#big battle on mandalore?

[gelsom]

TOMORROW will be the best day ever after two years. :>

[tarre-was-right]

FINALE - You might want to read the propaganda this time. Lots of misinfo in fandom on these two in particular.

Remember, this is NOT about who would win in a fight. This is about who makes the best leader for Mandalore as a whole.

Explanation post

Seeding

Propaganda below the cut! You can submit more on this post and I will reblog it back to here! I was going to keep the text-only bits above the readmore, but we got enough in that it takes up more space than I thought.

Yes, I will even reblog the stuff based on fanon, but I will judge you for it.

SATINE KRYZE

Anon: Satine because she served. Mandalorian fashion week would love her. Manda'slay.

Anon: Satine Propaganda: Was supported by the STRONG MAJORITY, led Mandalore to be in peace for NEARLY 20 YEARS, didn't ban mando'a or armour or any part of the culture like fandom claims, is a good fighter, considered EVERY Mandalorian a Mandalorian and didn't discriminate

@lightsaberwieldingdalek: Satine propaganda: she actually ran a functioning government. Not a mercenary band, or a death cult, or a terrorist extremist organisation, an actual functioning government. Yes there was corruption, corruption she did her best to stop to the point of personally getting in firefights with smugglers, but she took a planet devastated by civil war and by the end of her rule she had schools, public works, and a justice system. - Sure, the rest can run military operations (and we don’t know Satine couldn’t, only that she *won’t*) but can they make the bins get emptied regularly to go to the recycling plants?

@lightsaberwieldingdalek: I understand Jaster has the tacticool appeal, and has the iconic armour, but guys. He did an interpretation of some problematic historical values for the more modern day, led a mercenary band, and under unknown circumstances his group started calling him the historical-cultural title of the ruler of their entire cultural group. I know he’s cool looking, and shoots real good, but at most he’s the equivalent of someone who could be a cult leader but doesn’t want to be. - Meanwhile. Satine. You have issues with her ethical code, and she’s not a cool cause she doesn’t wear the armour. And yet she is the one who *actually ran mandalore*. For 20-ish years, and not only kept it stable but built it up from the ruins of civil war! - Yes yes T-helmet cool and military man competence nice, but that cannot equal taking the ruins of a war torn society and turning it into a mostly peaceful (when terrorism happened it was a big shocking deal, not normalised) urbanised people who eat well, have access to luxury and specialised education (get a offworld Jedi to come lecture) and can ACTUALLY BREATH IN THE ATMOSPHERE RUINED BY ALL THE WARLORDS LIKE JASTER TRYING TO FIGHT THE REPUBLIC TO PROVE THEMSELVES.

Anon: Satine propaganda: she knows what the aftermath of war is like. Jaster knows war from a soldier's perspective, a commander's perspective. But Satine knows it from a noncombatant's perspective. She's seen the aftermath and wreckage it leaves behind. Rebuilding after a war takes far longer and likely costs more than the war itself. I don't think Jaster cares about what happens after the battle. But Satine most certainly does.

@archangelsunited: Efficient and long lasting leader of her faction for years, was able to navigate neutrality with the Republic during the Clone Wars. Excellent Hair pieces.

@publiusmaximum: She allowed her society to experience it's first moment of peace and prosperity in a thousand years. - After she was killed, her society was taken over by fascists and gangsters. In short order Mandalore was razed, made uninhabitable, and her people scattered. - Satine was right about everything.

JASTER MEREEL

Anon: Jaster is the one who should rule Mandalore and all Mandalorians, although he started small he searched to make a new code of conduct for Mandalorian bounty hunters, he tries to keep the culture intact yet keep Mandalore progressive and not stuck in the past and from killing each other.

@spacetime1969: He literally rewrote what it means to be Mandalorian, and he created an entire movement around said philosophy that had a good chance of becoming the controlling party of Mandalore if he hadn't been assassinated. What more do you want?

Anon: Jaster for the win, he's the most recent one who actually knows some shit (as much as I love Din Djarin this poor man doesn't know ANYTHING), besides Jango and Boba but they're both very unstable individuals.

@nerdpickle: Jaster, his philosophy perfectly balanced tradition and reform, keeping the best of both worlds, he was also one of the few people chosen by the people

Mereel is a strong and powerful leader. He defeated the traiter Tor Viszla in battle and even took in a poor, orphaned Concordian child after the battle. No more will Mandalore be forced to consider such petty ideals as peace in order to avoid outright war. Instead, we shall be known throughout the galaxy as the greatest mercenaries the galaxy has ever known. Under his rule, we shall triumph over the foolish savages of planets unconquered and be paid handsomely for it!

Anon: Mereel is a strong and powerful leader. He defeated the traiter Tor Viszla in battle and even took in a poor, orphaned Concordian child after the battle. No more will Mandalore be forced to consider such petty ideals as peace in order to avoid outright war. Instead, we shall be known throughout the galaxy as the greatest mercenaries the galaxy has ever known. Under his rule, we shall triumph over the foolish savages of planets unconquered and be paid handsomely for it!

@archangelsunited: Had a structured document for Mandalorian Culture in the modern (tm) day. He fought with the warriors he sent out and took personal interest in the results of his actions (Jango Fett mentorship). Pissed off Tor Vizla.

@nerdpickle: Satine’s Mandalore was like Switzerland, except without the well trained military, incredibly advantageous terrain, high gun ownership and giant nuclear armed alliance providing a free buffer zone on all sides.

SATINE

@bosooka: Originally here

i wrote way too much for my original draft of this (and it turned into a "fuck jaster mereel" party) so here's an abbreviated version

Why Satine is a Better Ruler Than Jaster in 2 Simple Points

Point #1: Satine actually maintained order on Mandalore for decades

This one is simple. Mereel became Mandalore in ~60BBY and Tor Vizsla tried to overthrow him a mere two years later (and nearly succeeded). He was only in power for six more years before he was betrayed by the very same violent people he allowed to remain by his side because of his belief that a Mandalorian warrior was "merely a highly-paid soldier".

Contrast Satine: ruled from approx. 42BBY until 19BBY, a reign of 23-odd years. For twenty-odd years of her reign New Mandalore was completely peaceful and there were no challengers to her authority among the people or elsewhere. Death Watch only became an issue again when they received Separatist (and ultimately Sith) backing, and Dooku discarded them for being useless. Had Death Watch not allied itself with Maul's Shadow Collective I don't think she would have been overthrown at all.

Point #2: Satine kept Mandalore out of places it didn't belong

As we've established, Mereel had no issues with Mandalorians being mercenaries, used however their clients saw fit. I won't go into the weeds of the ethical implications of mercenaries and why they are illegal under international law on Earth, but in short: letting anyone pay one to kill others is the easiest way to become the cudgel of a fascist. Coincidentally exactly what the Fett clones become when Sidious uses them to exterminate the Jedi. Mereel's "reforms" of the Mandalorian ways did not prevent his troops from getting into a fight they couldn't win against the Jedi on Galidraan (and yes, the Mandalorians shot first:

not that anyone in the fandom remembers this...) after they but an insurrection down on behalf of the corrupt governor of the planet. To be clear, the True Mandos knew that the governor of Galidraan was corrupt and most likely harboring Tor Vizsla, but they still agreed to kill "insurrectionists" for money. Their problems came when Death Watch arranged to make it look like they had also killed women and children. Truly a war between saints and monsters.

Meanwhile Satine: the head of the Council of Neutral Systems, she refused to take sides in a war pushed by the greedy and violent. Yes, she was briefly protected by clones when it comes to light that Death Watch is aligned with the Separatists, but it was immediately followed by the Republic attempting to militarily occupy Mandalore and Satine risking life and limb to keep her people autonomous. Satine refused to become a useful idiot for warmongers, even knowing that it would have been economically advantageous for her to do so. Unlike Jaster Mereel, she has ideals that she values more than credits. He would have accepted an offer from the highest bidder and turned Mandalore into a machine of war for the Sith, just like his Crusader ancestors once did.

Tl;Dr

Satine was actually respected as an authority on Mandalore for literal decades and was only challenged by a miniscule faction of terrorists who had to get foreigners to interfere in their political processes (FML) in order to actually take power from her

Satine kept Mandalore out of conflicts it did not belong in, which largely protected it from military occupation and destruction until the year she died; Mereel made a career out of interfering in the affairs of other planets if they were paid to do so

Unlike Mereel and his successor, Satine had morals to motivate her decisions that were not the pursuit of cold hard cash, including the protection of Mandalorian independence and neutrality

[fulcrum-art-fox]

Look if you don’t want me to come out of that finale shipping the Mandalorian princess with the priestess then you shouldn’t have given me so much good fucking ammo. In this episode alone you gave me “lady kryze” and them flying into battle together and setting fire to shit together and standing in front of a big crowd looking like co leaders while a crowd shouts “for Mandalore” are you insane of course I’m going to ship them

[archivistofnerddom]

Okay, so what I love about the big battle on Mandalore is that pretty much all of the Mandalorians have blasters (and Bo-Katan had the Darksaber), and then there’s the Armorer, who rolls into battle going, “Eat hammer, bitches.”

[rinixo]

divine battle

Din Djarin/Reader | 2.5k | Rated E | afab reader, no y/n, pregnancy, Mand’alor Din Djarin, pregnant sex, pregnancy related body dysmorphia, descriptions of childbirth, descriptions of pain, blood

A short wrap-up to aquae vivae. This has descriptions of body dysmorphia, pain and stress during childbirth, and blood.

a/n: The concept of Mandalorians viewing childbirth as a battle is inspired by Aztec mythology and folklore.

read on ao3

You weren’t exactly trying to avoid it, but it still happens sooner than you expected.

Fatigue. Sore abdomen and breasts. Minor mood swings. All symptoms of an impending menstrual cycle - which never comes.

You keep quiet about it at first. A visit to a med droid confirms your suspicions and gives you a clearer timeline. Just a few weeks in so far. Many months to go.

Laying on the bed, you press soft fingers into the flesh of your stomach absentmindedly, trying to imagine it swollen and round. You’d have to let your clothes out, you realize. Or get new ones. Plus all of the other things babies require.

You don’t know where to even start. You don’t have any family here on Mandalore besides your husband - no one to ask, to confide in.

Din had raised Grogu, but that was different. He isn’t a normal baby. A human baby. Your baby.

The sound of the door opening makes you turn your head to look. Din has arrived, Grogu in his arms. They had been training, based on the paint splattered across the child’s clothes.

“Are you all right?” Din questions, seeing you laid out over the blankets.

You nod. “Yes. Just tired.”

Setting Grogu down, he starts to take off his boots and helmet. “Are you sure you’re not working too hard? You’ve been more tired than usual the past few days.”

“I’m sure,” you reply. He casts you a small frown, which you can’t help but smile at. You like how his lips curve naturally into a soft pout.

Raising your hand, you beckon him closer. “Come here.”

Din obliges you, walking slowly toward your bed. He lets you grab his gloved hand, and you pull him down so that he lies next to you. You entwine your fingers with his, turning your head to look into his dark eyes.

He has such nice eyes, you think. Perhaps your baby would have his eyes.

“You sure you’re ok?” Din asks again. There’s worry in his tone, and you squeeze his hand in reassurance. Are you ok? Yes and no. You’re nervous, anxious, and so full of an emotion you can’t name that you feel like you’re going to burst.

“I’m pregnant.” The words fall loosely from your mouth. You watch his expression - eyes widening almost imperceptibly. A short breath leaves his lips.

“Pregnant,” he repeats, almost as if in disbelief. You nod. Tears prick the edge of your vision, and you’re not sure why. Hormones, maybe?

He glances down at your bare abdomen. Removing a glove, he places his palm over you, warmth emanating from his skin into yours. The two of you stay like that for several silent minutes.

“A baby,” he murmurs, and there’s so much awe in how he says it. “Our baby. You’re pregnant.” He looks up at you, and you see the loving determination in his gaze. It makes you feel braver.

“I don’t know how to be a parent,” you confess, looking for support. Din’s eyes soften, and he kisses your lips, the tip of your nose, and the sides of your eyes where tears glisten.

“We’ll figure it out together,” he promises.

—

News of your pregnancy is slow to travel. It’s several months before you start to show noticeably - several months before you can no longer get away with wearing baggier and baggier clothes to cover it up.

It starts with low murmurs in the palace. Idle mumbles of congratulations, which you smile at and hurry past. It’s not that you aren’t happy or excited - sometimes it feels like your heart is going to burst from it all - but you’re nervous. Having a baby is a big deal. Having the Mand’alor’s baby is an even bigger deal.

Din is your constant shadow, unwilling to leave you alone or unguarded for any amount of time. When he absolutely can’t be at your side, he assigns his most loyal and highly trained guards to escort you.

After one incident when a guard doesn’t even let you open a jar yourself, you snap. That evening you sit your husband down and explain that you aren’t helpless and that while you appreciate the concern, it’s becoming more of a nuisance than a help.

Those big brown eyes look up at you forlornly. He agrees to tone it down, pulling you closer by the waist. He kisses the growing swell of your stomach through your linen shift as you pat his soft hair lovingly. You can’t stay mad at him.

The midwives had told you that it would be normal for you to experience an increased libido as time went on. However, it was Din who was becoming more and more insatiable with each passing day. Whether it was lathing over your breasts or buried between your legs, there was scarcely a night where his mouth wasn’t on you somewhere.

Din murmurs idolization into your stomach, and you bite your lip at the feeling of his scruff on your sensitive skin. Laying you back on the bed, he spreads your legs open and kisses softly from the summit of your bump down to where you’re swollen and waiting for him. He has you coming undone with just a few wide laps of his tongue, praising you the whole while.

He tells you how good you taste, and how sensitive you are to his touches. You feel like a goddess being worshipped with how he revels in your changing body.

It helps you on the days you feel detached from yourself. You examine yourself in the full-length mirror, propped up in your closet. Pulling your top up, you cup your round stomach with both hands, turning to view yourself from a side angle.

Din finds you there, brows furrowed in thought. “Everything all right?” He asks.

“I don’t recognize myself,” you murmur. As your body changes, you struggle with seeing yourself in your reflection. It’s made worse by people commenting on how you look - how big you’re getting or how the way your stomach sits means you’re carrying a boy or a girl or whatever other wives’ tales people come up with. You’ve taken to avoiding the court as much as possible as your due date draws nearer.

Din comes up behind you and places his hands over yours, thumbs stroking lovingly over your soft skin. He places his chin on your shoulder, looking at your reflection in the mirror. You lean your head against his.

“I see a woman carrying my child,” he soothes. “A woman who grows more beautiful by the day.” He places a soft kiss to your hair, and you give him a small smile.

—

Something happens on the southern continent, something that his military advisors say requires Din’s attention. At first, he refuses to go, citing your nearing due date.

“Just go,” you insist. “We’ve got a few weeks left. You’ll be back before you know it.”

“I’d never forgive myself if I missed the birth of our child,” he presses. “If I wasn’t there at your side.”

“I’ll hold it in,” you counter, and that gets a huff and a smirk from him.

He grumbles but acquiesces. You wish him good luck and tell him you love him, watching him and Grogu take off in his starfighter.

You waddle back to your chambers, looking forward to getting off your feet. Everything aches recently, and resting in your soft bed surrounded by an ever-increasing mountain of pillows is all that soothes you. Din had teased you about it, feigning exasperation at his disappearing real estate, but dutifully fetched you more and more pillows.

You wince at a sharp pain in your back. It’s nothing to be concerned about, you tell yourself. You’ve got all kinds of pain, in more than just your back. It would be ridiculous if you went into labor the same hour Din left the city -

Another sharp pain and you start to feel clammy. Something feels wrong, innately wrong. The pain doesn’t dissipate, and you have to sit down on a window ledge before your legs give out.

You tap on your wrist communicator, sending a message to the med droid and midwife with your location.

There’s a dampness between your legs. Did your water break? You can’t see past your stomach, so you reach down to touch and feel faint when your hand comes back smeared in blood.

“No no no,” you mumble. “Not yet, please not yet - not right now, your father’s not here.”

Another roll of pain is the only answer, and you choke back a cry. The last thing you remember before your vision goes black is the hurried drone of the med droid arriving, and being lifted in strong, familiar arms.

You come to in a private med bay as Din lays you down carefully. He snaps at the med droid trying to squeeze in next to him, and the midwife snaps back at him and tells him that, Mand’alor or no, if he wants to stay he has to move so they can do their job.

He moves to kneel next to the bed, moving your hair out of your face gently. You sigh as the midwife injects you with something that begins to make the terrible pain subside.

“How are you here?” You murmur, turning your head to look at Din. His eyes are wide, and you can see fear in the way he searches your face.

“Grogu,” he whispers. “He started to cry, and I just - I had a really bad feeling.”

“Hush now,” the midwife announced. You looked up at her helmeted face. “You need to save your energy, young warrior.”

“M’not a warrior,” you choke out.

“You are,” the stern woman insisted. “In our culture, childbirth is conceptually equivalent to battle. You are going to fight and struggle as you labor to bring your child into this world, and if you are to emerge victorious you will need all of your strength.”

A deep ache gets past whatever pain reliever you have in your system, and you curl up with a low groan. Your hand dashes out to grab Din’s, and you clench it hard as the contraction rolls through you.

“You can do this,” your husband says firmly. “I am here with you, my love.”

It’s not a quick birth. The midwife says something about complications, but you can barely think through the pain and the instinctual need for your body to just push. Din does not leave your side for a moment through the entire process, which lasts well into the night.

At last, your screams are answered by the wail of your daughter as she enters this world, and you collapse back onto the sheets. She’s placed, wet and screaming on your chest, and you barely have a chance to croak out a ‘hello’ before your vision goes black again. —

Low murmuring, like a lullaby, draws you from your sleep. Your eyes open slowly, vision blurry, and you see a broad figure sitting next to you holding a bundle of blankets in their arms.

You shift, getting the attention of your husband. Din looks up at you, a gentle smile on his curved lips. He glances back down at the bundle. There’s adoration in the way his eyes shine, like nothing you’ve ever seen from him before.

“Your mother’s awake, little one,” he hushes. You blink, trying to break out of your hazy mindset. “Would you like to try meeting her again?”

He moves carefully toward you and settles next to you on the bed. You sit up, eyes wide and curious, eager to see the face of the child you’d been carrying for all these months.

She’s asleep, and you’re delighted to see that her lips pout the same way Din’s do. She has a tuft of dark hair, and ten perfect little fingers and toes.

“Hello,” you whisper. “Hello, Rila.” Din leans over and transfers your daughter into your waiting arms, wrapping his arms around the both of you and holding you close.

“She’s beautiful,” you say dreamily. Din presses a soft kiss to your hair.

“Like her mother,” he agrees. You glance up at him, a watery smile on your lips.

Rila yawns, and blinks, and your heart sings when you realize that she does have her father’s eyes.

[mythosaursarecool]

Well I reached my 50 followers milestone so time to deliver on some lore drop stuff for my Mythosaur

So let’s get this ball rolling!

The plan here is three additional posts (maybe more we’ll see) going into more detail on the species this is going to more of an overview. This for now is just some random facts and lore I’ve put together.

Additional Content coming soon:

[Anatomy] [Force Use] [Battle Bonds]

-Written by a lover of world building and theoretical biology

My design came into play because boy oh boy do hate the canon mythosaur design. Like come oooon look at this guy! That’s not the stuff of legend that a weirdo that can stay down at the bottom of his living waters pond

So with the power invested in me by myself and no one else I said "I can do better" and spent the next year and a half designing , scrapping that, Pinterest boarding, then designing again another two times before before I settled on what has become my Mythosaur

Now some lore and random facts~ enjoy my word vomit! More to come with the other posts!

The story of Mandalorian riding mythosaurs as big as cities comes from the fact their bones fossilize into bescar and the great mines span for miles, but there’s not been any confirmation of living mythosaurs that big in any recoded history.

Mythosaurs are highly intelligent beasts, they form what is called a Battle Bond with the Mandalorian they carry into battle. Wile all mythosaurs can form these bonds the ones that do tend to be far and few between as there is a criteria that must be met for this, but more on that in the Battle Bonds post.

It should be noted that wile highly intelligent mythosaurs are also considered highly aggressive too. One can neither run nor hide from them once a Mythos has decided your life is forfeit. They do not take slights easily to themselves or their Mandalorians.

A mythosaurs name has power to it. To know their name does not give you power over them but it does give one the ability to truly know them. They do not give out their names to just anyone.

Mythosaurs are gifted in a few verities of force sensitivities. They can’t interact and move things around like a Jetti can but they can access the Livning and Physical force with practice. Most are skilled in the mind arts to some degree.

There were no known Mythosaur and Mandalorian Battle Bonded pares when the Empire glassed Mandalor. In fact there hadn’t been any known paring since before the Mandalorian civil war

Mythosaurs can resinate with bescar, it’s commonly called making bescar "sing"

Bescar has some interesting amplifying properties for Mythosaurs in the force. They can tether their force signature to teal they are familiar with and track it over large distances wile also being able to sense what’s around the anchor point to some degree.

I have like waaaaayyyy more I can go into here but I want to break things up and go more in-depth on things in separate topic designated posts so enjoy these tidbits! I do this for fun and entirely self indulgent so cheers y’all!

[lightasthesun]

oh i'd also love to hear about your clone ocs if you don't mind!!

If I don't mind??? I'll kiss you on the mouth for asking! (with consent)

I'll just give a quick summary and insert a picrew and then maybe someone will want to ask more about them.... 🙄🤐

Let me introduce my 212th boys first!

From left to right it's my CMO Bandaid, Junior Medic Steady and my AT-TE Commander/Tank Gunner Gambit :)

Gambit is the only one with a set CT number at the moment and it's CT- 007, he's present at the Battle of Utapau... Make of that what you will.

Second, but not second best are my 501st boys

Captain Brandy, Lieutenant Dawn and Sargent Dusk. They all accompany Ahsoka to Mandalore and are part of the 332nd Company 😶

In a happier, post-war no order 66 AU they end up forming a boyband called Brandy and the Twilights. This idea may or may not have been born out of an unhinged hyperfixation dump to my beloved friend @thenegoteator when she jokingly said it sounded like a band name and then proceeded to bless me with this art of them, so I ran with it and I'm never looking back. They have gigs at 79s most of the time but they're planning to go big.

Last but not least!!

We have Clone Captain Aced (sharpshooter) of the 104th Battalion, ARF-Trooper Bloomer of the 41st Elite Corps and CMO Rascal of the new 104th Battalion. Notice how one Armor is still red and the other is grey? Yeah.

That wasn't really short but as short as I could make it while hopefully gaining interest from you lot hehe

[mandalorianchronicles]

Mandalorian History 101

The following is a simplified timeline of all the major events in Mandalorian history leading up to The Clone Wars. This is compiled from the section of The Bounty Hunter Code dealing with Death Watch and Mandalorian history. It is copywrite 2014, the first year of the new canon. Though the book is not included in Disney canon, it was published after TCW episodes dealing Death Watch and not been refuted by anything in current canon, so there is no reason to believe it is not accurate. 

approx. 7000 BBY - The Taung race (Progenitors of present day Mandalorians) cleanse Mandalorian space of its inhabitants and lay down roots

approx. 4000 BBY - Mandalorians fight alongside the Sith in the Great Sith War, but are betrayed - Mand’alor the Ultimate opens up the creed to their slaves and conquered people because their race is dying out - They begin a campaign for galactic conquest called The Onlaught, but it was more to fill out their ranks with new recruits - They are defeated by the Republic and the Mandalorians lay low for a time

approx. 1100 BBY - Mand’alor the Uniter brought the best and brightest Mandalorians from the throughout the galaxy home - Warriors ruled, protecting the artisans, manufacturers, and laborers who supported them, and the vassals and servants who supported them in turn - The Darksaber is forged by Tarre Vizsla (the only Mandalorian to become a Jedi)

approx. 700 BBY - Mandalorians begin to stir again and the Jedi take up arms, nearly wiped them out in the “Annihilation” - The New Mandalorians who rejected the warrior ways gain power when the Republic installed them in the government - The Aka’liit (The Mandalorian Faithful to the warrior way) lived in the shadows, giving the allegiance to the True Mandalores they appointed

approx. 200 BBY - There is a split among the Faithful – some wanted to conquer any potential threats while others argued against starting wars and living by more peaceful means

approx. 60 BBY - The Faithful chose Jaster Mereel as the True Mandalore, who wanted to implement honorable rules of conduct for all Mandalorians on how they earn wealth by bounty hunting or the red trade - Tor Vizsla, who dreamed of Mandalorians returning to their roots as conquerors, split away and formed the Death Watch, becoming the Secret Mandalore. The Death Watch used the Darksaber (an heirloom of House Vizsla) as a symbol of their authority and made a decree than anyone could challenge the Secret Mandalore for leadership and “win” the Darksaber*

52 BBY - Tor Vizsla killed the True Mandalore, Jaster Mereel - Jango Fett’s adopted father

44 BBY - The Death Watch tricked the Jedi into eliminating the True Mandalorians for them

approx. 44-39 BBY - The Great Clan Wars take place within the ranks of the The Faithful - Adonai Kryze is killed in battle - Duchess Satine Kryze of the New Mandalorians assumes the throne of Mandalore - Tor Vizsla is killed by Jango Fett in 42 BBY - The Darksaber is entrusted to Pre Vizsla, governor of Concordia and the new Secret Mandalore of Death Watch, who takes in Bo-Katan Kryze as his protege

Since the Great Clan Wars take place after the True Mandalorians are wiped out, we know that Adonai Kryze was not part of their ranks. The following quote from Tor Vizsla concerning the Kryze family suggests that Adonai was one of his men, or was at least revered by him. Considering that Tor dies shortly after this is written, it’s not a big leap to see how Bo-Katan came to be on Concordia with Pre Vizsla, his successor. 

“Meanwhile, centuries of New Mandalorian lies had left the Mando’ade weak and soft. One of my kinswomen, the Duchess Satine Kryze, had been sent offworld as a child by her father, a mighy clan warlord, and she fell prey to the lies of the Jedi. After father perished in the Great Clan Wars, she betrayed his memory by becoming the leader of the New Mandalorians. Aided by Jedi tricks, she became the newest Anti-Mandalore, whereupon the exhausted Mando’ade flocked to her banner. Some of our warriors were exiled to the moon Concordia. Others – myself included – slipped away to resume the ba’slan shev’la.” - Tor Vizsla

* The decree that one could become Mand’alor by winning the Darksaber in combat from the current Mand’alor was an invention of Death Watch (in canon and legends), so it suggests a strong tie between Death Watch and the Children of the Watch that the latter is so hung up on this “tradition” when it’s only been a thing for about 70-75 years. 

[gffa]

This is the most bare-bones recap you could do of “What the fuck is Crimson Dawn?” and it still takes up a page and a half of comics!  It doesn’t even mention Maul’s name!  To be fair, the people recounting this don’t know Maul’s name, so this works narratively, but what gets me is that I really do enjoy how Star Wars is structured, especially with how it’s this giant cascade of dominoes. Think about how complicated all of this is! - Maul is given to Sidious by Mother Talzin, he’s raised as a Sith apprentice - Maul is defeated by Obi-Wan Kenobi, becoming obsessed with revenge on him while living on a garbage planet as a half-Zabrak, half-spider person - Mother Talzin creates a new Sith apprentice for Dooku after Sidious forced him to kill Ventress (not that that worked and now Ventress wants revenge, so she went to Mother Talzin), which is eventually a wash. - Savage goes back to Mother Talzin and she sends him on a quest to bring back her son Maul, where she cures Maul’s madness and gives him more Zabrak-style legs, and they go try to kill Obi-Wan and fail at it again. - They float around in a dead ship until rescued by Death Watch, whom they ally with to create a Shadow Collective, in a bid to appear as villains for Mandalore to fight, so Death Watch can swoop in as heroes and win the people’s support to depose Duchess Satine Kryze. - Basically, two Force-sensitives (and honestly Maul could have probably done it himself) were enough to force the Pykes and Black Sun to agree to work with them, even though neither group wanted to. - They also tried to force the Hutts to join, but they refused, so Maul killed Oruba the Hutt (the only one in person at the meeting instead of on holo) and then go to Tatooine to kill Jabba, who decides, okay, he’ll join the Shadow Collective after all. - The plan on Mandalore is put in place, the Shadow Collective attacks Mandalore, Death Watch looks like heroes, Pre Vizsla is the puppet master of the Prime Minister they install, Death Watch tries to betray Maul and Savage, but they’re like, dipshit, we’re Sith Lords and fight their way to Pre’s throne room.  Maul challenges him to a fight, Maul wins, Bo-Katan Kryze (who was part of Death Watch up to this point) refuses to let a non-Mandalorian rule Mandalore (since Maul has taken up the Darksaber that Pre had and leads Death Watch and thus Mandalore now) and leaves. - Sheev Palpatine/Darth Sidious decides Maul’s become enough of a thorn in his side to deal with this, goes to Mandalore, kills Savage, puts Maul in prison and dusts off his hands like no big deal. - Maul is rescued by members of Death Watch and the puppet prime minister who are loyal to him, wins back the Darksaber, returns to Mandalore, sets up another trap to try to lure Obi-Wan there, gets Ahsoka instead (along with a whole lot of Republic troops, because Bo-Katan asked for a Republic intervention, by way of having Ahsoka ask for it), they battle it out and are relatively evenly matched, but he eventually loses.  This is the Siege of Mandalore, which puts the Republic there riiiiiiight as the Republic is turning into the Empire. - So everything goes pear-shaped in the galaxy, as the Jedi genocide is enacted, chaos erupts everywhere.  When the clones attack Ahsoka because of Order 66, she frees Maul to cause chaos and he destroys the core of the engines, forcing the ship down, but he himself escapes. - Maul regroups again and takes over Crimson Dawn, but uses Dryden Vos as a figurehead.  Vos has an assistant named Qi’ra, who is the first love of Han Solo, and when he crashes back into her life, things go pear-shaped again, resulting in a big adventure that ends with Dryden Vos’ death and Qi’ra stepping up to take his place as Maul’s new figurehead. - Qi’ra learns much about the Sith from Maul and, after his death, she takes over Crimson Dawn for real and begins to plot how to take down the Sith Lord Darth Sidious, aka Emperor Palpatine. As much ridiculous bullshit as Star Wars often is, I love that they genuinely have a galaxy that is connected together, that one plot ripples out in these surprisingly massive waves.  You don’t get to any one point on this timeline without the other points happening first, just like you don’t get to the OT without the events of the prequels happening first, you don’t get the Empire without the Republic and the Separatists both. In many ways, Star Wars is separated into periods of time, the films still largely define different eras, but there is a throughline with so much of it, the political timeline spans decades in this universe, you can follow the trail all the way back to The Phantom Menace and even earlier.  Yeah, Star Wars is often silly bullshit, but I appreciate the dedication to showing that ramifications happen when major political and criminal upheavals happen!

[evaarade]

New Mandalorians ARE the Canon Version of the True Mandalorians

Ok so, a long time coming but here's the gist:

I truly think that the New mandalorians are, to canon, what the True Mandalorians are to fanon.

Yes fanon, not Legends Canon because they aren't as good as people make them out to be in, you guess it, fanon.

Let's get on with it.

To start, let's established what I mean with Fanon True Mandalorians and Canon New Mandalorians.

New Mandalorians are show to:

Want to move on from their Imperialistic History

Not erasing any history (see: murals in the city) nor the language (see: the mando'a all over the city, in the Academy and Satine openly speaking it) nor even their warrior traditions (see: kids still knowing how to fight)

Seem to be the majority of the population, composed by a big mile by Non-Warrior AKA the majority of the population even before the civil war.

Are hated by the Death Watch

Are the middle ground

Want and Do focus on the non-warrior traditions and elite (after centuries of it being the focus on their sector), but not to the extreme of banning all warriors (see: The Mandalorian guard, the Protectors - who are lead by Fenn Rau) instead possibly asking the Warriors who Refused to back down to not start shit in return of having the least damaged planet/moon aka Concordia

Are trying to make Mandalore and it's people Better

Those outside of the Royal Guard and the police don't seem to wear armour, though those seem to not be the bounty hunting version of it and those who Don't wear it certainly seem to use clothes with the beskar heart - the Kar'ta Beskar - in them

Follow a more progressive type of government - out from the Warrior's Elite control and more into the non-warrior population (aka the majority of the population)

Don't seem to have problems calling non-warriors Mandalorians as long as they meet a certain criteria

The Fanon True Mandalorians, meanwhile (from what I could gather from fanfictions):

Warrior Focused but out of necessity because of the Civil War, but don't seem to want to focus All on the warriors

Are Hated by the Death Watch

Are the middle ground

Care about their culture

Don't seem interested in going imperialists

Are trying to make Mandalore and it's people Better

Wear Armour even outside of battle

Don't seem to be the majority of the population - fanon varies between them being a minority or being a big part of the population (or at least, the minority with the support of non-warriors)

Follow a more traditional Mandalorian Government

Don't seem to have problems calling non-warriors Mandalorians as long as they meet a certain criteria

From these, we can that they ARE similar, and if we go further into semi-canon (which is iffy but we are handling fanon while talking about canon, so I will allow it) we do know that the New Mandalorians and True Mandalorians were at least relatively neutral towards each other, imagine if the True Mandalorians were their fanon self? They would get along way better!

But that's not the point of this post, the point is to show how the New Mandalorians are the Canon Version of the True Mandalorians with a few tweaks - which I do think I already proved from the points alone.

Out of the 10 points I spoke about, 6 they immediately agree on (even if on the last points they need to have a conversation on what their mutual criteria would be), with the first and seventh point being an half point since they are in a civil war and seem to be part of warrior clans, and we were not shown any of the warrior clans in the New Mandalorians outside of Satine, a Pacifist that leads by example (hence not using her armour, especially because she might have trauma related to it), Korkie, a child that may very well not see the point to when everyone doesn't wear it + there is peace (maybe he only used it from traditional celebrations), and Almec, who doesn't wear the armour until there's a civil war again.

Either way, summed up it's 6 points out of 10 that they agree on, more than half.

The New Mandalorians could simply be the True Mandalorians but evolved post war, or, as I suggested in the start of the post, they ARE the Canon Version of the True Mandalorians.

Simply because they weren't wearing armour at all times or fighting or part of the War, people threw them under the bus as 'genocidal colonizers' (even though nothing in canon suggests otherwise, if anything it suggests the opposite).

Personal Thoughts: The Canon New Mandalorians and the Fanon True Mandalorians are a LOT more alike than people think and it's sad that all they can seem to write is 'New Mandalorians Bad, True Mandalorians the BEST EVER'.

[titikawai]

Essay : DinBo is another Star Wars take on courtly love!

The Accolade by Edmund Blair Leighton (1901)

The concept of courtly love has long been a recurring theme in literature and storytelling, and it finds its way into the vast galaxy of Star Wars. While Leia and Han, as well as Padme and Anakin, have been prominent examples of such romances, the relationship between Din Djarin and Bo-Katan Kryze introduces another Star Wars take on courtly love. It is often compared to other notable courtly love couples like Jonerys from Game of Thrones.

According to Francis Newman in The Meaning of Courtly Love, vii: Courtly love “an experience between erotic desire and spiritual attainment, a love at one illicit and morally elevating, passionate and disciplined, humiliating and exalting, human and transcendent.”

Din and Bo’s relationship can be seen as a representation of courtly love, a concept that originated in medieval literature and poetry. It typically portrayed a noble knight who fell in love with a high-ranking, unattainable lady, and their relationship was often characterized by chivalry and devotion. While Bo and Din’s relationship might not mirror all aspects of it, its core elements are very well present : 

1/ Unattainability: Courtly love often featured a love interest who was unattainable, typically due to social status, marriage, or some other obstacle. In the case of Din and Bo-Katan, she is the leader of Mandalore and carries the responsibility of reclaiming her homeworld, Mandalore. She is seen as a hero and has a noble lineage, making her an influential figure in Mandalorian society. Her elevated social status, leadership role, and reputation contribute to her unattainability. Meanwhile, Din is a foundling and a bounty hunter, which creates a social divide between them, reinforcing the notion that they come from different worlds.

2/ Adoration and Service: Din and Bo both display their attraction through non-sexual deeds with a big emphasis on the eyes and the glances they give each other, especially since it is the only thing we can notice when they are wearing their helmets: 

In many scenes, Din is shown admiring her from afar, for instance when in awe of her skills as a warrior : 

source: @supermarvelgirl15​

He respects her leadership and goes to great lengths to assist and protect her, offering his services and support in her mission to reclaim Mandalore. His actions demonstrate his devotion and desire to serve her, just like a knight in shining beskar would serve his lady. He does heroic deeds of valour which win her heart: he saves Ragnar, fights in the sky with her, gifts her the Darksaber and fights Gideon by her side.

 3/ Chivalric Code: Courtly love was closely associated with chivalry and the knightly code of conduct. Knights were expected to demonstrate virtues such as bravery, loyalty, and honour (does that right a bell?). Similarly, Din embodies many of these chivalric qualities. He is courageous in battle, displays unwavering loyalty to his allies and Bo, and adheres to his personal code of honour, following The Way. Just like a Middle Age knight, his own religious beliefs are challenged when meeting her: he finds out about the existence of the several ways of being a Mandalorian with some removing their helmets and others not. We know that he feels this want of showing his face to those he loves because he showed it to Grogu in hope to finally attain real intimacy with him (a state a security of which he was robbed as an orphan) and maybe later with Bo while also wishing not to break the creed?

  4/ Declaration of passionate devotion :

In his pledge, Din emphasizes that his love for Bo-Katan surpasses superficial aspects such as the Darksaber, station, or bloodline. Instead, he places honor, loyalty, and character as the true measures of his devotion. By declaring that her song is not yet written, Din pledges to serve Bo-Katan until her destiny is fulfilled, showcasing his unwavering commitment and willingness to sacrifice for her. There was no need for Din to be all poetic like that if he didn’t courtly love her <3.

5/ Secret love that is not so secret : When Bo-Katan asked for volunteers to retake Mandalore, Din stood up for her in front of everyone, showcasing his unwavering support and loyalty to his lady : 

Additionally, their physical proximity at the bonfire, sitting extremely close to each other, suggests an intimacy and closeness that goes beyond mere friendship or camaraderie : 

The way people refer to them as a pair further emphasizes the perception of their relationship by others. Whether it is the way they interact, the unspoken understanding between them, or the chemistry that is palpable to those around them, their connection is evident and acknowledged by those who observe them. 

However, despite the undeniable bond between Din and Bo-Katan, their romance remains unfulfilled due to their differing priorities and the challenges they face. Their respective paths and responsibilities may require them to focus on their individual missions : her leading Mandalore again and him teaching Grogu. However, it is worth noting that while their love story may be unfulfilled at present, the potential for its development and resolution remains.

[aces-to-apples]

What's your ideal maulsoka dynamic? Corruption? Obsession? Revelation of truths?

Hmmm, obsession definitely, I do think that's fun. Mild "I can make her worse" with casual "I can't make him better so I won't bother trying". A lot of petty bickering; frenemies who still kind of hate each others' vibes but in an "only I get to fuck with this person" kind of way. Neither of them going whole hog into either side because they're both determined to dive headfirst into their preferred direction, but they're handcuffed/holding hands so tightly while not looking at each other that their momentum cancels out and they're just stuck directly in the middle making zero headway on either end. Big "Regina and Emma on Neverland in season 3 of OUAT, constantly being mean and catty but determined to accomplish the same goal for the same reason" energy.

IDK just none of that predator/prey, grand plan manipulator/helpless blind victim, redeemed by the power of love and the Light Side stuff.

If anything I want bitchy sitcom plots, constant power struggles but only in stupid petty ways, I'd follow them into hell (complaining the whole time) but god I wish they'd stop going there, saved by the power of spite and this gun I found. Remember their fight on Mandalore where they're just snarking at each other, no holds barred, but not actually managing a solid hit?

I want that but they're doing it so much that it confuses everyone around them about who's even in charge of annoying the Empire anymore (and also their forces start picking sides during stupid arguments about who has better battle plans)

[eliza1911o1]

Not The Mandalorian, my comfort show, saying it has just benched my comfort characters, Din Djarin and Grogu, with no warning

I can completely understand the desire (read: greed) to expand the show and have it be an MCU-like franchise, but it feels a little underhanded for the show to take its main character of two seasons and almost completely throw him to the side. I’m not debating quality of the show here, because I realize it wasn’t set up to be this masterclass piece of writing, I just think the fact remains that there was some semblance of a plot and arcs before now. Beyond Din Djarin simply being a fun character, after season two, we’re invested in him and they have given him character growth and allowed for developments. There was so much s3 was set up for; Din’s relationship with connection as seen through the dark saber (which literally shows emotional states through the wielder’s ability to use it), the clashing of creeds (Mandalorian vs. Jedi, Children of the Watch vs. modern Mandalorians), his maturation into accepting responsibility for others (Grogu and almost being Mandalore), his views towards droids and reformation (which has been a big topic in relation to the Empire), and just learning about the Mandalorian culture through him, a foundling.

The fact they cut him out and highlighted Bo-Katan this season (who I think would have been a great mc to potentially transition to, had they handled it well), feels really reminiscent of Rise of Skywalker and how Rey suddenly turned out to be a Palpatine. Iconic names are exciting, but sometimes, they make a mess of things. Part of why Din worked so well as a titular character for a show broadly about Mandalorians was because he sat at an intersection of all the lore, this neutral character we enjoyed, learned with, and could see ourselves relating to. Disregarding how I find him as a character, I think if they wanted a show that truly explored all these different parts of the culture, Din was the reason it worked. The Mandalorian isn’t supposed to work like The Clone Wars or the animated shows; sure, it can dabble in large plots and big battles, but its heart was in just embracing Star Wars and all its cool history and knowledge. It’s really sad to see that s3 lost this direction

[direwolfrules]

I have one Rebels AU idea where it's basically just Heroes of Mandalore goes differently and Ezra winds up riding the Mythosaur. Because I saw that scene in Mando and immediately remembered that Ezra's good at connecting to animals.

I don't know, maybe a combination of Sabine deleted all the data on the Duchess in this universe + Thrawn seeing Mandalore as a perfect way to trap some Rebels.

Alrich got moved like two weeks before the prison raid, he's being held in Sundari for a big spectacle of an execution. Tiber's got a whole parade planned, maybe a festival if the damn bangcorn vendor gets over their beef with the uj cake salesman.

Anyway, the main conflict of this alternate arc is they have to sneak into Sundari to free Alrich before he gets executed. The team gets led through a series of caves by Bo-Katan's weird nephew and his weird friends, who apparently use these tunnels to smuggle Force-sensitive children to safety.

They camp at the cavern with the Living Waters to plan their next moves, and that's when some Imperial Supercommandos show up. Thrawn had figured out the rebels would be using the mines by intensive study of Lady Bo-Katan's previous assaults on Sundari and local geography.

It's a fearsome battle, and just when the rebels think they might get the upper hand several squads of stormtroopers show up. They're losing ground and being forced to the shore of the Lake of the Living Waters. It honestly seems like they're about to die there, especially since the troopers won't stop coming. It's utterly hopeless.

Until Ezra senses a presence.

It's old and powerful in a way he's never really felt before. It's not as old as the Bendu, and a thousand times more...feral. It's huge and hungry and even though it isn't sentient Ezra can almost feel it reach back through the Force and scrutinize him.

Ursa and Bo-Katan are both about to yell at the jetii boy to stop standing around and get back to killing Imps when the ground starts to shake. In the center of the lake water rushes as something emerges from the depths. Something large.

The mythosaur roars as it lunges with deceptive speed, and an entire squad of stormtroopers disappears down its gullet. This repeats until all the Imperials are dead. With its hunger sated the mythosaur descends back down into the depths, though not before giving Ezra an affectionate lick.

Everyone is just sort of in a state of shock for the rest of the mission except for Ezra, who has no idea what a mythosaur is or that he just became the hero of prophecy for like three Mandalorian religions. No, he's more flustered about how he utterly embarrassed himself in front of Sabine's father.

They almost get cornered again by Imperial troops while leaving. That's when Ezra summons the mythosaur again and winds up riding it to victory, which is. A lot. Apparently, the mythosaur likes killing for the Jedi boy.

It isn't until later, when they're all having a victory feast that someone explains it to him. Ezra doesn't want to be a Mandalorian and he certainly doesn't want to be a Mandalorian prophecy boy, thank you very much. Kanan's trying to figure out how to tell Hera the latest news without sounding insane. Sabine's trying not drown herself in the cask of ne'tra gal after her mother took her aside and told her to "marry that boy", which lends itself to the hilarious realization that apparently Ursa just thought Sabine and Ezra were dating this whole time.

[crispyjenkins]

dha kar'ta "crispy has lost control of their life again" celebration sneak peek

am planning on starting up a wip wednesday sort of thing (maybe next week?), which will definitely be more than star wars related stuff, but i've also just exceeded a thousand hours on skyrim in less than a year and wanted to celebrate(?) (i actually hit a thousand a few days ago, but in true fixation fashion, kept playing instead of posting anything over here lmao) so here's a dha kar'ta wip 'cause jango is fighting me a little bit but new chapter soon!! i promise!!

 “As soon as Satine is unseated, the Mandalore System’s full neutrality nullifies, unless Jango chooses to reinstate it.”

  “And he’d rather die than do that,” Bosoloc pipes up helpfully.

  “Yes, and at that point, Mandalore can choose to pursue rejoining the Republic for the first time since the Kyr’am Turr’e, because New Mandalore never officially seceded to the Senate.”

  “Which Jang’alor would also rather die than do.”

  Obi-Wan acknowledges Ezovac with a nod. “The politics of sovereign states that exist within sectors technically under control of the Republic are a disaster at best, and almost no one in the Senate is willing to deal with it long enough for a planet to get the flimsiwork through.” Melidaan is a Republic planet now, but the Young didn’t always intend it to be, and Nield couldn’t read, so Obi-Wan had done a lot of that research between battles; and being on the run from Death Watch actually afforded a considerable amount of downtime during his year on Mandalore, and, well. A big part of that Obi-Wan had thought it was all information he’d need to know if Satine asked him to stay, and Obi-Wan still hasn’t quite learned how to let someone love him unless he can be useful to them.

  Actually, it’s rather convenient that he had done all this research for Mandalore specifically, if thirteen years too early — perhaps the Force was simply preparing him for this Mandalore, not Satine’s. 

  Across the mess table, Kal groans loudly and slumps his head down. “Fine, I’ll bite, kih’Alor: what’s any of that got to do with Duchess Demagolka?”

  “Theoretically,” Obi-Wan sighs again, pushing a grumbling Dha further into his mind so he can concentrate, “Mandalore does not actually have to declare itself as anything; there are plenty of planets in the outer rim that have sovereignty without officialising it with the Republic.”

  “But...?”

  “But, thanks to Satine, Mandalore is embroiled in Senate politics nine ways to Corellian Hells, and it’ll be even worse if she makes any headway with the beskar mines while we’re off fighting Vizsla. We simply can’t withdraw from those politics, not when Mandalore’s history is so entwined with the Republic’s, not unless we want to go full isolationist from the rest of the galaxy.” He glances at his other table-/councilmates, and is relieved to see they seem to be keeping up, if looking a bit exhausted by it; Obi-Wan shares the sentiment.

  Luckily, the mess is empty now with everyone returning to their increased post-battle duties, or Obi-Wan is sure they’d have had quite a few more complaints about the impromptu government lesson happening in the middle of the tent.

  Kal rubs his eyes, shaking himself before turning back to Obi-Wan, his frown as deep as ever, but at least he still seems willing to listen.

  “So, we can’t just go after the Senate’s pet Mandalorian without burning those bridges, unless we have proof she’s in league with a terrorist?”

  “Precisely. And technically, with Mandalore as a sovereign state, the Senate can’t do anything about the change in power, unless they plan to go to war with every Mandalorian in the galaxy, but proving she made the first move will give us significantly more support for instating Jango instead.”

  “I feel like my brains are coming out my ears,” Bosoloc whispers woodenly, staring down at the remains of the protein gruel on her tray. 

  “You don’t have ears,” Myles reminds her, chin in his hand, and she kicks him under the table. 

  “What I want to know,” Mij speaks for the first time, easily dodging one of Myles’ flailing arms, “is how you even know about the Kyr’am Turr’e, Obi-Wan.”

  Bosoloc turns away from tormenting Myles to add, “Yes, I was going to ask about that, because I have no idea what the Death Days are.”

-

[gingerlurk]

Lovers' Crest | Chapter 19: The Bloodied

Din Djarin x f!Reader

Masterlist

Summary: In this time and place, as war descends, it all changes.

Word count: 5.6k

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, slow burn, non-canon (the Razor Crest never gets destroyed, it also gets upgraded with a cabin), post season 3, Big Epic Battle, return of the Razor Crest 💙, violence, blood, passing allusion to post-traumatic stress, ho so much action, and so much lore bullshitting just go with me here.

A/N: The walker described in this isn’t any specific canon version. Somewhere between an AT-AT and an AT-ST let’s say. I dunno, picture whatever you want. Thanks for reading!

--

The room fills for the final muster. 

It’s a scene similar to the first time you’d been in here, but now you’re witnessing it from the other side. Armoured and armed soldiers file into the chamber, an audience gathering before the conflict begins. 

This time though, rather than hiding in the shadows by the forge, you’re among the congregation, seeing the Armourer up front waiting as everyone files in. You stick to the back, find yourself shuffled along a row to stand uneasily by Fennec Shand. She leans a shoulder against yours, a gesture of staunch reassurance.

We got this.

Your eyes move over the backs of many helmets, scanning until you spot him. The man you miss more than you would breathing air must have been first in here. Front and centre, Din stands with his back to you and just a little side on. From your vantage point, you can make out the edges of the familiar heat sig sensor on his helmet’s right side. You can’t see any of the T visor, so he wouldn’t spot you staring at him unless he turned full to the right.

He must know you’re in here though. Whether he cares or not, you have no clue anymore.

Over the many broad shoulders between the two of you, you can’t tell if Grogu is with him.

Still, you whisper a silent entreaty, ‘please let them both be okay…’

Footsteps and shuffling whittle down to silence. Everyone waits. The striking figure at the front of the procession pushes her shoulders back, runs a gaze across the crowd, and speaks. 

‘War is here,’ she says. ‘And we are ready.’

The room fills with the beating of wrists. You and Fennec join in, tapping your comms cuff to your new wrist guard. As the sound fades to quiet again, the honorary battle commander continues.

‘We stand on the frontlines to defend our homelands. Mandalore. Concordia. Every place Mandalorians have come together to build a future. Every place the old, dead empire has tried to take from us.’

You can tell her words are meticulously chosen, because the room swells with an earnest pride and a thrum of determined energy.

‘As the Watch,’ she continues, ‘we’ve nurtured foundlings, raised warriors, and preserved our cultures. We have long held true to the words of the Creed. And it has led us through the dark. Now, we each of us have stood in the Living Waters. By the miracle of liberating Mandalore, we grow brighter. The bonds we forge and the strength we gain from them will continue to lead us.’

‘And it is with this revival that we must learn to reach into new space. We honour the Creed, as it speaks of ourselves and our past.’

She reaches behind her and once again draws out that familiar device. The one containing the texts of the Creed, its originals, its translations. The controlling lore of the people collected here. She places it down on her table.

‘Yet we have come to learn that there is more to our ancient Way than we knew. Now we have learned that the Creed goes further. It speaks of our future. And with the royal Clan Kryze guiding us, we have the way forward to meet it.’

The air pulses like a beating heart. The flames of the forge dance across the ocean of beskar. Everyone holds.

‘Bo-Katan Kryze is our leader, and she is also our guide, it is time we followed her on the path to walk both worlds. Each and every world.’

You’re puzzling over what this reverent monologue could possibly mean – what worlds? – when the woman standing before her people does something that beats the breath from your lungs and sends dizzying electric shocks through your body.

The Armourer, the devout and steadfast leader of almost every person in this room, reaches up and – with a soft hiss that echoes over the hushed crowd – lifts her helmet up, and off. An angular face, large eyes and a wide mouth. She nestles the golden mask under an arm and watches.

It remains deathly quiet for a long, agonising stretch. 

Slowly, just one at a time, and then a few, and then everyone in the place is lifting their hands to their own faces. The air is filled with the sounds of unclasping, pressure releasing. Beskar sings against itself as removed helms are cradled and caressed in gauntleted arms.

You look side to side with eyes wide and mouth agape, in crude contrast to the stoic and steady facial expressions of those around you. The unknown features of people you’ve lived and worked with for weeks are still and focused. Like they knew. Like they were prepared.

Then you’re searching. Over the arms raising and heads shaking out hair and sweat, you strain to see it. The helmet you’d held between your own hands and the man behind it. But he’s obscured. Too far away. You’re just not tall enough. Desperate, you raise onto your toes, craning your neck over the crowd.

‘Here,’ Fennec grabs your wrist and drops to a knee. You gawk for a second but she smacks her thigh with the other hand. ‘Up,’ she mouths.

This is ridiculous but you don’t even pause. You accept her boost, grasp her shoulder and let her hoist you up above the heads of the group. Fortunately everyone is distracted, some unspoken rule that no one looks around rippling across the congregation. They all stay focused front and centre, where the Armourer looks at each and every one of her people in turn.

Not at you yet though. From the very back, toppling a little, shaking violently, you sweep your gaze over to the spot you know him to be standing.

And you see it. You see him.

Dark curls. Damp and sticking to the nape of his neck and around his right ear. 

Huh. He has dark, brown hair. The sight slots into the image you’ve tried to hold in your head all this time. The sketch you’d traced out with your hands. 

Din is holding eyes front as well. All you can see of his face is the slight edge of a sharp jawline and nose. The fuzz of a scruffy beard. Hardly enough. Not enough.

Despite yourself, knowing it to be futile, you will him to look around. Look, I’m here, Din. Please, I’m here.

But you have to drop down before the Armourer, or anyone else, spots you. Giddy and a little nauseous. The grip on your forearm tightens as Fennec stands again. She leans in.

‘See what you needed to see?’ she asks.

You just let out the breath you’d been holding, hold up a trembling hand and stare hard at it. Try to steel yourself.

You hadn’t. Not at all.

A long, high-pitched siren cuts into the reverie that had engulfed the room, sweeps across the people who had just taken a step to change forever.

The Armourer speaks, clear voice projecting to every corner of the room, ‘Go, and bring glory to Mandalore.’

The whole room moves as one, helmets going back on and everyone proceeding to their assignments. Perfect, regimented, united.

Fennec Shand claps a hand to your shoulder and peels off, going to her mission, whatever that may be. Jolted back to reality, reminded of your mission, you cast about for Ari Wren, knowing you have to follow her into whatever comes next – no matter what. You spot her helmet first as it lifts up and over her head, spy just a hint of short cropped blonde hair as the mask locks back into place. She sees you too and strides forward.

‘This way,’ she instructs, fully composed like she hadn’t just uprooted her whole identity. ‘Stick with me.’

You let her guide you, all the while still looking back over your shoulder, just trying to get one more glimpse, one more look, just one.

You don’t see him again.

The first phase of the attack is nothing more than a battle of attrition. The enemy throws waves of ground troops at the Mandalorian defences. You stick with Ari Wren, barely holding onto awareness as pure adrenaline and instinct course through your veins and grant you unimaginable speed and strength. 

‘Stay in step,’ she yells. 

Shoulder blades pressed to the hot metal of her jetpack, you move as she moves. Your footwork is doing double-time to keep up with her rapid twists and lunges, the sword and shield seemingly featherlight in her hands. Each time laser fire comes at you, she’s there – shielding and deflecting.

In turn, you incapacitate anyone that gets under her guard. The close quarters lets you take soldier after soldier by surprise, sending them screaming to the ground clutching at ruined limbs.

The two of you make your way across what’s become the battlefield, move through the acrid air and across the ash-soaked scorched earth. Smoke rising all around, you position yourselves in the anticipated trajectory of their ultimate weapon. It hasn’t emerged over the embankment yet, but it’s only a matter of time.

You remain dimly aware of the rest of the battle – cover fire soaring overhead, the other fighters moving in your forward lines, and a pitched dogfight rending the sky above. But for all the chaos that has erupted since the imp forces descended, the world may as well be you and the Mandalorian yanking you out of the path of an oncoming pulse blast.

But then disaster strikes. It’s your fault. A trooper comes at your duo wielding a bayonet-clad phase rifle, the long nasty blade on its barrel glowing red hot with energy. They lay down attack fire on approach and, as Wren deflects each shot, move in to take a swipe with the sharp, searing edge. Your companion bats it to the side. She brings her own sword around fast, but the enemy manages to parry, twisting side-on.

Seeing an opening, you duck under Wren’s extended arm and take aim at a kidney. But she wasn’t expecting it and you’ve moved under her centre of gravity. You stagger each other and the split second of imbalance is enough for your foe to rend a long slice up Wren’s outer thigh, carving a line along the outside edge of her beskar.

She falls to a knee, then slumps back with an agonised cry. The assailant squares up as you stumble to regain balance. Before you can do anything, he’s drawing his rifle up to your face.

‘N--!’ Your cry is cut off by the soldier in front of you jerking sideways, a violent twist as he drops dead to the ground. Behind him, two more troopers are sprinting toward you, weapons drawn. But again, first one then the other jolts as if struck and falls.

Whirling and twisting, scanning the perimeter, your eyes finally look up and you see it. The long barrel of a sniper rifle and the curved sights of the assassin’s helmet peak over the far ridge.

Fennec Shand.

You stare for a moment until Wren barks your name. It pulls you back and you see you’re being surrounded by a rank of attackers, all sporting savage-looking shock batons. Some are already being taken out by Fennec’s pinpoint cover fire. But if you don’t fucking move soon, you and Wren are doomed.

One of the squad lunges in to attack.

Reaching back, the gaffi stick slung across your shoulders swings free and you connect it with the on-comer’s chest plate, the slugged end caving it in and sending him flying backwards. You spin to slice the barbed spear across another’s throat, blood making a crescent streak across the air.

Fennec hits one in the knee and, as he drops, your weapon rises to meet his face. The helmet shatters and your blood roars.

One after another, you never stop rotating. Cries of pain from your weapon and grunts of shock from the impact of a rifle blast work the group circling you down to the ground.

When it’s clear, you look back to Fennec, hoping she can see your nod of acknowledgement through the scope. She raises an arm to you.

Then you fall to Wren’s side, where she’s gripping her wound and cursing in fury.

‘Wren,’ you start, dropping your weapon and trying to assess the damage. ‘Hang on—'

An ear-splitting siren rips the air apart. Its meaning runs your blood cold. The walker is incoming. Wren tugs at your arm, a ‘help me up’ gesture. But you shake your head, lay your own hands over hers at the top of her thigh where blood spurts from the edge of the armour plate. 

‘No, no,’ you urge her back. ‘Don’t move.’

‘Have… to…’ she grits through her helm. But even the small movement she just made causes red to well between your fingers. 

‘Shit!’ you cry. ‘Gods, Wren. Hang on… Help!’ You look around frantically, yell into the deafening chaos of battle. ‘Help!’

Hells, think clearly, would you? You shake yourself and smack your comms. ‘I need help! Wren is down.’

Within moments, two Mandalorians have landed on either side. One, in medic garb, shoves you aside and begins to tend to her leg. They tap the ground to indicate she needs evac and you hear her grunt in abject frustration. Tries to wave them off.

‘No…’ she moans. ‘Need to…’ She tries to sit up but jolts with a cry of agony. She grips a fist tight before shaking herself and slapping her own comms, muttering into her helmet. You can’t hear who she’s talking to – why is she on a different comms channel?

Another siren has you whirling, then craning your neck up, back. A huge mechanised leg raises over the first fortifications only hundreds of feet in front of you, stomps down with a thundering crash.

You cradle your ears. Terror shoots through you. Whipping around, you look for another jetpacked fighter who could get you up there. Someone, anyone. But they wouldn’t know where to place the charges. How to time it. You sense your plan being blown to hell and panic sets in. This is it – that thing is going to wipe you all out.

Another gargantuan limb brings the monster closer and sends a garrison into full retreat. The horrifying sound of the thermal cannons warming up fills your ears with a sickening buzz. There’s no way to stop it. You look up to the heavens with defeat heavy on your chest. 

That’s where you see it. A pinprick at first, but growing larger. The gorgeous old gunship streaks across the sky, threading the needle through cannon fire and laser blasts. In a sharp nosedive, the Razor Crest is on full burn on its approach to you. It turns to make a low bank and passes over your heads. A figure drops from the hold, in a rapid descent to the field of battle not far from you.

Din hits the ground with a forward roll and releases a salvo of his whistling birds into the waiting war troopers. He’s incapacitated them in a matter of seconds as you sprint toward him. Up and fighting any and everything between the two of you, he makes his way to meet you in the middle. You can’t stop yourself from barrelling into him.

He just plants a hand on your waist and pulls you close, ‘Hang on!’ he yells.

You wrap your arms around his shoulders and try to stifle your cry as his jetpack engages and rockets you both upwards, soaring toward the body of the walking terror. Nothing but empty air below and laser fire raining all around, you bury your face into his neck. Through the haze of fear and adrenaline, you feel him pull you tighter.

The underside streaks toward you. He manoeuvres to ascend up the thing’s body but, just as you come level with it, the rockets on Din’s pack cut out. Suspended in the air, weightless for one terrifying moment, a scream begins to bubble up as you anticipate a precipitous drop. 

But Din fires his whipcord ahead, planting its grapple at the top and swinging your bodies into the side of the massive unit. He twists his weight so he lands squarely against the side, shielding you from impact. Dangling together from the façade of the stalking, swaying machine, he nudges at you.

‘Climb!’ he yells, urging you upwards. 

‘Your jetpack!’ you shout back. ‘What’s wrong?’

‘I’ve got it, just climb now,’ he pushes. You reach up and grab the whipcord. His free hand helps you along, grabbing your legs and heaving upwards to give you purchase. You don’t know how his shoulder isn’t being torn from its joint, but he seems to be holding on. So you grit your teeth, ignore the cord cutting into your hands, and climb.

You hand over hand with the cord and plant your knees into the vertical surface. Push every shred of fear away and focus on what’s in front. Halfway up you glance back and almost scream again. Hundreds of feet below, the monstrosity steps through more barricades, nearing the centre of the fray. But you also see Din, who’s holding fast, looking up, watching you. You turn around and keep climbing. 

The second you reach the top, the whipcord whizzes back. You’re already scrambling toward the pilot hatch when Din’s voice crackles over your comms piece. ‘Just like you planned – you take the personnel, I’ve got the undercarriage.’ 

Gods, so he had been listening. 

Wind whips your face and the roar around you is deafening, but you get to the hatch and pop a thermal charge into the lock. Crawling back and shielding your head, you wait for the ‘croom ’ then leap forward, grip the edge of the opening, and swing yourself inside. The smoke and noise from the explosion has stunned your cabin buddies. They only manage a short shout of alarm before both find their necks snapping at unhappy angles.

You surge onto the portal, jabbing at controls and resetting target maps. The walker groans under the strain of turning 180, but the cockpit’s sights swing around until the advancing forces come into view. You set the target locking system and throw the lever into full drive before sending a quick blaster shot into the control panel. The guns below the cockpit begin a continuous barrage. You watch for a moment as squadrons scatter and tanks implode.

You back away and make for the hatch. Scrambling up onto topside, you hit comms.

‘Din!’ you cry. ‘We gotta go! Din?’

Instead of a reply, the Mandalorian rockets up over the edge and plants his feet metres from you. He strides forward, holding one hand to his helmet, shouting at R5 to bring in the Crest, and reaching his other arm out to you.

You don’t pause, moving in and resuming your grip on his shoulders. He holds for a second, then you’re fighting panic again as you launch upwards. This time though, you manage to keep your eyes trained down. 

You see the walker, marching back into its own lines, sending explosions into troopers and hovercannons. Then, perfectly timed, the detonators Din planted on the underside go off, buckling the legs and sending it tumbling into the central armoured column.

Good.

Then your vision is obscured and your momentum arrested. You start in alarm before making sense of the scene. The Crest has sailed elegantly into your line of ascent and Din has cut the jetpack, landing you both on the aft entry of the old gunship. It’s a heavy impact and the only reason your knees don’t collapse is the strong hold he has on you. You both stumble back into the hold of the ship.

As soon as you’re steadied, he lets go and makes for the cockpit. You give in to a brief moment of uninvited despair when he looks over his shoulder and barks, ‘C’mon!’ Then you’re following.

You allow yourself little beats to revel in being on the Crest again, but not for too long. The janky locker door that never quite shut all the way. The peeling paint on the ladder. The access panel that always flickered and whirred. Gods, you’d missed it so much. 

As you enter the cockpit, Din is taking his seat and engaging the controls from R5. You spot Grogu tucked in his pod, which is securely strapped into his flight seat. He looks over at you and waves his arms, burbling in excitement.

The seat on the other side, your seat, sits empty.

Your heart aches at the sight.

As if the ship senses it, the Crest groans and lurches nose down for a moment, forcing you forward. As Din rights its moorings, you flop back into the chair.

‘Get strapped in,’ he yells over his shoulder. He punches at the controls and brings the ship around to witness the skirmish taking place in the sky. The cockpit’s windows afford you a view of the aerial battle, so high up you can see the curvature of this moon and the combat below looking like a crawling insect colony. The fighters up here are intercepting and taking down enemy craft on approach, preventing any from breaking through to attack ground forces.

‘Just in time,’ Din says. ‘The Guild has arrived.’

‘Oh shit,’ you say, pulling the straps around and craning your neck out the window. You spot it. A hefty old transport frigate, Leaf Ghogal’s little army of bounty hunters, plugging a descent toward the edge of the fray, getting ready to drop a mess of bloodthirsty fighters right into the thick of it.

But Din seems unfazed. It puzzles you for a second before he flips the cockpit comms on and speaks to someone on the other end.

‘You’re up,’ he says.

‘Copy that, Mando my man,’ comes a reply – a painfully familiar voice. ‘Our frenemies will be taking a one-way jump to buttfuck nowhere in 3- 2- get goin’ hahaha.' 

Still eyeing the transport a ways off, you have a perfect view of it shuddering for a moment – the hyperdrive straining in the high atmosphere. With a massive shockwave, it shooms into nothingness. The energy fallout from its rapid departure collects the edge of a soaring tiefighter, taking its portside wing and sending it careening to the ground. 

‘Woo! Two fer one!’ The disembodied voice hollers and it hits you. 

‘Wha— Torre? ’ you sputter.

‘Hey dove,’ Torre’s voice echoes around the cockpit. ‘You made it.’

‘What are y-- what is-- what?’ 

‘Making up for my bullshit, hon,’ he says. ‘Or a little of it, at least.’

Din interrupts, like you aren’t in a full tailspin over this little fucking alliance going on right now.

‘Another mercenary outfit inbound,’ he says.

‘On it,’ Torre chirps, the clacking of keys being hit in rapid succession accompanying the transmission. 

You start to say ‘where?’ but Din just points. Another transport carrier trundles just behind where Leaf’s ship was. Your eyes track it as the Crest banks across the range. Huge, fit to carry upwards of two hundred combatants. Worlds, you think. If they land it’ll be a bloodbath.

But Torre’s counting down again and the boat – blip – bends out of existence. Just like that. 

‘That’s cleared,’ Din says.

‘Roger, roger,’ Torre responds.

This is too surreal. ‘Torre,’ you shout. ‘ What-- why are you doing this?’

A long sigh slips from the speakers.

‘Your Mando came and got me,’ he tells you over the comms. ‘Told me about how that fucker Cephlate used me. And how he got to you. Fuck. For that, and for the rest… Well, ‘m sorry.’

A beat of quiet as you absorb that. Then the Crest chimes in with its alert system, alarms blaring around you.

‘And speaking of the Devil,’ Torre says. ‘His craft is inbound.’

‘What?’ you yelp. ‘Cephlate is here?’ 

‘Indeed,’ Torre answers you. ‘Got his private little army in on this shitshow.’

Ice slides up and down your spine and sends cold shards to your extremities. The freeze of a carbonite unit crawls over your skin. Him. Your side aches right where your scar has steadily faded away. But it now throbs as if fresh. Your face, where he’d held onto your chin and threatened you, burns.

The only thing stopping you from succumbing to wild panic is the T visor that’s swung round to stare at you.

‘He’s not gonna touch you,’ Din snarls low. ‘Ever again.’

You lean into your chair, breathing deep into your belly as he turns back to the ship’s controls.

‘What can you do about it?’ Din asks.

‘Not much, I’m afraid. I’ve tried hacking in but he knows my tricks. All I can give you is something to aim for.’

A string of data rolls across the Crest’s targeting system, forms into a ship holo. An ugly, heavy-duty gunner-craft. Cannons and railguns weigh the beastly thing down. The holo rotates to reveal a glowing patch on the underside. Small and tucked against the exhaust latchings. You lean forward to get a good look at it. 

‘The stitch that will unravel his shields,’ Torre explains. ‘Aim for that. And he’ll be done.’

‘Okay,’ Din says. ‘I think you’re good then.’

‘Copy that.’

‘You gonna cause trouble?’

Torre’s chuckle rumbles over the speakers. ‘No worries there,’ he says. ‘Old mate Greef here hasn’t taken his pistol’s sights off me for a single second.’

‘I’ve got him, Mando,’ the high magistrate’s voice follows on. ‘We’ll take him back when the fight is over, won’t we IG?’

‘Bye then, dove,’ Torre’s voice sinks into you. ‘I’ll always be sorry.’

The transmission cuts.

Distracted by the insanity of what just happened, you miss Din’s question. He’s fiddling with settings on the HUD and, at your silence, looks back.

‘Huh?’ you ask.

‘I can’t aim for something like that and fly at the same time,’ he says. ‘So which do you want to do?’

‘Which do I--?’ You notice for the first time an addition to the instrument bank next to the flight chair you’re buckled into. A set of ship controls, twins to the ones Din’s got a hard grip on up front. Protruding just within reach. 

‘Had to get another ship mechanic to help install it, ‘m sorry,’ he says, watching you. ‘It was fiddly. The Crest did not want to cooperate. But we did it.’

‘Wh--,' you’re speechless. You reach over and they glide easily outward so you can orient them in front of you. Giving each an experimental twist, you feel the hefty tilt and take in the trigger buttons just by where your forefingers rest. ‘Oh wow… Din. But- I can’t--’

‘You can,’ he says. ‘I know it.’

Aware you can’t waste time on doubt, you heave a deep sigh. Looking at the ship holo, at the tiny opening Torre’s given you, your fingers hover over the triggers. Something inside you makes the choice. 

‘Aim,’ you say. ‘I’ll aim.’

Nodding, he spins back around and flips a switch. The controls under your palms hum with energy and a HUD blinks in front of you. The Crest shudders as its weapons system primes itself.

Hells, how are you going to fucking do this.

‘I’ll draw him onto us, tell me when you’re ready and I’ll give you an opening,’ he says. Without further ado, he pulls his own controls back and the Razor Crest soars. 

How are you going to do this.

The Mandalorian pilots his ship through a mess of crossfire and the occasional spacecraft trailing smoke and plummeting to the earth. The menacing looking ship of the outer-rim warlord comes into view and Din positions the Crest right in front of it, racing ahead and catching the enemy crew’s attention. Pulls serpentine manoeuvrers to dodge the laser fire that begins a bombardment.

How are you—

Static crackles over the comms and the sickly, savage voice of the figure you’ve had nightmares about fills the space. Delighted, arrogant and bloodthirsty. Cephlate waxes lyrical about finally having the opportunity to ‘destroy you Mando, and all you hold dear’.

But you’re barely taking it in, fixated on the targeting system and trying to fathom how you’re going to do this.  

How, how, how—

Spiralling thoughts are interrupted by a feather-soft tendril of energy nudging at the edge of your mind. It swirls against your consciousness and seems to await permission. 

You look over at Grogu, whose eyes are shut tight and hands twitch with power. The sense of connection within you grows brighter, promises aid. Begs entry.

‘Ready?’ Din calls.

‘We have this,’ you shout. Looking at the child, you let him and the Force flood your mind, whip through your senses and snake into your arms and hands, held firm on the controls. They hum harder, some awareness deep in the bowels of the ship slips into you, a quiet there you are, where have you been? You set your shoulders and shout, ‘Now!’

Din hurls a lever back and reefs on the controls. The Crest drops into a free fall. The rear thrusters cut and tip the boat so you’re looking up into the sky. Laser fire passes overhead as does Cephlate’s ship. The glint in the underside, the break in the shield, is plain as day to your heightened senses.

You, Grogu and the Crest lock onto it and your fingers move of their own volition, releasing a single pulse that streaks ahead. Where it hits home, exactly on target, a burst of crackling, festy grey energy widens from the spot, shimmering over the whole ship. The entire shield system drops away in a few heartbeats.

‘No!’ the warlord bellows. ‘You--!'

Din smacks the comms to another channel over the top of his cries. ‘Move in,’ he commands whoever’s on the other side. To you, ‘Keep firing!’

You’re already setting up to unleash an angry broadside along the bottom of the vessel. He hauls the thrusters back on and gives you a perfect bank for the barrage to take out its engine array. When the Crest clears the front of the ship, it wheels around and you can take aim at the top-mounted cannons.

You see several other Mandalorian jets and fighters move in weapons free, your little T-Wing among them. It and the rest send explosions to impact on all sides of the vessel. Your ship makes another turn and you get to pass again – feeling feral, you zero in on the bridge and send the bow of the ship up in flames.  

It’s not long before the monstrous dirigible is listing, tilting away from the centre of the fight, toward the chordal coast where the imps’ forward party had been encamped. It disappears over the rim of the small mountain range bisecting the landscape. Moments later, a spectacular explosion reaches toward the skies.

You watch it as the Crest’s trajectory evens out, sails across the cleared air. You scan the radar, friendly craft soar around you. 

Only the roar of wind and the groan of the ship fill the cockpit. You loosen your grip just slightly on the controls as a wide grin spreads across your face. You glance up at Din, seeing his shoulders steadily drop as he relaxes. You laugh.

‘Well that, felt incredible,’ you say. He starts to turn toward you.

A burst of static covers what he says back. A boisterous voice thunders over the speakers, declaring glorious victory and the imp forces scattering like baby womp rats, the jet-packed Mandalorians running them down with ease.

You listen, fidgeting a little as a weird pang starts to bother your side. 

The comms cuts to reports of mopping up but Din turns it to low, moving dials and flipping the landing gear into standby.

You keep your hands on the gunner grips in case any last-minute moves are needed, but try to sit up a little straighter to stretch out the tightness that is drawing your abdomen into a knot. The tension of the fight setting in, maybe?

Din leans back. ‘Guess we can head in,’ he says, moving to turn to you again. Your heart beats harder, damn near straining against your chest. ‘And maybe we can t—’

‘Ebbe!’

The tiny, panicked shriek from Grogu causes you both to whip around to him. Your concern twists your guts. A strange nervous vibration is working its way up your spine, into your skull and clouding your vision. Your mouth is filling with icy shards and your ears start ringing. 

‘Grogu?’ you say. ‘Baby, wha—’

‘No!’ Din surges from his chair.

‘Is he okay?’

‘Oh Gods, no, no, no!’

That’s when you realise that he’s not lunging at Grogu but toward you. And Grogu is fine, but he’s pointing to your middle with fear-filled eyes.

Din kneels before you and chants your name. ‘Hang on. Please just, hang on, love. Stay, stay with me, hey! Stay with me!’ His confusing demands grow fuzzy and further away as he talks.

You finally look down. The haze and hot tendrils clawing at your eyes make it hard to see, but that’s definitely something sticking out of your stomach. You move a hand to it. It’s hot, and vibrating with a quiet menace. Your fingers come away bloodied. ‘Ohhhh wha…’ You fade out.

--

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Forgive me.

Thank you so much for reading this weird little story.