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vanishedangels · 2 years ago

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The Red Thread of Fate

Chapter 1 • Chapter 2 • Chapter 3 • Chapter 4 • Chapter 5

Summary: Luke Skywalker, Prince of Tatooine, helps Prince Din Djarin of Mandalore to kill the Greater Krayt Dragon and escape the labyrinth in exchange for a ride to Yavin 4 in order to reunite with his sweetheart. But a red thread will lead him to his true love.

Loosely based on The Myth of Ariadne and Theseus and Ariadne's Story.

Pairing: Din Djarin/Luke Skywalker.

Characters: Luke Skywalker, Din Djarin, Anakin Skywalker, Padmè Amidala, Obi Wan Kenobi, Leia Organa, Biggs Darklighter, Sheev Palpatine, Grogu.

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Tatooine slave culture. Slavery. Graphic depictions of violence.

Tags: Canon Divergence AU, Soulmates AU, Pining, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Getting Together, Protective Din Djarin, Confused Luke Skywalker, Matchmaker Padmè Amidala, Severe King Anakin Skywalker, Strict Father Anakin Skywalker, Sassy Obi Wan Kenobi.

Chapters: 5/5.

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"For a while, I thought you couldn't be real." Din added running his thumb over Luke's lips. "I mean, I still can't believe you are real."

The blonde stared at him slightly parting his lips "Why?" He said and experimentally kissed Din's thumb.

Din's chest plate was moving fast "Because of this, the way you make me feel, it is beyond comprehension, I want to come back to you every day of my life. Please Luke, let me come back to you every day of my life." He said with softness in his eyes and Luke couldn't refrain his longing anymore.

Chapter 5: Love

Inside the captain room everything was silent. Big blue eyes surveying the black of the visor of the man before them.

The Prince of Mandalore looked down, avoiding his gaze, then looked up at him again.

"You are here, but still I feel you are parsecs away." Din said quietly.

"I am here." The blonde retorted, but the expression on his face said otherwise. He knew he couldn't hide it, he was feeling anxious, unshielded. So vulnerable and at the same time he didn't know what to do.

He frowned staring down, he was conflicted, he came back to Din of his own accord, although, now, with the man in front of him he didn't know how to react.

"You told me you were following your heart." The mandalorian said, walking in a slow pace towards the Prince of Tatooine. "If your heart led you to me, I need to tell you something, Luke." He said ducking his head.

Luke heard a hiss, but he didn't understand what was going on until it was too late. Din was lifting his helmet with both hands, revealing a patchy beard and thin lips crowned with a well trimmed moustache, and the blonde prince's eyes widened before he squeezed them shut, shaking his head frantically.

"What are you doing, Din?" He asked covering his eyes with one hand, he swallowed hard, he could feel his heart thumping in his ears and the image of that beautiful sight burning his pupils.

"Please, cyare, open your eyes." He heard the voice of Din cracking a little and his heart fluttered.

"No..." He said breathing in "It is not allowed. You-you said that to my father." He pressed his hand against his eyelids a little harder as his other hand curled into a fist by the side of his thigh, desperate to reach out and caress Din's tanned skin.

"It is allowed when you finally find the one you will have and hold. Forever." Din said and all Luke could see was darkness, still the warmth of Din's bare hand against his own made him shiver. He could feel Din's soft breath against his ear. "It is allowed when you finally find your partner, your riduur, the one that will raise warriors with you, the one you choose to be your clan. And that's you, Luke."

"Clan..." Luke sighed, absentmindedly interlacing their fingers. He knew he wanted what Din was offering him, he knew he was the one he loved. He started moving his fingers on his eyes slowly, as if he was awaking from the most beautiful dream, hoping the dream wouldn't vanish the moment he opened his eyes.

The blonde peeked through his fingers and he froze, finally drawing his hand down. Marvelous and intense brown eyes were boring into his own, stripping his soul, leaving him breathless.

"I know you..." Luke said to him squeezing his hand, fingers still intertwined. "I know your face, I..." He trailed off, gazing at Din's face in astonishment.

"I know." Din said nodding sheepishly, not breaking eye contact with the blonde, a shade of soft pink blossoming on his cheeks.

"You know?" The Prince of Tatooine asked reaching out, he hesitated but Din grabbed his hand encouraging him, Luke nodded and softly touched that pink cheek, stroking the facial hair under his fingertips. "Din, what is going on?" He asked tilting his head.

The taller man drew in a sharp inhale, basking in Luke's touch against his skin. "I've always known it was you. The day I saw you for the first time, it wasn't really the first time."

"Din..." Luke said leaning in, his face inches apart of Din's "I've been seeing you in my dreams since I turned fourteen." He said breathlessly.

Din chuckled "Yes, and so have I." He cupped his face in his hands "You're my soulmate, Luke."

Soulmates.

Luke's head was spinning, his mind ran to the nights he awoke from those dreams, feeling complete and overwhelmed, he remembered strong arms around him, and soft lips against his eyebrows, a moustache tickling his cheek and brown eyes roaming his blushing face. Eventually he tried to solve the puzzle and he concluded that the face he was seeing in his dreams was his friend's, Biggs, a little distorted but he convinced himself that since dreams weren't clear enough, his childhood friend was the one visiting him every night in his unconscious visions, therefore he believed he needed to fall in love with him in real life, still he couldn't feel a thing.

It made sense now.

Din brushed his face with his fingers bringing him out of his thoughts "But I didn't feel love, real love, until..." He pressed his lips together and Luke arched his eyebrows. "Until that red glow poured on me, like a rain of love, I don't know how to explain it."

So Din experimented the explosion of the red thread as well.

Luke closed his eyes, softly, fluttering his eyelashes and Din sighed.

"For a while, I thought you couldn't be real." Din added running his thumb over Luke's lips. "I mean, I still can't believe you are real."

The blonde stared at him slightly parting his lips "Why?" He said and experimentally kissed Din's thumb.

The blonde closed the space between their faces and pressed his lips against Din's, kissing him softly, Din hummed bringing their bodies closer resting his hands on his lower back.

Luke placed his hands on Din's nape, parting his lips and capturing Din's lower lip between them, that made Din whimper. The Prince of Mandalore walked them towards the wall, pining Luke against the metal surface.

"Din..." The blonde said sighing with a crooked smile on his face.

"You look so beautiful like this, Luke." He said kissing him with more intensity now, his hands leaned on the wall at Luke's sides, then he drew them down to squeeze his waist. Luke groaned inside his mouth, the beskar pressing against his body didn't bother him, all he wanted was melt in his soulmate's kiss and arms.

When they finally broke the kiss to breathe Din muffled a chuckle staring at Luke's ruffled hair, then his eyes traveled down all the way to his lips, red and swollen "Gods, cyare, I would die right here if you keep going."

Din looked as sinful as Luke, with his brown hair tousled and his face flushed. Luke realized that the bridge of Din's nose was red as a strawberry and he couldn't help but kiss him right on the nose, cupping his face and Din's hands tensed against his back.

"I love you, Din, I can't believe how much I love you." He sighed closing his eyes as Din ducked his head slowly, finally resting his face against Luke's collarbone.

"I love you more, cyare." He whispered kissing the blonde's neck.

"Ah, Din." He said treading his fingers in Din's brown hair, but all of a sudden he froze against his lover.

"Luke?" Din asked pulling his head back a little to stare at his eyes, confusion radiating off of him. His hand on the blonde's chest.

Luke put his hand atop Din's, stroking his fingers, his heartbeat picking up the speed "You said you love me more, but you let me go." He stated rubbing his face against Din's.

"I did." He said kissing him on the corner of his lips.

"How come?" Luke asked brushing his hair reverently.

"Mesh'la, that was your desire, and even if I had lost you forever when I left you on Yavin 4, I would never force you to do something against your will." He kissed the dimple in Luke's chin.

The blonde Prince closed his eyes lifting his eyebrows, he was trying to focus but Din was making it difficult.

Gods, it is real. You are the right one.

He swallowed and frowned, clearing his throat finding his words again "Love, I want you to come back to me every day of my life." He smiled staring down at Din's face.

"Gods, cyare." Din said moving his head up to kiss him again and his hands traveled all over Luke's body.

"Wait, love." He said still kissing him "Wait, wait." He took Din's face in his hands, boring into his brown eyes "We need to put an end to my father's abusiveness, you won your people's freedom fairly and he had robbed that of you." He said stroking Din's cheek but he couldn't avoid the anger taking him over, it was time, he was facing the King for the very first time.

He was resolute and the Prince of Mandalore tried to persuade him but he failed.

"Please Din, tell your people I need to go back to Tatooine or you will never be in peace, you deserve peace, this is my gift to you, to each one of you, don't take that away from me." He kissed Din's forehead slightly standing on his tiptoes. "My heart is so full of love and the force will be my ally, don't be afraid, my love."

Din tilted his head a little, blinking and staring at his blue eyes, he sighed cupping his face and he kissed him softly "And you will have me by your side, cyare, my love, my Luke."

The blonde Prince considered his soulmate's offer and swallowed hard, he knew he couldn't stop Din, he considered it still looking at him, so close, so right, he ran his hands down Din's arms "What if I lose you there?" He muttered, his heart aching as his face was showing his pain.

"What if I lose you there?" The mandalorian retorted.

"Din..."

"Cyare, I am a mandalorian, a warrior. We offer our lives to sustain the greater good, we are supposed to die in the battlefield, it is our destiny, and it is our honour." He revealed and Luke shuddered in his arms, Din's words sending shivers down his spine. "My clan will never face danger all by themselves, if you do this, I will be there with you."

"I am... I am scared." Luke said, his voice broke into a quiet sob as tears brimmed in his eyes. He was brave enough to face his father on his own, but the possibility of losing Din by his father's hand made him feel hopeless and lost in the most terrifying darkness.

"Do not be scared, we will protect each other." He promised and rested his forehead against Luke's.

The galaxy shrank around them and, for a moment, it felt like they were the only two people in it.

"I am the one that brought order to this miserable planet!" The King yelled stomping out of the throne room. "How dare they revolt against me?" He held his hand up and the doors of the corridor opened slamming against the walls before him. He was entering the palace's north wing with the force of a whirlwind, devastating and furious.

Until something stopped him completely in his tracks.

King Anakin frowned, in anger, flaring his nostrils, he breathed heavily.

"Damn you, Obi Wan! Let go of me!" He was certain his former master was behind him. He insisted "You are certainly going to regret it, desist from using the force against me or I will-"

The older man cut him off "Or you will kill me, Anakin?" He asked with a serene voice.

"By all means I will." The King taunted his old master and Obi Wan sighed behind him.

"I know you want to destroy whatever is crossing your path today. I always knew this day was coming." He said putting a hand on Anakin's shoulder, still standing behind him "I love you, Anakin, and that is why you can not do this. Not today."

"Let me go to hell, Obi Wan, if you are trying to save my soul, you will only encounter frustration."

"And pain, I know, notwithstanding I will never leave your side. You are part of me, as I know I am part of you." He stated and Anakin went silent.

Obi Wan squeezed his shoulder and nodded, walking around him in order to finally be face to face with his former Padawan.

The King stared into his master's eyes, Obi Wan smiled fondly and a lonely tear ran down over Anakin's cheek, as he was invaded by the older man's affection.

"Release me, please, Master." Anakin finally pleaded.

"I can't my King." Obi Wan said stroking his cheek reverently, tracing the path of the lonely teardrop. "You know I can't, my brother."

All of a sudden, Obi Wan was thrown away with violence, his body ramming against the corridor wall. The King fell on his knees and hands, staring at his master's motionless body on the floor, he crawled towards him, placing both hands on his chest.

"Now you are free to do as you please, my King." The sinister voice of the counsellor echoing around them, Anakin snapped his head up to look at him.

"He is alive." He said still feeling the heartbeat of his Master under his hands.

"Anakin there is no time, leave him." The man under the hood said.

The King frowned staring at his obscured golden eyes standing up "Show me your face." He demanded.

A creepy laugh crawled up the counsellor's throat "You know my face, King of Tatooine." He curled a finger under Anakin's chin "You have been seeing it since you were a little baby."

The King squinted and swallowed tight "Yes, you were always there, but I want to see you now."

"Why?"

"My gut tells me you are hiding something from me." He retorted grabbing his wrist and moving the old man's hand away.

"I am loyal to you, my King, the only purpose of my life is to look after you, ensure your safety and security." He pointed at Obi Wan on the floor "To protect you from traitors and ingrates." He walked around the King in circles. "Those who said they will always be there for you are letting this happen." He whispered in his ear "Your old master, your children, and even your wife."

The King was curling his hands into fists again. His blood boiling inside his veins. His chest heavy.

"Yes, let me feel your anger, Anakin. I am the only one left, the one that will support you until the world ends, you only have me. You only had me since the beginning." He motioned his hand towards the corridor, encouraging him to keep walking as he grabbed him by his arm. "Show them who is their King, do not hold back."

The King took two steps forward but came to a halt staring at him over his shoulder "Where is Padmé?... And Leia?"

"Probably braiding their hair, waiting for you to find your demise." He deadpanned.

But the Queen and the Princess remained frozen inside the throne room, they didn't get a chance to leave the place, immobile and under a sleeping spell, like two human statues, beautiful and still.

When the King was approaching the corridor that took him to the main door, the roar of the crowd outside the palace was getting louder and his blood boiled again. He felt a cold hand seizing his arm "Wait my King."

The air thickened.

"He is coming." The counsellor muttered in his ear "The prodigal son is returning. I can feel it. We will wait for him." He said moving his hand in the air and the King was as frozen as his wife and daughter, still standing on his feet, with a stern expression and eyes as cold as an iceberg. "Do not worry my King, you will come back to the waking world without even notice this happened."

Tick-tock.

The two princes walked down the ramp of the mandalorian ship hand in hand. Koska stood immobile inside the aircraft, reluctantly hitting the button to close the ramp as soon as her Prince and his soulmate were heading towards the King's palace.

"You will go to Mandalore, you will not look behind you, this is not your quest, this is mine. Go to your Mand'alor and tell her to wait for my return. This is the way."

She remembered his words and she clenched her jaw, turning around and locking eyes with her vod, Axe.

This is the way.

Carefully, they landed on the outskirts of the city and as soon as they approached the palace's surroundings, something heavy settled down Luke's stomach.

His blue eyes widened when he contemplated the scene before him. He frowned as he let Din's hand go. He plodded around villagers, staring at their eyes, they were icy, mirroring the rest of their bodies. He was gaping, hesitantly touching the shoulder of a man, the man looked furious and carrying a homemade spear.

"What is this witchcraft?" The Prince of Mandalore asked walking through the street eluding the frozen villagers.

Luke moved his head to look at Din behind the man holding the spear, exuding confusion "I-I don't know what is going on here." They kept walking "Do you think they are alive, Din?" He said swallowing through the lump in his throat.

"You are afraid this is your father's doing, cyare. I can tell." Din said trying to catch his blue eyes behind the living statues.

They kept moving, heading to the palace in prudent silence, the blonde Prince gasped when he saw the royal guard fencing the palace and unmistakably repressing the people gathered by the entrance. He looked down, bloody sand under his black boots making him shudder, he squeezed his eyes shut and he only opened them when he felt the soft touch of Din's gloved hand against his cheek. "Cyare, I am right here."

Luke nodded and put his own hand atop Din's "We need to find my father."

"Oh, but he will find you first, little Prince." The sound of the unmistakable creepy voice of the King's counsellor made both of them startle. They looked at him still not processing what was unfolding before their eyes.

"You!" Luke sputtered "You are the one behind this." He said leaving Din's side and going up the palace's perron until he was facing the hooded man.

"Prepare yourself young Skywalker, he is eager to see you." He waved is hand in the air and Luke frowned, all of a sudden the young Prince understood that this man in front of him was a force-user. How could Sheev Palpatine manage to hide this from them for so long was beyond him.

Swiftly, he turned around and he yelled at the Prince of Mandalore "Run! Run Din!"

The mandalorian did run, but he ran towards Luke.

"No!" Luke said almost pleading as Din drew his blaster and pointed at the counsellor.

"Pathetic live form, rot in hell." He only needed to curl his hand into a fist to let Din out of breath, and he was dropping his weapon to take his hands to his throat.

Luke ignited his lightsaber "Coward! Face me!" He said digging the green humming blade into the man's arm. Palpatine groaned in pain releasing Din and the mandalorian crouched down coughing, the blonde prince was breathing fast savouring his little victory when the counsellor laughed mockingly.

When he shifted his gaze from Din to Palpatine, Luke's mouth hung open as he spotted his father, the King, behind the hooded man.

The young Prince moved his lightsaber taking careful steps to change his stance, he looked at his father's face with piercing eyes.

"Here he is, my King, your offspring. Him, who bruised your pride, him, the one that humiliated you in front of your people. He is the one to blame. The one that hurt you the most." He leaned in to whisper in Anakin's ear.

The King didn't move, still his son tilted his head, the King looked down and realized that somehow, even when his son was rather small for a man, he was efficiently shielding the mandalorian with his own body.

"You love him." Anakin observed. "I know you love him, what I am not certain about is if you are ready to kill me in order to protect the man you love."

The blonde prince grimaced, something in his father's words were making him feel uneasy. No. He was not ready. Not at all. He loved his father, even after the recent events.

I don't want to kill you father.

"Answer me Luke, will you kill me to protect Din Djarin from Mandalore?" He insisted.

"That is not up to me." He said extinguishing his saber.

"So be it." Palpatine said and Din was levitating, slowly, as Luke tried to use the force to keep him down, but Palpatine was stronger than him and while the blonde was giving everything, Din kept flying away, and up, up.

"What are you doing? Don't, please don't!" Luke said still using the force, his eyes brimmed with tears.

The King looked down avoiding his son's eyes, and ignoring his desperate plea, he was still feeling anger, he wouldn't interfere, this mandalorian was taking his son away from him. Palpatine was right, Luke hurt him, and deep down inside him he wanted to see him suffer.

"Let him go." Luke said exhausted.

"Gladly." Palpatine deadpanned and suddenly Din's body hit the floor with a force that made Luke startled as he heard a growl coming from him that was inhuman, and the blood in his veins turned into ice.

No.

Luke ran towards Din, he sank to his knees and clutched his shoulders desperately as tears started running down his face, like a wild river that he couldn't contain anymore.

"My love, Din." He rested his ear on his chest plate trying to hear his heartbeat but the beskar was getting in the way. He drew his hand up and press his fingers against his neck to find his pulse underneath the black fabric, there it was, slow, but Din wasn't answering, his blue eyes roamed his entire form realizing he wasn't moving and his leg was injured.

"Father, father..." He said between sobs "He needs attention, father, please." He added still staring at Din's visor. A broken gasp crawled up his throat when he moved his fingers away from Din's neck and he realized his hand was covered in blood.

The King started walking towards his son who was kneeling and hovering over his lover's body, but the counsellor grabbed his arm. "This is my gift to you my King, now let me finish this." Anakin frowned and stood still.

"Damn you, Palpatine." Luke said igniting his lightsaber again but before he could rise to his feet, Palpatine was hitting him with lighting coming out from his hands, it was unreal, it was unexpected. The King have never seen something like this.

He was killing Luke. Painfully and slowly. He was finishing this.

While Palpatine was torturing his son with electrical shocks, Anakin could see Luke's skeleton glowing through his skin from time to time, and it was slowly tearing the King's heart out.

He understood that this was really happening.

"Father... Please." Luke whimpered through the blue lighting, one hand still protecting the Prince of Mandalore's body, hovering over him, as he was holding his other hand up, trying to reach out, trying to hold his father hand, still believing in him, even now.

"Fath-" The Prince choked on his words and he rested both hands on the floor, not able to take it anymore.

Palpatine was laughing with an evident sadistic pleasure that made Anakin's stomach clench.

The counsellor was enjoying killing Luke greatly and he didn't even notice that the Prince's lightsaber disappeared from sight until he heard the sound of the blade igniting.

He gasped staring down at his own body and he took his hands to his chest where the end of the green blade was humming and the lighting stopped abruptly. Anakin was standing behind him, pushing the lightsaber deeper and deeper into him.

"Anakin?" The counsellor asked, his voice breaking. He couldn't turn around but he was trying to hold his hand up against Luke again and Anakin didn't hesitate, he pulled the blade out of him and with a rapid move he cut his head off.

Silence.

He stood there staring at the lifeless body of his counsellor hitting the floor. He looked away, finding his son curled up into a ball next to his mandalorian, he looked so fragile but still so strong, still alive, his endurance was impressive and he couldn't be more proud of him.

The people around them started moving, as the counselor's spell died with him. The sound of voices mingling, turning suddenly into a deafening silence. The royal guard and the villagers stopped their clash, while all eyes were on the Prince of Tatooine and the mandalorian lying on the floor.

Anakin leaned forward and touched his son's back reverently, the young man shuddered and crawled towards Din, still trying to find his pulse.

As the King was assisting his son, the Queen, the Princess and Obi-Wan appeared behind them.

"Father, he needs attention." Luke said with shaking hands, boring into Anakin's eyes, the young Prince frowned when he realized his father was crying.

He rested his hand against Din's helmet and he closed his eyes. Luke's eyes widened when he understood his father was using the force to heal his wounds.

He breathed in as he opened his eyes "He will be just fine, my son." He stood up. "Guards! Take the Prince of the free planet of Mandalore to the infirmary."

Luke startled the moment he heard his father calling Mandalore a free planet, he parted his lips to say something but he couldn't, the royal guard was taking them inside the palace.

"I know you are leaving." The King said standing by the window, his arms folded behind his body.

The Prince closed the distance between them "I knew I would find you in my room, father."

Anakin looked away moving the curtains to excuse his need to avoid his son's stare. He sighed "I am so ashamed, Luke. I need you to know that I am sorry."

"I know."

The King flinched when he felt the soft touch of his son's hand on his shoulder. He couldn't look away anymore, he stared down finding Luke's eyes "I am so sorry Lu-" he was cut off by his own tears as he rested his face against the Prince's shoulder "I love you, I love you and I am so proud of you."

The Prince stroked his back "I came to say goodbye, father."

The King nodded against him.

"My husband-to-be is returning home and I am going with him."

The King composed himself and straightened up is back "The Prince of Mandalore is the luckiest man in the world." He tried to not sound affected. "He is a free man now, and he is the man Luke Skywalker loves, luckiest man in the galaxy."

The blonde prince chuckled "I am the lucky one, father."

"Whatever you say." He snorted waving his hand.

"You are a man of honour father, you freed us all of the shadow that Palpatine cast over the galaxy, you were under his spell, do not think otherwise." He tilted his head smiling at his father "You saved my life and you saved Din's as well. That was you, winning your fight, that was really you." He hugged him tenderly "And this, right now, this is really you."

The King breathed in, reveling in the sweet scent of his son's hair, threading is fingers in those golden locks "Go on, future Prince Consort of Mandalore." He pressed his lips against each other in a fondly smile "Do not worry about us, son, someday your sister will be the righteous Queen of Tatooine."

Luke nodded knowing that that was always Leia's destiny "Promise me you will not push her, still I know in my heart that that is her desire."

"How do you like it?" The blonde prince asked him entering the cockpit.

Din was sitting down on the pilot seat staring around "Are you telling me that we can keep it?"

"Yes, it is a gunship, it is very old but I thought about you when I saw it, it suits you." He rested his hand on the mandalorian's pauldron. "Well, how do you like it?" He asked again, this time he sounded a little anxious.

"Wait." Din said reaching out to grab Luke by his waist, moving him until the blonde realized what he was trying to do, he sighed nodding, sitting on Din's lap. "Now the ship is perfect." He chuckled pressing the blonde's body against his chest. "Help me taking my helmet off, cyare."

Luke obliged and his heart melted when his blue eyes met Din's brown eyes, he pressed a kiss on his lips "I love you."

"Remember I love you more." Din said bringing their foreheads together.

"Arguable." Luke insisted kissing him long and soft until they were one, still embraced by the red glow of their red thread.

"Not arguable, I will show you, Skywalker." They both chuckled into their kiss and, again, Luke felt like they were the only two people in the galaxy.

After their marriage, Luke and Din traveled through the galaxy helping people in need, there were tales about them, the two princes that freed fourteen worlds with the strength of their love, the fourteen worlds that once were under the tyrannical reign of Tatooine.

They landed on the distant desert planet Arvala-7 not knowing they would get involved in a war against nikto mercenaries that were terrorizing the people surrounding their encampment.

When they eliminated the last of the mercenaries, they walked inside a chamber where Din discovered a hovering pram. Luke joined him pressing the button at the front and the pram opened.

He raised his eyebrows when he discovered big brown eyes staring at him "Din..." He said under his breath.

Din reached out and offered his gloved forefinger to the little creature inside the pram, he held Din's finger with his clawed hand.

"He is an infant, Din."

"I can tell." Din added.

Luke frowned when the child was sending him a message through the force, a wide smile appearing on his face "Hello, Grogu." He whispered.

"Grogu?" Din asked looking at him.

"You will not believe this but he is communicating with me through the force."

"You are telling me that he is... He is like you?" Din asked gently taking the baby's hand in his own.

"Yes. And he is scared, he wants to leave this place behind him." He explained staring at the child.

His eyes followed Din's moves, the mandalorian was carefully taking the little one in his arms and the image before him sent shivers down his spine, feeling a warm wave invading his body. The sight was beautiful, seeing his husband with that baby against his chest elicited something beautiful inside him.

"Hello Grogu." Din muttered and the baby chirped happily, moving his big ears as the man stroked his green skin. "We need to find his family, Luke." He said staring at his riduur with those kind brown eyes that Luke loved with every fiber of his being.

"He is a foundling, Din." A foundling, an orphan. Din looked surprised and his eyes were sparkling at the revelation.

Luke leaned forward and brushed the baby's white little hairs pressing a soft kiss on Din's cheek. "Maybe it was destiny, we walked into this place being two and now we are leaving it being three." He said sheepishly, his cheeks turning pink at the mere thought of it, raising children alongside his Din.

They kept traveling through the galaxy helping people in need, there were tales about them, the two princes and their little son, the couple that once freed fourteen worlds with the strength of their love, the fourteen worlds that once were under the tyrannical reign of Tatooine, and now they were known as the clan of three.

#dinluke #dinluke fanfiction #din djarin #luke skywalker #the red thread of fate fanfic #skydalorian

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amiedala · 3 years ago

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SOMETHING MORE (the mandalorian x reader)

CHAPTER 30: Something More

RATING: Explicit (18+ ONLY!!!)

WARNINGS: sexual content & descriptions of violence

SUMMARY: “I’m ready,” Din repeats, more fortified. You nod, and then beam at him and the baby, pushing your shoulders back. “This is a lot,” he says, his voice still tinged slightly with anxiety, “are you sure?”

You step as close as you can, reaching your hand up to bring his face down to yours, tipping your foreheads together. “Din Djarin,” you whisper, “I’m sure. We were always meant for something more. And,” you continue, smiling, mouth an inch away from his, “I don’t scare easy.”

AUTHOR'S NOTE: i am literally sitting here, emotional, crying as i write this. this has been the journey of a lifetime. i hope you all love this last chapter, and i hope it gives you that something more that Nova and Din found together. this last chapter, this grand finale, it's dedicated to every single one of you. thank you for being my readers, supporters, and friends. i hope this ending is everything you've dreamed. more notes, as always, are at the end. <3

A year ago, almost to the day, if you’ve counted correctly, you crash landed on Nevarro and the entirety of the rest of your life shifted somewhere huge and cosmic. You’ve always been a believer—in something bigger, something great, something more—but the second you met Din, and then the baby…well, everything seemed to just click into place. From Nevarro’s molten surface, to Bespin’s back alleys, to the excursions into the Mid Rim, to falling in love on Naator, to saying yes to the most romantic proposal on Yavin, to heartbreak and back on Dantooine, to all of the lives you’ve lost and the ones you’ve lived, all the way straight back into the Rebel Alliance, to losing your kid and your fiancé and then somehow coming out on top of it, ready to unite the remainder of the Jedi and the people of Mandalore and every single Rebel you know to pull off the greatest eradication of evil since the Death Star blew, you genuinely and sincerely can’t imagine your life being any other way.

And when you look over to the man you love, his helmet off, every contour of his gorgeous face in your full view, it makes your heart ache in your chest. Not in the way it did when you stumbled and drowned in the losses along the journey, not the way it did when he left you to protect you back on Dantooine, but in a way that feels just as huge and cosmic as the last year has been. You know war is on the horizon. You know there’s so many battles out there left to fight, and to hopefully win. You’ve come a hell of a way since being bounty hunter and babysitter, respectively. And all of it, every second, you think was worth it to get to this moment.

Because you’re not only about to be the wife of the king of Mandalore, you’re not only about to spearhead an entirely revitalized Rebel Alliance to take down the evil the Empire left over in the shadows, but you’re about to do all of it after meeting Luke Skywalker. And there’s something just as starry and explosive about your old life meeting your new one, just as bright, just as shiny.

Din’s quiet. You’re buzzing with adrenaline and anxiety and everything in between, but you’re trying to stay calm. Mandalore is a serene orb on the horizon, and you watch it through the blinking mirrors on Kicker’s dashboard as you slowly coast through the stars. Everything out here, when you’re not in warp, feels like everything is drawing towards something more. Not an ending. Never an ending. But there’s something poignant in each dazzling ball of gaseous light, as if this journey is a transformation.

“Where’s your head?” Din asks, lowly, and the spark in his voice is enough to break you out of your reverie.

“On you,” you answer, immediately, flashing a wide smile towards him, “as always, my big brave Mand’alor boyfriend.”

Din winces, just a little, but you can see the small beginnings of a smile etched into his face, a reflection of yours. “That one doesn’t seem as catchy.”

You laugh, throwing your head back, your loose hair dancing down your spine. You feel the way his eyes roam over you—not just hungry, not just with desperation—but with ease. So much has changed, and yet this, right here, the two of you in the cockpit, heading into the stars, this is so familiar you could do it in your sleep.

“Give me time,” you answer, finally, grinning back over at him, “I’ll come up with something better.”

Din’s quiet, and you turn your attention back to the space around you. It’s quiet out here. Peaceful, even though so much of the galaxy is rife with stress and there’s evil lurking out there in the shadows you and the rest of the team have to yank back into the light. And you know this is just the beginning—that the last time the Empire won, it took almost twenty full years to defeat them, and even longer to put anything right—but knowing you’re moving forward, you’re secretly married with the leader of a planet, you have an entire squadron of people caught from all haphazard places in the galaxy, and that your family’s going to be reunited in a matter of days, feels like you’re coming home in a way you haven’t felt in years.

“Nova,” Din starts, and then falls back into his silence. You glance back at him. The muted interior of Kicker reflects back onto the beskar, makes it look like it’s camouflaged. If it were anyone else, if you didn’t know him as intently as you do, you’d be on edge with Din disappearing into the ship. But you can feel his steady heartbeat, you know he’s right behind you, and, more than anything, he’s yours. Nothing about him scares you. Not even a little bit. Not even at all. “Do—do you really think we can pull this off?”

You sigh, flicking the switch so Kicker goes into autopilot, and then you slowly turn around him in your chair so you can face Din in yours. “Yes,” you say, gently, conviction seeping into your voice. “Yes, I think we can pull this off. You’re going to be the best leader Mandalore’s ever had, I’m going to work with the Alliance, we’re going to get our kid back, and we’re going to eradicate the First Order, whoever and wherever they are. We’re going to pull it all off, Din,” you continue, earnestly, leaning forward in your seat, holding his gorgeous gaze. “It’s not going to be easy. It’s not going to be quick. But we’re going to do it.”

Din holds your eyes. There’s something strange behind his own. “How are you so optimistic, even after everything?”

You blink, hand finding the Rebel insignia around your neck, fingers pressing down against the smoothness of the metal. You swallow. It holds heavier against your throat than your mother’s did, but something about the beskar carving makes it feel totally indestructible. A small beacon of fortification. Something to bring you out to sea and back to shore again. “Like I told Gideon,” you say, finally, “I have hope.”

He’s quiet. You are, too. Eventually, Din leans forward, hand linking with yours, meeting you right in the middle. “Don’t lose that.”

You shoot a small, guarded smile back at him. “I held onto it even when I thought you abandoned me back on Dantooine. I think I can keep this part of me alive forever, and I think it’s strong enough to keep it alive in you, too.”

Din stares at you. “I need you to know,” he starts, voice low and urgent, “that I’m so sorry. For leaving you. For not including you in my decisions. For—” he cuts himself off, inhaling sharply, “for breaking your trust. I messed up. I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to fix it. All I can promise you,” he continues, hand tightening its grip in yours, “is that I’m never going to do it again.”

You look at him. There’s still that burning pyre in your chest, that fear that he’s going to disappear and not come back, that some sort of fate will lightning strike between the two of you, but the anger that lived there for so long has completely dissipated. You love him. You take a shaky breath, holding up your left hand. The beskar encircling your ring finger glints in Kicker’s low light. “I believe you,” you say, finally, laying it all bare. You inhale, biting down on your lower lip. “That’s what this is all about,” you continue, wriggling your fingers, “right? I know you,” you say, leaning closer, hair falling over your shoulder. His eyes track the movement of it, free, unencumbered. “I love you,” you continue, nodding slightly. “And I trust you. So I believe you.”

Din inhales. “Nova,” he starts, “do—do you ever think you’ll forgive me for leaving you back on Dantooine—”

And then he’s cut off, because Kicker starts screaming. It’s not the same warbled screech that haunted the comm back on Khubeaie, not that desperate kind of wailing. She’s warning you, you realize, as you let your hand drop out of Din’s and whirl back around to man the controls yourself. Din reacts almost completely in sync, but you saw the spark of ache in his eyes before he finished asking his question. Your stomach flips over.

Something’s failing. You know that. You’re not sure why, but the ship starts flickering and sinking, even when you’re supposedly moving on a full fuel tank, and even while you know you fixed all the major issues before you left Mandalore. Bo-Katan had even given the ship a very begrudging once-over, and you know her seal of approval is very hard to come by. Frustrated, you press all the right buttons, trying to calculate what exactly the issue is.

Your comm blinks. “Come in,” a voice rings, and for a second, everything floods into fight-or-flight. You’re running completely on adrenaline, still high from saying your wedding vows the night before, and you haven’t had more than one consecutive night of good sleep in months. Quickly, you flash your eyes on Din. “Come in,” the voice on the other end of the line says again, and it’s urgent enough for you to raise your wrist to your mouth, make you speak.

“Who am I speaking to—”

“Your ship’s haunted.”

You stare into the comm, back at Din, and then into your comm again, as if any of this will somehow crystallize the absolute nonsense that’s ringing in your ears. “What?” you say, still thinking you’re losing it, and then, before you can do anything else, you hear blaring on the other line.

“Not haunted,” another voice says, tiredly, and it’s not until Slave I pops out of warp that you realize you’re talking to Boba and Fennec. “Ships don’t get haunted,” she continues, “you just didn’t fix your disabled comm system when we first scrambled your signal. That’s the issue.”

You squint. You can’t see her, of course, everything about the ship is covered in tinted windows, but you want Fennec Shand to feel the full force of your disapproval and confusion. “You scrambled my signal? But that was days before—”

“Had to get a hold of you somehow,” the other voice says, and you exhale, shaking your head. “That was her doing. Not mine. The ship’s comm system is, for lack of a better term, haunted. Land on this planet.”

“We have to go to Hoth,” you protest, halfheartedly. “That was the plan.”

You can hear the wry smile in Boba Fett’s voice. “Oh, they won’t like me on Hoth, Rebel.”

You raise your eyebrow over at Din. By the way his helmet’s cocked, you know he’s laughing under there. “Too bad,” you shoot back, flipping switches on the dashboard as Din’s plugging in the coordinates to the ice giant nearby, “they’re gonna have to deal with it, because you’re with me.”

With a relatively boring flight and endless grumbling from Boba Fett, the two of your ships touch down on Hoth. It makes your stomach flip over. Everything in you is still buzzing—all that emotional resonance, all that fluttery anxiety of standing on the precipice of something more—and you can barely hear Din as he slips his helmet back on and gestures you to slide down the ladder after him. You feel alive. Dazzlingly, excitedly so.

Everyone complains about the cold. It assaults all of you the second the gangplanks are lowered, but there’s something so warm inside of you that you barely feel the bite of the chill. You flash a big smile at Wedge and the various members of the New Rogue Squadron as they greet you at the thermalock door, the warm breeze that greets you the second you step into the light downright summery compared to the ice.

“Did you talk to Luke?” Wedge asks, his voice low and complicated, as he leads your ragtag group to the control room. You don’t know why he’s whispering, but you follow suit.

“All I got from his last hologram,” you sigh, rubbing your icy fingers together, “is that he wants to see me in person.”

Wedge raises an eyebrow. “Really?”

You glance back over at him, eyebrows furrowed down the middle. “Yeah. Was that not what he told you?”

Wedge chews on his bottom lip. “He didn’t really say much of anything,” he admits as you round the last corner, “just that he needed to speak with you, as soon as possible, and that it was important. I’m not used to him being so secretive.”

You shoot him a small smile. “Is that unlike him?”

Wedge’s expression is wry, but his eyes sparkle. “The Luke Skywalker I know could talk to an empty moon for years before he realized there’s no one talking back.”

A grin breaks across your face. As Wedge walks around to his usual command spot on the other side of the holotable, you bite back your smile and stand at yours, feeling a very strange sense of pride as your unlikely team lines up behind you. Din is fully armored, but the set of his shoulders is much more relaxed than the last time he was there. Boba, especially with his newly refurbished armor, sticks out like a sore thumb. The generals across from you are defensive, not taking their eyes off of him for a second. Fennec doesn’t look like she belongs, either, but you have a very strong feeling that Fennec Shand doesn’t belong to anything except the chaos she craves. Still, there’s a determined set to her face that shows you she’s on your side. Mixed in with the rest of the semicircle are Cara and Karga, who don’t exactly blend in, but wear the same proverbial colors of the rest of the people at the table.

“New Rogue Squadron,” Wedge starts, his eyes dancing all over everyone stationed at the holotable, “meet our newcomers.”

“We’ve met,” one general says, disapprovingly, looking Boba Fett up and down.

Wedge lets Boba step forward menacingly for exactly two seconds before he steps forward, just an inch, and retakes command. “Refamiliarize yourself, then. We’re all on the same side here. We are,” he cuts himself off, lowering his voice, looking straight at you, “all on the same side here, right?”

You nod. “Who here wants the Empire eradicated for good?” Everyone’s hands go up. You cross your arms over your chest, raising an eyebrow at Fennec, the only one in the room that doesn’t have her hand in the air. “Fennec?”

She looks back at you, her eyes alive, a reflecting pool. “I like to be on the winning team.”

“Well,” you level, “here, you certainly are.”

She cracks a grin, and then her hand extends in a perfect line above her head. “I have a feeling,” she says, tongue snaking out and wetting her bottom lip, “that you don’t break promises often.”

“She doesn’t,” Din chimes in from behind you. You feel the heat rush to your cheeks, and you look back at Wedge, turning back over command.

“Alright then,” Wedge says, leaning forward, bracing each hand on the glimmering edge of the table, “let’s get started.”

The two of you talk first. You recount a very abridged version of the events, starting from when you and Din left Hoth last, all the way up to everything that happened on Mandalore. You glaze over the more unsavory bits back on Cantonica, only wincing slightly when you smooth over the fight in the back alley, the way that you were close to death. You can still smell that creep’s breath if you focus too hard on the memory, so you think instead of the way Din plunged the Darksaber into his chest. You bridge the gap by introducing Cara and Karga to the rest of the group huddled around the table, talking about your reunion on Nevarro, and how they were tracking down ex-convicts and members in the Guild, respectively, to uncover any new information on the Order. You finish, warily, with Gideon’s final statements, how he promised you the Order was going to come and take anyone with power they could manipulate for their own, how his eyes glinted when he told you that all Jedi would either be eradicated or turned into weapons. Finally, you close with his death, Bo-Katan’s measured rage, the battle over the Darksaber that chose Din again and made both of you basically royalty. Wedge’s face shifts as you tell him the last bit, your eyes very focused on his and not anyone else’s. You know that being associated with the current Mand’alor puts even more of a target on your back than it did when you were simply an exiled Rebel and bounty hunter, but you keep your chin up. You don’t care about the royalty aspect of it, don’t love the idea of being in charge of other people, especially after fighting for so long to be your own autonomous being. But you like the idea that Din is the rightful leader, and there’s not a chance in hell anyone—especially not the First Order—is going to take that from him.

You turn it over to Wedge, who’s still looking strangely at you. It’s not judgment. It’s not questioning. It takes about halfway through his opening remarks for you to classify it as pride. You step back as he talks, hiding a small smile.

“We have our work cut out for us,” he sighs, and you tune back in. “None of this is going to be easy. I’m going to ask you all one last time,” he says, crossing his arms over his chest, a flurry of orange against the stark, cool interior of the base, “if you want out, this is where you leave. No hard feelings. But it needs to be now.”

No one moves an inch. Not a single general. Not Cara or Karga. Not Boba or Fennec, who both seem to be much more involved with this idea than they showed at first glance. Behind you, Din steps just an inch closer, and you feel your body filling up with warmth in his close proximity.

“That’s what I thought,” Wedge says, that smile of pride etched into his face again. “Here’s what we’ve found out. There isn’t a lot of information on anything related to the empire left, save for libraries and research archives, and of course, the lived experiences of everyone in this room,” He pauses, bringing up an image on the holotable. You see the flickering images of both Death Stars, and you hide a small shiver at how impending and filled with doom they look, even on this imitation of a screen. “We knocked both of these out,” Wedge continues, pointing at the rotating stars. “We made extra care to do it the second time,” he says, gesturing at the bigger and more reinforced of the two, “and then we tried to eradicate every single building plan the Empire had stashed away. I can’t promise that schematics didn’t survive, because I think there were parts of their regime that were a lot smarter than others. But we’ve made it our major effort over the last few years to put in as many annoying and massive roadblocks as we possibly can so that nothing can rise from the ashes. And yet,” he sighs, bringing up an image of Gideon on the screen, “this Order survived.”

“What makes you think they didn’t start after the Empire was eradicated?” Din asks, which causes more of the generals to mutter to one another.

“Because—” Wedge starts.

“I’ve seen this before,” you interrupt, gently. “Almost everyone associated with the Alliance did, too. I wasn’t alive when Darth Vader rose to power, but it didn’t just happen out of nowhere. It was calculated. It was planned. There was a large league of evil hiding under the surface, they were just good at hiding it. We wouldn’t have any idea that the Order exists now, except everyone we’ve fought has huge egos and can’t stop shouting it from the rooftops.” You glance back at Wedge. “I’m sorry. I cut you off.”

“You hit the nail on the head,” Wedge says, approvingly, giving you a quick nod. “With Gideon dead, it’s easy to think that most of the evil that’s terrorized the Outer Rim is gone, or—well, at least dormant. But that’s not the truth. They’re strategic in their darkness because they won’t survive without it.”

“Do we know exactly who we’re dealing with?” Cara asks, stepping forward. You watch as her strong, full figure fills the frame of the holotable. Everyone’s eyes are on her. “With Gideon dead, we don’t have much to go on.”

“I know,” you agree tiredly, dragging a hand over your face. “That—that was not the plan. But in that moment, it was what had to be done,” you amend, chancing a look back at Din. “No. There’s no new figurehead that we know of. From my experience—our experience—though, they wanted Grogu and me for a reason. It wasn’t to use our Force sensitivity as a weapon, like we had originally thought. They experimented on the baby when they took him,” you say, voice shaking a little, “and extracted something from his blood. Midichlorians. I don’t know, exactly, what they are or how they work. I’m a little new to the Jedi thing. But I know they have something to do with how we harness our energy, whatever it is that makes the Force up. Back on Cantonica, the people who tried to grab us insinuated using us—or our power—as weapons wasn’t their current mission, but it would be. And then when we spoke to Gideon back on Mandalore, he said the same thing. But his motivation may not have been the same.” You swallow. “He was scared,” you say, slowly. “Of them. The First Order. He admitted it. He was never in charge. He was a pawn, the same way they want to make us.” You stare at his rotating image on the table, tinted blue. You hate it. Even in this mugshot, he looks smug. It’s an expression that you know won’t go away for a long time after his death. “Whatever’s out there,” you finish, quiet, “it’s big, and it’s coming. We need to be ready. Because when it does, we’re going to have to give them everything we’ve got.”

“Well said,” Wedge says, looking around the room. “Anyone else got an update?”

A few of the other members of the Alliance step forward, confirming and denying a flurry of half-baked theories. Cara fills the rest of you in on what she’s learned from the people that are out of the prison system, which is really a whole lot of nothing. Most of the more dangerous criminals with the heinous crimes are still in prison, and those who have gotten out want to life a quiet, peaceful life. She talks about the refinery explosion back on Morak, the way she knows a few spots of Empire sympathizers, but other than surface-level information, she hasn’t gotten deep into any of her contacts. Karga and the Guild is the same. You can feel the way Din’s eyes are boring into him, the measured way he’s scrutinizing his face. Karga’s slippery, but he’s never posed a real threat, and there’s a kindness to him you wouldn’t expect in a bounty hunter.

Then again, you just secretly married one of the most dangerous bounty hunters in the galaxy, and under all that beskar, there’s nothing but a heart of gold.

You smile, hiding the grin under guise of your hand stroking your lip. As if he can read your mind, Din steps so that the plate of beskar on his thigh bumps up against the back of yours. Even through your pants, you can feel how cold it is, how unyielding. How different it is than the man who wears it. The rest of the Alliance turn in small bits and pieces of information. Wedge uses the holotable to input everything, to keep as both map and record. You stare as it projects more and more of blue data. If you unfocus your eyes, it looks like stars.

Eventually, the conversation dies down. “One more time,” Wedge calls out, “do we have anything else to update, or shall we divide and conquer before our next rendezvous?”

Again, no one speaks. The slowly cartographed map projecting up from the table stands as proof that even without a ton of information, you’re starting a long and valiant fight. You feel fortified on that alone. Wedge dismisses everyone, and then you hear a modulated voice behind you.

“Actually,” Din says, his voice rough through the modulator, “I have something.”

Wedge raises his eyebrow, nodding to encourage Din to continue.

“I…” he starts tiredly, sighing, “am the ruler of Mandalore now. I didn’t want it, nor did I ever ask for it, but it’s a responsibility I have to deal with. But I made a promise to Nova,” he continues, knocking his knee slightly against yours. To the outside eye, it doesn’t look like he’s moved at all, but you know it happened. “And I’m going to follow her. I’m in this fight as much as the rest of you are, now, and that’s not changing. So, I would like to move the Rebel base to Mandalore,” Din finishes, finally, to a mixed crowd.

“Mandalore,” the older general says, gruffly, “is not ours to claim. They don’t take kindly to strangers of our kind.”

“I know that’s the history,” Din answers evenly, “but it’s going to be different now. This…this First Order, they don’t seem to only be after Rebels. If we’re not careful and strategic about the way we fight back, they might slip through the cracks. I think cracking down on another fascist regime is something that the Rebels and the people of Mandalore could agree on.”

“I beg to differ,” Wedge says, but his voice is light. “Listen, we’ve been base-hopping since before the first Death Star was blown to bits. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but there’s not a ton of us left. I don’t know if relocation is the smartest idea, not right now.”

You can feel Din’s anger underneath the suit. It’s not directed at Wedge, but the complication of accidentally becoming the ruler of an entire planet isn’t easily dissolved.

“What if we don’t move the base?” you step in. “What if we kept the order of operations on Hoth, but we have a small squadron of people who work out of Mandalore so we keep in touch? The commute is short,” you continue, bringing up the distance between the two planets on the table, “and scattering our protection across the Outer Rim is probably smart, anyway.” You look from Din to Wedge. Everyone else is quiet. “None of this is ideal,” you press on, slightly worried about the tension floating up around everyone in the room, “but I think we’ve more than proven that we’re on the same team, and that we’re going to fight like hell. If the First Order emerges from more than just these shadows,” you continue, chancing a glance around the rest of the room, “then we revaluate where the base is. But right now, I think we should focus on communication instead of relocation.”

“Fine by me,” Wedge answers, easily, and you feel the rest of the anxiety in the room lessen. “Does that work for you?”

Din turns to you. You nod, just once, pleading through your eyes alone. Finally, he gives a swift nod, agreeing without saying a word of contempt or assurance. You smile over at Wedge, nodding again.

“Then the rest of you are dismissed,” Wedge says, with a note of finality. Murmurs fill the room as people start flowing outside of the doors. He looks over at Boba, who, like Cara, Fennec, and Karga, haven’t moved an inch. “You’re really in this?” There’s something complicated in his voice. You can’t quite place it. “You’re not going to try to sabotage us? Or take any of us out?”

Boba steps forward. If you weren’t well-trained in Mandalorian body language, you’d take his commanding presence as a threat. Wedge bends his knees a little, lifting his chin. “I’m not a bounty hunter anymore,” he answers, voice low and smooth. “I’m just a simple man, trying to make his own way in this galaxy.”

You can tell from Wedge’s expression that he doesn’t trust a single word out of Boba Fett’s mouth. “If you won’t cause any harm to us,” he continues, “can you promise me that you’d say the same for Luke Skywalker?”

Boba crosses his arms. Wedge stands taller. “I want to knock Skywalker into that Sarlacc pit and come out in one piece,” he says, and even though his voice is even, it’s not filled with the malice it was when you first met him on Khubeaie. “I don’t care if he lives or dies. I just assume that he’s integral to this whole…eradication of the First Order. So until they’re dead and gone, I won’t touch a pretty blonde hair on his head. Afterward?” He pauses, as if to seriously ponder it. “I can’t promise you what I’ll do next.”

Wedge regards him. Because you’ve known him practically your whole life, you can see his tell of fear. It lives on, like a little flame beyond the blackness in his eyes. Finally, he nods. “That’s fair.”

Boba nods, relaxes his stance. He turns to you. “We’ll keep searching,” he promises, and you flash him a quick smile. Fennec nods, confirming his words. “We do still have unfinished business on Tatooine. But send us a hologram when you’re about to be coronated,” he continues, turning to Din. You can hear the wry humor hidden in his voice, “I want to see the look on the Kryze girl’s face when you’re officially Mand’alor.”

You want to placate Din by telling Boba that they’ve firmly agreed to a truce, but Din doesn’t rush to explain any of this to the other Mandalorian. “You got it,” he says, easily, and then the two of them are gone, heading back to where Slave I is parked. You look over at Cara, whose arms are still exposed in this icy room. She’s not even shivering. You think maybe she’s the only person in the galaxy who could literally intimidate cold and dissuade it from touching her. Karga, on the other hand, is practically turning blue. He’s swaddled up in furs and a very fancy jacket, and yet, you can hear his teeth chattering. “Back to Nevarro for us,” he says, his voice a lot more strained than usual. “We’ll keep looking, too. I know this isn’t going to be easy,” he continues, turning his gaze to you, “but we don’t give up.”

“Ever,” Cara enunciates, knocking her shoulder into Din’s, giving your hand a quick squeeze. “Really. You’re in good hands,” she finishes, dropping her voice an octave, glancing up at Din.

“Oh,” you say, grinning brazenly, “I know.”

She flashes you another smile before the two of them depart the briefing room, too, and you’re left with Din and Wedge. You look back at your old friend, and you still see that vaguely disguised concern in his eyes. For a few moments, no one speaks. You exhale through your mouth and watch as the cold lights it up into frozen air.

“What did Luke say?” Wedge asks again. His voice is urgent. “When he sent you that second hologram?”

You look at him, eyebrows furrowed. “He just—he told me that he needed to speak with me, and that when I saw you next, you’d give me the coordinates of where to meet him. That’s it.” Wedge inhales, his breath slightly shaky. “Wedge, what—?”

“There’s something wrong with him,” Wedge finally says. “There’s this…sadness to him, now, this quiet. When I first met Luke, he talked my ear off for three days before I was able to get a word in edgewise. He whined. He was oppositional. More than anything, he had the biggest heart of almost anyone else I’ve ever known.” His eyes meet yours. “You give him a run for his money, though, rebel girl. We—the last time I was…with him,” he continues, guarded. You have a feeling that he’s intentionally censoring himself, but you don’t push it. You know the way his face lights up whenever Luke is mentioned. And you haven’t met him yet, but you’d be more than willing to bet that Luke feels the same away about Wedge. “The last time we were together,” Wedge continues, “he…he told me that he was going to try and rebuild the Jedi Order, that he wanted to locate all of the sacred texts and find anyone else out there. To create a sense of community. Then he basically disappeared. I had to get to him through Leia, which wasn’t an easy feat, either, and she finally told me he was off on a planet none of us had never heard of before.” Wedge sighs. Something in you sparked when he mentioned Leia, and you’re trying your very hardest to keep your cool, because if there’s anyone in the Alliance you hold in higher regard than Luke Skywalker, it’s his twin sister. “When he contacted me again, he just seemed…heavy. Haunted,” Wedge amends, “and urgent. Like he’s running out of time.”

You stare at Wedge until his eyes find yours again. “I’ll help him,” you say, gently, stepping forward. “I don’t know what he wants from me. I only know him from stories. But whatever it is, I’m here to help. Okay?”

Wedge sighs. “Okay.” He looks back between you and Din, and then the small, easy smile he regularly sports flits across his face. “He’s on Ahch-To. In the Unknown Regions. He wants you to meet him there, and he wants the two of you to come alone.”

“That,” Din finally says, breaking his silence, “will not be a problem.”

Wedge smiles up at him, too. “I like you,” he says, gently slapping Din’s forearm. “Stay alive and don’t let this one go, Mandalorian.”

“Trust me,” Din assures him, as Wedge pulls the data drive from the holotable so that the two of you can keep a copy of everything in your journey to Luke and back to Mandalore, “those are my two top priorities.”

Hoth is cold. Space is colder. Usually, by the time you’re out in the stars, it’s impossible to feel empty and chilled, but you’re hurtling through warp to the Unknown Regions, and there’s something so dark and desolate about this corner of the galaxy. It’s ancient, from what you can tell, and largely abandoned. Something here is bringing you an odd sense of quiet, but mostly, you feel that haunted, desperate feeling associated with the lurking, looming threat of the First Order, and you’re trying your best to ignore it.

Din rises up out of his seat and stands beside you. He dangles both of his hands into your line of sight, and you gently undo his gloves, letting them drop to the floor. His fingers slip under the fabric of your shirt and start pressing on where the ache has blossomed and hardened. “You carry all of your stress here,” he murmurs, digging his thumbs into the knots that line your shoulders.

“Hard to feel stressed,” you hum happily, “when you’re doing this.”

He tips your head back. You stare upside down into the visor, and then his hands disappear from your shoulders to pull the helmet off. You hide your small sigh under the noise of the hiss that his mask makes, and when you’re face to face, something kickstarts like a drum in your chest.

You’ll never get tired of seeing Din’s face. Not now, not ever. It’s complicated and etched with so much worry, but when he looks at you, everything has quieted. It’s just the two of you, the crush of space, and the promise of being a real family on the horizon. It makes everything in you swell and burst like a eager tide against the shoreline. “I love you,” you whisper, and he strokes his thumb over your cheek.

He smiles. It’s such a rare thing, that genuine smile. It shines on long after it’s left his face. “Ni kar’tayl su,” he agrees, and then, so softly you may have imagined it, “Novalise.”

When he comes in for a kiss, he spins your chair around so fast that you don’t even have enough air in your legs. He kneels down so that his face is level with yours, knocking his forehead gently against his. You wrap both of your arms up and around his neck, staring into his deep, brown, expressive eyes as he holds both of your cheeks with the palms of his large hands, breathing in his scent of cleanness and metal and smoke and, still, cinnamon.

“Do you remember,” he starts, his voice thick, “when we…we first met, and I asked you how old you were?”

You nod, quietly, feeling his hair brush up against yours. “Yeah,” you say, softly. You can feel your heart beating quickly in the left side of your chest.

“That,” Din sighs, “was a year ago today.”

You look up at him, startled. “You counted?”

He nods, still with his forehead against yours. “You’re not twenty-five anymore,” he says, quietly, “and I didn’t get you a birthday gift.”

You smile, pulling away, only slightly, so you can see his eyes. “We have been a little busy,” you say, grinning. “I think I can forgive you on that one.”

He meets your gaze, low and intense. “Can you?” Din asks, and as you’re registering the weight of the words of forgiveness, he’s taking off your pants. There’s something desperate and hungry in his eyes as he works them off of you, dragging his bare hands up and over your thighs. You gasp with the lightness of his touch, and when his mouth moves up in between your legs, you think his tongue can work miracles. Huge ones. Devastating ones. You’re pretty sure Din’s mouth alone could bring about galaxy-wide peace, except you don’t want it anywhere except for buried in your pussy.

You let out a strangled moan, low and wet, and right as his tongue starts furiously circling your clit, Kicker starts fucking hollering.

You could kill her. You love her, the home you’ve made in her, how she’s kept you safe, but right now, if ships could be strangled, you would absolutely throttle her. Sighing, you wrench your pants back up over your hips.

“I’m not done,” Din warns, and the image of him wiping the slick off of his lips replays in the back of your mind as you try to yank your attention back to your screeching ship.

“What’s wrong?” you mutter, checking through the laundry list of flips and switches and buttons, trying to figure out why Kicker’s on high alert. It takes a second, but then you see it—black TIE fighters, wicked and sharp, arachnid and blending into the crush of space. “Shit,” you murmur under your breath, strapping yourself back in. Before you can warn Din to do the same, lightning-quick, he bolts his safety belt. You crack your neck back and forth, shaking your fingers free of the cold cabin interior and any leftover jitters you’re still feeling from Din’s mouth on you.

“Where did they come from?” Din asks, and you recognize that his voice is modulated, his helmet back on in a flash. “We’re in the middle of nowhere—”

“Warp,” you call back, as the first one fires. It’s not their stereotypical light blast—something about it is just as dark and insidious as their ships are. You escape it, but narrowly, and you yank Kicker up to evade the shot. “Every time. Every single time. How the hell,” you call back at him, firing off a few rounds of your own, “do they find us this easily?”

“Well,” Din answers, over the noise, “your ship isn’t exactly the most inconspicuous, even with the modifications—”

“Hold on,” you interrupt, barrel rolling over on yourself, evading another blast. It careens into some debris of a nearby asteroid field, and you wince as it collides. “Do you think it’s because they know that Gideon’s dead?” The word feels heavy in your mouth. You gulp, setting everything to stun, dropping some of your height so that you can avoid the new shots they’re volleying at you.

“How could they?” Din yells back, and then a blast hits Kicker. You scream with the impact, loud and uncontrolled, as it drains your shields. You can’t tell how bad the damage is, but nothing is burning or smoking, even though Kicker’s screeching at you again. You’re almost positive she’s a sentient being, at this point, because she’s always so humanoid in her reactions. You grunt, hauling the ship as far right as you can get, blasting one of the three fighters with your own artillery. “I’m going to arm the cannon,” Din says, and you don’t have time to tell him that the defense system at the back of Kicker is a mess of wires and buttons, and that you’re not even sure if the rear artillery works, before he’s gone in a flash.

It turns out, the rear artillery does work. It’s no masterclass in shooting, but Din knows his way around his weapons, even ones he’s never used before. You’re exhausted, but you yank Kicker up and over, avoiding another blast. You stare at the fighters as they whiz around you. There’s a darkness to them that you don’t entirely understand, but when they start shooting again, you’ve had enough. You hate killing. You still carry the tally marks of the lives you’ve ended deep inside your chest. You know all of them by heart. But you’re willing to let these people take a few punches with Kicker’s best cannons, because you’ve had enough of them trying to take everything you love away from you for what feels like the millionth time.

“Up!” Din yells from the back of the ship, and you take every single atom of strength you have last in your body to wrench all of the thrusters upward, careening Kicker dizzily into the mess of the stars above. The fighters follow you, lightning quick. Din shoots, hard and heavy, with what feels like all the ammo left on the ship, but then you’re out and the one right on your tail shoots another blast. Everything in Kicker shakes, screams, and then slowly starts to power down. You can feel her sliding into sleep.

“Not like this,” you mutter, furious, flipping every switch you can think of, trying to make it the right way up so you can recalibrate your defense, if you have any left, or at least punch in new coordinates so you won’t die out here, lost in the crush of space. That same, awful feeling that filled you when you crash landed on Dagobah is running through you again. The last thing you think before you start moving is how horrible and lonely your parents’ deaths must have been when they were spinning to their terrible, fiery end.

The fighter closest to you fires again. You unbuckle. If you’re going to die like that, out here in the middle of nowhere in the Outer Rim, you’re going to get to your secret husband first and you’re going to tell him that you love him, that you don’t want to die alone, and that after this, after everything, of course you forgive him.

But you don’t have a chance. You slide across the floor, and scramble towards the ladder, and you can hear the uncharacteristic noise coming from Din down in the hull, and then everything quiets. It’s not possible. It can’t be.

A single X-wing comes out of nowhere. You stop your struggle to get downstairs. You forget everything else. Your jaw drops as your eyes track the ship. You know it before you see him. You know it because literally everything in you is shaking and screaming, every single last part of you that harnesses the Force is kaleidoscoping in the shape of Luke Skywalker, but you watch, stunned into complete silence, as he delivers three blasts, knocking each fighter down into space. You watch their trails dizzy down to nothing as everything filters back in. Din hurls himself up the ladder, promptly crashes into you, and then you’re both tangled up on the floor together.

“Nova,” Din mutters.

“That’s—” you stop, blinking, trying to take the image in, still, everything locked on the X-Wing you can see out of the starboard window, jabbing at the shape of his ship with a shaky finger, “that’s—Luke Skywalker—”

“Kicker is failing,” Din says, patiently, and then, not nearly as patiently, he grabs your face. “Hey! You either need to get her down on the nearest planet or I will, but either way, I’m not dying out here.”

“Not dying. Right,” you say, dazed, and then the adrenaline kicks back in. “Um—” you get up, heaving yourself back to a standing position with all the weight you can on the heels of your hands. You throw yourself back into the pilot’s chair. Kicker is screaming. Your comm blinks, and you raise it, still not entirely aware of what you’re doing. “Hello?”

“You need to help me ground your starfighter,” the voice warbles across the intercom, and you choke back a sob. It’s him. It’s him. You have absolutely no idea what he means, but General Luke Skywalker is talking to you. “Your kid told me he did it before.”

You squint. “My kid—?”

And then, like the sound of a million tiny, glorious bells ringing all at once, you hear Grogu’s laugh. You choke back a sob. Din’s hand finds your knee, clenches it in something that feels an awful lot like relief.

“It’s too big for us to do it alone,” Luke’s voice rings through again, “you need to use the Force.”

And, holy Maker and all the stars above, you do.

It’s not easy. You have no idea how Grogu did this alone, especially since the Crest was so much larger and clunkier than Kicker, but you let Din pilot the controls as you work with Luke and Grogu to bring the ship down as easily as you can to the closest planet. It’s not the most populated place, and you have no idea what the terrain will be like, but you put everything out of your mind except for getting to the ground in one piece.

Kicker isn’t in the best shape when you ground her, but she’s alive and, like her namesake, still kicking. You’re going to need more fuel, and definitely some repairs on the starboard side, but you’re on the ground and alive. You disembark down the gangplank, shivering even in your Rebellion-issued parka, because this ice giant is just as frozen and formidable as Hoth is, and even vaster. Din looks completely untouched in his usual beskar, but he grabs and releases his hand as Luke Skywalker’s X-wing soars through the cloud cover, touching down a good distance away from your ship. Everything in you is alive and anxious, your heart beating out an intense staccato rhythm inside your ribcage. You know this isn’t a trick, that this is really Luke, that he has Grogu, that everything you’ve been working toward for the last year is meeting you face to face, but it’s still making your knees buckle under the weight of it. When you see him moving down the ladder, you can’t help yourself, running straight towards the ship. Luke turns around, and you skid to a stop in the snow, staring at him. When he shifts, you can see Grogu safely nestled in his robes, and you choke back a small sob.

The second your child sees you, he starts crying. You do, too. The chill freezes the tears on your face, but you don’t care, and you’re running again. Grogu stretches out his tiny green arms toward you. You vaguely register that Luke Skywalker has a smile on his face, but the only thing you’re focused on at all is Grogu, and when you pick him up, he smiles at you, sniffling, latching his small body against yours as tight as he possibly can.

“I missed you, bug,” you whisper. Your words are whisked away by the howling wind, but you don’t even care. You know he can hear it. “I missed you so much.”

He warbles, and you hold him even tighter, tipping your forehead against his tiny, wrinkled green one. Din catches up to the two of you, and you turn around, beaming, eagerly passing the baby to his dad. Grogu throws himself against Din’s armor, with zero regard to how cold the beskar is, happy to simply share in his warmth.

You’re still crying. Ugly sobbing, really, slobber all over your face, and you drag the sleeve of your jacket across your nose, hoping that it’ll amend some of your tears and the remnants it left behind.

“He’s missed you for a long time,” Luke’s voice rings out, and you turn around. You stare at him. He has a warm, big smile on his face, an unencumbered one, which is in high demand these days. His blue eyes are kind and endearing, and he tracks Grogu’s movements with great care. You stare at him, mouth slightly ajar, trying to dream up any words to string together to express your gratitude. “I’m—”

“General Skywalker,” you interrupt in a rush, wincing. “M—Master Skywalker. It’s such a pleasure to meet you.”

He smiles at you. “You can just call me Luke.”

You nod profusely. You have the strange feeling that you’re meeting royalty, and you don’t know what to do with your hands. “I—I’m Nova. Novalise. But you can call me Nova.”

His gaze drifts from your face to Din and the baby. He nods once at Din, and you can tell there’s something yearning behind his kind eyes. Luke looks back at you. “I’ve wanted to meet you for a long time,” he continues, stepping toward you. “I’ve seen you. In visions. In the baby’s head.”

You nod, swallowing. “What did you want to talk to me about?”

The wind howls. You shiver, feeling your nose turn red from the chill. Luke shakes a bit, too, which seems notoriously human from someone so legendary, before you remember he grew up on a desert planet and probably has zero resistance to the cold. He takes another step toward you. “How long have you been having premonitions?”

You blink at him. “How did you—?”

Luke offers a tired smile. “I can sense them in you,” he answers, gently. “You’ve been in mine. I can only assume you’ve seen me in yours. When did they start?”

“A few months ago,” you answer, honestly, sifting your weight more evenly between your feet. “I’ve always thought I was tapped into…something else. Something more. But this was different. It showed up in dreams, then the baby would show me his, then I started having them of my own. Sometimes, they’re clear, like before we met Ahsoka Tano. Sometimes, though, they’re vivid and completely nonsensical. You started showing up in them recently,” you tack on, faintly, “both how you look now and…what seems to be you much older. I can’t make sense of them.”

Luke tilts his head a fraction of an inch. “Have you ever met anyone else like you besides Grogu?” He offers up another small smile. “Or me?”

You shake your head. “No,” you say, earnestly, “no, it’s just…the three of us. Have you?”

The expression on his face changes, shifting enough for you to categorize the difference. “My nephew,” he answers, but there’s something slightly off about his voice. “I train him, sometimes, too. But he also has these visions, these—premonitions. For a long time, I was the only other Jedi I knew, and I just thought that was normal. I’ve been researching, and those types of premonitions aren’t the typical vision.”

You stare at him. “What—what are we seeing?”

“The future,” Luke says, grimly. “I think. I don’t know if it’s set in stone. But there’s this darkness coming. I know you’ve felt it. Wedge told me about your visions, but he didn’t need to.” His eyes search over your face. “I can see it. You’re like me, Nova.”

Despite everything, you grin back at him. “I can think of worse people to be like. Lucky me.”

And then you see it. What Wedge was talking about. A conflicted darkness flitters across Luke’s face, and then he does his best to absolve it. He does look so much older than you were imagining him to be—not by much, because he’s only a handful of years older than you are—but his eyes are haunted with an emptiness that comes with accumulated loss. And if he’s right, there’s more to come. Din steps in closer, carrying the baby. Grogu coos, and the youthful smile that Wedge talks about spreads across Luke’s face when he looks at the kid.

“I wanted to meet you,” Luke says, finally, turning his attention back to you, “because I wanted to see it in your eyes. The Force. I wanted to show you that…you’re strong, and you’re unique, and that can very easily make you a weapon. I’m here to tell you,” he continues, leaning in, “that you can choose not to be.”

You nod, locking eyes with him. “I’m a Jedi,” you say, slightly winded, but strong. “Or at least, I’m going to be. I’m not going to let the First Order take me.”

He blinks. “You know about the First Order?”

You nod again, then slowly shake your head. “No,” you admit, finally. “Nothing really beyond their name and their plans to use us as their weapon.”

Luke studies you carefully. “I thought—I was naïve, when I first started. I thought that turning my father back to the light and letting him kill the Emperor would end things. I was wrong. There’s more to come,” he says, gravely, looking out at the barren wasteland of the planet you’re on, “and I don’t think what died fully stayed dead.”

The familiar words rush over you, seizing in your diaphragm. “What did you just say—”

And then you’re cut off by the screech of TIE fighters. You flinch, grabbing the Darksaber off of Din’s belt, unsheathing the blade. There’s five of them. Luke, immediately, unholsters his own lightsaber, a piercing green. You’re captivated by it, by the determined set of his young face. He just looks like an expert. You take stock of his fighting stance, adjusting your legs to match his position. When the first blasts come, you brandish the Darksaber in front of you, sizzling away their attack. They swoop and soar around you. You hear the impact when one hits the beskar, Din knocked to the ground.

“Hey!” you call, running over to him, dropping the saber down by your side as Luke jumps and slices at the arachnid ships in the air. Your heart is in your throat. You didn’t see the hit, but you heard him fall, and frenzied worry is burning in your chest.

“I’m fine,” Din says, gruffly, “Fine, I promise. Go be a Jedi.”

You stare at him. He nods, wrapping Grogu up in his cloak, letting his tiny hands soar out in the open. Tiredly, the baby drags down one of the ships. More artillery is fired, and you pull Din and Grogu beyond a large shoal of ice, trying to avoid the blasts.

“Go be a Jedi,” Din repeats, and you shake your head. The fighters are so aggressive in their assault, but you watch as the swoop and soar around Luke, barely shooting anything in his direction. They want Din, you realize, like a lightning bolt in your chest, they want to attack Din and the baby because they’re after you. “Nova—”

“They’re trying to kill you,” you say, grabbing either side of the helmet as more blasts shake free some of the ice above your heads. “I’m supposed to be here—”

Before you can do anything, Din wrenches the helmet off. You stare at him, dumbfounded, trying to shield his face from the low, swooping fighters above your heads. “No—”

He kisses you. Full force. His lips are so much warmer than yours are, his tongue gentle and slithering into your mouth. You lean into the kiss, grabbing at him with everything you can, and then he’s pulled himself away. “I meant it when I asked you,” Din whispered urgently, “do you think you can forgive me for leaving you?”

Your heart is pounding. You can feel your eyes fill with tears. “Yes. But what are you—”

“Good,” Din answers, shoving the helmet back down, “then you can forgive me twice.”

And then he’s running, with Grogu in his arms, making a beeline straight for Kicker. You scream, but the sound gets ripped away in the wind. Terrified, you stare at Luke, who makes eye contact with you and extends his left palm, focusing on the first TIE fighter. You sheath the saber and run towards him, focusing all of your energy on the one that’s after Din. For what feels like forever, you stand back-to-back with Luke Skywalker, fighting off the evil surrounding you with nothing but the Force and each other. It feels huge in a way you can’t quantify, and even though you’re terrified with what Din’s doing, you don’t take your focus off the fighter for a second. When he’s back up the gangplank in Kicker, you help Luke tank the biggest one in the shoals of ice.

Two of them are grounded. You heave a heavy breath, trying to catch air in your lungs, and then the other three are delivering an array of artillery in your direction.

“Don’t let them touch my ship!” you scream, and Luke nods. You pull the Darksaber off of your belt, and swing it at the fighter that soars overhead, searing off their blasts.

“Nova!” Luke shouts back, and you turn to watch the holster of his green lightsaber fly through the air. Seamlessly, you grab it. The blade ignites immediately in your hand.

“What am I supposed to do with this?” you yell, and Luke twists around to stand by your side. You watch him as the three remaining fighters soar in above the two of you again, heart pounding.

Luke gives you a small smile. “What you’re meant to,” he answers easily, closing his eyes and lifting his hand to the three skeletal fighters in front of the both of you, “be a Jedi.”

You close your own eyes. Two people spill out of the fighters you’ve grounded, and you let Luke shoulder the three in the sky as you run, determined, towards the two men running angrily towards you. One of them lunges for you. You use the green blade to scare him off, but he doesn’t pay it any attention, just roars at you and tries to tackle you down to the ice.

“No you don’t,” you seethe, swiping the saber at his arm. It barely cuts anything, but the burn of it makes him howl. “You don’t get to have me.”

The other one is huge, menacing, built. You stare up at him, trying to only portray strength, not showing him a sliver of weakness, but when he comes for you, he’s vicious. This one’s smarter. He brought his blaster with him, and the bolts that he fires off are lethal and dangerous.

“You have no idea what you’re up against, little girl,” he smirks, and then, lightning quick, his hand closes around your throat. You’re not even sure how it happened, because you were brandishing Luke’s blade, and you’re much faster than the large figure in front of you, but the light behind your eyes starts to fade as he lifts you into the cold air, choking you out. “I’m not going to kill you,” he whispers, a horrible grin on his face, “what we’ll do will make you wish you were dead.”

You gasp, feeling the black spots in your vision slowly pinprick. You can barely see Luke. You don’t know where Din and Grogu went in Kicker. You can still hear the jeering of the soaring TIE fighters, and you know there’s only one thing left to do. You close your eyes, let everything run out of you backward, and then offer one, singular word to the universe.

Help.

Your consciousness fades back in. The man holding you drops you to the ground, and you wheeze and retch, trying to pull all of it back, stumbling away from his grip. It takes you a second to register what’s happening. Kicker comes out of nowhere, Din fires a series of blasts to the remaining fighters, Luke takes his lightsaber back to strike down both of the men, and above them all, Grogu has his eyes closed, his ears pushed back, and his little hands up in the air, using all of his tiny powerful body to Force choke the man who tried to throttle you.

You love him. Maker, you love him, so much. You cry up to him in relief, and the second he hears your voice, he stops, leaving the thug unconscious. Din uses up the rest of the artillery to blow the remaining fighters to bits, and then he grounds the ship.

The man, strangled, warbles out, “the First Order won’t forget this.”

Luke, icily, rises one eyebrow and his right hand, coaxing the man into a faint. “Neither,” he says, coolly, even after he’s sure the other guy’s out, “will we.”

“Thank you,” you say, warmly, rocketing the baby up in your arms. “Thank you, thank you—”

“His idea,” Din says, and you look up at him, both irritated and relieved. “I’m sorry I—”

“You,” you say, voice shaking, “are not forgiven.” But you jump on him as well, wrapping your arms around the cold beskar of his shoulders. “But thank you,” you whisper, in a voice so quiet that you know only he can hear it.

“This isn’t the end,” Luke says, behind you, and he tosses the Darksaber over to you. Din catches it midair with a singular hand. “This is just the beginning.”

“I’m not tired,” you say, exhausted, holding out his saber in your hand. “Thank you. For everything, thank you.”

“No. You hang onto that,” Luke says, finally. He has a strange expression in his eyes. “Keep the lightsaber. I have a feeling I’ll be seeing you again, soon enough.”

Grogu, nestled up in your arms, stares up at you. You know, even wordless, what his huge eyes are asking. “Can we—” you start, voice shaking, “can—can Grogu come back to Mandalore with us for a few days?”

You wait with bated breath. Luke nods, meeting your eyes. “When you bring him back to Ahch-To,” he agrees, the ghost of a smile sparking up his face again, “bring my lightsaber with you. I’ll teach you a few things.”

You nod, profusely. Luke nods at the both of you, and right as he’s turning to go back to his X-wing, you find the rest of your question from earlier.

“What did you mean?” you call out, after him. “When you said what died didn’t stay dead?”

Luke’s eyes are haunted with something you don’t entirely understand. “Evil has a way of rising again,” he says, finally, “and I wouldn’t be surprised if the people I killed find a way to come back.”

It makes the hair on the back of your neck stand up. “The people you killed?”

He looks at you. You know what he means. The Emperor, or at the very least, the horrible people who surrounded him. You swallow, trying to regulate your breath. “What—what can we do?”

Luke glances from Din to the baby to you. “Be a Jedi,” he repeats, his voice faraway. “I’ll see you soon.”

You nod, watching him, dazed, walk back to his ship.

“And Nova,” Luke continues, bracing himself on the ladder, “May the Force be with you.”

“And with you,” you whisper, watching as the X-wing disappears into the cloud cover, staring at the trails as they evaporate, as you hold the only tangible proof in the form of his lightsaber that Luke Skywalker was ever here at all.

The trip back to Mandalore is probably as cold as the one here, but you don’t even notice. You have the baby in your lap again, and all of the warmth in the whole galaxy is sitting here with you, green, adorable, and alive. The three of you spend the entirety of the trek cuddled up together, and when you finally land on the planet, you’re exhausted but safe. Your legs hurt from running, your scar aches from the residual cold, but you barely notice them. They’re such small hurts in comparison to all the good nestled safely in your arms.

Grogu, as always, is exhausted from using the Force to ground your ship and choking out the guy trying to do the same to you, and he falls asleep in your arms before you make your way back to the suite that Bo-Katan gifted the two fo you the last time you were here. You lay him down in the tiny bassinet in the adjoined room, his little snores just as quiet and angelic as they were the last time you heard him.

Your heart, still ran over from all the danger you’ve spent the last year fighting off, is full. You walk into the fresher, staring at your reflection. You’re positively disheveled, your clothes dirty and torn, your hair hanging half out of the braid you tied it in multiple planets ago, but that smile on your face is still lighting up even the darkest parts of your eyes. You stare at yourself, running your fingers across your lips, taking in every single inch of yourself. You don’t look like a normal twenty-six-year-old. You certainly don’t look like royalty. But you look like you. Nova, Her Highness Rebel Rouser Pilotess of the Outer Rim. Nova, wife, mother, Rebel. Nova, yourself.

That alone makes the grin stretch even wider. Din walks into the bathroom, staring at your reflection in the mirror, wrapping his big arms around your waist, letting his helmeted face rest on your shoulder blades.

“You are,” he sighs, “so beautiful.”

“I’m a mess,” you insist, giggling.

“Beautiful,” Din repeats, and when you tentatively hook your fingers under the rim of his helmet, he lets you gently pull it off. You stare at every sinch of his handsome, rugged face in the mirror, your eyes roaming over the valleys of his lips, the mountain of his nose, his gorgeous brown eyes that hold the stars.

“You are, too,” you whisper, faintly, and then he’s turning you around, his strong hands on your hips.

“I never finished giving you your birthday present,” Din murmurs, and he starts pulling his worn gloves away from his fingers. You watch as he lets them drop to the floor, breath hitching in your throat. “Do you think you could let me do that, cyar’ika?”

You nod, breathless. When he strips you down, you’re expecting to be perched on the cold metal of the sink as his mouth returns, again and again, between your thighs, but his warm, rough hands hook underneath your thighs and he carries you out of the fresher.

Din lays you down on the bed. He’s still fully clothed side from his helmet, and for what feels like an eternity, you just stare into his eyes, thanking the Maker and all the stars above that you’re the one that gets to know him like this, that he trust you to look at his face, that you broke down on Nevarro all those months ago.

And when Din dives between your thighs again, you know he’s thanking everything in the universe for the same exact things.

His mouth is an omen, a prayer, a miracle. You’ve never been particularly religious, but he makes you want to be. You can feel the way he’s opening you up, letting no part of you go untouched or untasted. You sigh, moaning loudly into the soft flesh of your arm, trying to stifle the animalistic noises he’s evoking. When his tongue finally, finally finds your clit, you can feel what he’s spelling. First it’s mine, then it’s your name, and then it’s I love you. You gasp. You could recognize it anywhere, even in the dark, and still, your pulse is absolutely racing.

“Din,” you start, strangled, “fuck—I’m—I’m gonna—”

He pulls his mouth away from you, an obscene smacking noise filling the rest of the room. “Good,” he enunciates, and then his tongue is back on you.

You’re pretty sure you see heaven. Your fingers knot tightly in his gorgeous dark hair, whimpering as he coaxes another orgasm out of you, then another, then another. Your legs are shaking, and you’re infinitely grateful that he carried you out here instead of trying to eat you on the edge of the sink, because you wouldn’t have been able to stay standing. You swallow, gasping harder and harder as his mouth pulls off your pussy and roves up your stomach, decorating your scar with the sweetest kisses, pawing gently at your tits before his mouth licks love bites into the underside, above your nipples, in the middle of your chest. You think that if he asked, you’d let Din plant hickeys literally anywhere he wanted, to put his claim on you, to prove that he’s yours. When his mouth meet yours again, it’s like you’ve died and come back to life.

You can taste yourself on Din’s lips, salty sweet. He licks into your mouth. “Taste so good,” he croons, mouth dropping to the pulse point behind your ear. You shudder as he teases you with his mouth, two fingers dipping in your slick and then pushing inside of you. You clench and moan around him, and faintly, you hear him moan about how tight you are before the rush of another orgasm rips into you and everything goes starry and skyward.

Finally, you come back to your sense, reeling. “Din,” you try again, but his name comes out in a breathless puff of air. You’re writhing under his touch, every inch of you alive and his. You feel electric.

“I’m gonna fuck you now,” he grunts out, and you don’t even have time to try to bargain for a taste of his cock, to touch him, to put your mouth in places that’ll make him feel as good as you do. For a second, he pulls you up so you can wrap your mouth around him, but the second he thrusts into your throat, he’s gone. “Not gonna last,” he murmurs, fingers tangling in your loose hair, “I have to fuck you now, cyar’ika.”

Your eyes roll back. “If—if you must,” you manage, but your voice is so thick and laden with lust that the joke doesn’t deliver. Din uses the head to rub against you a few times before he goes in, teasing your swollen clit before he pushes everything inside of you.

It’s everything. He’s not gentle, this time, which is exactly what you wanted. You don’t think you could see straight for days if he tried to pound you with ease. You want to be absolutely annihilated, to have the breath taken out of you. Wordlessly, Din does just that. He fucks into you hungrily, without remorse. You’re both moaning. His lips press up into your ear, but you can’t even recognize what he’s saying as he fucks everything out of you. Eventually, his words register-feel so good, my sweet thing, fuck, Nova—and you cry out as you clench down around him for what feels like the hundredth time. Din plants a singular kiss against your lips, moans, and whispers, “that’s it, sweet girl,” and then both of you are sent to the stars at the same time, gasping, moaning, screaming, like you’re colliding stars, like you belong to nothing but each other. It’s everything. It’s huge. It’s that something more you’ve always felt, that cosmic connection, that dual astral projection. For what feels like hours, you lay together, breathing in each other’s air, satisfied and happy.

Both of you end up in the shower, although you can’t remember either one of you asking to move towards the fresher. You let Din drag the soap over your sore shoulders, cleaning between your legs, frothing the suds in your hair. You don’t know when he had the time or the energy to do it, but he got that lavender soap you love, and the scent fills up the place with steam.

You do the same, wordlessly, dragging his soap over his broad shoulders, across his toned stomach, down both of his legs. You kiss Din as he presses his lips against yours, over and over again, and when you leave the shower, you’re both inches from sleep, happy, exhausted.

The bed is so much more comfortable than the one on Kicker. You sink into it, completely naked, shifting as close to Din as you possibly can. It’s dark in here, but you’re close to the window, and you see the foreign shapes of the buildings of Mandalore, and everything filters back in.

“Did you ever believe,” you whisper, not even sure if Din is still awake, “that when we met, we would end up both being Rebels and the leaders of a whole planet?”

“No,” he answers, immediately, his voice muffled against the back of your neck. “Not a chance in hell.”

You grin, into the darkness. “And now?”

“Now,” Din sighs, pulling you closer, “I truly can’t imagine our lives being any other way.”

You nod, in silent agreement. The night beckons you in closer and closer, and you let yourself fall onto the edge of sleep, heart full, eyes closed, exactly where you’re supposed to be. When you drift off to dreamland, you hear Din whisper he loves you, and you replay the words over and over in the back of your mind until they forge a promise stronger than the one living on your ring finger, content, together, on the precipice of something more.

Morning comes quickly, and it comes with Grogu jumping on the bed and waking both of you up with his abnormally loud cooing. You wake first, not even sure how the little guy found his way up on top of a bed that’s easily five times his height, but you pull him into the nest of sheets and blankets you and Din made in your sleep. When he wakes up, it’s slowly, and you touch your fingertips over to his face, tracing lines of love into his skin.

“Good morning, Mand’alor,” you say, and Din’s eyes open slowly.

“Not yet,” he answers, voice flat. You look over at where Bo-Katan must have left your outfits while you were gone on Hoth. His is typical—the Mandalorian beskar he’s been wearing for as long as you’ve known him, but with a neutral blue cloak to replace all that black. Your dress is gorgeous. You didn’t even know if you would have anything new for the ceremony, because all you’re doing is standing there, but you have to admit, Bo-Katan went above and beyond with this one. The color of the dress is shimmering, a dark navy blue that’s almost completely black. The fabric hugs the top half of your shoulders, and as the dress flows down the rest of your body, the blueness lightens into the same color Din’s cloak is made of. It’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen, rivaled only with Yavin’s sunsets and Naator’s pink skies, and when you put it on, you feel like a princess. It’s not practical, but it’s also functional, and as you interrogate the chair full of things Bo-Katan brought you, you find a matching garter, shimmering in the same impossible way the dress does, embroidered with twin silver stars. When you slip it on, the lightsaber Luke’s letting you hang onto fits perfectly, flush against your legs. There’s a small slit trailing up the dress, so hidden by the starry, shimmering fabric that no one would catch it if they weren’t looking for it, and you grin as you put it on, thanking the Maker above for the Mandalorians being so effective in their aesthetic.

“Holy fuck,” you hear behind you, and you turn around. Din’s only in his underclothes, the tiniest bit of his belly peeking out from under his new tunic, and he’s staring at you.

“Bo-Katan,” you say, shyly, taking stock of his shocked face, “does not miss.”

Din walks toward you, taking in every inch of your shimmering dress, mouth slightly ajar. “No,” he murmurs, and then he’s striding towards you, holding your face in his hands, his lips feverish and frenzied against yours. “She certainly does not.”

“Neither do you,” you whisper, dazed, touching your lips, staring at him as he shoulders the cloak. “You look—”

“Strange,” he mutters, checking out his reflection critically.

“Amazing,” you correct, walking closer. The two of you look like royalty—outfitted in all the blue bells and whistles that Mandalore has to offer, standing tall in all that silver regalia—and when Grogu tugs at the bottom of your dress, you lift him into your arms, adjusting his own blue outfit. You don’t look like a rebel and a bounty hunter and their strange baby. You look like a family, a real one, and something else. You look like you belong here.

When Bo-Katan meets you at the door, she looks equally as regal. Her eyes roam over Din’s helmeted face with slight disdain, but she looks at you like she sees stars, and when her gaze flits over to Din again, her expression has molded into something that faintly rings out excitement.

“Are you ready?” she asks, leading the three of you down the staircase at the back of the quarters. You can tell by the shift in architecture that you’re heading straight for the throne room, and your heartbeat is knocking itself dizzy. Everything feels alive and electric, that buzzing of something more loud in your ears. You know this isn’t the ending. You know that by all accounts, that this is truly a beginning—you’re about to be married to the new leader of Mandalore, you have an entire shadowy fascist regime to beat, you know practically nothing about being a Jedi—but everything that started when you crash landed on Nevarro all those years before feels like it’s settling cosmically into place. Your breathing is quick and shallow as you hear your heels click against the empty hall, trying to take everything in, and before you know it, you’re at the door.

Bo-Katan looks at you and Din. “Everyone’s in there,” she says, and her voice is gentler than you’ve ever heard it. “They’re likely not going to be happy with this. But I’m going to go out first, and I’m going to introduce you and…” she looks over at you, and then back to Din, “and then you three will come in.”

Din nods.

“Are you ready?” Bo-Katan asks again, and there’s no greed in her voice. She’s not wanting for him to fail. You watch as she stands up straighter, and you notice the same color cloak flowing out from all of her beskar. You don’t know if you fully like her, yet, but you trust her, and you know that’s far more valuable in a situation like this. She offers you the tiniest of smiles. You return it, tenfold.

Din nods again, and then opens his mouth to speak. His voice is calm through the modulator, calmer than you would have expected. “Yes,” he says, finally, “yes, I’m ready.”

Bo-Katan nods at both of you, catches your eye one last time, and then shoulders herself through the double doors. The cheering and noise of the whole planet filters through the wide doorway, and then they click closed, leaving you and Din and Grogu together with nothing but each other.

“We can still run for it, you know,” you whisper, trying to shake the jitters out of your voice. “Think about it. We could disappear back on Yavin. Or Naator. That tiny little village. Pink skies, beautiful yellow trees.”

Din looks over at you, and you know you’re looking straight into his eyes under the visor. Your heart is beating so fast. “You made a promise to me, cyar’ika,” he says, “that you won’t run.”

You grin back at him. “True. I did say that. But I meant it in the context that I was never going to run from you. I never promised I wouldn’t run with you.”

“That’s quite the loophole.”

“I’m good,” you say, giggling, “and smart. I have like ten thousand contingency plans.”

“Well,” Din says, facing back to stare at the doors, reaching his gloved hand out to meet yours, “you don’t need them here.”

You look at him. “We’re gonna pull it off,” you repeat, trying to make your promise shine just as bright as all the ones he’s given you. “All of it. You are going to be the greatest leader that Mandalore has ever known. Grogu,” you continue, looking down at your adorable, green child nestled safely in your arms, “is going to become a Jedi.”

Din turns to you again. “And you?”

You smile. “Maybe both. I contain multitudes.”

Din laughs, and the noise is so light and so free that it makes every single inch of you melt. You beam up at him. “You certainly do,” he says, quietly, and then, after what seems like a moment of deliberation, he lifts his fingers and pulls his helmet off. He doesn’t look relaxed, but he doesn’t look particularly fearful, either.

“Are you sure?” you ask, breathless, as he brings his helmet all the way off, staring back at the double doors that Bo-Katan disappeared through a minute ago. You can only faintly hear what she’s saying, but you know it’s nearing the time when the three of you—your strange, wonderful little family—have to meet her in there.

He nods. “We’re both done running,” he sighs, his voice thick with resolve, “and I’m done with hiding.”

Your eyes fill with tears. “I love you. Ni kar’tayl su, darasuum.”

“Forever, Nova,” Din whispers back. He turns to face you one last time. You stare into his eyes, that warm, eternal state of brown, and as he moves closer to you, his hands around your waist, you don’t take your eyes off of him. Not even to blink. Not even for a second. You just stare, drinking in every single inch of his gorgeous face, knowing that you know him. It pulses and burns inside you like a shared, glorious star. “This is the beginning, you know.”

“I know,” you repeat, softly, feeling as his hand gently strokes over your perfect hair. There’s a headband as part of your outfit, made out of glittering spikes of beskar, and when Din touches his hand to it, it feels like a crown. “We’re going to change the world. Stop the order. Bring peace and good things, and then when we’re done, we can retire knowing we made all of this better for the rest of the galaxy. And then,” you inhale, staring into his eyes, “we’re going to have a real wedding. Flowers. Grogu presenting our rings. Boba Fett marrying us.”

“Absolutely not,” Din cuts you off, but you can hear the lilt in his voice. “Cara or nothing.”

You grin back. “Deal.”

“And where are we retiring?” There’s a tiny sparkle of humor hidden in his voice.

“We’ll have homes on all our favorite planets,” you decide, “but we can live on the ship for good, if you like.”

“No,” Din says, his voice faraway, his thumb stroking over your cheekbone. “When I make our next home with you, it’s going to be permanent.”

“I’ll hold you to that.”

“Nova—”

“We’re ready,” you assure him, stepping closer, tipping your head back. “I’m ready. Are you?”

After a moment, Din nods. The way he’s holding you—protective, possessive, wholly yours—it makes everything fade out. For a moment, a dazzling, fleeting moment, everything else fades out. You see the two of you on Nevarro the first time, the way his hands felt when he was patching your wounds, all the promises you both made and broke back on Dantooine, the vows to each other on Naator, the proposal on Yavin, every single time you’ve saved each other, which is now an even tally, standing together at the Rebel base, standing together through the darkness, through the light, still standing together here. You love him. With all of your heart, you love him, and you know it’ll last even longer than forever. There’s war coming, but for now, you’re with your husband and your baby, about to step into the next phase of saving the world. And after everything, after all of that, you know the perfect thing to say before moving through those gilded double doors.

“I’m ready,” Din repeats, more fortified. You nod, and then beam at him and the baby, pushing your shoulders back. “This is a lot,” he says, his voice still tinged slightly with anxiety, “are you sure?”

And as Bo-Katan opens the double doors, you lean into your embrace, everything rushing back to the present, the entire galaxy evaporating and colliding at once. You hear the crowd in the throne room. You don’t know what’s coming next. But, you think, as you prepare to move forward, as long as you’re doing it with Din and Grogu, you’ll be okay.

So, regardless of the open door waiting for the rest of your lives in front of you, you slide your hand down Din’s face, lean into his kiss, and whisper that you forgive him.

I HOPE YOU ALL LOVED IT!!!! writing this has been the adventure of a lifetime. it's given me peace, solace, happiness, giddiness, and, most importantly, all of you. thank you all endlessly for coming along on this journey with me. i love each and every one of you with all of my heart. thank you for supporting me and my story, for leaving incredible comments and analysis, for being my friends, and for jumping off this crazy cliff with me. SM turned into the story i was always meaning to write when introduced Nova as her whole character, and your love for her has filled my soul up with so much joy. thank you, endlessly, for coming along this ride with me. i know this isn't a "real" ending, and that not every single little plotline was tied up in a neat little bow, but i hope you'll forgive me because i have PLANS for the sequel. give me a month or so to get writing and planning, and the next installment in the SM series will be up as soon as possible!!!! as always, i'll give ya all the updates on tumblr (amiedala) and tiktok (padmeamydala) when writing starts!

you are all so important to me. thank you for reading, thank you for loving my words, and thank you for seeing this through with me.

onward and upward; the next adventure awaits!!!

all my love always,

amelie

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bookishofalder · 4 years ago

Text

Night Changes [Nine]

Summary: Will Poe and the reader be reunited?

Warnings: Angst, character deaths, language, smut. TW-pregnancy, birth, infant, breastfeeding. WC—+10k

A/N-At the end.

“Rey,” At the sound of her name, Rey paused and glanced around to see Leia standing next to the Falcon, waiting. Meeting her kind eyes, she hoped Leia wasn’t going to try and convince her not to go again; she’d already told the wise General that she had to find the Wayfinder, that she needed to complete Luke’s mission and get to Exegol. Finn, Poe, Chewbacca and C3PO were already on board, waiting for her to join them; it was time to leave.

“Leia?” She stepped toward her mentor, who looked around cautiously before lowering her voice to speak to Rey.

“I need to give you something.”

Rey frowned, confused, glancing down to Leia’s empty, “What do you mean?”

Leia sighed, her eyes tired. Rey understood—she felt exhausted too. “I can’t explain it. And you must keep it to yourself until the moment is right—trust me, you’ll know when that is—if you do end up needing to,” Leia took hold of Rey’s hands, squeezing, “I’ll show you, but you must keep it tucked away no matter what.”

Seeing the seriousness in Leia’’s eyes, Rey swallowed and nodded, “Of course. I promise.” She returned the pressure to the General’s hands and watched as she reached up and pressed her fingers gently to Rey’s temple.

In a brief flash, Rey saw enough to understand.

As he was pushed roughly through the doors to an open hangar with Finn and Chewie, Poe couldn’t help but reflect on his life over the past year and a half. He’d had a lot of close calls, even been captured, but this was the first time he felt like he was going to die, as General Hux and a couple of Storm Troopers stood behind them, ready to execute Poe and his friends. He hoped Rey was able to escape, at least.

And Leia could get the news of his death to you. She would make sure you were taken care of for the rest of your life. He had no regrets, no, not with you on some planet far away from all of this and free to raise the baby. He’d done everything he could, fought as hard as possible, but that didn’t mean he was guaranteed to live.

Poe tried to picture what the baby might look like, whether they got your smile, his hair. Pain shot through his broken heart that his child would grow with only pictures of him, no memories. He glanced up at Finn, eager to distract himself; he could hear Hux speaking to the Troopers and ignored them.

“What were you going to tell Rey before?”

Finn hesitated, appearing uncomfortable, “You still on that?”

“Oh,” Poe frowned at him incredulously, “Is this a bad time?” He just wanted to hear Finn admit aloud he had feelings for Rey. He could sense it between them, especially recently, and thought that they made a good pair. In another life he could see himself with them, you at his side, enjoying a late-night dinner, laughing around a table while the kids pretended to be asleep in their bedrooms.

Nodding, Finn gave Poe a wary look, “It sort of is?” Poe scoffed, shaking his head.

“So I tell you my deepest secrets but right before we’re about to die you’re locking down on yours?” Poe hadn’t just told Finn about you; after he’d confessed your existence, he hadn’t been able to stop sharing with his friend, who listened attentively as Poe described his life with you, how he’d love you since he was ten years old.

Finn blanched, and after a pause opened his mouth to respond, only shots went off behind them and they flinched. Poe expected to feel pain, or perhaps nothing if the shot was well placed, only they heard thuds behind them and instead glanced around to find Hux holding a blaster, eyes on the dead Troopers momentarily before he looked up at them.

“I’m the spy.” He claimed, a dark smirk on his twisted face, and Poe felt a rush of confused relief—he and Finn exchanged looks as Chewie groaned.

“What?” He exclaimed at the same moment Finn yelled, “You?” In disbelief.

Hux ignored them, “We don’t have much time, we have to go.” He gestured for them to follow and after a brief pause, they hastened to climb to their feet.

Poe hurried forward and grabbed a few of the fallen Troopers blasters, passing them to Finn and Chewie before taking one for himself. His blood was rushing, the feeling of being alive still—of getting lucky, again—made him feel powerful like you were out there somewhere sending him the strength and good fortune that he needed at every turn.

As they ran behind Hux, Finn touched Poe’s arm. “That was too close—made me realize, do you have a way of her knowing if something happens to you?”

Poe nodded, “Leia will tell her.”

But he sincerely hoped that would never happen, that you wouldn’t be standing in the doorway of some home he’d never know and hear the words that he had died, that he was never coming for you. The idea of you being in that kind of pain was something he couldn’t fully fathom, and it only renewed his determination to get to the Wayfinder and finish this fight once and for all.

11 Months Ago

“Doesn’t matter how many galaxies separate us, I will always be with you, and you with me. I promise.”

Memories of your life with Poe had a way of burrowing into the forefront of your mind when you least expect them; when you let your guard down. The emotional goodbye all those years before, back on Yavin-4 when you were just kids—Poe leaving with Charlie to join the Resistance...it was a lifetime ago. And as much as you believed his words both then and now, it didn’t make the pain any easier to endure as you lay here without him, the Healer and Kes having left you alone with the newborn baby cradled in your arms.

You were surprised when the Healer had passed you the baby—after almost nine hours of labour—to see the tuft of dark curls on their head; Kes had remarked that Poe had come into the world with as much hair, and you’d laughed through your mixed tears of sorrow and joy and love. So they took after their dad—what a beautiful, heartbreaking thought.

Stars, you hoped Poe would meet them before long--before they grew too much. Just seeing the tiny creature, skin-to-skin with you like the Healer recommended, both made your heart feel complete while simultaneously tearing it apart. He should have been here to hold your hand, to cut the cord and press soft kisses to both of your heads and cry tears of joy from it all.

It wasn’t fair. Up until this moment you’d been able to lock back to anger and the bitter feelings over having let Poe send you away because it had been the right choice no matter what way you looked at it. But now, as you lay exhausted and bursting with love for the baby you made with your soulmate, you let some of that anger free through wretched sobs because it wasn’t fair that he had to miss this, that for all you knew he could be...

You stopped yourself from thinking of the worst-case scenario. It wasn’t helpful to imagine what he was doing now, where he was, if he was okay. And you’d promised him you would keep him alive in your mind unless you knew for certain that he wasn’t.

A small whine met your ears and you glanced down at the baby, smiling at their pinched expression as they struggled to adapt to their new surroundings. “It’s okay, little bug. Mama is here, shhh...” You cooed softly, running a lone finger over their hair in a gentle motion. You watched their eyes flutter beneath the lids, enjoying the feel of your touch, and then froze when they opened their eyes for the first time to look up at you blearily.

Stars, they had Poe’s eyes.

Now - 35 ABY - Battle of Exegol

When Temmin died, Poe truly began to lose all hope.

Before watching another friend’s x-wing get shot down, he’d managed to scrape the bottom of the barrel for that hope, for any remaining belief that they could win this fucking fight. That everything he’d ever sacrificed was worth it because now they had arrived and it was time to put an end to it all—but then he was screaming for Snap to watch his six, heard the anguished cry through the comm when he was hit, the searing memory of losing Charlie so many years before in the same way making his stomach churn, and he just felt so...

So fucking hopeless.

Leia was gone. The Resistance was down to pathetic numbers, and he had finally lost all hope.

Shit, if he was being honest with himself he’d been running through these last few days with urgency and adrenaline that prevented him from overthinking the odds, a blissful denial that anything other than winning could occur. When he’d told the remaining fighters of the Resistance that this was their final stand, that help would come, he had meant it as much as he’d hoped it was true.

“Help will come if they know there is hope,” Poe had stared around at his friends, at their doubting expressions, “They will. We have friends out there. The First Order wins by making us think we’re alone. We’re not alone—good people will fight if we lead them.”

In all of the time that had passed between when he’d said goodbye to you to this moment, he’d never once regretted sending you far away from the fight. Even here, with Rebel, after Rebel dying and a fleet of Destroyer’s that would wipe out entire planets unless they bent to the will of the First Order, he felt a sense of peace knowing that you were safely tucked away well beyond the reaches of their tyranny. His child would grow up with a mother who could share stories of Poe’s life, his love for you, for them.

It still stung, though, knowing he would never see you again. That he would die fighting and his last thoughts would be of you, of his little family, and you would have no idea. He hoped when you did find out the Resistance was done, the fight was lost, that you didn’t take it too hard—didn’t blame yourself in any way. He wanted you to be mad at him, not at yourself, not after everything you’d done for him, everything you had sacrificed.

He almost could have laughed, bleak as the outlook now was it shouldn’t have hurt as much as it did that no aid had arrived, that Lando and Chewie flew to the inner core worlds for nothing—clearly, no one was coming. Just like the Battle of Crait, they were alone; only now Leia was gone and Poe was the General, he was the one everyone was screaming for orders from through the comms, he was the one that had to say it aloud.

“My friends,” His voice was scratchy, choked up, as his mind played flashes of his life—of you, of losing Charlie, marrying you, losing Leia. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry—”

He would die taking down as many enemies as he could. He would tell the rest of them to either do the same or flee—he wouldn’t blame them if they fled. Poe could almost imagine himself doing it, but the idea of finding you somewhere out there and saying he’d left at the final hour made bile heave in his stomach. He would never abandon the fight, not when you had wanted to stay as much as you had, but left for the baby.

As he struggled to pull in a breath to speak, he recalled the last time he saw you.

It was late, the base quiet and most of the Rebels sleeping, all except for Poe and you—it was time to say goodbye, under the cover of darkness. He wasn’t allowed to follow you into the hangar because he couldn’t know even the most minute details of how you got off-planet. Still, he would walk you as far as he could, and savour every final second together.

“I changed my mind, I’m not leaving you.” You whispered, halting in the hallway and turning to face Poe. One hand ran absentmindedly over your swollen stomach, the other reached up to grip his forearm. Your lower lip trembled, and he felt every word you wanted to say to convince him you should stay.

Poe took a shuddering breath, “Sweet girl, you aren’t leaving me—stop thinking about it like that. You’re saving our baby, keeping them safe, remember?” He tried to keep the desperate plea minimal in his voice because it had been like this for the last few days. One moment you were reluctantly prepared to leave, the next you were begging to stay. He didn’t know how much more of this torture he could stand before he broke down and let you stay.

Your pretty eyes were bloodshot and red-rimmed, just like his. You’d each cried more than enough to last a lifetime, and although heat pricked the corners of his eyes now he knew no more tears could come until you were out of sight. He would cry in his bed alone tonight, and probably every night until he saw you again, but right now he needed to show strength.

You stepped into his arms and Poe hugged you close, your body angling your stomach so that it wasn’t pressed between you both. “I don’t...Poe, I don’t think I’m strong enough to do this.”

Poe stared at you in disbelief, “Not strong enough? Are you kidding me?” He brought his hands to cup your cheeks gently, “You are the strongest person I know. What you are about to do for us, for our baby, is the most incredible sacrifice anyone could make. Everything you are doing and have done in your life only proves how amazing and strong you are—no matter what happens, please never forget that, okay?”

You whimpered sadly, nodding your head, and Poe shakily pressed his lips to yours, capturing you for one last kiss. It was soft and for one brief moment, he let himself imagine it was a greeting, though in truth it only made his heart fracture further rather than make him feel any better.

“Whatever happens, Poe, we’ll be okay...so don’t worry about us, focus on yourself,” You reached up and pushed your hands into his curls, savouring them one final time. “Promise me you’ll never stop fighting, flyboy.”

Poe smiled sadly down at you, his eyes drinking in every detail of your beautiful face, “Never, sweetheart, I promise I’ll never stop fighting. And this isn’t goodbye,” He pressed one hand gently against your belly, “It’s just a...see you soon. Once I’m finished blowing shit up in my x-wing.”

You laughed, tears streaming down your face and then pulled Poe against you again, his hand stuck between your bodies as you crushed him in a strong embrace. “I love you, Poe.”

“Oh, sweet girl, I love you too.”

35 ABY - Sorgan

You missed flying, though the place Leia had sent Kes and you to barely had any air traffic, the planet much too out of the way. Still, it had a sky that night or day you’d find yourself gazing into, wishing you could feel that weightlessness that came with blasting off from base, that you would look to your left and see Poe in his ship, the stars stretching beyond.

Poe. Stars, you missed him more and more every day. You had trouble believing it had been over a year, that the baby was now eleven months old and starting to try and walk and they’d never met their father. Though each time this knowledge became too heavy, you reminded yourself of the peaceful life you were living on Sorgan and how that had been the whole point of you leaving the fight—for the baby, for safety.

Sorgan was so far removed that no news reached the planet from the middle and core rims, something you’re sure Leia knew when she decided to send you here. You sometimes felt suffocated, not knowing a single thing about what was happening out there, but then you knew if you did know, it might make it harder to stay. And you couldn’t leave, you knew that for certain the moment you’d laid eyes on your newborn when the Healer had set the baby in your arms, face pinched as shrieks filled the air until they’d calmed, skin to skin with you.

You had gazed at the beautiful baby and you knew that you could never bear to part from them, no matter what you did or didn’t know about the war. Nonetheless, it was perhaps infinitesimally easier to be ignorant and allow yourself to imagine that it was all going fine.

You were living in a small but cozy yurt on the edge of a fishing village. The simple space comprised of the main room that hosted the barebones kitchen with a big table to eat at and a couple of comfortable sitting chairs, and had two rooms, one on either side, for sleeping quarters. The baby was in a crib at the end of your bed, where you were laying now. Very much awake even as they slept soundly.

Or so you thought until you were jerking from your thoughts at their sudden cries. You waited for a minute, the soft cries more whimpers than anything, and hoped the baby would soothe themselves back to sleep. They hiccuped, however, and started to cry again from the jolt. You sighed before sliding out from under the covers and padding softly to their crib.

“Your eyes aren’t even open,” You accused, grinning at the baby with the scrunched face, all the drama of their dad and only eleven months. Carefully lifting them, you tucked the baby against your chest and began to stroll slow circles around the bedroom, swaying as you went. “You know, when your dad finally comes and meets you he’s taking night duty over. I don’t care how many wars he wins.”

The little coo you got in response was enough to tell you Bug was on your side.

Though every day apart from Poe was painful, you did savour the good moments with the little piece of your heart that remained, beating for the baby you held now. And on this peaceful, sleepy planet most days had plenty of good—even if you were sad. Kes was an incredibly positive man, and like his son knew how to read you well, often stepping in to whisk the baby away whenever he sensed your sorrow was too hard to contain. You tried to spend all of the energy you had smiling for Bug because that was the only thing you could really do.

The guilt was heavy. You knew Poe would be devastated if he knew just how much you carried, living so comfortably—if a little rustic—on Sorgan all while he spent every day fighting to stay alive. But it was easier to focus on that guilt, to hate yourself than it was to be afraid of losing him—never seeing him again. Stars, the guilt was practically a salve in comparison to that.

Some days though, it was harder to keep the frame of mind that staying was the only option. As the baby grew, the guilt began to feed a steady flow of ‘what if’s’ into your mind. It was getting harder to ignore the sense of it. When Bug started to mix food into their diet, weaning partially from your breastmilk, you told yourself you could wean them completely, earlier than you planned but then you could hire a ship to take you back to D’Qar...

Only, you didn’t even know if D’Qar was still safe anymore.

It was a circular battle you couldn’t win no matter the choice you made, though you always chose the baby, chose to stay because you promised Poe you would. He’d told you that you were making the greatest sacrifice, and he had been right—he knew he could distract himself with the fight, and that you would only be able to distract yourself so much with raising the baby. He understood you would spend every day apart wishing you could rejoin him.

A soft snore pulled you from your thoughts and you glanced down at the baby to find them fast asleep again. You smiled fondly, that little chunk of your heart giving a happy beat as you settled them back into their crib and ran your fingers gently over their soft cheek.

“Goodnight, Charlie, my sweet girl.” You whispered heart clenching at the sight of her chubby cheeks relaxed in sleep.

Deciding a cool drink was needed, you slipped from the quiet of your room and into the main extension of the yurt you shared with Kes. A single lamp lit the small space dimly, and you helped yourself to a glass of water and took a seat at the table. You weren’t sure how long you were sitting there before Kes appeared and sat down across from you with a knowing smile on his face.

He sat silently for a few minutes as you sipped at your drink, speaking only once you’d finished. “Can’t sleep again?”

You sighed, running your hands through your hair, exhaustion setting deep in your bones.

“I keep having the same dream, Kes. Poe and Bug, back home on Yavin-4. Only, the beach is in colour but they aren’t.” You choked up, glancing toward your room, where you could see the crib through the doorway.

Kes followed your gaze, “Bug will meet him someday. I know it. You need to believe that too, kiddo, and you really need to get some sleep.” He patted your hand gently before standing and you watched him make his way to his room, pulling the curtain across his doorway as he did.

Taking a deep breath, you pressed your palms into your closed eyes, willing your mind to settle so that you could go to bed and get some rest. You just don’t think you could stand to have the dream again—always waking up and wondering, would you ever really get to see Poe again? Would he ever get to meet his little girl?

When you climbed back beneath the cool sheets of your bed, you fell into light sleep, your dreams the same as ever—Poe playing with Charlie on the beach back home on Yavin-4 while you sat on a blanket on the sand watching, laughing as they splashed each other. Your family, together again.

35 ABY - Battle of Exegol

As wretched as it was to think of never seeing you again, this wasn’t the first time he thought he was going to die. At least here, in his x-wing, he could take out as many enemies as he could before going out in a blaze—just like...like Charlie.

“I thought we had a shot. There’s too many of them.” He finished speaking to the remaining fighters in resignation, his eyes heavy—he was tired, so tired. Enough so that when a new, familiar voice came clear over the comms, he sat up straighter before his mind even registered what they were saying.

“Oh, but there’s more of us, Poe. There’s more of us.”

Poe spun his ship around, his heart frozen in his chest, flew up over the wreckage of the one First Order ship they’d so far managed to take out—and there it was.

Lando and Chewie were back; he could see the Falcon, and behind them were thousands and thousands of ships. And still, more coming as he looked, pulling out of light speed to fall in with the Falcon. Poe could hardly believe his eyes, but right before him, he couldn’t doubt for a moment that his friends had come back and they...

They had brought hope.

You sat with your toes in the water, the sun shining on your back warm and comforting. Charlie splashed around happily, her water suit covering her arms and legs, joining her cute straw hat in protecting her from too much sunlight. She kept looking from the water around her chubby legs to the flowing stream behind her-as if dissatisfied with the ankle-deep water you had set her in.

“You can go in the river in a few years,” You cocked a brow at her as she gave you a pouty look. “You’re very cute, but mama says no.”

With a resigned sigh that seemed far too mature for her, she went back to splashing the water and you slid your toes towards her, wriggling them so that she tried to catch hold. When she managed to grab your big toe, you laughed and she giggled brightly, her gleeful peals filling the quiet around you.

It was a beautiful day on Sorgan. They all were, really, even the rainy days, the ones that kept you inside the yurt listening to the rain while Kes tried to teach Charlie how to crawl and you laughed as you watched them. But the sunny days were the best, the ones you could fill with endless activity to distract yourself as much as to tire out the baby. Because when your mind settled, it tended to stray off into dark thoughts.

Maybe Poe was gone.

Maybe he would never come to find you here, your little family would be memories of Poe as you raised his little girl with Kes instead. The weight of that responsibility, of ensuring she had a happy life all while missing a whole section of your heart for the rest of your own was heavy so you tried not to overthink it.

You channelled that energy into Charlie, focused on her and you think you were doing a good job of keeping her safe and content. You showed Charlie pictures of Poe every day, wanting to ensure she knew his face even if she would never get to see it in person. She’d been looking at him since she was just a little bean, and you repeated his name, ‘dada’, every time as well. She wasn’t speaking yet, but it couldn’t hurt to keep the association in her mind when she was ready to start talking.

Charlie stopped splashing and glanced up at you with wide eyes, her expression familiar. “Hungry, Bug?” You reached out for her and lifted her from the water, carefully standing and wading to the grassy spot you’d set your picnic up.

You dried her off first, then let her crawl on the blanket while you dry your feet before following her to sit. She beelined for you as you untied your tunic, lowering one side and easing your breast out, grateful your nanny droid had provided you with a soothing balm for your aching nipples. Breastfeeding was your favourite way to bond with her, but Stars, it came at a cost.

You settled Charlie against you and watched as she closed her eyes, suckling softly. You adjusted the tunic to protect her from the sun and fell into a quiet state as she fed. It was sometime later that the sound of a large ship captured your attention, breaking you from your meditation.

Charlie was asleep against you, her face still pressed to your breast, and didn’t stir as the ship, far in the distance, flew past. You wondered briefly, a jolt of electricity coursing through you wondering if it was Poe come to find you both. But when the ship flew only further away, you pushed the idea from your mind. It was probably a shipment from the core worlds going to the markets. You made a mental note to plan a trip there for the next day—if there were fresh supplies, you might find a treat or two. Get something nice for Kes, perhaps.

Feeling exhaustion hit, you napped with Charlie there on the river's edge. You had nothing to fear on Sorgan, and in fact, many of the neighbours in your village were around, not too close but enough so that if needed they could come and wake you. You kept Charlie protected from the sun but let it shine on you, the brightness no match for the gentle lull of sleep, the soft trickle of the river.

When you woke an hour later, you felt more rested than you had in some time, pausing as you sat up to stretch the kinks from your body. Charlie was wriggling and you knew she probably needed to be changed. “Time to go home?” You asked her with a grin, and she made a sour little face in response that made you laugh. You loved how expressive she was, how even though she wasn’t talking yet she managed to let you know how she felt.

With practiced movements, you packed up the little picnic, hoisted your bag over one shoulder before lifting her to sit against your hip, and made the short walk home. Kes was sitting outside the yurt when you arrived, reading, though he set the book down at the sound of your footsteps and grinned widely when Charlie cooed for him.

“Did you have a nice time, ladies?”

You smiled, “She sure loves the water, I should start taking her in the river, see how she likes floating,” Kes took her from you carefully—Charlie made a face and you both laughed, “Sorry, Kes, I think she needs to be changed.”

“No worries, you relax for a bit and I’ll deal with diaper duty.”

Nodding gratefully, you set your bag down on the chair Kes had vacated and turned to gaze out at the grassy lawn. It was a simple home, certainly not where you would have planned to raise a baby, but it was peaceful. You start to think about the next steps, how long you would stay on Sorgan before leaving. You would go ahead first, find out if it was safe, and then you wanted to return to Yavin-4. Not for a few years, although you’d like to leave before Charlie got too old and she was too attached to this place.

You stepped away from the front of the yurt to stare out over the fields. First towards the villagers as they came in from working for the day in the waters, ready to put their feet up before making dinner, and then you turned toward the river and watched the water for a while, your arms crossed, listening distantly to Charlie and Kes making each other laugh inside.

When a voice broke through your thoughts a short while later, you started in surprise before spinning, recognition of the honey-warm tone slamming into you.

“You dreaming about me, sweet girl?”

“Rey, I don’t know how I’ll ever be able to thank you—“

Rey cut Poe off, gripping his arm with a soft smile, “It was Leia, Poe. She found me before we left Ajan Kloss, she put the coordinates in my head, just in case she didn’t make it.”

Poe hugged her quickly, “Still, without you, I don’t know how long it would have taken me to find her here.” He hurried to the ramp, hitting the button to lower it with excitement mounting within him by the second.

“What do you want us to do?” Finn was standing next to Poe as he waited for the ramp to lower onto the grass.

Poe glanced up at his friend, “I have to go alone, can you wait for me here? I’ll come for you—or send for you—if I find them.” He adjusted his jacket as he spoke, nerves slicing his stomach to pieces. He hadn’t felt this close to you in almost a year and a half.

Finn nodded, a small smile on his lips, “We’ll wait. She has to be here, Poe, you’ll find her.” He clapped Poe on the shoulder encouragingly and he swallowed, unable to form a response so he just returned a half-smile and then clambered down the ramp.

Sorgan was a quiet, sleepy planet full of green. If you were here, the idea that you spent all this time in such a place was comforting to Poe—you would have been able to enjoy the land, be outside, not cooped up somewhere.

He was in a small village, and the market that lined the street was bustling with after-work crowds that were in the tens, the people all smiling at one another in a way that revealed how kind of a place it was. He wandered for a few minutes until he spotted a stand that carried medical supplies and approached the vendor, a friendly-looking older woman who grinned at him.

“Hello, stranger. How can I help you?”

Poe held up the photo he had of you, one he’d taken not long after finding out you were pregnant, your hand on your small belly and a big smile on your face. “Have you seen this woman, ma’am?”

“That’s Mrs. Carstairs,” She responded with a small nod. Poe felt his insides inflate, his excitement now ready to burst forth in a shout of glee that he had to bite back. He took a steadying breath, realizing that you had used your mother’s maiden name as your cover.

He grinned, “Yes, (y/n)—“

The woman cut him off, her eyes widening, “Oh now, you must be the husband. Now that I look at you, the baby has your eyes.”

Poe’s stomach turned over at this information. The baby had his eyes? “That’s me, do you know where I can find her, please?” He made to pull out some credits to pass over to the woman for her trouble, only she reached over to take his hand gently and shook her head, smiling.

“No need for that, dear,” She jerked her head in the direction of a nearby road that split off from the village, “Just follow that, about twenty minutes you’ll come across a fishing village. She lives right off that road on the outskirts of the village.”

Saying his thanks quickly, Poe ran faster than he had in his life in the direction she had indicated.

When he finally saw the little yurt along the main road, he breathed a sigh of relief. The sun was lowering in the sky and casting a golden glow over the ponds, fields and the nearby river. It was beautiful, and as he passed the fishing village he smiled at the villagers, who gave him curious looks before returning friendly smiles. He slowed to catch his breath, his eyes moving back to the yurt, now much closer. And then his gaze snapped to a figure standing not far from the door, gazing out in the direction of the river.

It was you.

His heart about ripped out of his chest at the sight of you alive and well. The closer he got he could see how you’d barely changed—your skin had seen more sunlight, your hair was longer, and he could see the soft curves of your figure that motherhood had brought on. He watched you for a moment, standing a few feet back, and he could hear his dad inside the yurt making a baby laugh.

Making his baby laugh.

“You dreaming about me, sweet girl?”

You spun around so fast you were a blur, though Poe didn’t miss the way your hand twitched toward the blaster at your hip before your eyes landed on him. Seeing this only made him grin more broadly, but nerves for the reunion kept him rooted to the spot. What if you were angry with him? The thought hadn’t occurred to him before this, but perhaps you-

“POE!” You cried out, and then you were running forward and jumping into his arms and it was everything he’d dreamed of and more. He caught you and held you close as you both fell to your knees in the grass, and Poe let himself get lost in the moment, sobs pulling from deep within.

He hugged you as tight as he could and then started to pepper your face with kisses, “Oh my sweet girl, I missed you. Stars above, I missed you,” He murmured, his eyes closing as your fingers sunk into his curls and tugged him, your lips crashing to his in a desperate kiss that felt exactly like coming home.

“I was so afraid you wouldn’t be able to find us,” You whimpered after pulling back, your body still pressed against his, “I can’t believe you’re finally here...”

Poe shook his head, “Leia had a backup plan all along. Stars, you are so beautiful,” He swept his fingers over your cheeks, getting a good look at you now and seeing how well cared for you looked; Sorgan had been good to you. “I’m here now. It’s over, we’re safe now.”

You released your hold on his head to run your hands over your face, wiping at your tears, “Poe, the baby’s just inside, I—”

Poe and you both turned your heads at the same time at the sound of Kes coming out the door, his excited shout of glee making you both grin wider. He was holding the baby in his arms, and they looked around at the sound of your laugh, eyes just like Poe’s wide and curious—what a beautiful sight.

For a beat, the baby just stared at him, and then as Kes moved closer, a smile—a little smirk just like yours—appeared.

“Dada!”

Kes froze and glanced down at the baby in surprise, and Poe heard you gasp, one of your hands landing on his arm and squeezing excitedly. “That’s right Charlie, sweet girl, this is your Dada!”

Poe couldn’t stop staring at the baby, who hadn’t looked away from him either even as you spoke to her. She made grabby hands then, reaching for him and he tentatively raised his hands. His dad closed the gap between them and lowered the baby and he took hold of her cautiously, words caught in his throat and his heart beating fast.

She was a solid thing, sturdy in his arms and cooing happily as she gazed up in wonder at Poe. She was stunning, her eyes honey-brown and lined with thick, long lashes just like yours. Her skin was soft, and she was chunky, her baby rolls making him smile wider. After a minute, she spoke again, “Dada!” She raised her little fists towards his scruffy jaw before glancing at you.

Poe followed her gaze, “How does she know me?” He breathed, his heart in his throat.

Your watery smile only grew, “Showed her your picture every day. Wanted her to know her daddy, even if he...he couldn’t be with us,” You shuffled closer, one arm securing itself around Charlie and grasping Kes’ arm. “That was her first word, Poe. She said it just for you.”

Tears stinging at his eyes, Poe sat huddled with his family, clutching the baby closer with one arm, the other around your shoulders. His dad had thrown his arms around both you and Poe and was lamenting about how good it was to see him while Charlie cooed happily in his arms.

The moment was better than he’d ever dreamed.

Poe couldn’t put Charlie down. He carried her around for the rest of the evening, following you into the comfortable yurt you had called home all this time, one hand always on you, keeping you close.

Dad was making dinner and Poe enjoyed the banter you had, the routine of living together clearly having established itself long ago. He felt a jolt of gratitude for his dad dropping everything on Yavin-4 to take care of you and Charlie all this time.

He ate with one hand, relinquishing his hold on you but tugging you into his side before eating, his eyes constantly drinking in every expression on the baby’s face. He hadn’t realized how in love he would be so instantly, and certainly had not expected Charlie to adore him just as much—he’d thought the baby would be shy around him, maybe cry when he held them. But you had ensured she knew his face, his name—just another thing you did for him.

Poe was never going to be able to thank you enough for everything you had done.

“Poe?” Your soft voice broke into his thoughts and he looked around at you. You gave him a tentative sort of look, “Where is BB8?”

His shoulders relaxed automatically, “Oh he’s on the ship I came here in...with my friends,” He grinned and you copied him, your eyes curious, “I’ll go get them tomorrow and you can meet...I have so much to tell you, sweetheart.”

Your expression softened, “We have all the time in the world now.” You reached up and stroked his jaw, the motion so familiar his eyes automatically closed and emotion swelled in his chest. Before he could reply, he felt a second, much smaller hand land on his jaw and begin to copy the movement.

He smiled, looking through his lashes to see Charlie watching you intently as she imitated you, “Clever baby,” He murmured, and Charlie lit up at the sound of his voice. He turned his head and kissed her little hand affectionately.

“She gets her brains from me,” Kes piped up, tossing a wink at you before collecting everyone’s plates. He set them in the large stone sink before glancing at his watch. “You want to put her down for the night in my room?”

As you nodded, your eyes falling from Kes to Charlie, Poe felt a flush begin to creep up his neck at the idea of being alone with you again after so much time. He wanted to hold you close with nothing separating your bodies and curl into your healing warmth. Your hand reached for his, pulling him from his thoughts, and you tipped your head toward the baby in his arms, whose eyes were blinking slowly as exhaustion set in.

“Time for bed, little Bug,” You murmured, leading Poe towards your room. The curtain across the doorway sat open, fluttering slightly in the cool evening air, and the room was dark, illuminated only by the moonlight outside and some of the filtering light from the lamps in the main room of the yurt.

Poe carried Charlie to her crib, pressing his lips gently to her forehead, “Goodnight, Charlie, I love you.” He whispered, smiling to himself when she replied with a sleepy little coo. You took her from Poe then and took a moment to show him how to put the baby down for the night.

His heart was beating wildly in his chest as he watched you soothe Charlie, your fingers brushing delicately over her cheeks until her fluttering lashes settled and a small snore confirmed she was asleep. Poe hadn’t felt so much love in such a long time, he was half convinced he wouldn’t survive all of it thrumming through him now. And Stars, he was fucking proud of you, of how good of a mother you were; you’d done an amazing job raising Charlie so far, and he briefly worried about how he would ever be able to compare to you; if he could be as good of a parent as you were.

Once you had Charlie tucked in, you pushed the crib silently into Kes’ room, then wandered over to an armchair and picked up a blanket. When you turned to look up at Poe, his breath caught at the expression on your face. “Come with me, flyboy.”

Gulping, Poe followed you outside and across the grassy lawn in silence. You led him straight to a secluded spot along the riverbank, the flow of the water the only sound he could hear aside from his heartbeat. He wasn’t exactly sure why, but he suddenly felt nervous, alone with you for the first time in over a year—he’d faced down death countless times since, and yet it was this moment that was giving him pause.

He watched as you carefully spread the blanket out on the cool grass, then slipped off your shoes before stepping towards Poe with a soft smile. “Come here,” You whispered, and he closed the gap between you both eagerly. Kicking off his shoes before pulling you against him in a crushing hug, nuzzling his face into your neck, inhaling your familiar scent deeply.

He couldn’t have said who started to cry first, just that the moment he had you tight in his arms, you were both taking shuddering breaths. He let himself sob in a mixture of joy and sadness for everything, one hand cradling your head against his chest as you sniffled. “Sweet girl,” Poe drew back to look down at you after a few minutes, “Maker, I missed you. Every day was...shit, just complete shit without you.” He admitted, eyes closing automatically when you reached up to brush the tears from his face.

“I missed you too, but you’re here now, Poe. You’re here and you’re safe,” You whispered, leaning up on your tiptoes and pressing a gentle kiss to the end of his nose, “You’re safe, baby.”

He kissed you then; harsher than he’d intended, but you met him with equal intensity, your hands sliding into his hair to draw him closer, teeth clashing. The need then, to be with you, became overwhelming—he pushed your pants down frantically, then undid the tie of your wrap tunic and slid it off your shoulders, grunting when he realized you wore no chest band beneath.

You’d started undressing him, but when your hand passed over his length he brushed his fingers against your pebbled nipples in response and you hissed, body jerking away slightly. Poe’s eyes snapped open and he quickly pulled back from kissing you, “Sweetheart, did I hurt you?”

You tugged at his shirt, smiling softly, and he removed it before glancing down your body, his eyes drinking in every glorious curve, the fullness to your breasts. “Breastfeeding is hard on these,” You replied, gesturing toward your somewhat swollen nipples, “You didn’t hurt me, just need to be careful.”

Poe nodded his understanding, surveying your postpartum body with a new wild hunger he’d never before experienced. You were beautiful, always, but something about seeing your shape with its new fullness, your milk-filled breasts and soft stomach—it made him feral. With a groan, he quickly helped you to lay down on the blanket, careful to avoid your chest as he peppered kisses down your warm body, relishing in every square inch of you. “My beautiful love,” He spread your legs apart, his hand trailing down the slit of your wet heat, “Oh sweet girl, so wet for me. You’re a fucking dream.”

As much as he wanted to taste you, lick you until you couldn’t see, the need to be inside of you was too great to allow for any more time apart. Propping himself on one arm, Poe gripped your thigh, lifting it from the ground, and gently rocked his hips forward, groaning as you tightly gripped around his cock, your body needing his just as much.

“Oh fuck, Poe...”

“I know—I’ve got you,” Poe whispered, settling between your thighs, he dropped your leg and lowered his body fully over yours, careful to keep his weight on his arm. He captured your lips against his as he slowly dragged his cock back, then rutted forward, building a slow pace meant to draw out the feeling of bliss for as long as possible. “Missed you—dreamt of you every night, baby, every fucking night.”

You had one hand tangled in Poe’s curls, the other pressed into his lower back and your legs wrapped around his hips. You whimpered, “N-never leaving you again,” The words came out strained, thick with emotion even as you moaned at the feel of him moving within you, “It’s you a-and me, f-forever. Forever.” Your back arched slightly, and Poe groaned at the change in angle, your walls clamping around him harder.

“Fuck,” He felt himself getting close and quickly slid his free hand between his body and yours, slamming into you as he circled your clit tenderly. “Forever, sweet girl, I promise—cum for me, let me feel you—“

“Poe—“ You whined, your eyes fluttering as your pleasure spiked, and he felt your body go rigid beneath him as his hips stuttered—he came with you, spilling himself with a groan as you trembled and moaned, then pressing himself as deep as he could while you both came tumbling back to each other.

When Poe finally collapsed next to you, he slipped out of you carefully before tugging you into his side, pressing his lips to the crown of your head while you both caught your breath. “Still...still got it, flyboy.” You joked, giggling when Poe shifted to look down at you with a smirk.

“I was going to say the same to you.”

“Ah well, it’s busy work running around after a baby, you know. Keeps you fit.” You grinned, snuggling against Poe as the cool night air seemed to seep between you. He reached above his head, grabbing his shirt and tossing it over your upper body to protect you from getting too cold.

Once he was satisfied you were comfortable, he rolled so that he was looking down at you, your head resting on his forearm. “Sweet girl, you—I mean, Charlie is perfect. You kept her safe, raised her, taught her who I was...I can never thank you enough, but I’m going to spend the rest of my life trying.”

“Oh Poe,” You smiled, your eyes glistening as you gazed up at him with a fondness that he felt almost undeserving of, a hand cupping his cheek. “You came back to us, that’s all I could have ever asked for—you’re alive and you’re here.” You choked up, then, and Poe leaned down to press his forehead to yours, cupping your cheek softly with one hand.

You lay together for a short while; until the cold became too much. Curling up together in bed sounded almost too good to be true. “Come on, sweet girl, let’s get some sleep,” He gathered you in his arms, pausing as you grabbed at the clothing he wasn’t going to bother putting on, and carried you into the yurt, the blanket abandoned in the grass outside.

When Poe had his body pressed against yours under the comforter of the bed you’d slept in alone all this time, he kept his arms securely around you and felt peace wash over him, “Going to introduce you to some pretty special friends in the morning, and then we can plan our next steps, my love.”

With a happy little sigh, you tucked your head into his neck and fell asleep promptly, your light snores lulling him until, just at the precipice of sleep, he smiled to himself—he was home.

The first thing you noticed when you woke early the next morning was the bed next to you was empty. Your hands roamed for Poe and when you didn’t find him you sat up quickly, wondering if perhaps you had dreamt of the day prior, of him coming home...

Only, a little giggle from outside your room sounded and you heard Poe proudly declare, “Clever, just like your mama, Charlie girl.”

You hadn’t ever known happiness like this, truly. Your heart was full and repaired and you couldn’t believe how after so much time, so many years of mistakes and pain, you were married to your best friend and he was currently waiting for you to wake up while caring for your baby, the little girl who shared traits of the both of you. This felt like a dream, but it was so raw it couldn’t be anything other than real.

You sprang from bed, throwing on your robe and hurrying out to see Poe holding Charlie as he sat in the armchair, bouncing her on his knee as she giggled for him. When you paused to watch, a smile stretching over your face, he glanced up at you and his own broadened, eyes shining brightly with affection.

“Morning, mama,” His thick morning voice always sent heat through you, and the fact that he was sitting shirtless, his hard muscles flexing as he moved Charlie only doused further fuel on the fire within. He seemed to read that in your expression, his soft eyes darkening somewhat before he sent you a wink that said there’d be time for that again later.

Charlie had looked around to follow Poe’s gaze and she cooed loudly when she saw you, her hands raised towards you. You frowned, “Oh, now you want mama time? Could it be that you’re hungry?” Charlie made grabby hands as Poe laughed and you pulled her from his arms before settling into the chair next to him, easing your robe open enough for her to have access to your chest.

Settling her in for her meals was second nature to you; you knew the way she preferred to lay, how to hold her just right, that she liked to feed quietly in the mornings but at night you were allowed to rub her back and speak soothing words to her. As she began to suckle, you carefully adjusted your breast to make the angle more comfortable, then glanced up remembering that Poe was watching.

The expression on his face was stunning—he was watching you rapturously, as though the sight before him was the most beautiful he’d ever seen. You saw emotion mixed in with the awe and the adoration, and you knew he was feeling grateful he hadn’t missed something as pure as this entirely, that Charlie hadn’t grown too much.

You leaned your head back to rest and smiled at Poe warmly, “She’s on partial foods now, you can feed her yourself a little later, if you want.” You whispered, and his face brightened even more. You felt a bit like those first days after you’d joined him and your brother on D’Qar, the giddy joy of reuniting making the smiles stretch for days.

“I’d love that,” He shuffled his chair closer, resting one hand behind where you were holding Charlie, the other raising to brush over your cheek. “Does it...hurt?”

You shook your head and his look of concern relaxed, “Not really, she’s good about not biting,” Poe cringed at the thought and you giggled, “She’s a good baby. Now, you said you wanted us to meet your friends?”

He nodded, his expression softening sadly, “They’re the reason I was able to make it home to you...I have so much to tell you, but I want you to meet them first.” Poe’s eyes dropped down to watch Charlie again and you let him have a moment, recognizing he had suffered a great deal over the year and a half apart.

You let your eyes wander over his bare torso and noticed now, in the morning light, that he had some new scars, some angrier than the others. The idea of him having been hurt made your stomach sink, and you couldn’t help but lean toward him, capturing his lips against yours when he glanced up. He moaned softly at the tender kiss, petting your hair, and you let yourself sink into the moment, pulling back only when Charlie stirred.

“Where did you leave them?”

Poe gestured toward the main village, “Just outside the village, on our ship. I could go and get them—“

You shook your head, “I think a walk will do us all good. Let’s get dressed, eh Charlie?” You made a face at the baby, who was sleepily peering up at you, happy with her tummy now full, and she smiled at your expression.

Poe insisted on changing Charlie’s diaper and dressing her, so you merely stood by and watched, handing him her daytime outfit and trying not to laugh too hard as he struggled. You could see the joy in his eyes as he attempted to get her arms through the sleeves, his big hands so incredibly gentle as he worked. It took about twice as long as normal, but eventually, Charlie was ready to go and you took her from Poe, strapping her to your chest with a sarong, watching him as he dressed.

You wanted to ask about the new scars. But you were afraid when you did, it would open up the vault he was currently guarding and all of the terrible stories would come tumbling out. Enjoying this peaceful reunion for a little longer wouldn’t hurt anyone, so you resisted the urge and instead popped your head into Kes’s room to let him know where you were going.

“It was hard, not knowing anything,” You admitted quietly as you walked along with Poe, Charlie gazing around happily. The arm draped over your shoulders tightened somewhat at your words. “Leia sure picked a good place for us, though. It’s been quiet, safe.”

You glanced at him, the tension in his jaw confirming something you’d suspected since he’d arrived-after he’d mentioned it was thanks to one of his new friends that he’d been able to find you. Leia was gone, but he didn’t know how to tell you—just as much as you were avoiding asking him for details, he was reluctant to give them.

“Yeah, she knew what she was doing,” He replied softly before his eyes lit up. You followed his gaze and saw a large ship, its ramp lowered, come into view just as a familiar orange and white blur was speeding in your direction.

“Buddy!” You yelled, hurrying forward and dropping to one knee to greet BB8, one arm securing Charlie closer to ensure she didn’t get too jostled from your movements. The droid beeped and whirred excitedly and the baby began to giggle, craning her head to look at BB8. “Charlie, this is BB8, wave hi—“ You laughed as Charlie roughly flopped her chubby arm in the direction of the droid.

You could feel Poe’s hand resting lightly on the crown of your hand, and you looked up at him to speak but before you could, another voice chimed in. “Poe, man, you found them!” A handsome man with enviably smooth skin and a friendly grin was walking towards you with a pretty woman who had sad eyes next to him.

Poe helped you to stand back up, his arm securing around you as he led you forward to meet his friends. “Finn—Rey, meet my better half, (y/n), and my kid, Charlie.”

You saw the pair shoot wide-eyed looks at Poe when he said Charlie’s name, and you realized he must have told them about you, about your brother. The thought warmed your heart even further. You reached out and grasped each of their hands in turn, grinning, “It is really lovely to meet you, thank you for getting Poe back to me and Charlie safely.”

Finn smiled warmly, “Hey, he saved our asses as much as we saved his,” Poe shoved his arm playfully, laughing. Rey was quiet, you noticed, gazing at the baby thoughtfully. You wondered who she had lost.

“Do you want to hold her?” You asked, and Rey met your eyes in surprise, though after a brief pause she smiled nervously and nodded. Her smile lit up her whole face, and you were glad you thought to offer the baby as a way to pull it from her—babies had a way of making the sad a little less daunting.

You lifted Charlie out of the sarong, “Say hi to Auntie Rey, Charlie!” Charlie began to babble incoherently in that cheerful baby talk as she settled against Rey’s hip. She watched her, smiling to herself, before glancing between you and Poe.

“She’s beautiful,” Rey’s hand caught one of Charlie’s, squeezing gently, “Takes after her mama, clearly.” She tacked on, throwing Poe a look that made you laugh out loud.

Finn, you noticed, was watching Rey hold the baby with a quiet expression of adoration that made you smile inwardly. He caught you staring and grinned cheekily. As he began to chide Poe teasingly, a sudden memory came to mind, of the last time you had spoken to your father.

“Just remember, family always comes first—but we can make our own family, sweetie,” Dad squeezed your hand, “Family is what we make it, big or small, blood-related or not. So you make sure to surround yourself with good people, people you love and trust, and you’ll always have a family.”

And as you stood there, gazing at your new friends, the people who had ensured your Poe had come back to you, you realized that you were only adding to your family today. You felt like the luckiest woman in the entire galaxy, your heart was bursting with joy and hope for everything still to come.

Poe pressed a kiss to your temple, and you shot him a smile, knowing he felt it too.

Here, you thought, was where the next chapter of your life began. And you couldn’t be more excited.

A/N—THANK YOU for reading this story, for enjoying this journey with me and loving my characters so much. I’m hopeful you loved this final chapter and can’t wait to hear your thoughts. And of course, we still have the epilogue coming!🤍

Taglist

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#Night changes series #poe dameron x reader #poe dameron #poe dameron fanfiction #poe x reader #poe dameron smut #poe dameron fluff #star wars #star wars x reader #star wars fanfiction #rey star wars #finn x poe #poe and bb8 #oscar Isaac

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deniigi · 4 years ago

Note

A fic from Boba’s POV as a babysitter seeing Din’s family dynamics isn’t self indulgent it’s indulgent to your readers - fuck, that sounds like the best, most hilarious thing ever?!? (With peppered in bits of Boba’s identity crisis/diaspora feels)

I say you release babysitter boba fic ;) It sounds hilarious

Ask and you shall receive, anons. Beware. It’s like 11k of world building lol.

(I will post here and not on Ao3 because I’m not ready for that level of commitment rn lol)

Title: in the plains of Zeffo

Summary:

“I don’t like him,” Karren told Din.

“Concurred,” Din said.

“Ad’ika,” the Armorer scolded.

“I will not be shamed into liking him, either,” Din asserted.

“Din,” Karren whined.

“I’ll consider coming home if it means there will be no space for Bojzka,” Din said.

(Din’s original finder’s old crush on the Armorer is rekindled after he helps her reunite with Din. He tries to win her favor, but keeps getting tripped up by Din who knows she’s not interested. Boba Fett’s POV.)

---------------------------------------------------------------------

There was little more entertaining than watching Djarin snap.

Boba ten years ago would have spat at the very idea that such meagre fare would suit his humor, but he was getting old, man. You had to take what you could get, and Djarin’s bared rage was a sight to behold.

Currently, he was locked in combat with Urro Bojzka. The Urro Bojzka. The one who even Boba had heard of, growing up on Kamino.

Dad had had some pointed feelings about Mr. Bojzka. Mainly, they revolved around how it was unfair that everyone called him an opportunistic traitor when Bojzka continued to exist and thrive in the universe at large, but Dad also had more specific feelings about Bojzka that bordered on jealousy.

Urro Bojzka was said to be the ideal Mandalorian man.

He was big. He was strong. He sounded like he’d smoked six different kinds of spice for forty years, and nothing and no one could take him down.

The cherry on top was that he was notorious for rescuing kids. The man had snatched nearly two hundred up out of smoking ruins and battlefields. A good twenty or thirty had become foundlings and then Mandalorians themselves, and counted among their number now, to Bo-Katan’s absolute glee, was their sweet, precious Din Djarin.

They should have known. Din was the epitome of Mandalorian; it figured that Urro Bojzka himself would have picked him up as a child.

Din however, had little appreciation for this fact beyond that which was only polite. He made it very clear that he’d already thanked Bojzka for taking him out of his childhood hellhole. He’d done that bare minimum and so no one could ask anything more of him.

Bojzka had other plans.

It turned out that Urro Bojzka had a thing for Din’s covert’s Armorer. God, did he have a thing. And not only did he have a thing, but he’d had it for decades.

Apparently, a thousand years ago, when Boba and Din and all the others around them had still been rolling around on dirt floors trying to eat beetles and shit, Bojzka had attempted to court Din’s Armorer. He’d gone as far and wide as a young Mando could. He’d tried flowers, perfume, credits, displays of strength and courage. He’d tried gifts of food and offers of travel. He’d even stooped so low as to read a book.

None of it had gone well for him. And that was probably because Din’s Armorer had recently proven herself to be no less than one of the heiresses of the Katzkai clan.

The Renda Bears. Those people were hard-fucking-core.

When Bo-Katan found out that Din’s ‘Goran’ was, in fact, Nomri Katzkai, the second daughter of Lanlee Katzai and the official apprentice of Fii Katzkai, the imperial Armorer himself, she threw up her hands and declared all endeavors hopeless now.

Din was one of them; he just didn’t know it. And his buir, who had removed herself from her family to be even more hardcore than anyone would have thought possible, didn’t seem overly excited to start explaining shit to him anytime soon.

So here they were. With Din about to kill one of the most famous war heroes in recent Mandalorian history over a crush that wouldn’t quit.

Bojzka smiled at him with dark eyes with scars through both of his eyebrows.

“Just a message,” he lobbied. “One letter.”

Boba would’ve fucked him. Yeah, why not? Just look at him.

“She’s busy,” Din said. “You’ll have to submit it to Eegang Quodo. That’s E-e-g-a—”

“Yeah, see. Here’s the thing, kid. This letter’s gonna be kinda personal, if you catch my drift—”

“Q-u-o—”

“—probably not great for the eyes of anyone who ain’t, you know, in on this whole relationship—”

“—d-o. He’s usually busy, too. So you probably should submit it to Paz, instead. He’ll lose it for you forever. That’s P-a-z—”

Fennec hid a razor-sharp grin behind a clenched fist. She flashed it at Boba.

‘I love him’ she mouthed, pointing at Din’s hiked-up shoulders. Even his cape seemed to have gone stiff in Bojzka’s presence.

“Din, honey. Listen to me,” Bojzka crooned. “I know you’re protective of your mama, but—”

“She’s not my mother. Don’t you fucking dare call her that, you hulking piece of—”

“Ah-ah-ah. You’re not listening. Come on. Chin up. Ears open.”

Bojzka tapped at the bottom of Din’s helmet like a CO with a teenage recruit, and Fennec just about screamed when Din went completely still and silent.

Bo-Katan met Boba’s gaze out of the corner of her eye. She mimed a syringe. Boba shook his head. If this fucker got bit, he deserved whatever infection it brought.

“Atta boy,” Bojzka said to Din’s rigid silence. “Here’s how it is: your mama and me go way, way back. And you know, after your touching reunion the other week, she even went and had a drink with me, and we got to talkin’ and started to reconnect, the old folks do. And I could read her body language, Din-Din. She wants a man. And that man’s me. So instead of actin’ like a child over all this, why don’t we—”

“She wanted Naseem,” Din snapped. “But Naseem died. Twenty years ago, he died. You just wear similar boots.”

Get ‘im, Djarin. Get ‘im.

“I—who?” Bojzka snapped.

“Naseem,” Din repeated like he was an idiot. “Traditional, bantha-sized, green armor. He worked all the time to keep all the kids in the covert fed.”

Bojzka processed this.

“Naseem what?” he asked stiffly.

“He’s dead,” Din said. “And Hajka left. So no. Goran needs neither a man or a woman, and especially not you. What she needs is a break and for Karren to stop fighting people on sight.”

Bojzka backtracked like a champ.

“Karren, that’s her youngest, right?” he asked. “Well, I bet Karren could use some sisters. I bet he’s lonely over there on, uh.”

“Zeffo,” Din gritted out. “And no. He’s not. He has three sisters. One of which is still at the covert, terrorizing him left and right.”

Even Bo-Katan could only empathize so much with Bojzka, war hero or nah.

“Why’re you all up in arms, Din? What’d I do to you?” Bojzka finally asked. “Don’t you want your buir to be happy?”

Din’s shoulders finally came down from his helmet.

“Of course, I do,” he said. “Which is why if you set so much as a toe on Zeffo, I’m taking both of your knees with me to Yavin.”

Any parent would have been proud to have Din as their child. He took family honor to a level that even the Katzkai clan would have had a hard time sniffing at.

He had to have learned this from the wayward heiress. Although, if Boba was honest, he didn’t really think that the wayward heiress was all that wayward.

She’d come to visit Din on Tatooine. She was short and stocky and not terribly interested in the court or anyone outside of Din.

She wasn’t nearly as hostile as Bo-Katan expected either. She didn’t appear to love anything that she was looking at, no, but Din had explained that that was mostly because she wasn’t really a fan of him having become Mand’alor to start with.

When she came to visit, anyways, she was far more interested in getting a good fuss in to give herself peace of mind that Din was okay. That way she could then go back to dealing with the apparently endless series of crises at the new covert.

She was a great parent in that way. She even brought along her youngest, so that he could see his big brother.

That kid was fuckin’ adorable. Maybe fourteen or fifteen years old. Barely, barely, barely in armor. He was strapped into his leathers so tight, he looked like he was stuffed with straw.

He had medium-brown skin with yellow undertones and huge, nearly-black eyes. Coarse black hair poured into his face and curled around his ears—and if he thought he was going to stuff all that in a helmet one day, he had another thing coming.

He bopped after his buir when they entered the palace and stopped occasionally to stare up in awe at the palace’s high ceilings. Upon realizing that he’d lost his escort, he scampered along to catch up and did the whole thing again and again until buir had enough and snatched his hand.

He didn’t like that. He was fourteen-fifteen years old. He was too big for hand-holding, buir.

Never too old to be ignored, though.

“Goraaaaaan.”

“Hush,” the Armorer told him. “Keep up.”

He was handed off to Boba outside Din’s personal quarters, mostly because he was making such a fuss at the Armorer that she began contemplating leaving him at the palace forever. Din intervened and the kid latched onto him instead until Din convinced him that he’d be available talk just as soon as he and their buir were done speaking.

The kid’s name was Karren.

He and Boba were now best friends.

“—so Goran said, ‘I’m not having that idiot in my rooms.’ But then Eegang said, ‘we already have Paz in these rooms,’ and you’re not supposed to laugh, Mr. Fett, but we all did because we’re all stupid. So we had to do like, a thousand chores for eavesdropping.”

“So she’s not into him, then?” Fennec clarified. “He’s really into her, you know.”

“Of course, I know,” Karren lamented. “But Goran’s picky and the last person she was all close with was Hajka and we’re not allowed to talk about her anymore or Din’ll make you do two hundred push-ups while he watches.”

Amazing. Say more about Din’s oldest-child syndrome, little one.

“No, I like Din,” Karren sighed. “Now that Digo’s gone, he’s even nicer.”

Oh?

“What happened to Digo?” Boba asked as Bo-Katan joined them in curiosity.

“Digo’s a jerk is what happened,” Karren huffed. “She wanted Goran to give over the forge and join the elders, but Goran isn’t even that old. So when she said ‘no,’ Digo got mad and said that the only foundling Goran respects is Din. Which is bullshit because everyone knows that Goran has always been the nicest with Digo and Nasif—she made all sorts of excuses for them, Mr. Fett, like when they went out and got caught stealing parts like Jawas, she did four whole hunts to raise their bail. When Din gets in trouble, he takes care of it himself. He doesn’t ask Goran to do that kind of thing. And me and Shimmol just don’t get in that kind of trouble to start with—but no. Digo had to be all ‘if you don’t treat us as equals, then we’re gonna leave and start our own forge.’”

“No kidding,” Fennec said. “So they left?”

“Yeah, both of them ‘cause Nasif does anything Digo tells her to,” Karren said, kicking his feet. “And good riddance.”

Too many sisters, this one had. Boba felt for him.

“So Goran’s still recovering from that betrayal, I take it?” he asked.

Karren frowned and chewed a lip.

“I dunno,” he admitted. “No one tells me anything. I think that Goran’s been more worried about Din than them after all that happened. We thought he got crunched by the jedi—or at least I thought he got crunched. Paz says that Jedis compact Mandalorians into cubes of armor and Din’s got the best armor.”

Do not laugh at the child. Do not laugh at the child.

“I don’t think Jedis crunch Mandalorians,” Bo-Katan said generously, having snuck into the bare antechamber while everyone was distracted with the kid’s story.

“Well, I do,” Karren countered, with zero conception of who he was talking to.

Fennec beamed.

“Do you like this Urro guy?” she asked.

“No,” Karren answered immediately. “He’s sent Eegang four messages and they’re all gross.”

Yep.

It was gonna be a late puberty for this one.

“What makes them gross?” Bo-Katan asked.

“The mush,” Karren said expertly. “Bojzka calls Goran ‘Nomri.’ That’s a bad word at home. No one says that word. Goran is ‘Goran.’ The only people who call her anything else are the elders.”

“And you and your siblings, no?” Bo-Katan asked.

Karran cocked his head at her.

“Yeah, and ‘buir’ I guess, if we aren’t in trouble,” he said.

Bless him.

“Are you in trouble a lot?” Bo-Katan asked.

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

“I dunno. I got a temper or something.”

“Is Din in trouble?”

“With buir? No, not like me and Shimmol. He’s too old to be in that kind of trouble. His trouble’s like ‘help, I fell a hundred feet off a cliff’ kind of trouble. He gives Goran indigestion, but she can’t make him reflect on falling a million feet out of a ship—Eegang says that’s called ‘rehashing trauma.’”

The covert on Zeffo sounded like it was holding itself together through sheer force of will and that alone.

Where did Boba sign up? It sounded like a fantastic experiment to pass the time.

“Are you a foundling, Karren?” Boba asked.

The kid lit up.

“Yeah,” he said. “I’ve been with Goran for five years now. Six in a few months. My dad’s a piece of shit. He killed my mom, and Goran got him arrested for that and for what he did to my auntie.”

Well, fuck. That explained a lot.

“And you like it there—on Zeffo?” Bo-Katan asked.

Karren shrugged.

“It’s cold and wet,” he said. “I liked Nevarro better. Din was home more on Nevarro.”

Awww.

“Aren’t you proud of Din for becoming Mand’alor?” Bo-Katan asked as gently as she could manage.

Karren’s frown eased up finally.

“No,” he said. “Din should just come home. He doesn’t need to be Mand’alor or married to some jedi. He should just come home. It’s stupid; his foundling should have stayed with us from the start. We always have room for more foundlings. I dunno why he had to leave with his foundling at all.”

Bo-Katan sat back and sighed.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “If it helps, I think he just wants to come home, too.”

“So let him,” Karren blurted out to her.

Tough tits, kid. That wasn’t how it worked.

“I think we should perhaps focus on one thing at a time,” Bo-Katan said. “What do you think, Fett?”

What did Boba think?

Boba thought that he had a great idea to distract this kid from missing his big brother.

---

Karren was perhaps a little too small still to reach the brakes in the crawler, but you know what? So was Fennec sometimes and she did just fine.

“Gas,” Boba said, pointing. “Neutral. Brake. Park.”

“Gas, neutral, brake, park,” Karren repeated to him with his hands on the wheel and his knobbly wrists peeking out from the gap between his gloves and his leather braces.

Bo-Katan had refused to be present or responsible for this. Fennec had told them to wait while she went and took a shot first. ‘For safety’ she said.

“What’s neutral for?”

“You’re about to tell me,” Boba said, adjusting the rear view mirrors down to kid-height.

The sound of Fennec throwing herself onto the back of the crawler rattled through to their compartment.

“That’s our signal,” Boba said. “You ready to jam?”

“Jam?” Karren asked him.

Hm.

Punch it?

“Punch what?”

The fuck kind of slang did they use at the covert?

“Rock?”

“OH. Yeah, I’m ready.”

There we go. Onward march then.

---

An hour later, Din sighed with Karren whining under his arm.

“There is a reason he’s not trained yet, Fett,” Din said as Karren started chomping on the bunched-up flightsuit in his elbow.

The Armorer pressed both palms into the forehead of her helmet.

The crawler had perhaps seen better days. But it had also seen worse days, and Fennec was still going through little loops of cackling at the memory of having to chase after its open tailgate. Boba didn’t understand what all the fuss was about. The kid had done amazingly well for his first time at the wheel.

“I’m leaving all of you,” Karren grated out, trying miserably to escape Din’s elbow-prison. “I want to be Mr. Fett’s foundling.”

Bless him.

“You don’t,” Din told him forcefully. “Fett can’t handle a foundling.”

Ay, Boba would drink to that. He was happy to be a foundling-sitter and borrower, though.

“Buir,” Karren pleaded.

“You make me tired, child,” the Armorer told him. “Say goodbye to vod.”

“NO.”

Din sighed. The Armorer sighed. Karren, in a beautiful 180, latched onto Din’s ribs again.

“Come hooooooome,” he pleaded with Din.

“I caaaaaaan’t,” Din drawled back at him in a delightfully uncharacteristic tone.

“These people don’t need you. We need you. Shimmol took your bed and if you don’t take it back, she’s gonna keep it.”

Din’s shoulders dropped.

“I told Shimmol that she could take my bunk, Karren,” he said. “I’m not using it—”

“BUT YOU COULD BE.”

Boba took it back. He could take on a foundling. Fuck it, why not? This one was great.

“Come here,” Din said, dragging the kid up to his toes. He knocked the front of his helmet against Karren’s forehead with enough force that the bump was noticeable. That made the kid shut up and stand up straight on his own volition again.

“Soon,” Din told him forcefully. “Behave for buir.”

“Promise,” Karren demanded.

“Ehn.”

“Din, promise.”

“I dunno, kid. I’ve got a husband and all these damn kids to worry about.”

“Bring them. All of them.”

“No room,” Din said without missing a beat. “You have no idea how much space the husband needs to thrive.”

“Well, if you don’t come, then Urro’s gonna try to move in,” Karren snapped.

Din actually paused at that. The Armorer shook her helmet.

“Territorialism becomes neither of you,” she said. “If Urro wishes to join our covert, then we will treat him as we treat any other who wishes to.”

Din’s helmet seemed to squint at her. Karren glared outright.

“I don’t like him,” he told Din.

“Concurred,” Din said.

“Ad’ika,” the Armorer scolded.

“I will not be shamed into liking him, either,” Din asserted.

“Din,” Karren whined.

“I’ll consider coming home if it means there will be no space for Bojzka,” Din said.

“Carry on with your work and give my best to the jedi and the child,” the Armorer said with an air of dismissal. “Come, Karren. Thank you three for looking after him. Apologies for the vehicle. Come.”

Boba missed that kid already.

--------

Bojzka, Boba had to say, really had no shame and he could almost appreciate that. Either that, or Din’s buir was a catch that the rest of them were failing to appreciate.

“How bad can it be?” the guy mused at Din’s stiff, furious hands mere days after the Armorer and Karren’s departure. “It’s a helmet, right? You can take it off with the people who matter, no?”

“We do not take it off,” Din said from between clenched teeth.

“Right, I got that. But there are exceptions for kids and spouses,” Bojzka said. “Or did I misread that part?”

Din was going to start shaking at any minute now. Bo-Katan assigned Boba the task of making sure he didn’t commit War-hero-homicide while she went off to find a calming device. It was only polite. It wasn’t Bojzka’s fault after all that he’d come in right after a tense meeting with a dissident group from Mandalore itself that made even Bo-Katan’s jaw jump.

“I think the rule is more important than the exceptions here,” Boba pointed out on Din’s behalf. “Joining the Children of the Watch isn’t something to take lightly.”

Din pointed at him wordlessly. Bojzka lazily followed the finger and then pointedly ignored Boba.

“What I’m hearing is that if we marry first, nothing changes,” he said.

Din’s index finger curled in with the rest of his knuckles until it was a fist.

“She is not looking to marry,” he said.

“What, so you speak for her now?”

“She is not looking to marry.”

“I can repeat things, too. Wanna see? You don’t speak for Nomri, Din.”

Boba was getting the feeling that Ms. Katzkai sort of did let Din speak for her in these types of situations. He was, after all, her oldest. And it sounded like he was the most loyal of her foundlings, too. If she shared anything personal with anyone besides her second in command, then it was going to be Din. That was just how these things worked.

“Did you call Eegang?” Din asked.

“I did,” Bojzka said. “He’s not especially helpful, I have to say. He keeps sending my missives back to me with grammar corrections.”

No. No. Keep it in, Boba. Keep it stoic.

“Eegang is the second CO at the covert,” Din said. “If you won’t take my word for it, then you’ll take his.”

Bojzka arched a fucked-up eyebrow.

“Eegang, the same guy who is allegedly secretly married to his partner? That Eegang?” he asked.

Din balked. Boba felt like electricity had just rocketed through him.

“Eegang is—” Din started.

“Nomri told me about him,” Bojzka said off-handedly. “She seems to think that he’s bitten off more than he can chew with taking on his last kid.”

“Eegang—”

“Something about baby being blind? Funny, did you not think that she trusted me enough to talk about her people?”

Any more of this and steam would start rising from the lip of Din’s helmet.

Thankfully, Bo-Katan returned with the jedi, AKA the calming device. Skywalker even came equipped with Grogu. They both appeared very confused and innocent, what with Skywalker drowning in his formal robes. They looked like they were going to absorb Grogu at any moment.

A+ distraction work, Kryze. Well done making yourself useful.

“Who’s Eegang?” Skywalker asked.

The line pulled taut across Din’s shoulders began to loosen.

“A comrade,” he said sharply in Bojzka’s direction.

“Is he nice?” Skywalker asked. Grogu chirped at him and resumed trying to dig into his multitude of collars.

“Very nice,” Din confirmed, staring deep into Bojzka’s eyes.

“He’s got foundlings, too?” Skywalker asked.

“Two,” Din confirmed. “Who he adores. Regardless of all challenges.”

Ah. It wasn’t just Eegang Din was protective of. It was the baby. Bojzka had really stuck his foot into that one.

“I’m sure the foundlings are fine,” Bojzka said. “It was just Nomri’s concern that—”

“Stop calling her that in my presence,” Din said. “In fact, let’s drop the whole thing now.”

--------

Boba wanted to meet secretly-married Eegang. He sounded like he had a rich interior life. Din gave him a strong look and said that if the Armorer had left the covert, Eegang would not. One of them had to be there at all times.

Bo-Katan asked what Eegang’s speciality was.

Surprise, surprise: it was diplomacy.

Kryze was now invested. She followed Din around on his heels and suggested that if the Armorer gave words to Eegang to deliver during a formal meeting with the Mand’alor, then Bojzka might finally get the picture that Katzkai wasn’t interested in him.

Din thought about that.

He asked if this was not just a ploy for Boba and Bo-Katan to rally his covert comrades against him.

And it honestly wasn’t until he phrased it like that.

-----------

Eegang was tall, sea-green, and in Bojzka’s face without so much as a by-your-leave.

“Three tests,” he threatened Bojzka with a baby on his hip. “One: stop sending transmissions. Two: get Elder Fayrz to approve your presence. Three: make even one of Goran’s foundlings like you. If you pass all three, your admission will be taken into consideration.”

The baby was very pink with curly hair so pale it was almost white. Its blue-gray eyes moved rapidly back and forth as it cuddled into its buir’s teal armor. Bojzka glanced from it to Eegang’s chipped helmet.

“Where did you find him?” he asked.

“Please give confirmation of your understanding,” Eegang said mechanically.

“He’s kinda cute.”

“Please give confirmation of your understanding.”

“Are you a droid or somethin’?”

“Please give—”

“Alright, alright. Fuck. This is confirmation of my understanding.”

“Excellent. This conversation is over,” Eegang said. “It is your responsibility to contact the elder and earn the approval.”

Bojzka jerked.

“Wait, what?” he said. “How am I supposed to do that if y’all won’t even let me through the door?”

Eegang’s helmet tipped so daintily to the side that Boba could have shed a tear.

“That sounds like a you-problem,” Eegang said.

-----------

Eegang thereafter blocked Bojzka out of his mind and heart. He introduced himself with a dipping motion to Kryze and Boba that probably would have been more dramatic if he’d opted to wear a cape, which he did not. He revealed himself to be exceedingly polite and very fond of Din, though—if the gentle armor tapping and the use of the word ‘little brother’ was anything to go by. Din was usually receptive to gestures like that, Boba had learned, but not this time.

No, no. Din cared not for his ‘big brother.’ He cared only for the attention of Eegang’s baby.

“His name is Mesa,” Eegang explained after Din had kidnapped said baby. He introduced Mesa to Grogu who was stationed nearby, stuffed in the sleepy jedi’s shirt this time. . Grogu waved from Skywalker’s chest, but Mesa didn’t register the motion.

“His grandmother was quite ill, and it was her dying wish to see the child placed into the care of someone trustworthy. I have to admit, though, I may have made the decision a little rashly,” Eegang hummed as he watched Grogu lean as far as he could out of Skywalker’s clothing to try to make contact with his fellow foundling.

“Is he your first?” Bo-Katan asked.

Eegang winced.

“No, uh. I’ve got another,” he said. “She’s a huge fan of certain someones.”

“Me,” Din said without hesitation.

“And Paz,” Eegang said. “Which is a deadly combination.”

“She will be a mighty warrior,” Din informed Mesa and Skywalker. Skywalker twitched awake and didn’t understand anything that was happening. He noticed the baby, cooed, and waved with his gloved hand.

“She’s declared this one goat her nemesis and I cannot—I cannot—get her to just leave it alone,” Eegang said.

“A goat clan in the making,” Din said with approval.

“I’m hearing unnecessary commentary,” Eegang said without looking at him. “Please rephrase or shut up.”

Din seemed to gloat at the scolding. Skywalker glanced between him and his tall, teal comrade. He made his move and carefully came in to extract baby Mesa from Din’s arms to add him to his ever-growing collection. Grogu cooed again, closer now. He offered Mesa a hand, and this time, Mesa perked up and tried to grab at it clumsily.

“You manage the covert in the Armorer’s absence?” Bo-Katan asked Eegang. “You must be very dedicated to the Children of the Watch.”

“Define ‘manage’ and then ‘dedicated,’” Eegang said. “I prefer ‘accidentally charged with responsibility one too many times’ and ‘in too deep to turn back now.’”

“He’s being humble,” Din said. “Eegang has brokered peace between our covert and locals on numerous occasions.”

Eegang’s shoulders started to raise.

“Stop telling people that, they’re going to expect things from me,” he said, then popped back up like flipped switch. “Oh, I totally forgot why I even came. Jedi?”

Skywalker looked up from the conference of baby talk happening in his arms all wide-eyed, as though he’d been caught in the act of stealing imperial property.

“We did not welcome you into our covert,” Eegang said, “You must allow us to present you with a gift of welcome and entry.”

Oho. Very formal. Boba folded his arms and watched Skywalker for his reaction.

“A what?” Skywalker asked.

-------

Bojzka was somewhat justifiably upset at the double standard going on here.

Skywalker was a jedi and yet welcomed into the covert with open arms and no admission requirements. He was, in fact, measured against his will for a set of armor. This was what Din’s buir had actually been after when she’d sent Eegang along to say hi.

Boba found that he enjoyed the reciprocation of ulterior motives that they were getting from Din’s covert. Kryze had never been happier. This was a game that she knew how to play.

“Wait no, hold up,” Bojzka interrupted. “I deserve a chance. Din, at least give me the name of one of your siblings so I can track them down with the elder.”

Din didn’t want to; there were foundlings happening and another meeting soon, but eventually even he had to give the guy something.

An honorable battle required at least two willing bodies.

-----------

Din and Karren’s remaining sibling at the covert’s name was Shimmol. According to Din, Bojzka had next to no chance of gaining her favor because she did not leave the forge and therefore Bojzka had no access to her. Eegang corrected Din and said that Shimmol did, in fact, leave the forge, but never on her own volition.

She was preferred the dark. She hated social interaction.

To circumvent that, the Armorer had refused to induct her into the trade until she proved herself able to coexist with others. But Shimmol was eighteen, that fun age where no incentive or punishment was effective and digging your heels in was far more preferable to doing a damn thing your elders mentioned.

She’s announced that very weekend that she was officially becoming a recluse. Her present aspiration in life was apparently now to become a forge spider.

Bojzka, along with everyone else, had no idea how to receive this information. Kyrze took it upon herself to pat Bojzka on the shoulder and tell him to start with the elder. He might actually have some luck that way.

-------

It took two weeks for Bojzka to re-emerge from whatever hellhole he’d had to walk a tightrope across to locate the covert’s elder Fayrz. He climbed in through Din’s personal quarters’ window and interrupted him and the Jedi in a moment of infrequent intimacy.

The sound of a body being throw over a bannister had a special kind of thud to it. Boba was up on out of his quarters in an instant.

Din flung Bojzka’s helmet after him. Skywalker had the grace to cover Djarin’s face with his shirt and walk him back into the room before anyone caught sight of it, telling Boba and Fennec, who had also emerged from her bed, prepared for drama, that all was fine. There was just a misunderstanding.

His bare torso was covered in scars. Boba found himself somehow surprised and impressed as the jedi unsuccessfully wrangled his furious husband back in the direction of bed.

He and Fennec peeked over the banister to see what had become of Bojzka. He was fine.

Fennec informed Boba that she was claiming part of his bed ‘in case anything else good happened’ since he was closer.

-----

In the morning, Din was in marginally better spirits. Skywalker was to be found at his side, walking backwards and tripping over his cloak every four paces. He truly knew how to hit all Din’s ‘endeared’ buttons. If not to the earnestness and the near-miss of a disaster on the stairs, it would have looked like manipulation.

Bojzka attempted to rectify the peace by breaking into the court through one of the windows high up on the wall outside the second floor’s conference room. This time, to ensure that he had Din’s full attention, he removed the jedi from the equation. Or he tried to anyways.

The jedi, in a split second, decided that, all joking aside, today, he would not be moved. His green saber managed to glow even in the sunlight pouring in to the hall.

“Do not touch,” he ordered, with both feet planted and Din and Grogu securely at his back.

Bojzka cocked his head at the saber pointed right at his nose.

“That’s a fun trick,” he said.

“Do not touch,” Skywalker repeated. “Me, him, or the child.”

“I’ll think about it,” Bojzka said. “Stand down before you regret it.”

“Luke,” Din said testily. “He’s not worth it.”

“Make me regret it,” Skywalker said to Bojzka.

Bojzka’s eyes widened slightly in interest. He used the back of his wrist to try to nudge the saber’s tip away and snapped his hand away from the burn.

“Do you expect me to be afraid of you, jedi?” he asked, trying to play it off.

Skywalker’s eyes reflected the light of his saber.

“Ask him what the glove’s for,” Fennec called from the far hall. Bojzka scoffed. Skywalker didn’t move.

“What happened to your hand?” Bojzka asked.

“My father cut it off,” Skywalker said. “But not to worry, I got a new one. Now step back. Sir.”

Bojzka didn’t move for a long time.

“Does it feel good to walk in the presence of these people?” he asked. “Is it a kink for you the way it was for your master?”

Boba had officially lost the plot. These were old politics now. Kryze would know what Bojzka was talking about, if only she deigned to come out from wherever she was hiding, which she wouldn’t. Of course.

“Does it offend you? My presence here?” Skywalker asked back without emotion.

“It doesn’t,” Bojzka said.

“I’m glad. That’s very convenient for me. I’d feel terrible if you bled out on these tiles,” Skywalker said. “So move.”

And goddamn. The mountain finally yielded to the sky.

-------

Skywalker spent the rest of the day on high alert, with one hand on the hilt of his saber and his full concentration tied up with making fierce eyes into the palace’s corners to keep Bojzka at bay. It was really something to see. Din looked about ready to lay his fingers on his heart and swoon, and that was more than fair. If Boba’s spouse threatened to kill a man for looking at him wrong, he’d be touched too.

Fennec told Boba that she’d protect him from a man the size of a bantha but no larger, and it just didn’t have the same kind of ring.

She apologized and he told her it was fine. It was just in the delivery--and also, he’d murder anyone so blinked at her wrong, too.

She was pleased. Boba was glad they were on the same page.

“Let’s go find Kryze to negotiate,” Fennec said, “I need to know why Old Faithful’s back.”

--------

Kryze’s commanding voice wrang out of Bojzka the real reason for his presence. The truth of the matter was that, War Hero aside, he was having a hell of a time getting the covert elder to grant him a second look.

Din told him that that was the point. Elder Fayrz was like that all day, every day and he’d change for no body, spiritual or physical. He bothered people when he wanted to bother them, and the rest of the time, he liked to pretend he was senile. He only really ever showed up if someone was buying a round or their life was in the balance.

Skywalker said that he sounded a lot like his late master.

Din agreed and said that Elder Fayrz had dedicated his life to two things: the covert children and fungi. Somehow, he made those two interests overlap. Din recalled being twelve and being taken out on a ‘mission’ by the old man who had informed him that he required his nose.

Elder Fayrz had no sense of smell. For a man with a fungi interest, he called this ‘very dangerous business indeed.’

Kryze demanded to know if all the weirdest Mandalorian elders still living had congregated at Din’s cohort which he quickly confirmed. Bojzka, however, demanded to know what would make this elder look him in the eye.

Din told him to go find a deathbed and lay on it.

He remembered belatedly to add ‘nearby Elder Fayrz’ to that statement.

----------

After about a month of this kind of back and forth, the Armorer decided that she’d had enough. She did not come to the Dune Sea. She sent a missive to Din informing him that he was coming home.

‘To talk,’ she said.

Boba vaguely remembered Karren saying something along the lines of ‘Din doesn’t get into trouble anymore,’ and was pleased to find that that was not the case. Din already knew what awaited him at his home covert and anyone with slightly more than a rock for a brain could see that it wasn’t going to be hugs and kisses.

Bojzka volunteered to accompany Din as a guard when the jedi made himself conveniently unavailable. Kryze and Boba flipped a coin while Din resisted stabbing him, and of course Boba won. Kryze flipped it again to be sure, and Boba told her sweetly that he’d send her a postcard.

“Have fun with the schmucks lounging around this place,” he gloated at Bo-Katan’s rolling shoulders.

She gave him two naughty fingers.

Whatever, girl. Sucks to suck. Bye, bye, now. Come on, Fennec. There’s adventure to be had.

---------

It was a ways to the new covert on Zeffo. Several hours, in fact, many of which were spent playing ‘I spy’ with Fennec while Bojzka gritted his teeth and asked them if they were always like this.

Fennec got Din to join in at that comment.

Eventually they ran out of white dwarfs and capes to identify and settled down into silence until the ship declared landing to be imminent.

Karren remembered Boba and the second he set foot inside the curiously constructed covert entrance. The kid came hurtling up to tackle him and wrap arms around his middle. It was endearing. Boba checked the doors to see if a guard would notice a kidnapping.

Fennec reminded him of child-based expenses. Her wisdom was invaluable as usual.

Karren scrambled away from Boba and, for a moment, made like he was going to attach himself to Din’s armor, but instead wriggled past Din to go tearing down the hallway. He skidded, crashed, and then clambered into a different room at the dead end of what appeared to be a row of barracks. Seconds later, Eegang exploded from one of the rooms adjacent wearing no armor but his helmet. He flung himself through the same doorway Karren had vanished through.

Din tilted his head.

“It’s fine,” a voice said behind them.

Their small party turned to see a woman wearing a cool purple helmet with only her flakvest on. Eegang’s pale baby was sat on her hip, pawing at her chest, trying to find purchase in the vest.

“Sotra,” Din greeted.

“Welcome back, brat-child,” Sotra said. “We missed you.”

This had to be Eegang’s secret-wife; unless she’d stolen that gurgling foundling in the night or something.

“Electrical?” Din asked, pointing at the far room.

“Loft,” Sotra said. “There’s hay, so of course all the kids have to be in it.”

“Just hay?” Din asked.

“And goats,” Sotra said.

Ah.

“We raise goats now?” Din asked.

“Oh, no, no,” Sotra said, sashaying past him towards the room her husband had abandoned, “It’s either coexistence or war, I’m afraid. The forge is past the hangar, keep going through the kitchens. Voxie knows you’re here—he’s awake, by the way. Welcome home, Din.”

“Thanks,” Din said. “This is my advisor, Boba Fett and our friend Fennec.”

Sotra splayed her whole, tall body into the doorway of her and Eegang’s barracks just as a fearsome battle cry sounded out on the other side.

“Hi,” she said.

“RELEASE ME,” a child in front of her about hip-height with serious bedhead shrieked in Mando’a.

Fennec’s eyebrows launched up to her forehead. Boba felt like he needed to record this so that Kryze understood what she was missing.

“Vod Din is home,” Sotra told the child.

“DIN.”

“Shhhh.”

“RELEASE M—mmf.”

“Shhhhh. It’s quiet time,” Sotra said with her free hand over the child’s mouth. “We’re being quiet.”

Din chuckled.

“Hey, Samo,” he said.

Samo let loose an ear-piercing scream behind her buir’s hand and ducked under Sotra’s legs. She ran at Din like there was a bomb behind her. Din caught her and swung her up to perch on his arm and she kicked relentless at his tassets in excitement.

“Shhh,” Din said. “People are sleeping—”

“YOU’RE THE MAND’ALOR. YOU’RE THE MAND’ALOR. YOU’RE THE—”

Doors started opening all down the line of barracks. A few curious, hazy, and lopsided helmets poked out from some of them, and from others, calls of ‘EYYYYYYY’ and chats ‘ALL HAIL THE MAND’ALOR’ started up, to Din’s immediate mortification.

This, Boba was delighted to realize, was not a cry of honor.

These half-asleep fuckers had been waiting months to embarrass Din. And he’d known that this would happen.

“Be quiet,” Din snapped all around him. “The elders are sleeping, you’re going to—”

“Well, well, well, look who’s finally home,” a taunting voice rang out on top of the rush. “If it isn’t the Mand’alor himself.”

“Paz,” Din sighed. “Not now.”

“When could there possibly be a better time, your liege?” a huge Mandalorian wearing full blue armor despite the early hour drawled from the doorway he’d attempted to casually lean in. Samo’s braids flew as her round cheeks snapped his way.

“Paz, don’t be mean,” she told him from atop Din’s arm. “Or it’ll be to the goats with ya.”

“Fuck me, the goats, what ever will I do?” Paz scoffed.

“BUIR, PAZ SAID A BAD WORD.”

“I heard him,” Sotra said scathingly, right at Paz’s visor.

“To the goats,” Paz’s neighbor hissed at him.

The hissing was taken up just as quickly as the earlier ‘all hails’ had been. Paz told everyone to shut up and mind their own asses. He was publicly booed until Eegang emerged from the loft room with Karren stuffed under an arm and demanded to know why people were congregating in the halls. He reminded everyone that that shit was a fire hazard, and in doing so, his tone changed completely from easy-going to Commanding Officer and the effect was immediate.

People scurried back into their rooms like frightened mice until there wasn’t a single open door left in the whole line.

Eegang huffed and traded Karren to Din for his daughter. Samo happily climbed onto his shoulders and held onto his chin. Karren grinned mischievously up at her, winked, and then thumbed back to the goat loft.

“Not the welcome you deserved, but the one you got. I’m afraid nothing has changed here,” Eegang told Din compassionately, wrapping his fingers around Samo’s ankles. “I see you brought friends.”

“And foe,” Din said, gesturing at Bojzka who beamed.

Eegang’s visor contained a grimace that would otherwise have wracked his whole body.

“You got in,” he deadpanned.

“Sure did,” Bojzka said. “Lovely place you have here.”

And honestly? Yeah. It sort of was. Maybe a little ramshackle, what with all the scaffolding and haphazard support beams thrown into the walls to keep the wet earth above ground from crushing everyone below it, but for all the unsteadiness, it was oozing with comradery. Family.

Behind each of those doors was a little unit like Eegang and Sotra’s or perhaps a tired body, barely extracted from its boots, taking comfort in this honeycomb of tunnels and rooms.

Boba couldn’t help but wonder how he and Dad would have done in a place like this.

“We try,” Eegang said flatly. “I’ll let the Armorer deal with you herself—if she’s awake, I mean. Otherwise, you’re condemned to Shimmol. I’m going back to sleep. Vok is waiting for you, keep going straight through the kitchens, Din.”

“Thank you,” Din said. “Sleep well, Vod.”

“Yeah, yeah. Come on, Monster. No goats for now.”

Samo waved at Boba and Fennec with a smile as bright as the sun. She ducked expertly as Eegang passed through the doorway to their quarters. He closed the door behind them.

------

“You don’t see families like that much anymore,” Bojzka hummed as Din led their troop down the hallways, through a series of ladders into a kitchen and then from there into a surprisingly neat, up-to-date hangar with concrete floorings. Six crafts were parked inside, tucked into the tight space like fish in a barrel.

“We have a few,” Din said. “I don’t know how many people are living here now, though.”

Given the size of the place? Maybe fifty or so, if Boba had to take a guess. There had been several sets of boots lining the wall outside the barrack doors.

Din picked his way through the crafts to two tarps covered in piles of spare, rusting, and grease-covered parts. At the end of the aisle between the tarps was a rectangle bordered by wooden benches and to the left of that was a little box that a mechanic presumably operated from. The box, however, had no windows. Its door was slightly ajar.

Din knocked and a snort and a slurp answered him.

“Jus’ a mo,” a thick voice said inside.

Fennec looked at Boba with intrigue.

“Tool gnome,” she said.

No, friend. Just a grease-monkey.

“Tool gnome,” Fennec insisted.

The door opened and a man at least six feet, two inches peered out of it.

“Tool giant,” Fennec amended in a whisper.

“Is that you, Din?” the mechanic asked. His helmet was rusty red and gray. Its visor had a yellow tint to it.

“It is,” Din said. “It’s been a while, Vok. These are my—”

“Forget them. Goran told me what you did to Razor.”

Din cringed.

“I—”

“AH. No. I don’t wanna hear it,” Vok said. “I just—I’m glad you’re safe, but you ain’t touching any more of my children, you hear me, boy?”

Din sunk into his shoulders in shame.

“I hear you,” he said.

“You’re damn right you do,” Vok said. “Man, I had a whole speech written out and shit, and here you are, early as the fuckin’ dawn. Did you miss Paz?”

“We did not,” Din said.

“I tried to have him do an inventory, I did,” Vok said sympathetically. “But he wasn’t havin’ it. Took an IOU and everything.”

Din sighed.

“Thanks for trying,” he said. “Is the forge...?”

“That way,” Vok said, gesturing to the far end of the hangar, where a series of scaffolding led up to a dark hole in the wall. “Mind your step. Stairs are next on my list. Who’re your friends?”

Din introduced them. Vok considered Fennec and after a moment of thought, saluted her. She tipped her jaw to the side and gave him a once-over.

“Din’s got my number if you’re not busy,” Vok said.

“I’ll take it under advisement,” Fennec said.

“I hope you do, my darlin’. You? Boj-whatever? I heard about you. You can go fuck yourself.”

“Thanks, Vok, we’re going now,” Din intervened.

----------

Fennec said nothing on the way up the scaffolding. She didn’t need to. Boba applauded her.

---------

The forge was the least finished part of the covert, and Boba could respect the Armorer’s dedication to looking after the flock before her own needs. Not that the forge wasn’t a comfortable place. Upon entry, Bojzka whistled at all the equipment inside. There were steel beams crossing in hatches along the ceiling. It appeared as though someone was working on a ventilation mechanism up there. Ropes and pipes hung down from the beams as though a pulley system had been recently removed.

The forge itself was a huge circular structure with a high wall around its exterior. It was built of a slick-looking black material. There were three water troughs set up in a line behind it and two rudimentary wood blocks with anvils set on them. Benches littered with iron tools sat next to the anvils.

Din appeared very at home in this place, despite not having even been in it. He wove around the accoutrements of the room towards a wooden door that had been placed on hinges on the far side like an afterthought.

He knocked.

“We don’ want any,” a sleepy woman’s voice drawled.

Boba jumped as a something brushed his elbow and discovered that Karren had followed them all the way down to the forge. His soft boots had hidden his footsteps, but, like Din, he was now in a place that he knew like the back of his hand. Din grabbed the scruff of his neck as he went for the door with both hands.

“You’re supposed to be in the nursery,” Din told him. “Shoo.”

“Shimmol, Din’s home,” Karren said through the door. “Goran, Din’s home.”

Very cute. Karren wanted to be the one to shared the news. Din pulled him back as shuffling started up on the other side of the wooden door.

It opened to reveal a fluorescent pink helmet with floral patterns painted down the edges in white.

“Din?” the young woman, who could only be Shimmol, asked.

Din’s brain stuttered.

“Uh?” he said.

Shimmol’s flightsuit was once white, but it was burned and smudged to gray all over. Her heavy gloves were half-burnt on both hands, too. She surged forward into Din’s chestplate. Din hugged her back awkwardly.

“Hello, sister,” he said. “This is, uh.”

“Do you like it?” Shimmol asked, pulling away from him to touch the edges of her helmet. “I thought it was cute. Wait til you see the pauldrons. They match.”

“They’re hideous,” Karren said.

“Did anyone ask you?” Shimmol flung at him. “No, I didn’t think so. Get gone, womp-rat.”

Wow. No wonder Karren was desperate for Din’s attention.

“I’m not a womp-rat,” Karren said. “I’m a Tooka. Goran said so.”

“You know, what you actually are is a ‘nuisance,’ so it doesn’t matter what—”

“Children.”

And lo and behold. The lady herself. Gold helmet and everything.

“Din,” the Armorer said, placing a hand on Shimmol’s side to move her. “Welcome home.”

Din accepted the helmet touch with grace.

“Bojzka,” the Armorer said next. “I didn’t expect to see you in my home so soon, or at all.”

Bojzka beamed.

“You’ve grown a beard,” the Armorer noted. “It does not become you.”

Boba coughed into his elbow to hide the bark of laughter screaming to escape his throat. Fennec thumped at his back.

“Let’s move somewhere with more light,” the Armorer said. “Karren, Shimmol. You’re dismissed for the next hour. Go eat breakfast.”

“But—” Shimmol started.

“Up, up, up,” Karren chanted, getting behind her and shoving hands into the small of her back. “It’s people-time.”

“Leave it. I hate people-time,” Shimmol said. “I thrive on darkness. It sustains me better than food.”

Din looked desperately into the Armorer’s helmet. The Armorer ignored him and told Shimmol that she knew this to false and to stop whining. Upstairs, now.

The kids relented and left the forge. Din pointed after them.

“I know,” the Armorer said. “Let her work through it.”

Din pointed even more insistently.

“No, no. It’s true,” Bojzka said. “Mine went through the same thing.”

--------

The Armorer sat them all down at a ‘u’ shape of benches on the far side of the forge. She turned on some overhead lights. They lit up the forge and threw its equipment’s shadows harshly against the floor.

“Thank you for coming,” she said lightly. “It takes a long time to get to Zeffo, even in the Outer Rim.”

“It suits you,” Bojzka flirted.

“It does not,” the Armorer countered unrepentantly. “And your flattery remains aggravating.”

Bojzka didn’t seem to process the meaning behind those words, too busy he was with basking in the Armorer’s presence. She ignored him to turn to Din.

“Eegang tells me that you have been aggressive towards Bojzka, ad’ika, is this true?”

Din hunkered down into his shoulders. He didn’t want to answer. The Armorer didn’t make him.

“This is unnecessary,” she said. “Bojzka does not bother me.”

Bojzka rounded a gloating grin at Din.

“He is delusional, but I’m afraid that head trauma does this over time,” the Armorer said lightly. “There is no need to defend my honor—I’ve already had this conversation with Eegang, so know that it is not only you who I’ve spoken to about this. And Bojzka.”

“Yes, dear?” Bojzka hummed.

“I would appreciate it if you ceased in antagonizing my foundling and second.”

“I’m not trying to, Nomri.”

“I know,” the Armorer said. “And that is where I believe this tension arises from. Din, you and your advisor may leave. I’ll handle this. In future, know that it is not your place to speak on these matters in my stead, yes?”

“Yes, Goran,” Din mumbled.

The Armorer waited.

“Buir,” Din corrected.

“Thank you. The last thing I need is the Mand’alor becoming invested in old-standing relationships. You may go.”

Din stood and Boba and Fennec stood with him.

“He is not Naseem,” Din said right at the doorway.

The Armorer’s helmet turned slowly his way.

“No one will ever be Naseem,” she said. “It’s okay. Go.”

-----------

Boba need the full story on this Naseem guy approximately yesterday, but all he had at his disposal in the kitchens where he, Din, and Fennec had been banished was a collection of foundlings all staring up at their party looking guilty as hell.

In the midst of their group was a ten-year-old holding a glass jug absolutely brimming with frogs.

Boba had never seen this many foundlings together at once before, and he had to say: these traditionalists knew exactly what they were doing. There was nothing quite like a whole mass of youths to shift the mood.

The kids made a break for it.

Fennec was the fastest of all of them, but even she was not as fast as the bodies that popped their heads out of the rattling back room and launched themselves without warning over the few rows of tables set out in the main space.

Din’s covert collectively looked after the little ones, he explained when one of these bodies returned with the wrist of a shrieking Twi’lek child in their grip. The shrieking cut off when the nurse dropped down into a crouch and flattened both of the child’s hands against their helmet so that they left splotchy prints behind.

Two of the folks who filed back into the room covered in mud did not wear helmets. Din didn’t recognize them until they spoke and said their names. They’d removed their helmets back on Nevarro, apparently, and they had not to put them back on. Now, they wore veils and headscarves—neither of them comfortable with their whole heads and faces on display.

One of these was a woman named Madda. She saw Din’s helmet and froze by one of the long tables.

“Din, I’m so glad you returned,” she said with hitching breath. And then she took her newly-acquired jug of frogs and went tearing back down the hallway towards the covert’s main entrance. Din watched after her, confused.

“Is the transition difficult?” he asked one of the other Mandalorians next to him.

Their helmet showed zero emotion, and yet Boba gleaned from it everything he needed to know. He put a palm on his forehead.

“Djarin, come here,” he said.

-------------

Din chased after Madda to apologize for fucking up what was probably a years-long infatuation at this point. Fennec watched after him with a sly grin. But the Mandalorian with the flat helmet turned to Boba with far more open shoulders.

“You got through to him like that,” she said, snapping her fingers.

“It’s his secret talent,” Fennec told her.

“What was your name?” the Mandalorian asked.

“Boba Fett,” Boba said. “And yours?”

“Jhuvac.”

“Nice to meet you,” Boba said politely.

“Aren’t you the clone-guy?”

Welp.

“I prefer ‘Fett,’” Boba said.

“Nah, I feel that,” Jhuvac said, tossing her scarf over her shoulder. “Paz calls you the ‘clone-guy’ is all. That shit’s wild, by the way. But you can’t help your dad’s decision now can you?”

What was this? Understanding? From a traditionalist? Kryze would lose her shit.

“I can’t, although everything after that was totally me,” Boba said.

Jhuvac glanced back at him.

“Including the Solo stuff?” she asked.

Boba lifted a brow.

“Is there something you would like to know?” he asked.

“No,” Jhuvac said. “I know everything I need to. But you know what’ll make Vok’s life miserable?”

---------

The mechanic was a huge fan of Han Solo, and he had a list of reasons why Boba should cease hunting the man about as long as one of his lanky arms. He listed them out one by one in his hangar full of metal scrap. Jhuvac was very correct when she said that the mere mention of Solo meeting his maker would cause Vok immense misery. Boba could see how it could be entertaining.

Fennec made it even more entertaining by poking holes in each of Vok’s carefully laid out arguments.

He kept asking her why she was hurting him like this. Was this a domination kink?

Fennec asked him if he wanted it to be.

Vok walked it all back and told her to do her worst.

Jhuvac decided that she suddenly had other things to do and invited Boba to accompany her on these things. Boba assented and left Fennec to her business.

----------

In the end, Boba found himself outside in a group huddle with a handful of covert people, two with no helmets, watching the feud between the foundlings and the local wildlife. The covert, he learned, broadly did not like Zeffo. They hated how wet it was. They hated how cold it was. 90% of them had grown up in desert climates, the remaining 10% in ice climates.

Zeffo, as far as they were concerned, was a backwater hellhole that they’d had little choice in selecting.

“It was this or breaking up and forming two coverts,” Sotra explained, removing Mesa’s captured snail from his face area for the third time. She gave the snail to the guy next to her who got up and took it down to the edge of the nearby river. He stooped to set it in the grass, then froze in shock when a fish’s wide mouth erupted from the water and encapsulated his whole glove.

It left the glove wet and empty.

“But you didn’t want to do that?” Boba asked.

“No, if we separated, it would be Eegang at the head of the new covert,” Sotra said. “And that’s just not in the cards for us right now.”

Gotcha.

“The children didn’t want to be separated either,” one of the Mandalorians with no helmet said. “Goran gave them the option, but things were frantic, you know. They cling to each other when they’re young like this.”

More than understandably, in Boba’s humble and correct opinion.

“What do you all think of Bojzka?” Boba asked them.

“Who?”

“The bull with no helmet? Beard?” someone said.

“The one trying to court the Armorer?” Sotra asked.

Everyone clambered back onto the same page in the face of this descriptor.

“He’s supposed to be some kind of hero,” Jhuvac said. “But I dunno, man. He seems a little, uh.”

“Goran’s too good for him,” Sotra interjected simply. “Imagine stooping so low after a life of respect and service.”

“He’s not ugly,” the Mandalorian who’d lost the snail pointed out. “I’d bang him.”

“You’re not a good bar, Ban.”

“I could be.”

“You’re the lowest bar, Ban.”

“Can’t be disappointed if your expectations on the floor.”

“Go bang him for Goran then,” Jhuvac said. “I can’t tell if she thinks he’s kinda cute or if she wants to stab him in the heart.”

“For the good of the covert, I will endure this hardship,” Ban said.

He was unceremoniously yanked back down when he started to stand.

“Din mentioned some guy named ‘Naseem?’” Boba asked.

The name alone sent the group into titters.

“Naseem was so nice.”

“Naseem was great, you have no idea. So respectful.”

“He wanted to take Din on so bad, it was almost heartbreaking. He and Goran were perfect for each other. He was so happy around her; I don’t think he ever talked in front of anyone else.”

“God, when he died, I cried so hard. I cried for days.”

“Same.”

“Kind of a tough reputation to beat, then?” Boba asked.

“Oh definitely,” Jhuvac said. “I mean, there was Hajka after him, but she was just so explosive. Like, she made Goran laugh a lot, I remember that, but she was kinda awkward, too. There was a battle on her home planet and she left everyone here to defend what was left of her people.”

“Goran collects the awkward ones, they’re her favorite,” Sotra said.

“You can’t judge her, you collect Eegangs,” Ban pointed out.

“There is only one Eegang.”

“Girl, we know.”

There was a pause while Sotra handed off her child so that she could beat the shit out of Ban on the lumpy grass. Jhuvac handed Mesa over Boba’s lap to the quiet person at his right. They took the baby without question and laid him on their chest.

“Where did you grow up, Boba?” Jhuvac asked. “Sorry, Fett. Do you like Fett?”

Boba was taken aback. It had been ages since someone had called him by his first name—and a Mandalorian no less.

“Boba is fine. I grew up on Kamino,” he said.

“With a covert?”

No, no covert. No anyone, really. Boba was what people in white coats tended to call ‘under-socialized.’

“That’s sad,” Jhuvac said. “It must have been lonely.”

It was, actually. Especially after Dad had died.

“That’s so sad, I’m gonna cry,” Ban said. “Join our covert.”

All helmets and eyes rounded on Boba and he felt like his collar was suddenly digging into his neck. He shook his head.

“I’m not really a Mandalorian,” he said. “It’s not right—”

“Bullshit.”

“Fuckin’ hell, Jhuvac, let ‘im talk.”

“No, that’s bullshit. Listen, Din has ‘don’t trust people’ syndrome. If he trusts you enough to bring you with him here, then you’re Mandalorian enough for us,” Jhuvac said. “And anyways, being a Mandalorian is about what you do, not who you are. It doesn’t matter if you’re clone-guy so long as you follow the Creed in a more or less northernly direction.”

Boba stared at her and realized that everyone was staring at him again. He cleared his throat but found that he didn’t have any words trapped back there like he’d thought.

“Or easternly,” Ban offered to break the awkwardness.

There were still no words on Boba’s tongue. He struggled to say at least something.

“I—th—that’s kind of you,” he eventually managed. “I don’t think I could cut it here, but that’s really kind of you.”

The Mandalorians exchanged looks and shrugs.

“Know that the offer stands if you feel any pull towards it later,” Sotra said. “We have a number of reformed who converted and who move in and out of our covert. Not recently, but when we were children, there were more. Goran, too, was once a reformed Mandalorian.”

“My buir, too,” Jhuvac added.

“My ba-buir was reformed,” Ban said. “But she might have caused a public riot. Or two. Or three.”

“Speaking of which,” Sotra said. “Elder Fayrz has emerged from his cave.”

“I’ll get him,” Jhuvac sighed.

Boba frowned and looked from them out to the hill the foundlings had selected to gossip on. A Mandalorian in black and white with a green cape was, indeed, now kneeling among them. Every face was turned towards him in wonder.

“I’ve heard of this guy. He looks fun,” he noted.

At least one hand from every body came up to clutch at their face.

“That’s exactly the problem,” Ban said.

------

Din rejoined Boba in the midst of Elder Fayrz’s attempt to recruit him into the covert. He somehow knew Dad. That in itself was a little disarming. At first, Boba hadn’t believe that the elder was speaking the truth, but then he started up with alarmingly specific training corp numbers and mentioned off-handedly that he used to work in the corps, training kids from six to fourteen.

It made sense now why, in old age, he was considered the most dangerous person in the covert to have around the foundlings.

Grandpa was a serial spoil-er and mischief-instigator. The children saw in him everything they wanted out of life and were loathe to be separated from their most favorite old man.

Din got between him and Boba and informed the Elder that he’d just gotten married.

The Elder’s attentions went rocketing in the opposite direction. He wanted pictures, he wanted to know all about the reception, he wanted to know why Din hadn’t brought his partner home with him, what color their armor was, where they were presently based—the whole barrel of spotchka.

Boba appreciated the save.

He also appreciated the moment when the Elder fully realized that Din had, in fact, married a real jedi.

“YOU STUPID BOY.”

There it was.

The children bustled and whispered.

“This is what happens when we do not teach them to read—where is your buir? I told her, I told her that you needed more lessons. Always with the dogs, I knew it would have some effect—”

Din couldn’t even argue. He and Kryze had been over the very same deficit about sixty times. If they were lucky, Bo-Katan gave him a day or two off in between scoldings.

While the old man was outraged, Din signaled to Boba that they would be leaving soon.

--------

Bojzka joined Boba, Din, and Fennec at the ramp of their ship about ten minutes late. The Armorer personally showed him out of the covert and told him to return only if the galaxy began to collapse in on itself. She was at least cordial about it, which, in hindsight, was probably why Bojzka was having a hard time reading the glaring ‘please desist’ sign flickering over her head.

“Be safe,” she told Din while Karren made sad sounds behind her.

“Will do,” Din said. “Next time, I’ll see if Luke will come.”

“We would like to have him,” the Armorer said.

She dipped her helmet to Boba and Fennec and they returned the gesture.

“I hope you were well-received by the others,” she said. “Bojzka, good bye.”

“Talk to you later,” Bojzka hummed.

“We shall not,” the Armorer said.

---------

Back in the Dune Sea, Kryze was waiting in one of the conference rooms. Din avoided her and all her probing questions. Boba did not. He was in a sharing sort of mood and Fennec had a ‘thanks for the lay’ message to compose to Mr. Vok.

Kryze crossed her legs and gestured for him to join her at the table.

He did and crossed his legs right back.

“So?” she asked.

“Shocking peaceful,” Boba said. “Violent mostly towards their own members. Tried to recruit me at least three times.”

Kryze’s eyebrows did a little dance.

“Surprising,” she said.

“Not very,” Boba corrected. “Din is one of the more reserved members. He resembles his buir more than I expected.”

“And Bojzka?” Kryze asked.

“Soundly rejected, but somehow optimistic about it,” Boba said. “The good news is that Din’s been forbidden from trying to kill him.”

“That is good news,” Kryze agreed.

There was a long pause.

“Are you thinking about it? Joining, I mean?” Kryze asked.

“No,” Boba said, “But it is nice to occasionally be around Mandalorians who don’t have sticks up their asses.”

“Unicorns,” Kryze said.

“A whole covert of them,” Boba told her with a smirk. “Maybe it’s not them. Maybe it’s you all.”

“I beg to differ,” Kryze said. “If the issue is resolved, then I suppose we’ll have to move back on to official business.”

That was no fun.

“Why is Fennec so smug?”

Oh, that was more fun. Sit back down, Lady. This is going to be a bawdy one.

#the mandalorian #the armorer #din djarin #boba fett #dinluke #ficlet #don't mind me I just need answers #and in their absence I make them myself

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multifandomhoodies · 4 years ago

Text

Finnpoe Rec List!

There’s some really fantastic Finnpoe fics out there and I’ve been setting aside fics from my bookmarks for this for a while! These are just some of my faves, so enjoy!!

Canon/Canon Adjacent (not AUs outside general Star Wars universe)

“how to become the spark” by sassy_ninja (G - 49.7k

Poe Dameron, commander of the Resistance fleet, best pilot in the galaxy, hotshot trigger-happy flyboy, he's all of these things plus a little bit more. This is the story Poe Dameron, shy farmboy, doting son, idiot gay, soldier who tries his best not to be broken by the war roaring around him and most of all just a human in a galaxy which doesn't care about things like love, friendship and fear. This is how he breaks and how he begins to heal again and how he starts to learn what it means to be alive. Or Poe Dameron's life from his childhood to the end of the war.

“bathed in blue light” by delgay (M - 17.4k)

When Finn turns to his right, Poe stands beside him, looking up at Finn and giving him what might be a smirk if he weren’t too busy smiling. It’s that same smile that’s made home on his face ever since Finn said, “I’d like to see Yavin IV. If I’d be welcome.” Poe had blinked fast, but the smile came slow. “Buddy,” he’d replied, “I’m offended that you even had to ask.”

A year after the Battle of Exegol, Finn and Poe visit Yavin IV. While there, Finn struggles with the Force and his complicated relationship with Poe.

“we slept with our backs against the weather” by bogpersons (T - 8.4k)

Poe’s breaths come in stops and starts, and wheezes on the inhale and exhale. He sounds like a dying man. Finn lifts Poe’s hand to his lips, presses it there, squeezes his eye shut. Something harsh and painful swells in his chest, finds a place under his heart and pushes and pushes and pushes until Finn can barely breathe with it. You are a Human Person. Finn and Poe crash on a jungle planet. Finn struggles with himself.

“We Stan A Healthy Family Dynamic (The Kes Verse)” by AphroditesTummyRolls SERIES (Not rated, 161.7k)

Get in losers, we're giving the Star Wars Sequel cast the story they deserved-- Particularly Poe and Finn.

[Set after the events of TFA, rewrites of TLJ and neat little bits in-between. Poe deals with the aftermath Kylo Ren’s interrogation, dealing with regret and trauma, with the help of his friends and dad through a rewrite of TLJ.]

“your love will be safe with me” by incalyscent (T - 8.6k)

when finn stripped away the violence from himself, what did he have left? it was love; love; love.

“i’m yours (and suddenly you’re mine) by spacepilotprince (E - 4.3k)

Finn snorts against Poe's stomach, and it forces a ticklish laugh out of him. “Laying it on a little thick tonight, aren't you?” Finn asks as he looks up at Poe, and finds that grin he heard in his voice.

“Not the only thing that's thick,” Poe says with a smirk, glancing down between them towards Finn's cock.

“Oh, shut up,” Finn laughs, surging up to kiss him, muffling Poe's laughter. Poe runs his hands over Finn's shoulders and tips his head aside, sending Finn's mouth down his jaw and neck.

“Contact” by earthmylikeness (M - 9.9k)

Because what could Finn do but live through it? Live in the remains of his own shipwrecked mind, his badly-crossed wires. Imagine Poe’s perpetually bitten mouth on him - his wide, calloused hands on his bare chest, pulling him down and down whenever he so much as closes his eyes.

Finn has a delayed reaction to surviving the crash.

“Best Laid Efforts” by cosmicocean (T - 3.7k) @cosmicoceanfic

In which Jessika and Temmin do their best, aren't even subtle about it, and Poe and Finn are still morons.

“Ad Pacem” by SteveTrevorsStarship (T - 1.5k)

Finn knows war and rebellion so far. He doesn’t know peace. (Yet.)

“First Comes the Night” by coffeeinallcaps (E - 20.1k)

He doesn’t get nightmares. He doesn’t dream about the mask, the cries of the villagers, waking up in the desert with a blinding headache and his mouth filled with blood and the man who’d saved him gone, most likely dead. Instead, he just can’t sleep.

“have you heard” by peradi (Not rated, 42.1k)

"I heard FN-2187 was a Stormtrooper."

Finn sparks a revolution.

“Doubt” by Cadoan (T - 1.4k)

After the battle of Crait, something has changed in Poe. Poe can't sleep, and Finn goes to find him.

“Neither Here Nor There” by d8rkmessengr (T - 7.8k)

Sometimes, it felt like he wasn't really here. Sometimes, it felt like it wasn't really over. And the one person who tethered him left to finally tell Rey something. Post The Rise of Skywalker.

“How to Be a Finn” by Ayashiki (G - 111k)

In a hindsight, all of it - the stolen childhood, the crash on Jakku, Han Solo's death, even the lightsaber to the back - was easier than living in this world of invisible social clues and inside jokes, the whirlwind of this ragtag family that defied any logic, the caring, the compassion, the love. And all the while people tell him: Finn, you are so brave! Finn, you are so strong! Finn, you are so kind! Finn, thank you for saving my life! And FN-2187 looks to the stars and desperately tries to find this "Finn" everyone seems to know in himself.

“On the Other Side” by StarMaple (T - 27.2k)

Finn discovers the differences first hand between the First Order and the Resistance and establishes a space for himself on D'Qar.

“we are all stardust” by synergenic (Losseflame) (Not rated, 15.3k)

Finn wakes up. He wakes up slow, the rising tide of consciousness making him aware, firstly, of how stale his mouth tastes. Then it's the general stiffness of his body, the foreign feeling of a pillow beneath his head, the softness of the clothes he's wearing. Finn doesn't think he's ever worn clothes so soft.

“No Sleep till Brooklyn” by TheCarrot (T first chapter, second chapter E, - 10.4k)

Poe is exhausted. And not just because he hasn’t slept for more than three hours at a time in Force knows how long. Moreover it’s the 39 flights he’s run in the last 22 days and the fact Pava had gotten deathlike sick eight days ago and then they had fallen behind on a few supply runs and an emergency evacuations of some of their pathfinders and then there had been a last minute scramble to one of their allies in the mid rim with far too many TIEs to be comfortable and then- well, Poe just wants to fall over onto the floor and stay there.

AUs

“Time of the Underdog” by beeeawolf, SERIES. (G & T, 56k)

Modern times AU, Poe is a former Navy pilot who was discharged after a crash and being a POW. Finn is a university student who manages to catch Poe’s run away dog, BB-8, who’s literally everything to him.

“We Didn’t Start the Fire” by MayGlenn and cognomen (E - 10.7k)

There’s a calm that claims them all when they’re working and it’s going the way it’s supposed to; the low-level hum of concentration and focus and adrenaline that keeps them on edge without panic. The crew deploys from Idaho, a home base that they see perhaps 3 weeks out of the entire 26 week fire season, interspersed with time in camps and housing all over the country. This week, it’s California—sunny, liberal, beach lined, and on fire.

Finn's a Hotshot firefighter; Poe's the team Helitack operator. They're headed to California to fight a fire in San Jacinto; dangerous country.

“It’s Not Goodbye” by mssrj_335 (T - 25.9k)

Finn is an ex-soldier on a solo motorcycle trip across America. Poe is the mechanic in a small desert town. Poe wants to keep his secrets and Finn is running from something--or toward it--and the part for his bike is going to take at least a week to come in. What starts as a quick stop and awkward flirt devolves into a conspiratorial intrigue of a very personal nature. Lights in the desert, headaches and vague memories all point Finn to something that has Poe tied in knots. He just has no idea how far that something will take him.

“A Possibility (A Promise)” by sapphistication (T - 5.9k)

Poe, Prince of Yavin, is briefly reunited with the Resistance Fighters lead by General Leia Organa. After three years apart, he quickly finds that his affections for Finn are of a different nature than he remembers. Despite the war they find themselves in, they share a few moments of peace by the fire, filled with soft words and meaningful smiles. Time works against them, but Poe seeks a possibility and makes a promise.

222 notes · View notes

winchesterxxi · 4 years ago

Note

Maybe Poe and Skywalker reader being married to each other. Their life together, struggles and everything in between

(force awakens to rise of Skywalker)

WARNINGS: Non-canon content for the sake of the request; Focuses more on the Reader x Poe relationship, so many plot points are left untouched (as in, Reader doesn’t know Kylo is her brother)

THE FORCE AWAKENS

You were stationed in Jakku with your dad and Chewie when a girl and a guy board onto the ship;

“Who the hell are you?” you ask, you and your dad with blasters pointed out to them.

They throw they’re hands up and from behind them rolls out BB8 and you immediately drop to your knees.

“BB! Oh my God, where is Poe? We lost his TIE signal two hours ago, we’ve been worried sick!”

“You know Poe Dameron?” Finn asks you, lowering his hands.

“I’m Y/N Skywalker, his wife.” you eye him, only now noticing he is wearing your husband’s jacket “W-Where is my husband?”

That’s when he gives you the news of the crash and you latch onto your dad, crying.

Days later, on Takodana you are under an attack by the First Order and just as you thought there was no hope left, a fleet of X-Wings come in and save you.

After the fleet landed, you went to meet you mom, knowing that she was the Commander behind this offence against the First Order.

“It’s not me you have to thank honey.”

“What do you mean?”

“Your husband’s the one behind it this time.”

“My...?”

She just nods your head and cups your cheek, stroking your teary eyes, knowing how you’ve been grieving, thinking that Poe had died

“Go find your husband.”

You run past her and your dad to the the landing site trying to spot Poe in the crowd, heart beating hard in your chest

“POE?” “POE!?” you scream is name, trying to find him.

Then

“Y/N?” you stop in your tracks and turn around, spotting your husband.

Your run to him faster than you’ve ever ran until you crash into him in a tight hug, crying.

“I thought you - I thought you had -” you sniff between the tears.

He cups the sides of your face “I know, but I’m here, honey. I’m sorry to worry you. You’d never get rid of me so easily!” He smiles into the crashing kiss.

He helps you blast the FO’s base's thermal oscillator after you witness Kylo killing your father, tears stinging your eyes as you charge ahead.

Afterwards, him being your shoulder to cry on as you mourn your loss.

THE LAST JEDI

Flying alongside him on the dreadnought attack;

“Y/N, FIRE NOW!”

You do as you’re instructed, your shot igniting the explosives that had been set inside the dreadnought making it light up like the 4th of July

“THAT’S MY GIRL!” he shouts over the intercom

When back at the ship, reunited with your mother, you’re the one that spots the Star Destroyer in the radar grabbing Finn’s forearm, alerting him to the map.

“We need to jump to lightspeed!” he states running to your mom, awaiting clearance to do so, hot-headed as always.

“Poe, we can’t do that! We only have enough resources for one jump and if we do so, they’ll just track us again and be without fuel.”

You eye your mother, looking for some help.

“Permission to jump on an X-Wing and blow something up?” he addresses your mom.

“Poe w-” you start

“Permission granted!” your mom agrees as Poe darts running

“MOM!”

“Go get on one as well.” she comes forward and kisses your forehead “You’re a team now.”

Just as you and Poe are about to reach the X-Wings, him slightly ahead of you the FO manages to blast the platform, sending him flying against you as you both crash to the ground.

He his also next to you when you spot your mother floating in space after the attack and he grips your hand tightly.

You insist on pushing her to the medical wing but he stops you before you can do it

“Poe, I need to be with my mom please.” you grip his arms, sobbing.

He kisses your forehead

“I’ll go with her, you stay here please.” you nod, teary eyed at him “Finn, take care of her for me while I’m gone”

*FASTFORWARD TO HOLDO’S EVACUATION PLAN*

You believe her plan won’t work either so you lead the mutiny alongside your husband

That is until he is stunned against the wall.

You throw yourself on your knees beside him, cradling his head.

Turning back you spot your mom, alive, holding the blaster

“MOM? WHAT THE HELL?”

“I know you love your husband but for once, just drag his ass out.”

You are holding his hand when he springs back to life.

“What - What happened?” he is shaken

“Poe I-”

He pushes past you running to the nearest window

“NO!” he slams on the glass and you come up behind him hand on his shoulder

“Honey,...” he shrugs his shoulder off, facing you, hurt tainting his face.

“Don’t... Call me that.”

“Poe...”

“No! I thought we were in this together!”

“This plan is gonna work, you have to trust me!”

“How can you ask me that after what you just did.”

First serious married fight... yay.

You look at him, biting your lip, tears in your eyes before walking away.

“Poe.” he turns around and finds your mom, calling him and that’s when she shows him Crait and explains him the full and he realizes he was just an asshole to the person he loved the most.

“Oh my god, I’m such an idiot.”

“Yes you are. Now go apologize to my daughter.”

“Yes ma’am.”

*Cue romantic, cute and awkward apology scene*

When the time comes to face the First Order he boards on a speeder and you on your father’s Falcon alongside Chewie

And of course you then help him lead your people out of the cave

THE RISE OF SKYWALKER

So...you’re kind of the captain of the Falcon

Despite Poe being an undeniably better pilot than you, he insisted that you were the rightful captain of the ship now that your dad was gone.

And he loved to call you captain

It made you smile every single time

Fastforward to Kijimi when Poe has a blaster pointed to his head

You are quick to point your own to the armored woman behind him

“Blaster off him, now.”

“She won’t ask twice, I would listen to her”

“Who are you?” you ask, blaster still up as she hadn’t let hers down

“Honey, this is Zorii. Zorii, this is my wife, Y/N”

Her helmet turns to you “Wife? There are actually people out there who go along with what you say.”

“Oh, you’d be surprised.” he retorts and you snap a look at him

“I could pull this trigger right now.” She says, pushing the blaster harder against Poe’s head.

“You do that, my blaster is the last thing you’ll see in this life.”

“We’re trying to find Babu Frik.” Poe tries to ease the situation

“He only works with the crew. That’s not you anymore.”

“What does she mean crew?” you ask him

“Oh your wife doesn’t know?”

you look between her and him confused

“Funny he never mentioned it...”

“Married people are still allowed secrets Zorii - “ he tries

“Your husband was a spice runner.”

Your eyes almost pop out of your eye sockets

“You were a spice runner? In almost 5 years of marriage NOT ONCE did it occur to you to mention that!?”

Once again, next to him when one of the stormtroopers blasts him in the arm inside the Star Destroyer

“POE!”

Standing in line next him, Chewie and Finn

“Were you ever going to tell me you were a spice runner?”

“You’re still on that?”

“OH I’M SORRY, IS THIS A BAD TIME?”

“IT KIND OF IS, YEAH!”

“Well, because later doesn’t really seem like an option right now -”

“You don’t say -”

“And if my husband has some other important life information before meeting me that I should be aware of, I would like to know becasue for all i know, you could’ve even been a stormtr--”

BAM

Troopers dead, you all alive

Hux admits to being the spy

“I KNEW IT” he points out

“No, you didn’t.”

While on one of the Endor’s moon your mom uses her last breath to reach out to you trough the Force

You are a few feet behind Poe on the grass and fall to your knees with a thud

He looks over at you, face dropping as he runs in your direction

Your face is white and your look is blank and he is trying to shake your shoulders to gain some attention from you

“My mom...” You look up at him and he immediately understands, gulping hardly. He doesn’t say a word, simply pulling you into a crushing hug as you scream into the ground, tears running down.

Later, back at the resistance base, after you’ve said your goodbyes to your mom, Poe is the one sitting next to her linen-covered body

“I... I promise I’ll take care of her. Not just now, or in the near future, just... forever. I’ll stay by her side, always, Leia. Your daughter... Your daughter is the love of my life.”

After you defeat the First Order, during the celebrations Poe pulls you aside to a quiet place and tells you that he wants to settle down.

You agree with him, teary eyed, kiss kiss, you know the drill

BB8 beeps at your feet

POST TROS BONUS

The both of you settled on Yavin 4, his home planet

You are blessed with kids, first a baby boy and then a baby girl, 2 years apart

Who you name Kes and Leia, after Poe’s dad and Leia’s mom, who devoted their lives to the resistance and in one way or another were behind the reason your life path’s ever crossed

Poe cried like a baby when you told him you wanted your first born to be named Kes

Occasional visits form uncle Finn and uncle Chewie

When it’s just Finn, him and Poe tend to go out and do “guy stuff”

While you sit back at home with the kids and BB8 who loves to entertain them

And it isn’t rare for sometimes you being sitting on a bench, watching the three of them play in the distance, head on Poe’s shoulder, his arms draped around your waist

And you look to the side to be met with the Force ghosts of your family members looking down at you

#THIS ONE TOOK TOO LONG #why do i always go all out on the headcanons ffs #poe dameron x reader #poe dameron headcanon #poe dameron x skywalker!reader #poe dameron #oscar isaac #the rise of skywalker #the force awakens #star wars #the last jedi

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lokigodofaces · 3 years ago

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Okay, I know I've made it clear that I think Star Wars was overall screwed over more than Loki/Marvel, but Marvel did take the incest route and run with it. Long post with pics, so I'm putting a cut to make things more convenient :)

In Star Wars we have the obvious issue in Empire Strikes Back...

And the commonly forgotten about kiss in A New Hope

And another one

And here's at the end of Empire

Bam, four kisses between these two when they are love interests. Very fun. And while the fandom jokes about these, especially the one at the beginning of Empire, none of us care. Because it never went farther than this, and Luke, Leia, the actors, and George Lucas himself did not know they were twins.

How is that possible? There was no plan when the OT was made. Pretty much everyone thought A New Hope would flop, so no plans for sequels were made. And Star Wars is a huge part of why sequels to movies (not counting those adapted from books) became popular, so I don't know when Lucas decided to make a sequel. And Empire could have flopped too. Lucas made things up as he went, but he stuck with the narrative pretty well, which is why the OT is so good despite no planning. But up until Return of the Jedi, Luke, Leia, and Han were supposed to have some sort of love triangle thing going on. And they do in ANH and ESB. I guess Lucas wanted Leia/Han to be the endgame (which makes sense, given how things went in ESB), but Harrison Ford didn't want to come back, so Luke was kind of backup. But since they got Ford to come back, they had to find some way to satisfy the end of Luke/Leia. And a pretty good way of doing that is to make them twins!

Here are Mark Hamill and Carrie Fisher reacting to the news. Clearly, they did not know until ROTJ. These are the faces of people realizing they had filmed five incestuous kisses (the fifth was in a deleted scene). (No this doesn't matter, I just find this picture hilarious).

While they never have a conversation on screen about it, well, when they find out, you can see it in their faces. Instant regret. Because they totally kissed each other.

"It won't be easy for you to hear it, but you must." Yeah, part of that is because of tense circumstances, but Luke did just say his father is Vader and is about to tell Leia she is his sister that kissed him four times.

So then Leia is free to be with Han, no more incest, and all incest before happened before they knew, so that's on Obi-Wan for not telling Luke. Dude should have shown up the instant Leia kissed him when they were on Yavin and told them. I understand the need to hide them for their own safety and keep them separated, but that's not gonna work anymore. The only kiss they have after this is in The Last Jedi, and that is clearly not romantic. Luke is about to get himself killed, and he is saying good bye to his sister. Though, oh boy, when I first saw it, there were thousands of jokes forming in my head.

It's not a popular ship, not even in pre-ROTJ fics. It's mostly something fans joke about. Because, haha, remember that time Luke and Leia kissed? And how a bunch of people shipped them? And then it turned out they were twins? Classic!

The only other time incest really ever entered the Star Wars fandom has been through fans. There are clone/clone ships, and, basically that's shipping them with an identical twin (except there are millions of them. And, when Force Awakens first came out, lots of people started shipping Reylo. Myself and several others did not. And for me, the only reason was because Star Wars had fooled me once. After that movie came out, everyone was theorizing who Rey's parents were. And likely candidates were Luke, Leia, and/or Han. Which would make Rey Ben's sister or cousin. And after ESB, I wasn't going to ship anyone with anyone until I found out exactly who everyone was related to. I really wanted Rey to be a Kenobi (thought it would be poetic if Ben redeemed himself and then those bloodlines would be reunited with a common cause and they could kill Snoke together), but I was not risking it. And even when TLJ made it seem as if Rey's parents were nobodies, I was not risking it even still. But obviously, that's only supposed incest, and me being cautious because I shipped Luke and Leia as a kid before I saw ROTJ. Rey is a Palpatine, nothing bad here. But, well, her being a Skywalker or a Solo was a very real possibility.

And then we move on to Marvel. Now that variants keep popping up, there's some...interesting things happen. Keep in mind, I have not seen Multiverse of Madness yet. I really hope I do not have to edit this post with something from that.

First off...this....

Since Sylvie was born female, that means her and Loki don't have exactly the same DNA. But, they are probably twin-like genetically. And they both know it. This is season one. This was planned to be a kiss between to Loki variants. Which I wouldn't mind too much (if I were to conveniently forget some things) if Marvel was straight up about it. They refer to it as "self love" and try to skirt around the fact that they're genetically siblings. And, on the one hand, I could actually argue this isn't incest (I mean, if Loki has an alligator variant, clearly the variants' DNA can be drastically different. So there is the possibility Sylvie and Loki aren't sibling-like. But how are they supposed to know? Loki literally saw a video of his "true" variant who looks exactly like how he does in episode 1. He knows that variants can be strikingly similar. But, nope, never considered.

To add to this, you have the Peters interactions. Primarily this line.

So, on the one hand, Marvel is saying there is no incest in Loki. On the other hand, they're explicitly calling the Peters brothers. And, of course, this can be interpreted as brothers in arms. But it still seems a little off.

I'm not a fan of Sylki, and that is the least of my concerns (it isn't even a good friendship). I'm not a fan of incest in general myself, but, it's fiction. And Sylki fics on Ao3 are probably not going to cause real life incest. I operate on a "don't like, don't look" philosophy. I have to in order to stay sane. That's what happens when you end up in a minority group. Between being queer and my religious minority, I don't let myself look for things I don't like. The instant I see it, I block it. Because I'm not going to let myself have someone hating me for my sexuality or religion on my dash. And I do the same thing with incest. It's not my thing typically, so I don't go out looking for it or try to stop it from being made. But practically everyone that ships an incestuous ship recognizes it as incest. I mean, ask a thorki shipper. They aren't going to deny it. There may be fics of theirs where it isn't incest (they weren't raised together), but they will all admit that if there is a relationship in a universe similar to canon, it is incest. Star Wars admits that Luke/Leia is incest. Not as obvious in the films (I have a feeling acknowledging it in the movies might have bumped the ratings up from PG), but anyone that ships it or clone/clone usually admits it's incest. And then there's Marvel that can't decide. Would they call it incest if it was Pres Loki/TVA Loki? Probably. But they chose to do Sylki, and now it's not, according to them. That is my issue. I would like at least some acknowledgement.

#i have no idea why i wrote this #i'm kinda in a star wars mood i guess so i keep thinking sw #may the force be with you #loki (2021)#loki (2021) critical #sylvie laufeydottir #loki laufeyson #tva loki #again i have no idea why i felt the need to compare them but i did

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dindyke · 4 years ago

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Three Ways A Clan Is Torn Apart : 1301 words, din djarin/luke skywalker, canon compliant, major character death

The attack on Luke Skywalker's Jedi Academy by the newly formed Kylo Ren diverges at three points, three ways in which Din Djarin and Grogu lose and are reunited with the final member of their Clan of Three.

Midnight finds the Mand'alor still in conference, with no clear end in sight. His advisors argue amongst themselves, and Din shifts in his seat, waiting for them to finish. His throat is coated with an acid he cannot seem to swallow down, and he can’t focus on the blabber.

When Grogu pushes the heavy doors open, guards flat on their asses behind his small body, the chatter is forgotten completely. Grogu speaks to them all through the Force.

Buir, we must leave. There is a disturbance on Yavin IV. I cannot sense the Children, he says.

He hears the end of a protest from Bo Katan and leaves the room in a hurry, hoping they will come to understand that if his family is in jeopardy, he must go. That is his Way.

“Your father? Can you sense him?” Din asks as they quickly make their way to their ship.

Faint. He is faint, is all Grogu says in return.

The trip to Yavin IV is silent, spare for their breathing. When they land, amongst the rubble and the smell of death, it suffocates them. Grogu places his small hands on every cold body, pushing energy through the Force until he sways and can no longer stand.

They didn’t find Luke. However, his X-Wing was missing, and neither his robes nor his corpse were anywhere to be found. Hope. That was their hope.

The two of them put out the fires and cleaned the dead as they waited for Leia and the families to arrive. To bury them here would be presumptuous. Many of the students had parents, siblings, who had come to visit frequently as Din had with Grogu in the earliest years.

When nothing was left to busy his hands with, Din sat at the edge of the smoldering temple, weeping into his knees. He couldn’t bear to think of what may have happened should Grogu not have traveled with him to Mandalore.

His exchange with Leia was brief, conveying what he’d seen, what he hadn’t. Her son was missing from the bodies as well… they could understand what this meant. She told him she’d felt it when he turned. She looked more devoid of joy than he had ever seen her.

As he and Grogu sped away to find her brother, he knew she gave a politician’s performance to the arriving families of the victims. Stoic and just warm enough to be inspiring, she could handle this in a way he never could, for his covert nor his citizens.

Tracking down a Jedi Master had been hard enough when Luke was a cocky young man, only barely caring to stay under the radar. A Jedi Master who didn’t want to be found would be even harder.

However, if Luke wanted to go missing, he had married the wrong man. Din was the Mand’alor, but he was a Bounty Hunter first, and he would never forget.

Determination in his heart, he set off, his son at his side, to regain their lost Clan Member.

“We’ll bring you home, cyar’ika.”

II.

Din Djarin wakes to an empty bed, the sheets cold although the air outside is scorching. He smells smoke. He dons his armor as quickly as he may have 30 years ago and rushes from his hut, finding Luke nowhere.

Children are screaming.

He runs through the stone and brick plaza, and when he sees the first body, he chokes on his breath. She’s already dead, a perfectly cauterized slice torn through her abdomen. She was one of their youngest.

He flings open each house, screaming for Luke and losing his hope with every child he sees slaughtered in their beds.

When he feels Grogu call to him through the Force, he nearly collapses. He’s at the temple. Din can’t run fast enough. More of the padawans lay motionless in the road, and he hopes to the Gods that someone better than him will protect them in the next world, as he has failed in this one.

The temple is aflame when he reaches it, two meek figures boldly lit in the dark night. Grogu, posed with his saber, and… and Ben.

It was Ben. Ben did this.

If he cares that Din is there, he doesn’t show it. He makes a move to approach Grogu (the kid must have got him good, he’s got a limp), but Din is there first.

He may no longer be Mand’alor, but Din has always been a fighter, a protector. And he’d damn himself a million times over before he lets a Sith touch his son.

As he had all his life, Din Djarin fights valiantly, with every tool in his arsenal and his family at the forefront of his mind.

When Luke wakes up, disoriented and bruised beneath the ruins of Ben’s hut, he finds everything he worked for gone. His students, his school, his legacy, and his order. In front of the ashes of the Jedi temple, lie his son and his husband. Even if he could have healed them from the brink of death, it was far too late.

III.

There were several points between Bo Katan finally mercy-challenging Din for the title of Mand’alor and the six years he had now spent with Luke in his self-inflicted exile where Din really believed he could change his husband’s mind.

He understands this shame. He’d failed to protect their students too. Some of those padawans had come from Mandalore. And they’d lost most of them. The few who survived were left in the hands of the Republic, now, or with their families.

Luke had called Leia and left immediately, with Din and Grogu hot on his trail. He hadn’t wanted them to come with him. He was undeserving, he was dangerous, he’d said. He had lost himself in his trauma and nearly destroyed one member of his family, what would stop him from destroying them? He’d holed himself away within a mountain, bringing down the cave opening to keep them out.

Din and Grogu sat outside, calling to him every once and a while. Grogu occasionally shifted a rock, but he didn’t open it. They both knew Luke needed to do that on his own. After a few days of punishing himself in the stale darkness, he came back out.

That first week on Ahch-To was hard. Luke didn’t talk much. He mostly paced, up and down the winding dirt pathways of the first Jedi temple. He talked to himself, cursed at the skies, and cried against the Seeing Stone.

By the second week, Luke allowed himself to sleep at his husband’s side. It was fitful and sparse, but it was familiar.

Din respected Luke’s wishes of anonymity. He sent brief messages to the others, keeping his location hidden but assuring them that he would bring Luke home soon.

A year passed, and those messages grew few and far between. By the third, they had stopped completely.

As he had learned from Luke and the ways of the Jedi how to embrace possibility, peace, the Force around all things, he had hoped that Luke learned some things from the Mandalorians too. How to get back up, even after you’ve been kicked. After you’ve failed. How to maintain your honor and your beliefs in spite of intense pain and loss.

Six years later, maybe that was a foolish thought. Luke was more than capable of pulling himself out of his pain, Din knew this. He’d seen him recover time and time again from his traumas and tribulations.

But six years later, Din finally understands that it was not a problem of ability, but a problem of will.

The only one punishing Luke was himself, and until he decides he no longer deserves to be guilty, no one was going to change his mind.

#ive been thinking about this for WEEKS.#star wars fic #dinluke fic #dinluke #grogu #the mandalorian #star wars #baby yoda #skydalorian #luke skywalker #din djarin #fic #fanfiction #txt

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treenahasthaal · 4 years ago

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Dark Times: The Story So Far

Dark Times

A Summary

Before I post any new content, I thought a brief summary may be called for.

Chapter 1: NetworkTwo years after the battle of Yavin, Luke is part of an X-Wing squad on a mission to destroy an Imperial Munitions factory on the planet Escaal. He is shot down, hides his lightsaber, and is rescued by the local resistance lead by a man named Dade, who Luke does not meet (or so it seems). Luke is hidden in safe house and his injuries treated. Unfortunately, his hiding place is discovered and after a chase he his shot, injured and captured and brought to the local Imperial prison where Interrogation Specialist Erwin Rhovan questions him using enhanced interrogation techniques and torture.

Rhovan finds Luke’s lightsaber at his crash site.

Vader finds out that Luke is captured and heads to Escaal to claim his son. However, just as he arrives and when Luke is near breaking point Rhovan reveals himself to be the leader of the resistance, Dade. Vader only has a few moments with Luke as during the transfer between the detention centre, Artoo causes the turbolifts to malfunction and Rhovan takes the opportunity to rescue Luke.

Chapter Two: Pale ShelterRhovan takes Luke to the Rebel base on Ra’imar where he is reunited with Wedge Antilles and the rest of Rogue Squadron. He is severely injured (do I sense a theme?) and receives treatment. We find out that Han Solo had tried to get to Escaal, but with the planet on lockdown (we know how that feels) it had been impossible. He and Leia board the Falcon to go to Ra’imar.

It turns out that General Rieekan knows Rhovan and that it seems that they had been friends. Luke and Rhovan are debriefed on the events on Escaal and it starts to become obvious that Luke is struggling with PTSD.

Luke senses that Vader and the Empire are on their way and tries to warn High Command. He lies and says that he broke during Interrogation and told Vader of the base hoping to give the Alliance time to evacuate, but it’s too late. The Empire arrives and lands forces with Vader leading.

Luke is placed in the custody of two rebel troopers, Haslam and Thecla. Before they can get to the evacuation ship it leaves without them. Against orders Luke persuades the soldiers to get to the hangers and an x-wing. However, by the time they get there it is ablaze from an Imperial bombing run.

Han and Leia arrive and join the battle, shooting down TIE Bombers and Fighters. Rhovan is evacuated.

Luke and the two soldiers are trapped on the planet with no way off. Luke realises that it is he who Vader wants and prepares to give himself up. Just before Vader takes him, however Artoo (Yay again!) lands in between father and son and with Thecla and Haslam’s help Luke gets into the fighter. Han brings the Falcon down and Thecla, injured by a flying lightsaber, is taken onboard with Haslam.

Again, Vader is left empty handed.

Chapter Three: RhovanThe surviving Alliance Forces head to Ardalii VI, a new base set up on the side of a volcano. On the landing pad Rhovan, now intrigued by Luke, watches as he lands and is arrested for disobeying orders; much to Han and Leia’s, and Rogue Squadron’s anger.

Rhovan is introduced to Mon Mothma. It’s revealed that Rhovan is from Chandrila. During their meeting she seems interested on what may have passed between Luke and Vader on Escaal and she explains to him that after Bail Organa died, Artoo Detoo came to her with a holographic message from the late Viceroy. Bail told her about Anakin Skywalker and Senator Amidala’s relationship and the birth of their children. She explains that Luke and Leia do not know of their relationship and no knowledge of the truth of their parentage. She is fearful that should Luke discover his true identity that he will join his father against them. She tasks him with watching them both, but particularly Luke, and if it looks like Luke may betray them, Rhovan is to kill Luke.

Luke is fully debriefed by a panel led by Major Ehlen Anders, on Escaal and the events on Ra’mar. It is decided that instead of a full court martial, Luke would be reprimanded for disobeying orders. During a brief, tense meeting, Rhovan returns Luke’s lightsaber to him.

Chapter Four: ConflictThe Empire is clearing up on Ra’imar and Vader ruminates on his past and on his illusive son. Palpatine makes contact and is unhappy, but gives Vader the task of moving refugees from the planet Cusrean to an old orbiting research facility. Vader is perplexed by the order, but it turns out that it is a trap for the Alliance. Fake intelligence will be passed to the Alliance that the facility is researching weaponizing a deadly disease. This will allow him to root out spies within the Empire, and set up the Alliance who will destroy the station and kill refugees, thus the Rebellion will lose support.

It ends with Palpatine savouring the conflict in the galaxy, and the potential conflict between Vader and Luke. It is revealed that Palpatine has a spy in the Rebel ranks who Palpatine tasks with reporting on Luke.

Chapter Five: A Legitimate Target Luke is not yet passed for active flight duty and is still grounded. Han does try to lift his spirits and suggests joining him on supply runs, but Luke declines. Instead he decides to train himself and finds a natural hollow (an old lava flow) surrounded by forest in which to practise with his lightsaber. He is watched.

The Alliance find out about the orbiting research station and the disease the Empire is “planning,” on releasing. They plan to attack, however they are short on pilots and Leia suggests allowing Luke back in the air despite concerns for his mental health. Rhovan backs her up and Luke is welcomed back to the squad.

The Alliance attack the space station, Vader’s forces defend it with the Darth Lord himself in the battle. The fighting is furious. Luke is given the task (the order) of firing the shot that will take out the space station; but all he feels in the Force is innocence. He hesitates, initially disobeying, but his squad are dying around him. He takes the shot and the research facility is destroyed.

The Alliance fighters turn tail and bug out, but Luke’s X-Wing is tagged and Vader tries to capture him, but Luke eludes him again and jumps out of the system. He returns to Adralii VI to find the place subdued and during a debrief of the mission he is told he killed over 20000 innocent civilians due to bad intel. Luke is devasted and is haunted because he enjoyed destroying the space station.

The volcano begins to spew ash and the base in locked down. Luke gets drunk with Han on the Falcon, but later he can’t sleep and leaves the ship. Thecla finds Luke wandering in the ash fall and takes him to the hanger and the rest of the squad. He dreams of watching bodies floating in space; one in particular upsets him. It’s a little girl tumbling in space.

Mothma and Rhovan discuss Luke and the possible danger he presents to the Alliance.

Vader senses Luke’s turmoil through the Force. He decides if he cannot get Luke through battle or capture then another path may be possible.

Palpatine converses with his spy.

Later Luke is helping with the ash clear up, when Han is given the task of taking Leia on a diplomatic mission to try and repair some of the damage done to the Alliance. Luke finds himself in the mess hall with the rest of the squad and the holonet is playing footage (from Vader’s ship) when the image of a dead little girl appears – the one from Luke’s dream. It is then that one of the squads mentions that the faulty intel came from Rhovan.

Luke, in a fugue like state, attacks Rhovan; drawing his saber on him before Wedge tackles him to the ground. Han helps remove Luke to the Falcon before returning to punch out Rhovan himself. Luke gets away from the rest of the squad and goes to his training places and loses himself in the Force as he trains. He has vision of a man standing by his grandmother’s grave

A search party is sent out to find him and secure him (and the squad for helping him get away). Thecla find him and they talk for a while before Luke agrees to go in with her. He finds Han, Wedge and the rest of the squad in lock up, too.

Rhovan meanwhile is perplexed as to where the Executor is going after Cusrean.

Chapter Six, Absolute: It turns out that Leia and Han’s proposed mission is to the planet Horaarn, who is one of the Alliances suppliers. They want to know what happened at Cusrean, and they want Luke to tell them. Luke agrees to go. However, on landing and after tense standoff Luke agrees to give himself into Horaarn custody.

Rhovan is sent by Mon Mothma to Horaarn. But is arrested. He is transferred to Vader’s ship.

Leia is given diplomatic rooms along with Threepio and Artoo. Han, Thecla and Haslam have to remain on the landing platform. However, they manage to get Thecla off the platform and into the city.

There is to be a public hearing at which Luke has to account for his actions. During this hearing Vader arrives and accuses Luke of murder and requests his extradition to Imperial custody.

Luke is taken back into custody (this time criminal proceedings), Leia loses diplomatic status and is return to the Falcon. On Horaarn it is guilty before proved innocent and Leia cannot find any Legal Representative who will take on Luke’s case. She has to do it herself, via hologram from the Falcon.

Luke has a “face to face,” with Vader where he confesses that he felt pleasure when he destroyed the space station. He tells Vader that he won’t win.

Meanwhile, the events on Horaarn are broadcast to the Galaxy on the holonet and the Alliance sends in the X-Wings to help rescue their people.

Stuck in the city, Thecla uses her comlink to contact her handler, revealing herself as Palpatine’s spy.

During a tense trial Luke loses and is given to Vader.

It is revealed that Rhovan has been reinstated into the Empire due his special status and codes. There is more to this man than meets the eye.

The Falcon and it’s occupants are ordered off planet and it’s a tense battle to get past the Imperial blockade, but Wedge et al, join the fray and the Falcon jumps to lightspeed.

Luke learns that his friends are safe and feels that he can face whatever Vader has in store for him as long as Han and Leia are safe. He is walked to Vader’s shuttle and as he steps on board he is faced with Thecla who is pointing a blaster at him. He tells her to “do it,” and Thecla shoots him in the chest.

Cradled in Vader’s arms and dying, Luke understands the visions he’s had, he hears Vader called him “my son,” and he dies after telling Vader, “I win, father.”

Dark Times: Interludes.A series of “quick” one-shots that takes us through the events of “Hoth,” during which Haslam dies and Rieekan is missing.

Leia grieves for Luke, has started a relationship with Han and in her dreams she hears a voice stating, “I am your master.”

Rhovan ponders is fate while thinking of Thecla now in his cells. Thecla, likewise, ruminates on events and on who she had really killed. Vader arrives and takes Thecla from her cell as the Emperor has a special task for her.

Leia remembers something that Threepio had translated from Artoo during her attempts to save Luke on Horaarn. While plugged into the Horaarn computer systems Artoo had been “forced,” to give information to a third party when a code from a previous owner was used. Leia askes the little droid about it, and after much protestations Artoo informs her that the code was Anakin Skywalker’s. He confirms that Anakin is alive and that it was he who used the code on Artoo. He confirms that Anakin was on Horaarn. Leia asks Artoo where Anakin was during Luke’s trial and is informed that he was in the court room with Luke and Leia realises that Anakin Skywalker and Darth Vader as one and the same person.

And that Luke is alive.

Luke is indeed “alive.” He suffered a catastrophic brain injury through lack of oxygen, but his body was saved. Through manipulation of the midiclorians Palpatine was able to regrow brain tissue. However, Luke is comatose and vulnerable to Palpatine’s machinations.

Chapter 7, For Darkness Restores: Please go back to the start of this chapter as I have reworked and edited much of it. Sadly my writing is not what it once was… ☹

ooOOoo

Did I miss anything?

#Star Wars #Fan Fic #Luke Skywalker #Darth Vader #Anakin Skywalker #Leia Organa #Han Solo #Chewbacca #Artoo #Threepio #Erwin Rhovan #Thecla #Lord Commander Racas #Wedge Antilles #Its Alive #sort of #Its breathing and has a heart beat #Writers block #I'm terrified it sucks

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vanishedangels · 3 years ago

Text

The Red Thread of Fate

Chapter 1 • Chapter 2 • Chapter 3 • Chapter 4 • Chapter 5

Loosely based on The Myth of Ariadne and Theseus and Ariadne's Story.

Pairing: Din Djarin/Luke Skywalker.

Characters: Luke Skywalker, Din Djarin, Anakin Skywalker, Padmè Amidala, Obi Wan Kenobi, Leia Organa, Biggs Darklighter, Sheev Palpatine.

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Tatooine slave culture. Slavery.

Chapters: 2/5

Navigation: <- Previous Chapter • Next Chapter ->

Anakin chuckled "Now seriously, maybe you would like to ask for my daughter's hand in marriage." He made a pause. The Princess gasped resting her hand on her mother's throne, Din looked at her, she seemed furious and insulted. The King shook his head and clicked his tongue "Or perhaps you are more interested in my son's hand." He arched his eyebrows with the filthiest smile on his face, the mandalorian's hands clenched into tight fists staring directly at Luke. The blonde Prince was panting, his face reddened all of sudden and his eyes widened, not able to blink, not even once. The King leaned forward moving his face to the side of the mandalorian's helmet "Is the biggest prize I can offer you. Aren't you dying to take my precious son into your arms and make him your consort, young Prince?" He said in a low voice like he was sharing a secret.

Chapter 2: Earth

Exhausted and desperate, Prince Luke waited until sunrise and headed towards his uncle's chamber. When he opened the door the Prince startled as he shifted his gaze from Obi Wan to his mother. The Queen was standing behind the old man with a soft smile on his face and warm eyes, she nodded at her son.

The Prince blinked astonished "Luke." She said with the sweetest voice and closed the distance between them. "Your uncle told me about what you are planning to do." The Prince opened his mouth to say something but his mother took his hand in hers before he could say a word "I want to help Prince Djarin too." The Queen nodded staring into his eyes as Luke felt something pressing against his hand, he lowered his gaze only to find a ball of red thread "You give this to the mandalorian Prince, tell him to tie one end near the entrance of the labyrinth, he shall unroll it as he walks into the maze, this way he would be able to come back and never get lost." Luke blinked and tilted his head to the side.

"But, this is..." He looked at his uncle sideways "Isn't the labyrinth enormous?"

His mother smiled tenderly "Oh, but this is a special thread. It's infinite." The prince assessed the ball pursing his lips "A wise naboo pythoness gave it to me when I was younger than you and your sister are now. She told me that one day, someone close to my heart will need to use it and that I would recognize who and when..." She sighed "And it's you. And it's now, my dearest son." The Prince's throat tightened as he contemplated this angel that he called mother before him and he wrapped his arms around her with affection, he felt love and admiration and something inside him broke the moment he realized he was hiding the fact that he was leaving his family behind that same day if they succeeded.

"Thank you mother" he said as he pressed a soft kiss on her temple "Thank you." He said with wet eyes and an aching heart.

"Now son, your father shall not know. Be careful." The prince nodded and pulled away from her.

"Luke, there's a secret entrance to the labyrinth, you should meet Prince Djarin there, it's only ten yards away from the real entrance, so there's no way you lose your way back. I'm giving the message to him." Uncle Obi Wan was clutching his shoulders firmly and the Prince nodded staring into his eyes. "You'll wait for him there and you'll give him the ball of thread and my lightsaber." He pulled away from the Prince but the boy reached out to grab his hand.

"No uncle, the Prince will wield my lightsaber." Luke felt chills when he said it, the idea of the mandalorian Prince taking his saber in his hands to face his fate was overwhelming. He shook his head trying to hide the way his cheeks tinted in pink. "Uncle? I'm afraid my father would retaliate you if he found out you are doing this." He said worrying his lower lip with his teeth.

Obi Wan smiled "Don't worry about me Luke, I would have faced your father eventually, it was just a matter of time."

When they were walking away, Queen Padmè hugged her son "Come back to us my boy, when you're ready." Prince Luke froze "Just promise me you will keep safe, wherever you are going... Keep safe and come back to us." Luke cried against her, stroking her hair. He never said a word about it, but his mother seemed to know that this was the last time they would see each other until their paths crossed again.

"I love you." Luke whispered, his voice breaking.

King Anakin was sitting on his throne when his good friend walked into the room "Is he dead already?" He asked encircling the hilt of his lightsaber with his fingers.

"He's entering the labyrinth in ten minutes." Obi wan answered.

The King hummed narrowing his eyes "Such a shame. A Prince as fine and valiant as this Din Djarin dying inside a maze." He clicked his tongue.

Luke was holding the ball of thread in his hands, shifting from one foot to the other, he could feel his heart thumping in his ears and his stomach clenched when he saw a tall form walking into his direction. "You're here." He whispered. His voice echoing off the walls.

The mandalorian merged into the dim light of Luke's torch and the Prince of Tatooine was mesmerized by the sight. Beskar bathed in furious orange shades, reflecting the fire. He tilted his head to the side and sighed "I'm glad you're here too, Prince Luke."

Luke was agape until he remembered why they were inside that death trap, he shrugged and shook his head "We have no time." He said as he handed him his lightsaber "Do you know how to ignite it?"

"Yes, your uncle showed me how."

"Good." Then he put the ball of thread into his free hand "This is, uh, an infinite thread, unroll it and when you finish follow it back." Luke looked around and he didn't find anywhere to tie the end of the thread. He was frowning as he looked down at the string between his fingers "I know." He said as he wrapped the end around his forefinger "I'm going to stay here. I'll wait for you." He stared into the mandalorian's visor. The man's chest plate was moving up and down fast. "Go. Go now." He closed the distance between them resting his hands on the man's chest as he kissed the cheek of his helmet "Come back to me, Prince Djarin." He said pulling away from him.

"I will." The mandalorian said with a wobbly voice. Luke stared at the mandalorian's back as he walked away and into the maze for more time than he could tell, lost in his own thoughts, until there was only emptiness and coldness surrounding him.

Prince Luke was sitting on the floor, head in hands. Tears started to stream down his strained face when a red glow caught his attention, he stare down only to find the thread tied to his finger sparkling in a scarlet trail that led into the darkness. Suddenly the earth started moving under his body and he stood up, terror invading him. He thought about Prince Din, he waited for him for so long that he was expecting the worst. The earth stopped shaking and he slumped to the ground, his face against the cold stone's surface, he cried until exhaustion drained the tears out of him. The thread was still glowing until an explosion of red stars bathed Luke's golden hair like a supernova. He was astonished, breathing fast and staring into the labyrinth when he felt a pull on his forefinger, Prince Din Djarin appeared before his eyes and Luke ran into his arms in a heartbeat. Din held him tight, his breath shaking, he stared at Luke's face soothing his hands on his back. Prince Luke squeezed his eyes shut blinking back his tears "You're alive. You made it." He said caressing the back of the mandalorian's helmet. Prince Din leaned forward and pressed his forehead against Luke's, the blonde boy shivered closing his eyes.

"Because of you cyar'ika." Din sighed and Luke moved his hands to his shoulders to bring him closer.

Prince Luke stared into his visor, relishing the other man's touch, humming and struggling against the sudden urge to stay in his arms forever, until he heard voices coming from the entrance.

Luke pulled away from him "Go outside, they're waiting for you."

"What about you?"

He took his lightsaber from the mandalorian as well as the ball of thread, now ordinary in his hands, red and opaque. "I will find you later. Now go. Please." He said and walked away, disappearing into the gloom.

By the time the twin suns had set, Prince Din Djarin of Tatooine walked into the throne room. The King and Queen were sitting on the thrones, Princess Leia was standing next to her mother and Prince Luke, next to his father. The mandalorian bowed his head and moved his helmet into Luke's direction, the Tatooine Prince was wearing a rose gold diadem that blended with his strawberry blonde hair. His blue eyes looked sad and darker under the dim light. The King snapped his head towards his son and then he looked back at the mandalorian grinning as he stood up "Prove to me that you fulfilled my request, mandalorian." He said crossing his arms. Prince Din moved his visor from Luke to his father's face to stare into the man's eyes. He brought his hands to his satchel bag and then he was showing him a Krayt Dragon Pearl.

The King widened his eyes, a pleased smile appearing on his face as he did a slow clap "Congratulations Prince Djarin, I admire your bravery. I would bow down to you, but I'm still your King after all, thus I won't." He snorted out a laugh.

Din nodded. "I do not need any King to reverence me. I did what you asked and I want my prize." He deadpanned. The King pressed his lips together narrowing his eyes, the Princess nodded at the mandalorian in approval behind his father's back. Prince Luke didn't make a move, didn't make a sound, he looked like a greek sculpture, dry and pale, frozen behind a blank expression.

The King took a deep breath and rubbed his chin with his hand "Alright mandalorian Prince, let's get through this. What do you want? Beskar? Credits? Staying permanently on Tatooine? Becoming my royal guard?" He laughed sarcastically.

"None of those, Your Highness." He slowly moved his head to a side.

"I know, I know. I was just messing with you." Anakin chuckled "Now seriously, maybe you would like to ask for my daughter's hand in marriage." He made a pause. The Princess gasped resting her hand on her mother's throne, Din looked at her, she seemed furious and insulted. The King shook his head and clicked his tongue "Or perhaps you are more interested in my son's hand." He arched his eyebrows with the filthiest smile on his face, the mandalorian's hands clenched into tight fists staring directly at Luke. The blonde Prince was panting, his face reddened all of sudden and his eyes widened, not able to blink, not even once. The King leaned forward moving his face to the side of the mandalorian's helmet "Is the biggest prize I can offer you. Aren't you dying to take my precious son into your arms and make him your consort, young Prince?" He said in a low voice like he was sharing a secret. The mandalorian stood still as the King pulled back and looked him up and down, assessing him.

Prince Djarin shifted his gaze from Luke to the King "I am honoured Your Highness." The King hummed closing his eyes triumphant, hands on his hips "I would kill ten thousand Krayt Dragons to marry your son every day for the rest of my life. But Your Highness stated that the one that killed the Krayt Dragon would choose their prize."

The King frowned moving his head to the side. He sighed waving his hand "What's your prize then?" He expressed boredom by yawning at the Prince's helmeted face. "This is lasting forever, cut to the chase."

The mandalorian Prince stared into his eyes "My prize is that Mandalore will be free, our planet won't longer be a conquered one, Tatooine won't rule us anymore. Your people will retreat and leave Mandalore for good. This is the way."

The King reached for his lightsaber attached to his belt. "Father! No!" His son's voice brought him to his senses and Anakin withdrew his hand.

"No" the King said grinding his teeth "You won't get that! Ask for anything else, except that."

Queen Padmè walked to her husband's side "My King, you're a honourable man and also you're a man of your words." She put a hand on Anakin's arm "This man complied with the request." She nodded at the mandalorian Prince "My King will honour his words. Will he, Your Highness?" She tried to soothe him by caressing his forearm.

The King stared into her face, so sincere, so kind. Leia and Luke were holding hands behind them, the King darted a gaze at them over his shoulder. For a moment, he went silent and then he asked his Queen to go back to her throne. Padmè obliged after giving the mandalorian Prince a reassuring smile. Anakin stared at the young man in beskar giving him a once-over, his hand hovering menacingly over his lightsaber "You're bold. You're also a petulant young man. You should be executed on charge of insurrection. Nevertheless, you're leaving my planet in one hour. That's your prize, Din Djarin from the Clan Vizsla Prince of Mandalore, leaving Tatooine alive. I spare your life. Now run to your mother and tell her how magnanimous I am and enjoy your slave life. Hopefully you will die at an advance age." The King was walking away towards the throne.

"Mandalore will be free." The mandalorian Prince retorted. His eyes meeting Luke's, the blonde boy shook his head slightly, his lips quivering and his eyes pleading in silence.

How does it feel? To be the son of a man without honour. How does it feel to live inside a gilded cage? Luke was holding his hands tight, his knuckles going white, his heart pounding hard out of his chest. Please Din, walk away now. Leave it at that.

If only the mandalorian Prince would walk away. One hour. One hour and Luke would be free.

#dinluke #dinluke fanfiction #din djarin #luke skywalker #the red thread of fate fanfic #skydalorian

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darkisrising · 4 years ago

Text

Five Times, by DarkIsRising,pt5

Previous parts here on ao3

Five Times Din and Luke Met (and one time they never parted)

Somehow it’s Boba Fett of all beings that gets Luke in touch with Grogu’s dad again.

Fett doesn’t want to help him, of course. Not after all the bad blood that’s been spilled between them, especially with the sarlacc pit thing from a few years back, and there’s a lot of the holocomm where the blue flicker of Fett’s image is silent with his arms crossed while Luke has to practically crawl on his belly to get him to take the call, let alone listen to Luke, let alone relent enough to give Luke a name.

Just a name.

“Come on, Fett, that’s all I’m asking for.”

“Wow, Skywalker. You really fucked up this time, didn’t you?”

And Luke has to agree that yes, he did indeed fuck up though in his defense he was riding high on the Force at the time, but that’s not something that’s likely to sway Fett one way of the other so he goes the meek route, saying quietly: “I really did. Will you help me?”

Fett’s helmet tilts to the side, like maybe he’s finally considering it, and Luke is a deft enough swordsman these days to press an advantage when he sees one.

“Not even for my sake. For his son’s.”

Fett’s sigh is loud enough to be picked up on his voice modulator on Tatooine, travel through the shared holocomm connection—in one end of the outer rim and out the other—to finally make itself heard in the communications room on Yavin IV’s moon.

“Din Djarin,” comes the terse reply before the connection is abruptly cut off from Fett’s end.

Which isn’t much to go on, considering all he knows is his name and that he’s a Mandalorian, but it is a start.

As it turns out, it’s more than enough because not only is Din Djarin a Mandalorian, he’s the Mandalorian.

“I didn’t realize you came from royalty,” Luke says to Grogu not a little bit stunned as they wait for someone to find the Mand'alor and patch their comm through.

After that it’s a lot of back and forth to strategize a time when he’s able to fly over between all the things he’s gotta do as a king trying to reunify his home sector.

The ship that finally settles down in front of the temple is more of a junker than Luke would expect from a king. The paint is peeling, some of the stabilizer flaps are slow to retract, and there’s a groan when the ramp extends that makes the spacerhead in Luke itch to grab some oil and go to town on those hinges.

Instead Luke stays where he is and when he spots the shine of pure, silver beskar coming down the ramp he falls into a bow which he’s only mastered thanks to extensive holocomming with Leia as she berated him over his pisspoor form while he yelled back that he grew up a farmer for druk’s sake when was he supposed to learn this sithspit king-greeting nonsense?

“You don’t have to do that,” comes a soft voice and Luke looks up in time to see that Grogu has raced ahead with his arms raised to be picked up. In a clean motion that speaks of a body honed for movement he sweeps down and takes Grogu in his arms. “Hey, kid. You have no idea how much I’ve missed you.”

Luke intends to make himself scarce for this reunion which has been a long time coming, but is stopped when the Mand’alor starts asking Luke questions about Grogu’s training, about how he spends his days, what he’s been eating, how he’s been sleeping, if he’s been behaving…

“He’s been a joy to have here, Lord Djarin,” Luke says and it earns him a long, silent look.

“I think you can call me Din, all things considered,” he says before setting Grogu down so that he can dig into his belt’s pouch. “Anyway, I brought presents.”

Grogu’s face turns incandescent when he sees the silver ball that Din plucks from his hip. The sound he makes is nothing short of pure elation and Luke has to laugh alongside the gentle chuckle that comes through Din’s helmet.

“Ah, yes. The famous silver ball,” Luke grins. “I hear Grogu thinking about it all the time, I’m happy he’s finally reunited with it.”

Grogu insists on dragging Din around to show his father his favorite places around the Temple’s grounds, and his enthusiasm is catching. Luke trails along, offering commentary that this is the boulder Grogu had managed to lift through the Force two weeks ago, there was the meadow where he’d been able to deflect his first training droid bolt with Luke’s lightsaber, here is the lake where they’ve been watching the tadpoles gradually grow legs. Settling on a log to watch as Grogu chases a pair frogs along the lake’s muddy shoreline, Luke can feel the weight of Din’s thoughts even if he can’t see their exact shape.

“And you don’t worry about that?” Din asks, voice so withdrawn it could almost be mistaken for shy. “All these attachments he’s got going on? The ball and, well, me? You don’t think it’ll get in the way of his training?”

Luke can only shrug.

“I guess it could, but seeing as I talk to my sister and my brother-in-law nearly every other day it would be awfully hypocritical of me to stop Grogu from forming attachments, himself.”

Din is silent at that, considering, as Luke continues on: “I’ve read some of what the Jedi used to believe, and honestly I have no idea if they had the right idea or not. Their way led to the fall of one of their own who in turn brought down the entire Order. Would things have been different if he’d been allowed to love more freely?” He breaks off to watch Grogu, now bored with the frogs, float the silver ball through the air in a lazy curling pattern.

The last afternoon sun catches at the smooth surface and turns the ball gold along the edges.

“I’d like to think it would. So I’m not planning on holding myself away from that sort of love on the off chance that it might actually be the thing that maintains balance in the Force, and I could hardly hold my student to a different standard. That wouldn’t be fair.”

“I see,” Din says and the simple words lay between them in a complicated tangle. “Well, if that's the way of it, then, here: I brought you something, too,” he says at last and reaches back to his belt.

Years of politeness pressed into him by Aunt Beru at the moisture farm have Luke saying “You didn't have to do that” before Din has so much as taken his hand out of his belt’s pouch, which is just as well since the moment he gets a look at what’s in Din’s hand his heart stutters to a halt in his chest so that it can jump into his throat.

“No,” Luke says, eyes wide, while a cold, dawning understanding creeps across his skin and he can only stare at the bounty puck that glints silver in Din’s gloved palm.

“Oh, no,” Luke whispers sickly “What—”

No, no, no. Oh, sweet Force no.

His voice, Luke realizes. He should have known him from his voice. Even if the beskar is different, his voice is still very much the same.

“I can bring you in warm...” Din is saying and Luke can’t hear the rest because he’s blushing so hard now that the blood is landing in his ears, making a high-pitched, tinny whine that drowns out the words he knows by heart because he’s spent the better part of the last few years thinking about them with his hand on his cock.

“You really didn't recognize me?” Din asks when Luke’s hands come up to cover his face, for all the good it does to hide him from the Mandalorian.

The Mandalorian.

Mando.

Din.

Luke laughs helplessly. Horrified. “I wasn't myself on the cruiser,” he whispers at last.

“Yeah no kidding. I didn't realize who you were until you'd left.” Din has clearly had longer to sit with this revelation because he sounds amused, fond even, while Luke is still reeling. “I don’t think I've ever seen you that serious, not even when you were in carbonite.”

“I wasn’t myself,” is all Luke can say again. Din takes pity on him and lets Luke breathe through the worst of it without saying a word, his helmet turned toward Grogu while Luke sorts through the shattered mess this has broken him into.

“You've changed,” Luke says when he starts to feel whole enough to think in such things as words and sentences.

“I’m still tired,” Din says with a huffing laugh.

“Maybe.” Luke feels braver now. He raises his face to look at Din and in the beskar reflection of Din’s helmet Luke can see his cheeks are now only slightly pink. “But not nearly so lonely.”

“Ah. Yeah.” Din concedes with a nod. “I was different, back then. Grogu changed me, I think”

“Yeah,” Luke nods along with him. “Yeah, I think he did.”

Sensing that they are watching him, Grogu toddles back to Din and lifts his arms to be picked up. This time when he gets close enough, Grogu’s hands come to the sides of Din’s helmet. It isn’t a demand, more of a wide-eyed question, and Din doesn’t need the Force to sense what is being asked of him.

Luke hadn’t known, before, that Grogu had never seen Din’s face until that moment on Gideon’s cruiser. He hadn’t known how much that act of quite literally laying himself bare for Grogu had cost Din. Luke knows it now, from all the times he’s seen the flashes of Din go by in Grogu’s memories and he realizes it now, with a rekindling of his blush, from the memory that Din hadn’t removed his helmet in that hour they two had spent in a water-stained room on Tatooine.

“Let me leave the two of you alone,” Luke offers, clambering to his feet, gaze averted.

“It’s okay,” Din says. “You've seen it already.”

“Oh. I mean,” he stammers, staring at the green foliage, the insects that are curling through the dappled oranges of sunset, the ripples of water that skim the surface of the lake... really at anything but Din. “Yeah, I have, but--”

“Unless you'd rather I keep it on.” Din’s voice is different now. Softer, for having taken his helmet off, and the sound of it does something to Luke. It makes him shiver, this transformation from hard-shelled warrior to someone far more human. “Some people have a thing for it and I know how much you liked it on before.”

His eyes are nearly black in the fading day’s light when Luke snaps his face around to meet them. They harbor a glint that Luke stares at suspiciously. “You're teasing me aren't you?”

Somewhere among the rugged stubble on his cheeks and the dark lines of his mustache a smile quirks at the corner of Din’s mouth. “Yeah. I am.”

Luke’s heart beats triple time as he stares at Din’s mouth before letting his gaze skim along the vulnerable curves of Din’s face. Luke’s fingers yearn to stretch the space between them until he can trace the kindness of Din’s expression. He wants so badly to run his fingertips through the fall of Din’s hair where it sticks to the sweaty skin of his forehead.

“Because if you would want to do—you know—that again.” Luke is very aware that there is a child present that is taking in what they are saying with big, green ears and huge, shining eyes. “With or without the helmet. If you’d like to do that again. I would be...you know, I'd like that.”

“Yeah,” Din smiles, and this time it is a true smile, one that stretches across his face, casting a glow that Luke can’t help but reflect back with a hopeful, happy, probably somewhat idiotic grin of his own. “I'd like that too.”

#dinluke #dinluke fic #darkisrising fic

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primasveraas-writing · 4 years ago

Text

Finnpoe- “the wave, to the ocean”

Poe dies after a lifetime spent together. Finn deals with the aftermath of losing his partner and other half. It's the hardest thing he's ever done.

WORDS: 3030

XXX

Poe dies on a quiet summer evening. Their bedroom, packed with children and grandchildren, is silent aside from muffled cries. Outside their home, crickets chirp, overlapping and loud, enough so that Finn is thinking of their noisy chorus when his husband takes his last breath.

Everything and nothing changes- the Damerons have been mourning preemptively, and Poe’s death is not sudden. There is only sorrow in missing him, rather than the opportunities lost with the end of a life. They cry and comfort each other, as they have done for so many days prior, and they do not need to conjure up funeral plans. Poe wrote his first will when he was 19, and since then, he merely edited and revised his wishes as his life evolved.

Finn experiences his first second, night, week, as a widower. He and Poe spent a lifetime together, and then there is nothing.

Nothing is not nothing. It’s the unification of his entire family, of old friends and beings from all corners of the galaxy. Decades worth of meeting, knowing, loving people. That is the relief to the pain, that he may be surrounded by all the lives he and Poe have touched. His children don’t leave his side.

Distinctly, Finn is aware that he needs them as much as they need him, but this is a role he has always struggled with. He hesitates to ask for help from the people who have just lost their father. They love and know him, but they cannot break through his veneer.

He can hide his grief with a gentle smile or a hug. It’s easier because he means it, but these moments are a droplet of joy amongst an ocean of sorrow. Still, on the surface, all appears well.

When Finn learned the ways of the Force, he became well attuned to the feelings of others. He knows the warm light of happiness, the fire of anger, and the stormy turmoil of pain. He knows that, try as one might, these feelings cannot be hidden or erased. He’s felt the pain of widows and the bereaved. It’s a beacon in the Force, overwhelming and blinding.

Rey can hardly look at him. He can feel her pain, he knows the hurt of his children. Finn knows that Rey must be drowning in his sorrow. He is lost, and he knows that Rey can feel this turmoil just as clearly as he lives it.

Yet she is the last to depart even after duty calls his children away. Weeks fade to months, and although there is no ground beneath Finn’s feet, something like normalcy returns.

It is not quite true that Rey leaves Finn. He examines what’s left of his life before him, and then he cannot stay on Yavin, in a place that still smells like Poe, every inch of their house defined by their life together.

Finn finds a quiet corner of the galaxy, and he goes. Rey discovers a brief holo explaining why he’s left, and that is all. There’s a few frequencies she and his family can call on, but no coordinates with which to find him. It’s him and BB-8, and Finn is really, truly alone, for the first time since he was 21.

In his new bed, it’s less strange to wake up alone. The mattress is smaller, and the sun shines in at a different angle than it did in his room on Yavin IV. Sometimes, there is still a phantom warmth next to him, and in the moments before Finn fully wakes, he can feel Poe there beside him. He’s not sure, but Finn thinks that he talks to Poe then. It makes his heart ache when he realizes, like a black hole in his chest weighing him down and sucking him into unfathomable depths of despair, because reality quickly sets in and he is talking to thin air.

He misses Poe. He wishes, more than anything, to hear his laugh, to have a conversation with him about the weather or something trivial, to hug his husband or hold his hand. He misses the warmth of his embrace, and he remembers the comfort that came along with it, but Finn remains cold and alone. Unreachable by design, by space and depression and grief.

Finn will heal by himself, first. He will experience every part of this pain, and that’s how it will be. The tide must swell before it can recede.

In the beginning, beautiful things do not inspire him to live. The sun shines after rain, and Finn thinks to himself that he would be at peace, if he rejoined the Force at this moment. He wouldn’t be without Poe any longer. That would be good. That would be easier.

So he waits to do just that. It has been so long since he’s lived without his family that Finn doesn’t expect to last long without them. He settles down on a small farm by the seaside, and a boy from a local village brings him food every week. He spends most of his days reading or watching the waves crash on the rocks below him.

Finn waits to die and he waits for the grief to lessen in the meantime. It follows him wherever he goes; it is his only companion, aside from a lonely droid and a child who doesn’t ever stay for longer than five minutes.

He misses his children. They are insistent on finding him, on visiting at the very least, but Finn declines every offer. He doesn’t want them to see another parent waste away, or for them to be pulled under by his grief. It is better, for everyone, that he is alone.

Finn weeps more during that period than he ever has before in his life. It hits him suddenly, making his knees weak and crumbling his resolve. He falls to the ground, hands covering his mouth to muffle the sobs. No one is there to hear him, but the sobs fight their way out anyway, and they always stop too soon, before any true release of sorrow can occur.

The beach, which is mostly jagged pebbles scattered below the cliff where he lives, is where Finn goes when he ventures to leave the house. He wonders, more than anything, if Poe would have liked it here, if they could have settled down here like they did on Yavin IV. It rains a lot here, too, but the air is dry instead of humid, and the air tastes perpetually of salt. Crickets still sing him to sleep every night, but they are joined by the rhythm of waves against the shore.

Finn likes this, though he thinks his husband would have never quite adjusted to this change. It’s peaceful here, but noisier than Yavin. It’s colder too, which Poe had never enjoyed.

Had never. Poe, in the past tense. This is easier to accept than the reality it belies. Now, he is away from the empty house and the grave. The only evidence of his loss is grief and memory, so perhaps this is why Finn thinks that maybe, just maybe, he could fly back home and find Poe waiting for him.

It is three months before Finn realizes: he is waiting for Poe. If he died, he would be reunited with him; if the grief disappeared, it could only mean a reunion. He is waiting for what may never come.

And he lives. And the grief never goes away.

Something like spring happens, half a cycle into his stay. The boy tells him in broken Basic that this means more rain, which Finn is surprised to discover is possible after endless days of downpour. After this comes planting season, which Finn surmised after living on a farming moon, with his husband who was raised on a farm. The boy laughs at him when he says this. Finn smiles for the first time in months.

It rains, and Finn lies in bed, wrapped in the blankets he brought from home, listening to the torrent against the roof. The cadence is different; the roof here is simple and stone, but if he closes his eyes, he can nearly imagine that he’s on Yavin, that Poe is beside him and they’re enjoying a lazy afternoon together.

This type of thinking hurts more than it heals. It happens on the nights that Finn cries himself to sleep. He longs for the past and impossible comforts, and the gaping hole in his chest widens.

His heart is dead weight in his chest, and it is cruel that he lives. There is nothing to live for. His family is strong enough to mourn him and live, and he has already shaped the galaxy into a place for them to thrive. There is nothing left for him in a universe devoid of his soulmate.

The boy and his family are harvesting the first of their crops. In addition to the plain bread and simple staples delivered to him at the beginning of the week, Finn receives a bag of purple berries and some other orange vegetables. He thanks the boy, who cites his mother, so Finn passes his thanks to the whole family. The next week, even more are entrusted to him, and Finn gains the impression that they have a surplus. When he grumbles that he’s only one person, that he can’t possibly eat this much, and that his droid can’t be expected to help him eat, the boy laughs at him again. Finn realizes he hasn’t talked to him beyond a brief thanks every week and a passing conversation once or twice. BB-8 is often powered down, too. It’s been a long time since Finn has heard laughter, or held a conversation.

He’s brought some sort of sweet bread the next week, made from the purple berries. Finn’s never had it before. It’s odd, to have lived so long and to still learn new things, especially in a place so lonely and from a being so young.

He asks the boy his name before he goes. It’s Becke, and he’s eight (this information seems attached to his introduction). Finn hadn’t known before. He hadn’t asked when he first arrived, only inquired to Becke’s mother if she knew anyone who could bring him groceries. She had nodded, and gestured to the blonde boy reluctantly holding her hand. He spoke the best Basic out of their family, and he needed to get out of her house more often.

Becke smiles at him, most of his teeth missing. It reminds him of a young girl, and her children that kept her parents and grandparents perpetually exhausted. Finn understands why his mother appointed him to this task.

Becke leaves that week, and this time, he hollers his goodbye over his shoulder as he retreats.

Finn smiles again.

Summer and fall mean that Finn is stuffed with fresh harvestables. Becke tells him about his afternoons helping on the farm, in short, slowly extracted sentences. Sometimes Becke comes in chattering (or complaining) about the work, and sometimes, Finn dares to ask a few questions. A rounded conversation takes a month and a half, but they both readily accept this pace. It’s enough for the attention span of an eight-year-old talking to an old man and the old man in question.

Becke talks about his family, and what he’s learning in school. It’s menial, yet Finn cares in the way that kind people do when a child talks. There are concerns and viewpoints only applicable through the eyes of a child, and it’s simpler than loneliness and pain, and one day, Becke spends an hour showing Finn his attempts at juggling with the fruit he brought that morning. He’s not exceptionally good at it, but Finn encourages him, and it is the lightest he’s felt since before Poe died.

The next week, Becke invites him to dinner with his family. Finn declines, but the week after that, another invitation is extended. He accepts.

Their communication is limited, but gestures and fragments of sentences are enough. They get by; Finn learns that Becke’s father and two older brothers have the same sense of humor as the boy- there is laughter to be found in even the most miserable of circumstances. Finn finds it hard to complain around them, especially when Becke’s mother, Ola, keeps loading his plate up with food, even once Finn starts protesting that it’s too much for him. The other men laugh, and Becke’s father tells him that no one can resist his wife’s will. So, he will be fed, and fed well.

By fall, Finn regularly makes the trek to their house for dinners. He helps Becke with his homework. Ola herself visits Finn, and the next afternoon, Becke arrives with cleaning supplies. Suddenly, Finn is not just looked after, he is cared for. He laughs and he talks, and he does not have to think of the grief and the pain.

He lives.

Sunset on the ocean is one of the most beautiful things Finn has ever seen. Orange light weaves through the tall grass on the edge of the cliffs and turns the water below golden. The skies fill with purple and pink clouds, mingling to create colors Finn has never dreamed of before.

He hopes, every evening, that he lives to see the next day’s magnificent sunset.

Finn knows that he could stay here forever, that he may live to see Becke grow into a man, that Ola will cook and clean and feed him until the end of his days. He is happy there, after thinking that he could never be happy again. There are simple and wonderful things, and Finn enjoys them all.

But as Becke gets older, and as the years pass, Finn thinks of his own grandchildren, how they must be growing and learning. They are without their Abuelo and their grandpa, and he does not get to see or know them.

If Finn returns, he will be reunited with those he loves most in the universe.

He will also have to face an old life, one that should have Poe in it but does no longer.

The choice is neither quick nor sudden. Becke is twelve; Finn is happy worlds away from Yavin.

But there is more. He misses his children’s laughter and the light of his grandkids. He misses his home and the richness of life in the jungle. He misses Rey and her eternal optimism, her smile.

He is not complete without these things. Infrequent, broken calls are not enough.

If he was meant to outlive Poe, then Finn must face that. He will do it, at last, with his family at his side.

Becke and Finn both weep when he leaves. He’d planned to do so on a sunny afternoon, but became delayed by last-minute repairs, so he hugs Becke and his family goodbye as the sun wavers just above the horizon. Its dying sunbeams illuminate Becke’s face, then the boy scrubs the tears off his cheeks. Finn manages one last goodbye before boarding his ship, and he watches the small family wave goodbye before they go, flying low towards the sunset before taking off to the stars.

He contacts his eldest first and tells her that he’s coming home. She breaks down in tears over the call, and promises to meet him on Yavin. They’ve missed him, she says, and they’re glad he’s coming home.

His children- three out of four who could make it in time- are waiting outside his house. They embrace him, holding him tight, and Finn does his best not to cry too excessively. He’s welcomed home, which matters most, and they’re glad to see him.

It hurts, to be back in the hastily dusted house. There are holos of Poe on the walls. His youngest son has Poe’s mannerisms; his youngest daughter has his same cheeky smile.

But he loves them, and it’s worth the pain.

He and the brunt of the grief are together again; he’s only a few klicks away from where Poe is buried. His children cling to his hands, and ask him how he is. BB-8 explains all of what he can of their absence, and when it’s Finn’s turn, all he can say is that he couldn’t stay.

Their acceptance of this fact hinges on Finn’s promises that eventually, he was happy. He was cared for and not truly alone. He came back to them.

His eldest corners Finn and tells him, with her jaw firmly set, that they missed him and in some ways, they lost both of their fathers at once. Finn bows his head and apologizes, but he could not stay. Without Poe, he had to learn to live again. He had to want to live again, and he couldn’t do that while so haunted by loss.

She doesn’t understand, not fully, but she accepts this and tells him she’s glad he’s home. He is too, and the joy of being back with his family overpowers the grief.

It’s storming, hours later, when they hear Rey arrive. She barges through the door, drenched, and wraps her arms around Finn, tears shining in her eyes. She missed him and she loves him, she murmurs, then she pulls back and offers him a watery smile

Finn had forgotten how much her presence lights up a room. Yavin hums with an energy that he has not felt in many years, and it rushes over Finn in excited waves. He can sense all the life nearby, from the frogs in the trees and the vines in the jungle, all the way to the tree standing over his husband’s and his parents’ graves.

There is beauty and life and death and pain. Finn can feel it all, and he knows it well. It’s pervasive throughout his life and his family and his home.

It’s a part of him and part of everything, and Finn understands. It will ache inside his chest then destroy him, and finally build him back up. Finn understands that he lives and will die loving and missing Poe.

But this is not the end.

“Picture a wave. In the ocean. You can see it, measure it, its height, the way the sunlight refracts when it passes through. And it's there. And you can see it, you know what it is. It's a wave. And then it crashes in the shore and it's gone. But the water is still there. The wave was just a different way for the water to be, for a little while. You know it's one conception of death for Buddhists: the wave returns to the ocean, where it came from and where it's supposed to be.” -The Good Place

#peep the hmp kids lol #finnpoe #finn #stormpilot #stormpilot fanfiction #stormpilot headcanons #stormpilot fanfic #finnpoe fanfic #finnpoe fanfiction #finnpoe headcanons #finnpoe imagine #stormpilot imagine #poe dameron #finn x poe #angst #star wars #Star Wars fanfic #star wars fanfiction

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cl-01-kestis · 4 years ago

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My Little Rebel - Inquisitor!Cal Kestis x Female Rebel!Reader | Part 7

Summary: You’re lost in the scrapyards of Bracca but you’re determined to discover the secrets of the planet and your undiscovered past.

Warnings: None

You sat still for hours after witnessing the vision of the Padawan and her master, thoughts raced through your mind and you had to take many moments trying to collect your thoughts. Your heart pounded in shock, you rubbed your temples to soothe the headache that was splitting your head in half and trying not to break down crying out of confusion.

That was you in the vision, you were certain. But you had absolutely no recollection what so ever of even being involved with any Jedi, nevermind training as one yourself. You don’t remember your past, all you ever knew was the Rebellion, nothing else, nothing more. You couldn’t shake off the feeling of familiarity you had when you held Cal’s lightsaber though, and the wound on your hand. Somehow when you woke back up from the vision, it was a scar once again and the blood was all gone. The rolled up poncho was still wrapped tightly around your hand but there was no bleeding and no more pain.

You were determined to find something new, you wanted to learn more about what you saw. You were once a Jedi, how could you not remember? Questions upon questions flourished in your mind and it done nothing for your deafening headache. You got back on track after ages of being trapped in your own thoughts, you journeyed forth to find the next purple hue of force with the lightsaber tight in your hand, claimed itself as yours.

You felt a strange connection to the lightsaber, it was like the force wanted you to have it. It had gone so long without an owner and it had been in the dark for Maker knows how many years.

During your time wandering around the scrapyards, you’ve continued having random visions even if there’s no purple hue or voice calling to you. It started happening randomly ever since you picked up the saber and saw yourself as a little girl. Strange things were happening and you weren’t sure how to feel or react towards it. You weren’t scared or petrified, of anything you were pretty calm at the fact you discovered you had a past as a Padawan.

Moments after you scrambled up a steep mechanical ramp, chest heaving and hair damp with sweat and oil from dripping towers of shipwrecks and pieces, your transmitter bleeped on your wrist and for the first time in days, you finally weren’t alone.

“(Y/N), I don’t know if you remember me, I’m Cere, listen we don’t have much time but you need to get off Bracca now, the Ninth Sister and Eleventh Brother have found your location-“ The voice of a long lost friend emerged out of your transmitter and you snapped out of your daze. Cere Junda, what a surprise. The last time you heard from her you were just starting out at the Rebel base on Yavin and your memory was wiped. Cere reminded you a lot of a mother, she was there for you when your own wasn’t.

But then you were confused all of a sudden, Cal was with Trilla Suduri? Why?

“Why are they looking for me?” You asked impatiently, looking around in fear they’d be behind you or were nearby.

“You’re a Jedi, they can sense your presence. (Y/N), we have a lot to talk about but you need to move now” Cere said in a stern voice.

“Where are you located?” You asked.

“Look behind you”.

Your head whipped around and in the distance, there was a ship hovering above the scrapyards, waiting for you.

“But- my friends-“ You stuttered.

“We’ve alerted them on the situation, don’t worry” Cere replied quickly.

You started fleeting towards the ship, unsheathing the lightsaber to avoid any accidents as you hopped over and ducked under multiple mechanic parts. You knew you had to hurry, there was a storm coming and you heard the faint distant echo of a howling Tie fighter, two in fact.

Cere was standing on the open ramp of the ship, holding her arm out as much and as safely as she could, trying not to lose her balance as you finally got close enough and jumped up to grab her hand. Cere pulled you up with as much strength as possible, grunting and falling back on the ramp as she successfully pulled you up onto the ramp and helped you up and into the ship as quickly as she could.

“Captain, now!”

Your heart was racing, you clung on to your lightsaber as you got inside the ship and collapsed onto the floor. You hadn’t been inside a ship for days, it felt nice being away from the scrapyards.

You were covered in muck, your skin and hair dirty with grime and oil. Your clothes were muddy and dark, shades much more darker than what they used to be before you started the mission. You smelled of metal, polish, oil, Earth, and rain. Not a very pleasant smell, but currently you were too bewildered to really care about yourself.

The ship dashed off into the sky and into hyperspace, not wasting a single moment. You stayed on the ground, holding your head with one hand and the other your lightsaber. Cere bent down and rested a comforting hand on your shoulder, her eyes showing worry as if she was a mother that was reunited with her long lost child.

“Are you alright?” Was her approach, sitting down next to you on the ground and bending down to see your face. You swallowed the lump in your throat and looked up, happiness filling your heart once your eyes met the familiar warm cocoa ones that belonged to your old friend.

“Yeah... I’m okay” You breathed out, your chest still heaving up and down. You looked around the ship curiously, feeling a bit out of place compared to the clean spotless environment of the ship you were currently in.

“Sorry for catching you so off guard, we couldn’t risk being spotted by the Inquisitors” Cere reasoned, looking over to the cockpit to see a Latero male making his way over, a pair of his arms crossed whereas the other were down at his sides.

“Whatever you do, please do not sit on the sofa, takes ages trying to get oil staines out of it” The Latora said in a not so welcoming yet not so threatening voice. You didn’t feel intimidated by him, you just simply nodded and hesitantly raised a hand out for him to shake, might as well make a good first impression.

“I’m (Y/N)” You mumbled, smiling at the Latora who rolled his eyes and shook your hand firmly with one of his free hands, smiling back since you’d made an effort to introduce yourself to him.

“Greez Dritus” He replied, letting your hand go and walking back to the cockpit so he could get the ship out of hyperspace. You looked back to Cere once Greez was out of sight and wasted no time to bring her into a tight embrace, your head buried in her neck. Cere chuckled at your sudden show of affection and hugged you back, stroking your damp hair and closing her eyes, enjoying the moment. She hadn’t been hugged in so long, it felt almost foreign to her.

“It’s relieving to have a friendly face around again” You smiled, pulling away from her and earning yourself a smile in return as Cere nodded in agreement.

“Certainly is. Now, I need to speak with you about that lightsaber” Cere looked down at your left hand, looking almost reluctant as you raised it up and nodded your head.

“Where did you find it?” She asked curiously, you crossed your legs and your boots squeaked against the metal flooring of the ship. You held the lightsaber in both of your hands and sighed.

“It all happened to fast Cere, I- there was a light, and when I touched it I saw a vision, a vision of me as a Jedi. None of this makes sense, I don’t even remember anything about my childhood- I’m scared, Cere” Your voice cracked but you weren’t emotional, you were just frightened. Your childhood was a fragment of your memory that had always been missing. You never had a mother or father, or siblings or grandparents. You didn’t even remember your friends.

Cere looked at you for a brief moment as if she was trying to understand what was going on in your head, she pursed her lips and opened her mouth to speak up, but you could sense the reluctance and you saw how hesitant she was in what she was about to say.

“I think it’s about time you knew... when the Purge was executed, your Master Shaak Ti, removed your memory and raced them with false ones, then put you in my care. She wanted you to be safe, she felt as though she couldn’t protect you and it seemed to be the only option. I’m sorry you had to find out this way, (Y/N)” Cere said with pity in her voice. Her words echoed in your mind and you stared off into the distance with your eyebrows furrowed and mouth open slightly.

“So my mother being a mechanic... was lies? M-my father as well?” You stuttered nervously, hands shaking and eyes pricking with tears as you looked at Cere, desperate for an answer.

“That was true, but the mother you remember wasn’t your real one. Your real mother died in childbirth and the woman you do remember brought you up as her own. As for your father, he died long before you were born” Cere answered truthfully, her eyes held sympathy for you but you weren’t sure if you wanted it or not. Your heart felt so heavy, you needed to clear your head.

“This is a lot” You sighed, rubbing your temple and trying to calm the ache developing in your head.

“It would be best if you tried meditating, connect to the past” Cere suggested, taking your hand and standing up. You followed her actions and wobbled onto your feet, like a newborn Bantha taking It’s first steps. Cere lead you to the back of the ship where you guessed the rooms were. You were lead to the back one where a small single bed sat as well as a cabinet and lamp.

“I know it’s not much, but it’s better than sleeping in those scrapyards I hope” Cere joked, you smiled at her and nodded before sitting down on the surprisingly comfortable bed and shuffling around on it to get comfy.

“So... how do I do it?” You asked cluelessly, placing your lightsaber down on the cabinet and away from reach so it wouldn’t accidentally end up igniting and hurting someone. Cere sat down next to you and told you to cross your legs, you removed your boots and done as she said.

“Listen to me carefully, remember, this is your first time so if you don’t get it right, that’s completely okay” Cere assured you kindly, making you feel slightly better as your hands rested on your knees and you listened to her every word.

“Close your eyes” You done as she said, inhaling deeply and letting your lids shut over until everything was black.

“Now... try and clear your thoughts; push out both negative and positive emotions, keep your head in a neutral mindset” You were clinging on to her every word, doing as she said with great caution and taking spaced out breaths to help with clearing your head.

You done as Cere asked and blocked both negative and positive so your mind was almost blank, the only thing existing inside of it was your wandering conscience.

“Good, now, open your mind and reach out to the force” Cere almost felt like she herself was meditating as she called out the instructions to you, her heart calm and head clear as she watched you try your best.

You thought she was crazy for a second, but then you remembered that in order to get to your past you had to do this. You had to reach out

Your mind was clear and you tried stretching it out in hopes you’d feel something. A strange aura surrounded you and you felt like the room was completely empty. No cere, not even you. You didn’t feel like you were in the room anymore. You felt like you were floating in space, your body light weight as you drifted off to wherever the force took you. You accomplished reaching out to it, now you had to find what you were eager to know.

You opened your eyes to find that you weren’t in front of Cere anymore or even on the ship. You were a current conscience in your head and you somehow managed to wake up in a strange realm of the force where mostly everything was white and unrecognisable. Your surroundings were blank, but you weren’t physically there, you knew this place had a purpose.

Looking around, you spotted multiple purple hues like the ones from earlier, surrounding you at all angles and hovering abode nothing as they awaited your eager hands. You walked over to the closest one, crouching down and trustfully slipping your hand into the hue, closing your eyes and feeling yourself be taken to a new time period.

You were suddenly on the ground, eyes still closed but a bright light was shining down on you. It felt like you were on a padded ground, slightly cushioned but not enough to bounce on. You pulled yourself up, opening your eyes and noticing you were im completely different attire. You were in Jedi robes, your hair was shorter and a small plait trailed down your left shoulder.

“Try again Padawan, your emotions will get in the way of many things, do not let it stop you by filling your head with doubt” You looked up to see a platform much more high up than you currently were. A tall Togrota woman dressed in beautiful orange toned robes stood on the edge and watched you with a calm, serene expression.

“Yes master” You said, your voice more squeaky than you remembered.

The wall shifted and created a complex obstacle course for you to complete, consisting of wall runs, wall climbs, double jumps and lots of upper strength. A sudden rush of determination came over you and you sprinted towards a levitating platform that lead to a wall run. You skidded a bit on the wall but managed to grab onto the next platform in time, or else you’d be falling to the ground and meet a fairly unpleasant injury. Pulling yourself up, you caught your breath before running as fast as you can to a railing on the side of another levitating platform. This time it was on its side, hovering up and down which made it a bit more tricky to grab onto it.

“Very good, Padawan” Shaak Ti praised, not yet congratulating you as she watched your small form clumsily glide through the obstacle course. You scurried up the railing and onto the top of the platform, huffing out short breaths as your face flushed with exhaustion, but you weren’t finished yet.

As you got onto the top of the platform, you noticed Master Plo Koon had arrived with his team of clones, the Wolffepack. Just as you were about to get excited, Shaak Ti waved out a platform for you to dodge and overcome.

“Concentrate, Padawan” She scolded in a warning tone, placing her hand down behind her back once more and consulting with Plo who watched you with interest, hoping you’d do well on your course. The clones watched as well with wide eyes as you ran across a few more walls and clambered up and double jumped a few platforms. You were visibly worn out, but Shaak could feel the energy in you. She admired it greatly and decided to outdraw the course a little bit longer to see if you could take what she could give you.

“Final assessment, Young Padawan” Shaak announced, watching you intently as she programmed more obstacles to appear from the floor and walls, even the ceilings. At the corner of your eye, you noticed that Commander Wolffe had dropped to one knee and aimed his blaster at you. Quickly, you grabbed your lightsaber and ignited it, balancing on a thin platform and smiling to him as you dodged each and every one of his hits. Wolffe stopped firing and aimed his gun up to avoid shooting anyone. He took his helmet off, looking almost like a proud father as you bowed to him and giggled.

The Wolffepack were proud that their little Padawan had come so far, it was as if only yesterday they met you as a 11 year old. Now, at 15, you were the strongest Padawan they knew and they were honoured to fight by your side.

“Not bad kid!” Wolffe exclaimed, his scarred eye winking and making you chuckle as the platforms formed to make a pathway for you to join your master and Plo at the top. You practically skipped up the way, excited at your accomplishment and walking to your master, a soft yet proud smile on her face.

“Well done, (Y/N), I am so pleased with your progress” Shaak spoke, cupping your cheek with her red hand and moving it to pat your shoulder gently.

“Congrats kid! We knew you’d smash it” Wolffe raised his hand up and you were quick to smash your own against it. The Wolffe pack surrounded you, congratulating you on your achievement and patting your back roughly. It wasn’t gentle as your masters but you didn’t mind, they were considered your family after all.

“Come on kid, let’s celebrate!”.

#jedi fallen order #jedi reader #x reader #star wars #cal kestis x reader #cal kestis x you #inquisitor

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the-blind-assassin-12 · 4 years ago

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Resol’nare - Part Four

A/N: Making jokes in tense situations is my coping mechanism and it is also Navina’s. And neither of us are funny under pressure. We sure do try though.

*this story will regularly be using words in Mando’a. for a good list of references click here.*

Summary: With Navina and Firo off to hit an abandoned Imperial base on Nevarro in hopes of scoring a hot new ride that won’t litter bolts all over the galaxy like the Flare will, and Mando responding to Cara’s holo about a beskar sighting, the stage is set for an introduction to remember... and hopefully not a bloody one.

Warnings: talk of death, violence, weapons, language

Word Count: 4.8k

Nevarro.

“You sure about this, Nav?” Firo peered through a pair of binocs, turning a dial on the side to zoom in. He had them pointed at the fenced off facility that they had cased out shortly after landing on the volcanic planet. Abandoned by the Empire twice now, the base, carved into the side of a cliff out past the lava flats, had still not been addressed by the New Republic. Although it was clear from their cursory recon that the place had taken some recent damage, it appeared as though it still housed plenty of small ships and speeders.

The plan had originally been to fly in on the Flare, Firo’s current ship, and set down on the landing pad. They’d discussed it first in the caves on Yavin, Firo sharing the location of the base and what limited information he had heard from a fellow smuggler over a game of Sabacc. Rumored to have no security detail, not even droids, they had figured that it would be an easy job. Load up the Flare and another small ship with a few speeders that they could sell on the black market, then split up, Firo in his ship and Navina in the one previously owned by the Empire. The goal was to be in and out and off of the planet so quickly that even if there were cameras or sensors on the base, they’d be long gone before anyone could turn up to stop them. And that had seemed completely feasible. Until now.

Plans have never really been my thing anyway. “I’m sure.” Besides, this might actually work out to my benefit...

Pulling the lenses away from his eyes, he turned to face her. “Even though the Marshal is-”

“Since when has a Marshal ever stopped us, Firo?” She shot him her cockiest smirk, casually crossing her ankles as she leaned her palm against the Flare’s hull. “Since when has-” Her friend gritted his teeth and tried to stop her, but it was too late. The panel she’d chosen to press her weight into gave under pressure, the metal creaking as it dented inwards sending Navina off balance. “Woah!” Firo sucked air through his teeth as he reached out to help her catch herself, but she brushed him off with a huff that he knew she had to work hard not to allow to turn into a laugh. “Alright, on an unrelated note, you need to have that looked at.” She pointed at the flimsy piece that upon closer inspection she realized had been poorly soldered on in an attempt to reinforce a previous repair. Shaking her head, she looked up at the ship and then back at Firo. “I can’t believe I got on this thing and flew here with you.”

“Hey!” He tried to keep a straight face too, but a snicker threatened to turn into a full blown snort if he didn’t let it out. “Alright, yeah, she needs some work.” That’s the understatement of the century. “Still beats taking a commuter shuttle though, Harsa,” he teased, knowing that she had had to put up with a series of shuttle transfers to get to Yavin from Coruscant, and that it was her least favorite way to travel the galaxy.

“Not if she falls apart the second you make the jump to hyperspace,” she teased back. He couldn’t come up with anything quickly enough, so she steered the conversation back to the task at hand. “But as I was saying, we’ve always been able to get around the Marshals we’ve come across. We’ll just have to... “ She shrugged. “Improvise.” With that, she turned and headed around the back of the ship to climb the ramp. Taking a large step up as the ramp no longer opened all the way, she sighed. This ship is a kriffing disaster.

“Improvise?” Firo followed her around and hoisted himself up onto the ramp as she started rifling through her bag to gather what she would need. He crossed his arms and tilted his head, watching as she pulled two comm links from an inner compartment.

Navina blew into one of them, then tapped the receiving end to make sure it was still in working order. “Yeah,” she said, tossing it to him with a grin. He snatched it out of the air and tucked it into the front pocket of his pants. “Improvise.” She checked the second comm link, giving it a shake for good measure before hiding it away under her shawl.

Firo waited for her to look back up at him to respond. “We are pretty good at that.”

“Good? Who’s better?” She asked with a wink, turning back to her bag to dig out her armor. “Remember that time on Onderon?” She pulled out a purple painted shoulder pauldron, untwisting the leather straps that were used to keep it in place. “When we-”

“Nav?” He cut her off then, walking completely through the doorway to stand in front of her, and she knew instantly that he was concerned. She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth and set the second pauldron on top of the first one, the durasteel clinking softly. With a sigh, he went on, green-gold eyes narrowing briefly and his lips turning down into a slight frown. “I know there’s... something you’re not telling me.”

She stiffened, a sudden wave of guilt making her wince. He’s right. There was a lot she hadn’t told him, and while she had reasoned that the less he knew about some of her plans the safer he’d be, she also knew better than to think that he wouldn’t be able to tell when she was being withholding. He knows me better than anyone, of course he knows that I’m… that something’s… “Firo, I-”

“Look,” he placed a hand on her shoulder, gently turning her the rest of the way so that he could look straight at her as he spoke. “I didn’t want to say anything on Yavin, because I know that,” his forehead furrowed and he swallowed as he dropped his arm back to his side. “I know... what time of the year it is. I know that,” he shook his head and dropped his chin. “I know you were hoping that…dank farrik.”

He knew that she was hoping that this would be the year that she would be reunited with her father and the little one. Navina’s mother was gone, that was a fact, but the rest of her family was a mystery. He knew that she only allowed herself those three days to hope that they were still alive, because the last time that they had seen each other they had agreed on a designated time each year that they would return to Yavin 4, the last place they had called home, if it were safe for them to do so. She and her mother had missed the first few years, the need to stay hidden keeping them from being able to make the trip. At that time her parents were still able to at least transmit the occasional holo, and while she wanted nothing more than to be able to see her father and the child that she affectionately called verd’ika, she understood, even then, that their hiding was necessary. This is the Way. She could remember thinking it even then, could hear her own small voice repeating the words back to her mother, the two of them tucking their hopes away for another year.

Twenty three years later, she was still packing and unpacking that hope, the thing riddled with creases and worn thin along the folds. She knew that the odds weren’t good that her family was still alive, or if they were, that they hadn’t been captured or separated. Regardless, every year she gave herself three days to air that hope, to go home and wait for them to join her there. But this year was no different from the last one. They’re- she squeezed her eyes shut against the word. No. She wouldn’t even think the word until she had confirmation.

Ni partayli, gar darasuum. I remember you, so you are eternal. As the phrase played in her head, she reached under the cowl of her shawl for the pendant around her neck, squeezing it until she could feel the tusks digging into her palm and then running her finger around the rim of one carved eye, nail scratching against the hard, faceted stone that had been set inside. I remember.

And she had been remembering so much lately, the flashes from the night they had fled Concordia coming much more clearly than ever before. It made no sense to her that she would suddenly be able to recall clips of dialogue or images of faces with increasing ease as more time passed, but for the last few months that had been the case. And then when Firo had found her father’s kal, it had been too simple to give in to the time-worn hope, too tempting to see it as a sign. But it had obviously been there the whole time, she told herself, despite the fact that it wasn’t obvious at all.

She hadn’t told Firo about the increased power or frequency with which the amethyst tinted memories were coming to her, but that wasn’t all she was keeping from him, and it was the second omission that she truly felt guilty about. He was extremely gracious in granting her whatever level of secrecy or privacy she wanted or needed when it came to her family and the closure that she longed for there. While he knew she didn’t truly consider herself to be a Mandalorian as she’d never sworn the Creed or been fitted for her own armor, he understood that she still held fast to the traditions and beliefs that she was raised on; that her clan - her aliit, one of the few Mando’a words that Firo had picked up through the years, and one that Navina thought was appropriate for him, always looking at him as a brother of sorts - was bonded together indelibly, and that she’d never turn her back on that bond.

The guilt she felt was in no way related to her family or Yavin or her memories. It was in regards to what she’d heard in the lower levels of Coruscant, the city under the city at the center of the galaxy. A rumor, but one she’d been chasing for a long time, had caught her attention, and she couldn’t let it go until she’d seen it through, and it was for that reason that she was insistent upon going through with their plan to hit the abandoned base. Yes, she needed a ship. Firo could do with a new one, too, honestly. But she also needed to know if what she’d heard was true- that the Darksaber had changed hands once more… but that it had once more eluded both of the women who sought it most fiercely, herself, so that she could destroy it, and Bo-Katan of House Kryze, the radical who at one point plotted to overthrow her own sister for the Mandalorian throne. And if it is true, if it’s no longer in Imperial hands… I need to know who has it now.

While she didn’t know the exact location of it, Navina knew that there had been, until recently, a Mandalorian covert here on Nevarro. She had no idea how large their numbers were, only that there had been a very violent standoff with the Imperial remnant who’s base she and Firo were about to loot. But the most interesting part of the rumors that she had collected in her travels from the Core Worlds to the Outer Rim, was that the New Republic’s Marshal stationed there had been linked to a Mandalorian- to the Mandalorian that the Imps had been targeting. So when she saw the woman with the badge pinned to her belt and the heavy blaster rifle she carried with absolute confidence, it had the exact opposite effect that that sort of deterrent would have on anyone else. I need to know. She sighed, binging one hand up to her forehead and pushing it back over her scalp. She grabbed the base of her long, thick braid and followed it down to the end, pulling it as she looked back up at her friend. But he needs to know, too.

“Firo, it’s…”

“It’s about that damn saber, isn’t it?” He raised one eyebrow in a high arch, and her stunned silence paired with the stupefied expression she knew she was wearing answered for her. “Yeah,” he nodded. “I know. You get…” he squinted at her, “you act differently when you have a lead on something about your family or that kriffing sword.”

“Firo,” she reached for his arms, her hands cuffing around his biceps to emphasize how important this was to her. “That kriffing sword is what-”

Bending his elbows, he grabbed her hands and pulled them down, not angrily but forcefully, holding her wrists as he spoke. “I know. I know what you… how you feel about it and about what it stands for and… and the part it played in…” He clamped his eyes shut then, but before he did she noticed how prominent the golden flecks in them were. He’s nervous. Of the two of them, Firo was absolutely more likely to worry when it came to her safety. She flinched, knowing that she had given him plenty of reasons to throughout the span of their friendship. The scrapes that he typically got himself into were almost always easy enough to weasel him out of with a little careful negotiation or a generous bribe. The spots she found herself in however, usually resulted in drawn blasters and blades. He let out a breath and released his grip on her wrists. “Nav, I just need to know you’re not gonna get yourself killed.”

She clicked her tongue, trying to lighten the mood. “Come on, Firo, I’m a hard woman to kill. I have the-”

“The scars to prove it,” he finished the second part of her sentence in unison with her, rolling his eyes. “I know. I’m trying to be serious here, Harsa.”

“I know.” She said it quietly, blinking up at him as his hard frown softened. “I’m sorry, Firo, I should have told you what I was…” she shook her head, the end of her braid bouncing behind her. “I should have told you that I knew about…” she groaned, leaning forward until her forehead met his chest.

To her surprise she felt it rumble as he chuckled. Huh? He’s… laughing? She picked her head up, a confused look on her face. “Apologizing is really rough for you, isn’t it?”

With that she let out a laugh of her own. “Only with you though, isn’t that strange?” She winked at him, swatting at his stomach.

“Very strange indeed,” he agreed, intercepting her swat and pushing her hand away. “Alright. So we’re improvising. What have you got so far?”

Her grin climbed her cheeks then, and she laid out her new plot. “Not going to get myself killed, Firo. Just captured.”

Less than an hour later they were prepped and ready to put their backup plan into action. Navina removed her gray shawl, strapping her purple chestplate and pauldrons to the black flak vest she wore over her short sleeved black top. Next she wrapped her wrists in padded black fabric and slid the vambraces over them. The left one was utterly useless in terms of weaponry; it appeared as though at one point it was equipped with whistling birds, but the mechanism had been damaged by the previous owner and now its only use was protection. But it’s beskar, so it’s worth wearing. The right one still had a functioning flamethrower, though it was low on fuel, and a grappling line, though it had snared the last time she tried to deploy it so she made a mental note not to count on it cooperating this time either. Holstering her blaster on her thigh, she took her father’s beskar kal from her bag, attaching the sheath she had made for it on the trip to Nevarro to her belt. The last piece of armor she donned was her mother’s helmet, the traditional “T” shaped visor smashed along the eyeline, but the modulator and audio features still in working order.

“Well look at you, Nav, you look like a real live Mando if I ever saw one.” You haven’t, bantha brain. “I like the,” he grasped his right wrist with his left hand, a quizzical look coming over his face as he tried to search for the right word. “Those things.”

Firo had armed himself as well, a pair of blasters on his hips, a small knife in his boot, and a handful of different blaster cartridges on his bandolier that he could switch out for different effects if necessary. Navina felt a knot twist in her stomach though as she remarked not for the first time that he wore no armor at all, nothing to protect him but his speed if triggers were pulled down there. We’ve got to change that if this is the type of thing we’re going to be doing.

“Alright,” she let out a breath and locked her eyes with his through her broken visor. “Last chance to back out. This is my thing, you don’t have to be involved if you-”

“Would you knock it off already?” He tapped the side of her helmet softly, the action causing her to snort as she recalled the first time he’d bopped her on the head while she was wearing the beskar helmet, and how he had nearly broken his hand. “You ready?” She nodded. I am. “Okay. Let’s go get you captured I guess.” Grumbling under his breath about how he had a feeling that he was going to regret this, he walked down the ramp, hopping off the edge where it dangled a foot or two from the ground. She followed on his heels, smiling to herself.

Since they were changing the plan, they were no longer flying the Flare down to the base’s landing pad, as only one of them- Firo- would be flying out. Instead they left the dilapidated ship where it was and headed for the entrance furthest from where the Marshal and the man she had with her were stationed. Navina would hold them off, distracting them while Firo made his way up to the landing pad to make off with a ship, and then hopefully, after she found out what she needed to know and got herself out of whatever lockup situation the New Republic’s Marshals instituted on Nevarro, she’d rendezvous with him here where the Flare was waiting, and they would head for some place where they could lay low for a week or two. They had their comm links in case they needed to contact one another after they separated. But Navina had a good feeling about how this was going to go. She kept that to herself though, sure that Firo would have some snarky comment about how her good feelings were almost always bad portents.

As they neared the edge of the cliff face that had been providing them cover, Navina reached out and stopped Firo in his tracks. “Promise me you’ll bail if I tell you to.”

“Uh oh,” he joked. “You have a good feeling, don’t you?”

“Firo,” she groaned. “I mean it. Promise me if I tell you to leave you will. I-”

“I promise, Nav.” He acquiesced then, giving the tail of her braid a slight tug where it stuck out from the bottom of her helmet. “Now, let’s go.”

She nodded, and with that, they split, both heading off in different directions- Firo towards the secondary entrance that they’d found on their initial recon mission a few days back, and Navina straight towards the waiting Marshal. She glanced back over her shoulder as she reached the last of the small boulders she was darting between for cover, and seeing Firo’s boots disappear through the door, she took a deep breath and ran.

“What’s the town to do with the law this far out on the flats?” Navina projected her voice over the empty space as she rounded the corner, making for where she knew the two temporary sentinels were waiting.

But the second she got close, a third figure stepped into view, one that halted her in her tracks. Dank. Farrik. She raised her hands, palms facing outwards, as the sharp end of a long beskad stopped just shy of her helmet. Holding it was the most imposing Mandalorian she had ever laid eyes on. The man wasn’t much taller than she was, but the stance he took, the way that he held his body and his weapon would have been enough for her to know that he was a formidable fighter. On top of that, he was covered head to toe in beskar armor more pure and pristine than she knew to exist. The sword in his gloved hand was just the first that she noticed of what she now realized were many weapons- a blaster, spear, and vibroblade all visible, plus whatever devices he had installed on his vambraces. And that’s just what I can see. A Mandalorian like this one was liable to have at least four more weapons concealed. A Mando like this is a weapon.

The Marshal and the the older man that had been waiting with her- as bait, Navina realized too late- stepped up behind the Mandalorian, the woman speaking. “You got this from here, Mando? I’m gonna go check out what her friend is up to inside.” Navina scowled at the woman who gave her a condescending look before the man answered.

“Sure. I can take care of her. Take Karga with you.” He hadn’t turned away from Navina, and he hadn’t lowered his weapon. His voice, though modulated through his helmet, sounded calm and even, and she knew that while it likely offered some of his prey a false sense of comfort, she knew better. The Marshal and the other man didn’t hesitate to do as he said, the woman telling him to call for her if she needed him. He won’t, Navina fumed at her retreating figure.

Neither of them said anything until the other two were out of sight, and all Navina could do was hope that Firo was running through the base at top speed. He just needs to get off of the pad, get out of here and then he’s-

“Are you a Mandalorian?” He asked the question as he slid the end of his blade up onto the curve of the armor on her left shoulder, the beskar sword scraping a long divot into the top layer of painted durasteel with a sharp shing.

She let her eyes flick down to where the blade sat without moving her head, hands still in front of her. Stall. Give Firo more time to get out. The blade had only cut through the outer shell of her pauldron, but he had barely used any force at all and she knew she had to answer carefully because one wrong word or uncalculated move would cost her more than the time needed to repair her armor. He’ll chop my arm clean off with that thing. “That depends on who you ask,” she raised her eyes back up to where his would be if she could see them, noticing a sculpted signet in the shape of a mudhorn on his own shoulder piece.

“I’m asking you,” he answered, tone shedding some of its evenness as with the quick turn of his wrist the blade slipped between her pauldron and flak vest, slicing it off in one fluid motion. “And I want an answer. Are you a Mandalorian? Did you swear the Creed?”

Loud bangs coming from the landing pad above them told her that Firo was almost home free. Just a few more seconds. “I was never given the chance to. My clan was attacked when I was a child.” Honesty seemed the best course of action at this point. Though she was a skilled fighter, Navina knew when she was outmatched and outgunned.

“Your armor,” he nodded his head in her direction then, the first move he’d made that hadn’t been to slice her pauldron to pieces. “How did you come by it if it wasn’t made for you?”

“Took the pauldrons and chest piece from a trooper,” she stated, though she knew that was the least of his cares. “These?” she raised her wrists up higher, “these I stole from a back ally trader. You want ‘em? They’re yours.” He nodded again, and she mirrored the gesture, glancing up to the pad as the rumbling sound of thrusters preparing to take off told her that Firo was going to make it out safely. Good. That’s all that… all that matters. She slowly pulled the vambraces from her wrists, tossing them at the Mandalorian’s feet. “They’re busted and they don’t fit, so by all means.”

“Your helmet.” He demanded.

“Now that I will not be parting with,” she told him, trying to muster up all of the evenness that she could.

“It looks like pure beskar.” It wasn’t a question.

“It is. It’s the only piece of pure beskar I own, aside from,” she pointed to her belt with one hand, the other still suspended in the air between them. He nodded his approval for her to pull the kal from the sheath. “Aside from this.” Holding the dagger out for him to see, she brought it slowly up to his beskad and clanged them together, the sound ringing out and making it clear to both of them that both blades were entirely pure. “And I won’t be giving you either of them, Mando.” Sheathing her kal again, she brought that same hand up to her chest, digging under the flimsy armor and pulling out her mother’s mythosaur necklace. “They belonged to my parents, and if you want them you’re going to have to kill me.”

At the sight of the pendant he lowered his weapon and cocked his head to the side. “The Mythosaur… but what is, why is there…”

Navina looked down at the pendant in her hand then, the stone visible in its eyes seeming to glow a fierce shade of purple. She sucked in a breath as she brought her other hand up to cover it, thinking that it was just the harsh Nevarro sun that was causing it to shine more brightly than it ever had before. But when shaded by her other palm the purple light seemed only to shine brighter. “It’s never… it’s never done that before, never so…”

Just then a comm link clicked in the Mandalorian’s pocket, and he pulled it out, pressing the button on the side. “Cara,” he spoke the woman’s name.

“The other one got away with a ship and a few speeders. You good down there?”

Navina felt a fleeting relief as she heard that Firo was off the base and that he’d even managed to make it profitable for himself. The Mandalorian stared at her for long seconds before answering, holding the communicator in his fist close to his helmet. “I’m taking this one back with me.” With that, he switched off the communicator and put it back in his pocket, unhooking a set of binders from his hip. “I can put these on you and you can follow me,” he offered, “Or,” he looked down at the blaster on his hip. “I can set that to stun and-”

Navina shoved her wrists in his direction. “Clap ‘em on then,” she sighed and he did, securing them so smoothly she was sure he’d done it hundreds of times at least. “Where uh… where are we going?”

Sheathing his sword on his belt, he looked straight at her and answered. “No questions.” He bent down and picked up the discarded vambraces, then started walking in the opposite direction. When she didn’t follow right away, he reached for his blaster. “I’m not sure when the last time I used the stun setting was,” he said, hand poised over his weapon. “Not sure if it still works.” Looking back over his shoulder at her, he finished the threat. “Don’t make me test it on you.”

“This is the Way,” she responded reluctantly.

With that he started walking again, Navina following closely behind in silence.

Nope. Plans are not my thing.

Thank you for reading! Please feel free to let me know if you would like to be added to or removed from the tags! :)

tags: @something-tofightfor @alraedesigns @pheedraws @valkblue @malionnes @gollyderek

#resol’nare #the mandalorian fanfic #mando fanfic #din djarin #mando #the mandalorian fic #the mandalorian #din djarin x oc #mando x oc #sw fanfic #oc: navina harsa #oc: firostian ottabok #beskad vs kal #oof tough draw nav #this is the way #cara dune #greef karga #anyway cara dune is a great character who was portrayed by a shitbag so that's where i stand on that #bo-katan

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