and appear calm once again, not wanting to worry Paz either. “But I’m going to get her back. Don’t worry. You just make sure Corin is okay.”

Paz gulps for air as his agitation increases. “I’m coming with you.”

“What? No.” Davarax blinks when the boy bolts by him and stalks out of the Covert. “Paz! Paz, get back here.”

Marching towards the Razor Crest, Paz doesn’t slow down. “I’m coming with you!”

Davarax curses and trots after him, trying to persuade him to go back. Paz makes it all the way inside the ship’s cargo hold before Davarax loses his patience and grabs his arm.

“Paz, I don’t have time for this!” Davarax makes Paz’ visor focus on him. “Dulcy is in serious trouble. These Imps are dangerous.”

“I can fight!” Paz snaps back at him, his voice both angry and shaking.

“I know you can fight.” Davarax reassures him, a little impatiently. “But you are not coming with me. Go home, Paz. Look after Corin. And the others. Go!”

“No!” Paz shouts, but his next words are soft and broken. “She has to come back. She has to.” He struggles to keep speaking. “She’s always so nice to me. To all of us.”

“I know…” Davarax whispers. Paz had been abandoned by his birth mother all those years ago and now he is ready to rush into battle and get himself killed to avoid losing Dulcy. The only woman who had cared enough to act like an actual mother to him. “I’m going to get her back, Paz. I promise. But I have to go now.”

“I’m going with you.” Paz repeats in a stubborn reply.

Sighing, Davarax knows more words are pointless. While the helmet hides Paz’ face, he knows the boy well enough to hear in his voice and read from his body language when he’s too determined to be persuaded otherwise. “Go home, Paz.” He tightens his grip on his arm and drags him out of the ship, kicking and screaming.

Paz’ fury is frightful and Davarax is fairly certain if the boy had a weapon; he would have shot Davarax when he lifts the ramp and blocks him out of the ship. He might not forgive Davarax for this, but he will be safe and alive. And that is what Dulcy would want too.

Dulcy…

-You and Corin are safe here, he’d told her.

She had trusted him when he’d said they’d know if there was danger nearby. He’d told her those words because he’d believed them too. He’d failed to take idiocy and dislike towards outsiders into consideration. The idiots hadn’t meant for any harm to come to her, they just didn’t put any effort into the safety of an outsider.

She’s okay. Dulcy has to be okay. Davarax will get to her long before Macero Valentis does. He will. He won’t fail her, or the children, not as long as he breathes. Davarax had given up on having a family of his own beyond what time he was allowed to spend with his treasured troublemakers and he had settled for being a provider for other families instead, but then Dulcy entered his life and everything changed.

Davarax’ hands shake as he starts up the Razor Crest, driven by red hot fury at the ones who had taken Dulcy away and cold dark despair at the thought of her surrounded by enemies.

He’s going to get her back.

Going after the Imp ship is part guessing, part experienced calculations and part luck. There is no way for Davarax to know their exact route or destination as he has no clue where Macero Valentis is currently located, but he knows which routes are most commonly used by Imps ships as he tends to avoid them like the plague and he has contacts to ask along the way.

It feels strange to deliberately enter areas where he is bound to meet Imp ships.

Constant attacks has left the Imp army jumpy so there are a couple of ships who take his presence and him scanning them the wrong way. The Razor Crest has to make a run for it several times and ends up with scorch marks on her hull, but that’s not enough to make Davarax stop.

He can’t.

Eventually Davarax manages to lock on to the one moving against the stream of Imp ships and with single-minded determination as if there is some place it needs to be and as fast as possible. He can’t be sure, but his heart tells him he’s found his prey and Davarax always trusts his instincts.

Unaware of baring his teeth like a furious beast and the muscles in his neck and shoulders tensing up, Davarax can only register one thought: the hunt has begun.

Food and sleep have become a distant memory on this trip. When did he eat or sleep last? Yesterday? The day before? He can’t remember and Davarax doesn’t care. He simply keeps pushing the Razor Crest and himself to catch up with the Imp ship before it reaches the clutches of Macero Valentis.

Eventually he does catch up with the ship.

Others tend to shake their head at Davarax’ attachment to the Razor Crest, but he knows what she’s capable of and how to us her strengths in ways that his enemies never expect. People underestimate his ship all the time and Davarax hopes they continue to do so – as it makes his victories all the more sweeter and drastically reduces the risk to his life and his ship’s safety.

When the Imp ship slows down, for whatever reason, Davarax goes for it.

Setting loose two decoys with signals meant to impersonate much larger ships than the Razor Crest, Davarax gives a powerful boost with his engine before powering down and hoping the forward momentum will bring him to where he needs to go; the landing dock on the Imp ship’s left flank.

It’s a move he’s only done twice before and he succeeded once, but Davarax decides to risk it.

Dulcy is right there. In that ship. And Macero Valentis is not, or there would have been a second ship to accompany them. There is still time to get her back.

The Razor Crest does not fail him. She slides through the darkness, under the Imp ship’s radar and drowsy attention, their arrogance brought on by them thinking themselves superior in every way can be quite helpful, and once she’s powered back up it only takes the gentlest of nudges to make her move up to where she can latch on to one of the boarding docks.

Davarax is on his feet before the attachment to the other ship is deemed secure by the Razor Crest’s sensors. Three blasters and an unseemly amount of explosives join his arsenal hidden in his armour.

It’s time to put all of his concern and anger into his weapons.

He goes for stealth at first. He needs to know where they are keeping Dulcy. And while Davarax knows he’s a skilled fighter, he’s just one man and this ship is crawling with soldiers. He needs to be clever about this and not let his anger rule him.

He’s told Din countless times to control his anger instead of letting his anger control him, and this is one of those situations where that could be the deciding factor of the outcome of the mission.

A drowsing guard is yanked around a corner and asked for information, but the guy isn’t much help and is left hidden inside a service closet. He is soon joined by two more.

It’s the fourth guard that finally gives Davarax the answers he is looking for.

Dulsissia Valentis is indeed on this ship. They are keeping Dulcy two levels below this one, in the last cell on the left side of the prison corridor. And there are plenty of guards.

There is no way he can get to her without being detected.

Davarax lets the guard fall to the floor and draws his blasters. Controlling your anger also means to know when it is time to let it loose.

It’s time.

It kind of becomes a red haze after that. Davarax makes his way through the soldiers and guards, using blasters and grenades and his flame thrower to remove them from his path, and every step brings him closer to Dulcy.

Nothing will stop him.

Nothing.

He plants several bombs in strategic places, aiming to injure the ship’s engines and computers as well as draw attention away from himself. Once that is in place, Davarax moves towards the door leading below and gets ready.

Davarax triggers the first two bombs. The ship shakes and groans and he heads below to face the minor army placed there to guard their precious cargo.

The first Trooper he sees standing there spins around at the sound of him and freezes with surprise.

Davarax fires his blaster and moves on to take down the next before the body has hit the floor. He triggers more bombs.

The ship’s siren starts blaring. It howls its long and loud warnings on all floors.

After that, blaster shots hits Davarax’ armour, shrapnel from enemy grenades and his own stabs at him, fists and bots do their best to hurt him, even a blade or two slices through his jacket, yet he keeps moving forward. He won’t stop unless he’s dead.

A well placed grenade takes out the light on the entire level, but instead of darkness his HUD has to adjust to the backup-lights flickering on and off as it appears the electrical system itself has taken damage.

Endless amounts of guards try to stop him. All of them visibly confused as they were under the impression that they are being invaded by a large group of enemies and all they see is one Mando. They soon are too dead to appreciate the lesson Davarax is teaching them: do not mess with a Mandalorian’s family.

Davarax removes a couple of soldiers trying to kill him with a well-aimed grenade and he turns a corner to see what he’s been looking for; the prison corridor.

“He’s here!” Someone shouts in the distance.

“Thank you for pointing out the obvious.” A voice snaps. “Don’t just stand there! Stop him!”

More soldiers rush forward to protect the owner of the voice.

Davarax removes obstacle (soldier) after obstacle (more soldiers), ignoring everything except his mission. He’s so lost in his anger and battle-haze that he’s not prepared for when he suddenly sees her there. Barely visible through the smoke and blaster shots sent his way, there is no mistaking her.

Dulcy.

Some obnoxious Imp officer is standing next to her, his one hand grabbing her arm and the other holding a blaster muzzle to her head. The officer looks scared. She does not. Her eyes are wide with surprise, yes, but her mouth softens into the faintest of smiles. Her hair is almost as wild as Raga’s and for some weird reason she’s wearing a fancy teal dress that probably costs more than the Razor Crest.

It would have eased Davarax’ anger, soothed the fire inside him, quenched his thirst for blood, seeing her standing there… if not for the blooming bruise on her face. There is a startling discolouring of the delicate cheekbone he’d trailed light fingertips over in a wordless display of love not too long ago...

Unbridled rage explodes inside Davarax. He’s going to rip Vecon Valentis apart!

Completely indifferent to the shots fired at him, Davarax merely keeps stalking towards Dulcy and the soon-to-be-dead-Imp, killing anyone who gets in his way. He’s so angry he can barely breathe. How dare they hurt her?!

A trooper jumps out of room next to him, blaster raised, but Davarax slams his elbow into the helmet so hard it shatters. He then pulls out a vibro-blades and throws it through the air and takes down the one guard left standing next to Dulcy and the Imp officer.

The red lights are still flashing, sirens are blaring, there is thick smoke in the air, and Davarax is finally standing in front of Dulcy and Vecon Valentis. The Imp now looks downright terrified.

“Don’t, Mando.” Vecon warns. “I will shoot.”

“Not if he kills you first, Vecon.” Dulcy says. She’s keeping her gaze locked on Davarax, unfazed by Vecon’s threat and the pain of her bruised face. His brave Dulcy. His heart. His light.

Not bothering to even look at Vecon, Davarax grabs the man’s hand holding on to the blaster and squeezes and twists it until he drops the weapon with a pained yelp. He’s mesmerized by Dulcy’s complete lack of fear and solid faith in him. She even uses the moment Davarax disarms her captor to break free and spin around to stand next to Davarax instead.

“Tell Macero I’m never going back. He will never see his son again. And to leave me alone. And if he comes after me or my family again, I won’t ask nicely to be left alone. I will kill him.”

‘My family’. She said ‘my family’. It might be wishful thinking from Davarax’ side, but her choosing those words instead of just saying ‘me or my son’, it almost sounds like she means… him and the children? The anger deflates as wild hope floods Davarax instead and he glances over at the amazing woman next to him.

Dulcy is glaring at Vecon, who is bending over into an awkwardly twisted position due to the grip Davarax has on him, and she looks magnificent; beauty and fury. And there is no hesitation or trace of softness in her threat. She means it, she will kill Macero, and Davarax loves her even more.

“Tell him yourself.” Vecon sneers.

Davarax is distracted, entirely focused on Dulcy, and he pays the price. The Imp moves and a sharp pain follows as he drives a blade into Davarax’ side. Grunting, Davarax reacts instinctively; he draws his blaster and shoots.

Vecon Valentis is dead.

Dulcy doesn’t care. She seems indifferent to the man being killed and her being deprived of the chance to do it herself as payback for her bruised face. All she focuses on is getting to where the blade is planted deep in Davarax’ body. “Oh. Oh no. What-”

They have to leave. Now. The blade hasn’t done lethal damage but Davarax knows he won’t be able to fight for too long with this kind of injury. Blood-loss will weaken him. He yanks the blade out and grabs her arm to redirect her frightened gaze to his t-visor. “We have to go.”

She nods, a little stunned but ready to get out of there. Good.

Picking up Valentis’ blaster, he hands it to her. “I need you to cover my back, Dulcy. Can you do that?” Blood is seeping through his underarmor and a burning pain is spreading. No time to deal with it as more guards are on their way for sure. He needs her help if they are going to make it.

She nods again. Worried, pale, but determined. She’s got his back. Just like he knew she would.

He loves her so much.

Together, they move, battle and make it back to the Razor Crest.

Stumbling into the cockpit and over to sit down in the pilot seat, Davarax brings the engines online and detaches them from the Imp ship as quick as possible. The bombs he’d set off earlier was to confuse the troops onboard and Davarax hopes they have caused enough damage to the engines for him and Dulcy to make their escape.

The Razor Crest does a slow turn, rolling over, Dulcy buckles herself into her seat, and with a strained shake of her entire hull; the Razor Crest gives a mighty kick and races off into the darkness.

-Run, Davarax pleads the ship. -Run as fast as you can, old girl. If that beast recovers enough to come after us, we’re all dead. So I need you to run with everything you got. Run!

And, again maybe it is his wishful thinking, Davarax swears he feels the ship give an extra burst and her speed increases even more as they race towards safety.

Only after forty three minutes and seventeen seconds of pushing the engines to the limit of what they can take, plus non-stop checking the radar to see if someone has decided to chase them and finding nothing, only then does Davarax dare to ease up and let the Razor Crest slow down while he leans back and exhales.

Adrenaline and stress leaves his body while exhaustion moves in.

This is also when Dulcy unbuckles herself and appears by his side to with an anxious expression on her beautiful face and her hands hovering a little undecidedly over his torso as if she can’t decide where to touch.

Her own bruised face appears forgotten to her. Davarax feels how guilt viciously collides with the relief of having her back. He reaches out, pulls Dulcy close and hugs her tight. “Are you okay?” Her bruised face is bad enough, more than bad enough, but what if… He will never forgive himself if...

“Yes, but you’re not.” Dulcy replies, too relaxed to be lying and she tries to push him away. “You’re bleeding. You’re hurt, Davarax. I have to-”

Feeling her in his arms, alive and warm and there and forgiving him his failure, Davarax couldn’t care less about his own injuries. He can’t even feel them. All he can feel is her. All he cares about is her. The thought of letting her go after nearly losing her forever hurts. “In a moment.” Davarax’ throat is snared up so tight he has to whisper. “Please.”

And his heart shatters entirely when this incredible woman shivers, once, then wraps her arms around him and hugs him back. Davarax eases her over to sit on his lap where she curls as close to him as she can manage and he holds her as close as he dares.

He’d nearly lost her. This fact will haunt him for the rest of his life; a life he cannot imagine without her. She brought him out of his half-existence, comforted his children when he was unable to and Davarax had started to wake up in the mornings with hope instead of guilt and weariness.

Despite the ordeal she has been through, Dulsissia ignores her own hurt and says that they need to tell the Covert Macero will come for them so they can flee, but Davarax isn’t too worried. They have fought all kinds of governments before and won. He alone had taken on a Destroyer and gotten away with it today, just imagine what his entire Covert could do to a man stupid enough to challenge them.

Dulcy is not convinced, but they compromise and then her focus shifts to his injuries and that is something she will not compromise on. It’s odd to have someone care. Nice, but odd. He’s always tended to his injuries himself.

She fusses about his wounds and notes how Vecon held the blade all wrong to do fatal damage. His girl knows how to stab someone properly. His heart glows with pride.

Dulcy refuses to use the cauterizer and tries to order him out of the pilot seat. As much as he loves her authoritative voice, Davarax declines. He needs to keep an eye on the radar, just in case.

Another compromise is made and she ends up sitting on his lap while tending to his injuries.

It’s no big surprise when she asks about her son.

“Scared out of his mind that he’ll never see his mother again.” Davarax sighs, running his hand along her arm in an absent-minded caress. “When we get closer to Nevarro, I’ll try to reach him.”

“And the rest of the kids?”

That actually makes Davarax laugh a little “I had to physically wrestle Paz off the ship when he heard I was going. If he had a blaster, he would have shot me.” His hand rounds her shoulder and moves up her neck to cup the side of her face. “They’ve all been desperate to get you back. Like me.” It feels almost too good that she’s back. He did it. She’s here. He didn’t fail her again.

“I’m sorry.” Dulsissia mumbles, gently patting down the edges of a bacta patch on his stab wound. “I didn’t see him before it was too late. And then I just wanted them away from all of you.”

“Hey.” Davarax takes a gentle but firm grip on her wrist, halting her movement, making her look at his visor. “This was not your fault. This was all them. You have nothing to apologize for.”

Dulsissia doesn’t look convinced. “Maybe not. But the fact remains that without me stumbling into your life, you wouldn’t be bleeding right now.”

“Without me barging into yours, I wouldn’t be sitting here, that’s true.” Davarax replies, gently caressing her wrist. “I wouldn’t be with you. My days wouldn’t bring happy memories instead of feeling guilty all the time. I wouldn’t come home to my kids smiling instead of crying, hiding away while being terrified for their lives or without a voice because they have been screaming themselves hoarse.” His hand moves up to brush the back of his fingers across her bruised cheekbone, feeling the guilt gnaw at him again. “That’s worth more than bleeding for, cyare. That’s worth dying for.”

Closing her eyes, Dulsissia takes a hold of his hand and moves it down to press her lips to it. “Other than the love I felt for my son, I didn’t know what love was until I met you.” She shivers. “Don’t talk about dying because it feels like tempting fate and I can’t imagine my life without you in it.”

“Then, maybe, if you feel like that, would you…” Davarax says, tensing up a little. He had asked her to marry him and she had said no. It’s just… He wants them to be together, forever, so badly. He wants to be able to take his helmet off in front of her. He wants to kiss her lips and feel her hands on his face. He wants her to see his smile and how happy she makes him. He wants… What he wants doesn’t matter. As tempting as it is to ask her to at least reconsider, he won’t. He had asked and she had said no. Davarax is going to have to respect that.

Dulcy kissing his hand snaps him out of his thoughts just before she asks; “Would I what?”

Davarax exhales and lets go off his dream. He then tilts his head and tries to divert the conversation. “Would you let me compliment you on the dress? It’s lovely. And really brings out the colour of your eyes.” Vecon Valentis might have been a jerk, but looks to have had a sense of fashion.

Laughing, Dulsissia shakes her head and goes back to focus on cleaning and bandaging him up. “Thank you. I kind of like it myself. Impractical, but pretty. I was thinking about keeping it.”

“I think you should.” Davarax drawls, toying with the thin shoulder strap to distract himself as well. “Definitely.”

When Davarax finally manages to contact the children over the comm system, it’s both a relief and painful torture. Relief in that Corin gets to talk to his mother, hear her voice and know she is safe, same with the other children, but Davarax is also tortured by guilt upon hearing their distress and knowing he is to blame. He had said Dulcy was safe and she had been ripped away from them.

His heart aches the most, however, when Dulcy, his sweet Dulcy, makes sure she hears the voice of every child to reassure them all, like the amazing mother she is. It makes him want to collect every neglected child in Galaxy and bring them to her so they can feel happy again too.

In the five hours it takes for them to return to Nevarro, Davarax persuades Dulcy to return to his lap and merely drowse in his arms until they land. It feels so good to hold her. He will happily share her with the children when they get back home, but for these hours, knowing everyone is safe, he will allow himself to be selfish and savour every second where it is just the two of them.

Stepping inside the Covert, Corin is in his mother’s arms before the door has closed behind them. The boy is clinging to his mother with desperate determination, eyes squeezed tight and his entire frame shaking. Dulcy is struggling to keep from crying and she’s stroking and kissing his dark hair, his cheeks and his forehead. It’s the kind of open affection that Davarax can only dream about...

Which means he is not prepared for Din running over to wrap his arms around his waist and burying his face to his stomach with a half-choked sound. His grip is frightfully strong. Surprised and humbled by the rare display of affection, Davarax runs a gentle hand over Din’s hair. While Din has eagerly soaked up every hug and encouraging pat Davarax has given him, this is the first time he has initiated a hug. It almost feels like Din had been equally scared of losing him as Corin had been about losing his mother. That… It’s…

Glancing over at Dulcy, trying to blink away the fog that appears to be assaulting his eyes, Davarax sees Raga and Barthor have joined Corin in her embrace. It seems wrong that Din should have to settle for him so he gently ushers the boy over to Dulcy as well and loves her even more at how quickly and naturally she includes Din with the others.

It would be perfect if only… Davarax’ heart sinks as he sees Paz standing there alone, arms crossed, older than his years. He’s not been the same since the battle at the new Covert. It’s a part of growing up as a Mandalorian, but it still hurts to witness. Yet another thing he can’t protect them from.

Lost in thought, Davarax is then again not prepared as Dulcy unleashes Corin, Raga and Barthor in his direction and they all throw themselves at him with gusto. Davarax grunts at the impact when Raga actually jumps at his chest, Barthor smacks into his left hip and Corin to his right, Din’s arms goes back around his waist, all of them grabbing a hold and hugging him. Din laughs while Davarax staggers a step backwards and tries to pet each head, support Raga to prevent the little space-monkey from falling and not dislodge any one of them at the same time.

Dulcy walks over to stand in front of Paz. “No hug?”

“Kids first.” Is the stern reply.

She simply pulls him close, hugs him even closer and whispers something. Something that has Paz relax and hug her back. That woman must surely be a Jedi witch…

But Davarax doesn’t get to linger on the sight or speculate on her magical powers as he’s quickly distracted by Raga climbing up to perch on his shoulder and he has to support her with one hand while Corin decides to hang off his other arm, using him like a swing like he’d done during their initial meeting back on that smoke-covered planet. Din actually laughs.

“Maybe we can head inside?” Davarax asks, his voice a little strained under the children enthusiastically mistaking him for a playground.

Dulcy looks over at them and smiles like the angel she is. “Yeah, let’s go.”

They walk towards Dulcy and Corin’s room. She reminds him of the need to warn the Covert about the danger of Macero Valentis, but Davarax is in no hurry to see his sister just yet. And Davarax does not believe for one second that Valentis could be a threat to the Covert. If the foolish man was to try to attack, they would eat him alive.

Inside the room there is a whirlwind of exchange of information. Dulcy is as curious about how Davarax had been able to find her as the children are about what had happened to her. Corin gently touches the bruise on his mother’s face with agonized tenderness.

“It still sucks that Davarax had to go alone.” Raga states angrily. “He even had to defy ‘her’ to do it!”

Startled, Davarax doesn’t want Dulcy to know he’d raised his voice to his sister. “It’s late.” He states, stealing their attention away from Raga’s words. “You kids should head home.”

There is nothing but disappointed faces among the children, but there is one who looks downright… depressed. “Can…” Din clears his throat, shifts his position awkwardly. “Can I stay here tonight?”

Corin nods. “He has bad dreams, mom. He dreamt the droids got you.”

Davarax’ heart clenches. He knows how tormented Din has been by the memory of how his birth parents had perished. He’s seen the raw fear in him whenever the boy sees an android. And when Dulcy sends him a pleading look, Davarax isn’t difficult to persuade. Sighing, he nods and starts to contact Din’s Mandalorian parents via his vambrace. “I’ll ask them” And they will say yes. He won’t settle for anything else. The boy needs a little cheering up after all this.

That triggers a landslide of requests to stay as well. Davarax adores those kids for how Raga meekly promises to behave and Paz finally reverting to his real age by demanding to stay if she gets to stay, yet Barthor’s quiet resignation awakens the anger in Davarax.

“My mom will never let me sleep over.” Barthor scoffs with bitter conviction.

Davarax feels his eyes narrow. “Want to bet?” Barthor is one of his kids. If Barthor wants to join the sleep-over, then Barthor will sleep over as well. He is just about to press the final button to contact Din’s parents when his beloved witch strikes again.

“How about… we all spend the night in Davarax’ room?”

Davarax’ face snaps up to stare at her. She couldn’t have surprised him more if she’d slapped him across his bare face with a fish. “Say what now?” Nobody said anything about them sleeping over in his room, with explosives in every corner and the memory of Dulcy’s soft whimpers in his bed.

Din lights up with utter delight. “Oh, can we?”

Davarax clenches his jaw, Dulcy gives him the sweetest smile of fake innocence, and he folds with a heavy sigh. As if he can deny her or these kids anything. “Just… let me talk to your parents first.”

As expected, Din’s parents give their permission without much trouble. They trust Davarax.

Davarax fears he suffers permanent hearing damage after connecting with the Saxons and quickly blurts out his question.

There is a moment of silence before Raga’s mother states: “Anything she breaks, I’m not paying for it.”

“It’ll be on me.” Davarax replies, and then she starts screaming at either her husband or her sons and he just shouts his goodbye and disconnects.

Dez is a problem because of course he is. That man thrives on being difficult, especially around Davarax. If Davarax states something obvious, Dez will disagree just because he said it.

“A sleep over? Are you kidding me? My boy has put on the helmet. He doesn’t do kid stuff like that. I will not have you make my son soft, Davarax.”

“Dez…” Davarax has to take a deep breath and not lose his temper. “It’s a sleep-over. All his friends will be here. Don’t be such a hard-ass. Let the boy have some fun.”

“We are Mandalorians. We don’t do fun. Fun doesn’t make you into a great warrior.”

“A little fun never harmed a kid. He’s a kid, Dez. Helmet or not, he’s still a kid. Let him have this.”

“He should be training.”

“He is training. Every day. That boy is dedicated and you know it. He’s among the best fighters I’ve ever seen. Let. Him. Have. This.”

They bicker back and forth for a while and eventually Davarax manages to wear down the cantankerous man by a combination of nagging and bribery. It’s worth it when he can give Paz the thumbs up to show he’s allowed to stay as well.

And yet Dez Vizla is nowhere near as frustrating as Barthor’s parents. There is no room for negotiations, no compassion or empathy, just a stubborn ‘no’. Davarax tries everything. He flatters, he tries to bride, he tries to reason with them, he even gets dangerously close to pleading, but it doesn’t work. They won’t budge. They will not allow their son to have one simple sleep-over.

And that is when Davarax turns mean. Dangerously mean.

Thirty seconds later, he can give a very surprised Barthor a thumbs up.

That is how they end up gathering all there is off mattresses and blankets and pillows and march over to Davarax’ room. After hoarding and hiding away his weaponry, Davarax helps to arrange their haul all so his kids can be comfortable before he steps up next to Dulcy. “The kids are set. You take the bed. I’ll, uh…” He scouts for where he can fit on the floor, have a good view of the door in case of danger and be close enough to the kids to keep an eye on them as well.

“You and me are sharing the bed.” Dulcy states, as if it is the most natural thing in the world and her words doesn’t hit him in the gut like she’d fired a slugthrower. “The bed is for old people. Like us.”

“I said I was sorry.” Barthor groans. “Let it go.”

“Never.” Dulcy snaps, then she sends Davarax, who can’t stop staring at her, a puzzled look. “What?”

What? She’d just said they would share a bed, a bed with sinful memories, with the kids in the room and she’s asking him ‘what’?? Davarax shakes his head and looks over at the kids again to calm his stuttering heart. She can’t be that oblivious, can she? Well, he can handle this. He can-

“And would you mind taking the armour off?” Dulcy continues to torture him. “You can, inside the Covert, right?”

Closing his eyes, wondering what he’d done wrong to deserve this sweet punishment, Davarax manages a tiny nod.

He handles it like a champ. Davarax removes his armour, settles himself on the bed closest to the door to keep an eye on it and the children to ensure they are safe. Din often has nightmares and might need calming down, though he currently looks quite comfortable between Corin and Paz. Davarax got this. He can handle this.

Dulcy curls up next to him and rests her head on his chest.

He… He’s got… got this…

After a while, Dulcy lets out a soft laugh. “You’re going to have to breathe eventually, you know.”

“No.” Davarax declares. She’s too close and too tempting for him to dare to breathe.

Dulcy giggles and that catches Corin’s attention. He pops his head up and asks what is so funny. If only he knew. Of course Davarax’ evil witch isn’t content with tormenting him solely by being this close to him. Oh no. She hoists herself up on her side and places her hand on his stomach. Her fingers dig gently into the fabric of his shirt and making it slide across his skin in a deliberate caress. “Nothing, baby. Go back to sleep”

Oh. Oh, this means war. Davarax reaches down and grabs a good handful of that divine behind of hers. He grins and savours her strangled squeak like the finest battle trophy.

Corin’s head pops up again. “Mom?”

“It’s fine, Corin.” Dulsissia takes revenge by prodding two fingers next to one of Davarax’ wounds

He jolts with a muffled grunt. Oh, she is really pushing her luck right now...

Corin’s head goes down again.

Davarax’ takes a firmer grip on her behind, hitching her abruptly closer, so she places a hand to an unharmed area on his chest to push herself away. Davarax counters by using his other hand to grab the one she has to his chest and removing it before pulling her even closer. She squirms to free herself while they both struggle to muffle their laughter. Davarax can’t believe this is happening. He wasn’t this childish even when he was a child.

Paz’ helmet comes up and he lets out a very annoyed; “SHHH!”

Davarax and Dulsissia both withdraw their hands amidst quiet laughter.

“Sorry.” Dulsissia stutters through choked giggles.

“Yeah, sorry.” Davarax adds, struggling hard to silence his own snickering.

Grunting, still very much annoyed, Paz lies back down again.

As the laughter calms and a warm peace settles in instead, Dulsissia finds Davarax’ hand. She takes it, lifts it up to hold it between their chests, and smiles as their fingers begin their slow, pointless dance of just touching and braiding and feeling like they had done that very special night.

Looking at her face, seeing the warm affection in her eyes, the flush in her cheeks and the trust in her features, Davarax considers just how lucky he is. How the smallest change in the past might have lead both him and Dulcy on very different paths. How he could have never known the happiness he’s feeling now.

Coincidence or fate, he doesn’t care, it had brought him and Dulcy together and nothing is ever going to tear them apart.

Not his sister.

Not Macero Valentis.

Not even a nightmare of a mercenary who specializes in collecting trophies...

#the mandalorian his son and the storm trooper #what if au #Davarax #Dulsissia #Corin Valentis #Din Djarin #Paz Vizsla #Raga Saxon #Barthor #Fearsome Five #cacodaemonia is an art deity #I HAVE SO MANY FEELS OVER THIS IMAGE

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sulphuryasecretcloset · 3 years ago

Note

AU Dulcy- if you could swipe one thing from your previous upper class life and share it with your current family, what would it be? (Can include goods or services)

AU Davarax- what was the biggest adjustment you had to make living a life without a helmet?

AU Dulcy: "We got enough credits to keep a roof over our heads, food in our bellies and the Crest flying, so I won't need any more of that. And most of the stuff I used to love, big dresses and shiny jewellery would be pointless in this life. So... the one thing I would love to introduce my real family to from my old life would be a day of proper pampering at one of the relaxation villas. I only took a couple of massage lessons, Dav deserves a proper one. Can you imagine him with a face mask? That would have to be holo-imaged forever. Same with my babies. Facials and hair done, manis and pedis, massages and saunas... Definitely!"

AU Davarax: "I think the biggest adjustment was no longer being me. By that I mean that I had defined myself for so long by wearing the helmet, existing only for the Covert and my sister's mission. My whole life was gone. I was banned from my home and the only existence I knew. Without the helmet I was no one and nothing, and I had to discover who the man behind the Beskar was. Luckily I happened to like what I found a lot better than the man I left behind."

#ice breakers #what if au #Dulsissia #Davarax

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sulphuryasecretcloset · 2 years ago

Text

This is the Way

(Okay, so this one goes out to @veryapricoteggflower for the incredibly kind and encouraging words that gave me the oompf needed to post this longass piece I wrote a while back, and to @phrenic-a for the eternal patience and empathy shown when I complain about the characters making things difficult for me xD And, yeah, Dez is about to face more challenges, some more unexpected than others!)

Usually Dez prefers to train his markmanship alone, or in the company of Paz and Raga, but Davarax' threat of friendship is still something that idiot is working on and so Dez occasionally gets dragged along to do blaster target practice. Today is such a day. But Dez' crankiness turns into something boyishly giddy when, for the first time ever, Neleem shows up to watch.

She is a bit quiet and seems slightly distracted by whatever is on her mind, but she orders Dez to finish his target practice and he goes about doing just that. He's suddenly far more motivated to hit his target than usual and is beyond pleased when he does better than usual as a result.

When they have fired their last rounds, Dez twirls and whirls the blaster in his hand, showing off his best moves for Neleem's eyes while Davarax walks over to inspect their hits. Beskar Boy might be the better shot, but Dez knows he looks better, way better, while shooting, and no harm in Neleem seeing that, right? He might not have many other redeeming qualities, other than being a Vizla, but at least she married a man who looks damn good in battle.

“Do you want to try having a baby?” Neleem asks.

Dez fumbles and nearly drops the gun, reflexes making him squeeze it, and he fires off a shot that goes by dangerously close to Davarax' head.

Davarax spins around in startled anger. “That's not funny! You nearly hit me, you idiot!”

“It was an accident.” Dez shouts back at him, as flustered and startled as Davarax himself.

“Accident?” Davarax yells, angry and anything but convinced. “You just 'accidentally' nearly shot me in the head? Are you serious?!”

“Yes!” Dez is getting angry too now. Just because Beskar Boy never makes mistake, that doesn't give him the right to bite down on Dez' ass for making one. “But keep pushing me and the next one won't be an accident and it won't miss your head!”

Davarax sputters something, but Neleem places a light hand on Dez' arm and he forgets all about Beskar Boy and can't think about anything but her shocking words. “Neleem, what...?”

“I'm sorry. I shouldn't have...” Neleem looks as embarrassed as he feels. “My timing was...”

Dez shakes his head, tries to shake off the shock and his brain into working again. “Fine. It's fine. Don't worry about it. That moron deserves a little shaking up every once in a while.” He clears his throat. “I'm just slightly worried I had a stroke and misheard what you said.”

“I asked,” Neleem mumbles awkwardly, looking down at where her hand is resting on his arm, “if you wanted to try having a baby?”

Dez stares at her. So he didn't hallucinate. Is she hallucinating? “You're asking... me?” There has to be something he's misunderstanding here. She can't be asking him that. “Me?” He repeats, hoping to make her realize who she is talking to.

Neleem nods before she dares to sneak a peek up at his face. Her cheeks are flushed.

Dez struggles to find the ability to formulate sentences again. He can't even muster up any anger to respond to Davarax' snarling as he stalks by them. “Neleem, I...”

“If you don't want to, that's okay!” Neleem reassures him in a hurry as she places both hands on his chest. “It's just a question. Not an ultimatum. Not a demand. Just a question, Dez.”

It doesn't make sense. Why would she even ask? Dez notices his mouth feels horribly dry. “You never mentioned wanting... before...”

“I know.” Neleem sighs, leaning forward and resting her cheek against his chest, probably hearing the erratic beating of his heart as he hadn't armored up for mere training. His punishment for being lazy. “It wasn't something I even considered. I've always looked after other people's children and that was enough. I never felt the time was right, I never had a decent life to offer a child, and... there was never the right partner.”

Dez feels something cold traveling up his spine. Right partner? For having children? How can she say that and mean him? “Neleem. I'm a shitty father. We both know that.”

“Were.” Neleem states, wrapping her arms around his waist. “You 'were' a shitty father. You're not that man anymore. Just ask Paz. Or Liita. You didn't hesitate to adopt her, did you?”

Dez exhales. “No, because she's even meaner than I am and she'll kick my ass if she feels like it.”

Neleem lets out a soft laugh, knowing the truth of his words, but she looks up at him again and now with the softest expression in her eyes. “That girl worships you. Just like your son and his girlfriend. You're not as unlovable as you like to think, Dez Vizla. I should know because I love you too.”

Clenching his jaw, not trusting his voice right now, Dez basically scowls at her because there are far too many soft, hopeful and yearning emotions whirling away inside him at the moment.

Pulling back a little, lifting a hand and patting his chest, Neleem smiles with a painful mix of sadness and affection. “What if you think about it? No rush. No pressure. If it feels wrong for you, we won't. I promise you I can live with whatever you decide and I won't love you any less for it. It's just a question, an option, a possible possibility, okay? Our family is perfect the way it is, so, please, don't feel I need this. I'd like it, but I don't need it. You hear me?”

Dez nods. He feels numb. And he merely watches as Neleem flees.

How could she want a baby with him? Him! He has proven himself to be entirely unsuitable to the task, a complete failure to his son, and so the broken whispers of his old wish for a big family doesn't matter. He crushed that dream into a deep grave and buried it alive a long time ago.

There is no point in thinking about it. So he won't. He's a Vizla; if he decides not to do something, he won't do it.

Easy peasy.

Watching Paz and Raga train is always a treat, they are skilled for their age, but it turns a bit entertaining when they somehow manage to drag Liita into a session. Dez is sitting on the fence surrounding the sand-covered area they had created for soft landings when Paz wanders over to take a sip of his water bottle next to his father while Raga shows Liita some stances with only a mild amount of bullying involved. (Standing as far from everyone else as possible, Din and Corin are pretending to be there for training but are basically just ogling and pawing each other.)

“Raga should be careful.” Paz declares with glee, taking a deep gulp of water before looking back at the girl in question. “Liita will go after her kneecaps and show no mercy.”

“Yeah.” Usually this would amuse Dez to no end, but now he can't even get himself to smile properly. He feels... off. Weird. Unsettled.

Raga cackles and Liita snarls.

“It's weird to get a sibling when you're basically an adult, right?” Dez mumbles, glancing over at his son.

Paz shrugs, not taking his eyes off the girls. “Not really. It worked out for both of us. I mean, Liita never had siblings either and I always wanted a sister or a brother.”

Dez remembers. When Paz was just a kid, he'd asked his father for a sibling as a Life Day present three years in a row. “But it would be weird getting one now if it was, you know, a baby, right?”

Spinning around to face Dez, Paz blurts out, far too loudly; “Is Neleem pregnant?”

Dez flinches and gestures frantically for him to lower his voice. “No! No, she's not pregnant.” He glances over at Raga and Liita, feels his face grow hot as they are staring at them, then turns his focus back to his son again. It's unsettling how delighted Paz had sounded and how there is actual disappointment in his eyes upon hearing there is no new incoming sibling. “I was just making conversation. Okay?”

Paz does not look convinced.

Clearing his throat, Dez wishes he never had said anything. “She's not pregnant, I promise.” He shifts his weight a little uneasily and feels his upper lip tug at a snarl. “Stop staring at me.” He wishes he had put on his helmet before talking to his son.

Paz sighs, takes another swallow from his water before putting the bottle back where he'd gotten it from and turns to walk back to the two girls. “Nemi's karking cute and Corin hogs her all the time. Would've been nice to have my own baby sibling to show off, you know?”

Scowling, Dez watches as Paz joins up with Raga again and only realizes Liita has now taken up position next to him when she speaks.

“Pregnant, huh?” Liita mutters.

“She's not...” Dez starts off a little too angrily and has to calm his temper before he can look over at the girl next to him and finish his sentence in a calmer voice. “...pregnant. Okay?”

“Okay.” Liita replies and the two watch Paz and Raga spar for a little while. Eventually Liita speaks up again. “This having children thing, it's a big deal to Mandalorians.” “It is.” Dez confirms, now hating himself for having opened his big mouth at all.

“What if I don't want kids...?” Liita asks.

Dez shrugs. “You're just a kid yourself right now. You got plenty of time. Wait until the right guy comes along and you might change your mind.”

Liita nods, goes quiet for moment or two, then she draws a sharp breath and looks over at him. “But what if I get older and I still don't want kids? What if I never want kids?”

Her voice is low and defiant, but also somehow a little shaky. Is she worried that might make Dez regret adopting her? He absently places his arm around her and squeezes her obnoxiously tight. “Then you'll still be Liita. You'll still be my daughter. You'll still be a mechanical genius, a foul mouthed beast and a gift to any Mandalorian tribe. And that will never change. Understood?”

Liita almost smiles and has to fight hard to hide it. “Understood.” She wiggles herself free from him and is about to walk back to Paz and Raga when she glances back at Dez. “You know, you're turning into a pretty good dad, old man. I'm glad I adopted you.”

Grinning, Dez lifts his hand and gives her a rude gesture, which has her grin and return the gesture before heading over to Paz and Raga again.

Lowering his hand, Dez watches the kids train and tells himself to ignore how Liita and Paz' words start to mix with the echo of Neleem's question inside his head.

Dez does firmly not think about it at all for the next two days and pretends the tension and restlessness is just because Sobek and the others are driving him crazy with their nagging.

“I never should have said anything.” Neleem whispers a late night. “It wasn't the right time.”

“You should always tell me when you want something.” Dez declares, faking confidence. Doing things for another soul, getting them what they want, that's how you show you care, right? Borr taught him that. When Dez was a kid, his initial instinct to show he cared was always to reach out, to hug or simply touch an arm, desperately craved physical contact from others to know they cared about him as well, but his father was quick to inform him how that was a display of weakness and that affection could only be proven through usefulness. And Vizlas aren't weak. Ever.

(While he never managed to rid himself of the bad habit of hugging all together, and couldn't get himself to teach Paz that hugging was wrong, Dez did get better at being strong over the years.)

One way to burn off the frustrating restlessness gnawing inside him is working out. Dez enters the shed they had set up for lifting weights and has a moment of fierce irritation when he finds Beskar Boy there, in the middle of his own work out session. Lying on the bench, lifting and lowering the bar with enough weight to compete with Dez' own sets, Davarax still has the energy to greet him. “Hey, buddy. I'm almost done.”

Dez doesn't dignify him with an answer, merely turns away and leans against the door frame to look out at the town nearby. If he watches Davarax, odds are that he won't be able to resist pointing out mistakes and bad form and it will snow on Tatooine before Dez willingly helps Davarax get even better at something.

Staring at nothing, Dez waits in silence and isn't quite aware of what he's doing until there is a sting of pain and the taste of blood in his mouth. Only then does he realize he's gnawing at the side of the nail on his left thumb. (Nail biting. Another occasional bad habit he's never been able to shake.) There is a burst of more irritation inside him and Dez yanks his hand down to his side while he resents himself for showing such obvious signs of weakness.

He has to make it stop. Telling himself not to think about it is clearly not working. Dez is about to storm off to find some other way to vent, maybe Furyan is free to do some fighting, when the painfully obvious solution presents itself to him. If there is one person in the entire Galaxy that will tell Dez, out loud and to his face, without mercy, how bad of an idea Neleem's question is; Beskar Boy won't hesitate.

Dez clears his throat, crosses his arms and locks his gaze on the roof of one of the buildings in town. “Neleem asked if I wanted to try having a kid.”

Expecting an outburst of shock and horror, Dez is a little surprised to hear absolutely nothing from the man behind him. Nothing. Not a single word leaves Davarax' lips. Seconds go by, still nothing.

Dez clenches his jaw as more irritation burns inside him. Beskar Boy can't even do this for him.

A faint gargling sound catches Dez' attention and he automatically glances back over his shoulder, only to start and rush over as he sees Davarax choking due to the iron bar pressing down on his throat and his trembling arms being unable to lift it.

The second Dez grabs a hold of the bar and lifts it up, Davarax rolls off the bench and stumbles away, coughing and heaving for air. He rubs his throat when he is forced to a halt as he has backed up against the wall.

Puzzled, Dez just stands there like an idiot while the other idiot regains his breath and brain capacity.

“What is it with actively trying to kill me these days?!” Davarax snaps the second he's able to.

Hot fury spreads through his veins and Dez drops the bar for it to hit the floor with a thundering sound. “It's not my fault you put on more weight than you can lift!”

“I was able to lift it just fine before you came along and distracted me!” Davarax declares.

Dez snarls with burning indignation and stalks towards Beskar Boy until he's up in his face. “I'm not allowed to speak around you all of a sudden?”

Davarax takes a couple of deep breaths, shuts his eyes tight before opening them again and the anger seems to drain from his body. “I didn't mean...” He meets Dez' gaze and sighs. “I just freaked out. I couldn't breathe and... I overacted. I'm sorry.”

Dez blinks. He's... sorry? The man is apologizing? What the hell is Dez supposed to..? What is... No. Anger flares up inside him, vicious anger, and Dez throws a punch.

Unnaturally quick reflexes makes it so Davarax manages to dodge the worst of it, the fist merely grazes his cheekbone before slamming into the wall behind him, and he spins around to shove Dez face first into the very same wall. There he holds him, an arm across the back of Dez' neck, and shouts: “Will you stop trying to hit me all the time, you idiot?!”

“Then stop pissing me off!” Dez shouts back, squirming angrily.

“Then I'll have to really stop breathing as that seems to be enough to piss you off!” Davarax counters.

Ramming his elbow back into Beskar Boy, forcing him to let to and back away with a harsh breath, Dez is the one to spin around now, with every intention to beat the snot out of the other man when... Davarax' palm connects with Dez' cheek and snaps his face to the side with a loud, stinging slap.

Stunned, too shocked for anger, Dez slowly reaches up and touches the burning skin before he just as slowly turns his face back to stare at Davarax with utter disbelief.

Davarax, who is pointing a stern finger right into Dez' face. “Stop. Trying. To hit me. Okay?”

“You...” Dez stutters, struggling to believe what had just happened. “You slapped me.”

Davarax crosses his arms defensively. “Yeah. I did.”

“You slapped me. Like some Alderaan politican.” Dez rambles on, hand still on his cheek.

“It worked. Made you stop, didn't it?” This is when Davarax fails to keep a straight face and he snorts a laugh, as if he too is struggling to believe he'd just done that.

Dez hears himself snorting a laugh as well. He can't help it. It's too surreal.

Visibly relieved, Davarax reaches out and places a cautious but friendly hand on Dez' shoulder. “Are we done fighting? Can we talk now?”

Suddenly strangely reluctant to talk after his words had startled Davarax so badly he nearly suffocated himself, Dez rubs his cheek and moves to leave the damn shed. He finds he doesn't want to hear the painful truth after all. Not right now, at least. “I'm done talking.” The amiable hand on his shoulder tightens its grip and he barely gets to take one step forward before Dez is forced to a halt and he sighs. Great. He braces himself and looks over at Davarax, wanting it over with.

“You said she wanted to try. What about you? What do you want?.” Davarax says a little awkwardly.

Dez shrugs his free shoulder, trying for a neutral face but suspects he looks sullen. “What I want doesn't matter. I've already shown that I can't raise a kid.” The truth hurts. It burns. Especially in front of Beskar Boy. However, Dez is no coward and will face the pain.

Davarax looks disgustingly sympathetic. “Things are different now, Dez. You're different. And this time, you won't be raising them alone. You have a wife, family and friends to help you.”

Frowning, not liking the way agonized hope starts clawing inside his chest, Dez pretends to stare out the open door. “Having a wife, family and friends didn't prevent me from making Paz' life a misery.”

“Give me your hands.” Davarax says.

“What?” Dez looks over at him, confused.

Beskar Boy holds out his hands for Dez to place his in them. “Give me your hands.” “No.” Dez replies, pauses, then adds; “Why?”

“Because what I'm going to tell you is going to make you try to hit me again.”

Scowling, Dez does not like the sound of that. “Then don't say it.”

Davarax merely wiggles his fingers.

“No.” Dez growls and means to stalk away, but the damn man is too fast and steps in front of him again.

“Okay. Fine.” Davarax says in a rush. “No hands. Just... try not to hit me, or I'll have to slap you again.” Dez frowns, not keen on experiencing that again. It's too weird. “Fine.”

Nodding, Davarax doesn't look entirely convinced, but he does speak. “The family you had left at that time didn't care, not like Paz does. You had followers, but not real friends. And Skade-”

Dez exhales a sharp breath, physically twitching at the sound of that name, and angry heat flares up his neck. “You're right” No one says that name around him. “I want to punch you now.” He clenches his right hand into a tight fist and only manages to hold back due to pure willpower.

Davarax avoids his gaze and folds in on himself a bit to probably appear less physically intimidating and completely non-confrontational. “I'm just saying things are different now, Dez. If she wants to try for a kid and you want the same, I think you should at least talk to her. Tell her what's worrying you.” Beskar Boy huffs a faint laugh. “Fine, yeah, roll your eyes, Dez.” Did he? Yeah, probably. “But talking is what brought your son back to you. Use your words, man.” He has the audacity to give Dez' shoulder a playful slap. “Nemi would love for there to be another kid around, someone closer to her age.”

Dez is too stunned to punch him.

When dusk has crawled over the planet and people are settling down for the night, Dez is sitting on the bed, staring at the floor, when Neleem enters and walks over to him.

“Hey, are you okay?” She sounds worried.

“Sit.” Dez says, patting the mattress next to him.

Usually orders makes Neleem instantly rebellious, but there is no arrogance in his voice and the last couple of days' stifling atmosphere makes her merely sit down and she looks at him in silence as if bracing for whatever he's about to say.

Dez hesitates, has to dig deep to find the courage, then looks over at her worried face. “I've been thinking about what you said. And, I don't want to ruin another kid's life.”

Frowning, Neleem shakes her head a little. “What makes you think you would?”

“Because I'm me.” Dez says with a touch of bitter amusement. “You know what I'm like.”

Neleem reaches over and places her hand over his, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Do you want another child, Dez?”

“That doesn't matter.”

“Of course it matters.” Neleem squeezes his hand again. “And it is the first thing we need to sort out, before we talk about your worries.”

Talk. Of course. Dez should resent it, but... he finds himself willing to try. Beskar Boy was right; talking had built a tentative bridge between Dez and Paz, so maybe it could work here as well? “What I want and what is right might not be the same thing, Neleem.”

“Do you? Yes or no.”

Feeling the pressure of her question, wanting to be honest but worried what it might lead to, Dez stalls for a moment before managing a faint nod. He had sworn never to lie to her.

“Okay, good, then we can move on to the next question.” Neleem says, tugging his hand slightly to make him look over at her again. “But if you need a break or I ask something you don't want to talk about, you say 'that is enough' and we'll stop. Do you understand?”

To Dez' endless relief, she doesn't look angry, impatient or, worst of all, resentful. He feels a tiny release in his tense muscles. He even manages to fake a little nonchalance. “Ask your question, Neleem.”

“Do you understand?” Neleem repeats, clearly not moving on until he confirms so he nods. She eyes him for a moment, scanning him, then does indeed ask her question. And it is followed by others. And slowly, Neleem tugs at one string after another until she unravels a terrifying amount of Dez' fears and concerns about bringing an infant into their lives, all while gently countering them with her views and some facts he cannot deny.

After nearly two hours of feeling like he's balancing on top of the sharp edge of a blade, Dez finally buckles and, to his humiliation, has to use the words Neleem had given him.

“That's enough.” Dez reluctantly mutters. He's exhausted, like he's done battle for two hours instead of just talking, and can feel the urge to reach for anger to shield himself from more questions.

“Yeah...” Neleem replies, and to his surprise; she looks pleased with him. “Yeah, I think that's enough for tonight.” She reaches out and gently cups the side of his face. “Thank you. For this.”

“For being weak?” Dez whispers with weary bitterness.

“For being strong.” Neleem corrects him. Her eyes are stern but not cruel. She means it. Which is even weirder. “Throwing a punch is easy. I know this is very difficult for you.” She caresses his face. “But I promise; it will be worth it.”

Dez nods. It goes against everything he's been taught in the past, but he chooses to believe her.

He had told her how bad of an idea it would be for him to sire a child thinking it would result in a quick and painful resolution, but Dez discovers that he couldn't have been more wrong. Instead it results in three days of more uncomfortable talking, startling realizations and, something Dez has never agreed to in the past, compromises.

“Any child of mine will be raised as a Mandalorian.” He informs her on the second evening.

“I have no problem with that.” Neleem replies. “I've learned the value of being able to fight and defend yourself, and Mandalorian culture is something I agree with. But no child of mine will be trained with harsh words and impossible demands.”

Dez knows he should quote the old sayings, gems and decay and all that, but Davarax trained Din and the others with strict kindness and those kids are still alive alongside Paz, and they never hated their teacher, so... “Agreed.” Borr can kiss his ass from the afterworld.

And there are even some fears eased when he tells her about them.

“You're not bad with children, Dez. Last week, when Nemi climbed up on the table and got a hold of your helmet after you'd placed it there and then poured her glass of juice into it, you didn't get angry. You didn't even raise your voice.”

Dez scoffs, a little offended. “Of course not. She's just a little one.” He's a shitty person, not a monster.

Neleem takes his hand and lifts it to her lips, kissing it, before looking at him with a stunning amount of affection in her dark eyes. “No one showed you kindness or patience as a child, yet you know to apply both to toddler antics. Don't you see how wonderful that is?”

He doesn't. But the way she looks at him when she's saying this? It gives him even more hope.

And slowly; after the uncomfortable conversations, after going from resenting the words she'd given him to stop the talking to feeling less reluctant to enter into the conversations because of them, (Especially as Neleem doesn't resent him for using said words.) the idea of a child becomes increasingly less scary and more like the wonderful creation his younger self had considered them.

There will be a cost, he knows that, but... The happiest time in his life had been the years after Paz was born. And seeing his son just about grown up, the person he's become despite having such a bad father, Dez has never been more proud. To have and to share that with Neleem... Isn't that worth the heartache guaranteed to follow? He's not a coward, dank farrik.

“Let's go for it.” Dez says on the fourth night as they are drifting off to sleep.

Neleem lifts her head and squints sleepily at him through the darkness. “Are you saying what I think you're saying?”

“Yeah.” Dez replies, glancing over at her and smiling a bit at her sleepy expression. He's strangely at peace with his decision. Worried? Yes. Dreading what the cost will be? Definitely. Yet, Neleem's calm and her belief in him, it makes him want it anyway.

Frowning, Neleem reaches up and touches his face. “We don't have to, remember? We're just talking about it.”

“I know.” Dez reassures her.

Neleem hums with a faint smile, curls back down under the covers and lets sleep claim her.

The next day, she spends the entire morning and part of the day to grill Dez on his decision, prodding and prying and making sure he's not simply indulging her. She seems wary but hopeful and when Dez doesn't change his mind or waver in his decision at all; Neleem is finally convinced.

Two days later, after a long day of hassling Beskar Boy, Dez is getting comfortable in bed when Neleem walks in and pauses by the bed to just stand there. Instantly alert, worried there is bad news, Dez frowns. “What's wrong?”

“I had the chip turned off.” Neleem tells him, her keen eyes scanning his face for his reaction.

The words do land heavy in Dez' gut, but they also bring a nervous excitement. “Well then,” Dez says, reaching out a hand, “no time to waste.”

Laughing, Neleem takes his hand and lets him gently pull her down next to him. She is trying hard to act calm and collected, but her eyes give her away as they shine with the exact same nervous excitement. “You know, me being a togruta and you being a human, it might not work at all. It doesn't always.”

Dez moves closer and takes a light hold of her chin as he fails to hold back a faint smile. “You and me, working on something together? Cyare, we'll get it right on the very first try.”

Now Neleem outright giggles, definitely nervous but not in a bad way. She tugs him along as she rolls over on her back and gives him an outright coy smile. “Big words, tough guy.”

“You'll see I'm right.” Dez murmurs, then leans down for a beginning kiss.

After a fun and delightfully vigorous night, Dez fails to react at all when there is a harsh knock on the door far too early next morning. He's deep into sleep, his face deep into the pillow, when the knocking comes again and once again it doesn't even register with him.

It's on the third round of knocking, accompanied with an irritated shout of; “Dez! Wake your ass up!” from outside the room, when Neleem reaches over and blindly slaps the back of her hand against Dez' shoulder blade and forces him to react.

Grunting annoyed, Dez pushes himself up, squints a glare of hatred at the door before getting out of bed. He yanks on a pair of pants and stomps over to maim whomever is making all of this noise.

It makes absolutely PERFECT sense that the sinner turns out to be Beskar Boy himself.

Bracing one arm against the side of the door frame, Dez scowls at Davarax. “This had better be important. I am one wrong word from punching your face.”

“Get dressed.” Davarax says, all stern business and with no sign of this being a joke. “I need your help. We got to go.”

Dez is suddenly awake, but Neleem is the one who speaks first.

“What's going on?” She asks, sitting up in bed with the covers wrapped around herself, and looking more than a little worried.

Davarax radiates tension and... anger? He hesitates before looking over at her. “Some mercs ambushed Zev and Mose. She's hurt bad, Dulcy is patching her up, but she made it back here to get help. They shot Mose up with something, something that knocked him out, and they took him away, talking about how they were finally rich.”

Dez simply moves over to get fully dressed and armoured up. Time to go and kill some mercs.

Neleem gives a faint shake of her head in utter disbelief and horror. “How can I help?”

“Stop the kids from going after us.” Davarax replies. “They'll want to come along when they find out, and me and Dez need to focus on tracking the mercs down and getting Mose back.”

“You and Dez?” Neleem looks from one to the other. “Just the two of you? Aren't you bringing the others?”

Davarax looks down at the floor and he sighs.

“They won't help.” Dez says in a flat voice, attaching his breastplate and making sure it is secure before picking up his left pauldron to attach that as well. “Mose is not a Mandalorian. He's not officially family. I'm not sure if any of them have even spoken to him. They won't see this as their business.”

“Then order them.” Neleem snaps, getting an even tighter grip on the sheets before shuffling across the mattress on her knees to sit kneeling at the very edge and as close as she can get to Dez. “You're their leader, right? You can order them to help.”

Dez attaches the second pauldron. “I could.” He connects his flame thrower and grabs his helmet and his jetpack. “But I wouldn't be leader for long if I did.” Pausing next to Davarax, Dez looks back at Neleem with calm confidence. “Don't worry. Me and this idiot got this.” Some mercs? Dez has taken on worse opponents by himself and barely broken a sweat. With Beskar Boy as a distraction, this will be easy peasy.

Neleem is not happy, but she manages to nod with reluctant acceptance. “Be careful. Get him back. And hurry home.”

Dez and Davarax nod in unison before they walk out of the room and set course for the Razor Crest. “Stocked up?” Dez asks, meaning weapons and ammunition.

“Always.” Davarax replies. “We're good.” Of course. As if Beskar Boy would be lacking in any department. But for today, Dez will forgive him for his disgusting perfection because it makes their mission easier. Davarax is right; if the kids wake up and find out what has happened to Mose, they'll want to come along and will end up slowing them down instead. Better hurry.

They make it to the ship, barely visible in the semi-darkness of the very crack of dawn, but Dez exhales with annoyed frustration when it becomes clear that two shapes are waiting for them in front of the ship's ramp.

Dulsissia has her arms crossed and a tense frown on her face, but her gaze is resting on the soul next to her rather than the two Mandalorians approaching, because next to her is Zev'sonya.

Dez notes that the girl has what looks like a broken arm bandaged up in a sling, several cuts on her face and a worryingly stubborn expression on her angry face.

“I'm coming with you.” Zev'sonya states.

“Zev...” Davarax sighs, shaking his head. “You-”

“I'm coming with you.” Zev'sonya cuts him off, her voice and her eyes as hard as Beskar.

“I tried to stop her.” Dulsissia says, sounding as unhappy as she looks.

“You come along, you do as you're told. Understood?” Dez says. He doesn't have time for this. “If you don't obey orders, I will knock you out and stuff you in the weapons storage.”

Zev'sonya looks even less pleased, but she nods.

“Excellent.” Dez stalks inside the ship. “Let's go.”

The girl keeps quiet for most of the time, she stares out at the stars with a harsh glare in her eyes, but after about two standard days of hunting around for information about those honourless mercs and their location; Zev'sonya finally snaps.

“This is taking too long!” Zev'sonya shouts when Dez and Davarax enter the Razor Crest after another visit to a planet that results in nothing but vague rumours regarding the mercs' lair. “I thought you guys were supposed to be good at this. We have to find them before they kill Mose!”

Pausing next to her in the cargo area, Davarax sighs as he takes off his helmet, about to answer, when Dez walks by them and tells her the truth instead: “They won't kill him. Mose is worth far more to them alive. They are going to keep that big heart of his beating so he can earn them more credits. They are probably planning on draining him for years.” He ignores the stink-eye Beskar Boy sends his way and simply climbs up to the cockpit to start up the ship's engines.

“Listen.” Davarax' voice drifts up from below. “He should have said that a little... differently, but Dez is right about one thing: they won't kill Mose. They won't. He's too valuable.”

“It's my fault...” Zev'sonya whispers.

“It's not your fault. It was a fight you couldn't win.” Davarax offers her. And, knowing him, he probably hugs her. “We will find him and we will get him back. Okay? I promise.”

Dez rolls his eyes. Beskar Boy saving the day again. Dez plots in new coordinates and sets the ship into motion. Let them talk, he'll work on finding the big boy.

It takes another day to finally gets some solid information, but of course Davarax finds the one person in the Galaxy who knows where the two mercs are hiding and gets the truth out of the unfortunate soul. (Dez had almost forgotten how scary Davarax can get when he's truly angry.) And after that, it takes two standard days to get to the space station where their prey is supposed to be hiding.

“You stay here.” Davarax says to Zev'sonya as she stands and watches him and Dez load up on weapons after landing the Razor Crest on the station. Their excuse about needing to land for repairs, offering to pay a lot of credits to be allowed to use their dock, means they won't have long before someone comes snooping around and the fighting begins.

“But I-” The girl starts objecting.

“We had a deal.” Dez tightens the strap on the holster attached to his thigh with one sharp tug before stalking over to grab a rifle from Davarax' collection on the wall. “You do as your told. Or am I knocking you out?” He does not have the time or the patience for this.

“Zev, listen,” Davarax says, eternally patient, “I need you to stay here. Me and Dez will go get Mose, but that means leaving the Crest and someone has to protect her; without her, we won't be going anywhere after we get him back. Understand?”

Clenching her jaw, Zev'sonya nods.

Davarax hands her a blaster. “Good.” He gives her upper arm a light squeeze, offers her a faint smile, before he walks over to grab a rifle of his own and puts his helmet on. “Dez. Let's go.”

“Waiting on you, Saint Bleeding Heart.” Dez declares, standing by the ramp and feeling more than a little impatient to get going. “Just waiting on you.”

They almost make it to the door leading into the station. Almost. But one sharp-eyed idiot sees them and raises the alarm. That's how the fighting begins.

The opponents are all mediocre mercs and honourless pirates who fight dirty like the cowards they are, which makes it extra fun for Dez to charge at them like a furious bantha to shatter bones as well as spill blood as he ends their lives. Meanwhile, Davarax is all business, sharp and efficient, picking his targets off with one well placed shot after another. Together they fight their way through the armed riffraff and the narrow hallways until they stand facing a metal door the mercs had clumped together to protect. If that isn't an obvious sign that this is where they're keeping Mose, nothing is.

“You okay?” Davarax asks as they are the only ones left standing outside the door.

Dez grunts annoyed as he checks his bleeding arm. A nikto had gotten in a lucky shot and the blast had grazed his arm. Why does a graze hurt more than the three shots Sungodt had placed in his chest? “I'm fine. Just a graze.” Dank farrik. He feels like killing the nikto again. Why did he have to land that shot? Why? Davarax doesn't have a scratch on him. If he wasn't wearing his helmet, Dez is willing to bet that his stupidly perfect hair wouldn't have one strand out of place.

“Good. Let's grab Mose and get out of here.” Davarax says, prodding his vambrace to start slicing the code lock to the door and within seconds it slides open.

Davarax steps into the grey and brightly lit room first.

Inside, there are a handful of mercenaries, including the two who Zev'sonya had descibed to perfection as the ones behind the ambush, and behind them all is Mose's big shape. He looks unconscious, eyes closed and head sagging. His body is trapped against the southern wall where it is held up by several broad metal restraints. There are two long, winding tubes going into each arm, plus tubes sticking into his neck on both sides, all of them dark with blood being drawn out of him and transported into some large see-through containers lined up on a table next to him.

“You are going to regret this.” Davarax growls, voice tight with anger.

“This is our Hutt!” One of the mercs declares. He's the only human among the cretins; visibly scared but too greedy to run. He had been one of the two responsible for the ambush.“Besides, why would a Mandalorian care what we do with a Hutt?!”

“Mandalorian culture is all about protecting our children.” Davarax says, aiming his blaster at the idiot who had opened his mouth and is unfazed by how everyone else aim their weapon at him in return. “And that Hutt is one of my kids.”

Amidst the snickers of disbelief, the other merc Zev'sonya had described takes a step forward and places the muzzle of his blaster inches from Davarax' visor. “There's six of us and you're alone. Bad odds, Mando.”

“He's not alone.” Dez counters, entering as well with one blaster in each hand, aiming at the enemy. Usually he is a firm believer in keeping emotions and getting a job done separate, things tend to get messy if you don't, but in this particular case; he'll make an exception. He can see signs of how there had been a struggle in that room and how one of Mose's eyes is swollen shut. “You kidnapped my nephew, you morons. Stupid. Real stupid.”

The tallest of the mercs draws a breath to say something else but never gets to actually speak as Dez fires and the shot bursts through him. At the same time, Davarax turns his head to let the Beskar helmet deflect the shot fired at it while he takes down another merc with his blaster.

This fight is a bit more difficult, simply because the room is so small that it doesn't give them much room to maneuver combined with the risk of accidentally hitting Mose, but one by one the enemies fall and Dez feels a flicker of delight when Davarax ignores the wailing complaints of the merc leader who had aimed his blaster at him and simply ends his life with cold efficiency.

No one hurts their family and gets away with it.

Dez walks by him, smacking a hand at Davarax' pauldron to snap him out of his killing frenzy, and the two make their way over to Mose.

“Hey, Mose, you awake?” Davarax asks, examining the metal restraints to see how to open them.

There is a faint groan from Mose, but he doesn't open his eyes.

Dez kneels down and starts working on the metal restraint pinning down Mose's tail. “He's not going to be able to shuffle, slither, whatever. How are we going to get him back to the ship?”

“I don't know...” Davarax admits, ramming the tip of a vibroblade into the lock to make it short-circuit and open. “Any ideas? He seems pretty out of it.”

Dez grunts, bending the metal away from the bruised tail and moving on to the restraint across Mose's lower belly. “Are there any stim packs in this place?” This room looks like a twisted version of a medical bay. Surely there has to be some medical supplies?

“No idea.” Davarax replies, pulling the tubes out of Mose's arms. “But I'm not sure how, or even if, Hutt biology reacts to stims.”

Exhaling no small amount of frustration, why hadn't they thought of this, Dez looks up at Mose's face and has a crazy idea. “We'll have to carry him.”

“There's no way we'll be able to carry him.” Davarax gently taps the side of Mose's face, trying to make him wake up through sheer force of hope.

Dez starts working on another metal restraint, the one across the middle of the big belly. “We might.” He forces the lock open. “If we disable the safety on our jetpacks.”

Davarax pauses, considers it, probably mulls over how dangerous it could be as those restrictions are there for a reason. If they overheat, they will either shut down or explode, the latter one bound to either kill or severely injure them. Eventually Davarax still gives a decisive nod. “It's worth a try.” He turns his back towards Dez. “Do it.”

Dez finishes opening the restraint on Mose then quickly moves over to open a panel on Davarax' jetpack, plucking out a couple of wires and after a moment of hesitation, he cuts them. Dez turns and waits for Davarax to do the same with his, then they both go back to freeing the Hutt.

When the final restraint is gone, Mose instantly sags forward and they grab an arm each and ease it over their shoulders to hold him somewhat upright between them. Dank farrik, he's heavy.

Davarax looks over at Dez. “You ready?”

Dez takes a breath. “Yeah.” He ignores the warning that flashes on his HUD in regards to damage done to his jetpack and the ache in his back from holding up Mose's weight. “Watch his tail.” If Mose moves it near the blast, that tail will be gone.

They activate their jetpacks, which instantly tries to lift them according to data from earlier flights and keeps increasing in power when they're not moving. Soon they are boosting up beyond what is safe...

Eventually the combined force of their jetpacks pushing hard enough to lift a small starfighter has them a couple of inches over the floor and able to start moving ever so slowly towards where the Razor Crest is waiting for them. (The fact that the intense heat from their jetpacks melts deep groves into the floor that will be a nightmare to fix is oddly pleasing to Dez.) Time to go.

Back in the hangar, they arrive to find three fallen bodies next to the Crest which proves Zev'sonya had taken her role as the ship's guardian quite seriously. Dez is starting to really like this girl.

“Is he okay?” Zev'sonya exclaims as she appears at the top of the ramp and runs towards them.

“Anemic and sedated, I think.” Davarax replies, his voice strained. Both he and Dez are sweating like crazy after what feels like carrying a dewback for ten hours.

They get on board the ship, eases Mose down to rest in the cargo area, and Dez heads up to the cockpit to start the ship's engines, leaving Zev'sonya to look after her friend and Beskar Boy to deal with the two glowing hot jetpacks that might still explode at any moment.

The Razor Crest comes to life and disappears into the darkness of space before the few remaining souls on the space station can muster up any kind of counter-attack.

Even after an entire hour of nothing happening, other than daring to take off his helmet, Dez continues to keep an eye on the radar, just in case. He doesn't look over when Davarax finally joins him in the cockpit and stands next to him. “The kids okay?”

“Mose seems okay, but not quite ready to dance yet. Zev is watching over him like a broody tipyip.” Davarax replies. He then has the audacity to touch the bloodstained fabric on Dez' arm. “I'll help you with this.”

Dez yanks his arm away and finally takes his eyes off the radar to glare up at Beskar Boy. Does he think he can't handle a damn graze? He's no weakling in distress, he's a Vizla! “You think I need your help? You think I can't deal with this myself?”

Davarax takes his helmet off and walks over to place it on the co-pilot seat. “I didn't say that. I just said I would help you with it. That's all.” He opens a panel and takes out a medical kit and has the nerve to walk back to Dez' side. “Let me help you, okay?”

Clenching his jaw, Dez keeps quiet and reluctantly lets Davarax take a hold of his arm and start cleaning the wound with a disinfectant. Things goes from insulting to weird and downright uncomfortable because Davarax takes his time, keeps his touch light and gently dabs the blood away instead of just wiping it clean and burning it shut. It feels... nice. And 'nice' and 'Davarax' do not mix well together up in Dez' head. “Can you hurry up?” He snaps.

“Why?” Beskar Boy asks a little absently, crouching next to him, focused on his work.

“I could have dealt with it a lot faster myself.” Dez declares. “I don't have time for this.”

“Oh?” Davarax finally looks up at him. “Are you in a hurry? Going somewhere? Did the Emperor summon you? No? Then shut up and let me do this.”

Dez blinks, utterly surprised.

“Dulcy taught me something.” Davarax says with a disgusting touch of warmth to his voice. He starts cleaning the wound again. “Just because we can tolerate pain doesn't mean we have to seek it unnecessarily, Dez. There is no honour in that. As Dulcy says; it's just silly.”

Dez clenches his jaw and stares out the transparisteel. “You're an idiot.”

Davarax huffs a soft laugh and begins wrapping his arm with a bacta bandage.

The second the wound is dealt with, Dez yanks his arm away and demonstrably stares at the radar. “Good deed done. Now, get out.”

“Nope.” Davarax declares in a horribly cheerful tone. “This is my ship. You get out. You're in my seat.”

Hot fury flares up and it takes no small amount of will-power for Dez not to punch him. So what if he's right? Beskar Boy doesn't get to order him around! However, Dez is tired, he just wants to get back to Neleem, so fighting with Davarax just isn't worth it right now. Instead, Dez gets up, scowls at Davarax, who happily ignores him, and leaves the cockpit. Might as well get some sleep.

Below, in the cargo area, Dez glances back at the other two souls on the ship as he steps away from the ladder. That, unfortunately, results in making eye-contact with the girl and she of course takes that as a sign to walk over and talk to Dez. Great...

“How is he?” Dez asks, nodding towards Mose. It's the one thing he's interested in hearing about.

“Asleep again. They got him pretty heavily sedated.” Zev'sonya replies. Her voice is hard with hatred for the mercs who had done this. “But he's going to be okay.” She hesitates, looks as uncomfortable as Dez feels, clears her throat and forces the next words out. “Thank you.”

Dez keeps his focus on Mose. “I'm a Mandalorian. I don't let kids get kidnapped and bled.”

“But you didn't have to call him your nephew.” Zev'sonya counters, a tiny tinge of fragility in her voice. “Me and him, we didn't really have much of a family before, so... I know what that meant to him.”

Two things happen at once: Dez can feel his face flush with embarrassment and a thought strikes him: - It's me? Dank farrik, Paz has it from me!

Dez has always huffed at how his son's face will turn red whenever he's embarrassed, putting his emotions on display for everyone to see, but now Dez can feel his own face burning and he desperately wishes he hadn't removed his helmet. He's never thought much about what was going on with his own face in the past as he always wore his helmet around others. Plus; no one dared to say or do anything to make Dez feel embarrassed so it wasn't really something that happened a lot.

“It's, uh, yeah, he's... you're both... yeah...” Dez awkwardly pats her shoulder, then turns and stalks over to the corner furthest away from them to sit down there.

Luckily the girl takes the hint and goes back to Mose.

Dez' arm should be aching and smelling of burned flesh, instead it is only slightly sore and the bacta doing its work tickles a bit. Dez' face is still hot and he knows he acted like an idiot in addition to looking like one. His stomach is a tense ball. His jaw aches from clenching it so hard.

Sitting in the shadows, scowling at nothing, Dez misses the old days when he didn't have to deal with weird situations like this!

Davarax joins them in the cargo hold later on, telling them that he'd informed Dulcy and the others that Mose is safe and that they're heading home.

Home. Dez tastes the word. Home? He's had Coverts in the past, but never a home... Frowning, he curls up tighter and looks away from where Beskar Boy and his two children are talking together.

It's a long journey back. Once the Razor Crest finally touches ground, Dez stands by the door and waits eagerly for it to lower the ramp and let him out of this prison. Freedom is within reach when he realizes someone has moved to stand next to him. Dez tenses up.

“Thank you.” Mose mumbles.

Oh. A bit of the tension bleeds away from his shoulders. Dez keeps his gaze on the door. “No thanks needed. We look after our own, you know that.”

“It's why few people would be stupid enough to kidnap a Mandalorian. A Hutt, though...” Mose sighs. “Thank you.”

Dez slowly turns his head and looks over at Mose. “Hey...” He meets the Hutt's gaze, holds it firm as he repeats his words to leave no room for doubt. “We look after our own.”

Luckily the ramp lowers at this point, giving him a chance to escape and not having to deal with all the emotions he can see whirling in those big Hutt eyes.

Outside of the ship, the kids are waiting with accusatory glares and anxious concern, only Liita seems to be missing, but Dez doesn't stop to talk to them. He'll only mess it up by saying something wrong, so he'll let Beskar Boy say the right things. He gives Paz' shoulder a light squeeze as he walks by him, pleased to see he's there and doing well, ignores his son's questions, quickly shies away from Dulsissia hovering behind his boy and heads instead for Neleem standing in the doorway.

“Hey.” Dez says with a slight smile as he comes to a halt in front of her.

Her dark eyes linger on his bandaged arm for a moment before she studies his face. “Hey. Are you okay?”

“I am now.” Dez replies. “Can we go inside?” The loud talking by the ship is grating on his brain.

Only when they're inside their private room does the tension leave his shoulders entirely and Dez can finally relax. He even manages to give Neleem a real grin. He's missed her. Looking at her now, he recognizes what that feeling in his chest had been. He's missed her like crazy. Dez takes her hand, eases her closer and steals a kiss from her lips. “What about you, Vizla Baby Mama? You been doing okay while I was gone?”

Neleem rolls her eyes, but she fails to hide her flustered smile. “I somehow managed to survive while sitting by the window, wringing my hands and counting the days for your return.” She steals a kiss of her own as he breathes an amused laugh before she pushes Dez away and gives him a haughty look. “But I am going to knock your ego down a notch.”

Even more amused, Dez leans back against the door and gives her his most obnoxious smirk. “Oh?”

Raising a coy eyebrow, Neleem saunters over to the corner table and picks up the medical scanner lying there. She holds it up for him to see. “Ready?” Not really waiting for an answer, Neleem scans herself and turns the scanner to read the results.

And in front of his eyes, Neleem transforms from smug confidence to shocked silence. Her eyes widen with stunned disbelief.

“Told you.” Dez says, concluding that the scan must have shown she's pregnant. Just like he said she would be. Hah. He takes a deep breath. So, it's really happening. There's going to be a child. Dez takes another deep breath, then wonders if there is something wrong with him or the room or the air itself, because neither breath helped and he needs oxygen. Now. He clears his throat and shakes his head a little. He can't get sick as they're having a child together.

“Dez?” Neleem slowly lowers the scanner.

Dez forces himself to smile. His lungs ache. Why isn't he getting enough air? And why is the room getting so karking bright? He gulps down some more air. His fingertips feel cold.

“Dez!” Neleem rushes over, grabs his arm and starts dragging him towards their bed. “Sit down. Come on, sit down.” Dez nods and sits down as he's inexplicably dizzy.

“Keep your head down.” Neleem says, running her hand in circles on his back. “Breathe. That's it.”

Nodding a couple of times more, Dez tries to focus on breathing and eventually his stupid body remembers to do its job and his chest starts to decompress.

“Dez...” Neleem's hand rests on her back and her voice is small and uncertain. “Are you having second thoughts? Are you regretting-” “No.” Dez sits up straight in a hurry and looks right into her eyes. “No, I want this.” He says, and means it. “With you. I do.”

Neleem's eyes glimmer with tears and even a bit of relief. She sags forward and rests her forehead against his shoulder.

Easing his arm around her, Dez tells himself that he'll get things right this time. He will. He has to.

Neleem:

Everything changes after she learns she's pregnant. Neleem was prepared for things to change, knew there would be challenges because life never makes anything easy, and she was willing to work through them if it meant they would come out happier and stronger on the other end. She prepared herself for all kinds of scenarios. Even the worst.

(Dez agrees to keep the pregnancy a secret for the first couple of months, respectful even though he doesn't share her concerns about how her being a togruta and him being human increases the risk of things going wrong. “Neleem, our kid has Vizla blood and that makes them as tough and resilient as Beskar. You'll see.”)

But what Neleem couldn't prepare for was the downright weird, which is exactly how Dez starts to behave.

At first she keeps thinking he is regretting his decision as he becomes distant and will barely touch her, but that also doesn't make sense as she will catch him looking at her, when he thinks she isn't paying attention, and his eyes are warm and happy. He'll curl up on his side of the bed at night, making sure there is distance between them, but if she curls up to him, he'll hold her like he never wants to let go. Trying to talk to him about it only gives her elusive answers which leaves her confused and him visibly anxious. It doesn't make sense.

Maybe it's just Mandalorian culture? Dez had told her from the very start that it wasn't a way of life built on sentimentality or softness in general. Even their weddings were private and efficient rather than a big celebration of love.

“When you were pregnant with Nemi,” Neleem tries to sound nonchalant when she speaks to Dulcy, “what was Davarax like? All stoic Mandalorian attitude?”

“Velcro.” Dulsissia firmly replies before laughing and shaking her head, fully focused on whatever she is writing. “I swear, that man couldn't keep his hands off me. It was a complete opposite to when I was carrying Corin. Dav was so sweet and clingy that I wanted to marry him all over again every single day.”

Neleem swallows hard and stares out the window. Not Mandalorian culture then. Is it her?

She finally gets a piece to the puzzle one morning in their room when Neleem is running a hand over her belly, it's only been a couple of months but she swears she can feel a distinct change, and she catches Dez sneaking a peek over at her while pretending to work on something on his vambrace.

“It might just be my imagination,” Neleem says, “but if what I'm feeling is real, we might end up with another Paz-sized kid around here.”

Dez pauses in his work and his gaze rests on the hand she has on her stomach.

Neleem decides to risk it. “You want to feel?”

That seems to shock him. “I can?”

“Yeah.” Neleem barely has gotten the word out before he's up on his feet and over by her side, his hand sliding next to hers. There is a faint, but giddy smile on his lips. It's sweet. And reassuring.

This experience is not new to him, but it is to her and frankly, at times it is a bit scary.

“Does it feel like with Paz?” Neleem asks with a nervous laugh. He must have been a huge baby.

To her surprise, Dez snorts amused. “Are you kidding me? Skade made it perfectly clear she'd break my wrist and possibly my neck if I touched her after she got pregnant.” He caresses her stomach and gives her a bright and excited grin. “You definitely feel different.”

Neleem holds on to her smile through pure willpower combined with the joy she feels about his obvious delight in the moment, but her mind is chewing on what Dez had said. He rarely, barely at all, talks about his former wife and has made it clear that it is not something he wants to talk about. All this time Neleem figured it was anger over her walking out on their son and his pride being hurt due to a broken marriage that made it an off-limit topic, but now an uneasy feeling is churning inside her chest. What if there is more to it than that?

She needs to learn a bit more about this Skade...

“Hey, Paz, can I talk to you?” Neleem asks, approaching where he is sitting on the fence in the backyard of the house, watching Raga doing target practice with increasing skill and decreasing patience with every shot she deems less than perfect. It's just the two kids there. Perfect.

Paz glances over at Neleem and shrugs with easy trust. “Sure. What's on your mind?”

He really is a sweet boy. Young man is more like it, considering his age, but Dulcy is right; they will always be babies to them. Paz has his father's eyes. Only with far less bitterness in them. Neleem hesitates, suddenly worried it might not be a good idea to go through with it, but an encouraging smile gives her the courage needed. “Listen, I want to ask you something and you are absolutely allowed to tell me to mind my own business, okay?”

Frowning confused, Paz nods.

Another moment of hesitation before Neleem asks. “What was your mother like? You were quite young when she left, I know, I was just wondering what you remember of her. Dez refuses to talk about her, as you know.”

A harshness emerges in Paz' eyes and his mouth draws into a thin line. Neleem is pathetically relieved that it is quite obvious that his anger is not directed at her, but rather his mother. It makes sense. She'd be angry too if her mother just left without a word.

“I don't remember too much...” Paz grumbles. “But I do remember her. I remember her voice. She was always shouting. Arguing. So while I wanted her attention, it was never a good idea to actually get it.” He clears his throat to buy himself some time to bottle up his feelings again. “Sorry. That's not really helpful, is it?”

“Actually, it is.” Neleem replies a little wistfully. It strengthens her suspicions. She reaches out and runs her hand up and down his arm. “I didn't mean to open old wounds. I'm sorry. I just... He refuses to talk about her and I didn't know who else to ask.”

Paz nods, clearly weighed down by old memories. “It's okay. I've tried to get him to talk about her several times, but it's like ramming your head against a wall, isn't it? After she left, it was like saying her name would summon some horrible spirit.” He suddenly sits up a little straighter and looks a bit defiant. “You know, as a kid I thought it was somehow my fault that she left. Now I'm glad she left and I want her to stay gone.” His words take on a softer tone. “After Dulcy entered the Covert and I saw her with Davarax, I saw how two people who love each other should behave. And then, when you came along, I actually saw my father happy. I never saw him happy with my mother.” He blinks as he realizes something. “Hey, you should ask Davarax. He probably remembers a lot more than I do. And useful stuff too.”

“What are you two talking about?” Raga asks as she walks over to them, clearly too curious to keep practicing her accuracy.

“My mother.” Paz replies before Neleem can say anything.

Raga makes a face as she takes up position next to Paz, resting her arms on top of the fence he's sitting on. “Oof. Old Man Vizla won't like that.”

“No, he won't.” Paz drawls, then grins. “But what he doesn't know can't hurt him. Or piss him off.”

That has Raga cackling an approving laugh.

“Do you remember her, Raga?” Neleem asks, now that the secret is out anyway.

Raga shrugs and wrinkles her nose. “Barely. I was only four when she left. I remember she was tall and loud and that she was the only one who could make 'my' mother shut up, which is why I think my mother, and my father, never liked her.”

“Ask Davarax.” Paz repeats, far more gently than Neleem deserves for being so nosy.

But it takes her close to six days before Neleem is given a chance to talk to Davarax in private. She learns he's going to do some fine-tuning on the Razor Crest's computer system, the man showers that ship with as much love and attention as he does his wife and children, Din being in town with Dulcy and Corin means he'll be alone, and that is the perfect opportunity.

Entering the cockpit of the Razor Crest, Neleem sees the broad shouldered shape of Davarax sitting his the pilot seat. She forces herself to walk over to stand next to him and glues on a smile. “Hey.”

In the middle of plotting in commands on the computer, he sends her a quick glance accompanied with a, mildly confused, smile of his own. “Hey. Something wrong?”

“No.” Neleem makes her way over to the co-pilot seat and sinks down to sit down at the very edge of it. “I, uhm, I wanted to ask you something. In private.”

That catches his attention and Davarax pushes two more buttons before he sits up straight and focuses on her completely with an amused look on his face. “Okay, now you got me curious.”

Neleem breathes a nervous laugh, nodding to acknowledge the weirdness of the situation, and she looks down at the floor because eye contact would rob her of her courage. “I wanted to ask you... if you could tell me about Paz' mother? What was she like?”

Davarax hums and he leans back in his seat. “I take it Dez still refuses to talk about her?”

Glancing up at Davarax, Neleem nods. “I was fine with it as long as I thought he was angry with her on his son's behalf and nurturing his own wounded pride, but...”

“But?” Davarax gently prods, now with concern in his eyes.

“But now I think I need to now more about her.” Neleem hopes Dez will forgive her for this if he ever finds out. (He doesn't want to talk about his first wife, but that doesn't mean Neleem can't ask others, right?) “Will you tell me about her?”

Davarax hesitates, stalls for a moment by looking forward through the transparisteel, then he finally glances back at her and lifts a warning finger. “For the record, the things I'm about to tell you, this was the time before me and Dez became best buddies forever and ever. Okay? Back then, me and him weren't... exactly... simpatico. That doesn't mean I feel the same way now. Just, keep that in mind, yeah?”

Neleem nods. “Duly noted.” She knew she had married a complicated man with a complicated past.

Clearing his throat, Davarax looks a little awkward. “So, her name was Skade. She was tall, loud and obnoxious. Just like Dez. I thought they were perfect for each other.”

“They were quite young when they got married, right?” Neleem has done the math based on Paz' age compared to his father's.

“Yeah.” Davarax confirms. “Dez was eighteen.” He frowns and scratches at the stubbled front of his throat as he rummages through the past. “Skade was either twenty two or twenty three. I'm not sure. It was quite the surprise. Nobody expected that marriage to happen as she always had a thing for Pre, who ironically couldn't care less about her. All he cared about was preparing for war.”

Neleem wonders if the nausea she's feeling is the pregnancy or what she's hearing. “He didn't even care that she married his younger brother?”

“He was furious.” Davarax says. “Not so much because Dez married Skade, but that Dez had the audacity to marry at all. He expected him to help him prepare for war, not start a family. However, as we both know, Dez is as stubborn and ornery as a sore-hoofed mudhorn and does whatever he wants.”

“Dez was in love with her.” Neleem whispers. She's seen what he's willing to do for love.

“Probably.” Davarax replies, then makes a face. “Kind of hard to tell. They were fighting from day one. Always shouting and yelling and snarling.”

That she did not expect. Neleem blinks surprised. “From the very beginning?”

“Yup.” Davarax confirms and then shakes his head with resigned bafflement. “I just figured it was their thing. I mean, it sounded exhausting and mean to me, but whatever rocked their boat, right?”

It doesn't make sense to Neleem. Arguments always leave Dez distressed. No, he's at his most content when they are basically cuddling. “They spent five years together, fighting non-stop?”

“Yeah.” Davarax huffs. “They were fighting about Pre's war preparations, about how Dez was reluctant to take over as the clan leader and replace Pre, about how to raise their son, about Dez' choice of armor, about how they didn't have the largest of the Vizla living quarters, about Dez losing a fight to Furyan, about my sister choosing to send me out on most missions, about Dez being lazy, about Dez not...” His voice trails off and Davarax suddenly frowns as he seems to lose himself in his memories. His eyes flicker as if he's watching a holo-movie rushing by him. Then there is a flare of hot anger in Davarax' eyes before he squeezes them shut and thumps his head back, hard, against the headrest of the pilot seat.

Startled, Neleem flinches a bit. “Davarax?”

“He didn't fight back.” Davarax grits out, voice tight with the anger she'd seen, and he seems to need a moment to get control of it before he can open his eyes again and look at her. “I just realized; he never fought back. It was always her. She was always yelling and complaining and he'd barely open his mouth.” A bitter smile. “And I didn't realize until this very moment because I was too busy being selfish and jealous. Dez was a jerk and yet he was living my dream, a partner and children, while I was hunting down felons with no hope of anything else in my future.” He thumps his head again, clearly frustrated, before he takes a deep breath and lets it out in a controlled exhale. “I can't believe I didn't realize. The guy was drowning in front of my eyes for years and I didn't see it. No wonder he's been so angry with me.”

Despite how his words had made the unease she'd felt about Dez' past triple, Neleem can't help but to reach out and take a light hold of Davarax' hand. “Listen, you were both kids back then. And you had your own problems. Don't be too hard on yourself, okay?”

Davarax grunts, torn between the urge to blame himself and doing as he's told. “Next time he tries to punch me, I'm going to let him.”

Neleem has to smile, despite everything, and she squeezes his hand. “I don't think that'll achieve much, do you?”

Shrugging with a morose look on his face, Davarax sinks under the weight of guilt. “Tell that to the guy who needed a friend and got called obnoxious instead.”

While Dez has his personal stuff to work on, Neleem also feels bad for Davarax too with his intense need to save everyone and his inability to say 'no' to 99% of requests sent his way. It's an exhausting way to live. People pleasers of his level usually burn out hard. Maybe meeting Dulcy and having her former husband cause Davarax to lose his helmet had actually saved his life? “We can't do anything about the past. All we can do is try to help him now. Which you are, by being his friend despite his temper and paranoia.” She gets up and moves her hand to rest on Davarax' shoulder for a moment. “Thank you for telling me about Skade. It explains some things I was wondering about.”

It's endlessly easier to do battle when you know your enemy, even if it is a ghost from the past.

Dulsissia:

Dulsissia is chattering away about the day, about the kids and the trouble the other Saxons, Vizlas and whatnots had gotten into, when she notices that Davarax is unusually quiet this evening. While she's been talking and getting ready for sleep, he's been sitting on the bed and only occasionally nodding to her words. Turning to properly face him, Dulsissia studies his face and sees something is clearly weighing heavily on his mind. “Hey.” She says.

Blinking, snapping out of his half-daze, Davarax focuses on her. “Sorry, what?” He'd clearly not been listening at all. “I didn't... I'm sorry.”

Dulsissia walks over and sits down next to him, reaching out her hand to gently cup the side of his face. “What's wrong, sweetie?”

Sighing, Davarax covers her hand with his and leans into her touch. “Neleem asked me about Paz' mother today.”

“The one we don't talk about.” Dulsissia mumbles.

“The very one.” Davarax confirms. “But I figured she had the right to know about her, considering she's with Dez, and we both know Dez won't tell her so...”

“So you helped our friend.” Dulsissia concludes, running her thumb over his scruff. “That's a good thing, my big, beautiful, kind and adorable man. Okay?” She expects to see the usual awkward smile on his face after her words, but instead he seems to fold in on himself a bit and that worries her.

“It made me realize what a selfish and stupid brat I was.” Davarax mutters.

Confused, Dulsissia frowns. “What are you talking about?”

“I was so jealous when Dez got married and was to be a father. I hated his guts.” Shame is soaking every word that leaves Davarax' lips. “And it really annoyed me that they were fighting all the time instead of being grateful for what they had and what others... really wanted. I was so busy being petty that I completely failed to notice the obvious.”

“Which was?”

There is a moment of hesitation before Davarax makes a frustrated sound, lets go of her hand and leans away to create some distance between them. “He never fought back. She was always picking away at him, always unhappy with something about him or something he did, constantly trying to push him into a fight with Pre, and I failed to notice how Dez would usually keep quiet or just walk away.” He dares a glance back at Dulsissia. “That woman tore him to shreds, daily, and yet I've never heard him say one bad thing about her other than how she walked out on their son.”

Dulsissia needs a second to digest this information, stunned by what she's heard as she struggles to imagine the Dez she knows putting up with any of that, but then realizes that Macero would never have been able to trick the woman she is today either. Back then Dez had been young and in love, just like her. And, unfortunately, it also sounds as if he'd fallen for the wrong person too. “Sweetie...” Dulsissia eases Davarax close again and wraps her arms around him. “You were just a kid too. You can't blame yourself. And no matter how much you'd like it, you can't save everyone.”

Davarax sighs, a resigned sound. “You sound like Neleem. She said something similar.”

Humming a laugh, Dulsissia places a brief kiss by his temple. “That's because we are both brilliantly wise women who know what we're talking about.”

That finally gets a smile from Davarax, but it's a brief thing before more guilt emerges in his eyes. “It used to piss me off how he's always swinging his fists at me, thinking it was because I 'stole' Paz, because I wouldn't hesitate to that again. But now? Now I keep thinking I deserve the punches for not helping him back then.”

“No.” Dulsissia says, gently but leaving no room for argument. “It's sweet of you, as usual, but no. Him punching you won't fix anything and you certainly do not deserve it. Understand?”

Davarax nods, but it is halfhearted and clearly unconvinced.

Dulsissia grabs a hold of his chin and forces him to meet her eyes. “He does not get to punch you. And I 'will' tie you to a chair and have the kids tell you, in agonizing detail, how wonderful you are and how much you mean to them if you keep talking like this.”

This time the smile on Davarax' face lingers and some of the weight eases off his shoulders.

The very next day, Dulsissia is reminded of what Davarax had told her the previous evening when she spots Dez Vizla sitting by himself, half-hidden behind the house. It is quite rare to find him alone Usually he is with Neleem, his son or surrounded by some of his devoted followers, even occasionally alongside Davarax when Dez can't get away fast enough. It's like fate has arranged it, and who is Dulsissia to argue with fate?

Taking a deep breath, she walks over to where the man is focused on sharpening a vibro blade. “Hello, Dez.”

His gaze flicks up and Dez eyes her with his usual disdain. It's a bit hilarious how he always looks her with cautious wariness like she is some venomous snake that might strike at any moment, especially considering how he could probably snap her in half with just his hands. “Dulcy.” Dez greets her in a drawl. Even his voice is laced with suspicion. If she sneezed right now, he'd probably have a heart attack.

She always assumed he didn't like her because she'd entered the Covert as an Outsider, helped Paz run away, and had the audacity to speak to the glorious Dez Vizla like he was a mere human instead of some kind of deity. However, after what Dav had told her, Dulsissia wonders if he simply stopped trusting people? Maybe, as the cliché goes, it wasn't her, it was him?

“Look at you hiding away.” Dulsissia comments with a warm smile, which only seems to unsettle him even more, and she pushes her luck a little by sitting down next to him. She ignores his deepening scowl with ease. “Are you doing okay?”

“Why wouldn't I be?” Dez replies defensively.

Dulsissia scoots a little closer to him. “No reason. I just like to check up on my friends and I do consider you my friend.”

Dez rolls his eyes. “Don't you start too. Davarax is annoying enough with that shit.” He means to get up and probably flee, but Dulsissia takes a hold of his hand and that freezes him in place.

“He means it.” Dulsissia insists with gentle but firm words, and she also ignores how Dez' scowl is now aimed at their hands. “And so do I. You can talk to me, you know?”

That makes him lift his gaze to her face again, but now to stare at her like she's lost her mind and he's worried it might be contagious.

Dulsissia gives his hand a light, encouraging squeeze. “I know; what would you and I talk about, yes?” She almost smiles at the faint rise of his left eyebrow as he drily agrees with her question. “We have a lot in common, you and I.” Dulsissia insists.

The eyebrow draws down into the usual scowl to show his disagreement.

Dulsissia holds his gaze. “I didn't think so either at first, because you are very good at keeping people at a distance and hiding your true self. I lived in the Covert for years, years mind you, and I had no idea who you really were.”

That gets her another eye roll. For a grown man, Dez loves to act like a sullen teenager.

“Paz.” She says, and that gets Dez' attention again at least. “We both love that boy. We'd both lay our lives down for him.” A reluctant nod of agreement or approval, or both, but Dez' eyes remain as cautious and distant as before. Time for the headshot. “And we both married the wrong person when we were young.”

Dez blinks with obvious surprise, clearly not expecting those words, before he manages to regain his neutral face. “What are you talking about?”

“I was seventeen when Macero started courting me and making me fall in love with him. I'm guessing you were pretty young too when you-”

“I didn't marry a karking Imp.” Dez snaps and his entire body radiates tension.

Dulsissia squeezes his hand again, meaning it to be calming, and sighs when he responds by simply yanking himself free with one, sharp move. She hopes her words can reach him instead. “I don't think being an Imp made Macero cruel, it was in his nature by then. A bad person doesn't have to be an Imp to be bad. Paz' mother, she-”

“You don't know anything about her.” Dez cuts her off once again, now visibly angry.

“Dav told me how she treated you and that you-”

“Davarax needs to mind his own business!” Dez shoots in with even more fury. He shifts his weight uneasily, clearly wanting to flee. “She treated me just fine.”

It's the tiniest signals she reads in his body language that tells Dulsissia that Dez is lying. “She didn't, did she? Is that why you insisted on being alone all this time? Because she made you think you were the problem?” Macero certainly made Dulsissia question herself and after she'd fled with Corin, she swore to never marry and become someone else's pawn again. It's why she turned down Davarax' first proposal. “Bad people often make others think they are to blame.”

“She didn't do anything to me. She didn't make me think anything. This is ridiculous.” Dez insists and his entire posture changes. His flight instinct is replaced with fight, just like a cornered animal desperate to fend off its attacker. “And stop looking at me like that!”

“Like what?”

“Like I'm some karking... victim.” Dez spits out the last word with raw contempt. “I'm a Vizla, I'm not some helpless weakling. You can sit on your pathetic offer of pity and twirl on it, and while you're doing that: mind your own damn business!”

Dulsissia knows she's swimming in dangerous waters, his rage is not to be taken lightly when he gets defensive like this, but she can't turn back now. It is adorable that Neleem and Dez thinks she doesn't know that Neleem is pregnant, despite her ravenous appetite, constantly touching her stomach and him being even more protective that usual, but it is the reason why Dulsissia feels a strong urge to help sort out this issue before that child arrives. “It became my business when you married my friend.”

Dez instantly deflates and that proves once again why Dulsissia continues to have faith in him; Neleem means more to him than his pride and ego. For her, he'll be willing to listen. “She...” The anger is now gone from his voice and leaves it soft and uncharacteristically uncertain. His dark eyes flicker like he can't get himself to actually look at Dulsissia. “She said something? About me?”

Dulsissia wishes Dez would let her hug him because she can see the quiet dread in his gaze. He's been trying, everyone knows that, and now he fears it's not been good enough. Just like Paz' mother had drilled into his head. Just like Corin's father had tried to manipulate Dulsissia. It's so painfully obvious. For all his arrogance, all his big talk, Dez Vizla hides no small amount of fear behind his posturing. He might be the best actor Dulsissia has ever seen. “Only that she loves you.”

For a second, Dez closes his eyes in relief before he straightens and tries to scowl at Dulsissia again.

“Listen to me, Dez.” She says before he can start spouting his Vizla silliness again. “The fact that a bad person abused our trust doesn't mean we're weak. It just means they were a bad person.” She sees a flare of anger rising in his eyes again and hurries to continue. “Just remember that Neleem is not her. You don't have to prove anything to Neleem.”

“I know that...” Dez mumbles, but he's not very convincing.

“Good.” Dulsissia offers him a friendly smile. “Learn from the past, but don't let it haunt you.”

“Did your Imp haunt you?” Dez asks and seems as surprised as her at his question.

Dulsissia shrugs. “Yes. And even now there are days when I can hear his whispers. He spent years convincing me I was nothing but a golden broodmare that would be his ticket into high society. I'm more than that, I know that now, but every time I fail at something I can hear his voice.”

Now Dez' full attention rests on her. “Do you hate him?”

This isn't just about Macero, Dulsissia suspects Dez is gauging what he's 'allowed' to feel about Skade. “Some days I do. When I hear his toxic whispers.” The Macero she fell in love with was so very different from the one she married. “Always, when I think about what he would have done to Corin if we hadn't left.” She shrugs again. “And other days, when I realize how lucky I am to have Corin, a part of me is actually grateful to Macero. I love my son. I wouldn't want a life without my boy.”

Dez lets out a shaky breath and looks away.

“Hey...” Dulsissia dares to reach out and take a hold of his hand again, making Dez look back at her. “Ease up on the silent, tough guy act and let your friends know you and help you, okay? It's difficult to trust again after what we've been through, but it's worth it. You can trust me on that.” She winks at him.

Dez almost smiles a little before he catches himself and gives her a gruff nod instead.

Dez:

The blonde witch might be interfering in things that are not her business, her words still won't stop tumbling around inside Dez' head. He might have been able to block out her nonsense if not for the fact that it touches by the unease that has been curled up inside him ever since the pregnancy. What if he doesn't have to feel like this until everything goes wrong again? It's worth a try.

It's easy to find Neleem. She's out with the kids, his clan had brought all of their little troublemakers when they decided to follow him out of the darkness, and she's trying to organize some kind of a school for them. He waits for her to finish and his heart clenches when she notices him and her face lights up with a happy smile. It takes a lot not to smile back at her, he can't do that in front of the other Mandalorians, but he takes her hand when she walks over to him and asks with a silent tug if she'll walk with him for a bit.

Neleem does. She sends him a couple of quizzical glances, must sense that something on his mind, but waits for him to talk and doesn't push. She knows him so well.

Finally they end up standing next to the fence surrounding the sparring area, no one is using it and it gives them a bit of privacy, and Dez takes a deep breath. “I, uh, I need to ask you something. No, that's not... I need you to...”

“I'm listening.” Neleem replies.

Dez hates that he can't seem to find the words. It's so frustrating. “I... I need you to promise me that you'll tell me if I annoy you. Give me a chance to fix it, fix me, before you start hating me?” That sounds so pathetic. She should hate him for sounding so weak.

“Oh, Dez...” Neleem takes his face between her hands, such gentle hands, and makes him look into her eyes. “I promise you that I'll tell you if something is bothering me and I hope you'll do the same, but it's completely natural to get annoyed with each other in a relationship. Everyone gets irritated with their partner.”

Dez frowns. “Not everyone.”

“Yes everyone.” Neleem insists, then takes his hand again. “And I'll prove it to you!” She drags him along and Dez is too surprised to resist. He is further silenced by Neleem finding her first victims as they turn the corner of the house. “Paz. Raga.” The youngsters turn and look at them, halting despite being on the way yo somewhere, clearly curious. “Question: Paz, what's the most irritating thing about Raga?”

Dez expects his son to say 'nothing' and look at his girl friend with devotion. Instead, Paz sends Raga a narrow-eyed glance. “She steals my snacks and never replaces them.”

Neleem nods, as if getting the answer to an advanced science riddle. “And, Raga, what's most annoying about Paz?”

Raga huffs and returns the narrow-eyed glance. “That he's useless before 11 AM.”

“Thank you.” Neleem says, then stalks off again and tugs Dez along. He means to apologize to the kids, dreading they just stirred a hornet's nest between them, but the words never get to leave his lips as Raga and Paz both snicker and pull each other close while trading insults about aforementioned grievances between kisses. Huh.

“Din! Corin!” Neleem shouts, snapping Dez out of his puzzlement and drawing his attention to the other two victims she has honed in on: Din and Corin pause and look at them a small distance away. She drags Dez over to them. “I have a question for you.”

“Shoot.” Din replies.

“What's most annoying about Corin?” Neleem fires off without mercy.

Din blinks, a little surprised, then he looks over at Corin, a little cautiously, but sees the smug expression on his face and drawls: “Whenever the weather turns hot, he turns into Darth Vader.”

Corin huffs, clearly offended, then turns his attention to Neleem and Dez. “And the most annoying thing about Din is how, despite it being warm enough for the walls to melt, he still insists on cuddling all damn night.”

“Thank you, boys.” Neleem says, turning to face Dez. “See?”

“I see that you just started a fight.” Dez points out.

Neleem glances back at Din and Corin, who are now exchanging stuff they love about each other, and she turns to give Dez a meaningful eyebrow raise.

Dez sighs. “Fine. Okay. But... they're kids. They're allowed to have flaws. They'll outgrow them.”

“They're not toddlers, Dez. And everyone has flaws.” Neleem states with a faint laugh of disbelief.

“Not everyone.” Dez mutters. “Beskar B- I mean, Davarax is Sir Perfect. Him and her, they are disgustingly perfect together.”

Neleem is the one to sigh now and she tugs Dez along again. “Come on. I'll prove to you he's got his flaws as well.”

His hopes of them not finding the duo is shattered when they enter the house and find Dulcy and Davarax in the kitchen. Of course.

“Dulcy, I need to ask you something.” Neleem says while Dez considers throwing himself out the window.

“Ask away.” Dulcyreplies cheerfully and gives this bright, open smile like life has never hurt her.

“What is the most annoying thing about Davarax?”

Davarax, leaning back against the kitchen counter next to Dulcy, is absently chewing on something and he looks over at his wife with mild curiosity on his face. There is none of the raw dread Dez would have felt if someone had asked Neleem to point out his flaws in public.

Dulcy purses her lips thoughtfully. “Hmm, let me think...” She taps a finger to her lips a couple of times before holding it up to make her point. “The thing about Davarax that really pisses me off is him in the mornings.”

That, Dez did not expect. He knows Davarax is not grumpy in the mornings like Paz, so why...?

“When I wake up in the mornings,” Dulcy says, “my hair looks like mess, my eyes are all puffy, I have pillow-wrinkles on my face, but he...” Here she points an accusatory finger at Davarax. “This man here. His hair is this charming chaos, his face is all soft and sweet, his smile is gorgeous and his body is all relaxed and warm, and he looks like he's been at a fashion shoot for underwear models and... it's not fair! No one should look that good in the morning!”

Davarax' smile widens with endless adoration. “Dulcy...”

“It's true and you know it.” Dulcy 'scolds' him with a grin of her own.

“You look beautiful in the mornings.” Davarax says, turning to properly face his wife.

“Not like you.” Dulcy counters, reaching out and placing her hands on his chest.

Neleem's eyes narrows as Davarax leans down to give Dulcy a kiss that is happily welcomed. “Okay, Dez, I'm starting to understand why you get so irritated by them.”

Davarax and Dulcy kiss again, soft and chaste, smiling and staring into each other's eyes.

“Right?” Dez says, eager to finally have someone see what he sees.

But when Davarax wraps an arm around Dulcy, pulling her close, and the kisses start to linger, Neleem shakes her head. She ushers Dez out of the room and out of the house along with her. “That's enough of that.”

“Told you.” Dez has to rub it in with a sing-song tone.

Laughing, Neleem loops her arm with his and shakes her head as they walk. “Shut up. Davarax has his flaws. He's a good man, among the best, but he is not flawless.”

Dez makes a doubt-filled hum. “I grew up with him. I've seen how everyone worships him. He was the one in the Covert who every soul wanted as their spouse.” He steals a glance over at Neleem. “Tell me the truth; you probably dreamed about someone like him too when you pictured your marriage.”

Neleem lets out a low, soft laugh as she turns to stand in front of him, forcing Dez to stop, and looks up at him with smug satisfaction in her eyes. “He's sweet, sure, but lucky for you...” She takes a hold of his shirtcollar and tugs him down a bit. “I prefer spice.”

That surprises a huff of a smile from Dez, lets him have a moment of intense happiness, of how right it feels to be with Neleem and the fact that their child grows inside her, before cold curls around his heart like barbed wire and his stomach starts to burn. He reaches up and cautiously takes her hands between his. “I know what I am, and most of the time it's not pretty to be around. I got no idea what they told you about my past, but I suspect they made me sound far better than I was. And while I know you won't let me make the same mistakes that I did with Paz, I also don't want to make the same mistakes that I did with... her.” He swallows hard, remembering the look in Skade's eyes when she glared at him during those latter years. “I made her resent me. Everything I did annoyed her. Me being me made her hate the very sight of me. And eventually I just stopped listening to anything she said. I'm trying to change, be better, you know that, but you have to tell me if I'm too... me, and give me a chance to fix it before it's too late. Before you want to leave.” Dez leans down and gently rests his forehead to hers in a soft kov'nyn. “I don't want to lose you.” He even dares to reach down and place light fingertips to her stomach.

“I've told you before; I won't leave. I love you.” Neleem insists softly, placing her hand over his and pressing it slightly tighter to her stomach. “You're a good man and she should never have made you doubt that.”

“I'm not-”

“You are a good man.” Neleem cuts him off, leaving no room for a debate. “I wouldn't have married you if you weren't. I wouldn't be carrying your child if I wasn't sure. Don't let her poisonous words come between us. You can trust me, you know.”

Nodding, Dez can actually feel the cold starting to ease away from his heart and the burning sensation in his gut quietens down. He does trust her. She won't disappear like Skade did. It's not in Neleem's nature. “I know. And I do.”

“Good.” Neleem smiles, then leans up to kiss him. “Then stop acting like a weirdo.”

Dez blinks. “What?”

“You've been acting like touching me would cause boils to erupt all over your body.”

Startled, Dez flinches and almost withdraws his hand but she tightens her grip and won't let him. “I just...” He stutters. “Do...” Curiosity wins over unease. “You want me close? While you're pregnant?”

“Yes, I do!” Neleem laughs, as if it would be obvious. She releases his hand to take his face between her hands instead, locking his gaze with hers. “We took the vows, remember? We're one. This is our child and we're doing this together.”

That surprises another huff of a laugh out of Dez as, for the very first time in his life, the vows suddenly make sense to him. He'd spoken them before but they had turned out to be nothing but pompous sounding and empty words, which in turn was both confusing and depressing. Marriage had not felt much like becoming one, not to him, it had been more like binding yourself to a duel with the same opponent for the rest of your life. He'd thought himself weak for growing tired of the constant fighting because pressure creates gems, right? But this? Dez realizes that 'this' is what those words were supposed to mean. Just like that, things click into place and make sense.

It's really late when Dez finally makes it back to their room after hours of mediating and threatening his fellow Mandalorians into getting along for another day, without a common enemy to unite them they keep bickering with each other, and he's pleased to find Neleem in bed and apparently asleep. Good. She needs her rest. He was worried he'd be forced to beat the everliving daylights out of his kin if they caused her to lose sleep because he was away all the time to deal with them.

Dez removes his armor, gets ready for the night, then walks over to the bed and hesitates. He studies Neleem's peaceful shape for a moment. He remembers a sharp order from the past, but that fades compared to the present. Neleem said she wanted his touch and he's dying to hold her again despite knowing it is weak of him. Dez takes a deep breath, then gets into bed and cautiously moves over to curl up close to Neleem. He slides an arm around her... Swallowing hard, staring into the darkness, Dez waits for what happens next; acceptance or that sharp order from the past.

Neleem lets out a sleepy hum at his proximity, runs her hand up the arm he has around her and braids their fingers. She wiggles closer to his body before settling again with a smile on her face.

Dez closes his eyes, hides his relief against her neck, and the tension finally leaves his body.

Days and weeks pass by and when Neleem finally breaks and can't keep the pregnancy a secret any longer, Dez feels as proud and smug as a tipyip rooster when the congratulations start flowing. (Beskar Boy even gets to hug him without a fight.) Paz is the one who is almost as excited about this as Dez himself, Raga is happy on their behalf, while Corin whines that he wants a kid too and causes Din's face to stay flushed for almost an entire hour. Mose stares with stunned surprise when Dez declares he expects him to babysit, Liita is more interested in some upgrades she's working on the jetpacks, and Zev'sonya flees the second Leo states that he adores babies...

As for his fellow Mandalorian, well...

Furyan insists on having a celebratory party, where he shouts out crude but well-meaning praise to the revival of certain parts of Dez' anatomy that Dez would have preferred that the man wasn't so invested in. However, it has Neleem laughing so Dez accepts the words with a slight smile and a raise of his glass.

“Furyan!” Sobek calls from across the room.

“Yah?” The man replies in a half-gurgle, his chugging of pure spirits interrupted by his wife.

“Get your ass to our room and remove your clothes.” Sobek orders. “I've changed my mind. Four kids is not enough.”

That has Furyan eagerly heading for the door with a slightly demented cackle, his three sons groaning with embarrassment and horror, while the rest of the clan are laughing loud enough to wake the dead. Dez is relieved to see that Neleem is also still laughing, he knows his people are loud and a bit too honest at times, occasionally exhausting, but they are also extremely loyal and fun to be around, and it is a relief to see that she gets it. She gets them.

A thought hits Dez and he looks around with a slight frown until he spots her; Raga. She's huddled up in a corner with Paz, ignoring what had just happened with ease and obvious experience, but Dez had just realized that she has not spent more than a few minutes with her family since they had arrived. The frown deepens and he takes an absent gulp from his drink.

This is why the very next day he dares to sit down next to Sobek eating her breakfast amidst the chaos of her sons and husband arguing loud enough to make ears bleed. “Hey.”

Sobek glances over at him and her dark eyes narrow suspiciously. “Whatever whomever messed up, I'm not paying for it.”

Dez shakes his head. “That's not why I'm here.”

“Why are you here?” Sobek half-shouts to be heard through the mayhem behind them.

Leaning closer, not wanting to shout, Dez misses the helmets and the internal comm lines. “It's about Raga.”

“What about her?”

Dez hesitates, suddenly knowing how Beskar Boy feels when he's about to say something that will most likely have Dez punch him. What sucks is that Sobek's punches are a LOT more painful than his. “I, uh... I noticed that you spend a lot of time with Furyan and the boys, but I don't see you hanging out with Raga much.”

Sobek shoves some food into her mouth and frowns confused. “So?”

“So...” Dez clears his throat. “So, maybe you... should? She's your daughter.”

Gesturing to where one son is on the floor, clutching his nose, and where the other two are trying to bring their father down, Sobek raises her eyebrows. “You see this? My husband and my sons? They're idiots. They need me. I have to look after them, keep them alive and out of trouble.” She lowers her hand and starts eating again. “Raga doesn't need me. She's tough, just like her mama.”

Nodding, Dez won't argue with that fact, and yet... “I know. I know that, but...”

“But?” Now Sobek sounds and looks annoyed.

“But does she know that?” Dez forces himself to speak the words despite the intense urge to flee. “Does she know that you're proud of her?”

Sobek definitely looks annoyed now. “Of course she knows.”

Clearing his throat, Dez shrugs one shoulder. “Have you told her?”

“What?”

Unsettled by the glare that follows, Dez looks down. “I assumed Paz knew I was proud of him, what father wouldn't be, but hearing nothing but the corrections I gave him made him think he wasn't good enough.”

“You're starting to sound like Davarax.” Sobek drawls, part amused and part nasty.

Exhaling a laugh, Dez nods again. “I know.” He is not thrilled by this fact, but even Beskar Boy has to be right about a couple of things. Dez peeks up at Sobek's face again. “But wouldn't you have liked to have heard it from your parents...?”

Sobek chews thoughtfully.

Raga:

Raga is in the middle of the weekly tormenting of Barthor when the last voice she expects to hear speaks up.

“Raga.”

Surprised, Raga sits up, keeping her knee into Barthor's lower back to pin him in place, to look and make sure, but, yeah, that is indeed her mother standing in the middle of the training arena.

Sobek's armor is gloriously marred by battle and with her arms crossed over her chest there is no mistaking the muscles bulging under the jacket. She is not wearing her helmet, has her dark hair pulled back into a ponytail and there is the usual stern expression on her face. (She's the only one who always looks as grumpy as old man Vizla.) “I want to talk to you, ad.”

Sighing, Raga shoves her knee a little harsher into Barthor at the sound of his smug laugh before she reluctantly gets up to face her mother. “I'm listening.”

Sobek nods for Raga to follow her and the two walk over to one of the benches behind the training shed. Once they are seated, Raga waits for her mother to speak so she can get back to pummeling the little cretin who had glued her boots to the floor.

“You did wise in choosing Paz Vizla.” Sobek finally states.

“I know.” Raga replies. “Did you drag me over here just to tell me what I already know?”

Sobek almost smirks. “I'm starting to think I might have, yeah.” She turns to face Raga completely. “Your father and brothers are helpless without me. You're my daughter, you're strong, so I know I don't have to watch over you like I do them. Understand?”

Raga frowns. “Why are you telling me this?”

The almost-smirk turns into a resigned laugh and Sobek shakes her head. “I don't know.” She leans back against the wall behind them and sighs up at the sky. “Because Dez told me to? He told me this tale about how his son didn't know he was proud of him because he never told him, that man has been hanging around with Davarax too much, so he wanted me to tell you what you already know; that I'm damn proud of you, in case you were as thick-headed as his boy.”

Raga tightens her lips into a line as they start to tremble and she has to swallow hard to battle the lump in her throat.

“Well,” Sobek says, getting up, “apologies for wasting your time, ad. I better get back to the others before they accidentally kill each other. See you around.”

“See you around.” Raga whispers, watching her mother march away. She needs a couple of seconds to digest the words and the story behind them. While her parents have never nitpicked at her like old man Vizla did to Paz, she almost wished they would some times as that would have meant they noticed her at least. She's been a ghost in the Saxon quarters for as long as she can remember. So to hear her mother say, out loud, in actual words, that she's proud of her? Not only did she take the time and effort to seek out Raga to talk to her, but say she's damn proud of her?

Raga gets up on her feet, wipes away tears she refuses to acknowledge before stalking towards the shooting range.

Davarax is showing Din some tricks to improve his aim while Corin, Paz and Liita are doing push-ups in front of the scowling Dez Vizla, who hovers over them like a bad omen.

Raga walks over to old man Vizla, takes a hold of the top of his breastplate, ignoring his puzzled look, pulls him down, leans up to place a light kiss on his stubbled cheek, before letting go of his armor and walking away again so he won't see the smile on her face.

Behind her, Raga hears Paz scrambling to his feet and asking his father; “What was that about?”

“I have no idea.” Old man Vizla replies, sounding endlessly confused.

“First Drop and now Raga...” Davarax' voice drawls with glee. “It seems like your father is just very kissable, Paz.”

“I will punch you in the face, Davarax.” Dez growls. “And get back down, Paz. You three have ten more to go.”

Raga fights back a laugh. For some reason, she feels lighter than she has in years.

Dez:

“Hey you.” Neleem chirps, walking over to greet Dez as he returns from a supply run with Din and Corin.

“Hey.” Dez replies, throwing the bags of vegetables he was carrying into the arms of the already overloaded Din and Corin and he ignores their startled objections. He reaches out to gently trap Neleem's face between his hands instead and steals a kiss.

Neleem hums with pleased satisfaction.

Pulling back a little, Dez looks down at her now prominent belly. “And how is this one doing?”

“Restless. All day.” Neleem admits with a resigned smile. “Practicing to become a top class Mandalorian fighter, would be my guess.”

Dez can't stop himself from smiling any more than he could will his heart to stop. His hand moves, but he pauses before he can actually touch her stomach. “Can I...?” It's still unreal that she allows him to place his hands on her while she's uncomfortable and he doesn't want to mess up and lose that privilege.

“Absolutely.” Neleem takes his hand and places it on her stomach. “Maybe you can persuade them to calm down?”

Dez' grin widens and he's mesmerized by the touch. “I told you; Vizlas are tough.”

Din and Corin walk by them, struggling to carry the bags stacked up in their arms.

Neleem caresses Dez' hand and smiles a little herself. “I can't wait to meet them. Do you want another son or another daughter?”

“Son or daughter, that doesn't matter to me.” Dez replies without hesitation and complete honesty. “I'm just eager to meet them too. It's going to be a long couple of months.” He hesitates before adding; “I always wanted a big family.”

Neleem beams up at him. She's been trying to lure him into talking more about his past so she is very happy the few times he does. “Well, we're getting there. Paz, Raga, Liita, this one, and who knows what the future will bring.”

“I like the sound of that.” Dez murmurs, a little embarrassed over his confession but knows she won't make fun of him for it. She's not Skade. He's aware of that, of course he is, but there are times when his instinct tells him to be careful with his words before his brain is able to remind him that Neleem is indeed very different from Skade.

“I heard Dulcy telling Dav that she is becoming broody at the sight of me.” Neleem informs him with glee.

Dez huffs. “First Sobek and now the blonde witch? Stars above, there's going to be a bunch of little rugrats running around here if they go through with this. We might have an army big enough to challenge Kryze herself, claim the Dark Saber and repopulate Mandalore at this rate.”

Neleem laughs. “The Tribe is growing. This is the Way.”

Outright grinning, still dizzy with delight whenever Neleem quotes anything Mandalorian, Dez lifts her hand to his lips and kisses it. “Remember what I told you when you were trying to drag me to your room to have your way with me that first time?”

Neleem's face flushes a little but she stands her ground. “I remember.” He'd made it clear that anything happening between them would be nothing more than a fling as he would be leaving. And, yet, here they are, married and her shirt straining over her stomach.

“I'm glad things turned out differently.” Dez admits, then blinks and quickly adds; “I mean, I'm not glad the Imps ruined your planet and bombed your school and ruined everything, but-”

“I'm glad things turned out differently too.” Neleem reassures him with a smile. “I told myself not to fall in love, but then you stayed longer and I got to know you more and... my plan went flying out the window.”

Dez lowers their hands to rest on her stomach again. “I'm glad things didn't go according to plan.”

“Me too.” Neleem confesses, feeling his gentle caress calming the restless child. Maybe the Vizlas have a secret power, in addition to predicting pregnancies, to calm babies? “And I have a pretty good feeling about our future as well.”

The weirdest thing is that Dez feels the same. Is he still terrified by the idea of messing up again? Absolutely. In regards to both raising the child and Neleem's opinion of him. However, Dez also feels confident enough in himself and his trust in Neleem that he's willing to face that fear. He can do this. No. They can do this. They are one.

#the mandalorian his son and the storm trooper #What If AU #Dez Vizla #Neleem #Davarax #Dulsissia Motti #Mose the Hutt #Corin and Din and the others appear of course

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sulphuryasecretcloset · 3 years ago

Text

Goodbye

(Because I have no willpower and finally some hours to write, I had to finish Dez’ story arc. Thank you so much @mountevey for your kind interest and even kinder words, and thank you so much @phrenic-a for listening to me complain about Dez being so difficult and giving such wonderful input!)

Dez should have died. It would have been a lot better if he’d died. If he had died, he wouldn’t have had to deal with more mess added to his already messy life.

Neleem is pissed off at him, claiming he kept being sick from her and is not willing to believe his explanation that he didn’t tell her because it was no big deal. Paz looks at him like he’s some kind of monster that could explode at any moment and that boy will never call him buir again.

Liita is threatening to insert a tracker in Dez’ neck so she can follow him everywhere because he clearly needs a bodyguard as he keeps getting trounced. The other kids act like he’s a homicidal nikto and avoid him like the plague.

Dulcy has, for some reason, made it her mission in life to make sure Dez eats and she has a plain scary ability to pick up on it the second he gets a headache or feels nauseous and forces him to rest and drink this terrible herbal tea several times a day. And while all of this is bad, Davarax is worse.

He’d threatened Dez with his so-called friendship and he’d clearly meant it. It’s outright pathetic how the man tries to pretend that he doesn’t think he’s far better than Dez and that he wants him around. Too bad for Beskar Boy that Dez is too smart to fall for his charade.

As he is no weakling, Dez Vizla is up on his feet again to participate on the celebration of Paz’ Life Day. He had not been entirely convinced his son even wanted him there, but Liita said Paz did and she wouldn’t lie. It isn’t a comfortable experience, mostly because of his still healing wound but also due to the way the others look at him.

Dez is very comfortable being the centre of attention, usually he is deserving of it, but he viciously resents the concern and something dangerously close to pity he sees in their eyes. He heads back to his room after about thirty minutes. His stomach aches. His jaw hurts from clenching it so hard.

But Davarax follows him into the hallway and has the audacity to ask if something is wrong, acting like a worried parent, which makes red hot anger flare up Dez’ neck. He wants his pity least of all. It’s unbearable!

Throwing a punch, ignoring the pain as the sudden movement pulls at his wound, Dez aims for Davarax’ face and is quite surprised when his fist simply hits Davarax’ palm as he lifts his hand with frightful speed and blocks the attack with hardly any effort..

Davarax’ fingers curl around Dez’ fist and holds it there, all with a resigned and mildly chastising expression on his face. “That one is for free, Dez. Neleem says you do stuff like this because you got impulse issues like Raga and that you too need a little guidance when it comes to controlling yourself. So consider this your warning; try to hit me again and I will punch back. Understood?”

Glaring, Dez tries to tug his hand free but Davarax’ grip is too strong.

“Understood?” Davarax repeats patiently.

Tugging harder, still nothing, Dez seethes with humiliation. “Yes.” He grits out. “Understood.”

Davarax smiles and nods, pleased. “Excellent.” He lets go and gives Dez’ shoulder a light pat instead. “Is the wound giving you trouble?”

Dez lowers his hand, considers going for a second punch but decides against it. Davarax’ guard is up. He’d never land it. “I’m tired.” Dez turns his face away. “Tell Paz happy Life Day from me.” It would mean more to hear it from Davarax anyway.

“I will.” Davarax says, trying to sound like he’s sad about Dez leaving the gathering. “You want him to stop by later? I can ask him to-”

“No.” Dez figures the boy has stuff planned with Raga and his friends. It’s his Life Day, he shouldn’t be forced to deal with the mess of a father he has. Dez turns his back on Davarax and his stupid face and walks away.

Neleem enters the room a few minutes after Dez had kicked off his boots and gotten comfortable on the bed. She frowns, torn between her established irritation and now being worried. “You okay?”

Dez shrugs. His stomach churns. His wound aches. “I’ll live.” He hesitates. “You didn’t have to leave them to check up on me. I just… I couldn’t stay there. Paz jumps if I so much as coughs and Dulcy looks like she’s ready to do CPR on me whether I need it or not.”

Neleem’s lips tug a bit on a melancholy smile. “Yeah…” She walks over and sits down next to him. “Listen, would you mind if we stay for a little while? Maybe a week or two?”

Dez blinks. They were just meant to visit for Paz’ Life Day and then head back home. But clearly his fears about Neleem not being happy in the Covert were not unfounded. Dez feels a cold wave of nausea and it takes no small amount of will power to act unfazed. He even manages a smile of his own. “Sure.” He says. “Of course we can stay longer.”

Whenever someone in the Covert had brought a troubled child to him, Davarax figured time, patience and kindness would be the key to find out how to help them. In this case, he has little of the first, a lot of the second and Dez doesn’t respond well to the last. Davarax has no idea if he’s going to be able to undo the damage done to this grown man, but after Neleem told him how Dez had been willing to work on himself with her, he has decided to try.

But stars above, Dez is dead set on not making it easy for him.

“Hey, good morning, you want to grab breakfast and shoot some targets after?” Davarax asks as he pokes his head into the room the next morning.

Staring at him like Davarax has lost his mind, Dez shakes his head with a mix of disbelief and disgust. “No.”

“Are you sure?”

“Get out of my room.” Dez growls. “Before I use you for target practice.”

Okay, that didn’t work.

Later Davarax tries to approach him when Dez is working on getting the blood out of his armour. “Need a hand with that?”

Dez looks up at him, frowning with obvious confusion. “No. Why would I?” His eyes narrow with growing anger. “You think I don’t know how to clean my own karking armour?”

Davarax lifts his hands in mute surrender and walks away. Okay, that didn’t work either.

“Hey, you wanna-”

“No.”

Maybe a different tactic is needed…

Davarax sees Dez sending quick, pained glances over at his son whenever Paz is around and that gives him an idea. He arranges to have Paz and the others have a little play fighting tournament right outside the house and is pleased to see how that draws the ornery one out to observe.

“He’s a good fighter.” Davarax says, taking up position next to Dez to watch Paz and Din go at it. “You should be proud”

Dez grunts and crosses his arms, keeping his gaze on his son. “I am.”

This seems to work, until Dez interferes by shouting out orders and corrections to the youngsters, encouraging more force and mocking the losers, and the play fighting starts getting a little too intense. Davarax is just about to put an end to it when Raga, always the adrenaline junkie and eager to cross the line, ducks under Din’s half-hearted attack and puts all of her strength into it as she plants her fist deep in Din’s stomach.

The force and unexpectedness of it all has Din folding and grunting with pain. Raga takes a step back and throws both hands in the air with a gleeful cackle.

Dez laughs and applauds.

Davarax clenches his jaw and stalks forward. He gets there just in time as the furious Din gets up on his feet and is about to dive at Raga. Grabbing Din by the back of his shirt and holding him back, Davarax points a finger at Raga. “Ten laps around the property. Now.”

Raga huffs with offence. “What? Why?!”

“That was an actual punch and this is not an actual fight, Raga. You know the rules.” Davarax keeps his gaze steadily locked with hers. “Go.”

She lets out a frustrated hiss but sets off to do her laps. Din tries to follow her, still dead-set on payback, but Davarax yanks him back and then shoves him over at Corin and Paz. “Din, no. This ends here.” After that, he stalks over to Dez, who is glaring at him.

“Punishing your student for winning a fight?” Dez scoffs. “And you call yourself a Mandalorian?”

“They know the rules during training and they know the consequences if they break them.” Davarax will not let Dez turn his kids against each other. He does NOT get to ruin what it has taken years to build. “And as you lit the fuse, I really should make you run those laps with her.”

Dez’ eyes narrow and flash with anger. “I don’t take orders from you.”

When Dez’ fist comes at him, Davarax smacks it aside and delivers a lightning-quick punch of his own. As Dez stumbles back a step and cups his now bleeding nose, Davarax lets out a strained exhale to control his own temper. “I warned you.” He turns towards the nervous gathering of youngsters. “No more fights. We’re done. Separate corners everyone. Understood?”

“Understood.” Their voices echo back.

Davarax feels Dez’ scowl on him and turns back to face him again. “Understood?”

“Understood.” Dez snarls, but the fire in his eyes tells Davarax the fight between them is far from over.

“I don’t think I can do it.” Davarax admits that evening, hating to accept defeat but struggling to see any way he can get through to Dez. Not in a couple of weeks. This could take decades. Anything he says, Dez turns it into some kind of insult. Anything he does, Dez turns it into Davarax patronizing him. “I thought I could, but…”

Dulcy hands him his cup before settling on the sofa with her legs curled up under her and her hip against his. It’s a rare quiet moment with just the two of them there. “But?”

“He hates me.” Davarax shakes his head. “Maybe he’s right to. I don’t know. All these years and I never picked up on him struggling. I just thought he was a jerk. I should have done something, instead I just avoided him like a coward.” He gives a faint gesture with his free hand. “And now that I want to help, he won’t let me and I don’t blame him.”

Dulcy leans her forehead to his shoulder and hums. “The fact that you think like this is a big part of why I love you so much, you big lug.” She then kisses his shoulder and straightens to look at Davarax’ face. “You’re completely wrong, obviously, but I love you for thinking that. It just proves that you are a good man.”

“And I love you for trying to make me feel better by saying that. You’re completely wrong, obviously, but I love you for it.” Davarax counters with a faint smile and a soft kiss on her lips.

Dulcy leans in for a second kiss. “I’m never wrong when it comes to you.” She settles next to him again. “And I wasn’t wrong when I said you two need to talk it out. His issues are not your fault, but if you want to help him, you need to get him talking.”

There is a moment of silence before Davarax quietly blurts out something he’d meant to keep a secret. “He was crying.”

“What?” Dulcy sits up, startled, and stares wide eyed at him. “When? Why?”

Squirming, feeling guilty for telling, Davarax clears his throat. “After the fight in the town. He yelled at Paz and I was going to yell at him and… he was crying.” He shakes his head, still struggling to believe what he’d seen was real. “I’ve never seen him cry before. Never. I didn’t even think he was capable of being sad. Anyway, he wouldn’t tell me why he was so upset so I asked Paz about the yelling and he said Dez got angry because he called him buir. Paz thinks Dez found it childish, but I don’t think so.”

“No…” Dulcy mumbles, all pained empathy. “No, that wasn’t anger.” She bites her lower lip and shifts her gaze over in the general direction of Dez and Neleem’s room. “He doesn’t hate you. Neleem told me so. We just need to find some way to crack that cold, unfeeling act of his.”

Davarax sips at his cup. “I’m open for suggestions. After I punched him in the face, I can’t get near him. If I walk into a room, he’s leaving within ten to fifteen seconds. Aside from rolling him up in a blanket like an angry loth cat, I don’t see how I can prevent him from running away.”

“What if…” Dulcy purses her lips a little as she thinks. “What if you suddenly need a little help with some repairs on the shed? We know he’s good at repairing houses and such.”

Frowning, Davarax looks over at her. “How on Mandalore are you going to get him to agree to that?”

Dulcy grins.

Dez sits on the bed, uncharacteristically passive, while Neleem gingerly peels off the bacta bandage from his stomach. There are no signs of blood on the white patch and she brushes her fingertips over his skin where there is now only a faint scar.

“How does it feel?” She asks.

Honestly? Good. Dez is more than capable of taking care of his own wounds. He doesn’t need help taking off a bacta patch or a check up on the healing progress, but there is something about her gentle touch that just makes him feel calm and pliant. “It’s fine.” Dez mumbles.

How pathetic is it that he’s hoarding every touch and every smile she’s willing to send his way before he’ll have to go back to the Covert alone?

“That’s good.” Neleem says, sounding pleased and a bit relieved. She then runs her hand through his hair, as if giving him a reward for having a body that heals as it is meant to, and even smiles as a little at Dez catching himself leaning into her touch and the following frown on his face.

“But maybe you should rest a little more.” Neleem adds, her fingers touching his chin. “Just to be safe?”

Dez scoffs. “I don’t need more rest. I feel fine.” He’s no weakling. “The wound is healed.”

Neleem hums. “So you could handle a little… physical strain?”

Instantly intrigued by the tone of her voice and the choice of words, Dez goes from annoyed to alert within a single heart-beat. “Yeah. Definitely.” He is further encouraged by the smile on her lips at his reply. Dez reaches out and takes a light hold of her hip, encouraging Neleem closer. “I wouldn’t mind working up a sweat.”

“Is that so?” Neleem mumbles with a smug grin, indulging him by moving closer. She trails a promising caress along his jawline. “Are you sure? Because I don’t want you to tear up your wound again.”

Dez shakes his head eagerly. “It’s fine. I swear. That bacta took care of it. I’m perfectly capable of some… physical strain.”

“That’s good.” Neleem purrs, leaning down to give him a soft kiss, before she pats his shoulder and straightens back up, all business. “Because Davarax needs help with the roof of that shed and I said I’d ask you to help out if your wound was healed. You are good with roofs, I saw that myself. You will help him won’t you?”

Dez stares at her with utter disbelief.

Neleem smiles back at him.

Dez scowls. “You tricked me.” He has blamed his wound bothering him every time he’s retreated to their room to escape Davarax and now he can’t use that excuse.

“You mean you can’t fix the shed?” Neleem asks, tilting her head in such an innocent manner it screams shameless guilt.

Of course Dez Vizla can fix a damn shed! He just doesn’t want to. Not if Davarax is going to be there. “I can, but-”

“Excellent.” Neleem cuts him off. “Davarax is waiting outside. I’ll tell him you’ll be right out.”

Ten minutes later, a seething Dez finds himself stalking outside, where Davarax is leaning against the wall with arms crossed and appears to be half asleep. “Don’t talk to me.” Dez growls as he marches by him. “I’ll fix the shed, you shut up and stay out of my way.”

Sighing, Davarax follows him without a word.

It doesn’t take much of an inspection of the shed for Dez’ suspicions to be confirmed; Davarax is far from as hopeless with repairs and buildings as Dulcy and Neleem has made him out to be. Of course. Gods forbid the man be bad at something. He’s not as good as Dez, few are, but he’d be perfectly capable of fixing the roof on Neleem’s school and he’s more than able to put together a stupid shed. This reeks of bad plotting.

Dez jumps down from the roof of the shed and lands next to the obediently quiet Davarax. Wiping his hands on his hips, Dez shakes his head. “This is stupid. You don’t need any help with this. I’m going back to my room.”

“Wait.” Davarax blurts out.

“No.” Dez flings out a hand, almost shoving his palm into Davarax’ stupid face. He does not want to hear a single stupid word from his stupid mouth. “Shut up.” But to his surprise, Davarax grabs his wrist and yanks his hand down.

“Stop acting like a bratty man-child.” Davarax snaps. As if Dez is the problem.

Dez blinks. Then he flies at Davarax with every intention of beating him to a bloody pulp.

“Get off me!” Dez shouts, lying on his stomach, struggling to free himself and so furious he’s barely able to form words. “GET OFF ME!”

“No.” Davarax grits out, putting all of his weight forward to dig his knees deeper into Dez’ lower back and holds Dez’ right arm twisted behind said back. He sounds pretty angry too, which is probably due to the hits Dez had managed to land on his ribs and his jaw. Good.

Dez draws a deep breath, about to launch into an alphabetical list of physical harm he’s going to do to Davarax if he doesn’t let him go, but that is when the obnoxious man has the audacity to use his other hand to grab Dez’ neck, push his head down, pressing his cheek against the too dry grass, and forces him still.

“Stop trying to punch me, you idiot.” Davarax orders. As if he is allowed to order Dez Vizla around.

“How about I shoot you instead?” Dez spits.

Davarax lets out a frustrated shout that sounds like music to Dez’ ears. “Why?”

Dez snorts in utter disbelief before he bellows out; “You stole my son!”

That brings several long seconds of silence, where neither man move and the words just hover uncomfortably in the air until Davarax is the one to speak first.

“I didn’t steal him, Dez.” His words are quiet and his grip on Dez’ neck softens. “You drove him away.” His fingers move to simply rest on Dez’ skin, like a comforting touch. “And you know that.”

This time when Dez bucks, Davarax shifts off him and slides over to sit next to him while he scrambles up into a sitting position as well. Breathing strained, Dez has to clench his hands to keep himself from punching him again. “I was trying to keep him alive! He was my boy and I wasn’t going to bury him like so many other Mandalorian parents. Not my son. I made him strong.”

“You were pushing him too hard.” Davarax says, in a disgustingly kind tone. “He was a child.”

Dez gets up on his feet, still breathing hard and now also shaking. “In this Galaxy, children die all the time if they aren’t strong enough.” He wipes the back of his hand over his cheek, brushing away imaginary grass. “My father pushed me worse. You remember. I never hurt Paz like that.”

Davarax’ eyes flicker away for a second, as if he’s feeling guilty, then he glances back up at Dez. “I remember.” He clears his throat. “But you were too hard on him. Paz grew up thinking you didn’t love him. That he was a disappointment to you. He needed someone to care.”

Dez’ entire body goes cold. “Why would he think that?” It doesn’t make sense.

“All he ever heard from the infamous Dez Vizla was that he needed to do better. He was never good enough. A kid needs to hear...” Davarax hesitates. “Didn’t your father tell you he loved you?”

“No.” Dez can’t picture Borr saying anything remotely as sentimental as that. He was not the kind of man who loved anything but a good battle. “But I think you’ve been spending too much time with Dulcy. It’s just words. She might love to talk, but we Mandalorians don’t need words.”

Davarax studies him for a moment. “I think we need to get better with them. Both Dulcy and Neleem keeps saying it; words have power. And I agree. They do. Even a simple word like buir.”

Dez feels the word like an elbow to the face and at this moment, he really does hate Davarax. “I should have let that guy shoot you. I won’t make that mistake again.” Stalking away, Dez’ heart is beating so loud and so fast that it basically drowns out Davarax calling out his name.

Even after he’s back in the safety of his room, Dez is unable to calm down. He paces the floor and grits his teeth like an agitated barghest. A headache is threatening to settle in and that doesn’t improve his mood further.

Paz thinking he doesn’t love him? How is that possible? HOW? He had been tough on the boy, yeah, but never cruel like Borr was. Dez knows his parenting hasn’t been flawless, but he had never been cruel, dammit! ...Had he?

The door to the room slides open and Dez spins around, ready to draw his blaster and actually shoot at Davarax if the man is stupid enough to follow him in here.

It’s Neleem. And she doesn’t look pleased. Probably regretting ever getting involved with him.

Exhaling, Dez turns away. “He started it.”

“I doubt that.” Neleem mutters and walks over to stand behind him. “Talk to me, Dez. You’ve been wound up from the moment we got to the Covert and ever since we arrived here, you’ve been downright angry. What’s bothering you?”

Talk, talk, talk… What is it with these people and their talking? Dez grunts annoyed. “Nothing.”

“It’s clearly something.” Neleem insists, placing her hand on his arm. “Why won’t you let me help you?”

“Because it’s pointless.” Dez grits out, staring at the floor. His headache is growing worse.

“Pointless?” Neleem sounds puzzled, as if she doesn’t realize that he already knows that he’ll be going back to the Covert alone. And maybe that’s a good thing? Dez should be alone.

His son had actually believed that Dez didn’t love him, Liita deserves better than to trade her lonely life on the red planet for a lonely life with him, Neleem doesn’t want to live underground while Dez has no choice, and Davarax wins at life, these are just facts. No amount of talk will change that.

“Yeah. Pointless.” Dez confirms He puts on his most arrogant tone. He is a Vizla, he doesn’t need anyone. Not her. Not Paz. No one. It’s better to end it now. “It’s not your problem.”

“How is you acting like a goon not my problem?” Neleem fires back with sharp words.

“Because you are going to leave me too!” Dez shouts in a mess of anger and hurt, and he spins around to face her.

That’s a mistake. A huge mistake. Turning around means seeing the startled surprise on her beautiful face and be reminded of just how much he’d grown to adore that face of hers. Dez could draw every single marking she has on her skin by memory alone. He knows the taste of the skin under her jawline and how she will make this cutest little snort if she breaks into a proper belly-laugh. He knows how soft her lekkus are and how strong her will can be. He knows her calm. He knows his heart will never recover from losing her.

“Dez, I…” Neleem stutters.

Dez closes his eyes. His mother died when he was too young to remember her. His father got a fever and disappeared during a dark night. Cedia went to war and never came back. Pre lost his mind and didn’t come back either. Skade didn’t bother telling him she was going to leave and ended their marriage with a holo-message. Paz, his only child, also disappeared without warning and left behind nothing but a holo-message telling Dez he’d gone with Davarax and Dulcy. Everyone always leave Dez Vizla. In the end, they all leave. Always.

“Dez.” Neleem sounds close to pleading. “Dez, look at me.”

Dez shakes his head. “Don’t. I’m too tired to play games today.” He’s tired of trying and failing all the time. He’s tired of being angry. He’s tired of hurting. He’s tired of trying to watch over his clan and have them fight him every step of the way. He’s tired of craving peace but never being allowed it.

“Dez.” Neleem’s voice is a little stronger, more determined, but now Dez feels, to his horror, that his tightly shut eyes are burning with incoming tears.

No. No way. He will not appear this pathetically weak in front of her. Dez will shoot himself in the head before he’ll let that happen.

But when he moves to turn away, Neleem grabs a hold of his face with both hands and yanks him back, startling his eyes open, and she stares at him with tears of her own while she gives a faint shake of her head.

“I’m not going to leave you, Dez.”

“You can stay here.” Dez whispers, wanting to turn away but can’t make himself break eye contact with her. “You can stay here with Dulcy and Davarax. Help out with the kids. They’ll be thrilled. I’ll just pack my stuff and head back to the Covert. Look after Liita for me?”

“You’re not listening, Dez.” Neleem says, running her thumbs along his cheekbones and smiling a little through her sadness. “You’re stuck with me, buddy.”

She can’t mean that. She can’t. But… Oh, his heart aches.

Wanting to believe but seeing no reason why she’d want to put up with more of his shitty behaviour, Dez leans forward and cautiously seeks her lips with his. Her soft warmth is endlessly sweet and feels so very soothing and so he lets the one gentle kiss turn into two and soon three.

The anger and dread goes away when Neleem leans against him and his arms goes around her. It ignites some kind of hopeless, fragile need for more. he needs to get closer. As close as he can get.

And to his soul-crushing relief; she welcomes him.

Neleem pushes her head back into the pillow and tries to breathe as her eyes flutter close while Dez’ mouth works its way down her throat. Her entire body feels like liquid fire. A heavy, drugging heat, different from the kind of heedless heat they usually experience during intimate moments like these.

There is no rush, this is slow, unhurried and lingering. Carnal pleasure seems almost like an afterthought to him as he barely moves on top of her, there is only the occasional roll of his hips that has him let out a trembling sigh and her muscles quake with longing, as Dez is entirely focused on covering her skin with soft kisses and caresses to an almost obsessive degree.

He spends a small eternity just mapping his way from her left shoulder to her right. He mouths at her shoulders, measures the roundness of her hips in his palms, nuzzles her neck and kisses her forehead before placing his own against it. He barely allows air between them.

There is so much affection in the softness of his lips and his touch, it brings tears back to her eyes.

Neleem had once overheard a couple of human girls talk about ‘making love’ and once she’d discovered what the term meant, she found it a bit hilarious and overly romanticized. Now, Neleem realizes, ‘this’ is what they meant. She never knew it could be like this. She had no idea.

Dez’ fingers braid with hers and he gives them a light squeeze as he slides his lips up her throat until he reaches her chin and she stops pushing into the pillow to lower her face and meet him a warm kiss. He doesn’t deepen it, just savours the push and give of their lips together, how they match to perfection, how every sensitive nerve between them is glowing with soft delight.

He has to release one of her hands when Dez decides he has to trail fingertips along her jawline, constantly planting soft little kisses on her lips, and Neleem absently runs her free hand down his back. The soft warmth of his skin makes every single one of his many scars seem like a crime. She wants to wrap herself around him and never let anyone hurt him again.

She lifts her hand to slide it up his neck and into that glorious mess of curls, pushing him into a couple of firmer kisses before leaning back into the pillow again and making him open his eyes to look into hers. He looks dazed, a bit drunk like her, but also still a little tense, as if he can’t quite trust that she doesn’t want their relationship to end. He looks like he thinks he’s on borrowed time.

Running her hand through his hair a couple of times, a soothing touch, she then cups the side of his face and states the obvious; “I love you.” This beautiful, stubborn, difficult, damaged and surprisingly kind human.

Dez stares like she’d just stabbed him. He’s gone completely still. He’s barely breathing.

Neleem lets him process the words while she is the one to explore his facial features with her fingertips.

“Say it again.” Dez says after a long silence.

Smiling a little, Neleem has no trouble obliging. She cups the side of his face again. “I love you.”

Being so close, she can feel the shudder running through his body.

“Again.” Dez whispers.

Now outright grinning, Neleem obliges once more. “I love you.”

Exhaling, Dez ducks down to plant a kiss between her neck and shoulder. “Again. Say it again.”

“I love you.”

His arms go around her and he squeezes her tight, as if he never wants to let her go. “Again.”

He sounds like he’s in pain. Neleem’s heart aches. “I love you.”

He moves up to kiss her lips with a taste of being lost. “Again.” Dez pleads against her mouth.

Neleem doesn’t hesitate. “I love you.” She says and feels his hand trail fingers by her temple. “I love you, Dez.”

Breathing something in what she can only guess is Mando’a and can’t understand, Dez kisses her again. Her mouth, her neck, her lekku, her hand, he can’t stop kissing her. And he keeps asking; “Say it again?”

Eventually he doesn’t even need to ask, Neleem continues to repeat the words. She runs her hands over his skin, draws her fingers through his hair, moves under him until he can’t resist and it all becomes a sweaty haze of raw emotion and growing need. “I love you.” Neleem breathes, eyes closed and fingers digging into his skin as he clings to her. “I love you.”

The silence in the room is almost deafening after the chaos that had been screaming in his head not too long ago. Dez is half-sitting in bed, propped up by pillows, and has his arm around Neleem, who is curled up against him, resting her head on his stomach and brushing light caresses on his hip with her thumb.

She loves him.

Her voice is still echoing in his head. Those words… Dangerous words. Addictive words. No one has ever told him they love him before. Not in actual words.

He’d come to accept that he wasn’t a person others loved. He thought Skade did, he was young and naive then, but she didn’t. No one did. No one but his son. Until he lost him, that is. Wasn’t that proof that Dez Vizla was unlovable?

‘I love you’.

Words have power, Neleem had said that once. And now Beskar Boy too. Dez has always been told words are for weaklings. Vizlas act, they don’t talk.

Leaning back, thumping his head lightly against the headboard, once, twice, Dez exhales. He doesn’t know what to do. He wants to be better, but he keeps messing up. His stomach starts to burn and ache, bringing a wave of nausea too.

“You okay?” Neleem asks, looking up at him.

Dez meets her gaze and her words flutter through his brain. It makes his heart do a weird flip in his chest. He wants to hear her say those words again. He wants to die for her. “I love you too.”

Neleem’s beautiful face lights up and she leans up to give him a soft kiss.

Once again the tension and unease fades away when she’s close and when she returns to resting against him, Dez leans back again and with a clear mind, thinks about his future.

He can’t have everything he wants. That’s just not possible. He’s going to have to choose.

The very next day, Dez Vizla decides to first do the thing he least wants to do. It takes all of his will-power and he fears he might regret it, but he forces himself to do it anyway.

“I…” Dez has to try again. “I’m sorry. About yesterday.”

Davarax is half-hidden behind the shed, working on something there, and stares at Dez like he has grown a second head over night. There is an almost impressive bruise blooming on his jaw. “What?”

“I said,” Dez says, “I’m sorry about yesterday.”

There is a moment of hesitation and then Davarax steps forward to fully face him. “That’s...what I thought you said.” He looks like he can’t decide whether to be scared or curious. “What’s going on?”

Dez shrugs, looks away and then rolls his shoulder a little awkwardly. “I’m apologizing, you idiot.”

“Yeah, I can hear that.” Davarax replies, snorting a laugh. “I thought you said apologies were pointless?”

He should have known Davarax wouldn’t make this easy for him. That man always has to rub Dez’ nose into everything unpleasant. “Forget it.” Dez growls and turns to leave.

“Wait.” Davarax runs over and gets in his way, preventing him from leaving. “Wait-wait-wait.”

Dez sighs and settles to wait for whatever he wants to say.

“Nice to hear you’re the one sighing for once.” Davarax grins, as if his words make any sense. Then he reaches out a hand. “Apology accepted, vod.”

It can’t be this easy. It can’t. Still, Dez sees little choice but to take his hands and shake it. He only realizes he’s entered a trap when Davarax doesn’t let go. And the grin on his face is pure evil.

“I told you we were going to become friends, didn’t I?” Davarax says with utter glee.

Dez glares. “I said nothing about becoming friends.” He tries to tug his hand free. “Let go.”

In all fairness, Davarax does let go, but only after he’s yanked Dez forward and engulfs him in an embrace instead.

Dez snarls and starts squirming and pushing at him. “What do you think you’re doing? Let go of me, you-”

“I’m sorry too.” Davarax whispers.

Dez freezes. What does he have to be sorry for?

“I didn’t realize those injuries came from your father.” Davarax confesses. “I didn’t realize Pre was making your life miserable too. And I failed entirely to see how much you needed a friend.”

Dez swallows. His stomach rolls uneasily. “Calm your saviour complex. I outlived my father and Pre both, didn’t I? A-and it wasn’t like I didn’t have any friends, you weirdo.” So what if they were Vizlas and obliged to be on good terms with him? “Besides, that was ages ago. I don’t even think about it any more. You shouldn’t either.”

Davarax’ embrace tightens a bit and Dez is about to start fighting anew to be released when the man speaks again.

“If it’s okay,” Davarax’ voice is low, strangely uncertain, “I’d like to help you reconnect with Paz.”

-I don’t need you karking help! Dez’ pride sneers. But the sad fact is, even with Liita and Neleem to help him, Dez still manages to mess things up. He has to face that he needs all the help he can get. Why not let Beskar Boy do some good for him for once. Dez clears his throat. “That would be… Yeah… Thanks.” The things he will do, the depths he will sink to, for his son.

Bizarrely enough, this makes Davarax do that weird laughter-huff of his and he really curls around him in an engulfing hug, like Dez is his best friend that he hasn’t seen in years. It’s warm, comforting and kind of… nice.

Dez nearly rolls his eyes, of course even Davarax’ hugs are as ‘perfect’ as the man himself, but he can’t quite get himself to break free. It’s too tempting to give in. Maybe just a little. Dez can count on one hand the hugs he’s gotten in his life, not including the ones Paz had happily handed out during his youngest years. Besides, it’s not like anyone will know. So Dez relaxes a little and lifts a hand to put it on Davarax’ back.

“Do you two need some privacy, or…?”

Dez’ gaze snaps over and sees Raga watching them with her arms crossed and a huge grin on her face. Behind her, Paz is all slack-jawed disbelief.

Instantly shoving and cursing at Davarax, Dez frees himself and flees towards the house.

“You call that welding?” Liita scoffs. The sun is setting but neither are willing to stop working.

“There is nothing wrong with my welding.” Dez replies with calm confidence. The bratty girl is never satisfied with any welding she doesn’t do herself, but this is his ship, dank farrik, and if he wants to work on it as well, he can. He is currently fusing two outer panels by the ship’s nose, which is important work that needed to be done and not him hiding from Davarax at all, and Liita will just have to deal.

“It’s cold.” Liita complains.

“I told you to bring a jacket.” Dez reminds her, focused on his welding.

“How was I supposed to know you were right?” Liita huffs. “Most of the things you say are wrong.”

Dez sends her a sour glare. “I’m almost always right. And if you had listened to me, you wouldn’t be freezing right now, would you? You’ve only got yourself to blame, kid.”

“You got this one thing right. Let’s not have it go to your head.” Liita mutters, stepping in front of him. “I’m cold!”

Dez turns his attention back to the welding. “So what do you want me to do about it? Summon a sun? I’m flattered that you think I have such abilities, but I’m just a humble Mandalorian.”

Liita rolls her eyes with a frustrated huff and promptly tugs the zipper on his jacket halfway down. She then, with complete lack of the expected fear and awe one should have for Dez Vizla, ducks down, wiggles her way up under his jacket and eventually ends up standing with her back to his stomach and her sullen face poking out from his jacket to continue observing his work.

“You seriously don’t know how to weld a friction seam.” Liita mutters.

Dez carries on welding. “Shut up. My welding is fine.”

Liita does not shut up. She keeps nitpicking. And he keeps giving her orders she bluntly ignores.

It’s the nicest and most relaxing evening Dez has had in a long while.

“Dez.” Davarax’ voice shatters Dez’ tranquillity.

Closing his eyes, taking a deep breath, Dez needs a moment before he turns off the welder and prepares to face Beskar Boy again. He turns and a sour comment dies on his lips when he sees Davarax is not alone.

Paz is standing next to him.

“Paz.” Dez says, stupidly, and feels a flare of anger at himself for sounding so stupid, especially as his son responds with a faint nod and a puzzled look.

Luckily stupid is what Davarax does best and he does that stupid laughter-huff of his and beams with badly hidden amusement. “Hi, Liita.”

“Hey.” She grumps from where she’s peering out of Dez’ jacket.

Oh.

Grinning, clearly finding the scene hilarious, Davarax nods in Paz’ direction. “Mind if we borrow Dez for a bit? Paz needs a word with him.”

Liita sighs, then ducks down and wiggles out of Dez’ jacket to wander forward to face Davarax. She looks up at him with a stern look. “Okay, let’s go back to the house.”

Davarax hesitates, glancing briefly over at Paz. “I, uh… I was thinking maybe I should… stay?”

Of course. Dez feels a spark of anger in his gut and his shoulders tenses up. He gets why, he’s messed up so many times that he should probably be happy that Beskar Boy can supervise, but...

“No.” Liita reaches out, puts her hands against Davarax’ stomach and forces him to start backing up. “Dez got this. Let’s go.”

The anger is knocked right out of Dez at her words. That girl...

Still backing up, Davarax looks over at Paz again, sees him nod and nods back before he shifts to walk next to Liita instead of being pushed along.

“I’m cold.” Liita declares. “Give me your jacket.”

Davarax gives her his jacket. (Of course he does.)

There is an awkward silence after Liita and Davarax’ departure but eventually Dez puts the cooling machine on the ground, no more welding tonight, and he brushes his hands together in what he’d die before admitting is a nervous move. “So, uh… What did Davarax tell you?”

Paz doesn’t look as scared as before, but his walls are up and he’s eyeing Dez cautiously. “He said… you wanted to apologize for yelling on the ship. That you weren’t mad at me.”

Dez shifts his weight and clears his throat. “I… I’m guessing you’re getting really tired of hearing me apologizing after messing up all the time, huh?”

Paz looks down at the ground and doesn’t reply. He clearly doesn’t know what to say. Either he really is sick of Dez’ apologies or he’s worried what will happen if he admits Dez had messed up.

Dez takes a step closer to his son, reaching out and almost touching his arm before catching himself and lowering his hand again. “Listen, on the ship, that was me being stupid again. Not you. Never you.” Words have power, he reminds himself. “You know I’m proud of you, right?”

Paz’ gaze snaps up to meet his. He looks shocked, so clearly this is news to him.

Dez’ stomach churns and pained guilt floods his veins. “I am. I’ve always been.” He tries to smile and fails. “Remember I told you that your mother made me happy by giving me you? You’ve always been the one good thing in my life. Possibly the only good thing in my life.”

Paz draws a shivering breath and despite the years that have gone by, he suddenly looks like the lost little boy Dez remembers.

“I’m so sorry for the way I treated you.” Dez whispers with pained intensity. “I’m so sorry. I know it doesn’t change anything, it doesn’t excuse me in any way, but I thought it was the best way to make you strong, to keep you alive in a Galaxy that kills everything it can. I was wrong. I should have told you, I should have explained, I should have… done better. I was cruel to you. I’m sorry. You don’t have to say anything, I just wanted to say I know I was wrong and I’m sorry.”

Paz swallows hard and looks away. “I…”

“You don’t have to say anything.” Dez reassures him, and now his stomach aches so much it feels like he’s been stabbed all over again. He walks away, heading back to the house, aiming to give Paz some space and prevent himself from embarrassing himself even more.

“Can I…” Paz’ voice calls out after him. “Can I still call you buir?”

Freezing in his tracks, Dez blinks frantically to clear his eyes off the karking burning sensation again(!) before he can look back at his son. He actually manages to smile this time, feels light-headed with relief. “It would be an honour to me if you did.”

Paz exhales and smiles as well, and in three long strides he’s over by his father and folds into his embrace.

Hugging him tight, Dez doesn’t care that Paz is taller than him by now, every bit as muscular as himself if not more, he’ll always be his baby boy.

He’s not Dez. He’s not Pre. He’s not Borr or Tor or any other Vizla. He’s Paz and he’s perfect.

The mood in the house seems to change after that. It’s like everyone dares to relax, to laugh and go about their business without keeping a cautious eye on Dez. Paz even seeks him out for company and with him comes Raga, who is just an utter delight with her strength and rebellious nature. The Saxons are all amazing. Dez has always found the Saxons great fun to be around.

Then there is Corin, who has always been friendly, but now he starts asking Dez endless odd questions and stares non-stop at him when he thinks Dez won’t notice. He looks more at Dez than his own boyfriend. It’s awkward until Dulcy reluctantly tells Dez of the monster that was Corin’s biological father and Dez tenses up when he hears about a temper similar to his own, but it certainly explains why Corin is mesmerized; Macero Valentis would rather have died than apologize to his son or changed a single thing about his own behaviour. It’s weak of Dez, but after that he answers his every question and lets him stare.

Two who still do not approve of Dez are Din and Zev’sonya. Din shows Dez wary suspicion and she gives him rude indifference. But they are kids and are not worthy of Dez’ time, so he more or less ignores them.

The one who surprises Dez is Mose. Again. He hasn’t spent much time with him before, but once Dez does, he discovers that the Hutt is certainly nothing like he thought he’d be. He hasn’t forgotten that Mose saved Paz’ life during the Imp attack, putting him on his good side, but discovering that the Hutt is first in line to look after Davarax and Dulcy’s girl is most unexpected.

“I would have thought you’d be more interested in eating her.” Dez comments with a wry smile as he watches Mose wipe Nemi’s messy hands clean with a rag. “Hutts don’t babysit kids.”

“Know many Hutts, do you?” Mose mumbles with a touch of defiance.

Raising his eyebrows, Dez snorts a laugh. “You got me there.” He tilts his head and studies the gentle movements as Mose cleans the girl’s tiny hands with his huge ones. “But I think you’re a bit different from the rest, aren’t you?”

Mose frowns just a little. “So? It’s not wrong. Just because everyone expect you to be something, it doesn’t mean you have to become it.”

That brings another laugh from Dez. All of his worries and heavy thoughts haunting him day and night, and a Hutt puts things into the simplest way possible and gives him the answer he’s been searching for. “Mose,” Dez moves over and pats his shoulder, “don’t change, my friend. You’re more honourable and more clever than most humans I’ve met.” He can feel the stunned Hutt watching him as he walks away.

That evening, Dulcy has put together a feast, clearly influenced by the lighter mood in the house and eager to gather even more smiles. Dez doesn’t mind. He thinks it’s silly to put so much effort into something that isn’t a big deal, but he’s happy to join in and devour good food. It’s almost worth having to sit next to Davarax and listen to his voice. He even allows Davarax’ hand to linger on his shoulder while he goes on about some project he wants Dez’ opinion on.

Suddenly a shadow falls over them and he looks up to see Dulcy hovering in front of the table, biting her lower lip and radiating delight.

“What?” Dez asks through a mouthful, wary of this scheming mastermind.

“I’m just…” Dulcy gestures towards them. “I mean, Dav has me and the kids and it’s all good, but… he must have missed having a grown Mandalorian friend to hang out with.”

Dez blinks. Then he reaches up to gingerly peel Davarax’ hand off his shoulder. “No. No-no-no. No, we?” A quick pointing back and forth between him and Davarax. “We are not friends.”

Davarax grins. His arm goes around Dez’ shoulders and he yanks him close to squeeze him tight. “We are best friends.”

“Let go of me, you clown.” Dez snarls, trying to break free and failing. The man is freakishly strong. And why are his arms so long. He’s like a squid. A freakishly strong squid. “Let go!”

“No way, buddy.”

“LET GO!”

Dulcy giggles

Neleem giggles.

Pas and the others merely stare with disbelief.

It’s late, usually Dez is asleep at this hour, when they crawl into bed and Neleem wiggles close to him with a happy sigh. She pets his stomach with a cheerful hum. “How is this doing?”

“Growing, due to the rate I’m fed here and how lazy I’m getting.” Dez replies. It’s probably true.

Neleem snorts. “Relax, Vizla, you are just as slim and buff as always. And I’m being serious. Don’t make me get the medical scanner.”

Groaning, Dez flips her over on her side and slides close to her back, wrapping an arm tight around her waist to hold her there and to prevent her from getting the scanner. “How many times do I have to tell you? It’s just a gut ache. It’s no big deal.” He can feel her draw a sharp breath to object and cuts her off. “I feel better than I have in ages, cyar’ika. Relax.”

“I’d relax if you’d let me scan you.” Neleem declares, squirming and pushing at his arm to free herself. “I swear, Dez, if you’re feeling worse and hiding it from me, I will-”

“I’m not hiding anything from you. I give you my word.” Dez has to give up holding her in place, she is determined to free herself, and flops over on his back again as she turns and crawls halfway on top of him, glaring. “For the love of… it’s just a gut ache.”

“That ‘gut ache’?” Neleem jabs a finger in his stomach, making him flinch and grunt. “It could actually kill you. Do you understand? It will continue to make you sick, poison you from the inside and then, in agonizing pain, you will die.”

Dez smiles, just a tiny smile, a smile far softer than most that grace his face, and he shakes his head while reaching out to trail a gentle finger down one of her lekkus. “I’m not going to die.” He moves his touch to her lips. “Why would I die when I finally have reasons to stay alive?”

“I need you to take this seriously.” Neleem’s voice tremble. “Please. If you keep going like this, it will kill you.”

Maybe Dez should find it insulting that she seems to think him weak, that she thinks she can order him around, but he doesn’t. She’s worried. And all he cares about right now is easing her worries.

Dez tells her his plans.

Neleem’s face is a mixture of cautious hope and, surprisingly, a little regret. “Are you sure…?”

“I am.” Thanks to Mose. “I’ve been thinking about it for a very, very long time. I’m sure.”

The next day he tells the others when they are gathered for breakfast in the kitchen. Paz looks like he’s about to faint, Dulcy gets so startled that she has to sit down and Davarax so shocked that he has to stand up.

Dez feels Neleem, sitting next to him, finding his hand under the table and squeezing it. He is a little puzzled as to why she does it, but it’s appreciated nonetheless. She seems more nervous about his decision than he is. Truth be told, he’s just ready to get it over with. “I’ll travel back to the Covert today.”

“You are really going to go back like… that?” Paz asks.

Dez nods. He’s not wearing his helmet or his armour. He’s dressed like any other traveller.

“I’ll come with you.” Davarax says, adding more shock to the situation.

Not expecting that, Dez frowns. “They may not let you in.”

“They will if you tell them to.” Davarax says, trying to smile and not entirely succeeding. A sore point, then. Beskar Boy, always the popular one, it must hurt for him to know he’s not welcome.

“I’ll be an outcast too the second they see me. Why do you think they’ll listen to anything I say?” Dez mutters.

“Because they like me,” Davarax replies, “but they respect you.”

They respect Davarax fine. They always have. But there is the chance that his defeat and absence these years may have weakened his grip on their hearts and minds. Still Dez isn’t keen on the idea. “Why would you want to come with me?”

“If your grand plan of bringing as many as possible out from underground is to work, well…” Now Davarax manages to smile and his eyes glitter with amusement. “They respect you, as I said, but they really like me.”

“You’ll be going against your sister.”

“No. I’ll just be helping to move out the ones who are already unhappy and giving her trouble.”

“I’ll come too.” Paz declares in a rush.

“Me as well.” Raga shoots in.

“And me!” Corin blurts out. Din glares at him.

Dulcy waves her hand and quiets them all. She then exhales a long breath before she focuses on the stunned Dez. “It certainly looks like you won’t be going alone, Dez Vizla.”

All his life, Dez has been reminded of the fact that he is a Vizla. All his life he was expected to be the strongest, the fiercest and an undisputed leader, and all of his life he’s tried to live up to that. He raised his son to think like that too. The Vizla blood runs thick in their veins.

- Just because everyone expect you to be something, it doesn’t mean you have to become it.

Everyone expected him to lead the clan after Pre died and it had never occurred to Dez to say no. After that, every soul in the clan brought their problems to Dez and it never occurred to him not to care. They were his people and his responsibility.

When the ship lands outside the Covert, Dez feels the first jab of nerves. He has decided and he’s not going to change his mind, but he’s bound to disappoint a lot of his followers with his decision to take off his helmet and leave and Dez hates that. They’ve all been so loyal to him.

Dez steps off the ship, leaving Liita in the cockpit, and he is followed by Davarax, Neleem and Paz. Raga, Corin and Din are ordered to wait in the cargo hold until their return.

As expected, two Mandalorians step forward to defend it when they approach the secret door.

“Step aside.” Dez orders.

The guards jolt with startled surprise as they recognize his voice, they probably scan him to confirm his identity, and Dez feels a flicker of irritation when they numbly step aside to let him in.

So much for security.

But Dez has barely stepped through the door before the guards move to block the entrance again and prevent the others from joining him. Davarax and Paz are both wearing their armour, sans helmet, but they are clearly not welcome any more. Neither is Neleem, who is a plain Outsider now.

“Let them through.” Dez says in his firmest voice. For half a nerve-wrecking second, he wonders if this is pushing it too far and will have the guards turn on him as well, but then, to his surprise, they step aside and let the others through.

“See?” Davarax whispers. “I told you.”

“Shut up.” Dez mutters back.

However, the guards must have used their comm links as there is someone waiting for them at the bottom of the stairs.

Dez exhales with relief. It’s Sungodt. His second in command and leader when Dez is not around.

“Dez?” Sungodt says, sounding like he doesn’t want to believe it is true.

“It’s me.” Dez confirms.

“Why?” Sungodt asks. “What happened? How could this happen?”

“Nothing happened.” Dez replies. “I happened. It was my choice.”

Sungodt hesitates. “But… “

“I’m sick of being stuck underground, hiding like a coward. And despite our best efforts; nothing has changed since we left Concordia. It’s time to break free, Sungodt. I want to talk to our people and offer them to join me. We can start over and make our own Covert above ground.”

Sungodt stares at him. “You want to break up this Covert? She won’t allow that.”

Davarax smirks. “I don’t think she’ll mind. She has never kept anyone here against their will.”

“I will talk to her first. Explain. Then I’ll meet with our clan.” Dez declares.

Sungodt hesitates. “They will follow you, you know.”

“I hope so.” Dez admits. Then he pulls his shoulders back and nods. “Okay, let’s go see her.”

It’s time to finally get his people out of the darkness.

Sungodt leads the way, Dez follows, behind him Neleem takes Paz’ hand and offers the nervous youth her support, and then finally Davarax, who keeps their backs safe. They march towards the new forge, ignoring the puzzled looks from fellow Mandalorians, and only have to wait a couple of seconds as Sungodt enters the room and informs their leader of the visitors before he appears in the doorway and nods.

Dez walks inside, hears the footsteps of the others following him, but most of all; feels the weight of the gaze behind that golden helmet. Fire is reflecting in the shiny metal.

She’s watching him, a silent figure behind her work bench, as ominous and omniscient as always. It’s one of the many things Dez has always liked about her.

“I have decided to leave this Covert.” Dez says, as if him not wearing his helmet or his armour isn’t screaming that already. “And I’ve come to ask my clan to leave with me.”

Sungodt raises his blaster and shoots Dez three times in the chest. “Traitor.”

As Dez is flung backwards, Davarax and the golden leader draw their blasters at the same time and fires four lethal shots each at Sungodt.

“DEZ!” Neleem screams as she rushes forward. Paz shouts; “NO!” and bursts forward as well.

Seconds later, Dez lies on the floor, muscles twitching and his mouth spitting blood, while Davarax kneeling by him and yanking Dez’ jacket open to get to his wounds. Paz is frantically bellowing at someone to bring him an emergency kit.

Tears flowing, Neleem touches Dez’ face with trembling fingers. “Stay with me, Dez. You have to stay with me.”

Dez almost smiles, despite the pain and being unable to breathe. She cares. Paz cares. Even Beskar Boy cares. They actually care.

Someone will mourn him. Nobody mourned Borr or Pre.

Dez Vizla was loved.

-Stay with me. She had pled. Neleem had been desperate and helpless as she watched Dez fade, bleeding out in front of her, but she kept pleading. -Stay with me. Please, stay with me. Dez, please.

Words have power, but they can’t heal three shots to the chest. There was nothing she could do but plead and cry while Davarax and Paz tried to stop the bleeding.

Sitting on the porch in front of the house, her feet resting on one of the lower steps of the stairs, Neleem stares emptily ahead at nothing. The neighbourhood is unusually quiet.

Stepping down on the top step of the stairway, Dez slowly eases himself down to sit next to her with a pained grunt escaping his lips. Three days and his torso still hurts. The bacta is speeding up the healing process, like usual, but this time the injuries were far more severe and not even Dez Vizla can ignore his body’s complaints if he tries to move around too much. “How are you feeling?” He asks.

Neleem huffs a laugh. “Asks the guy who got shot. Three times.”

“I’m a Mandalorian. It happens.” Dez says, but when he gets no response, he slides his arm around Neleem’s shoulders and pulls her close. “Hey. I told you; I’ve got no plans on dying now that I finally have reasons to stay alive. No insignificant fool like Sungodt can kill Dez Vizla.”

The betrayal hurt almost as much as the shots, yet he understands why Sungodt did what he did.

Also, a part of Dez wonders if this could be justice catching up and making him pay for all the hurt and misery he’d caused in the past. He’s in pain, but he’s not angry. It feels right.

“But you’re going to go back to the Covert, aren’t you?” Neleem says, finally glancing over at him. “They might actually succeed in killing you next time.”

Dez sighs. “I can’t just leave them there. I agreed to be their leader and they trust me.” He tries a faint smile. “But don’t worry. I’m not going anywhere for a while yet. I feel like crap.”

Neleem nods, still too serious for his liking, and she reaches out a hand to touch his chest where one of the bacta patches hide under his shirt. The incident had startled her badly.

And she’s not the only one still shell-shocked from what had happened.

Davarax has decided it was his fault for not spotting the danger and reacting fast enough to prevent Sungodt from attacking. Paz, the silly boy, claims that, no, it was his fault and that he had failed his father. Raga claims it never would have happened if she had been allowed to go with them.

Dulcy has turned into a complete tip-yip and monitors Dez’ progress with scary intensity. Corin has come by every day to deliver a gift and make sure he’s doing okay, and Din even joined him once to mumble wishes for a quick recovery.

The cutest visit to his sickbed was Mose and Nemi, while the scariest was Barthor just hovering by his bed and staring at him. The thin wire around Dez’ left wrist is evidence that Liita went partway through with her promise and he is now tagged with her tracking device.

Yeah, they all need a break. Dez included.

In the past, he would have thought of this as a show of weakness, but not any more. He sees a lot of things differently these days. (Davarax is still a pain, obnoxiously perfect and a magnet for the love of everyone within ten parsecs, but… he is tolerable if you just manage to disregard that. And don’t get close enough for him to get a hold and start hugging you.)

“Let’s go inside.” Dez mumbles, his lips against Neleem’s temple. “It’s late. You need to rest.”

“Again, coming from the man who was shot three times in the chest.” Neleem mumbles, irrationally stuck on that minor detail.

“Come rest with me then.” Dez drawls with a teasing grin and that finally lures a smile from her.

Neleem shakes her head with an amused expression. “Fine. I guess that is the only way I’ll know you’re actually resting and not up to something stupid.”

“I’m Dez Vizla. Nothing I do is stupid.” Dez grins, kissing her temple.

“You nearly died twice in less than two weeks.” Liita states, appearing from the house and walking over to sit down and burrow in under Dez’ free arm to settle next to him. “That’s pretty stupid in my book. That’s why I’ve tagged your signal in my tracker as ‘Stupidhead’.”

Dez grunts and tightens his grip, squeezing Liita against his side to savour her annoyed sputterings. “If you want me to adopt you, you’re going to have to start being nice to me.”

Liita squirms and shoves at him until he makes a pained sound and they both settle. “I never said you had to adopt me.” She scoffs. Then, after a moment of hesitation, the girl sends him a cautious look. “Why? Are you saying… you want to?”

Neleem rests her head on Dez’ shoulder and gives his arm an encouraging caress.

“If that would be okay with you, Liita.” Dez replies.

“I’ll think about it.” Liita mumbles and turns her face away, but not fast enough so Dez and Neleem can’t see the bright smile she’s desperately fighting against.

“You do that.” Dez says. “In the meanwhile, how about you two help a poor Mando to his feet?”

Neleem and Liita both eagerly help Dez get up, which he could have easily managed on his own but knows how satisfying it is to them when they get to be the strong ones, and the three of them start walking towards the door.

The door slides open and Paz freezes after a single step through it. He sees Neleem and Liita under each of Dez’ arms, appearing to be supporting him and helping him walk. Paz goes deathly pale. “Buir? Are you okay? Do you need help?”

Dez shakes his head with a faint smile. “Nothing to worry about, son.”

Paz takes another step forward and is clearly not reassured. “I can help.”

Gingerly lifting his arms to free Liita and Neleem, Dez is then the one to take a step forward and he reaches out to slide his hand behind Paz’ neck, making him focus on his eyes. “Paz, son, I’m just a little tired and achy, and these two fine souls were easy to trick into helping me. That’s all.”

That has Liita huffing with offence, Neleem roll her eyes and Paz grinning.

Dez will never ever tire of seeing his son smile. He used to smile so much as a toddler, but then came his teenage years and there were no smiles at all. They have so much catching up to do.

Paz easily moves forward when his father gives him a gentle tug and does not hesitate to fold into a warm hug.

So many hugs to catch up on as well. Dez doesn’t care that it is weak to want them, they feel nice. It makes him feel calm. And loved. And so what if his clan turns his back on him? Dez will still have his family and… friends. He’s not alone any more.

“Can anyone join in on that hug or…?” A voice asks with no small amount of amusement.

Dez turns around, startled as he recognizes that voice, and can only stare with mute shock as he sees a helmetless Sobek Saxon stands in front of the stairway leading up to them. Her arms are crossed, there is a wide grin on her face and Sobek radiates relaxed confidence. Behind her stands her husband, their three sons, and at least twenty more Mandalorians. None of which are wearing their helmet, but carries it under their right arm.

“What…?” Dez stutters.

Sobek shrugs one shoulder. “We followed you off Concordia. We’ll follow you above ground and into damnation too. This is our Way.”

Paz glances around, probably scouting for Raga as if she’d be summoned by her family’s presence.

A young Vizla makes his way closer to Sobek and tries to get a peek of Dez, but accidentally bumps into Shezmu Saxon, who grabs him and flings him to the ground and a vicious fight break out. Two Vizlas step forward to try to break it up, but that only causes Shezmu’s two brothers to join in on the fight.

“Now is not the time for this, you idiots!” Arren Kryze shouts, before he has to duck to avoid a punch and that is when mayhem really erupts among the Mandalorians gathered there.

Sobek doesn’t move, still looks up at Dez with arms crossed and a grin on her face.

The door slides open again behind them and Davarax comes charging out, followed by several of his children, but only to come to an abrupt halt next to Dez. He stares with disbelief at the chaos in front of the house. Dulcy clings to his arm and stares as well.

Somewhere, a window is shattered.

“There goes the neighbourhood…” Liita mumbles.

Dez grins. He sneaks one arm around Neleem, who is all eyes, and one arm around Liita, who is scowling at the loud ruffians. He looks over at his son. “This? This is the Way.” Then looks at Neleem. His heart is racing. “Will you walk it with me?”

Neleem studies his face as a smile slowly spreads across her lips. “Yes.”

“As my wife?”

“Yes.”

And amidst the loud chaos of the start of a new Tribe, Dez leans down and kisses her.

“I love you.” Neleem whispers against his lips.

“I love you too.” Dez replies with warm truth. “And, thank you. For saving me.” Without her, he would either have turned into a harsh creature like Borr or died in some random dispute. Without her, he wouldn’t have his son back in his life. Without her, he wouldn’t be a better man.

Dez Vizla has said goodbye to his old self.

Let the future begin.

#the mandalorian his son and the storm trooper #what if AU #Dez Vizla #Neleem #Davarax #Dulsissia Motti #Paz Vizsla #Raga Saxon #Corin #Din #Mose the Hutt #small mentionings of the others #the one-shots start coming and they don't stop coming #this is too long to be considered a one-shot but I don't care

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crystalshard · 4 years ago

Note

“Listen here, my good sir, how dare you treat a boy as good and kind as Paz so poorly! My ex-husband, may he rest in pieces, wanted to make my son into a good little copy, and now you’re doing the same to yours! You do not deserve to be a parent, Dez Hakan Vizsla, so I’m going to adopt Paz myself. You don’t get to abuse a child and get away with it. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I am going to bake cookies for BOTH my sons. Good day!”

This is just me but I can see Dulsy standing up to Vizsla after going through hell with her (ex)husband and her own family and gained her confidence. It would be nice to see him knocked down a peg by someone completely unexpected.

She did not grow up with the hushed whispers of awe about the Vizlas, who are basically considered dethroned royalties about to reclaim their power at any moment, so she has no ingrained respect holding her back if she was to discover what home-life is like for Paz.

Davarax could only watch in horror as she would march up the much larger Dez Vizla and give him a piece of her mind. “Listen here, my good sir...!”

#the mandalorian his son and the storm trooper #dulsissia #take that you overgrown sack of muscle-for-brains

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sulphuryasecretcloset · 3 years ago

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What If... Tweets #2

Bonus:

#the mandalorian his son and the storm trooper #what if au #Mandorin tweets #davarax #dulsissia motti #dez vizla #Neleem #Macero Valentis #someone PLEASE take the internet away from me

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sulphuryasecretcloset · 4 years ago

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What if...? Part 5

(I know, I knooooow....I said 4 parts. Then adjusted it to 5 parts... Guess what? I’m up to 7 now. I can only hope that will be the final number... T-T And I still blame y’all xD You beautiful enablers, you <3 You know who you are! Writer baiters, commenters and rebloggers, thank you all! <3 <3 <3)

What if Dulsissia hadn’t died, what if she had grabbed Corin and fled? What if she met Davarax? What if...

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

She has to get away. She has to run. She has to grab Corin and run. There are no storm troopers kicking in the doors of the Covert yet, there is still time. They can still try to get away.

The thoughts keep spinning inside her head and her heart is beating so hard she can barely hear anything except the pulse thumping in her ears. Her fingertips tingle and she’s dizzy.

“Just…” Davarax turns his attention to the children staring with horror at them. “Paz, continue the training. Everything is okay. Corin, do you hear me? Your mother just had a scare, but she’ll be fine. You’re all safe. I promise. Just go back to training and I’ll be back in a bit.”

Dulsissia makes a weak sound of protest when he bends down and picks her up like she’s a bride at a wedding and not in the middle of a disaster, but he ignores her and carries her out into the hallway.

“We’re going to your room and then you’re going to tell me what’s going on.” Davarax says, it’s a gentle tone but he’s determined.

“We have to leave…” Dulsissia whispers, strangely weak and helpless all of a sudden, haunted by the countless memories of Macero unleashing his fury on others for much smaller offences than the one she’s committed against him. His pride will never recover and he will never forgive her.

Davarax doesn’t answer, merely continues walking down the hallway and doesn’t stop until she has to reach out and press the button to open the door to her and Corin’s room.

When he steps inside, she notices Davarax pausing for half a second as his gaze goes from cup to cup and whatever else she had used to put the flowers in to place them all around the room, then he snaps out of it and walks over to lower her to sit on the edge of the bed.

Once she’s steady and her feet are on the floor, Davarax crouches down in front of her. “Dulcy, tell me what happened.”

“I went above.” She replies in a whisper, staring emptily ahead. She can feel herself wringing her hands until her fingers hurt and then a pang of absent gratitude when Davarax gently places his gloved hand over them to make her stop. “I saw… There are storm troopers in Nevarro.”

There is a moment of silence before Davarax says the least thing she expects; “I know.” He doesn’t sound surprised or worried at all. “Is that what upset you? A storm trooper?”

Snapping out of her staring, Dulsissia flicks her gaze down to his t-visor. “What do you mean you know?”

Davarax gives a faint shake of his head. “There’s a military base not too far from the city. They come in to get some extra supplies some times. Nobody really wants them here, but it’s safer for the people of Nevarro to just sell them their goods and get them on their way again.”

Confusion battles with her fear and Dulsissia tries to make sense of things. If Macero knew she was here, he wouldn’t send a lone storm trooper to chat up the villagers. The city would have been burning and there would be white armor everywhere. She swallows and exhales. Just a random trooper then? Or a scout? How can she be sure? “If… if a storm trooper came here not to buy goods, but to… look for someone. You wouldn’t know the difference, would you?”

“The Covert is keeping an eye on that base, believe me. And we have ears in the city. If something was going on, we’d know.” Davarax reassures her. He seems to need to gather a bit of courage before asking his next question: “Is… is that who you are hiding from? A storm trooper?”

A bitter laugh slips from Dulsissia’s lips before she can stop it. If only! A single storm trooper she could have handled, but Macero has thousands of them at his beck and call. “I wish.”

“An officer then.” Davarax deduces. His fingers curl gently around hers. “Do you want him dead?”

He is offering. If she says yes and gives him the name, Davarax will go for Macero’s life.

Dulsissia thinks about how in a fair fight Macero wouldn’t stand a chance against Davarax’ muscle and skills, but then she also thinks about Macero hiding away in the heart of the Empire, surrounded by guards and the terrifying amount of soldiers and all kinds of horrible weapons available to him.

“No.” She lies. She will not risk having Macero take Davarax away from her and the children.

Davarax looks at her, knows she’s lying, but eventually gives a nod. He respects her choice.

“I didn’t…” Dulsissia knows she doesn’t have to explain herself to Davarax, but she wants to. She can’t stand the idea of him thinking less of her now. His opinion matters to her. “I didn’t know he was like… that when I…” She exhales, sharp with anger at herself and her own naivety. “I could have handled it if my mistake only hurt me, but… I couldn’t do that to Corin. So I ran.” She looks over at the visor and forces a smile. “I guess you’re regretting those flowers now, huh?”

“Do you still love him? The officer?”

The idea is preposterous. Dulsissia shakes her head. “The man I fell in love with back then wasn’t real. He never was. It was all an act.”

“Then, no,” Davarax reaches up and tucks a lock of her hair behind her ear, “I don’t regret them.”

Her eyes flood with tears and Dulsissia cannot believe just how good this man is. How incredibly lucky she was to have met him in her hour of need. Him, of all the souls in the Galaxy. “You are a bit too good to be true, Sir.”

Davarax hums thoughtfully before speaking in that wonderfully teasing way of his. “As I said, I’m not ‘that’ good.” He then moves up to sit next to her and sighs. “I’ll double check with the others, though I think if there was someone looking for you, asking around, we’d hear about it. But first, we’re going to go back to the kids and you’re going to tell them you had a bad experience in the city but we’ve sorted it out and you’re okay now. Sounds good?”

Dulsissia nods. “Okay. I can do that.” Her son doesn’t need to worry too.

When they step back into the training room, Dulsissia feels another stab of sharp guilt when she sees Paz ordering Din, Raga and Barthor around the room, doing exercises, but has Corin under his arm in his usual protective mode. Corin, who has his arms around the older boy’s waist in return and looks like he’s been crying earlier.

Dulsissia doesn’t hesitate to head over to them and Corin turns to wrap his arms around her waist instead when she’s close enough and she hugs him tight. “I’m sorry, baby.” She kisses his hair.

“You… you need help with… whatever?” Paz asks, looking anxiously from her to Davarax and back again. The other children stop to stare at them as well.

Smiling, torn between guilt for having caused the boy to worry as well and endlessly charmed by Paz’ very real offer to help despite not having the faintest clue about what is going on, Dulsissia reaches out and cups the side of his face with her hand. (She is definitely charmed by the instant flush it causes.) “That is very kind of you, Paz. Thank you. But me and Davarax worked it out.”

Corin looks up at her with badly hidden hope. “Really?”

“Yeah.” She ruffles Paz’ hair, he ducks away with a faint laugh, and then she focuses on her son again. “Everything is fine.”

“So you’re not leaving?” A voice asks, loud and clear.

Everyone in the room turns in surprise to look at the one who’d spoken: Din. Who rarely speaks above a mumble. He is staring at Dulsissia with agonized worry in his eyes.

“We’re not leaving.” Dulsissia confirms in a calm and reassuring voice, realizing he fears losing his new friend like he had ‘lost’ Davarax. “We’re staying right here with you, Din.”

The boy nods, solemn as usual but now with obvious relief in his dark eyes. Much like the relief on Corin’s face as he smiles up at her. “We’re staying?”

“We’re staying.” Dulsissia combs his hair back with her hands. “Mommy was just being silly.”

And while there is a tiny ball of anxiousness in the pit of her stomach, Dulsissia takes one glance over at Davarax, who gives her a faint nod and she feels her strength and courage return.

She’s not alone. Not any more.

Hiccuping with relief, Corin dares to lets go of her, but just as he’s about to take a step away to rejoin the other children, he hesitates and looks back at her. And while it is so very, very tempting to just wrap her arms around him and hold on tight, the fear of losing him still so vivid in her mind, Dulsissia gives him a nudge.

Corin hesitates once more and then heads over to the other children, who include him like one of them. And that is what he is now, isn’t he? Dulsissia can’t let Macero take that away from him.

She’d panicked up in the city. She can’t afford to panic. Macero is a cold strategist, so she’ll have to become one too.

If he thinks he can take Corin away from her and have her back as the obedient little wife, he’s got a rude awakening coming to him.

A bit like the one Dulsissia gets the next day after walking Corin to training. (It’s difficult to go back to the room instead of hovering in case a battalion of storm troopers appear.) Something vicious snarls behind her just as she’s about to press the button to open the door.

Jumping around with a startled sound, Dulsissia fumbles for the blaster that isn’t in the lining of her pants because she didn’t bring it because she thought she was safe inside the Covert because she’s an idiot and… Oh.

Dulsissia puts on a careful smile and tries to pretend her heart didn’t just jump up into her throat. “Aren’t you supposed to be training with the others?”

Glaring at her with murderous intent through the crazy mane of curly hair, Raga makes another growl. The little girl is just standing there, her hands curled into tight fists and her skinny frame radiates waves of anger so strong it’s a miracle she’s not hovering over the floor.

Clearing her throat, Dulsissia crouches down. “Is there something wrong, Raga?”

At first it doesn’t look like she’s going to say anything, not even a growl, but suddenly the girl shouts at her. “Paz is MY friend, not yours! You don’t get to take him away! He’s mine!”

Dulsissia’s eyebrows makes a valiant effort to reach her hairline. Oh dear. Okay, time for some careful diplomacy here. Like Davarax does. “Raga, sweetie, I’m not trying to take Paz away from you. I promise. And he will never stop being your friend. He cares about you very much.”

The furious eyes flicker a little and Raga’s lower lip trembles a little. “But you’re pretty!” It’s an accusation, not a compliment. “Davarax thinks so too. He watches you all the time. But you don’t get to take Paz away!”

Sighing, Dulsissia tilts her head a little. “Sweetie…” She considers her options and straightens back up. “Why don’t you come in and we can talk a little.”

Raga instantly tenses up with another snarl. Her little shoulders draw up and her feet move into a stance where she can attack or bolt into retreat.

Dulsissia presses the button and the door opens. “You can have some cookies.”

Raga’s shoulders relaxes. “Okay.” And she trudges inside.

Dulsissia wants to help the girl settle on the chair, but a warning snarl makes her keep her hands to herself and she gets a plate of cookies to put on the table.

The girl grabs a handful and shoves them into her mouth, chewing noisily and not very ladylike.

Feeling like she’s defusing a bomb, Dulsissia tries to find some clever way to approach the subject. “I’m not going to take Paz away from you, Raga. I just want to be his friend. And yours.”

She gets an angry eye scowling at her through the mess of curls for her effort.

This is not going to be easy. But surely there must be some way to reach the girl. Something they have in common. Dulsissia makes another effort at a smile and gestures towards her. “You have such lovely hair.”

Raga pauses in her chewing, scans her warily before she mutters; “My mom wants me to cut it. I don’t want to.”

“Then you shouldn’t.” Dulsissia agrees.

Shrugging, Raga plucks at the edge of the table. “It’s not pretty. Like yours.”

“You have beautiful hair.” Dulsissia objects, daring to take a step closer. “I wish I had curls like you.”

That gets her another wary glance, but there is cautious curiosity instead of open hostility now. Raga sits up a little straighter. “Have to cut it when I put the helmet on…”

“Nonsense.” Dulsissia scoffs, gesticulating towards the wild hair. “With some braids, that shouldn’t be a problem.”

Now Raga is actually paying attention and the anger seems forgotten. “Really?” She frowns. “How?”

Dulsissia shrugs. “I could show you…?”

Raga’s eyes narrow for a second or two, then she gives a cautious nod.

It takes a long time untangling the crazy hair, not because it’s awfully tangled or Raga complains, but because Dulsissia is overly cautious about tugging her with the brush and enjoys doing something she actually have the skills to do. A lovely side-effect is how Raga sags more and more in the chair and almost falls asleep under the gentle treatment. There’s not a single growl.

Braiding most of the hair back from the very top to bottom in a simple but lovely pattern, once again taking her time, Dulsissia lets some hair hang free to frame Raga’s face so she can hide if she wants to, but the rest of her thick mane is now held back from obscuring her vision. That should make it easier for her to fight. She steps into the refresher and grabs a mirror so she can show Raga the final result.

“Look at that.” Dulsissia says, feeling no small amount of pride that Raga had trusted her enough to allow this. “Practical, yes? And you look so beautiful.”

Raga struggles against a tiny smile. “Do not.”

“You do.” Dulsissia reaches out and adjusts the braid a little with feigned nonchalance. “And just you wait until Paz sees this. He’s going to be so amazed. You look like such a warrior queen. The Mandalorian who can kick butt ‘and’ have long hair. I bet he’s never seen that before.”

Raga puts the mirror on the table and ducks her head down, now as flustered as the aforementioned Paz had become when Dulsissia kissed his cheek. “M’not pretty.” She mumbles, but she is smiling.

“You are ‘beautiful’.” Dulsissia insists. “Come. Let’s go show the others.” It’s about time she picked up Corin so why not show off her accomplishment too?

She just isn’t prepared for her heart absolutely shattering the moment they step into the hallway and begin to make their way towards the training room and Dulsissia feels Raga’s hand reach over and take a hold of hers.

And luckily, after seeing how excited the girl was to show off her braid, Dulsissia’s predictions were completely accurate. Not only Paz stops what he’s doing, but the three other boys too, and they all flock around her to admire and try to figure out how the braid was made.

“You got to teach me how to do that.” Paz declares, mesmerized.

“I’ll think about it.” Raga snootily replies, slapping Din’s hand away from her hair.

Dulsissia has to bite her lip to keep from laughing. Which is when Davarax sidles up next to her by the doorway where she’s watching the kids.

“Okay,” he says, “show me your hands. Hold them up and let me see them.”

A little confused but mostly amused, Dulsissia holds up her hands and looks over at him. “Why?”

“Because I want to see how many fingers she bit off before you managed to subdue her.” Davarax says, nodding towards Raga.

Laughing and giving him a smack to the stomach, which doesn’t cause him to flinch at all, it’s like slapping a wall, Dulsissia turns her attention back to Raga and feels an intense joy in seeing the smile still on her face. “She’s a sweet girl.”

“Yeah, she is.” Davarax agrees, with no small amount of affection. “But she doesn’t give her trust to just anyone. People have to work for her trust and most adults take offence to that in a child.”

Dulsissia forgets to breathe when he tucks a lock of her hair behind her ear and this time lets his gloved finger trail down the side of her neck as well before his hand just rests on her shoulder.

“If you keep this up, you’re going to end up with every single one of them falling in love with you.” He murmurs.

Dulsissia dares to glance over at him and sees her reflection in his t-visor. Her heart is suddenly racing again but this time not from fear. “I think… I would like that.”

“Yeah?” Davarax asks, his voice low and soft and only meant for her ears. “You wouldn’t mind a big family? Even if they came with their… issues. And were a lot of work.”

“I can’t think of anything I’d want more.” She replies, her voice a little shaky but she means it. “A big family, all that love, why wouldn’t I want that?”

Davarax lets out a soft exhale and he stretches out his finger again, trails it along the collar of her shirt. “I’m starting to think that maybe ‘you’ are a little too good to be true.”

Dulsissia lower her eyelashes and tries for a sneaky smile despite how she can feel her face burning. “Trust me. I’m not ‘that’ good.”

His finger pauses on her skin.

In that moment, it’s like it is just the two of them on the entire planet, but of course that isn’t true and they are sent crashing back to reality at the sound of running feet and Corin’s voice;

“Mommy, can you braid my hair too?”

Davarax yanks his hand away and she turns to her son with a faint laugh. “I’m sorry, baby. I think you may have to grow your hair out a bit for that.”

No storm troopers flood into Nevarro, kicking down doors while looking for her and Corrin. The trooper she had seen must have been from the military base without any connection to Macero. Dulsissia wants to believe she’s safe, but the experience has left her skittish and reluctant to head up into the city again.

At least she can’t cause trouble as long as she stays in the Covert, right? Wrong.

Clearly the training had gone on a little longer than usual because they’re still in the middle of things when Dulsissia enters the room to pick up her son. The sound of the door opening distracts the kids; Paz looks over just as he’s throwing a punch and Din looks over as he side-steps, but Din steps to the wrong side and Dulsissia watches with horror as the punch slams into Din’s face.

Davarax and the other children automatically move over to where Din is squirming on the floor and covering his face with both hands. Dulsissia runs over as well and she’s seeing blood by the time she’s halfway there.

“Easy, take it easy.” Davarax kneels down and helps Din sit up. “Let me see.”

“I didn’t… I didn’t mean to…” Paz makes a half-choked sound when Din lowers his trembling hands and reveals the blood gushing from his nose.

Dulsissia, knowing this was her fault, not his, slides her arm around Paz’ shoulders in a weak offer of comfort and support. He just stares at Din.

“It was an accident, Paz.” Davarax says, cupping Din’s face and gingerly prods the already swelling nose. He then lowers his hands with a sigh. “Yeah, it’s broken.”

Paz makes that sound again and Raga moves over to his other side and takes his hand in hers. Her eyes are big and solemn. Barthor is watching with a blank face. But Corin looks ready to pass out.

“You want me to do it or the medic?” Davarax asks Din.

“You.” Din replies, sounding like his sinuses are severely clogged.

Davarax nods, and if not for the situation being what it is; Dulsissia would have been shocked beyond words at the sight of Davarax pulling off his gloves and revealing his bare hands. Strong, confident hands. That move up to touch Din’s face again, focusing on his nose.

“Okay, you ready?” Davarax asks.

“’eah.” Din mumbles through the blood.

Before Dulsissia can really understand what is going on, Davarax does something, there is a disturbing crunch and then he lowers his hands again. “Done, but you’re going to need some ice on that. Up you go. Come on.”

“I didn’t mean to.” Paz offers a little helplessly. “I thought you were going to dodge. Otherwise I wouldn’t have… so hard…” He’s genuinely distressed. “You… you want to punch me?”

Getting up on shaky legs, once again assisted by Davarax, Din shakes his head with a faint smile. “Stob. S’find. Aggsidendt. Mby fauht too.”

Paz steps forward and reaches out to take a hold of his arm, clearly worried Din will just flop over again. “Ice. We’re getting you ice. Okay. Ice. Yeah. Let’s go.”

Corin looks over at Dulsissia, despair in his eyes, clinging to Din’s other arm. “Mom?”

Dulsissia nods. “It’s okay, Corin. You go with him. Come back after, yeah?”

Paz and Corin hold Din between them, Raga marches ahead to clear a path, while Barthor trails slowly after them. He pauses by the door, looks back at Dulsissia with narrow eyes and then disappears along with the other kids.

Dulsissia looks over at Davarax picking up his gloves and how he wipes the blood off his hands on his clothes. There is that golden skin again. He must look gorgeous under that armor and yet all she can think about is... “That was my fault.”

Davarax shakes his head and there is an amused tone when he speaks. “That was not anybody’s fault. It was an accident. Accidents happen.” The t-visor turns towards her. “They got distracted by the door, true, but do you think the fights out there, in the real world, is contained to quiet rooms with Do Not Disturb signs? No. They need to learn to ignore distractions or pay the price. I don’t think those two boys will make that mistake again, do you?”

Probably not. And it might be lesson that could save their lives later. But still doesn’t feel nice.

Dulsissia distracts herself by looking at Davarax’ hands again. The gloves look worn. “You need new gloves.”

Davarax studies his gloves and shrugs. “They’re good for a little while longer.”

“Would it be better if I got you some new gloves?” She asks.

Davarax lowers his hands and tilts his head a little. “Better? Better than what?”

“When you gave me that blaster, I didn’t understand what that meant.” Dulsissia says. “I realize now that bringing you some stupid cookies wasn’t… right. But I’m not sure if gloves are right either. I mean, Decco said weapons or armor. Do gloves count as armor?”

“What? No. Nono.” Davarax takes a step closer. “The cookies weren’t stupid. Or wrong. I’ve gotten weapons and armor before, but never cookies. Cookies that you made. That was… I liked it.”

Stupidly flattered, Dulsissia lowers her gaze and tries to not act like a twelve year old girl. “So, that’s a ‘no’ on the gloves?”

Davarax leans close and murmurs; “I prefer the cookies.” before he walks over to clean up the blood.

At first she thinks it is just coincidence and bad luck, but on the second day when door after door in the Covert refuses to open for her and no one else is having this problem, Dulsissia starts to wonder if it is something more.

That is confirmed on the day when she steps inside and finds her room filled with countless hairy bugs scuttling over the floor and walls and even the ceiling.

Her screams didn’t just bring Davarax running to the rescue, but also half of the Covert; thinking they were under attack by something horrible.

After that incident, she has little doubt as to who is the evil mastermind behind her recent misfortune. There is only one who could do stuff like this and get away with it.

Knocking on the door, Dulsissia puts on a polite smile and when it opens, she asks the person there; “May I speak with Barthor, please?”

The Mandalorian sighs and leans against the door frame. “What’s that boy done now?” There is dry irritation and resentment in that voice. And for some reason, that annoys Dulsissia.

“Nothing.” She chirps. “I brought him some sweets.” Dulsissia holds up the small packet with sweets she’d brought as bribery. “He’s a friend of my son. In Davarax’ group.”

The Mandalorian straightens and shakes their head with a sigh. “Whatever. He’s in his room.”

They point towards a door and walks off.

Dulsissia scowls at their back. No wonder the boy is pulling pranks to get attention.

Knocking on the door and then pushing the button to open it, Dulsissia steps into what is a small but extremely tidy room.

Barthor is sitting on his bed, reading, and the second he sees her; he jumps off the bed to land on the other side and just about cowers there. “You can’t prove anything!”

“Oh, I am aware of that.” Dulsissia says. “Davarax said you were incredibly clever, so I know you know how to cover your tracks. I’m not here to get you into trouble.”

He peers suspiciously at her. “Why are you here?”

“May I sit?” She points at the bed as there are no chairs or any other option in the room. When he just keeps glaring at her, Dulsissia sits down on the bed anyway and starts opening the packet. “I’m here because I wanted to talk to you. I’m hoping we can be friends.”

“Friends.” Barthor sneers, still in hiding. “You don’t want to be my friend.”

“I do.” Dulsissia says, putting a sweet in her mouth before holding the box out towards him and offering him some. She suspects he’d never eat anything he didn’t see her eat first after what he’s done to her. And after a little scowling, he reaches out and takes a sweet. “I just need to know why you’re so angry with me. Did I do something to upset you, Barthor? Do you mind telling me what that was?”

Barthor keeps glaring at her, but she can see the clever mind working and looking for whatever motive she has for doing this. Eventually he straightens up and goes from scowling to defiant glaring. “I don’t want you to take Davarax away.”

Dulsissia shakes her head. “I’m not taking him away.”

“Yes, you are.” Barthor states, calm but definitely angry. “In the past, I could always go to him if I had questions or needed help.”

“You can still do that.” Dulsissia claims.

“When I needed his help on my project, guess where he was.” Barthor dares her.

She shakes her head, having no clue.

“He was out picking flowers.” Barthor throws his arms out in clear disbelief. “Flowers! Stupid, pointless flowers.” He sets his angry glare in her again. “And I’ve seen the way he looks at you and you look at him. You’re not even a Mandalorian!”

Dulsissia swallows down the urge to snap back at the boy. “Here’s the thing, Barthor; Davarax has the right to have a personal life too. He lives and breathes for you children, he really does, but he also likes me. And I like him. That’s not going to stop just because you are mean to me. You know that. The only thing you can achieve is make me upset and disappoint Davarax, and I doubt the latter is something you want.”

For the first time, Barthor lowers his gaze. His shoulders slump slightly.

“How about a deal?” Dulsissia suggests.

The boy looks up at her again.

“How about, instead of you being mean and me supposedly taking Davarax away, we become friends and we all spend time together?”

Barthor scoffs with so much scorn and conviction it hurts. “You’re just saying that. You don’t want to spend time with me. No one does.”

Dulsissia purses her lips thoughtfully. Challenge accepted.

Davarax looks a little confused when she shows up that evening at his door and hands him a written invitation to dinner the next day. He looks at the card and then her and shifts a little uneasily. “I, uh, would love to, but…”

“Oh, I know you can’t actually eat,” Dulsissia waves a dismissive hand at him, “I just need you to be there.”

Davarax looks at the card again and gives a slow nod. “O-kay….?”

“Excellent!” And with that, she darts back to her own room. She’d handed cards to Corin and Din to deliver at Paz’, Raga’s and Barthor’s residences too.

There’s not much Dulsissia Motti knows how to do, but she knows how to throw a dinner!

The resources are limited, the dining area even more so, but Dulsissia makes the best out of it and she has two excellent helpers in Corin and Din.

Poor Din, with his still colourful and sore nose, spends more time at her place than he does his own home and Dulsissia has grown quite used to having the quiet boy underfoot by now. He doesn’t say much, but he doesn’t mind hard work and he hasn’t run off with Corin again.

When the day comes, Dulsissia is a bit nervous, which is hilarious. She has thrown dinners and parties for men who ruled half of the Galaxy and she never broke a sweat doing so, but these children and that man, their approval means everything to her.

The first of the other children to arrive is Paz. He’s early and hangs out in the kitchen with her, interfering with her cooking until she slaps him over the fingers and he instructs her to avoid certain spices (Barthor is allergic.), not to place those vegetables on Raga’s plate (She doesn’t like them.), and that Din loves an obscene amount of salt on his food. (The weirdo.) Dulsissia tries to ask him if he doesn’t rather want to play with Corin and Din, but Paz shakes his head and inspects the boiling pot like a security guard.

However, when Raga stomps into the room, she drags Paz away and they huddle together next to the other two to talk quietly while Dulsissia sets the table.

Usually Corin and Din help her with this, but today she has informed them they are all entirely off kitchen duty.

Today is her gift to all of them.

Davarax is next to appear and he is visibly surprised when he steps into the room and the children all jump up to run over and greet him. Handing out hair ruffles and playful nudges, Davarax sneaks a glance over at her as Dulsissia puts some flowers on the dining table. She gives him a smile.

(Dulsissia has had to rearrange the room, pushing the beds over to one side, borrow a table and chairs, but they will all fit at least.)

Davarax also offers to help her, but she gives him firm orders to go play with the children.

(She does not blush at his faint snort of laughter or the brief touch of his hand to her hip. Nope. Okay, maybe a little.)

When the food is ready and on the table, on time, Dulsissia takes her seat and watches the others choose their own seating. On her right sits Davarax, on her left is Corin and next to him, Din. At the opposite side of the table of Din, there sits Raga, who of course has Paz next to her. But the chair next to him is empty.

Dulsissia feels a tiny stab of disappointment.

She’d known there was no guarantee that Barthor would show up but she’d hoped…

“Okay, everyone,” Dulsissia chirps, determined to make the meal memorable for the others at least, vowing to find some other way to convince Barthor he is welcome, “let’s-”

There is a knock on the door.

Davarax gets up and walks over to open it.

It’s Barthor. He looks tense and wary, but Davarax pretends not to notice and merely ushers him inside. “We were waiting for you. Come on. There’s your seat. Hop to it.”

Dulsissia can’t stop smiling. She beams at Barthor, who greets her with a tiny nod, no scowling, and finally things feel right. Everyone is there.

The children chatter, bicker and eat. Corin laughs at something Din said to Paz.

Paz, who completely ignores the fact that Raga is eating off his plate and merely reaches over to slap Barthor’s shoulder to inform him that he’ll make him run twenty laps during training tomorrow if he doesn’t make a stink-bomb that Paz can plant under Din’s bed.

“No stink-bombs.” Davarax orders, pointing from Barthor to Paz and back again.

Barthor shrugs and focuses on his food. “I wouldn’t know how to make one anyway.” But the smile on his face says otherwise and Paz cackles with glee.

Davarax tells tales from his travels and answers their questions with never-ending patience as usual. Dulsissia makes sure everyone is tended to, takes care to talk to each of them, delights in watching them squirm under compliments as well as some gentle teasing. Even Barthor.

It’s perfect.

This… This is what Dulsissia has always been missing in her own life.

This is what she had been craving, even as a little girl and had no idea what she was aching for while she was surrounded by endless wealth and loneliness. This is what she thought she could have when she got married and didn’t. This is what she wants for her son.

Yeah, this definitely feels right.

This feels like… family.

#the mandalorian his son and the storm trooper #Dulsissia Motti #Davarax #Baby Corin #Fearsome Four #Mandorin AU

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sulphuryasecretcloset · 3 years ago

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Dez is fine

I am so violently in love with this gorgeous drawing of What-If Dez! Endless gratitude to BrazenBastard on AO3, and I do hope the What-If readers could swing by and leave kudos, maybe even a comment, on this beauty!

And because I was so inspired, of course I have to add a one-shot as well with our dear Dez struggling with his past, becoming a better man and father, and having to deal with Dulcy’s sharp eye as well as Davarax’ friendship ;)

Dez is fine.

“You lost?” Borr Vizla’s voice is as hard as his armour. “You’re a Vizla. We don’t lose fights!”

“There was three of them.” Dez counters angrily. “How was I supposed to win, fighting against three idiots by myself?”

Towering over his son, Borr’s eyes flare with anger. His fist shoots towards Dez’ face.

Flinching away, Dez wakes up with a sharp breath, propping himself up on his elbows. Half-forgotten fear scrambles around inside his head like a trapped bird trying to flee from danger.

“Dez?” Neleem mumbles, torn awake as well. She’s facing away so she rolls over on her back to squint at him. “What’s wrong?”

Breathing hard, cold sweat shining on his face and his heart racing like crazy, Dez swallows and blinks the nightmare away. “Go back to sleep.”

Grunting annoyed at his answer, Neleem moves over to snuggle against him. She slides her arm over his stomach in a comforting and grounding gesture. “Bad dreams?”

Dez sinks back down and lets out a controlled exhale. He runs a hand over his face while he automatically places his other arm around her. “I ate too much spicy food last night. Always messes with me. Go back to sleep.”

Resting her head on his chest, Neleem hums with sleepy concern. “You sure?”

“I’m sure.” Dez replies. He can already feel his heart calming down and his breathing evening out. Just a dream. Just a stupid, harmless dream. Borr has been dead for decades. And Dez is almost sorry that Borr is marching far away, because he’d love for his father to try to put his hands on him now. Dez viciously HATES how that man had made him feel small, helpless and pathetically scared again just by appearing in a dream.

Yet, it’s a bit weird that he’d dream about his father after so many years of not bothering to spare him a single thought. Why would he dream about him now? Dez has always been very skilled at blocking out people he doesn’t want to think about. His father. His brother. His sister. His former wife.

Is it because of the changes he’s trying to make for his son’s sake and how that has prodded at the past? Could that be why Borr decided to suddenly haunt him?

“Dez?” Neleem says, drawing out his name in a lazy drawl.

“Mmh?” Dez stares at the wall, still pondering why his brain had betrayed him in this manner.

“Don’t start something you’re not going to finish.”

It takes a couple of seconds for the words to seep through his busy mind and when they do, they make no sense to him. Dez blinks, frowns and then glances down to find Neleem looking up at him with a wry smile on her face.

What is she…? Oh.

Dez has been absently running his fingers up and down her right lekku, trailing fingertips over her extremely sensitive skin. He stops. “Sorry.”

Neleem’s full lips tug at a smile. “It’s fine. I was just joking.”

Dez watches as she settles on his chest again with that soft smile still on her lovely face and he decides that he really, really doesn’t want to think any more about his stupid dream.

He very purposefully and deliberately trails his fingers down her lekku again.

Neleem lets out another drowsy hum and her hand slides up his chest. “What happened to ‘go back to sleep’?”

Dez feigns innocence while he continues to caress her. “You want to sleep?” His fingers trail all the way up to the top of her montral before sliding back down again. “We can go back to sleep.”

Abruptly climbing on top of him, Neleem leans in so close her lips brush against his when she speaks. “Now that you’ve started this, you better finish it, boy.”

Dez swallows as he feels molten heat spread through his veins and his ability to think disappears.

Neleem smiles again and gives him a soft, slow, beginning kiss...

Half an eternity later, Dez is all sated exhaustion instead of tense unease, and he effortlessly follows Neleem into a deep and dreamless sleep that lasts for the rest of the night. Sweet bliss.

If only his brain hadn’t managed to recover the next day and then make things a lot worse.

It happens during breakfast with almost everyone chattering away and being obnoxiously cheerful. Dez glances over at Paz and grins a little at the sight of his son sticking out by being as grumpy as usual during the early hours. Dez’ smile lasts until an absolutely horrible thought hits him; Had Paz had nightmares about him? What if he haunts his son like Borr did to him?

The idea hits him harder than most of the physical injuries he’d received throughout his lifetime. But unlike those wounds, this doesn’t heal in the time that follows. It lingers and festers and refuses to go away. Days later, Dez still can’t stop thinking about it.

Paz doesn’t act like he’s scared of him. He rarely did even when he clearly was. He had covered it up with indifference and sullen glares, which there are no sign of these days, but… what if?

There are a million things for Dez to think about right now, important things, rather than to mull over some possibility that his son had nightmares because of him. He’s trying to set up a new Tribe, for kark’s sake. He needs to focus on that! His people need him. His son appears to be fine. Everything is fine. Leave it alone. Forget about it.

And still… Two weeks after the random nightmare, despite no more appearances of Borr in the following nights, Dez stands by the window and watches Paz and the others train outside and he finds himself wondering yet again. He can’t stop. It’s like having a split lip and being unable to stop poking his tongue at it. It hurts, it's pointless, and yet he keeps doing it.

“What’s troubling you, Dez?”

Dez' unease doubles as the voice belongs to the blonde schemer. Dulcy is standing next to him, watching him, and her eyes are scarily alert.

“Nothing.” Dez mumbles warily, hoping he can fool her for once.

“Liar.” Dulcy states.

Irritation verging on loud anger rushes through Dez and he snaps a glare over at her. How dare she? “You know Mandalorians have duelled to the death over a lesser offence than being called a liar?”

Dulcy shrugs, frustratingly unafraid. “But I’m right. You’re lying.”

“How would you-”

She doesn’t wait for him to finish his angry sentence. Dulcy merely reaches out and taps a gentle finger on the hand he has pressing lightly against his stomach. “Haven’t seen you do that in a while. You stopped when your body started getting better, so something is clearly bothering you.”

Dez yanks his hand down by his side. So what if his stomach is a little achy? And the nausea could be a coincidence. It’s just acting up again a tiny bit, it’s nowhere near as bad as it used to be. He doesn’t even have a headache. “It’s nothing.”

Dulcy nods, studies him and then makes things ten times worse by asking; “Would you rather talk to Dav? Would that be easier for you? I know we’re not close, Dez, I understand if you’d rather confide in him.”

“No!” Dez blurts out, even takes a step closer to her in case she decides to try to run off and fetch Davarax. “No, you can’t tell him.” The idea of Davarax finding out that Dez is this weak, no, he’d never be able to face Beskar Boy in all of his perfection ever again. The humiliation would kill Dez, not his bleeding gut. Desperation drives him to grit out the word he only uses when there is no other option; “Please?”

Surprised, Dulcy blinks and looks at him with even more concern in her eyes. She visibly searches for some way to help the man she’d resented (Possibly still does?) for so many years. “Does Neleem know?”

Dez shifts his weight uneasily, not quite sure how to make Dulcy keep quiet without turning to old tricks of threats and posturing. “I don’t want her to worry. It’s not that serious.”

His words makes Dulcy sigh with heavy resignation for some reason. “Dez… You can’t keep this a secret from her. If you want things to work between you two, you need to tell Neleem. You can trust her, you know?”

“Of course I trust her.” Dez snaps, offended that Dulcy would think otherwise. He just doesn’t want Neleem to see him weakened like this. He is a Vizla. He wants her to be proud of him, proud to be with him, not have to worry over him like he’s a helpless and pathetic loser.

“Then tell her.” Dulcy says, evil that she is.

“How about you mind your own business?” Dez snarls, feeling cornered and not liking it.

“I would if you were able to look after yourself.” Dulcy counters with a touch of irritation. “In case you have forgotten, you have people who care about you and we would be very upset if you were to keel over and die, so I’m trying to keep you alive. Di’kut!”

Dez is the one to blink with surprise this time. Only the blonde terror would be able to insult him and have his heart clench with gratitude at the same time. Maybe she really is a Jedi witch.

“Tell me what’s bothering you?” Dulcy asks, a little softer now.

Dez hesitates. But then he hears Raga laughing and Din shouting something which has Paz laughing, and that makes his stomach ache again. “I just…”

Dulcy once again defies all logic and tradition of treating Vizlas like deities and simply takes a hold of Dez’ hand, giving it a gentle squeeze to encourage him to continue.

A huge part of Dez is screaming for him to shut up, but keeping quiet hasn’t really helped in the past, has it? He clears his throat. “Do you know if, uh, if Paz has had any bad dreams? I mean, is that a thing that bothers him?”

The question seems to confuse Dulcy. She frowns as she either thinks back on her time with Paz or wonders if Dez has completely lost his mind. “No…” Dulcy sounds a little uncertain. “No, can’t say I’ve noticed that he has struggled with nightmares. Not during these last couple of years, at least. What happened before then, I can’t say. Why?”

Dez shrugs. How can he explain without revealing his own embarrassing dream?

“Are you having trouble with nightmares, Dez?” Dulcy asks, in that horribly kind way of hers.

Startled, Dez flicks his gaze over at her like a guilty child. “No.” She must be a Jedi witch. Dulcy nods. “I’ll take that as a ‘yes’.” She squeezes his hand again. “There is no shame in that.”

Of course there is! Dez feels hot fury flaring up his neck and it takes a lot of effort to keep angry words from flying from his lips. He clenches his jaw hard and forces himself silent.

“What are your nightmares about?” Dulcy must have zero survival instincts to ignore the anger radiating off him. “Can you remember?”

Dez wants to snarl for her to mind her own business again, but instead hears with no small amount of shock his own voice answering her question. “My father.” With the secret out, he scrambles to do damage control. “But only once. It’s not like I dream about him all the time. I don’t dream much at all, really. It was just this one dream.”

“I suspect it wasn’t a pleasant dream.” Dulcy says quietly, looking down at his big hand in hers and she even reaches over with her other hand to fully cover his with both of hers. “Dav said you had a lot of injuries when you were a child. I’m not surprised dreaming about your father upset you.”

Dez feels so tense he could explode. He doesn’t want to talk about this. He wants to leave. All he has to do is yank his hand free and walk away. So why doesn’t he? “I never hurt Paz like that. Never.” It’s important to Dez that she knows this. He's done countless mistakes, but he has never once put his hands on his son in anger.

Dulcy nods. “I know.”

“But…” Dez adds, hesitating. “But I did hurt him. With words. And…”

“And you’re worried he’s had nightmares about you.” Dulcy puts it together like it makes sense. Definitely a Jedi witch.

“I’m not… worried.” Dez lies, beyond uncomfortable now. “I was just wondering. Making sure. In case. You know.” He shrugs and discretely pulls his hand a little to hint at her to let go.

She doesn’t. Dulcy pets his hand instead. “Listen, I think Paz is doing fine.” She sends him a cautious look. “I’m not going to lie to you, Dez. A lot of the credit for that goes to Davarax.”

Dez clenches his jaw, hating to hear it yet knows it is true. “Him and you, I suspect.”

“Maybe.” Dulcy concedes. “But the point I’m trying to get at is; he’s doing fine. And you can’t change the past. You need to focus on the present and don’t give him any reason to ‘start’ having nightmares about you. Yes?”

Dez manages a curt nod. He’s trying to be better. He really is trying.

Dulcy pets his hand a final time before she blessedly lets go at last and starts backing up towards one of the two exit doors there. “I’ll do some snooping just to be sure, but while I do that, you need to tell Neleem about not feeling well. Deal?”

“I will.” Dez mumbles. He doesn’t want Neleem to think he’s weak, but if he says nothing and the gut ache get worse and she finds out… He can’t risk that. He can’t risk losing her trust as losing that would mean he’d lose her.

It’s difficult to find the line between staying strong, as a Mandalorian should, and be guilty of keeping secrets from Neleem, which he has promised never to do. Dez knows this gut ache is just a reaction to him mulling over his dream, it will ease up and go away, there is no need for her to worry like she’s bound to do, but he did give his word that he wouldn’t keep things from her.

Dez tells Neleem.

“Sit.” Neleem points at the bed. “Shirt off.”

Sighing, Dez does as he’s told. So much for Dez Vizla not taking orders from anyone. He absently folds his shirt and places it on the mattress next to where he’s sitting while she’s digging out the medical scanner from her bag. “It’s not that bad. I’m telling you, it’s just a little ache.”

“Mhm.” Neleem replies a little absently, focused on bringing the scanner online and finding out for herself.

“Neleem, sweetheart, cyare, light of my life, I’m fine.” Dez insists. When that gets no reaction, she just keeps fidgeting with the scanner with deadly determination, he sighs again. “I only told you because I promised to not keep stuff like this from you. Okay? That’s all. Not because I’m dying.”

That finally gets her attention and she looks over at him.

Dez meant to keep arguing that he’s fine, but something about the way she looks at him makes him forget how to use words. She looks at him with… love. Happy, pained and deep-rooted love.

“Thank you.” Neleem says, her simple words carrying the weight of an entire planet. She even smiles a little, again a mix of pain and happiness. “For telling me. For trusting me.”

Stunned, Dez can only nod.

“I noticed you’d gone quiet and a bit distant lately…” Neleem confesses, walking over to him. She’s back to staring at the medical scanner, but Dez suspects it is just to avoid having to meet his eyes. “I didn’t want to push. I hoped you would tell me what was wrong in your own time, but…” She comes to a halt in front of him where she tries and fails at a second smile. “But I wasn’t sure if you would.”

“Neleem, I…”

“It’s not meant as a dig at you, Dez. I know you don’t trust easily and I understand why.” Neleem finally looks at him again while she reaches out a hand and gently cups the side of his face. “I just wanted to tell you how much I appreciate this. It means a lot to me.”

Dez doesn’t know what to say. Hell, he doesn’t even know what he’s feeling, it’s a jumbled mess spinning around inside him. He’s not used to feeling anything but anger and weariness.

Clearly sensing his turmoil, Neleem draws a soothing thumb along his cheekbone before withdrawing her touch and focusing on the scanner again to give him a chance to find his balance. “Okay, let’s do this. Sit still.”

Dez sits, obedient like a young student, and tries to regain his senses.

Moments later, the medical scanner beeps and Neleem frowns down at the results. “Well…” She sighs, pressing a button. “It’s not as bad as it was, but at the same time; not as good as I’d like it to be. We’re going to have to find some way for you to relax a bit.”

“I…” Dez’s voice fails and he has to clear his throat to try again. “I had a dream. About my father.” He shifts his weight uneasily, half-regretting saying anything at all. “And I… I just started thinking about… What if Paz has the same problem. Not with my father, but with me. I told Paz I was sorry, but that doesn’t undo my earlier words. Stuff like that, I bet it can bring bad dreams too.”

Neleem stares at him.

Dez quickly avoids her gaze, looks at the floor instead. “It’s stupid. I know. Nevermind.”

“No.” Neleem says, her voice strained. “No, it’s not stupid. You're right; stuff like that can bring bad dreams too. I just love you so much for realizing that. You've come so far.”

Okay, that Dez did not expect. She sounds... proud of him? When is this woman going to stop confusing him? His father, his siblings, even Skade, kept correcting Dez' weakness, made him stronger, but Neleem acts like his flaws are... good? And she loves him. “I'm trying to be better. I really am. If I could take back what I did, I would. But I can't. And I don't know how to help him.”

“Show him, every single day, that you are not that person any more, keep telling him you are sorry, and give him all the time and space he needs.” Neleem says, sitting down next to Dez.

Dez nods. Oh, how much easier it would have been if he could fix things by fighting someone.

Neleem loops her arm with his and rests her head on his shoulder. “It's not easy, Dez. I know. Change never is. But you are not alone. We're all on your side. Paz too.”

Dez sighs and leans his head on top of hers.

“Especially Davarax.” Neleem adds, with a touch of evil.

Lifting his head and sitting up straight, Dez grunts. “You just had to ruin the moment, didn't you?”

Giggling, Neleem stretches up to place a kiss on his cheek. “I'll tell him to keep an eye on you, so we know for sure that stomach of yours doesn't act up again.” “Don't you dare.” Dez growls.

She dares.

Which is why he ends up baring his teeth in a mute warning to the fussing Davarax after he had spotted Dez trying to discretely spy on Paz in the backyard as he and the other youngsters go through one of the many training sessions Davarax has set up for the week. If Davarax touches his stomach one more time, that would make it three times this week, Dez swears by the Dark Saber he 'will' bite him.

Sensing the danger, Davarax hesitates. “Hey, is that some way to treat your best buddy?”

“We are NOT buddies.” Dez snarls.

“No, I know.” Davarax replies, clearly having a moment of intelligence. “We are BEST buddies.” Never mind. “I just want to know how that tumtum is doing.” That kind of language? Davarax is doing his very best to annoy him. And he's succeeding.

Dez is seriously considering punching him in the face when he's distracted by Dulcy appearing from behind the house. She brightens at the sight of them, as if she'd been looking for them, and she deliberately meets and holds Dez gaze so she can give him a soft smile and a slight shake of her head.

No nightmares. Dez instantly knows the meaning of her gesture. Paz is not haunted by nightmares about him. The intensity of his relief floods his brain entirely, making him forget all about dignity and pride, so when Davarax playfully tugs him close, Dez automatically wraps his arms around him in gratitude and hugs Davarax tight. Just for a moment. Then he realizes what he's doing, that Davarax is completely frozen, and Dulcy is watching them...

Dez abruptly shoves Davarax away with quite a considerable amount of strength and storms off to run inside the house and definitely not hide. His face is not burning. No. That did not just happen. It didn't. He did not just do that. No. He's fine. Everything is just fine.

And yet, amidst the embarrassment he's not feeling in regards to the thing that definitely did not just happen, Dez' heart thumps with joy as it cradles the fact that he's not a source of nightmares for his son. There is hope.

#the mandalorian his son and the storm trooper #what if au #Dez Vizla #Davarax #Dulsissia Motti #Dulcy #Neleem #the one shots start coming and they don't stop coming

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sulphuryasecretcloset · 4 years ago

Text

What if...

For the record, I blame @phrenic-a and @mountevey for this one... I, uh, think maybe three parts? Four? And just posting it here, not on AO3, as I DON’T DO AUS! ...except for this one, it seems. *sigh*

What if Dulsissia hadn’t died, what if she had grabbed Corin and fled? What if she met Davarax? What if...

Part 1

Rated T for a slight touch of gloom before the fluff can start

It has been three months since they left Seswenna. Three months since she told Macero she was bringing Corin along to scout for some new outfits and her husband barely bothering to pay attention to the end of the sentence.

They couldn’t stay on Seswenna any longer. Corin is turning five soon and Macero had been hinting heavily at how was time for the boy to start his training and that it was way overdue for her to produce another child. Macero has plans and a schedule to keep.

But as neither scenario was an option for Dulsissia, she found a ship going to the most distant, dark corner of the Galaxy, scraped together some credits that Macero didn’t know about and bought two tickets.

She and Corin left that very day.

As there was no way for her to bring lots of credits without alerting Macero, Dulsissia brought as much jewellery as she dared, hoping that would be enough to last them a good while, but she had no idea that decent living quarters, servants and proper food were so expensive. And while she’d been aware of that she’d have to find some way to earn a living for her and her son, Dulsissia quickly learned that none of her skills were something that someone one this foreign, gritty and vulgar planet were willing to pay for. Here credits went to food and booze, not fashion and beauty. Here there was nothing but concrete on the ground and thick, suffocating smoke in the sky.

It hadn’t taken long before they were running out of funds and this is why they now no longer have a roof over their heads and why the food has been so scarce the last couple of days.

Her sweet, sweet boy has been so good these months. Hardly asking any questions, never complaining, simply following her like a baby-Porg with blind trust and love. Dulsissia’s heart is breaking over the fact that she’s going to fail him.

They can’t go on like this. She refuses to let him starve. They will go back and she will face Macero’s wrath before she lets her child end up like one of the unfortunate souls they see scuttling around in the alleyways here.

Lost in her misery, she doesn’t notice the danger until it is too late. An arm goes around her waist and she’s yanked away from her son. Corin calls out for her, his thin voice filled with panic, but she can’t reply as a dirty hand covers her mouth and she is fighting to free herself.

It’s a human man drawling all kinds of horrible things into her ear, clearly drunk and unwilling to pay for female company. A second voice joins in. Two of them.

Dulsissia panics, just like her son, but no matter how she fights; they are too strong and she can’t break free.

The sound of a blaster being fired is frightfully loud, but as the man lets go of Dulsissia; she’s too busy breaking free and running forward to drop to her knees and cradle Corin protectively against herself to care. The boy clings to her with desperation.

A second shot. Someone nearby falls to the ground. Dulsissia tries to cover Corin’s ears and closes her eyes while hot tears trail down her face.

She never should have left. She should have found a different way. She should have never brought Corin here. Even Macero was better than this. She would have found a way to shield Corin from his wrath. She never should have left…

“Are you two okay?” A slightly robotic voice asks.

Tensing up, Dulsissia hesitates, wondering what new horror will follow what she’s just been through, then slowly looks up at the towering shape standing there.

It is a humanoid looking being, but it is wearing blue armor and a blue helmet concealing their face. They holster a massive blaster and the helmet tilts a little in what could almost look like concern.

Dulsissia nods. She keeps Corin close, shielded from the stranger. “Thank you.” She says in a half-whisper as her throat hurts from trying to scream earlier. She hopes good manners might keep the stranger, who looks like a male, in a benign mood and that he’d not simply take over where the others had left off.

“This area is not safe. Where are you going?” The stranger asks.

Dulsissia hesitates, reluctant to tell him anything but scared she might provoke him if she doesn’t. She’s very aware of the two bodies still twitching on the ground. She says the first thing that comes to her mind. “The marked.”

A moment of silence, then the helmet nods. “I’ll escort you two there.”

There is another jab of reluctance, but Dulsissia doesn’t dare decline. Also, if they are around others, he might not dare to do anything… unseemly. She slowly straightens, keeping one hand on Corin’s head as he shifts to cling to her leg instead of her torso. “That would be very kind of you.”

The stranger turns and takes a couple of steps before he stops and looks back at her.

Dulsissia takes a deep breath, strokes Corin’s hair and then the two follow this armored stranger.

Their mysterious saviour doesn’t speak again until he comes to a halt at the outskirts of the busy marketplace filled with all kinds of shouting merchants and odd smells. “Will you be okay here?”

Dulsissia nods again, eager to be rid of him.

“Mommy…” Corin tugs at her skirts. “I’m hungry…”

“I know, baby.” Dulsissia replies, stroking his hair and feeling the urge to cry again. She wants to crouch down, look him in the eyes and explain things, but she doesn’t dare take her eyes of the stranger.

He’s looking at Corin.

“Can we eat here, Mommy?” Corin asks with hope in his voice.

“Later, baby.” Dulsissia replies and hopes with all her heart that she isn’t lying.

The helmet shifts its attention up to her, the t-shaped visor feels like it is burrowing under her skin, and the stranger stares at her for several long seconds. “Let me buy you some food.”

Dulsissia swallows hard. “That is very kind of you, but you’ve already done enough…”

A glance down at Corin again and then back at her, and the stranger nods towards the food stalls. “Come. The boy can choose. Anything he wants.”

Corin tugs eagerly at her skirt and she dares a glance down at her son. His eyes are filled with excitement instead of worries for the first time since they’d been forced to leave their apartment. His little face is dirty, she notes with a jab of disappointment in herself. Forcing herself to smile, she nods to Corin and makes herself look at the stranger’s visor. “If you insist.”

The stranger gestures for them to take the lead and they do.

Not long after that, they are seated by a table, Dulsissia and Corin on one side, the stranger sitting at the opposite side, and the boy is inhaling the huge plate of deep fried ‘something’ in front of him. Dulsissia uses the opportunity to wipe off some of the dirt on Corin’s face before shifting more food from her plate over to his.

The silent stranger watches her and while she can’t see his eyes, she can feel them. Strangely enough it doesn’t feel like he’s ogling her like those men had. Dulsissia gets the feeling that he’s trying to figure her out. Like she’s some puzzle to him.

Like he wasn’t the mysterious one? Appearing out of the shadows to save her from horrors? Offering to buy food for her child? Declining to get anything to eat for himself but insisting she get food too.

Dulsissia looks directly at his visor, sees the helmet move a little as he shifts his gaze away, if she didn’t know better she’d say a little embarrassed after getting caught looking at her. “What is your name?” She asks.

“I’m Davarax.” He replies. “May I ask for yours?”

“Dul-” Oh, old habit, she wasn’t supposed to use her real name, “-cy. I’m Dulcy. And this..” Dulsissia places her hand on Corin’s head to introduce him, but the boy beats her to it.

“I’m Corin!” He grins, mouth filled with food.

Dulsissia closes her eyes for a second. So much for not using their real names. She glues on a smile and looks over at Davarax again. “Dulcy and Corin.”

“Why are you wearing a helmet?” Corin asks and she prods his shoulder, reminding him not to speak with his mouth full and to stop asking questions. He closes his mouth and chews.

“I am a Mandalorian.” Davarax replies, as if he didn’t mind answering. (Macero would always get annoyed when Corin asked about anything.) “My Creed tells me to always wear it.”

“Always?” Corin’s eyes go huge again. “How do you eat?”

Davarax exhales what sounds like a little laugh. “I can take it off when I’m alone.”

Dulsissia frowns a little. She’s heard about Mandalorians, has she not? Mercenaries? It would certainly explain why he was so efficient in shooting those two men and seem completely unfazed by the situation. It would also explain why he’s so… muscular.

“My turn to ask a question.” Davarax says and turns his attention to her. “Do you have a weapon?”

Suddenly all the anxiousness that had been starting to seep away rushes back into her and Dulsissia tenses up. She tries to keep a blank expression. She shakes her head.

Sighing, Davarax nods. “Thought as much.” He reaches down his side. “On this planet, looking like you do and with a kid to keep safe, you’re going to need a weapon to protect yourself and him with.” Pulling up a fierce looking vibro-blade, Davarax doesn’t activate it, merely flips it over to hold the blade while offering her the hilt. “Here. Take it.”

She hesitates, but eventually Dulsissia cautiously reaches out and takes the weapon. It feels cold and heavy in her hand. For the third time in a short time, Corin’s eyes grow huge.

“Don’t hesitate.” Davarax tells her. “If someone comes after you, deal with them. Swift and hard. No regret. Understand?”

Looking from the blade and over to him, to the emotionless t-visor, Dulsissia manages a faint nod.

It’s the first time she’s ever held a weapon of any kind. Not counting cutlery. Or gossip. An actual weapon. And she’s not entirely sure she likes the feeling. It’s intimidating.

But she pulls the blade close and decides to keep it. While she might not like the feel of a weapon, she will use it to protect her son. That’s not even a hard choice to make. “Thank you.”

Davarax nods, pleased at her accepting it.

“Why are you helping us?” Dulsissia asks, shame burning in her cheeks at having to accept pity from strangers.

“Because you needed help.” Davarax replies. “Because no real Mandalorian will turn their back on a child in distress.”

Suddenly curious, Dulsissia asks before she can stop herself. “Do you have children?”

“Four. Four amazing little ones.” Davarax replies with badly hidden pride. His shoulders even pull back a little in a preening move that he’s definitely not aware of as he follows it up with an awkward shrug right after. “I mean… Technically they’re not mine. I’m their teacher.”

Dulsissia can’t help but to smile, charmed by his reply, and she remembers how she’d wished her tutor had been her real father. “Lucky them.”

Davarax shrugs again and to her amusement, the mighty warrior does appear a little awkward. He probably did not mean to reveal so much about himself. She hides a smile by daintily picking up a piece of food and nibbling on it while moving the rest over onto Corin’s plate.

“Should I get some more?” Davarax asks. “You should eat some too, you know.”

Dulsissia shakes her head, despite the hunger gnawing in her belly. As long as her son is full, she’s fine. And while Davarax did not hesitate to buy whatever food Corin had pointed at and has given her what looks to be a valuable vibroblade, she’s not blind to the worn down look of his armor and clothing. He might be generous, but he’s not rich.

After stuffing himself beyond what he probably should by cleaning the plate yet again, Corin makes a faint sound of pain and moves over to lean against her. “My tummy aches….”

“I’m not surprised,” Dulsissia replies with a smile, leaning down and kissing his hair, “you ate like a Rancor.”

Corin laughs a little but remains leaning against her and it doesn’t take long before he’s drowsing.

Sighing, Dulsissia strokes his dark hair and feels the guilt suffocating her again. Her poor boy is finally full, but now the exhaustion from barely any sleep over these last couple of nights is setting in and she needs to find out where to seek shelter for the night without any credits to pay for it.

Either Davarax reads her mind or he just picks up on Corin’s exhaustion, but he once again looks at the boy and then her and asks his question. “Where are you staying tonight?”

Dulssisia clenches her jaw and looks away. The humiliation burns.

A second pass, then two, and finally it seems like he understands. “Oh.” Silence follows and if not for how Corin is more of less asleep on her arm, Dulsissia would have walked away.

“Listen,” Davarax says, shifting his weight a little, “don’t take this the wrong way, but you two could join me in my room. This place is even less safe at night.” He shrugs one shoulder. “I would rent you your own room, but, well, they’re really-”

“Expensive, I know.” Dulsissia cuts him off. Her face is burning even hotter now, both with the continued humiliation of being broke and what sharing a room with a strange man might include.

“I give you my word you’ll be safe.” Davarax says with firm conviction. “Both of you.”

Dulsissia knows she shouldn’t. She knows it could be a trap. But she also knows she needs to find a place her son can sleep without fear or danger hanging over his head. “Tell me the names of your children.” She asks.

“Paz, Barthor, Raga and little Din.” Davarax replies no hesitation, but with a touch of confusion. “Why?”

Dulsissia smiles and shakes her head. “No reason. Just curious.” So he wasn’t lying about the children. He knew their names by heart. A teacher. She decides to risk it.

Corin is fast asleep by the time they decide to head to the inn. Dulsissia hoists him up and grunts with the effort. He’s still her baby boy, but he is definitely getting bigger. Arms and legs hanging down, dangling with the apathy only a sleeping child can produce, Corin burrows his face to her neck and sleeps on.

Seeing her struggle, Davarax reaches out. “Here. I’ll take him.”

“No.” Dulsissia’s answers is short and hard, and she turns to shield her son from the Mandalorian.

No one is taking her son away from her.

Davarax lifts his hands in a sign of backing off and nods. He then gestures to one of the large buildings looming behind the others. “This way.”

Dulsissia tries to focus on Davarax as they walk to avoid thinking about the weight of Corin. (He must be extra heavy from all the food.) The Mandalorian is tall. Dulsissia had some height on most women on Seswenna, but he is so tall he makes her seem short. And while the armor might make him seem even bigger, there is enough of him without the blue plates so she can tell that, yes, there is definitely muscle there. He walks with the grace of a predator.

Dulsissia feels a prickle of fear and is actually grateful for the reassuring weight of the vibroblade in her pocket.

They enter a grey tower of a building, head up to the third floor, passing by one rowdy soul after another, before entering the safety of their temporary refuge. The relief of being inside is quickly snuffed out by Dulsissia seeing, with rising despair, that there is only one bed in the room.

She clutches the sleeping Corin close, but doesn’t get the chance to panic or run for the door before Davarax walks over to the transparisteel and flips the switch to block the sound and light from outside and says; “Don’t worry. You two take the bed. I’ll sleep on the floor. It’s okay, it’s what I usually do on missions anyway. Few places I travel to have inns.”

Dulsissia hesitates. It feels wrong that the man who had paid for the room was now forced to sleep on the floor, but… She looks at the sleeping boy in her arms and her heart breaks again. Her pride dictates that they’ve accepted far too much charity from this stranger as it is, but her maternal heart doesn’t care. Her boy can sleep in a bed tonight.

Gently easing Corin down on the bed, a wistful smile appears on her face when he makes a happy sound at the soft mattress and Dulsissia tucks him in. Once that is done, she turns to look over at where Davarax has settled on the floor next to the wall with the transparisteel.

He lies on his back, hands folded on his stomach, his blaster on the floor next to him, and his visor staring up at the ceiling. His helmet. He can’t even remove his helmet as long as they’re there. He hasn’t eaten either, only provided food to them.

Dulsissia swallows hard, reaches out and takes one of the two pillows on the bed, the one Corin is not using, before cautiously making her way over to Davarax. She holds it out to him.

He shakes his head. “I don’t need it. I’m used to this and the helmet has padding. It’s fine.”

“Please.” Dulsissia says. Her final fragment of pride giving up. She can’t pay him back, but… she can give him her pillow.

He looks over at her, watches her for a couple of seconds, then he slowly reaches out and takes the pillow. “Thanks.”

Dulsissia nods, turns away and walks back towards the bed and her sleeping son. She’s almost there when she hears Davarax speak.

“Are you two running away from something?”

With her back towards the Mandalorian, Dulsissia stands by the bed and looks at Corin. He looks peaceful and content. It takes so very little to make that boy happy. “Yes.” After everything this man has done for them, she can’t lie.

“Is there someone out there hunting you?”

Dulsissia closes her eyes. She sees Macero’s face. She knows he was probably beyond livid when he discovered what she’d done; taken their son and disappeared. Left him. She knows his pride will never give up and that he is searching for them this very moment. “Yes.”

Davarax doesn’t ask any more questions so she climbs into bed and curls herself around her son. She has no idea what to do tomorrow, but Dulsissia is so very, very tired… and soon she’s asleep.

A gentle grip on her shoulder wakes her the next morning and she opens her eyes with a violent start that also wakes her son and has him go from relaxed to frightened within a second.

“Sorry.” Davarax says, pulling his hand away. “I tried to call your name. Neither of you responded. I was starting to worry there was something wrong.”

Dulsissia sits up and automatically pulls Corin close, wrapping her arms protectively around him despite how he calmed the second he saw the Mandalorian. “No, I’m sorry. I guess I was more tired than I…” She sees the small table to the left has several small containers with what her nose tells her is food. Davarax can’t eat his breakfast before they’re gone. “...than I was aware of.” She lamely finishes and dreads the second Corin smells it too. How is she to explain to him that she has no breakfast for him? “We’ll be out of your room in a minute.”

Davarax gestures to the table. “Eat. Please.”

Corin’s head snaps up and he scouts around the room. “Breakfast?” He starts pushing his mother away, trying to free himself. “So hungry!”

“Baby, no.” Dulsissia says, holding him back. “That’s Davarax’ food.”

“I ate earlier.” Davarax says, walking over to flip the switch that will make the tansparisteel let light and sound in again. “This is for you two.”

Letting Corin go in another wave of defeat, feeling like an utter failure, Dulsissia just sits on the bed while her son eats. Corin happily digs into the containers and pulls out treats with glee.

“Dulcy…” Davarax says, and his voice is suddenly so very soft and gentle. Like he isn’t some random stranger they just met, who has done more for her son than she’s been able to do in days. Like he is someone who cares. “You have to eat.”

Nodding, she’s used to doing what she’s told, Dulsissia gets up and walks over to the table. The first mouthfuls are difficult, she’s struggling not to spit it back out, but then Corin looks over at her and gives her a wide, happy grin. He lost a tooth last week. Her sweet baby boy.

Okay, enough self-pity. Keep going, girl. For Corin.

Dulsissia eats.

By the time they leave the room, Corin is both filled up with food and sleep and is once again the energetic child she’d seen during the first weeks of their freedom. He’s running around, exploring and darting back to her and Davarax when things get too scary, and Dulsissia smiles. She has a moment of fear when Corin decides to jump up and grab a hold of Davarax’ arm and use him as a rope-swing, but instead of getting angry, the Mandalorian merely sways him back and forth. He even answers every single one of Corin’s billion questions until Dulsissia orders her son to stop pestering the man.

The sun is almost strong enough to break through the heavy smoke in the sky today. Corin is watching a couple of teenage Zabraks play some game with a leatherball in an empty parking area while Dulsissia and Davarax sit on a fallen tree nearby.

“Your children,” Dulsissia says, happy to pretend this is just a normal day, “what are they like?”

Davarax hums and there is a smile in that sound. “Paz was my first. He’s a handful. He’s as tall and broad-shouldered as kids five years older than him and he loves to pick fights. But once you get under that tough surface, that boy is a giant softie who thinks it is his job to look after everyone. Barthor, my second one, is the most clever creature I’ve ever met. His intelligence is off the charts. He gets frustrated because the rest of us take so long to catch up to what he already knows, poor soul. Now, my third, Raga…” Davarax sighs and looks over at her. “She’s the scary one. Paz more or less persuaded me to train her because no one else wanted her. Her temper, teeth and absolute lack of fear has made her quite infamous at the Covert. It’s a shame so few get to see her sweet side, because she does have one.” The Mandalorian turns his attention over to Corin. “And then there is little Din. Your boy reminds me of him. I found Din shortly after his parents were killed. He was adopted by some friends of mine, but I get the feeling it’s not going too well…”

Mesmerized, Dulsissia cannot imagine for a second that Macero would be this caring about any of his children that he’d end up having. “They are lucky to have you.”

Davarax shrugs. “I feel like I’m the lucky one. Children are a blessing to Mandalorians.”

Smiling, Dulsissia looks over at Corin as well and they sit in silence for a while.

“I have to leave soon.” Davarax says, blurting it out as if he’s been holding it in for a while.

The words act like a fist clenching around Dulsissia’s stomach. She’d known this was just a temporary break in the nightmare that is her life these days, a brief respite, but she still hates that it has to end already. “Oh.” Corin is going to be devastated too.

“I finished my mission this morning when I got the food.” Davarax says. “I have to go back to the Covert. Report in. Check on my kids. Do some repairs on my ship.”

Dulsissia nods, but can’t look over at him. “I understand.” She forces herself to smile again. She’s good at that. “Well, thank you for everything you’ve done for us. For saving me, but most of all for the kindness you’ve shown Corin. He hasn’t had much of that in his life…”

Davarax doesn’t answer right away and she worries that her words hadn’t been grateful enough. She’s just distracted by how she can feel despair snapping at her heels at the thought of what lies ahead of her. She will fight a way to feed and house her son, but she knows it won’t be easy. And it scares her how close she’d been to going back to Macero…

“You could come with me?” Davarax says the words with the amount of caution you’d use for a skittish dewback. “You and Corin, you could come stay at the Covert for a while. You would be safe from alley creepers and no one would find you there.”

Dulsissia stares at him. “But… I’m not a Mandalorian. Neither is Corin.”

“The leader of our Tribe will let you two stay if I ask her.” Davarax sounds certain in his words. “I promise you, there will be a place for you there. We can teach you how to fight, how to protect yourself and your son. We can help you keep him safe.”

Dulsissia considers it, looks over at her son and knows what he would say, but the boy is too trusting. Corin still thinks his father is a good man at heart. “If he found out, he would destroy your Covert. I can’t repay your kindness by bringing evil to your door.”

“I can promise you,” Davarax leans closer, “that if this fool tries to challenge my Tribe, we won’t be the ones to be destroyed.”

#the mandalorian his son and the storm trooper #Dulsissia Motti #Davarax #Baby Corin #Fearsome Four #Mandorin AU #I SWORE I WOULDN'T WRITE THIS

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sulphuryasecretcloset · 4 years ago

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What if...? Part 9

Brace yourself, bring tissues and I will try to have the last bit/epilogue up real soon! Don’t look at me, I know I said this was the last part, but honestly, when it hit 12 pages I had to stop it there! And you lovely LOVELY enablers with your amazing comments and incredibly kind reblogs? Thank you for brightening my day! <3

What if Dulsissia hadn’t died, what if she had grabbed Corin and fled? What if she met Davarax? What if…

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8

Part 9

“We have to warn them.” Dulsissia whispers, her fingers toying with the fabric covering Davarax’ collarbone. “They have to move.”

“What are you talking about?” Davarax mumbles.

“The Covert.” Dulsissia replies, feeling an anxious knot in her stomach. “Macero knows Vecon found me on Nevarro. It’s not safe there any more. He will want revenge for his brother, Corin back in his claws and… me.”

“That’s not going to happen.” Davarax replies with lazy confidence.

“Do not underestimate his anger and the force he will use.” Dulsissia sits up to properly face him.

Davarax looks at her for a second then nods. “I hear you. I do. But do not underestimate the Covert. We are Mandalorians. We have survived worse things than Macero Valentis.”

Dulsissia isn’t too sure about that. She has seen an emptiness in Macero’s eyes that only belongs in black holes, the kind that simply exists to crush everything it touches, something that should not live in any human being’s eyes. But then her gaze drops to the blood glistering on Davarax’ clothing and she decides to deal with what she has right in front of her first.

“Come on. Off with it.” Dulsissia gets up and starts to detach Davarax’ breastplate. “Let me see.”

“It’s fine.” Davarax sighs, but helps her remove it and then his clothing, baring his torso, riddled with cuts and bruises and covered with sticky blood. “I’m fine.”

“This is not fine.” Dulsissia hisses, doing a quick examination of the wounds, especially where Vecon had stabbed him.

“Just a cut.” Davarax reassures her, trying to sound unfazed despite exhaustion creeping into his voice.

“Luckily he didn’t get the angle right.” Dulsissia mumbles. “Held the blade all wrong.”

She’s distracted by Davarax taking a gentle hold of her chin, making her look up at his t-visor and Davarax runs his thumb over her lower lip. “That’s my girl.” He sounds proud.

Flushing, Dulsissia pulls away and straightens up. “Do you have any bacta on the ship?”

He should, right? Mandalorians tend to get into fights all the time, so it would only be sensible.

Davarax points up and she sees the small compartment in the ceiling, which turns out to have a kit with bandages, a little bacta and a cauterizer thing that she quickly shoves back into the compartment.

She ends up sitting on his knee as the silly man refuses to leave the pilot seat in case some TIE fighters should appear out of nowhere and she begins to gingerly wash away the sticky blood and apply bandages to the injuries, trying not to think about how the last time she’d touched his skin it had been under so much happier circumstances. She hates knowing he will now carry even more scars because of her. And in the dark corners of her mind, she is glad Vecon is dead.

“How is Corin?” Dulsissia asks, dreading the answer. Her poor boy.

“And the rest of the kids?”

That actually brings forth the Davaraxian laughter huff. “I had to physically wrestle Paz off the ship when he heard I was going. If he had a blaster, he would have shot me.” His hand rounds her shoulder and moves up her neck to cup the side of her face. “They’ve all been desperate to get you back. Like me.”

“Hey.” Davarax takes a gentle but firm grip on her wrist, halting her movement, making her look at his visor. “This was not your fault. This was all them. You have nothing to apologize for.”

Dulsissia looks at the residual blood still drying on his skin. “Maybe not. But the fact remains that without me stumbling into your life, you wouldn’t be bleeding right now.”

“Without me barging into yours, I wouldn’t be sitting here, that’s true.” Davarax replies, gently caressing her wrist. “I wouldn’t be with you. My days wouldn’t bring happy memories instead of feeling guilty all the time. I wouldn’t come home to my kids smiling instead of crying, hiding away while being terrified for their lives or without a voice because they have been screaming themselves hoarse.” His hand moves up to brush the back of his fingers across her bruised cheekbone with heart breaking tenderness. “That’s worth more than bleeding for, cyare. That’s worth dying for.”

“Then, maybe, if you feel like that, would you…” Davarax says, tensing up a little.

Waiting for him to finish the sentence and frowning a little when he doesn’t, Dulsissia kisses his hand again. “Would I what?” The man just took on an entire imperial ship by himself without hesitation, but a simple request frightens him? How is that possible?

Davarax exhales, as if letting go of something, and tilts his head while making a thoughtful sound. “Would you let me compliment you on the dress? It’s lovely. And really brings out the colour of your eyes.”

Laughing, Dulsissia shakes her head and goes back to focus on cleaning and bandaging him up. “Thank you. I kind of like it myself. Impractical, but pretty. I was thinking about keeping it.”

“I think you should.” Davarax drawls, toying with the thin shoulder strap. “Definitely.”

“Mom?” Corin’s voice across the com link is desperate and hopeful at the same time.

It hurts endlessly more than any physical pain.

“I’m here, Corin.” Dulsissia replies, eyes welling up with tears and yet makes sure to keep her voice calm. “I’m right here, baby. I’m okay. Are you okay? Me and Davarax are coming home now.”

The reply is a mess of voices as all the children try to say something at the same time, making Dulsissia reach out and touch the speaker as if she could reach them. They all sound so worried.

“SHUT UP!” Paz’ voice roars and Dulsissia expects the other children jump like she does because there is silence before Paz’ voice is heard again, calm this time; “Dulcy, when will you be landing?”

Dulsissia looks over at Davarax, who is standing next to her while she sits in the pilot seat, and he leans down to tap something into one of the machines before holding up five fingers to her.

“Five standard hours.” Dulsissia replies, reaching out and touching the speaker again. “Okay? Five. Then we’ll be back with you. Is Corin okay, Paz? Are you okay? How, how are-”

“He’s okay.” Paz replies. His voice is suddenly a little shaky too. “We’re all… okay. Just, hurry home.” A moment’s pause before he adds in almost a whisper. “Please.”

“Five hours, Paz, sweetie, I promise.” Dulsissia gulps down some air. “Corin, baby, you hear me?”

“I’m here, mom.” His voice is choked with tears. “Is… Is uncle Vecon with you?”

Dulsissia hesitates, glances over at Davarax who stands like a silent guardian next to her, then focuses on the speaker again. “No. It’s just me and Davarax. Don’t worry, Corin.”

“Did you kick his ass?” Raga’s voice pipes up. “I hope you kicked his ass.”

“Of course they kicked his ass.” Din scoffs. “Davarax would never let someone take Dulcy away and not kick their ass.”

Dulsissia hesitates, glances over at Davarax again and this time he shrugs, so she turns back to the speaker with an awkward look on her face. “Yeah, uhm, there was. Serious ass-kicking.”

“Can’t you come home sooner, mom?” Corin pleads.

“I wish, Corin, but we can’t. We’re going as fast as we can. But we’ll be there soon.” Dulsissia replies, hating she can’t grant her son’s wish and just appear in front of him. But there is one voice missing. “Barthor, baby, you there?”

There is a second of silence and then there is a cautious and slightly surprised; “...Yeah?”

“I just wanted to hear your voice. You okay?”

Another moment of hesitation before Barthor replies. “Y-yeah. I’m, uhm, yeah. Just… What they said. Hurry back.”

Dulsissia can’t help but to smile a little as she can practically ‘hear’ him blushing and Davarax must hear it too as his hand touches her shoulder and gives it a light, teasing squeeze. “We will.”

The five hours are spent half-drowsing in Davarax’ arms after he takes over the pilot seat and pulls her down on his lap. She tries to relocate to her own seat, claiming she has to be cutting off the blood supply to his legs after a while, but he refuses to let go and they end up staying like that.

And the only feeling that can compete with the peace she feels in his arms is the one she gets when she steps through the door to the Covert and Corin flings himself into her arms.

Din rushes over, wraps his arms around Davarax’ waist and buries his face in his stomach, while the Mandalorian gently strokes his hair.

Kneeling down and hugging her son close, giving up on holding back sobs of joy, Dulsissia peppers his hair with kisses and feels his thin arms trying to hold on even tighter. Her boy is shivering so hard it’s scary. She pets his back, his hair, continues to kiss him and squeeze him tight.

It’s almost accidental when she looks up and sees the other children standing there. Raga is clinging to Paz’ arm, tears in her eyes. Barthor hovers in the back, tears in his eyes. And Paz… who knows. The helmet doesn’t reveal anything.

Dulsissia manages a weak smile and reaches out an inviting arm.

Raga bolts forward and crashes into her so hard it kind of hurts, but Dulsissia hugs her close and Corin automatically wraps his arm around her as well. Getting Barthor to come over takes a little fingerwaggling and a nod, but eventually he slinks over. Din joins when Davarax gives him a gentle push in their direction. It feels so right, so lovely, so perfect to just hug them, squeeze them and reassure them.

Arms crossed, Paz watches them, not moving when she tries to wave him closer. In the end, she ushers her armful over to Davarax and lets them unleash their hugs on him before straightening up and stepping over to stand in front of the quiet boy.

“No hug?” She asks.

“Kids first.” He replies in a curt tone.

Dulsissia pulls him close, hugs him tight and whispers; “The helmet doesn’t change anything, tough guy. You’re still my baby. Just like the others. Always. Remember?”

Paz hesitates, then his arms slowly come up and go around her in return. “Okay…” And in that moment, he does sound terribly young and even a little lost.

Eventually Davarax makes a slight grunt and says; “Maybe we can head inside?”

Dulsissia looks over and has to smile a little as she sees he’s balancing the climbing Raga on one shoulder while Corin is holding on to his free hand with both of his. “Yeah, let’s go.”

The children marches on ahead, except for Corin who insists on holding on to her hand and walk next to her, and Dulsissia uses the chance to lean over towards Davarax beside her and whisper; “We have to warn them, remember?”

Davarax nods. “I remember. But it’s late. Even if we go and try to talk to her, nothing will be done tonight. It’s better to wait for morning. We got time. Tomorrow, I’ll take you to her tomorrow.”

Dulsissia sighs. “Davarax…”

“Trust me.” He says, reaching out and sliding his hand behind her neck, giving it a light and teasing squeeze. “I know what I’m doing.”

She trusts him, she really does. It’s just that Dulsissia has this horrible feeling…

They enter her and Corin’s room, where she sits down on the bed, Corin still attached to her arm, while Davarax hovers by the door and the children barely has time to settle in a semi-circle on the floor before they start asking questions about what had happened to her while she was away.

Dulsissia manages to weed out some answers of her own. Like she suspected, her cookie customers had happily told the tale of what had happened to her and after that, it was easy to weed out which ship had arrived and the name of the officer.

“It’s late.” Davarax points out when Raga mutters about how he had to go alone to save her. “You kids should head home.”

“Can…” Din clears his throat, shifts his position a little awkwardly. “Can I stay here tonight?”

Corin nods. “He has bad dreams, mom. He dreamt the droids got you.”

Heart breaking, Dulsissia looks over at Davarax, who sighs and starts prodding at his vambrace.

“I’ll ask them.” He mumbles.

“Me too!” Raga shouts. “Can I stay too? Please?” She meekly offers; “I-I’ll be good. I promise.”

“If you’re staying, I’m staying.” Paz mutters.

“What about you?” Dulsissia asks as she sees Barthor stare at the floor.

The young boy scoffs. “My mom will never let me sleep over.”

“Want to bet?” Davarax says, a slight edge to his voice.

Looking around the room, Dulsissia quickly calculates that while the children will most likely pile up together like they did on the camping trip, there really isn’t enough bedding to make comfortable mattresses for them. She has an idea…

Dulsissia clears her throat. “How about… we all spend the night in Davarax’ room?”

The man’s t-visor snaps up from staring at the vambrace he’s prodding at. “Say what now?”

Din lights up like a sunrise. He stares at his hero and role model by the doorway. “Oh, can we?”

Davarax looks over at Dulsissia, who gives him a sweet smile in return, and he ends up giving a heavy sigh. “Just… let me talk to your parents first.”

They all settle and stare as he lifts his hand to his ear-piece and starts connecting to the different Mandalorians via their HUD comm links. Davarax switches off his external mic, so they can’t hear what he’s saying, but first he points at Din and gives a thumbs up. Which has Corin make a happy squeak, move forward as if to hug the other boy, but then realizes it means letting go of Dulsissia’s arm and sits back again with an anxious look. She has to nudge him twice before her son will let go and slide down to join his grinning friend on the floor.

Next Davarax points at Raga and gives a thumbs up. She starts a happy sound but it dies mid-squeak as she sends Paz a quick look. She settles down with a frown, taking a hold of his arm.

Dulsissia observes the annoyed twitch in Davarax’ shoulders, but after what must have been an interesting discussion, he points at Paz and gives a thumbs up. The helmet hides Paz’ reaction, but Raga lets out the rest of her happy squeak and smacks him in the shoulder with both hands, to which he responds with a half-hearted shove in return and something that sounds a lot like a faint laugh.

Barthor continues to stare at the floor while the rest stare with anticipation at Davarax. The last conversation is without a doubt the longest, Davarax even crosses his arms and taps his helmet lightly back against the door frame a couple of times, but then comes the moment when he straightens and turns his mic back on. “Barthor?”

The boy sighs and slowly looks over at him.

Davarax gives him the thumbs up.

Barthor’s eyes widen in mute surprise, a disbelieving smile breaks free and then he’s flattened the other cheering children.

“I hope you have a plan.” Davarax had said, watching the wrestling match on the floor. Dulsissia had given him a grin, whistled for the children’s attention and then handed out assignments.

And that is how both mattresses from their beds, all the blankets and bed covers from her and Corin’s room are carried across to Davarax’ room and placed on the floor next to Davarax’ bed. The children are acting like they are indeed camping again, all smiles and eagerness, as they get to create a nest of their own.

Dulsissia sees Corin is torn between the urge to hang on her arm and join in with the others, so she nudges him again. As much as she wouldn’t mind him clinging after having felt the fear that she’d never see him again, Dulsissia cannot forget the memory of watching him playing and running around with his friends without that anxious look in his eyes. It hurts, but she encourages him to join the others.

“I’ll be right here, baby.” She reassures him.

Davarax helps the children adjust the mattresses a little and then deem the make-shift bedding worthy of his children. He walks over to where Dulsissia is standing. “The kids are set. You take the bed. I’ll, uh…” He looks around, as if scouting for a free spot on the floor.

“You and me are sharing the bed.” Dulsissia states. “The bed are for old people. Like us.”

“I said I was sorry!” Barthor groans. “Let it go.”

“Never.” Dulsissia snaps back. Then she realizes that Davarax is just staring at her. “What?”

Davarax just shakes his head and turns to look at the chattering children settling in their places.

“And would you mind taking off the armor?” Dulsissia asks. “You can, inside the Covert, right?”

Davarax gives a tiny nod.

It takes some time before the children calm down and settle for the night. Dulsissia does a final check on them, fluffing pillows and deliberately cooing all sorts of endearments suitable for far younger children. Raga lies closest to the door, curled up to Paz’ back and holding on like a little jetpack, while Paz has his arm around Din, who has Corin on the other side, and closest to the bed is Barthor.

“Okay, lights out.” Dulsissia declares after Davarax climbs into the bed and flops down on his back. “Sweet dreams, and if any of you need anything, just call out. Okay?”

There is a chorus of ‘okay’s.

After turning the lights off and cautiously making her way back to bed without stepping on anyone, Dulsissia climbs into it. As Davarax insists on being closest to the door, she has to also climb over him. Sighing satisfied, she curls up close to him, rests her head on his chest and abruptly notes how incredibly tense he is. And how he is very deliberately not touching her.

After a while, Dulsissia lets out a soft laugh. “You’re going to have to breathe eventually, you know.”

“No.” The answer is resolute.

Dulsissia giggles.

Corin’s head pops up from the pile. “Mom?” Several sleepy blinks. “What’s so funny?”

Dulsissia hoists herself up on her side to look at the children on the floor at the other side of Davarax, ‘innocently’ placing a hand on Davarax’ stomach, pretending to keep her balance that way while gently groping the fabric of the shirt. “Nothing, baby. Go back to sleep.”

Corin’s head flops down again, but at the same time, to her utter surprise, Dulsissia feels Davarax’ hand cup her behind and she has to suffocate a squeak. Corin’s head pops up again. “Mom?”

“It’s fine, Corin.” Dulsissia prods two fingers next to one of Davarax’ wounds and he jolts with a muffled grunt.

Corin’s head goes down again.

Davarax’ takes a firmer grip on her behind, hitching her abruptly closer, and she places a hand an unharmed area on his chest to push herself away, but then he uses his other hand to grab hers, pulling her even closer, so she squirms to free herself. They both struggle to muffle their laughter.

Paz’ helmet comes up and he lets out a very annoyed; “SHHH!”

Davarax and Dulsissia both withdraw their hands, fighting even harder to keep the laughter quiet.

“Sorry.” Dulsissia stutters through choked giggles.

“Yeah, sorry.” Davarax adds, struggling hard to silence his own laughter.

Grunting, still very much annoyed, Paz lies back down again.

As the laughter calms, Dulsissia searches and finds Davarax’ hand. She takes it, lifts it up to hold it between their chests, and smiles as their fingers begin their slow, pointless dance of just touching and braiding and feeling.

This. Dulsissia Motti realizes that she doesn’t need her fortune, her fancy clothes or the fancy food. She just needs this man and these children.

Fate brought them together and nothing can tear them apart.

Macero Valentis looks down at the pale face of his brother as he lies dead in the med bay.

“Sir?” One of the officers step into the room, through the door flanked by two Death Troopers. “Sir, it is confirmed. The Razor Crest is back on Nevarro.”

“Good. Increase our speed. Prepare the squads.” Macero says. “Fuel up the Flame Troopers, but make it clear I want my wife and son brought back alive.”

The officer nods and disappears out of the room.

Macero’s eyes narrow.

Nevarro is going to burn and every Mandalorian there with it.

“Listen, she has agreed to hear you out, but remember that you’re an, well, outsider.” Davarax says, before quickly adding; “To her.”

Dulsissia nods, arms tightly wrapped around herself, increasingly more nervous as they walk towards the Forge. “I understand.”

Davarax enters the room first, she follows, and they both kneel down and wait for the leader of the Mandalorians to approach them.

Feeling every second ticking away as a life lost, Dulsissia has to dig her nails into the palms of her hands to keep quiet. It was bad enough that they didn’t approach her yesterday, but now time might actually be running out.

Finally the one in a golden mask approaches them. “So he managed to bring you back.”

“Yes.” Dulsissia says, looking up at the leader. “But I fear trouble might follow me. There is a man in the Imperial Army. An officer. His brother was killed yesterday. He will want revenge for that.” She swallows hard. “And he’ll want me and my son.”

The Mandalorian leader stares at her for a couple of seconds then looks over at Davarax. “If he comes, we will fight. That is the Way.”

“No.” Dulsissia shakes her head. “No, you can’t fight him. Didn’t you hear me? He’s an officer in the Imperial Army. He will bring his forces here and he will destroy Nevarro. You have to run before he gets here.”

“I was hoping some time apart might clear your mind, but you are still blinded by her it seems.” The leader says, now clearly speaking to Davarax.

“I love her.” Davarax states it like a simple fact.

Dulsissia’s heart does a double-flip, not expecting him to confess that in front of his leader.

“That might be your downfall.” The one in gold armor warns him.

“You don’t like me.” Dulsissia says, her voice sharp with a touch of anger but mostly impatience. “There’s not much I can do about that. But you don’t have to like me to listen to what I’m telling you; you have to evacuate the Covert.”

The leader’s visor turns back to focus on Dulsissia. “We are Mandalorians. We fight. That is the Way.”

“But it won’t be a fight.” Dulsissia insists. “It will be a slaughter. And you have children here! Do you expect them to fight as well? Do you think this man will spare them? Because he won’t.”

Davarax reaches out and discretely touches Dulsissia’s arm in a signal for her to calm down.

“We have stayed in this Covert for many years and survived. Our kind has survived the Imperial Army before. That is the Way.” The leader replies, turning away.

“No.” Dulsissia gets up, shakes off Davarax’ hand and takes a step forward. “Listen to me! Please! This man will come here and he will kill everyone. You had the other Coverts established in case of an emergency. You knew something bad could happen some day. This is that day.”

Davarax is up on his feet too now and Dulsissia can feel his looming presence behind her back, ready to either stop her or defend her, she wonders if he knows which.

“This Covert took in me and my son when we had nowhere to go and we would have starved or worse if not for your help. I may not have sworn the Creed, but you have my loyalty. I would fight side by side with you against this man if I thought there was the slightest chance that he’d fight fair and we’d stand a chance against the number of weapons and soldiers he’s bringing. I would gladly die for these children.”

The armorer takes a step towards her, suddenly uncomfortably close, but Dulsissia makes herself stand her ground. She knows how much courage means to Mandalorians.

“You would die for them?”

“Yes.”

“Then you would stay while they go to the new Covert?”

“Then I am staying too.” Davarax states.

“No, you will not.” Dulsissia snaps, then focuses on the one in gold. “If that is what it takes for you to get the children to safety. All I ask is that you take my son with you. Let Davarax raise him as his own.” Maybe this is the punishment she deserves for not seeing through Macero’s act back then?

Besides, Macero won’t kill her. That would be way too easy. He will make her suffer instead, and that means there is hope for an escape.

Corin will never forgive her, but at least he will be alive and free to hate her and in safe hands.

Nevarro burns.

Most of the buildings here are reduced to ruins after the ships had bombed the area into submission. Powerful bursts of flame now flows through the air as the Flame Troopers wander around in the streets and gleefully tries to set fire to everything. Storm troopers are flooding into the underground entrances that leads below to the sewers and Macero has been told is the Mandalorian hide-out.

Forty standard minutes later, Macero is told that the place is entirely abandoned. No signs of any Mandalorians, his wife or his son.

“It’s said that a Mando brought your wife and a bunch of children on board the Razor Crest.” A Death Trooper reports. “Based on the description, sounds like the same guy as before.”

Usually Macero knows to bottle up his rage and stay calm. He knows Dulsissia is probably poisoning his son’s mind against him, but that can be corrected once Macero gets the boy back.

However, the thought of this filthy Mando, Vecon’s murderer, fathering the next Motti child instead of him… Macero lashes out and sends everything on his desk flying. All those year, all the planning, all the effort it took to get Dulsissia, ruined. “I WANT HIS HEAD ON MY WALL!”

“Sir?” The Death Trooper clears his throat. “Sir, if I may, I have an idea…”

Panting, Macero turns his glare over at the trooper. “What is your name, soldier?”

The Death Trooper removes his helmet and gives him a smug smile. “My name is Dominic, sir. And if you want someone to hunt down this Mando for you, I know just the guy. This one just loves chasing down dangerous prey.”

The new Covert is a lot smaller than the one on Nevarro, but situated in the same kind of dry, dusty environment, underground and next to a small town. And while the structure is ready, it takes no small amount of work to get the place habitable.

For the next three weeks, Dulsissia works herself half to death. She gets up early and is among the last to quit, but the guilt of knowing they had to relocate because of Macero is driving her. Especially when they get the message that Nevarro had been levelled to the ground and was now nothing but a smoking pile of ashes.

Dulsissia expects the Mandalorians to turn on her, blame her for tearing them up from their home, but to her surprise; none of them seem fazed at all and don’t treat her any different than before; with mild indifference.

The leader of the Mandalorians sends Dulsissia a long, indecipherable look when they get the news about Nevarro’s fate, but doesn’t say anything.

Corin competes with Din for having the most nightmares during the first couple of weeks and sticks to her like glue despite her efforts to have him join the other children. He keeps expecting his father to appear at any second and jumps at any sudden sound.

Davarax works even harder than all of them and she barely sees a glimpse of him for what feels like ages. He’s either out gathering supplies or hunting down prey for the bounty so he can buy whatever the Covert needs to become fully functional.

Dulsissia leaves small boxes in front of his door, with food and even some cookies she manages to barter into her possession. She finds beautiful flowers, including ones made out of folded paper when he’s clearly been where none are to be found, in front of her door and she misses him so much she could cry.

Especially as Davarax’ room is as far away from Dulsissia’s as possible and Dulsissia knows the leader has made it so. She may be allowed to stay with the Covert, but is clearly not worthy of him.

Dulsissia feels a bittersweet happiness when Davarax shows up at her door one evening and asks to borrow her for a little while. A quick glance over at where Corin and Raga are playing some game results in her son giving her a brave smile and telling them to go. Her sweet selfless boy.

“Where are we going?” Dulsissia asks as she follows Davarax.

“Nowhere special, I’m afraid.” Davarax says in a tired sigh. “I just got back and I haven’t… I just…” His fingers touch hers as they walk. “I just wanted to talk to you for a bit. Hear your voice.”

Dulsissia braids their fingers together and holds on to his hand. “I’d like that very much.” They’ve barely spent any time together since they left Nevarro.

She is a little surprised when he brings her out of the Covert, circles around the building hiding their secret entrance, and then they sit down on the sand behind it, their backs against the wall.

It’s a lovely view over the desert stretching out in front of them, stars are starting to appear in the sky and there is just the calm hum of the town nearby to disturb them.

“Tell me about the kids.” Davarax asks, carefully sliding his arm around her shoulders and leaning his helmet back against the wall. “Are they settling in?”

She tells him about Din wanting to start with blaster target practice, Raga making friends with her new braiding skills, Barthor working on making a com set for just them, Corin having fewer nightmares and Paz getting into a horrible brawl with a group of older teenagers. Dulsissia also tries to ask Davarax about his travels and how he is, but he keeps avoiding the questions and just wants to talk about her and the kids. She doesn’t push him. He sounds tired enough as is.

It’s when she’s complaining about Decco nearly breaking her arm during their last practice that Dulsissia picks up on Davarax’ deep, even breathing and how his helmet has tilted ever so slightly and barely touches her head.

He’s asleep.

For Davarax to fall asleep out in the open, it really underlines how exhausted he must be and Dulsissia aches for him. So tired and yet he had sought her out instead of rest...

She watches their surroundings, just in case, and she lets him sleep.

The man is exhausted and someone needs to make sure he doesn’t wear himself out entirely. Davarax spends his every waking hour looking after everyone else, but who is looking after him?

Life as a Mandalorian is a dangerous one and she fears what could happen if he’s too worn down to protect himself when danger finds him.

Dulsissia watches, arms crossed and once again with conflicted feelings, when the day comes when Barthor comes preening into the training room with his green helmet on. And to think it’s only two months left before she’ll never be allowed to braid Raga’s hair again…

She’s still not used to seeing Paz wearing his.

Davarax had reassured her that it is allowed to remove the helmet in front of one’s family so at least she would be allowed to see Corin’s face again if he decides to take the Creed, but the fact that he’ll never sit with his friends and feel the sun on his face saddens her.

It also makes her a little hesitant at the thought of wearing one for the rest of her own life.

“Davarax.” A Mandalorian in green and grey armor stands in the doorway. “A word.”

Davarax gestures for Paz to start the warm-up before walking over to his fellow Mandalorian.

The conversation is quiet and even then, after a quick glance her way, Davarax gestures for them to use their HUD com links and cut their external mics. It sets off countless warning bells in Dulsissia’s mind.

When the other Mandalorian leaves, she stalks over. “What?”

Davarax sighs, activates his mic again. “We lost a Mandalorian. He was meant to bring back some supplies but never showed up. Dez found him yesterday. Dead.”

“Dead?” Dulsissia feels ice cold dread spread through her. “Macero?”

“We don’t know that.” Davarax reassures her. “The Galaxy isn’t exactly short of dangerous people, Dulcy. It’s not the first brother we’ve lost over the years. Even on Nevarro.”

“So why do you sound so uneasy?” Dulsissia snaps, hearing the tension in his voice.

“I just…” Davarax shrugs. “It’s stupid, but… A piece of his armor was missing. Why not take all of it? Why just one piece?”

“A trophy.” Dulsissia whispers. “My father and his friends used to do that when hunting creatures. They would take a fang, a horn, something, as a trophy. Bragging rights.”

“As I said, we don’t know. It might be a coincidence. It might be nothing.” Davarax places his hand on her shoulder and gives it a reassuring squeeze. “Try not to worry. It’s easy to say and difficult to do, I know. But there is no point in dreading something that might not come to happen.”

He’s right. She knows he is. But that still can’t stop her from worrying.

But then weeks go by and nothing more odd or bad happens. Things are starting to stabilize a little at the new Covert, it’s starting to feel a bit like the old one, and because Davarax is away on a mission Dulsissia even tries to smile in his place the day Raga puts on her helmet.

“It’s not fair.” Din mutters, arms crossed.

Standing next to him, Corin shrugs. “Well, I like looking at your face, so…”

In an instant, Din’s aforementioned face turns a deep red and he loses his battle against a tiny smile. “Y-you’re okay too. Your face. I mean, your face is okay too.”

Corin laughs. “Thanks.”

Din goes even a deeper shade of red.

Behind them, hearing the conversation, Dulsissia places a hand over her heart and nearly swoons over the adorableness of it all. She can’t wait to tell Davarax that her too perfect to be true son has his first crush, on Din! It’s too cute.

When she hears Davarax’ ship has landed, that he’s back, Dulsissia trots towards the entrance to greet him and inform him of this very interesting development.

She comes to an abrupt halt and all the giddy happiness in her chest evaporates when Davarax and two other Mandalorians enter while carrying something between them. A body wearing Mandalorian armor. They leave behind a trail of blood drops as they disappear into the darkness of the Covert.

After that, it takes no more than one week before the next one dies. Nine days until the next. Four days. Every time a piece of armor goes missing.

“Don’t go.” Dulsissia begs, reaching out and holding on to his arms so hard her fingers hurt from digging into him. “Don’t.”

Davarax sighs and shakes his head. “I have to.”

“No, you don’t.” She argues, desperate. “You don’t. You can stay here. Stay here with me. With the children. Stay.”

“Dulcy…” Davarax gently tucks a lock of her hair behind her ear. “Don’t worry. It’s going to be fine. I’ll be back in a couple of days.”

Shaking her head stubbornly, Dulsissia wraps her arms around his waist and holds on tight. Maybe if she just refuses to let go she can keep him here by force.

Chuckling, Davarax wraps his own arms around her and rocks her gently. “Cyare, nothing bad is going to happen. I promise. I’ll come back to you. You think some mercenary can keep me away from you? Not a chance.”

Gritting her teeth and fighting against the tears, Dulsissia tightens her grip. “Don’t go.” He’d just come back from the last job yesterday and he’d kept nodding off all morning. “Please. Don’t.”

“I have to.” Davarax repeats, his hands move up to cup her face and forces her to look up at his t-visor. “When I get back, how about I teach you that dance you saw Roota do?”

“How about you stay and teach me now?” Dulsissia hiccups, losing the battle against the tears as she realizes there is no way she can persuade him to stay.

Mumbling something in Mando’a, Davarax leans down and places his forehead to hers.

Dulsissia covers her mouth with a shaky hand, sobbing quietly as she watches him walk away.

She’s wrong. Davarax comes back without a scratch. And he teaches her that funny looking dance.

It’s the mission after where things goes horribly, horribly wrong.

Dulsissia is walking towards her and Corin’s room with an armful of laundry when she notices helmet after helmet on several Mandalorians turning to look at her.

Blinking nervously, figuring they’ve gotten some kind of message via their helmets, Dulsissia halts, holds her laundry close and half-expects them to tell her that Macero is outside the door or just draw their blasters to shoot her.

“Dulcy.” Decco’s voice says and the Mandalorian comes walking towards her. “Haven’t you heard?”

“Heard what?” Dulcy whispers, now even more scared. Corin, where is Corin? Has something happened to Corin? The other children? Is it Macero?

“They brought Davarax back.” Decco says. “He is below. I’m sorry.”

For a second, the words just rattle around Dulsissia’s head and don’t make any kind of sense to her. “N-no…” Dulsissia can’t breathe. She shakes her head, trying to evict the words before they can take root, make sense and reveal the horrible truth to her. “No.”

Davarax is not dead. He can’t be dead. It’s not possible. No. NO!

For the first time there is compassion in Decco’s voice as she speaks. “He fought valiantly.”

Violent shivers shudders through Dulsissia and she fails to notice how the laundry slips from her arms and just fall to the floor. “No…” She shakes her head again, tears welling up and escaping from her eyes. “Please, no…”

She can’t breathe. She can’t breathe!

Decco reaches out to touch her arm and the contact sends a jolt through Dulsissia, tossing her from horrified apathy to desperate denial.

“NO!” Dulssissia runs. She runs down the hallway, towards the door where she had seen them bring the other Mandalorians brought back, lifeless and missing a piece of armor. Every Mandalorian she meets, steps aside and lowers their visors.

Rushing down the stairs, she comes to the corridor below and Dulsissia comes to an abrupt halt when she sees the children there. They are huddled together, Paz doing his best to gather them in his embrace, and she can hear some of them crying from a distance.

The hysteria flares out and turns into an icy numbness.

Dulsissia walks forward, unaware of her own tears and the shivering heaves of air her lungs fight for. She can’t even look at the children, who all turn to face her. All she can see is the is the trail of blood leading to an open door, where she can see someone lying on a make-shift bed.

Due to the angle of the room, she can only see them from the waist down, but she knows who it is because of the helmet lying on the floor next to them.

Davarax’ helmet is stained with blood and lies in a pool of it.

For a second, Dulsissia has to stop. Her chest is compressing so hard that she truly can’t breathe, her heart cannot beat and everything hurts. She closes her eyes and her mouth opens in a silent scream of pure agony.

It’s the sound of footsteps that snaps her out of it. The children approaching her. And it’s too much. She can’t face them now. She can’t.

She has to see.

Forcing her feet to carry her forward, Dulsissia knows she’s on the verge of passing out as she steps into the room, but she enters anyway.

Dulsissia recognizes his boots, his pants, his torso that is once again bared and again covered with blood due to more wounds, injuries they had put bacta patches on, but these won’t heal to become scars. She slowly, almost reluctantly lifts her gaze further, sees the huge pressure bandage to his neck that is soaked through with blood.

And his face...

More hot tears spill from her eyes and Dulsissia tilts her head as she studies him. His hair is as dark as Corin’s, he has more than stubble at this point, a strong jawline and almost stern eyebrows that somehow only enhances the kind expression on his face. He is the kind of handsome that would have had all the girls on Seswenna swooning over him. He’s even more perfect than she’d dare to dream he would be.

Dulsissia can’t hold back an agonized sob.

And that is when he slowly opens his eyes, gorgeous dark eyes, to look at her.

Shock, disbelief, insane hope, everything slams into her at once. Dulsissia rushes over to his side, grabs his hand and holds it between both of hers. “Davarax?”

He blinks wearily. “Hey…”

His voice, unfiltered and drenched with pain, confirming that he is indeed alive.

Now the sobs are unbridled relief and joy, Dulsissia leans down to press kisses to his hand. “You’re alive. Thank the stars, you’re alive. I thought… They said… You’re alive.”

“I’m sorry…” Davarax whispers.

“Sorry?” Dulsissia’s head whips up to look at him, still crying with relief. “What are you sorry for?”

Davarax’ beautiful dark eyes avoid hers, even though he’s clearly too weakened to do much else. “My helmet. They had to take it off.” He swallows and cringes with pain, probably due to the wound on his neck. “To stop the bleeding. I can’t put it back on. It’s not allowed.”

Shaking her head, even more confused, Dulsissia kisses his hand again. “Then don’t wear it. I don’t care.”

“You don’t understand.” Davarax breaks into a couple of coughs and has to grit his teeth against the pain. Sweat is glistering on his skin. He makes himself look at her again. “I’ve broken my Creed. I… I have to leave the Covert. I have to leave you.”

Dulsissia blinks and then she sits up straight. “No. If you’re not allowed to stay, then we will leave.”

Davarax tries to sit up as well but can barely get his head up an inch from the pillow before he falls back with a gasp of pain and has to breathe for several seconds. “Dulcy… You don’t understand.”

“Then explain it to me.”

“You were right. The killings.” Davarax swallows, a drop of sweat trailing from his temple. “It was Macero. He hired some… nightmare of a creature. To go after Mandalorians.” He swallows again. “He said he was going to bring… my head back to Macero Valentis. For his wall.”

Dulsissia feels a wave of nausea roll through her. Her fault. This is her fault. She can tell by the severity of the cut to his neck how close this ‘nightmare-thing’ had come to succeeding.

“Without the Covert…” Davarax sounds utterly resigned amidst his pain. “I can’t protect you, Dulcy. I can’t keep… you and Corin safe. From him. Not on my own. You have to stay here.”

Shaking her head, Dulsissia reaches out and ever so gently cups the side of his face, feeling the warm skin and slight roughness of his heavy stubble verging on beard. “I don’t want you to protect me, Davarax. I want us to protect each other. I’m learning to fight and with you I can only get better. And Mandalor help whomever tries to put their hands on my son.”

Davarax almost smiles, but the sadness from his eyes is not banished. And, oh, he looks so tired. “Except for the Razor Crest and my armor, I have nothing, Dulcy. I can offer you nothing.”

Dulsissia reaches out her other hand, holds his face carefully between her hands, and holds his gaze as well. “Marry me.”

“What?”

“Will you marry me?” Dulsissia repeats.

“I…” Davarax looks utterly confused and he even manages to lift a hand to touch her arm. His touch is very cold. “Dulcy, did you hear what I said?”

“Yeah.” She says. “Did you hear me?”

“But…” Davarax frowns, the confusion drowning out the pain for a moment.

“I love you.” Dulsissia says, running a thumb along his cheekbone. “I’m not losing you again. Wherever you go, I go. So, will you marry me?”

Davarax swallows. “Yes.”

Dulsissia feels sweet, giddy joy flood her veins. She caresses his face for a little while, fascinated by how incredibly lovely he looks, it’s not fair he gets to have such a handsome face when he’s also the kindest man she’s ever met. “One more question.” She moves one hand down to trail two fingers over his lips. “Can I kiss you?”

Something flashes in Davarax’ eyes and he looks strangely nervous when he nods.

“You sure?” Dulsissia asks, a little wary after his odd reaction.

But there is no hesitation in his second nod so she leans down and, mindful of his wounds and weakened state, she gently brushes her lips to his.

It’s just as sweet as she suspected it would be.

But when Dulsissia pulls back, she sees the utterly dazed look in Davarax’ eyes and that combined with the slightly passive response she’d gotten fuels a suspicion in her head. “Was that… your first kiss?” Surely not.

The only thing preventing Davarax from blushing right now is the lack of blood in his body. He finally gives the tiniest of nods.

That stuns Dulsissia for a second and that is when she hears her beloved son’s voice whisper;

“I told you she would find a way. I told you we weren’t going to lose him. I told you!”

Sitting up straight, Dulsissia looks over at the doorway. “If we’re going to live on the Razor Crest for the foreseeable future, we are going to have a talk about privacy, baby. Get your butt in here.”

Corin shuffles in, flushing deep red. “Sorry, mom.”

Din follows him and stares angrily at Dulsissia. “You are leaving too? You and Corin?”

Dulsissia nods. “Yes. We are going with Davarax.” She hears Davarax drawing a pained breath, either to apologize or try to explain or something, so she squeezes his hand gently and shakes her head at him. “You. Rest.”

“What about me?” Din asks, the anger giving way to despair. “I don’t want to stay here. Please. Don’t leave me. If you do, I’ll run away! They will never find me. I’ll die before I go back.”

Dulsissia hesitates. “Baby, I…”

“I want to come too.” Paz steps into the room, followed by Raga and Barthor. He reaches up and takes a hold of his helmet, but Barthor grabs his arm.

“Paz! Take it off and you can’t put it back on. Remember?”

“I know.” Paz replies, shaking off the arm and calmly removing his helmet. The two years have chipped away at the roundness of his face and Dulsissia can see he’s at the very start of growing into the man he’ll one day become. “I’m going with you.”

Raga silently removes hers as well. “My parents have my brothers. I’m just trouble to them.”

Lost for words, Dulsissia merely stares at them.

Before any more words can be exchanged someone steps into the room. The children quickly step back to give room for the Armorer to enter.

Dulsissia tenses up and holds on tight to Davarax’ hand. What does the leader want?

“Get out.” The one in gold armor orders.

The children rush out of the room, but Dulsissia hesitates. She looks over at Davarax.

“Go...” He says. “It’s fine.”

Dulsissia gets up but pauses next to the Armorer. “I’ll be waiting right outside. Okay?”

“Okay.” Davarax replies.

Dulsissia reluctantly steps out of the room, but does what she said; waits right outside the door that closes behind her. The children all stare curiously at her, but she shakes her head at them, not ready to answer questions yet. She has too many of her own.

And most of them are then answered by accident.

She doesn’t mean to eavesdrop, but the room isn’t exactly sound-proof and the door is flimsy.

“I told you.” The leader’s voice says, but sounding… different. “I warned you she would become your downfall. Now look at you, vod.”

“And I told you, I love her.”

“She made you weak.”

“No.” Davarax coughs and grunts with pain. “No, not weak. Without her… I don’t think I could have defeated him, vod. Without her, I think I would have ended up dead. She… She makes me… want to live.”

“Everyone knows they took off your helmet.”

“I’m aware.” Davarax mumbles. “We both knew this was a possibility with that rule. It’s okay.”

“Where are you going to go, vod?”

“I don’t know.” A short silence. He’s struggling to speak, so very exhausted. “I’m going to miss you, vod. Mom would have been proud of you.”

“Promise me you will kill that Valentis vermin.”

“One day.”

“Ret'urcye mhi, vod.” The leader’s voice is back to normal again. And the door opens before she steps out into the hallway. There the golden helmet turns its visor to focus on Dulsissia. “He says he is alive because of you. Make it your Way to keep him alive.”

Dulsissia nods.

The leader then looks over at the children, pauses on Paz. “Your father will not be pleased.”

Paz gives her a weak smile. “When is he ever?”

“That is his Way.” The visor turns back to Dulsissia. “Take supplies from the food storage. Bring Davarax’ weapons. Load up the Razor Crest. I suggest you move fast, as once Dez Vizla learns of this he will indeed not be pleased. And he will blame you. Davarax is in no shape to protect you.”

“Thank you.” Dulsissia means it. “For everything. And I’m sorry.”

“It is what it is.” The leader replies. “May you find your Way.”

Dulsissia watches the Mandalorian walk away, takes a deep breath and turns back to the children looking at her. While Dulsissia has no trouble bringing Paz along, his father will be livid over him removing the helmet and isn’t fit to raise him anyway, but the rest… “Raga, are you sure-”

“I’m coming.” The girl states, uncharacteristically calm. “I know what you’re going to say, Dulcy. I love my mom and dad, I do, but… I like being with you guys. Back home it is always screaming and punching and stupidheads. One time I fell asleep in Din’s hiding place and when I ran home the next morning, they hadn’t even noticed I was gone. I’m old enough to put on the helmet, I can decide to leave.”

“You have to tell them.” Dulsissia says, and Raga nods.

Corin stares wide-eyed up at his mother, a look of awe he’s only given to Davarax in the past.

Dulsissia looks over at Barthor, hovering in the background and the only one still wearing his helmet. He jolts and shakes his head, so she gives him a soft smile. “It’s okay, baby. Don’t worry. Nobody is angry with you if you want to stay. That’s perfectly okay.”

Paz and Raga glance back at him and pull him forward to hug him between them, mumbling reassurances that they are not angry with him.

“Din…” Dulsissia says and he is quick to interrupt her.

“I will run away. I will! I swear it!” He steps forward, breathing hard. “Don’t leave me here.”

“We’re not going to leave you.” Dulsissia promises. “But we are going to have to record a message for your parents.”

“They are not my parents.” Din mutters with distaste.

“According to the Covert they are.” Dulsissia points out and closes her eyes for a moment. “Okay. Listen up, here’s what we are going to do…”

Dulsissia and Paz have Davarax between them helping him walk the final steps before they can ease him into the seat. Getting him up to the cockpit of the Razor Crest had been both terrifying and exhausting, but they have managed, somehow, the three of them.

Davarax is soaked with sweat, beyond pale and in so much pain he can barely talk.

Corin and Raga are below in the cargo hold, fastening the crates of supplies they’d brought, while Din is in the pilot seat and already flipping switches and pressing buttons.

Paz gives Davarax a pat on the shoulder and then disappears to help Corin and Raga. Dulsissia checks on the wounds, sees a couple have started to bleed again, but it’s the one on the neck that worries her. The scanner she had ‘borrowed’ from the Covert had given her an idea of the damage done to him and she knows it won’t take much before that compromised artery will tear open. It’s a miracle he’s alive.

“We’re ready.” Din declares as the Razor Crest’s engines comes alive.

Dulsissia buckles Davarax in, gives his sweaty temple a quick kiss that he’s barely conscious to acknowledge and then trots over to stick her head down into the cargo hold. “You guys ready?”

Corin and Raga run over to the fold-down seats and starts buckling themselves in. Paz does a final check on the cargo being properly secured before he gives her the thumbs up and moves over to make sure Corin and Raga are securely buckled in.

Dulsissia gets up and finds her own seat, buckling in. “Okay, Din. Let’s go.”

The Razor Crest shudders and shakes a bit, Din clenches his jaw and tightens his grip on the controller and then eases the ship up into the air. “Okay… Here we go.”

Everything jolts a bit as they shoot forward and then race towards the blackness of space.

Once they are gliding smoothly among the stars, Dulsissia dares to unbuckle herself and walks over to check on Davarax. His head is hanging low and he seems to be out of it, but the scanner shows his vitals are strong if a little jumpy. Good.

“Mo-om?” Corin’s voice sounds from the cargo hold.

Ice cold dread strikes and Dulsissia runs over to the door and hurries below. “What is it, baby? What’s wrong? Who is hu..” Her voice dies out as she turns from the ladder and finds herself looking at Paz, Raga and Corin all standing around Barthor, who is sitting on the floor.

“Barthor?” He’s still wearing his helmet, the visor fixated on the floor, so Dulsissia crouches down in front of him. “Barthor, baby, what are you doing here?”

Barthor sighs and slowly lifts his visor to look at her. “My parents don’t care whether I’m there or not. The only friends I have are here.” He sounds horribly defeated. “What choice did I have?”

Dulsissia reaches out and stops him as he lifts his hands and takes a hold of his helmet. “Baby, no. Listen to me. You have a choice. If you want to, we turn around and bring you back home right away. If you want to stay, you stay and we send a message to your parents. And your helmet? You don’t have to take it off. You wear it as long as it feels right to you. Your choice, baby. Okay?”

Barthor nods, trying to hide a sniffle. He lowers his hands and leaves the helmet on. “But I already left them a message. So… I’d like to stay here, if that’s acceptable with you.”

Dulsissia has to smile and nods. “That is very acceptable.” She leans forward and taps her forehead to Barthor’s helmet, to which he ducks his head down with an embarrassed laugh.

That was the beginning.

The beginning of their family.

The beginning of their journey.

And the beginning of the end of Macero Valentis.

#the mandalorian his son and the storm trooper #What if #Dulsissia Motti #Davarax #Baby Corin #Fearsome Four #It really should be Fearsome FIve now #Mandorin AU #Macero sucks

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sulphuryasecretcloset · 4 years ago

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What if...? Part 6

Again, this one goes out to you beautiful enablers! You who comment, reblog and are along for this journey through AU land! I see you, I appreciate you and you make my day :D

So, uh, a quick question: Which do you, read readers, prefer; either one giant part 7 or more regular sized part 7 + a part 8... What’s your vote?

What if Dulsissia hadn’t died, what if she had grabbed Corin and fled? What if she met Davarax? What if…

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

“I want you to train me. Teach me how to fight.” Dulsissia blurts it out as she settles herself down next to where Davarax is sitting on the floor with his blaster meticulously laid out in pieces on a blanket in front of him to do maintenance on the different parts.

Davarax freezes for several seconds and then he cautiously puts the pieces he was holding down and he looks over at her. “I, uh, I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

“Why not?” Dulsissia frowns. He doesn’t think she can handle it?

“I’m sure we can ask Decco to train you.” Davarax offers.

“Bee-cause you don’t want to.” Dulsissia draws out the word, not entirely sure whether to be hurt or offended, but right now she’s leaning towards both.

Davarax lifts a placating hand, sighing. “It’s not that I don’t want to. I just… I don’t think it would be a good idea.”

Had it been any other man, Dulsissia would have gone on a rant by now, but she knows Davarax wouldn’t say no if he didn’t have a good reason. “Would you mind telling why not?”

His hand slowly sinks down again and he makes a couple of efforts at starting a sentence, but in the end; Davarax’ shoulders sag slightly with defeat. “It’s just… not.”

“Why not.” She insists. Fine, Dulsissia can ask Decco, but she will at least know why the most skilled fighter in the Covert refuses to train her. He’d even called her Mandokarla once. “You don’t think I’m Mandokarla any more?”

When had she broken his faith in her? When she’d panicked over that storm trooper? Was that it? Mandalorians aren’t allowed to show fear?

“You are!” Davarax blurts out. “You definitely are. Mandokarla. You are.” He then sighs again and gestures faintly towards himself. “It’s me, okay? I’m the problem.”

“You?” She narrows her eyes suspiciously. How can he be the problem? He’s their best fighter.

“I’m too…” Davarax searches for the right word. “...invested.” He finishes, somewhat lamely, and his hand just drops to his lap.

Dulsissia snorts. “You’re training my son, your own kids, but you can’t train me?”

“You’re different.” Davarax mumbles, sounding awkward.

“Nonsense.” Dulsissia inches closer. “I want to learn and I want to learn from the best. Please? I’ll be a good girl and do everything the teacher says.”

Davarax makes an odd sound deep in his throat.

“I know you are busy and you’ve already helped me so much and it is incredibly selfish of me to put another burden on your shoulders,” Dulsissia confesses, feeling the taste of shame again, “but I trust you. And… I like spending time with you. No offense to Decco, she has been wonderful, but she’s not exactly… cheerful. Or especially fond of conversing. She threatened to glue my mouth shut yesterday and I honestly think she wasn’t joking.”

Davarax chuckles, sounding both resigned and fondly amused. “She wasn’t.” Then he hangs his helmet low for a moment or two before sighing yet again and looking over at Dulsissia. “Okay.”

Letting out a low squeal of delight, Dulsissia bumps her shoulder against his. “Thank you! You won’t regret this.”

Davarax makes a sound as if he’s not entirely convinced about that before he picks up the blaster pieces again and continues his work. “Tomorrow. Thirty minutes before I teach the kids.”

“Thirty minutes?” The man pushes the children far harder than that. “That’s it?”

“One, it’s your first lesson. We’ll be going over basics. Two,” Davarax’ t-visor turns to look at her, “I thought you were going to do what the teacher told you to do?”

Dulsissia puts on her sweetest smile and nods. “Thirty minutes. Before the kids. Yes, sir!”

Davarax sighs, how many times is that now in such a short while, and turns back to his blaster.

She meets up a little early, eager and wearing her finest skirt, ready to impress and become the best student Davarax has ever had. Dulsissia straightens her spine and gives him a bright smile when Davarax enters the training room.

He comes to a halt when he sees her, then clears his throat and continues to walk over to her. “You’re early. Good.”

Dulsissia tilts her head, still smiling. “Ready for training. As you can see.”

Davarax makes a non-committing hum.

She can’t keep it up any longer. Dulsissia reaches down, undoes the two buttons and lets her skirt fall to the floor to reveal the far more practical pants she’s wearing underneath. “Ha! Got you!”

He does the Davaraxian huff of a laugh and rewards her with a faint nod. “Funny. Very funny.”

Stepping out of the skirt before picking it up to fold it, Dulsissia rubs her successful prank in with a smug cackle. “I can’t believe you weren’t going to say anything. You’re so sweet.”

“I can’t believe that you don’t think I won’t get back at you for calling me out on it.” Davarax replies, crossing his arms and tilting his helmet in a challenging way.

Dulsissia grins, puts the folded skirt by the wall and trots over to stand in front of him without a hint of fear. “Whatever you got, my good Lord Davarax, I can take it.”

Davarax just looks down at her, breathes, and for some reason; Dulsissia’s heart does a flip.

Then the Mandalorian suddenly unfolds his arms, clears his throat and steps away to take up a position she’s seen the children start the day with.

“We’ll start with the basics. Just the basics. It’s going to be harder for you than the children because you’ve grown accustomed to your body in a way they haven’t had the time to yet, and you’re going to have to unlearn a bit of that plus replace some old reflexes with new ones.” Davarax says.

Dulsissia forces herself to focus and tries to copy the stance. “I’m ready to sweat. Show me.”

Davarax glances over at her, she can feel his gaze slide over her, then he nods.

Yeah, okay, Dulsissia is starting to understand why he’d been hesitant to agree to teach her. He’s an excellent teacher, explains things so well, but she’d failed to take into consideration how every single touch of his hands on her, despite the gloves, despite the layer of clothing, results in flares of heat, moments of complete distraction and a flush to her face that has nothing to do with the strain of the exercises.

She had complained about thirty minutes not being long enough, but after twenty five of them; Dulsissia resolutely sits down and lets out a loud, unladylike groan at the ceiling. Who could have known copying moves that Davarax makes seem easy would be this hard? And while Dulsissia had not considered herself to be out of shape, this has left her completely exhausted.

“Still five minutes left.” Davarax points out, standing next to her, sounding smug.

Dulsissia decides to wipe that smugness off his face. Fast as lightning, she flings herself over and grabs a hold of his lower leg with both of her hands, aiming to bring him down to her level, and she yanks with all of her might.

Nothing. It’s like trying to pull at an AT-AT. And Davarax just looks down at her.

Groaning, Dulsissia lets go and flops over to lie on her back. “It was worth a shot.”

Laughing, a low, warm sound, Davarax eases himself down to sit next to her. “It was cute.”

Cute? Dulsissia glares over at him. And before he realizes his mistake, she launches herself at him, climbs into his lap and shoves at his shoulders. Maybe she couldn’t topple him over on his feet, but surely she can knock him over like this?

No.

She’s not entirely sure how he does it, he moves too fast, he’s too strong, but suddenly she’s on her back on the floor and he’s hovering over her. His hands are pinning her wrists to the floor and a quick tug tells her she has absolutely no chance of getting loose. Dulsissia grins. “Also worth a shot.”

Davarax hums, deliberately not to touching her with anything but his grip on her wrists. “Be careful with your shots, Dulcy. You don’t want to end up like this with the enemy.”

Her face burns. She’s suddenly so very aware of him. “It doesn’t feel all that bad, to be honest.”

It feels like all of the oxygen in the room abruptly disappears, gravity gives up and the temperature sky-rockets. Neither of them move. The tension keeps growing and then…

Davarax looks over at the door and scrambles away from her half a second before the children come stomping into the room, chattering and eagerly anticipating today’s lesson.

Dulsissia closes her eyes and let out a long exhale, just as she hears;

“Mom…?”

It’s Din’s birthday. Dulsissia had overheard it by accident when Din had been talking to her son and he’d mentioned how he was counting down the years to when he would finally be allowed to put on the helmet.

She’d asked when he was having his birthday celebration so she could get a present for her son to give him and felt no small amount of horror when Din said there wasn’t going to be one. His parents had said there was no point so he assumed that meant no celebration.

Well, he was wrong about that.

As Din is more comfortable there, she arranges the birthday celebration in her and Corin’s room and invites the rest of Davarax’ children, plus the man himself. It’s a small thing, compared to the parties she used to throw, but it is a huge deal to Din. He shies a bit away from being the centre of attention, but with Davarax and Corin both encouraging him; Din ends up actually enjoying it a little.

And it is all worth it when a red-faced and awkward Din gives Dulsissia by his own free will a quick hug at the end of the day.

Dulsissia then has to hide a smile when Paz ‘innocently’ mentions how he has his birthday exactly one standard week after Din’s while they are seated at the table and devouring the sweets she’s made. (She’s getting pretty good at this baking thing. The fighting? Less so, but she’s improving.)

Paz’ father has a big celebration for his day, but while Dulsissia mostly observes it from the outside, she can’t help but to notice how, while it is in his name, very little is focused on Paz himself. It’s mostly about his father, adult food and strong spirits. Not much for a twelve year old to enjoy.

So she throws him a party in her quarters with the other children and their teacher like she’d done for Din. And Dulsissia feels her heart break yet again when, at the end of the day, Paz hugs her so tight he almost squeezes the air out of her.

Standing next to her, Davarax sighs as he watches Paz leave with the other kids in tow. “I didn’t really celebrate my own birthday much so I never thought about theirs. I let them down.”

“From what I’ve seen,” Dulsissia replies with a bittersweet feeling, “you are the only person in this place who hasn’t let them down.”

Davarax shakes his head. “Not entirely true, but thank you.”

She turns to face him, places her hand on the breastplate where she’d feel his heart if not for the armor. “You took them under your wings when everyone had given up on them. You didn’t just give them the abilities to survive that they are going to need, but your attention and kindness as well. You are those children’s entire world. And I don’t think they could have chosen a better man.”

Davarax reaches up and covers her hand with his. “Dulcy… Do you know what a kov’nyn is?”

She shakes her head. Her heart is going faster and faster.

“Find out.”

“How?”

Davarax does his trademark huff-laughter. “You’re a clever girl. You can do it.” He then lets go, says his goodbye to Corin, who sits on the bed and watches them with a far-too-knowing grin on his face, and gives a final bow to Dulsissia before leaving as well.

Flustered and a little breathless, Dulsissia walks over to clean up the last traces of the dinner.

“Mom.” Corin says.

“Mmh?” She replies, wondering if she can ask Decco what a kov’nyn is or maybe just try to find some sort of dictionary so she won’t have to trouble her all the time.

“Can we ask Din to stay here with us?”

Dulsissia gathers up the plates. “Baby, I don’t think Din’s parents would like that.” Unfortunately.

“He says they wouldn’t mind.” Corin replies. “Also, when you and Davarax become girlfriend and boyfriend, can I call him ‘dad’?”

Dulsissia straightens with a jolt and her face flares up so badly it hurts. “Go brush your teeth, baby.”

“But-”

“Go brush your teeth!”

The Tribe doesn’t have an abundance of datapads or old fashioned books. Most of their teachings are done verbally, but Decco is kind enough to ask around and two days later, a Mandalorian in an orange armor agrees to borrow Dulsissia something similar to a dictionary.

Too curious to wait until she is back in her room where Corin is getting ready for bed while she rushed out to get the book, Dulsissia stops in the middle of a hallway to look up the word. She’s dying to know what Davarax had hinted at, what he was trying to tell her and wanted her to know.

Turning the pages, Dulsissia finally finds the word. ‘Kov’nyn’! There it is!

A headbutt.

Dulsissia blinks. What? Excuse…? She vividly remembers the sight and not to mention the sound of Davarax headbutting that poor Mandalorian during his training and her eyes widen with startled surprise. What?! Was he going to do that to her during their next training? Oh, nonono, no way.

Just as she’s about to slam the book shut and declare that Davarax had been right; Decco might be a better teacher after all, Dulsissia almost accidentally reads more of the text.

Or: A kiss between couples when wearing armor.

Now she does slam the book shut and she’s finding it a bit hard to catch her breath.

Oh.

“I heard you were looking for a book on Mando’a.” A voice says behind her.

Making a startled sound, clutching the book close, Dulsissia spins around and is even more startled when she sees the golden armor and fur cloak.

It’s her. The leader.

“Yes. I, uhm,” Dulsissia awkwardly pushes a lock of her hair behind her ear, “I thought it was about time I learned a little more about… Mando’a. You have all been so kind to me.”

The leader looks at her and her body language is as impossible to read as her facial expression hidden by her helmet.

Dulsissia tries to smile.

“I also hear your son is making good progress in his training.”

Nodding, Dulsissia tries to hide how nervous she’s feeling.

“On his travels, Davarax has brought back many Foundlings. That is his Way and that is The Way.” The leader says. “But he has never brought back an outsider.”

Dulsissia loses the smile and she feels her shoulders sagging a little under the heavy weight of shame. “He… He was kind enough to save me from some horrible men.”

“Mmh.” Is the flat reply. “Are you going to take the Creed?”

Surprised, Dulsissia struggles to find the right answer. She’s been so busy trying to deal with the present that she hasn’t really planned her future. “I… I don’t know.”

That does not seem to impress the leader of the Mandalorians. “Then find your Way. Before you ruin his.”

Watching the Mandalorian walk away, Dulsissia isn’t entirely sure how she feels about this conversation. She’s getting the distinct feeling that this was a message for her to stay away from Davarax, but why? Surely the leader of a warrior tribe does not care about the love life of one of her soldiers? And what gives her the right? Rude.

Frowning, Dulsissia starts walking back to her room while the thoughts keep churning in her brain.

She doesn’t know what she’s going to do, not even when she walks over to Davarax’ door instead of her own and finds herself knocking on it. Dulsissia waits until he opens the door, says her name in a slightly confused tone, and then… she drops the book, reaches up with both hands to take a hold of the top of his breastplate and promptly pulls him down to thump her forehead to his helmet.

Ow.

Letting go, Dulsissia takes a step back and rubs her forehead. One eye closed, she stares at him in confusion. “I think you people got kissing a bit wrong. It’s not supposed to hurt, you know?”

Stunned, Davarax finally straightens back up and reaches out a hand to take a hold of her upper arm in case she falls over. “I don’t… That’s not how…” The Davaraxian laughter huff appears before he urges her to take the step back to him. “Can I show you?”

Dulsissia moves closer to him willingly enough, but she keeps rubbing her forehead and hesitates. “I’m not sure if I want another concussion.” Maybe she isn’t Mandokarla after all? She prefers softer things than headbutts from her date.

“Trust me?” Davarax asks in a quiet tone.

Sighing, Dulsissia lowers her arm. “Fine. But if I am knocked unconscious, you’re in charge of making breakfast to Corin tomorrow as an apology.”

“Deal.” Davarax murmurs, but in an absent way. His hands are already sliding up to cup her face and she shivers at the memory of them without gloves. “Close your eyes, Dulcy.”

Swallowing hard, she does. Suddenly she doesn’t care if he headbutts her into tomorrow as long as he doesn’t take his hands off her or stop talking.

“It’s mean to be gentle…” Davarax says, so soft and smooth, his hands tilting her head backwards, just a little, but enough so her body automatically arches against his. “It’s meant to be warm…” One hand moves to cup the back of her head, the other slides down to her lower back. “It’s longing…” Smooth beskar gently meets her now very warm skin and he eases her body close, so very close, until she’s firmly up against him with a very strong arm around her waist. “and it’s giving.” He tightens his grip around her.

Reaching up, Dulsissia’s fingers dig into the fabric on his upper arms, desperate to hold on to something so she doesn’t just swoon in his arms like a bad theatre actress.

Davarax lets out a soft exhale, it’s sounds almost like relief, and she can feel the muscles in his arm tightening a little more, his hand cupping her head and holding her there, as if she still isn’t close enough for him.

Time stands still. All she feels is heat, him and her own frantic pulse.

Breathless, far too warm for any decent explanation, Dulsissia reluctantly opens her eyes when he pulls away and shivers with disappointment when he lets go of everything but her hand.

“That’s what it’s meant to be like.” Davarax says.

“Oh.” Dulsissia manages. Okay, maybe everyone else had something to learn from Mandalorians.

It takes a visible effort for Davarax to make himself let go of her hand, for a second she can see the twitch in his shoulders when he stops himself from pulling her close again, but he lets go and now he is the one to take a step away. “Good night, Dulcy.”

“Good night.” She whispers, and it takes a visible effort for her to turn around, pick up the book with numb fingers and go over to her own room.

Stupid Mandalorians and their stupid headbutt kissing! Now Dulsissia can’t even look over at Davarax without feeling her face burn or be near him without having her heart to backflips all around her ribcage. This is making her life very frustrating!

And her only comfort is suspecting that Davarax isn’t faring much better either. Judging from how he walked into that table yesterday when she stretched out.

The training? Oh, it’s the sweetest torture ever.

She’s on her way to pick up Corin at Din’s room when a familiar piercing way of screaming catches her attention and Dulsissia doesn’t hesitate to run towards the sound.

Inside what looks to be school room with several pillows on the floor placed around a larger one. A group of scared children are huddled together in one corner while a Mandalorian who looks to be the teacher is restraining a fully feral Raga, with one big hand gripping her arm and the other hand is locked around her neck and preventing her from moving her head.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Dulsissia shouts, stalking in and shoving the Mandalorian away.

Once again surprise is on her side and the Mandalorian stumbles away, releasing the little girl and Dulsissia does not hesitate to crouch down and wrap her arms protectively around the flailing child. Pain flares when sharp teeth dig into Dulsissia’s arm and latch on.

“She’s completely feral!” The teacher shouts, pointing at Raga. “I’ve taught children, youngsters and foundlings alike, for decades and I’ve never met a child that feral! She’s hopeless!”

“What do you expect when you restrain her like a rancor? I’d bite you too!” Dulsissia shouts back at him. She gets up, hoists Raga in her arms, ignores the pain of the teeth still digging into her and marches out of the room with her.

She’s halfway to her quarters, Raga still hasn’t let go but at least she has stopped flailing and screaming and is just quietly twitching so that’s something, when a Mandalorian comes trotting with Davarax on his tail. They both come to a halt when they see Dulsissia carrying Raga.

“I was just coming to…” Davarax points helplessly in the direction of the classroom. “They said she…” He sighs at the sight and reaches out towards Dulsissia’s arm. “Here, I’ll try to-”

“No.” Dulsissia snaps, turning away to shield her arm and Raga from him. “I got her. I’m taking her to my room. You go tell Corin, he’s with Din, that I’m going to be late, and then you go get us Paz.”

Davarax seems a little surprised, but eventually he gives a nod and Dulsissia continues her march back to her room, giving a quick couple of pets to Raga’s back as she’s still twitching.

Once they are inside in the safety of her and Corin’s room, Dulsissia walks over to sit down on the bed. Raga is a bit larger than Corin, her thin frame doesn’t make her much heavier, but she’s taller and it takes a little arranging of her skinny legs and arms. Once they are settled, Dulsissia continues to run her hand up and down Raga’s back and just waits.

To her surprise, Raga lets go of her arm. And a few seconds after that, the girl quietly mumbles; “M’ sorry…”

Smiling, Dulsissia continues to stroke her back. “It’s okay, baby. I know you didn’t mean to.”

“He said I had to sit in the corner because I threw some thing at him.” Raga mumbles. “But I didn’t. It wasn’t me!” She starts to get agitated again. “I told him it wasn’t me and he said he was going to tell my parents I was a liar and have them punish me!”

Forcing her own anger away, Dulsissia strokes the girl’s back again. “I’m sorry he did that to you, sweetie. I’m sorry he didn’t believe you. That was wrong of him.”

“It wasn’t me…” Raga whispers.

“I believe you.” Dulsissia reassures her. And for the next ten minutes, she just holds her close, strokes her back and pets her hair. And anger quietly simmers inside.

Finally Davarax arrives and in his footsteps, Paz follows. He instantly darts by his teacher at the sight of Raga and the girl doesn’t hesitate to twist around to reach out to him.

Dulsissia gets up from the bed and watches Paz take her seat, pulling Raga close and lets her curl up on his lap. She almost disappears in his embrace. That boy is going to end up a giant if he doesn’t stop growing soon and yet he treats his friend with such mesmerizing gentleness.

“Your arm…” Davarax asks quietly, looking over.

“It’s fine.” Dulsissia replies. It aches like crazy and there will definitely be bruising, but that is not what is important right now. She looks over at him. “They called her a liar. They were holding her down like a rabid loth-cat. And they are surprised she bites?”

Davarax shakes his head. “I know…” He sounds pained and resigned. “The four of them are marked as troublemakers. If something goes wrong, if something could have gone wrong, they’re always blamed. And I can’t stop it.”

Dulsissia’s eyes narrow. “Stay here with the kids.”

“Where are you going?”

“I have to talk to someone.”

Dulsissia raps on the door with urgent haste and this time she doesn’t wait for the drowsy Mandalorian to speak before she asks; “Is he in?”

He is.

She knocks and then barges in to the room, startling Barthor into a defensive stance. Dulsissia ignores the tiny fists. “What I’m about to ask you can never be repeated. Do you understand?”

Barthor stares at her, slowly lowering his fists. “What?”

Dulsissia stalks closer and he backs up a step so she crouches down for them to be the same height. “I need you to do something for me and no one can ever find out.”

Barthor’s dark eyes slide from side to side, as if checking for hidden cameras. “Do… what?”

“I want you to make me a stink bomb.”

Snorting a laugh, Barthor shakes his head and walks over to sit on his bed. “I don’t know how to-”

“You know.” Dulsissia interrupts him. “Will you make me one?”

Barthor frowns, now suspicious. “Why? What are you going to do with it?”

Dulsissia raises an eyebrow. “I want to place it in the room belonging to man who teaches Raga’s class.”

That seems to make Barthor even more suspicious. “Why?”

“Because he’s a bully to Raga.”

Something flickers in Barthor’s eyes. “He was mean to Raga again?”

Again. The word hurts Dulsissia’s soul. If that man had been mean to her son, he wouldn’t have had the chance to do it ‘again’. She nods.

Barthor stares down at that floor for a little while, then he jumps to his feet and sighs. “Okay, give me ten minutes.”

It takes him eight to finish it. But he insists on joining her when she goes to plant the contraption.

“You might do it wrong.” Barthor informs her, gingerly easing it into a small bag.

Dulsissia rolls her eyes but follows him when he marches off towards their unsuspecting victim.

Once there, it’s clear it won’t be as easy as they hoped. The man is in his room.

“You distract him, I’ll plant it.” Barthor declares.

Dulsissia nods. “Be careful.”

Barthor smirks. And they go to work.

Knocking on the door, Dulsissia waits for the man to open it and then begins lecturing him on all the wrong ways to handle a sensitive child, not letting the man get a word in, and she barely catches the shadow of little Barthor sneaking by them and into the room.

She keeps her rant going, the man is too surprised and startled to do much than come with feeble objections, and the second Dulsissia sees the shadow sneak out by the man’s legs again, she finishes her speech.

“Good day to you, sir!”

Marching down the hallway, she rounds a corner and finds Barthor there. He looks up at her with a hint of respect.

“Not bad.” He says with grudging respect.

“You too.” Dulsissia replies, reaching out a hand and shakes his when he takes it. “But remember, no one can know.”

Barthor grins. “Don’t worry. No one is going to be able to to prove anything.” “Good.”

When the stink spreads in the man’s room, Dulsissia and Barthor has picked up Corin, and somehow Din ends up tagging along, and they are all safely in Dulsissia and Corin’s room, along with Paz, Raga and Davarax. Eating cookies.

And Barthor was right; nobody is ever able to prove who was behind it.

“Mom, are you sure we can’t ask Din to stay here?” Corin asks one morning.

Sighing, Dulsissia looks over at her sweet son. “I told you, baby. I don’t think his parents will like that. Is there something wrong? Is that why you keep asking?”

Corin, sitting on her bed, shrugs and looks down. “He doesn’t like it there.”

Clearly, as the child spends most of his time with them rather than his parents, but Dulsissia isn’t sure how Mandalorian adoption works. She’s fairly certain it would be frowned upon if she just started hoarding children from them. Otherwise, she would probably have had bunk beds and five children in this room. “I’m sorry to hear that, Corin. Has he tried to talk to his parents?”

Corin shakes his head. “He doesn’t like talking to them.”

Dulsissia has a sneaking suspicion that Din doesn’t like much, except Davarax and her son. At least he has excellent taste. “Do you think he’d like me to talk to them?”

Corin shakes his head again. “He won’t like it if he knew I’d told you.”

Figures. Dulsissia sighs. “Then I don’t know what we can do, baby. They are his parents. We are guests here.”

“Well,” Corin looks over at her, “at least he can come and visit as much as he likes?”

“Absolutely.” Dulsissia confirms. “And I’ll ask if he can stay over some time. Would that help?”

Her beautiful boy lights up with delight. “Really? You’re the best, mom!”

“Remember you said that when I tell you to clean up your toys.” Dulsissia declares.

Corin laughs.

It’s such a wonderful sound. He never used to laugh. He’s always been such a silent child, like Din, but the longer they have stayed here at the Covert; the more Corin has come out of his shell.

He no longer cowers behind her leg when they are in the common room with the other Mandalorians. He still flinches when someone raises their voice, but at least he doesn’t go pale and look like he’s about to pass out. He has friends. And there is a father figure whom Corin greets with joy and looks forward to spending time with, unlike his biological father.

Losing her dresses and servants is a price she’s more than willing to pay to see her son this happy.

There is just thing that could ruin everything. And considering it’s not just harmless flirting any more, Dulsissia decides it is time to tell Davarax.

She asks Decco to look after her son, which she grudgingly agrees to despite meaning the boy is old enough to look after himself, and then Dulsissia asks Davarax to meet her in Din’s hiding space.

“Well,” Davarax say as he steps over a piece of engine and barely manages to make his way over to where she’s sitting on a sofa pillow without falling or knocking himself unconscious against some metal part sticking out amidst the debris they are surrounded by, “this is romantic.”

“Sorry.” Dulsissia says, too nervous to be amused by the graceless way he tumbles down on the pillow next to hers. “I just wanted us to be able to talk in private.”

The tone of her voice makes him sit up and pay attention. “What’s wrong?”

“I want to tell you something.” Dulsissia says, sighing. “And I’m not sure how you’re going to react.”

“You can tell me anything.”

Oh, how she hopes that is true. Dulsissia takes a deep breath, looks down at her own hands as she wrings them nervously in her lap. She smiles a little when his hand moves over to cover them and stops her from hurting herself. Okay. Here goes. “I told you my name is Dulcy.”

“Yes?”

“It’s not.” She glances over at him. “Well, it kind of is. It used to be my nickname. My name is Dulsissia.”

Davarax gives a faint shrug. “Okay?”

“Dulsissia Motti. The man looking for me, his name is Macero Valentis. He is Corin’s father.” Dulsissia braces herself, turns her gaze down to his gloved hand over both of hers and dreads the moment it will withdraw.

Davarax’ voice is carefully neutral. “If you’re a Motti, surely your family will help you get rid of Valentis?”

Dulsissia’s smile is bitter and it hurts. “No. I stupidly defied them to marry him and I’ve been told that I have to lie in the bed I made.”

Davarax hesitates. “Would you like to go back your family?”

Looking over at the man by her side, unable to stop the tears from welling up in her eyes, Dulsissia shakes her head. “No. And they’re not my family. They don’t know what the words means.”

Davarax’ hand withdraws from hers, but only so he can gently cup the side of her face. “Mottis and Valentis, they don’t scare me if that’s what you were worried about.”

“Kind of.” Dulsissia admits, a tear slipping from her eye. “I have seen the destruction they can cause. I don’t want to bring it here.”

“We’re Mandalorians.” Davarax says, a slight grin in his voice. “We thrive on battle. It’s in our blood. And they would find us a lot more dangerous than any other opponent they’ve been up against in the past.” His thumb caresses her skin, wiping away her tear, and his voice softens. “They don’t matter. They’re in the past. You are here now. You’re Dulcy. And Corin is safe. You both are.”

It might not be Mandokarla, but Dulsissia doesn’t care; she leans over and he wraps his arms around her.

“As long as I breathe,” Davarax mumbles, holding her close, “you and Corin will always be safe.”

#the mandalorian his son and the storm trooper #Dulsissia Motti #Davarax #Baby Corin #Fearsome Four #Mandorin AU #What if

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sulphuryasecretcloset · 4 years ago

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What if...? Part 10a

Yes, it is 10a, because I said it would be 10 parts and not 11, so you will be getting the epilogue as 10b. HAH! ...Don’t look at me. T-T

What if Dulsissia hadn’t died, what if she had grabbed Corin and fled? What if she met Davarax? What if…

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9

Part 10a

For the first five hours after leaving the Covert, Davarax is out of it. Everyone draws a sigh of relief when his eyes open and he’s back with them again.

“Where are we going?” Din asks, frowning at the coordinates.

Davarax manages a faint smile, still sedated by pain. “Someone who can help us.” He then makes a face and presses his hand gently to the pressure bandage on his neck. “We just have to find her.”

Dulsissia realizes she doesn’t care where they go as long as that means they can get some medical supplies and patch him up properly. “Take it easy.” She uses her fingers to comb the dark locks of his hair back from his sweaty forehead. “We’ll find this person. Leave it to us.”

It takes them two days, but at least by then Davarax is able to stand up and walk a little, so when they land on some strange planet and find themselves surrounded by unfamiliar Mandalorians, he is the first to walk off the Razor Crest, hands in the air, and greets the leader. “Lady Kryze.”

He had warned them that these were Mandalorians who lived by a different Creed. Dulsissia and the children had all been surprised to hear there were Tribes out there with other rules than theirs, but mostly they are unsettled by Davarax telling them to keep Paz and Raga’s last names a secret...

A Mandalorian steps forward, removes their helmet and reveals red hair and suspicious eyes. “Davarax? Is that you?”

Exhaling a faint laugh, Davarax lowers his arms and sways a little, which makes Dulsissia and Paz dart over to grab an arm each to support him. “It’s me.”

The one called Kryze clicks her tongue and tilts her head. “I thought you guys weren’t allowed to remove your helmets?”

“We’re not.” Davarax confirms, still with a weak smile.

Another unfamiliar Mandalorian steps forward and crosses their arms. “You’re cuter than I thought.” It doesn’t sound like she means as a compliment.

Davarax nods with amusement. “Thanks.”

“Why are you here? What do you want?” Kryze cuts in.

“Safety.” Davarax replies. “I need a place to stay for a while.”

The woman doesn’t blink. “And what do I get?”

“Me.” Davarax states. “One standard year, I’ll work for you.”

Something about the woman’s eyes makes Dulsissia tense up. This Kryze person looks a little too pleased at that. A gentle, quizzical squeeze of Davarax’ arm gets no response. He just keeps locking eyes with the other Mandalorian.

Kryze is the one to break the staring contest and looks over at Dulsissia. “And this one? She’s not a Mandalorian.”

“Ner riduur.” Davarax replies.

The Mandalorian who had commented on his looks snorts a loud, surprised laugh. “You? You got married? You?”

“I fell in love.”

Dulsissia feels her face burn. Him once again confessing his feelings for her so openly makes her knees weak, but she also feels a little bad that he has to lie for her; they aren’t married yet. She fully intends to marry this man, but she prefers him to be conscious under the ceremony and Davarax has been out cold for most of the two days on the ship.

“And these are your children?” Kryze shifts her attention to Paz, then the others waiting, huddled together, on the Razor Crest’s ramp.

“Yes.” Davarax confirms without hesitation.

Kryze nods, thoughtfully, then sets her sharp stare on Davarax again. “One year.”

He nods.

“And you will follow my orders.” This is clearly not debatable. “For one year, your loyalty is mine.”

Davarax nods again.

Dulsissia feels the urge to object, fears what he is promising himself into, but what does she know? Other than to trust Davarax. So she holds her tongue and hopes she won’t regret it.

Kryze holds out an arm, pointing them towards a building. “Then, welcome home.”

It doesn’t take long before Dulsissia realizes that the people in this Tribe are very different from Davarax’ people. While the Covert had treated her with polite distance, the Mandalorians here eye her with open disdain and suspicion. She’s not one of them and they don’t like it.

Paz, Raga and Din all end up in vicious fights on their very first day. Corin latches himself to his mother’s arm and Barthor basically refuses to leave the room assigned to them. If not for the fact that they need medical help for Davarax and that he’s given his word to stay a year, Dulsissia would have demanded they’d leave by the third day. But, stuck in this place, temporarily, she grits her teeth and tries to make things easier for both the children and Davarax.

With a doctor and some bacta, the injury on Davarax’ neck soon turns into a scar, a reminder of how close she’d come to lose him, and he barely has time to recover before Kryze sends him out on his first mission.

After Davarax comes back, without new wounds despite the blood on his armor, Dulsissia feels such a relief that she clings to him throughout the entire night. Brushing light fingertips over his scar, she keeps her voice down so not to wake the children sleeping at the other side of the room. “Two people asked me today what I did to make you marry me. Three, yesterday. I think one of them accused me of being a Jedi and doing some mind-control-trick on you.”

Davarax shakes with mute laughter. “My little Jedi witch.”

She pokes him in the side with two fingers, making him jolt and hug her closer. Dulsissia settles again and rests her head on his chest, listening to his heart beat. “How come you never married?”

“You’re the first that made me want to get married.” Davarax replies with a calm ease, as if his words doesn’t make all kind of happiness radiate through her entire body. He’s looking up at the ceiling, half-asleep. “You’re the first who not only accepted my kids, but loved them, from the very start, and that made me think… we could be one. Made me want it.”

“I do love them. And I love you.” Dulsissia finds his hand and braids their fingers together. Be one. That sounds so right. “How do Mandalorian weddings work? Who does the ceremony? The Tribe leader?”

Davarax turns his head to look at her, suddenly a little eager. “We can do them now. The vows.”

“What?” Dulsissia lifts her head to look at him as well. “Here? In the middle of the night, with no witnesses?”

“A marriage is the ultimate union in Mandalorian culture. It’s about embarking on a future together as one, of sharing everything and raising warriors together. It doesn’t matter where you take the vows, what we care about is that they are kept.”

Dulsissia considers this for a moment, has an involuntary flashback to her huge, glamorous event that had locked her to Macero, and decides she likes the idea of making it all about them instead of a ceremony designed to impress everyone else. But, there is one thing Dulsissia will insist on; “I want the kids to be a part of it. This union includes them, after all.”

Davarax smiles at her, this beautiful smile that takes her breath away for a second, then he lies back down and stares up at the ceiling again. “And this is why I want to marry you.”

Smiling as well, Dulsissia curls up close to him and feels like a giddy teenager again.

That happy feeling is nowhere to be found the next day when she stalks into their room with frustrated tears in her eyes and pressing a hand to her aching ribs. Dulsissia waves a dismissive hand to Din, Barthor and Corin, who instantly jump to their feet to run over to her. “I’m fine.”

Luckily neither Paz or Raga are there to witness this, but Davarax is and he wont be waved away. He gently but firmly persuades her to let him examine her and asks what happened.

“It’s her again.” Dulsissia snaps, cringing with pain as his hand presses gently against her ribs. “The one with the big mouth. I was partnered with her during training today and she acted like she had some kind of personal problem with me.”

Din and Corin exchange frowning looks in the background. Barthor crosses his arms.

“No broken ribs.” Davarax concludes, sounding a little relieved, then looks at her face and frowns a little himself when he sees the bruising on her jaw. He lifts his hand and lets the back of his index finger barely brush over the bruise. “You want me to deal with her?”

“No.” Dulsissia snaps, increasingly angrier. “I don’t need you to handle my problems. I’m going to get even better at this hand-to-hand combat thing and then I’m going to punch that all-helmet-no-brain Mando in her face!”

Davarax takes a gentle hold of her chin and grins. “That’s my girl.”

Strangely enough a foul smell emerges in one particular living quarter and as no one can determine the cause, the woman living there is forced to move. But the smell sticks to her for two weeks.

“They say an Imperial officer is looking for a Mandalorian and a blonde woman.” Bo-Katan states, her t-visor showing Davarax and Dulsissia’s reflections as she stands in the doorway to their room. “I take it that is why you said you needed a safe place to hide?”

Dulsissia feels her stomach clench with unease. Macero… He’d found them? No. If he had, this place would be swarming with Imperial troops. Everything would be on fire. Like Nevarro.

“Is that a problem for you?” Davarax drawls, almost challenges her.

Bo-Katan removes her helmet and looks at him with a confident smirk. “Not at all. Let him come.”

Dulsissia shakes her head. “Don’t underestimate this man, Lady Kryze. He’s-”

“I know all about Macero Valentis.” Bo-Katan cuts her off. “And I’m not afraid of him.”

“Maybe you should be.” Dulsissia warns her. “Did you hear what he did to Nevarro?”

That makes the smile on Bo-Katan’s face widen. “Nevarro did not have our blasters, canons, ships and bombs.”

Dulsissia blinks. Oh. Okay, she’s starting to understand why Davarax insisted on taking shelter with these mean people. Maybe the only way to defeat Macero is to fight fire with fire?

Bo-Katan sends Davarax out on mission after mission. Dulsissia sees the exhaustion return to his face. It drives Dulsissia to train harder, push herself harder, and hopes to to become less of a burden and eventually a true partner that can help him carry the weight of their family.

Entering the room one day, his hands shaking after whatever horrors he’s been through, Davarax proudly declares a shipment of durasteel has been acquired and Lady Kryze has agreed to let him bring his share to their armorer.

Dulsissia watches with a faint smile when she sees Paz and Raga beam with pride as they are fitted with armor. She’s highly amused when Barthor keeps making demands for adjustments to his, and extremely pleased with the delighted looks on Corin and Din’s faces when they get theirs. By the rules of Davarax’ Covert, Corin and Din both should be wearing their helmets now, like Barthor still does, something especially Din had considered a milestone for his adulthood. However, the armor seems to be an acceptable replacement for the moment.

Especially as they know there will be battle soon...

On board his ship, Macero grits his teeth, fury boiling in his veins, and he turns away from where the holo-message from his field-officer had been played for him. How could they be losing? He had sent more than enough troopers to deal with these cretins, so how could they be losing?

Mandalorians are a dangerous breed, he’s come to learn that after chasing them across the Galaxy in the hunt for his wife, but his troopers are highly trained soldiers with the best equipment possible. There is no way they can be losing to these dirt-dwellers!

Macero knew there was a chance this was a trap when news of a blonde woman observed with Mandalorians on this planet reached him, after not hearing a single whisper about his wife’s location for so long, but so what? He had the soldiers and firepower to deal with whatever these people tried to throw at him. Macero is not afraid of some arrogant Mandos.

The three officers in the communication room eye him nervously and Macero suddenly can’t stand their cowardly faces. “I will be in my office. Let me know if there are any more messages.”

Marching to his office, Macero hears the sound of battle on the ground and makes a silent vow that any trooper who retreats back to the ship is to be shot for cowardice. There is no way they are losing. He doesn’t care how bloody the cost will be; the Mandos will pay even more. He will wipe them from this planet.

Macero takes two steps into his office then comes to a halt. His chair is pointing the wrong way. Its back is towards the door. And he didn’t leave it like that.

The door closes behind him.

Looking back, Macero takes a startled step forward when he sees a tall, blue armor and blue helmet wearing Mandalorian standing there.

The sound of the chair turning makes Macero turn back as well and he’s surprised to see another blue armor and blue helmet wearing Mandalorian is sitting his his chair. A smaller one. “What is this?” Macero snaps angrily. “What do you want?”

“Your head on my wall, would be the honest answer.” The one in the chair replies. “But I don’t ever want to see your face again, so… I guess I’ll settle for your life.”

Macero frowns. It can’t be. It’s not possible.

The Mandalorian gets up from the chair. “I told them you were too clever to fall for a trap this obvious. They told me you were too arrogant to resist.” The blue helmet is removed and Dulsissia looks at him with a faint, mocking smile. “Knowing you and your ego, I agreed to try.”

She no longer looks like the frail girl he once knew, not the pretty decoration he wanted but a half-wild creature. Macero’s mouth tightens with disgust. “Where is my son?”

“He’s not here.” Her eyes are as cold as Antonia’s. The old hag would have been proud to witness this. She never liked Macero. “You will never see Corin again.”

“He’s my son.” Macero grits out. “And you are my wife. You two belong to me.”

Dulsissia’s soft laugh is pure mockery. “We don’t belong to you. And you are nothing to us.”

Enraged by her daring to talk to him like that, Macero casts a quick glance back at the Mandalorian blocking the door. “Because of this one? You think you can just take my son away and replace me with the first lumbering oaf tempted by you flashing your ankle?” Macero looks back at Dulsissia. “You better not be carrying his bastard child.”

“After Corin was born, I got the chip. I never was and I never am going to give you any more children to torment.”

“You think I care about you want? You think I will let a spoiled Motti girl ruin my plans?” Macero has never been this furious before. His blood is so hot it almost hurts in his veins. “Your little adventure is over, Dulcy. We’ve wasted enough time on your childish antics. You are coming home. Now.”

He backhands her across the face, hopes she feels it like he did the insult of her getting that damn chip behind his back, draws his blaster with his other hand at the same time and fires back at the Mandalorian.

Dulsissia is not prepared and the surprise of the impact knocks her off balance more than the pain. Still, she moves with it, uses the momentum to spin away to get some distance between them and get her helmet back on.

The HUD is still a bit confusing to her, but she knows the value of the protection the helmet offers. (Davarax had given up pieces of his own armor to have the beskar remade into helmets for them and she had cried over him having to sacrifice even more for their family.)

Davarax is forced to move in order to dodge the shots Macero fires at him and he draws his own weapon, but because of where Dulsissia is standing; he doesn’t fire back, unwilling to risk hitting her.

This buys Macero enough time to activate his communication link and demand back-up.

Dulsissia knows most of the men in her family are officers in the Imperial army because their names and fortune ensured it, but Macero had worked his way up and he is far from helpless.

He unfortunately proves it as he ducks under the punch Davarax throws at him, turns and delivers a hard kick at the side of Davarax’ knee, making him buckle. Macero keeps turning and fires his blaster at Dulsissia, forcing her to take cover behind his desk.

Davarax throws himself forward, plants his shoulder into Macero and manages to slam him into the wall, but that results in them being locked together while trying to pummel the other into submission and Dulsissia being the one not willing to shoot this time in case she’d hit Davarax.

And moments after that, the door to the office slides open to let a wave of storm troopers rush in.

It becomes chaos. And fear jolts through Dulsissia when she hears Macero call out the order for them to kill the Mandalorian but not harm her. Davarax is the best fighter she’s ever seen, but some times quality is forced to break under quantity. She stalks forward, picks up a blaster one of the now fallen troopers had lost, and she begins to fire with a weapon in each hand at every target her HUD identifies as hostile and absently marvels at the strength and agility of the man she loves as Davarax comes at the enemy with brute strength.

A warning flashes across her HUD and Dulsissia manages to side-step Macero’s attempt to slam the back of a blaster rifle at her helmet. She lifts the stolen blaster but he knocks it out of her hand instead and when she lifts her own blaster, another warning flashes across her HUD. This time she’s not fast enough to avoid it; Macero’s right hand locks around her throat and cuts off her air.

Automatically grabbing at his arm with her free hand, Dulsissia feels the ground disappear under her feet as he lifts her up and then her back slams down on his desk. Macero hovers over her with a furious expression on his face.

“You foolish girl.” He sneers with fury and disgust. “What did you think would happen? That I would give up? That you and your simpleton would live happily ever after? Stupid, stupid girl. Your blood is far too important to me. I will never let you go. And I will find my son too. Believe me.”

She does.

The blaster shot is muffled due to the weapons muzzle pressing against its target, but Macero jolts and his eyes grow wide as he stares at her. His anger is replaced with shock and disbelief.

For a couple of heartbeats, as Dulsissia looks into Macero’s eyes, she remembers how his smile used to make her blush, how he would encourage her to talk and be the only one in her life who bothered to listen when she did, how incredibly gentle his hand was on her skin for their first kiss, and while that man never truly existed, she still says goodbye.

Macero slowly tilts to the side, his hand letting go of her throat, and he simply drops to the floor. His blood is on her armor, on her blaster and her hand. And yet, as Dulsissia draws a shivering breath, she feels free.

Her son is safe.

Sitting up, coughing, Dulsissia lifts her blaster and picks off two storm troopers aiming to fire at Davarax as he’s dealing with one of their comrades. “Dav. Let’s go.” She uses the internal communication system.

“It’s done?” His voice replies.

“It’s over.” Dulsissia deliberately does not look over at the fallen Macero. “Let’s go.”

“You got my back?”

“Always.”

Instantly barging towards the door, Davarax takes several hits to his armor, almost staggers due to the reduced efficiency of durasteel instead of beskar, but it’s not enough to stop him, and Dulsissia quickly makes her way over to cover their backs. He pushes forward for them to escape, she keeps them safe while he creates a path down the hallway.

Once they climb the stairs to the second floor of the ship, followed by troopers, Davarax makes a pleased sound when he sees the door Dulsissia had been talking about and sets course for it.

While it was the men of her family who got to be military officers, Dulsissia had spent plenty of time on imperial ships after Macero started to court her and she knows their lay out like the mansion on Seswenna. This door will lead outside, to a narrow path along the ship’s side originally meant to be used in case of repairs, but with the ship currently hovering inside the planet’s atmosphere; it is perfect as an escape route. And as more and more troopers join the ones already chasing them, they need one.

Davarax opens the door and a powerful gust of wind rushes in as they are high above ground. He looks back at her.

Dulsissia keeps firing her blaster at the stairway, forcing the storm troopers to duck down. “Go.”

Davarax nods, steps forward, vaults over the railing and disappears.

Grabbing a grenade from her belt, Dulsissia activates it and throws it down the stairs before going back to firing her blaster again. A trooper gets off a lucky shot that punches into her breastplate and while the durasteel is strong enough to prevent the shot from penetrating, it still hurts like dank farrik.

The explosion from the grenade causes enough chaos that Dulsissia dares to holster her blaster and make a run for it. She hears the troopers shouting, her HUD flashes a warning as a blaster shot goes by her head, but Dulsissia keeps running, climbs the railing in two steps and takes a leap of blind faith into the open air.

Gravity takes a hold. She falls and reaches out one hand. Despite her HUD frantically flashing that she’s in danger, Dulsissia feels no fear. Two seconds later, Davarax’ hand grabs her wrist and she instantly takes a hold of his, letting him pull her up so she can get her arms around his torso and he gets his other arm around her waist while his jetpack holds them steady and prevents them from plummeting to their deaths.

Behind them, seven storm troopers follow through the door and spread out along the pathway to aim their blasters and are about fire when twenty Mandalorians fly up from below the ship to aim their weapons back at the troopers.

“Your ground troops have already surrendered. I have Mandalorians infiltrating the ship as we speak. Do you want to follow your leader into the after life?” Bo-Katan asks them.

It doesn’t take long before the storm troopers cautiously lower their weapons and signal their surrender.

“Are you sure I can’t persuade you to stay?” Bo-Katan asks as they are loading up the final items to the Razor Crest. “I appreciate a warrior like you on my team. We might even be able to hunt down some more beskar.”

“I am grateful for you letting us stay, but it is time we move on now.” Davarax replies. “I think we all yearn for a little freedom. And you have an imp ship, a bunch of new weapons and enemies to get information out of. I’m sure you won’t have time to go beskar hunting any time soon.”

“Well, if you change your mind, you know where to find us.” Bo-Katan declares.

Davarax nods and holds out his hand.

With a wry smile, she takes it. “At least you’re out from underground. There’s hope for you at least.”

“Careful, Lady Kryze.” Davarax says, releasing her hand. “My Covert’s determination and dedication is unmatched. Who knows, maybe one day the next Mandalor might come from there.”

“Yeah. Sure.” Bo-Katan says with mock-seriousness. She then glances over at where Dulsissia is smothering Corin, Din and Paz in a group-hug, trying to make them forgive her for refusing them to join in the fight. “She didn’t do too bad today. There might be hope for her too.”

“She’s Mandokarla.” Davarax declares with badly hidden pride.

Bo-Katan hums, clearly not entirely sold. “She talks too much.”

Laughing a little, Davarax heads over to the ship. “Goodbye, Lady Kryze.”

“Mom?” Standing in the cockpit of the Razor Crest as she is brought to life, Corin glances over at Dulsissia, and he looks so grown up and handsome in his armor that she wants to squeeze his face between her hands and plant kisses all over aforementioned face. “Where are we going now?”

Settling for reaching out and gingerly arranging a lock of his dark hair doing its best to poke up high enough to pick up a radio signal, Dulsissia smiles. “We’re going to visit someone.”

Din plots in the coordinates while Davarax has settled in the left passenger seat and is tinkering on his vambrace. The teen frowns as he sees what comes up and looks back at them. “Is this correct?”

Dulsissia’s smile widens. “Absolutely.”

Corin goes pale.

“So he’s dead?” Antonia Motti says as she enters her office. “Good. One less problem to deal with in this family.” She pauses as she sees the armored people in the room and gives one slow blink before she reaches up to her ear. “I will talk to you later.” Antonia switches off the device in her ear and lifts a dry eyebrow. “I don’t know how you lot managed to break in here, but I can assure you that you will never leave this place alive.”

Dulsissia removes her helmet and forces herself to smile. “Hello mother.”

Antonia doesn’t visibly react, merely scans her from top to toe and back up again. “You look awful.” She walks over to her desk and sits down, forcing Dulsissia to turn around to look at her. “I hear your husband is dead. I can’t say I shall mourn his absence.” “That makes two of us.” Dulsissia replies.

“Why are you here?” Antonia asks, keeping her calculating stare on her daughter and ignoring everyone else in the room. “Have you come to your senses and returned to stay? I will let your friends leave with a nice reward for bringing you home.”

Shaking her head, Dulsissia hangs on to her smile out of spite. “No. I’m not here to stay. I just stopped by to pick up some of my things before I leave for good.”

Antonia frowns a little, but she’s clearly not surprised. “You continue to disappoint me.” She sighs and shakes her head as if her daughter is a lost cause. “Where is my grandson?”

Dulsissia gestures to one of the figures.

Stepping forward, removing his helmet, Corin watches Antonia warily. “Hello.”

Antonia scans him as well and seems a little more pleased with what she sees. “No longer a timid child, but a young man. You’ve grown a lot since I saw you last, Corin.” She scans him again. “You don’t have to go with your mother, you know. If you want to, you can stay here, with me. As a Motti you will never starve, never lack for anything, and everyone will respect you.”

Corin swallows hard. “Thank you, but I’m going with them.”

Antonia makes a thoughtful hum. “That is a shame. But there is always a place for you here, Corin. Remember that.”

He nods.

Turning her attention back to Dulsissia, Antonia purses her lips with disdain. “So now what? You are going to traipse around the Galaxy looking like a half-wild woman? Dragging your innocent son with you. With these…” She waves a hand at the others. “People?”

“Yeah.” Dulsissia replies, with every bit as much arrogance as Antonia radiates. “I want him to experience what a real family feels like.” She puts her helmet back on and walks over to the door before she looks back at her mother again. “We’ll be leaving now. I suggest no one follows us.” Dulsissia hesitates before adding; “I just wanted to say goodbye.”

“That’s a nice change as last time you just took off without a word.” Antonia snipes. “And don’t fool yourself, you will be back, Dulsissia. Without Macero, the lure of our world will bring you back.”

Realizing that her mother does not know her at all, Dulsissia huffs a soft laugh. “Goodbye.”

“Are are we landing?” Dulsissia was on her way up the ladder to the Razor Crest’s cockpit when Din appears and blocks her path. “It feels like we’re landing. Why are we landing?”

Din’s eyes flicker. “We, uh, the ship, it… “

“Repairs!” Raga shouts from above.

“Yeah!” Din latches on to it like the word is a life raft. “Repairs. We have to do some repairs.”

Dulsissia frowns. Repairs? There is nothing wrong with the ship. It was fully operational when they left Bo-Katan’s Covert and it hasn’t been in any combat or stressful situations since.

She looks over at Barthor sitting on the seat next to the ladder, but he just shrugs and that puzzles her a little. Usually he is the first to pick up on odd stuff. But if he’s not worried, maybe she shouldn’t be either? “Okay…” Dulsissia draws out her reply, especially as Din is not budging, strategically placed so she won’t be able to get by him.

When she slowly withdraws, Din watches her with a smile so fake she could cry.

But Corin and Paz are still slouching in their seats in the cargo hold and also show no anxiousness or suspicion whatsoever, so Dulsissia reluctantly gets back in her seat.

Only then does Din disappear. But, she is willing to bet he’d pop up like a bill collector if she approaches the ladder again.

What is going on?

The Razor Crest shudders and shivers a little before they feel it touch ground and settle.

Dulsissia is first in line when the ramp starts to lower itself, doesn’t even wait for Davarax and the others to come down from the cockpit, too curious to see where they are.

The sight stuns her.

Walking down the ramp, Dulsissia studies the surroundings, overwhelmed by the beauty. And when she eventually steps off the ramp and her feet touch soft soil and carries her out among the endless ocean of flowers stretching out as far as her eyes can see, she can’t hold back a dazed laugh. It is so incredibly beautiful! Millions and millions of flowers covering the surface in every direction under the bright teal sky.

Her heart is racing, it’s almost difficult to breathe, and she can’t stop smiling. She has never seen anything like this. She didn’t know anything like this even existed.

A sound behind her reminds Dulsissia that she’s not alone and she turns around to how the others are reacting to this amazing view, but is hit by another heart-stopping sight when she sees Davarax standing there, the kids huddled together behind him, and he’s holding out both of his hands to offer her the most exquisite looking blaster she’s ever seen.

The metal is shining silver, the design delicate and yet practical, and on the hilt is what has to be insanely expensive gem stones creating the shape of a beautiful plom bloom.

“Will you take the vows with me here?” Davarax asks, a little nervous and very hopeful.

Dulsissia has to cover her mouth with her hand for a second as her eyes well up with tears and an ugly bawl threatens to escape her lips. Once she feels she has herself back under control, despite some tears escaping as she tries to blink them away, Dulsissia nods. “Yes…”

“Yes?” Davarax dares to take a step closer.

Laughing and sobbing at the same time, Dulsissia nods. “Yes.” And she laughs and cries a little more when the kids break into loud cheers, numbly accepting the blaster and eagerly curls into the hug Davarax pulls her into.

She has to hold on to him, lean on him, for a moment or two, to once again regain some composure, but finally Dulsissia leans back and sniffles a little.

Davarax does his huff-laugh and gently wipes a tear away from her face. “You okay?”

She nods, taking a step away, wiping her face with her lower arm. “I’m fine.” Dulsissia awkwardly pats her hair and tries to shape it into something less wookiee-ish with one hand as she won’t let go of the blaster. “How do we…?”

Davarax takes her hand, makes her give up on her hair and focus on him. “You sure you want to do this? One. In this life and the next. Are you sure?”

Exhaling, grounding herself, Dulsissia meets his eyes with calm and soft happiness. “I am.”

Obviously relieved, Davarax nods. Then he has to take a breath before teaching her the words, one by one, what they mean both literally and spiritually, how they link to his Creed and what being married to a Mandalorian means.

Dulsissia listens, learns and decides this is all something she can accept and even embrace. It just feels right. She feels at peace as well as flushed with excitement that they are going to do this.

And them, amidst millions of flowers, with Corin, Din, Paz, Raga and Barthor as approving witnesses, Dulsissia and Davarax takes the vows.

Mhi solus tome. We are one together. Mhi solus dhar'tome. We are one when parted. Mhi me'dinui an. We share all. Mhi ba'juri verde. We will raise warriors.

For a moment, maybe it is just the bright sky playing tricks on her, Dulsissia could have sworn Davvarax’ eyes shimmer a little wet, but then he pulls her close and kisses her so sweetly she barely hears the kids cheering again.

They are on their fourth kiss when Dulsissia realizes the children are now running back and forth between them and the ship and a glance behind Davarax reveals they are setting up a celebration feast of sweets, cookies and other treats, carefully placed across a blanket on the ground.

She looks up at Davarax with a soft gasp. “You guys have planned this for ages!”

Davarax shrugs, trying to look guilty and failing because of the pleased smile on his lips. “I needed help to find the perfect place. And putting the blaster together. And getting the food. And… everything, really. I couldn’t have done it without them.”

Tearing up again, Dulsissia drags him down for a fifth kiss before dragging him over to the blanket. “Ooooh, this looks so nice!” She waves a finger at Barthor. “Make sure you put some aside for you, baby. Don’t make me angry on my wedding day.”

Barthor ducks his head down and makes a pleased and embarrassed huff. “Okay.”

They all settle down on the blanket. Raga slaps Paz over the fingers as he aims to grab the first cookie, declaring Dulsissia and Davarax gets to choose first. Sulking, he agrees.

Dulsissia makes sure not to touch the cookie he wanted. Davarax does the same. Which means she has to kiss him again.

“So…” Corin says, sitting on Davarax’ other side, not by his mother for once. “So now that you two are, like, married… With you married to my mom…”

Chewing on a cookie, Davarax glances over at him. “Mmh?”

“Does that mean I call you ‘Dad’ now?” Corin asks just as Davarax swallows.

Choking, coughing, wheezing, Davarax ends up grabbing a bottle of water and takes a swig from it, aware of how not only Corin, but everyone is looking at him. His spouse included.

Lowering the bottle, Davarax gets rid of the final couple of coughs still lingering before putting the bottle down again and Davarax focuses on Corin to speak the truth. “That’s entirely up to you, Corin. If you want to call me that, I would be honoured. If you want to keep calling me ‘Davarax’, that is perfectly okay. This is your choice, not my decision, and I promise that whatever you choose is fine with me.”

Dulsissia discretely slides her hand over and takes a hold of Davarax’ hand between them.

Corin frowns as he looks down at the blanket, considering things. “I always wanted a dad. My father was… my father. I read about dads and they were not like him. Dads in the books were more like…” He glances back at Davarax. “They were like you. I would like to have a dad like you.”

“And I would be proud to have you as my son.” Davarax replies in a gentle voice.

Embarrassed but so very happy, Corin dives in and wraps his arms around Davarax.

Placing his own arm around Corin, hugging him close, Davarax then leans down and quietly murmurs: “Corin. Ni kar'tayli gai sa'ad “

#the mandalorian his son and the storm trooper #what if #Dulsissia Motti #Davarax #Teenager Corin #Fearsome Four #Mandorin AU #Sugar warning for the epilogue

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sulphuryasecretcloset · 4 years ago

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What if...? Part 7

So, vote came in with an overwhelming landslide for two parts instead of a giant part 7. Too bad you’re getting a giant part 7 and a part 8 and... I’ve given up. Whatever the final number pf parts this ends up on, it’ll end up on. You lovely LOVELY enablers are just adding fuel to the fire. Your comments and reblogs are such an inspiration, thank you! <3 <3

What if Dulsissia hadn’t died, what if she had grabbed Corin and fled? What if she met Davarax? What if…

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

Part 7

“I’m not entirely sure I’m comfortable with this.” Davarax drawls after Dulsissia had dropped off Corin for training and Barthor has to be called over twice by Paz before he’ll stop talking to her.

Dulsissia gives Davarax her sweetest smile. “I’m just being a good influence on him.”

Davarax hums, crosses his arms and turns to watch Paz drill the others through the warm-up before the training can begin.

Fighting back a laugh, Dulsissia turns her focus to the children as well and she tilts her head slightly when she sees Paz correct Corin’s posture and awarding him for getting it right with a nod and a pat on the head before moving on to Din, who seems a little jumpy today and Paz wraps his arm around him while saying something that has Din nodding and his shoulders relaxing a little. “Davarax?”

“Mmh?”

“Has Paz always been so protective of them?” Dulsissia has observed him with other kids in the Covert and usually Paz radiates hostility and tends to behave like he’s superior to them all. She’s seen him be downright rude. Very different from how he is with the rest of Davarax’ children.

“Towards Raga, yeah,” Davarax replies, “but Din is what knocked him into a complete parental tip-yip towards anyone he deems a member of his group.”

Feeling another soft rush of emotion, Dulsissia glances over at the Mandalorian next to her. “Truth be told, considering how his father behaves,” Dez Vizla had not impressed her with his manners during Paz’ birthday and revealed where the boy has his occasional arrogance from, “I’m amazed he knows how to be this sweet. I haven’t met his mother yet, is that who he takes after?”

Davarax doesn’t answer right away. He shifts his weight uneasily and uncrosses his arms to cross them again with a different arm on top. “Paz’ mother walked out on him and his father two days before Paz turned five years old. She left the Tribe to be with some guy who owned some shipping company. It’s not something we talk about out loud, so… don’t.”

Stunned, Dulsssia cannot believe what she’s hearing. “She left her son behind?”

“She wanted a fresh start and leave the Mandalorian life behind.” Davarax replies, uncomfortable.

Realizing she’s standing there with her mouth open, Dulsissia shuts it and turns back to stare at the children. The idea of leaving Corin behind when she planned to escape from Macero had never once entered her mind. Dez Vizla does not appear to be as cruel as Macero, but still…

This time Dulsissia stays in the room when they train, curled up comfortably in a corner and dividing her attention between the Mando’a dictionary and the children. She’s feeling lazy today and just wants to be near her son and the ones who has become so very dear to her.

Despite the fact that Davarax is teaching them to fight, the mood is so light and the air is so filled with comfortable belonging that Dulsissia finds herself relaxed and time just flies by.

She’s almost a little sad when Davarax calls for the end of the session.

Getting up on her feet, stretching a little, Dulsissia adores the sight of Corin huddled up with the other children and talking with nothing but excitement and happiness in his eyes. She is a little surprised when he comes running over to her, usually she has to drag him out of the room, but he quickly reveals why.

“Mom, Barthor is going to show us this machine he made in his room. Can I go? Can I?”

“I’ll walk Corin back.” Paz promises.

“Me too.” Din pipes up.

“Me too!” Raga shouts.

Laughing, Dulsissia looks down at her big-eyed boy and tries to put on a strict face. “Food in one hour.”

Nodding so eagerly it has to hurt, Corin darts over to the other children at superspeed, before she has the chance to change her mind. “Let’s go!”

The group trample out of the room like a herd of wild tauntauns and she saunters over to the man left behind. “Looking at the stuff you have them doing, I feel like giving up. I’ll never be that good,” Dulsissia confesses with a smile.

Davarax bends down to pick up up a towel from the floor. “You will. Just give it time. And do the work.” He makes a displeased grunt when he straightens back up and rolls his right shoulder in an irritated manner.

“What’s wrong?” Dulsissia asks, instantly worried. It’s not a sound she’s heard from him before.

“Nothing.” Davarax sighs and rolls his shoulder again. “Just my shoulder acting up. I pushed things a little too hard during Fighting Corps training yesterday.”

Dulsissia knows there is not much she can do for this far too capable man who saved her and her son and keeps showing them so much kindness, but maybe she can ease his pain a little? “Sit.”

Davarax looks over at her, confused. “What?”

“Sit.” Dulsissia repeats, pointing at the floor to underline her order.

He hesitates, but then slowly sinks down to sit on the floor. “Why…?”

“This,” Dulsissia taps a finger to the armor on his shoulder, “pauldron, is it? Off.”

Still visibly confused, Davarax reaches up and detaches the pauldron. “Dulcy, what are you-”

“I’m no expect, but… I do know how to ease tense muscles a bit.” Dulsissia refuses to think about why she knows how to rub out muscles tense after hours of a rigid posture in uniform. Another stupid thing she’d thought might bring them closer together back then. “Let me know if it hurts too much.”

“I think I can take it.” Davarax replies without trying to hide his amusement.

“I know you can, that’s not why should tell me.” Dulsissia gets on her knees behind him so she reach his shoulder and starts feeling around to get the correct grip before she starts massaging. “I want you to tell me because I don’t want to hurt you. And suffering through the hurt in this case wouldn’t achieve anything. It’s just silly. You don’t become a better fighter by putting yourself through pointless pain, my good Sir. It’s just-”

“Silly.” Davarax says, still horribly amused.

“Yes. Exactly.” Dulsissia pushes a little harder and finds where she can feel a tight tendon. All the layers of his underarmor makes it a bit difficult, but she starts to work on it. “I don’t know why some thinks it is cool to pointlessly ignore pain. I get why you might have to in a fight, but this? It’s so-”

“Silly.” Davarax concludes, half-laughing.

“Yes!” Dulsissia declares, giving his shoulder a light slap.

In a flash, Davarax twists, gets his right arm around her waist and hoists her forward and around to land across his lap, her back cradled by his left arm. “Hitting people in the shoulder causes pain, you know?”

Initially startled by the abrupt change of her position, Dulsissia relaxes in his grip and gives him a sweet smile. “You can take it.”

“Hmm.” Davarax hums. “I’m not sure. I’m a delicate soul.”

She giggles. Dulsissia can’t believe she giggles yet again, but being around him… It’s like forgetting all the bad stuff in her life and just being hopeful again. “In that case, how can I make it up to you?”

“I have a couple of ideas.” Davarax replies, his low voice a sweet caress.

Curious and a little giddy, Dulsissia lowers her eyelashes in a coy move she hasn’t used since… ages ago. “I’m listening…”

“One, spend a couple of hours with me tomorrow. Just you and me. No kids. No interruptions.”

Dulsissia feels heat rising in her face. She can’t think of a better way to spend a couple of hours. And considering that Corin spends most of his time with Din or the other kids these days, he probably won’t mind it much if his mother is too busy to hover. “Okay. We can do that. A-and what’s the second idea?”

“My second idea…” Davarax’ right hand moves up to slide behind her neck and he bends down so his t-visor hover right in front of her face. “A kiss to make it better?”

Her heart flutters like crazy. Dulsissia is fairly certain her face is approaching a rather unflattering shade of red by now. “We can do that too…”

“Yeah?” Davarax’ hand caresses her neck.

Dulsissia swallows, already a little breathless. “Yeah.”

She feels his left arm tightening behind her back, lifting her a little up and against him, at the same time as Davarax’ right hand moves up to cup the back of her head. A couple of months ago, she might not have seen the point of a simple forehead touch, but now? Now that she slides her own arms around his neck and meets him halfway, the two of them holding on and curling up together like one, feeling them breathe together, betting even their hearts are beating in synch, she can only pity her old self.

Lifting her feet, Dulsissia tries to make her way from the kitchen area over to the refresher without stepping on a child. All of Davarax’ children are currently present in her and Corin’s quarters and they lying on their bellies on the floor, entirely focused on a boardgame Paz had brought. Dulsissia glances down at the boardgame as she manoeuvrers her way through the minefield of children. It appears as if Din is giving Barthor a run for his credits. No wonder he looks so grouchy.

Well, there is one child not lying on the floor and that is Raga, who has clearly lost interest in the game and is merely sitting on Paz’ lower back while braiding some cloth into yet another hair tie to her growing collection.

Dulsissia almost makes it to the refresher, knowing she’s going to need the time to do her hair and try to make herself look good, when there is a knock on the door.

Sighing, seeing how none of the children are going to open the door, even her sweet Corin is too busy cozying up with Din to notice, Dulsissia enters the minefield yet again and struggles her way over to the door.

Huffing, she pushes the hair out of her face just as she presses the button and the door slides open to reveal Davarax.

“Oh.” She blinks surprised. He’s not supposed to be here for another hour. “I thought…”

Davarax sighs and looks down. “Listen, there’s been a change of plans.”

Dulsissia can tell from the tone of his voice that it isn’t good news. She absently crosses her arms and braces herself. “What’s happened?”

He doesn’t lift his visor. “Nevarro is not our only Covert. We have several. And we keep creating new ones, to have room for more people and in case of emergencies.”

This makes sense to Dulsissia, so why does his words make her body tense up?

“She’s sending me and someone else to a new location to eliminate a threat and set up a new Covert.” Davarax finishes.

So, he’s going away again. Dulsissia feels a heavy weight of disappointment drop into her stomach but she forces herself to keep a brave face on. “It’s for the good of the Covert. I understand.” She clears her throat. “How long… do you think it will take?” Two weeks? Three? More?

“Six months.” Davarax replies, lifting his t-visor to look at her at last. “If everything goes according to plan.” But the tone of his voice also says he has no faith in that happening. He sounds… tired.

“That’s…“ Dulsissia has to clear her throat again. “Okay. When are you leaving?”

“Tomorrow. We’re starting preparations now.” Davarax shakes his head. “That’s not the worst.”

Now she feels a jolt of actual fear. “There’s something worse?”

“She’s sending Dez Vizla too.” Davarax says. “And he’s insisting on bringing Paz along.”

“What?” Dulsissia exclaims and Davarax grabs her arm, so she lowers her voice after a quick glance back at the children now watching them with curious looks. “He’s twelve.” She hisses. “It’s not safe out there for him.”

Davarax merely shakes his head again. “I know. I voted against it, but they think I’m too soft on ‘my kids’.” He lets her go and takes a moment to simply lean against the door frame, as if he hasn’t the strength to stand upright by his own power, then he straightens and looks into the room. “I have to tell him. Send him out to me?”

For half a second, Dulsissia wants to say no. She wants to shut the door and refuse to open it for him or that horrible Vizla man, but then her brain kicks in and she gives a faint nod. This isn’t something Davarax agrees with or even wants to do, but he is helpless to prevent it and it is best Paz hears it from him.

Leaning against the wall of her room, looking out into the hallway through the open door, she watches as Davarax talks to Paz over by the door to his room. She can tell the moment Paz realizes what Davarax is explaining to him by the frantic shake of Paz’ head and when he knows there is no way to escape his father’s command by the defeated slump that follows Davarax’ comforting hand on his shoulder.

It’s in the middle of the night, but Dulsissia can’t sleep. It’s hours since Corin cried himself to sleep and she can tell by the sound of his even breathing that he’s finally found peace, but not her.

She keeps staring up at the ceiling. Everything inside her is a churning turmoil.

Davarax is leaving. Paz’ father is dragging him into danger. And the other children are miserable.

She is miserable.

Why now? There weren’t that many new souls in the Covert. And why Davarax? The leader could have sent anyone. Was it because of Dulsissia? Was this her revenge for Dulsissia not heeding her warning and staying away from him if she didn’t take the Creed?

What if she will never see Davarax again? What if something happens and he never comes back home? That is one thought she cannot stand.

Dulsissia takes care to make as little noise as possible as she sneaks out of bed and tiptoes on bare feet over to the door. Never before has a door made as loud a whoosh as the one her door now makes. Cringing, she looks over at Corin, but he’s still asleep. Good.

The hallway is cold, she’s just wearing her simple nightgown, but she can’t risk getting dressed in case it would wake Corin up. The door whooshes loudly again as it closes behind her, she waits but doesn’t hear any sign of Corin waking up so she walks over to knock on Davarax’ door.

He’s probably asleep. He should be asleep She hopes he’s asleep. He needs sleep to be rested for tomorrow.

The door slides open, revealing a fully dressed and armored Davarax, who seems as puzzled to see her as she is to find him awake. “Dulcy? What’s wrong?”

“Why aren’t you asleep?” She hears how it sounds like an accusation.

Davarax’ helmet pulls back a little. “I don’t know. I…. Thinking too much, I guess.”

Dulsissia deflates. “Can I come in?”

That seems to puzzle him even more and he hesitates before taking a step aside and gesturing her to come in. “Sure.”

Dulsissia walks inside. It’s strange, now that she thinks about it. She’s had him in her room countless times by now, but she’s never been in his.

It’s a nice room. Small, but tidy. He has a neat row of vibro-blades on the wall. Two blasters hanging there as well. She suspects what those things on the shelves up above the bed are not decorations, but some kind of explosive devices. Clothes are neatly folded and stacked on a chair in the corner or the room with a bag on the floor next to it. The only hint of luxury is the large bed at the very end of the room, with bright white sheets and a thick fur cover.

Then she sees the most beautiful holo-picture of Paz, Raga, Barthor and Din standing on a writing desk. It hurts her heart and makes her at peace with her decision to be here.

“Dulcy?” Davarax asks, sounding a little worried. “Talk to me.”

“It’s going to be a lot longer than six months, isn’t it?” She says.

Dulsissia hears him sigh somewhere behind her. “Probably.” He takes a step towards her. “Listen, you will still be safe here. You and Corin. You can still make a life here. A-and maybe even meet someone else…”

“I don’t want someone else.” Dulsissia states. “I want you.”

She hears him step closer. She feels his gloved fingers slide down the back of her bare upper arm, as if he’s afraid to touch her but wants the contact too much to be able to stop himself. “Dulcy…”

Dulsissia turns her head a little in his direction and Davarax instantly backs up a couple of steps.

“Sorry…” He sounds a little shaky. “Sorry. That was crossing the line. I didn’t mean to do that.”

“When Din broke his nose, you took off your gloves to help him.” Dulsissia says. “So you can take off your gloves.”

“Yes.”

“Not including your helmet, can you take the rest off?”

A moment’s pause. “Yes.”

Dulsissia turns to face him, still strangely calm. “Do you want to? Now?”

Davarax stands frozen, but he can’t hide the hitch in his breath. “You don’t have to do this.”

“I know.” She replies. “Now please answer my question; do you want to take them off?”

Another moment of hesitation and this time Dulsissia can tell his eyes are moving over her. She knows if she was to see her own reflection, she’d see a woman without any make up, in a shapeless and sleeveless white nightgown that barely reaches her ankles, sporting unkempt and wild hair. She wonders what he sees. Because she notices how Davarax’ hands clench into fists, like he has to stop himself from reaching out for her.

Finally he gives her his answer in a quiet, almost shameful whisper. “Yes.”

Nodding, pleased they want the same thing, Dulsissia reaches up and slides the nightgown off her shoulders and lets it drop to the floor. “Then take them off.”

The sight of her seems to knock the air out of his lungs for a second, then his hands move to start removing his armor, his clothes, and not once does he take his eyes off her.

Dulsissia watches as more and more of him is revealed and realizes she had been right; he really is lovely all over. Beautiful. With his golden skin, finely tuned muscles and battle scars.

Once his body is as bare as hers, he waits for her to decide what happens next and she walks over to him. Placing her hand on his chest, feeling his heart beating as fast as hers, Dulsissia savours the heat of his skin and wants to place her lips to every scar. So much pain is written on his skin. “I’m guessing you Mandalorians have some secrets when it comes to this as well?”

“Some.” Davarax replies in a hoarse whisper, strained with the effort of keeping still.

She looks up at him. “Will you show me?”

He does.

And for a while, all she can think about it how good it feels, how good he feels, the heat of him, the weight of him, all of him. Her whimpers mixed with his half-choked groans. Her fingers digging into his back and his hand gripping her hip. And she will never ever forget the feeling of him shaking apart in her embrace, allowing himself to crumble, trusting her to put him back together again.

After, she holds him to her chest so he won’t see the tears in her eyes as she thinks about how that they might not ever have this again.

Dulsissia stays as long as she dares, but eventually she sits up and scouts for where she’d dropped her nightgown. She has to get back before Corin wakes up.

Davarax’ bare fingers trail down her back. “Marry me.”

Blinking surprised, she looks back at him. “What?”

On his back, sprawling carelessly, barely covered by sheets, Davarax moves his hand to cup her face. “Marry me.”

Now it is her turn to huff a laugh and Dulsissia lifts a hand to cover his. “You definitely need sleep.”

Davarax sits up and leans forward to place his forehead to hers in a sweet kov’nyn. “Marry me.”

Dulsissia swallows hard, memorizes the feeling for a little while, then she gently pulls free and gets out of bed. “I’ll wait for you.” She walks over to where she can pick up her nightgown and puts it on. “I won’t be with anyone else. You have my heart.” Dulsissia looks over at him. “But I can’t marry you. I’m never getting married again. I’m sorry.”

Davarax sighs, looks down and then back up again. He nods. “I understand.”

Dulsissia tries to smile but fails. She draws a deep breath. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Davarax nods and he merely watches as she leaves.

They are standing by the door leading into Nevarro city and Dulsissia is doing her very best to be strong for the children. She, Corin, Din, Raga and Barthor are lined up to say their goodbyes to Paz.

Poor Paz, all dressed up in travel gear meant for a grown man and looking utterly miserable.

Corin is hiding halfway behind Dulsissia’s leg, he hasn’t done that in months, while Din is the first to step forward toward Paz.

“You promised…” Din whispers, pale and scared. “What if they come while you’re gone?”

“They won’t.” Paz replies in a shaky voice, placing a hand on Din’s shoulder, giving him a gentle shake. He tries to will conviction into his voice. “Okay? They won’t.”

Before Din can say much of anything, Raga rushes forward to throw her arms around Paz’ torso and sobs out loud as she buries her face in his chest. Not letting go of Din, Paz closes his eyes and bends down to place a kiss on Raga’s hair before resting his cheek against the curls and wraps his other arm around her.

Dulsissia has to look away and blink away tears of her own.

“Don’t go.” Raga barely manages to say through the heaving sobs.

“He has to.” Barthor says quietly and with no small amount of sadness himself. He reaches out and runs a gentle hand up and down Raga's back.

Paz lifts his arm from Raga’s back and holds it out so Barthor can move in and then he hugs them both before pulling Din close with his other am. A second after getting the three in place, Paz lifts his head and opens the arm he has around Din again, wiggling his fingers for Corin to join them.

Corin doesn’t hesitate. He darts over and squeezes in tight next to Din, letting Paz lock them with his arm as he does with Barthor and Raga.

Dulsissia discretely wipes at her eyes and looks down just as Paz lifts his gaze to her. He can’t really fit all four in his embrace, but he’s trying his very best. “You…” Paz swallows hard and tries again. “You have to look after them for me while I’m gone. Understand?”

Raga sobs even louder. Din’s fingers are digging into Paz’ jacket.

“I promise.” Dulsissia replies, even as everything in her rebels at the fact that this little boy, Paz is just a child himself, should feel such a responsibility. He’s too young for such a weight.

The sound of heavy footsteps makes her look over and soon Dez Vizla enters the hallway, followed by Davarax, and the leader of the Vizla clan doesn’t even pause as he walks by his son. “Paz. Let’s go.”

Raga wails even louder. Barthor backs away, so does Corin, and eventually a reluctant Din, but Paz has to pry Raga off himself and he more or less shoves her at Dulsissia before he runs after his father, failing entirely to hide his own tears.

Dulsissia restrains Raga, desperately trying to run after Paz, and looks over at Davarax standing there. “You keep him safe, Davarax. Whatever it takes. You hear me? You keep him safe and you make sure the both of you come back to us.”

Davarax nods. He looks at each child in turn, then sighs and crouches down. “You hear that? I’ll keep Paz safe. I promise. And we’ll be back before you know it. Then we will all be together again.”

Barthor cautiously approaches him. “Don’t forget us?”

Davarax reaches out and gives his hair a light ruffle. “Never. Not as long as I live.” He then looks over at Din. “I will be back, Din. Trust me.”

Din merely stares down at the floor.

Corin is next to approach him. “I will look after mommy until you get back.”

Davarax does his little trademark huff-laugh and taps Corin lightly under the chin with a finger. “I appreciate that, Corin. Thank you.” He then reaches out a hand and puts his palm gently to Raga’s back as the little girl is clinging to Dulsissia’s leg and crying so hard her small body is shaking. He has no words that will take away her pain, so in the end Davarax straightens back up, hesitates, looks at each of then in turn once more, then he walks away.

The door closes behind him and he’s gone.

Feeling a deep hollowness spreading inside, Dulsissia absently bends down to pick up Raga. “Let’s go.” And she carries the heartbroken soul, while the other three morose children walk behind her.

Davarax made sure to get one of his friends from the Fighting Corps to step in to train the children, if only twice a week. And Decco takes over Dulsissia’s training, which makes it a lot less fun and brings a lot more tough work instead.

“You’re as bad as he was.” Decco grumbles, crouching next to where Dulsissia is squirming on the floor after she got sent flying there by the other woman.

“As bad as who?” Dulsissia asks, wondering whether she can be bothered to get up or not.

“As Davarax.” Decco straights up and shoves at Dulsissia with her boot. “He complained when I trained him too. Now get up.”

Dulsissia remains where she is and frowns thoughtfully. “How old are you?”

“Old enough to be your mother so don’t make me put you over my knee.” Decco threatens. “Get up.”

Dulsissia scrambles to her feet.

It doesn’t take more than two days before Davarax’ absence takes its toll, though. Dulsissia is surprised to find Din’s mother on her door one morning, asking her with resigned worry if her son was there. He’d disappeared some time during the night and no one knows where he is.

“He’s not here. Sorry.” Dulsissia says and the Mandalorian wanders off to ask the next person.

Considering her options for a moment, Dulsissia looks back at where Corin is sitting on his bed, reading. “I need to go check something, sweetie. Can you be a good boy and stay here?”

Corin shrugs. He’s clearly not heard what the question was about, otherwise he’d be running around looking for Din too. Good.

“Okay then. Stay here. I’ll be back soon.” Dulsissia slips out and closes the door behind her before heading down to the storage room Davarax had revealed to be Din’s hiding spot.

At first she can’t see him and Dulsissia is a bit relieved she hadn’t told his mother she knew where Din was, but then she takes a step further into the cluttered room and a blanket across an old pilot seat moves.

“Din?” Dulsissia steps closer and she chokes on a startled sound when the blanket goes flying, revealing Din curled up on the seat and holding a sharp piece of metal out in a defensive move.

Once the shock is over, Dulsissia cautiously approaches the boy. “Din, it’s me. It’s just me. Dulcy.”

Blinking, as if in a trance, Din finally seems to actually see her and he slowly lowers the weapon.

“Are you okay?” Dulsissia asks, daring to crouch down next to him, seeing how he’s still acting rather dazed. “What are you doing down here?”

“I thought…” Din mumbles, looking around, frowning confused. “I thought they were here?”

“Who, Din?” Dulsissia reaches out and cautiously eases the weapon out of his hands. He lets her take it, looking increasingly distressed and confused.

“Them!” The boy gulps for air. “The droids. They’re going to kill us all. Like they killed my mom and dad.”

“There are no droids here, Din.” Dulsissia puts the weapon away and then gently brushes the hair away from his sweaty brow. “No droids. You’re safe.”

Din shakes his head and his eyes brim with tears. “No. I’m not! He said he’d keep them away and they stayed away, but now he’s gone away! Him and Davarax both! And now the droids are going to come and kill us all!”

“No…” Dulsissia inches up to sit next to him, wrapping an arm around the shivering boy and hugs him close when she hears the first quiet sobs he’s trying to hide. “No, baby, no. You’re safe here in the Covert. We all are. The droids won’t come for you or any of us. It’s going to be okay.”

She sits with him until the tears dry up and Din is able to function somewhat normally again. He’s tired, exhausted and cold, so she ends up carrying him back to his parents.

Forget about the fight training, Dulsissia suspects the muscles she might get is from carrying these children around.

Din makes a miserable sound when she hands him over to his father, but doesn’t fight it. Dulsissia wonders if maybe she should have just brought him back to her room instead, suspecting Corin might have had a calming influence on him, but it wouldn’t be fair to Din’s parents.

“Thank you.” Din’s mother says, sounding both relieved and as exhausted as the son.

“Listen,” Dulsissia decides to risk it, “Din and my son have gotten very close. They are very fond of each other. If you need help with-”

“I appreciate you bringing me my son, but the day when I need help from an outsider is the day you can take my helmet.” The woman snaps and the door slides shut in front of Dulsissia’s face.

Huh. Rude!

It takes about two weeks before there is a knock on Dulsissia’s door and she opens it to find the teacher with the stinky room standing there with a firm grip on Raga’s arm.

The little girl is staring defiantly down at the floor and the man is taking short, angry breaths.

“You think she’s innocent and manageable? You manage her!” The man yanks Raga forward so she stumbles inside the room, “Enjoy!” and stomps away.

Shocked, Dulsissia slowly turns away from staring at his back to looking at the miserable looking child standing in the middle of the room. Raga is rubbing her arm where the man’s hand had been grabbing her and her lips are trembling.

Corin is sitting on his bed, wide-eyed and scared to move.

“Oh, baby…” Dulsissia sighs and closes the door. She walks over to Raga. “Are you okay?”

She nods, but keeps staring at the floor.

Dulsissia crouches down and wraps her arms around her. It takes a little while, but eventually Raga relaxes and leans against her.

Bribing her son and Raga with treats and a new story on the datapad, Dulsissia uses the opportunity to sneak off and talk to Raga’s parents.

Raga’s father doesn’t say much, but Raga’s mother points inside their room, over at where three other children are wrestling on the floor, screaming and pummelling each other. “I hear what you’re saying, Dulcy, but I got my hands full here. I don’t have the time or energy to deal with Raga’s antics right now. My boys are about to take the Creed and I have at least five other assignments I have to finish. Just… send her home. I’ll keep her here until Davarax comes back.”

One of the boys cries out in real pain and Raga’s father turns his t-visor towards them. “HEY! Calm down! The first one who breaks something on someone gets their ass kicked by me!”

Blinking, Dulsissia has to gather herself for a moment before blurting out an idea she comes up with on the spot. “How about I look after her for those hours of school? I can teach her some stuff? I mean, that would be better than her just staying at home?”

Both of Raga’s parents look at her for a second, then the mother says, with no small amount of dry disbelief; “You’d do that…?”

Raga’s father follows it up with; “Why?”

But then there is a thump and something shatters on the floor and the man stalks off inside the room. “Right. That’s it! Who did that? Get back here!”

“No killing!” Raga’s mother shouts after him before turning back to Dulsissia. “I can’t pay you.”

Dulsissia nods. “That’s fine.”

Sighing, Raga’s mother shrugs. “Sure. Fine. Go ahead.” Then there is the sound of some kind of ruckus and she mumbles that she has to go. “I said no killing! I will kick the ass of anyone who dares to die today, I am NOT cleaning that up!”

That is how Dulsissia ends up having Raga around almost as much as Din and her own son and why why she ends up approaching the last of Davarax’ children; “I need your help.”

Barthor looks up from his datapad. He’s sitting in the corner of the common room. Alone. As usual.

“With Davarax and Paz gone, I’ve promised to look after Din and Raga in addition to my own boy and I have no idea how to entertain them or what to teach them or… I need someone who knows stuff to help me set up some sort of activities so they won’t kill each other.” Dulsissia says.

Barthor lowers his datapad and smirks. “You just don’t want me to feel left out when you guys have fun.”

“That too.” Dulsissia admits. “But mostly I really do need your help. All the stuff I used to do as a kid means we have to go outside.”

Barthor considers it, then nods. “I’ll help you.”

Davarax and Paz have been gone for three months when a messenger appears on Dulsissia’s door and hands her a small box with her and the children’s names on it. It’s from Davarax.

The children all get a large lump each of what looks to be a mix of sugar and something even more sweet, to their utter delight as none of them had tried this particular kind before, and Dulsissia finds a cylinder-shaped container within the box with her name written on the lid.

Opening it, Dulsissia gingerly eases out its content into her hand and her eyes instantly well up with tears at the sight of the beautiful wildflower. She places her free hand over her mouth to muffle a faint cry of how much she misses him.

“Mom?” Corin asks, sounding anxious. “Did Davarax do something wrong?”

“No, baby.” Dulsissia whispers, placing a soft kiss on the flower’s delicate petals. “He did something perfectly right.”

After that, she gets an idea. It takes no small amount of courage, but Dulsissia scrounges together the ingredients she needs, slips her blade into her pocket, her blaster into the lining of her pants, and then she goes back up into Nevarro to sell her cookies again.

It takes her several weeks to save up the credits and another one to manage to purchase it, but finally she can gather the children in her room and tell them they are going to record a holo-message to Davarax and Paz.

The children eagerly ramble their words, simple everyday things that has happened to them, and Dulsissia wraps it up by telling Davarax and Paz that they are both sorely missed, to be careful and come back home soon. She knows Davarax will see the flower in her hair.

She packs the small holo-projector with the message into a box along with some cookies and then hands it over to the Mandalorian in charge of communication.

A couple of months later, another small box is delivered to her room and Dulsissia feels a jolt of excitement when she sees the holo-projector inside.

Dulsissia gathers the children and they all huddle together in the room to see the message.

The holo-image sputters slightly as it lights up but then stabilizes and the image of Davarax from the chest up comes into view.

“Greetings from the new Covert.” His voice declares and Dulsissia doesn’t realize she squirms with delight along with the children at the sound of him. “Thank you for the message and the cookies. It really brightened our days.” Davarax turns his visor and gestures someone over. When Paz steps into view, Raga makes a tiny sound. He looks tired, but unharmed.

“Hey.” Paz says, a little awkward, and goes silent until Davarax nudges him. “I, uh, hope you liked the sweets. They got plenty of that here. So that’s good. Uhm. Wish you guys were here.”

With that, the final words a rushed and emotional thing, Paz steps out of frame and Davarax turns back to focus on them again.

“Barthor, I’m expecting your project to be done when I get back and to see it operational. Din, I know this is tough for you, but I’m proud of you that you’re doing so well. Raga, I’ll talk to your teacher when I get back, don’t worry about it. I got your back, remember? Corin, good job, you keep looking after your mom.” Davarax then leans back a little and his voice changes tone from gentle to a far more mischievous one. “Okay, Dulcy, this is when you pause the message and usher the kids out. The rest of this message is just for you.”

Dulsissia’s hand flies out and she presses the pause button while her face flares up red.

The children all whine in disappointment, but Dulsissia shows no mercy. All she can think about is what Davarax will say. “Out. Now. Go play. Food in thirty minutes.”

“But can’t we please stay?” Corin pleads. “We won’t tell him we heard.”

Raga tilts her head, raises her eyebrows, not convinced that this isn’t something she’d like to hear.

Corin frowns while Barthor drags Raga up on her feet as well. “But… Mom doesn’t do grown-up kissy stuff.”

“Oh, sweet angel, she definitely does.” Dulsissia corrects him, gesturing for them to hurry up.

She’d feel guilty if not for the comical look of disbelief on Corin’s face as the others drag him out and how curious she is to hear what Davarax has to say.

The door has barely closed before she activates the message again.

Davarax waits a couple of seconds then he tilts his head. “They gone? Yeah? Okay.” He leans forward again. “I miss you, Dulcy. I miss you like crazy. Dez punched me twice in the head yesterday because I couldn’t focus. It’s been too long. I can’t stop thinking about you. Things haven’t gone smoothly here, like I suspected, and I fear I may shoot the next one who causes trouble and keeps me away from home. From you.” He exhales a laugh, leans back and shakes his head a little, as if he can’t believe his own words, before he focuses on her again and sits back up. “I’m running out of time on the holo, but there is one final thing I wanted to say; Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum.” His voice is so wonderfully soft at that, before the smile returns to his voice. “I know you don’t speak Mando’a, but now you have a dictionary. You’re a clever girl, Dulcy. Look it up.”

The image flickers as he leans forward and reaches out and then he’s gone.

Heart racing, so emotional she can barely breathe, Dulsissia wants to hug the holo-projector close and cry her eyes out at the same time. She needs him back. She misses him like crazy too!

But no time to cry, she has a message to decipher.

It’s not easy juggling four children, training with Decco, sneaking up into Nevarro to sell her cookies and deal with everyday challenges as well, but it keeps her busy and prevents her from sliding into self-pity.

Plus, the challenge of Davarax’ message is a delightful distraction.

Dulsissia could just play the line for Decco, but that wouldn’t be right. His words was for Dulsissia and Dulsissia alone, so she decides to try to write down the words as she hears them and go from there.

It takes a bit of work and a bit of time, but the reward? Oh, Dulsissia can hardly believe it.

He loves her. He just told her he loves her. He will carry her in his heart forever.

The abrupt marriage proposal had seemed like a spontaneous thing, born out of residual oxytocins and the distress of having to leave, but even after telling him that can never happen; he still loves her.

Dulsissia is not proud of it, but she spends the next ten minutes just crying. She’s feeling too much and it’s the only way she knows how to deal with it. Once that is done, when she feels calmer, that’s when Dulsissia has to find some discrete way of letting him know she feels the same.

If she was a Mandalorian, she would have sent him a weapon, right? But she’s not. And he’d said he preferred her cookies anyway. So…

Dulsissia records a message with the kids, adds her own after like he’d done to her, telling him just how much she misses him too, that he has to be careful and adds the word she’d learned and rehearsed saying just for this moment; ner cyare.

And in the box, she adds a small bag with a cookie meant for Davarax alone. A cookie shaped like a blaster.

It becomes something to look forward to, something that makes the wait a little less torturous, those packages with these short messages from Davarax and Paz. Visible evidence that they’re alive and sweet, reassuring words that the connection between them all are still there.

Then comes the day when it’s been a year since Davarax and Paz left. A whole year! How is that possible? And it’s been three months since she heard from them. Decco reassures her that the two are fine, otherwise the Covert would have been buzzing with news, but still… she doesn’t like it.

The explanation comes three weeks later, when Corin and Din come running into the room and startles Dulsissia in the middle of wrapping up her wrist, still swollen and stiff after yesterday’s training accident.

“They’re back!” Corin blurts out.

“The ship just landed!” Din adds, equally excited.

“Who? What are you two talking about?” Dulsissia asks, fastening the bandage with a frown.

“Paz and Davarax, of course!” Corin shouts, as if he can’t believe he has to spell it out.

Dulsissia jolts as if someone just punched her in the stomach. She can’t breathe. They’re back?!

“We have to go meet them.” Corin says. “Right, mom?”

She automatically looks over at the mirror she can barely see in the refresher room, thinking she should pretty herself up before Davarax sees her, but Dulsissia realizes that she can’t wait. She looks back at the boys. “Get Barthor. I’ll get Raga.”

It’s not long after that that they are gathered up by the door to Nevarro, where they had said their goodbyes. The children are eerily quiet, just stares at the door, but Dulsissia can’t blame them. She is failing to find a single word of reassurance.

They wait. Seconds tick by. Minutes. Ten minutes. Fifteen.

The door opens. Dez Vizla steps inside, barely deigns to send a glance their way as he walks on, and then; there he is.

Davarax appears, stepping inside and is just… there. He’s there. Real, alive, breathing, there.

The children rush forward. Dulsissia can’t move. She can’t anything. She’s frozen in place.

Crouching down, Davarax greets the children with a delighted laugh and accepts everything from hugs to semi-angry shoves for staying away so long, and only once they have started to calm down does he cautiously glance up at her.

Dulsissia tries to smile, but her stupid eyes well up with tears again.

Davarax straightens back up and walks over to her. He barely has time to open his arms before Dulsissia rushes forward and throws her arms around his neck, hugging the man with a touch of desperation. She bites her lower lip hard to hold back the sobs, just holds on tight. Dulsissia loves how his arms goes around her waist to pull her impossibly close while his helmet burrows against her neck.

For a little while, they are allowed to hold each other and linger in the realness of each other, before Dulsissia makes herself lean back a little. Her hands slide over to cup his helmet to hold him still so she can lean her forehead to his.

Davarax shivers at the contact. His arms are still not letting her back away a single inch.

They might have remained like that for ages if not for Dulsissia being distracted by Raga rushing forward with a happy sound and she looks over just in time to see the girl throw her arms around Paz and be hugged tightly in return.

Placing a hand against Davarax’ chest, Dulsissia eases herself away from him and watches the boy with no small amount of unexpected sadness.

It’s Paz, there is no doubt about that, she’d recognize him while being blindfolded, and he more than confirms it with the arms eagerly reaching out for Din and Corin and Barthor to join as well, but Dulsissia can’t help mourn the fact that she’ll never see his sweet face again.

Paz is wearing the trademark blue Vizla helmet.

That brings a lot of mixed feelings to Dulsissia, but right now she decides to focus on the fact that her two boys are finally back with them. They are alive, unharmed and back where they belong. She pushes the thoughts away and smiles at Davarax. “Welcome home.”

#the mandalorian his son and the storm trooper #Dulsissia Motti #Davarax #Baby Corin #Fearsome Four #Mandorin AU #What if

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