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cartoonfanaticmonsterrobotalien · 2 years ago

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I’m here Yumyulack (Updated)

(artwork by Lysieloo, because I love it so much and I wish there were flashbacks of Yumyulack and Jesse when they were baby Shlorpians) Ever since Yumyulack gain his Super Shlorpian form, he’s been having issues, like controlling his anger or something. He even started to despise his hulk form because he ended up hurting people the last time.

One day, Yumyulack got into a fight that involves him punching a bully in the face when she was picking on Jessie while his beast mode was about to awaken. Principal Cooke then called Yumyulack to the principal office and then has him suspended for two weeks. His dads started to grow concern about their son as Yumyulack walks through the door.

Korvo: Yumyulack? We need to talk!

Yumyulack: growling What?!

Terry: Honey, I think it’s best if you be banned from your devices for a week. We’re really growing concerned about your anger ever since you gained a hulk form.

Yumyulack: Wha? The fuck! That bitch deserved it! She was pissing my sister off!

Korvo: We know but sighing while placing his hand on his head because of your anger, you got suspended for two weeks. You should’ve just let the grown ups handle this.

Yumyulack: Well, I hate my Supee Shlorpian form! eyes started to glow purple as he starts gooblering Ever since I had this fucking beast inside of me, my life started to fall apart! I couldn’t even hang with the headphone kids! Even Mark! Why can’t anyone understands the pain I am going through?

Korvo: Yumyulack, please! Just head to your room and calm the fuck do-

Yumyulack: tears threatening to burst Just leave me the fuck alone!

Korvo and Terry gasp in shock but concern as Yumyulack runs up to his room in tears. Jesse and the Pupa are also concern about their brother as they notice him running away crying up the stairs. Korvo sighs in dismay as he start gooblering.

Terry: I don’t understand, Yumyulack should be happy with his monster form ever since we got ours.

Korvo: sigh I know Terry, but he’s just feeling out of sorts ever since that first time he gained it. He’s usually like this ever since he was just an infant.

Flashback opens up on Shlorp thirteen years ago where it shows baby Yumyulack crying in his sleeping chamber while Korvo was working on something.

Baby Yumyulack: crying

Korvo: voiceover Yumyulack would always have night terrors during his bedtime and it really scares him so easily because he was just a sprout at that time.

Korvo then heads over to baby Yumyulack while sighing but then, notices how scared his baby was because of that night terrors that he had during Shlorp’s troubles times. He picks up baby Yumyulack and starts cradling him while soothing him. Baby Yumyulack then starts to calm down as he feels the heartbeat inside of Korvo’s chest that started to soothe him. Baby Yumyulack then touches Korvo’s left cheek as he smiles.

Baby Yumyulack: cooing

Korvo: voiceover I always knew whenever I do that, Yumyulack would always come down. As if he was reassured that he is safe and okay. When I am here with him, he would always be calm and quiet for a little sprout. Korvo then sits back down while holding and nurturing baby Yumyulack as the little sproutling falls asleep As an adult, you do everything you can to keep their Replicant safe, even though when they never feel like it.

The flashback ends as Korvo continue to look down sadly at the floor while Terry puts a comforting shoulder on his doting husband and Jesse and the Pupa looked worriedly at him.

Korvo: And now, I think ever since we landed on Earth, Yumyulack has always felt like he is a pest to everyone. sigh All because I stopped looking out for him ever since he started high school. sits up Y’know what? Maybe it’s best if I go upstairs and check up on him.

Jesse: Wait, I need to make sure he didn’t destroy any of my dolls. Because, y’know how edgy he can be.

Once Jesse heads upstairs, she opens the door but then screams, once she sees Yumyulack transforming as he grows bigger and muscular, and his skin turns black and his wings popped out.

Jesse: Oh no! Jesus Christ in vain! Not again! prepares to run downstairs to Korvo and Terry but then Yumyulack, whose eyes starts glowing purple tries to grab her as if he has having troubles restraining himself from transforming Huh? Yumyulack? What the fuck?

Yumyulack: No! grabs his hand away from Jesse as he finishes transforming I’m… s-s-sorry….. JESSE!!!!!!!!!

Yumyulack then finishes turning into a Super Shlorpian after his horns and wings as he roars. Jesse runs downstairs screaming as Korvo and Terry luckily stop her and hugs her for comfort. So did the Pupa as he grows worried about Yumyulack.

Pupa: Yumyulack?

Korvo: Aw fuck! Did he finally transform?

Jesse: gulps Yes.

Terry: Aw, our poor baby. He’s really stressed out. suddenly hears loud crashes coming from outside What the fuck is that?

Korvo: Oh shit! Not again!

Korvo, Terry, Jesse and the Pupa went inside Yumyulack and Jesse’s room, only to see a giant hole in the wall.

Jesse: God damn it, Yumyulack! Did you have to fucking almost destroy our room again?!

Korvo: Oh God. Yumyulack, please tell me you’re not-

Korvo then gasp and sees Super Shlorpian Yumyulack a giant hole in the manc ave room.

Korvo: Oh shit! Yumyulack! runs downstairs to the manc ave

Terry: Honey, wait for us!

Jesse: Oh Jesus! carried the Pupa in her arms

Korvo frantically opens the door and sees Super Shlorpian Yumyulack tearing the manc ave apart in stress and anger.

Super Shorpian Yumyulack: roaring as he breaks apart stuff

Korvo: Yumyulack, no! Be careful! Those glass can really hurt-

Suddenly, a glass part went into Super Shlorpian Yumyulack’s right shoulder as he yowls in pain. Blue blood starts drip down as Super Shlorpian Yumyulack whimpers in pain.

Korvo: Yumyulack! went over to Super Shlorpian Yumyulack immediately as he vouche for his son’s shoulder

Terry: went downstairs with Jesse and Pupa and saw Super Shlorpian Yumyulack hurt Oh no! Yumyulack!

Terry then uses the same technique P.A.T.R.I.C.I.A. Did to him when he injured his arm with a foosball by getting the part of the foosball device. But Super Shlorpian Yumyulack screams in pain as tears burst from his eyes but Korvo managed to come up and hug his replicant soothingly as he started to calm him down. Terry then got a bandage and wraps it around Yumyulack’s arm.

Korvo: Shh…. sees tears in Super Shlorpian Yumyulack’s eyes It’s okay. It’s okay. I’m right here. I see you Yumyulack. I see you. You’re not a monster. You’re not alone. I’m here for you. I promise, on this Earth, no will one will ever take your place. No matter how old you get, you’ll always be my son. Monster or no monster, you’re still Yumyulack Solar-Opposites. A noble bounty hunter, a brave young Replicant, a good brother and a wonderful son, even when you drive me fucking crazy. But you are never alone. I’ll always be with you. We all will.

Super Shlorpian Yumyulack then hugs Korvo as he began to cry while Korvo continue to sooth him softly as Terry hug Jesse and the Pupa for reassurance that their big brother is okay. Super Shlorpian Yumyulack then turns back into Yumyulack as he continue to cry.

Korvo: Shhhh. It’s okay. You’re safe Yumyulack. You’re always safe. Korvo is always here. My sweet brave little sprout…

Korvo then hugs Yumyulack as he started to calm down while Terry, Jesse and Pupa smile. Later, Yumyulack is in his room sadly sulking while Korvo comes in calmly.

Korvo: Are you okay kiddo?

Yumyulack: sigh No. tears were shed in his eyes

Korvo: Yumyulack, you’re scared. It’s okay to be scared.

Yumyulack: No, I’m not- sadly realized what happened earlier yes. I am.

Korvo: hugs his son Yumyulack, I know how hard it is to have a monstrous bloodline. And I know how scary it is to have an ability that can turn into a Super Shlorpian. But, I want you to know that, you are one of the bravest people I know that can control such anger. Heck, you even did an awesome job on weaponry. But I want you to know this Yumyulack. You’ll always be my child and you’ll still be Yumyulack on the inside, even if you look monstrous on the outside. I love you…

Yumyulack hug Korvo in tears as Korvo hugs him back while smiling, knowing that his Replicant knows that he is okay and his family are still there for him.

The end

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evilhorse · 1 year ago

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Jon!

(Action Comics #1057)

#action comics #Superman #clark kent #kal el #jon kent #jonathan kent #rescue #bursting in #flashback #father son relationship #reunited #yeah!#dan jurgens #lee weeks #dc comics #comics #2020s comics

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ask-missparker · 1 year ago

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You are loved / Once Upon A Time AU ✨

Romantic relationship: Snow x Charming

Relationship: Amelia x Nikolai

Friendships: Joshua & Belladonna, Nikolai & Marlene, Amelia & Cole

Mentioned character: Liane, Ethan, Marlene, Jeremy, Alexander etc

Setting: Enchanted Forest (pre dark curse) & post dark curse modern day

———

There were a couple of things in the world she wanted in.

Adventure, love and a family of her own in the future. She thought with the life she lived and the upcoming threats after her wedding day, it wouldn’t happen.

Nicholas wasn’t sleeping as well as he could in the very beginning. He was worried about him, his wife and their friends lives surrounding them.

After a while he relaxed due to his wife’s reassuring smile and comforting attitude towards him. He thanked her for it and pressed a kiss onto her lips whenever possible.

“We’ll be okay right?” He’ll ask.

She’ll hum, “Yeah, we will. He’s just jealous..”

“My brother probably just wanted to fear us all with his cruel behavior.”

“You know him better than anyone at times.”

He smirked, “How about we skip the dinner at home and head out over town?”

She blushed, “Say when.”

Which led to them spending their money around town for a horse ride, dinner and walk around the bay. The moon was shaped like crescent that night. It was a comforting night that set the mood for the rest of the weeks to come.

And come they did.

Two weeks later, she woke up early for breakfast but couldn’t stomach it all down like usual. Her husband joked how he must’ve been craving something else then as she rolled her eyes.

“What?” He said taking a few grapes off her plate, “I’m kidding. Are you feeling well?”

She hummed slowly taking another bite of her sandwich, “I feel okay, just not as hungry as I thought..I was dizzy yesterday but i was fine after a nap.”

“Oh my gods.”

“Oh my gods, what?”

“My mother always said love on a night of the moon was shining meant a special thing.”

She raised an eyebrow intrigued, “Go on.”

He didn’t even want to jump to conclusions but he continued, “My mother always like to say the moon is special, as well as the stars…like I was born on a stary evening in mid July, I proposed to you under the moonlight too..what if our child was made..?”

“…underneath a stary night filled the shining moon? You think we’re expecting?” She asked curiously biting her lip.

“What if we are.”

“Are we ready that?”

“With you by my side we are.”

She saw the twinkle in his eyes and held up a finger, “No, no wait!”

He grinned brightly tossing another grape into his mouth, “I’mma teach our son to ride horses, sword fight, learn poetry to win over the ladies and—sail a ship! Best pirate prince in all the land!”

“When he’s what? 2?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, honey. I’ll wait til he’s 4 to start.”

“Oh my, what if it girl?”

His grin grew and narrows his eyes, “She won’t be dating. Ever! But I will allow as many tea parties as possible, teach her to ride a horse too and learn to dance with her old man. Oh no, she’ll be gorgeous and try to steal too many hearts. But if she gets her heart broken, those guys better run!”

That sounds his wife to burst out laughing at the thought of his utter fear of when that would happened. All that matters is they will be loved and taken care of no matter what.

——

————

“They Supemaned me!” He exclaimed

“They what?” She questioned.

“They threw me into a box-”

“Technically it was a tree. Then it was turned into a wardrobe.”

“Box, tree, closet whatever same thing!”

“Your parents were trying to save you, save everyone for that matter. Half of the parents here had to make a decision to help their kid survive, luckily that got to have their parents here with them.”

Joshua sighed, “Mom could’ve gone with me.”

“She went into early labor.” She added.

“Couldn’t she have crossed her legs and try not to sneeze?”

Bella snorted at that one.

“You’re funny when you’re not thinking straight.” Bella commented with a half smile, “Anything else you wanna get off your chest before we get some serious coffee from the cafe?”

“I just want to know what was going on in their heads? I just met, well their cursed faces, and they seems like nice people..but what if we aren’t? What if we wake up and don’t recognize who their son is? I don’t even know them!” He exclaimed.

“Hm. Spend a day with me. Maybe you’ll change your mind.”

“I have been alone for so long, I tried searching for my parents since I was 8, Bell..you got lucky and got a pretty nice deal with a mom like Liane. But..”

“You fear they won’t feel the same way about you, because you weren’t around when they were first here. I get it, not having your parents together. But hang out with them, even if they don’t know who you are. See what happens. Now can we get coffee?”

He sighed and nodded. He felt a bit lost here, being in a position of helpless rage but not blinded by the slightest hint of hope. His mom is a nurse here who just woke up from a coma a while back having only been on a date with his father. And his father, he lives with the man but doesn’t even remember that’s his son right in front of him, yet he was kind enough to let him into his home.

He could tell them but he doesn’t know if they would believe a 16 year old stories about who his parents are. There is a part of him feels like this is all some twisted joke, that his parents aren’t Snow White & Prince Charming! And that Belladonna’s parents aren’t an Anti-Hero and a Heroic Spirit of the Enchanted Kingdom.

But his hopes are there and—

“Joshua!”

He was snapped out of his thoughts realizing they are inside the cafe and about to order. She was taking a bite out of her old fashion donut. Belladonna gave him a look to order something as the clerk waited for his response, he just gave her a quick order of coffee and a glazed doughnut. The woman nodded and told them to give her a moment, as she quickly returned with their coffees and the donuts.

Belladonna thanked the woman as Josh nodded with a smile muttering a soft thanks. The two sat in the coffee shop window chatting about schoolwork, what movie they can go see on Friday. Bella wanted a horror that she can mock for the plot and Josh wanted a comedic adaptation experience instead. The settled on a Scary Movie for a decent price, appointing plot about mocking Scream and having an entertainment viewing hour.

He was talking about the recent rewatching of a Supernatural episode she recommended to him earlier when Belladonna’s gaze turned to the outside of the storefront to The Tattoo Shop instead. Watching how her mother walked out of there holding her wrist and carrying a bag of paperwork instead, looking rather odd—well odder than usual. She wondered what exactly did Alexander have her do this time, as she grabbed her friends’s wrist dragging him to the shop despite his sudden protest of wanting a decent evening.

The two entered the store finding Marlene up front instead at the flower shop or cafe where she usually works.

She asked what were they doing here and not in school, as Bella bluntly said, “Half a day.”

Joshua sneaked past her and found Nik in his office who was biting a bear-claw donut, not looking his usual self. He was about to ask him how did he get in here but decided against it and instead wondered what happened.

“What happened to you?” The teen asked.

“Just got work to do. I was finishing up a small batch of tattoos.” He replied.

“Miss St. James tattoo.”

“I—That’s private client information I cannot expose to you.”

“What did she want?”

“She wanted a tattoo and to hand me some paperwork. End of discussion, Joshua.”

“But-“

“End of conversation.”

Bella suddenly walked in motioned to a stask of papers on the desk signed by City Hall about taxes and property rights.

“Did it have to do with legal matter?” She asked.

“I’m sorry but that is none of either one of your business to know.” Nik replied.

“It has your brother written all over it. What did my mother say?”

“Belladonna, sweetheart, if you want answers go ask her. And Josh, you and I will have a conversation about this at home.”

“We just want to know what’s going on. It’s just a question.”

As the two kept talking about the situation, the young brunette began to look over the paperwork. It seemed to highlight the fact that Nik isn’t ringing in as many customers for tattoos or piercing as he hoped. The taxes were being raised Alexander himself and if he didn’t have any money by the end of the month. He will need to pay up or shut down his business.

He pretended to scroll through his phone, taking a picture of the document, then walked out without saying anything. Bella followed behind him, trying to keep up with his pace noticing how he was going down to Town Hall. She looked impressed by his determination but concerned about his actions.

~~~~

Belladonna was honestly interested in how this was going to play out, following himself inside sneaking them into the ground floor past the doors and knocking into the office. The man in the office called for the person to come in assuming that his assistant was probably on break and didn’t bother to tell him.

He looked up to see both teens as his eyes heated in annoyance and disbelief at the sight.

But he held his composure and said, “Hello Belladonna, and Mr. Nolan I presume. If it’s a legal matter, you know who to ask for.”

Belladonna raised an eyebrow pacing up to his desk and nods, “On the contrary, this includes you. We all know you’re not the most liked man in town, but you do have a presence to uphold, and I take it you rather keep it that way.”

“You’re really telling me something I don’t know. Belladonna, dear, what is it that you want to know. My budget cuts on the school? My relations with your mother? Or that fact that I have an appointment with my brother to get to?”

“Ah, so you do know what I mean. I want to know what exactly are you making my mother do for you. You’re just a boss to her, yet she is working overtime. What is it that you have over her?”

“She is only lawyer in town until further notice. I need her close by to make sure this town runs smoothly, before you were born, me and her were friends. Not just business partners.”

“I find that hard to believe. She has been doing your duty work and I won’t let you make her go mad with stress.”

“I can see why she loves you so much. Now why are you here or does your little friend want to answer that?”

“You’re having the Tattoo Parlor removed soon if the owner doesn’t pay up. Sorry to hear that not everyone of your loyal subjects aren’t willing to get a tattoo or piercing. I suggest you contact your brother or you will be making less profit on taxes payments!”

“Belladonna watch your mouth or I’ll—“

“You’ll what?! Call my mother? Or my father who you have made bluntly clear that you hate.”

“You have been pushing your agenda here.”

“I’m not afraid of you.”

Joshua spoke up, “Bella, please stay outside. Cool off, I’ll meet you in the hallway.”

He placed a hand over her shoulder with a small nod, he decided to let her speak her mind first before getting a moment alone but he wasn’t going to let her get in trouble with her parents. Her glares on Alexander lessened as she looked over at her friend with a small nod walking away into the hallway, she knew the man was fuming at her words secretly but wasn’t quite ready to admit it.

He waited for her to close the doors behind her then began to watch Alexander who was standing over his desk at that point ready to pick up the phone and call security to make both of them exist the facility. But it clear he wasn’t going anywhere yet with that potential threat, as the tall man just seemed to watch the brunette he haven’t properly met yet until now.

He took a breath to regain his confidence and blinked before saying, “Mr. Nolan. I see you can’t stand for arguments. I apologize our first meeting was started in just an odd way.”

He nodded, looking around the office then sat down on the chair in front of the desk and replied, “It’s alright. I came here to speak to you about something, Bella clearly got the ball rolling on that topic.”

“Yes the parlor and the tattoo artist who runs it. What of it?”

“You’re raising the price too high and his taxes shouldn’t be higher than others. No one’s taxes should be as high nor lower than most. I mean you’re family, shouldn’t brothers stick out for one another?”

“And why do you care? My brothers business is nothing of your concern, your a child, unless he meant something to you.”

“Because I’m living with him. He took me as his roommate and I understand that what I’m saying isn’t fair because I have payed taxes myself but if my sibling were in charge of a business..I would cut them some slack.”

Alexander has heard from Liane’s talkative self that she knows about his brother current situation and the town’s problems, always trying to reason with him about the serious matters of the place they live in. He would have laughed because his lawyer knew more than she can chew and the fact that his brother was babysitting some reckless teenager was beyond him.

“Let me ask you something, Mr. Nolan. Why do you care? What do you know about family or taking care of a business? How much money goes into it?” He asked waiting for his response, wonder how he will react.

“Not much, sir. I don’t have any family members that I know of. But I have helped out with volunteer projects but big business is about community development and resources.” He responded.

“There’s my point. You know nothing about of experience within the industry or family pains to worry about. You’re nothing but an individual who got lucky enough that my brother took you in. Son, I advise you to stay out of it or I’ll have a grand day having you be put on the streets of my town.”

“Or what? I have been a street kid since I was born, sir. How can we get the place to stay in business?”

“If you can afford enough money to pay off that loan from the bank then you’ll be fine. But then again, even with the mortgage payment and money saved, you won’t get as many people coming in to convert into clients. And beside, you’re just a child. You got nothing to prove.”

Joshua just said a simple ‘Okay. I understand. It won’t happen. Thank you’ as he thanked Alexander for taking a moment to speak to him. But the moment he walked out and met Bella in the hallway something came over him that he couldn’t explain but he didn’t want to give up. It was like Belladonna could see the expression on his face changed as clearly as day, remembering the tales of his parent and her mother talking to one another in the book.

She smirked having a non verbal conversation with him. The words that came across seemed almost daring, clever and passive to believe.

The two talking points were made of a plan to rally the public against the current situation and bring awareness to the issue. This town was a tightly packed community, they would work together if needed. Nikolai watched as they entered the building once again explaining to him the idea. He was furious and concerned about the fact that they went to speak with his brother who was not one to reason with. He just stayed there with his arms crossed listening.

Until he spoke up, “Let me get this straight you want to raise awareness to the business by having sales and special services for people? That won’t exactly help that much.”

“Why not?” Joshua asked.

“Because not everyone wants to get a needle against their skin that might be something permanent..”

“Is there any marketing tactic that could be applied to this idea?”

Nikolai watched both kids with narrow eyes thinking for a moment about an opportunity he might have missed and how it might help now.

He looked around at the room where Marlene was tattooing a client and the wall that depicted both stores, then back at the teenagers.

He hummed, “Market the place. Combing both businesses together can rain in more sales opportunities and create a new community that will benefit everyone.”

“I’m not following.” Bella asked this time.

“Marlene runs the cafe next door and I run this place. We have thought about combining both sides of coin for years but never had the chance to do.”

“Well you do now. Make it a group effort for the town, where you both get the profits at the end of the day. I can convince my father to help and break down a wall.”

“Oh jeez. If you’re gonna do it, you do it my way. Both you will give out flyers, post it on media, and rally up the tropes—Mar?”

“Yeah?” She yelled from the room, pausing a tattoo she was doing on Rick’s arm.

“Get your hammer we’re gonna make some extra space later!” He shouted over his shoulder.

“Oh hell yes!”

“One wall.”

“Damn it!”

A part of Nikolai thought he was going to regret this decision, but as he looked over to see both teens on one of the computer using a Google Doc to create flyers to print out, he smiled thinking the possibility this could bring.

He does wonder, what made them want to help out in the first place?

Belladonna and Joshua set off to work making flyers and printing them out. Bella gets Geo, Gina and Riley in line having them help spread the word on the newly made announcement. She sends them to the school to tell teachers and parents, as well Bruce’s diner knowing plenty of people will be there. Easily enough, she was able to convince her father to join in and knock down a few walls to create some space.

Ethan was willing to give it a try and help out, having Rick swing around a hammer meanwhile he starts bringing in the pillars for the new walls.

Joshua stays behind rolling up his sleeves putting on a hard hat and design the new place. Nikolai was bringing in more wood yelling for Marlene to break careful when he looked over his shoulder to see the boy working with a sharpie marker instead of a normal pencil.

He asked ‘why a sharpie?’ as Josh just said that he liked it better than way, it brings more impactful lines and versatile surfaces. Nikolai simply nodded, he was the same way when it came to his art using a sharpie instead, another thing in common aside from the coffee style he both loved.

Cole was sitting outside Bruce’ diner watching that both stores were shut down for remodeling as he smirked having gotten a flyer from Riley earlier. He decided it was time to pay a visit to his nephew and then possibly his niece afterwards.

Joshua was tasked to get an extra first aid kit from the hospital to add to the supply closet as the adults kept working on other things. He was about to argue against it knew it would be another chance to explore the town and its people.

~~~~~~~

———————

The castle was shinning bright despite the cloudy day. She knew it was early to tell but Amara couldn’t help but start decorating the nursery. Only a few weeks along and she already collecting tiny items to put on the shelves, such as toy knights, blocks with letters craved in them, stuff bears.

The crib stayed in the middle with a nicely made pillows inside, neutral colored blankets, and a couple of blankets. She placed a hand over her small bump and chuckled as she played with the fabrics slayed across her.

“Are you gonna name your child after me?”

She turned around and sighed giving the man in question a look. She giggled turning to see him sitting on the floor played with a stuffed rabbit gifted from Melissa a few weeks ago.

“And why do you want that?” She asked putting her hands on her hips.

“Because I’m your best friend and hopefully The Godfather of that kid. It’s only fair.” He repiled with a giggle placing a hand on her belly, “Oh damn girl your gonna get fat.”

She mocked gasped, “I hate you.”

“You love me.” He added grinning, “I’m kidding you look beautiful.”

“Thank you. Morning sickness is a bore. But I like it all.”

“You know I can use magic to take away the-“

“No! No magic, I want an all natural thing. I told you already, I can suck it up.”

“Atta girl. Sooo what am I getting? Niece or Nephew? Please let it be a girl I want tea parties and to show her to punch a some guy in the face.”

“You want a niece?”

“Duh. Play dress up all day. But if I get a nephew, I can go on adventures with him and we can play dress up too. Either way I’mma spoil them.”

“That’s what worries me. You be the one to show my son to get in trouble and give me a headache.”

“That’s my job as an uncle to give the parents a headache and I become their favorite.”

The two chuckled.

Amara asked, “What brings you here today?”

“I live here.” Cole added.

“I know that. Why are you in the nursery and not out at a tavern?”

“Ah well..”

With a flick of his wrist a cute little mobile designed with little bees, little sunflowers and a little suns to match. He grinned twirling the tiny bee around before magically sticking it on the crib. He asked if she liked it as all the princess could do was nod and smile not expecting a gift from today.

“I-is there a price?” She asked.

“No price.” He replied.

“Any other gifts?”

“One.”

“Hmm?”

“Remember the blanket you want to make for them?”

“Yeah?”

“When I find out my little bee’s gender, I will add whatever needed to the blanket as well as their name.”

“You don’t need their name for that. I can do that.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because you’ll change it to you’re name!”

Cole placed a hand over his chest in a dramatic manner and scoffed, “I’ll never do that! I mean I could..but I won’t! What names are you thinking?”

Amara reaches into the crib and played with the fabric of the blanket she in the process of making as she hummed, “We want J names for our first child—“

“First child? You’re gonna be popping out more babies for me to babysitting afterward?!”

“One day relax! Not now my gods. But yes Nik recommend ‘J’ names because of Jeremy’s name—”

“What about me? I’m important, aren’t I?”

“I’m getting to it, wait!”

“Alright, alright I’ll relax. What else are you doing?”

“I was thinking ‘C’ name for a middle name. Like Conner, Christopher, Colton and even Caspian for a small flare.”

“Pick Colton. It’s similar to Cole, I made my vote.”

She giggles and nods, “We’re thinking on it. Don’t worry. For ‘J’ names we want Jone, Joshua, Jace and uh, Jaxon.”

“I like Jona and Joshua. My little Joshy Colton.” He added with a grin.

“And for girl maybe Daria, Abigail, Leia and Layla.”

“Hm I like Leia, sounds like a princess. Ooh Nicole for a girl, has my name in there too.”

“You’re funny.”

“I know. But I’ll stick with Colton or Christoper.”

~~~~~

Joshua arrived at the hospital carrying his backpack on one shoulder, signing for a visitors pass for the moment. He pulled out the flyers for the grand opening of the joint stores as he requested for a first aid kit for the nurses. One of them nodded rushing to find one, allowing him to hang up the printed papers on the walls.

The hallway he was in rather quiet for being a hospital. Yes, there were machines going off every once in a while and sounds of shoes clapping the floor but it wasn’t anything loud or terrifying.

He was hanging up one the bulletin board, when a doctors slammed a door so hard as two nurses followed behind them. The sound startled him where he stupidly pinned a staple from the very stapler he was using to his pin finger.

He didn’t even feel a single thing as the adrenaline was warning his system, but soon enough as he wore off he hissed. He stopped everything he was doing rushing to find a nurse to help him, a couple were busy but he heard one call him over saying they can help.

He didn’t waste a moment as he sat down on a bed feeling like a baby for hissing and wincing at a mere stapler in his skin. But the nurse didn’t seem to mind asking him questions as she prepared her tools. Josh didn’t even look up at the nurse due to the pain he was slowly in and he huffed, he took a breath and closed his eyes as his gaze fell on the nurse.

She smiled back at him. He blinked for a moment holding out his hand meeting blue-green eyes, tan skin and warm smile. He would’ve melt by the light touch and soft gaze she did smoothing over his worries.

He didn’t expect to see her today. Last he heard she was at the cafe shopping work—not as a nurse?! Here in front of him stood Amelia Spencer—Snow White—his mother. His mother was taking care of his wound and she didn’t even know it. He was worried about seeing her again due to his fears that she might not like him or worse, not care for him.

He was dropped in and out of foster homes when he was younger, he had mothers who were nice caring for their every need and some who were there for the money. He experienced both. The fathers too. He didn’t want to get his hopes up that she will be gentle and darling now but once she wakes up, she won’t treat him the same way.

But when he meet her eyes, it melts away somehow. He felt conflict, he wanted his parents together and to see the curse broken but he feared the vision in front of his eyes.

Did his mother expect him to be a knight? A prince? A good boy with morals and values? Did she expect him to be hardworking? Have skills like her and his father?

Will she love him even if he just a teenager with decent grades, a little shy, dressed like a character on a CW series and a act for running his mouth at times? He wasn’t great a plenty things he’s a good kid. Humble, kind, helpful, compassionate and imaginative a lot. He’s always been a bit of a creative dreamer. But he was forgetful a times.

“Josh? Joshua, honey, how are we feeling?” She asked, before pulling out the rest of the stapler she wanted to make sure he was okay.

He seemed to zone out, looking down for a moment he half smiled and repiled, “Mhm hmm..I’m..I’m alright.”

“What is it? I’m trying not to make it be too painful, bubba.”

“Just um..I have my mind on a lot of stuff..”

“School? Friends?”

“..a bit more than that.”

She kept his mind distract simply talking as she removed the other end of the stapler, adding pressure to the wound with gauze, he moaned and grunted at the sudden feeling. She hushed his winced with a couple of smoothing hums.

“You’re a trooper.” She said with a smile, “I had an old man scream out in pain and whimper yesterday when I removed a splinter.”

That made Joshua chuckled brightly as his face light up a soft smile and replied, “Wow.”

“There’s a pretty smile. You’re gonna be fine, honey.”

“Sorry..”

“For what?”

“You were probably heading on a break or something..”

“No it’s fine, I’m here to help. That’s what matters. Now mind telling me what’s on my patient’s mind?”

“I was just thinking about..no one has ever treated me this kindly before. I won’t ever know if my own parents would’ve been this..”

“Hey look at me.”

He hesitated for a moment before meeting her eyes again for the 3rd time.

She gently lay a finger underneath his chin as she softly grin and said, “Look at where you are now. No one is perfect but all that matters that you are okay, safe and sound..I only met you twice and I can tell you are a good kid. Whoever you’re parents are, they gave you up to give you the best chance possible..”

His eyes watered slightly with big eyes as he sucked in a breath, “Sometimes I think I’m not worth all of this..I have spend years searching for my parents..nothing came up.”

“Maybe you weren’t looking in the right place, sweetie..”

He chuckled dryly remembering the tales of Snow White being the kind women, seeing the good in others and caring yet strong. Hardworking at best, her words try to be honest with whoever can came across. It was like for a moment Amelia slipped into that side of herself, talking to her child who needed a pick-me-up or something.

“You sound like a mom..I know you lost you’re memories in the accident but were you at some point a figure to someone?” He asked with a glimmer of hope in his eyes.

She smiled taking a breath thinking for a moment as she replied, “I had a sister when I was younger..I remember that. But I always wanted to be mom..I would remember if I was one..why?”

“It’s silly..but you just feel like you were one.”

“Well if you ever need anything, you can always knock on my door. I’m always at the diner.”

“R-really?”

“Yeah. But if you do something dumb that will get us trouble, that’s why you live with Nik and not me.”

He nodded laughing thinking she’s not half bad. They were talking the whole time, he forgot about the pain and didn’t even notice the fact that she wrapped his small wound after applying pressure. She left for a moment and brought paperwork asking for his full name. Just as a Joshua was about to say his full name a voice stood out from the room.

“Joshua C. Nolan.” Said the voice.

The light brunette looked up at the voice with ginger brown curls, a thick yet welcoming accent and piercing blue eyes. He held a smile to his tone walking in to greet the boy in which he shook his head. Josh was a little surprise that this man knows his name, but he wondered how much.

Amelia watched the two of them asking, “D-do you know each other?”

The ginger turned around and grinned, “Why, in a way yes darling. Cole, nice to meet ya.”

“Ah yes. Cole. I heard about you. You run the cozy little pond shop downtown. Are you here to pick him up?”

“Mhm hmm. His guardian was wondering where he was and I came to make sure if he was alright. He originally came here for flyers and a first aid kit but ended up hurt. You alright, love?”

Josh realized the last part was directed to him as he nodded with a smile. Something about him was calming with a sense of mischief to him, like he shouldn’t exactly trust him but he does. Amelia nodded at Cole and boy deciding to believe what was going on, having Cole sign the forms real quick. As he did, she gave the boy her phone number on a piece of paper before releasing them both to the streets of the town.

As they entered the streets of the town, the two were silent. Cole watched him as they walked to his shop, noticing how much he looked like his parents. He couldn’t help but smirk. He led them inside closing the door behind them, grabbing two glasses of water as he moved to the back of his shop behind closed doors.

‘Ok I’ll play. How do you know my name?”

“Ah yes your name, Joshua Christoper Colton…Nolan.”

“Christoper Colton? Are you drunk?”

“A little Vodka this morning but I’m good as day.”

“Wait how do you know my middle name? I don’t even know it…”

“Ohh right you don’t! It’s funny really. Your mom wanted Christopher but I REALLY wanted Colton. So I combined them in my head to save both side of the coin the trouble. At the end of the day I’m wrong, she’s right. But we both know we’re be arguing about that til the dawn of time.”

“I’m sorry what?” Josh asked trying to make sense of all that is going on.

Cole slumped, “You may got your father’s looks and smart impulse but you got your mother slow ass brain.”

“Hey!”

“Don’t worry, it’s cute, she knows I kid about that.”

“How do you know my mother?”

“Ohh! I forgot to introduce myself. Two lives smashing together in one head. I’m Cole Morgan. Also known as..”

“Rumpelstiltskin…”

“Ahh so you heard of me. Good, your brain is picking up speed, love. Me and your parents are good friend. I’m also your uncle.”

“M-my what?”

“You’re uncle dearie. Well one of your uncles. You got a few aunties and uncles that you’ll find out about later.”

“If you’re my uncle and you know my parents…tell me something I do know.”

Cole grinned this time and chuckled, “You’re a bit of artist, well versed in pop culture it’s how you and Bella were able to solve a few cases around town with Ethan, you love coffee but prefer hot chocolate with the tiny marshmallows..oh and my favorite, carry around a keychain with a tiny monkey on it.”

The man also explained how he knew what is going on in the town, if they needed anything he is one to call but don’t ever push him too far or he will bite. Joshua blinked thinking that he was stalker but then remember that his town is weirder than expected and his parents are from another land.

He sighs, “..I like bears too.”

“Mhm yeah I noticed the patches on your backpack of a little old bear. It’s cute. I like to think I had a thing to do with it too.” He added with a shrug with smiling softly.

“What do you want from me?”

“I’ve been watching you and Belladonna for a while now. She seems fine by all accounts for now, but you’re the one who is acting weird lately. I understand the reason why, don’t need to explain it, but your doubting yourself here. You’re meant to be here right now.”

“You’re the 3rd person to say that to me today.”

“I know. Give it time and you’ll see what I mean. Now go on, I have business to attend to.”

“But I—“

“I said my piece. I have spoken, goodbye, nephew.”

The boy took a sip of the water looking over his shoulder oddly then left.

~~~~~

He felt like a hurricane rushed though him, so many things are happening and it felt like he can’t catch his breath. First the bubbling feelings of his past come to surface, then he hurts himself by accident and how he has a showcase of skills he didn’t know he had with pushing his father into combing two separate careers into one. He might throw up from the headache he’s having.

He took a breath, adding pressure to his hand and exhales knowing he had to keep going soon it will be all over. He stepped inside the building that was being redesigned with walls being torn down and others being put up. He was surprised to see what resulted in his plan. But what surprised him was the very fact that it wasn’t just Ethan, Marlene and Nik helping to put the place in order but Rochelle, Rick and Melissa lending a helping hand.

Some kids were helping out with drawing designs for the wall, carrying paint cans, holding up wood for the adults. He knew it wasn’t gonna be finished all in one day but so far this was an amazing start. He noticed Bella lending a few tips and tricks, watching over the kids as he decided to join her. She noticed his hand was wrapped up as he shrugged telling her that he will talk to her about it later. She nodded with a very light smile raising an eyebrow guessing what might’ve happened to him.

——

————————

Days turned into nights as the town each took time out of their day to lend a helping hand. Things were going smoothly, days after day things got prettier for the store. Civilians of the town came to pitch ideas, raise the banners and lift some newfound furniture.

Marlene and Nik’s place couldn’t look more better, getting the update it desired for years. It was late in the afternoon, as Joshua was organizing chairs outside the Cafe-Tattoo Parlor or as the owners liked to call it M&N’s Star Lounge, with Riley and the twins. Amelia, Jeremy, Liane, Luna and the others were indoors having drinks with the rest of the customers meanwhile others were getting tattoos done. The younger members were called inside by their parents as Joshua gave a soft smile. That was when Nikolai entered with extra flowers to place on the tables.

He noticed the look on his face and walked over, “What’s the matter?”

“I uh, just have been wondering lately was all of this worth it..” He admitted, knowing he meant something else.

“It is, Josh. You kickstarted something amazing here, hell, you deserve a whole week of free coffees and donuts on the horse for what you did.”

“And a free piercing?”

“Don’t get that excited. Whatever it is that is going on, you can tell me.”

“Um..”

He thought about it for a spilt second but it would sound insanely weird out here in public, beside a part of him believed he wouldn’t exactly come to his senses yet. But he could try, later on when things settled down.

He bit his lip and half smiled, “I’ll tell you at home.”

Nik wanted to say something, seeing something in Joshua as he hesitated, as if he saw himself for a moment. But before he could added that piece of information, Rick called for them to come inside as he turned on the lights to the storefront, as the two rushed inside watching the sign bright up the streets officially announcing to the night sky they were more than open for business.

Little did they all know, there was one customer who wasn’t invited nor dared to step inside as he walked past the street sign. He scoffed taking a glance noticing the kids with their respected adults inside the cafe all smiling. He made him sick, no one was supposed to be that happy over some stupid plain old cup of coffee and some saggy stack of art on the wall that could be printed on their body.

His eyes darted to each one of the adults and youngsters inside the store, from Jeremy to the freaking twins. His eyes landed on his brother and forgettable wife, who he sadly doesn’t remember a blasted thing about. None of them did.

Someone cleared their throat, standing beside him. He dropped his gaze over to the ginger man dressed in nothing but a black coat and a beanie for the cold weather.

He clutched his teeth at the man’s smirk as he asked, “What you looking at?”

“I’m looking at you.” He replied with the smirk plastered on his face like a big ol’ ‘you’re gonna lose’ tattoo on his forehead.

“Hilarious. What do you want?”

“More like, what is that you want mister mayor. You townsfolk look calm, collected and enjoying themselves, isn’t that what supposed to happen?”

“Not when I’m the one who isn’t. Who put this whole shit together? Those middling teens? That rounding adults?”

“I would say that it were the adults idea, yes. My husband did have a hand in building the sign, crafty man isn’t he?”

The older brute just glared, “Who did this?”

“I think you already know.” He added shaking his head as his teeth shined in the streetlights.

“Belladonna and his friend..first her mother, then her father..what’s next?”

“That’s up to you, but I wouldn’t go too far in your plan. Because from where I’m standing, everyone is in high spirts. All as it should be. Now if you resume to glare under the pole you’re standing under, I’m going to grab myself a donut. Goodbye, your highest”

That one word caused Alexander to add pressure to his teeth, realizing this man was awake from his damn curse, and if was, then there was a chance others were too. It made him wonder if Cassie, or any one of the adults have gotten their grip on reality yet…

Cole stepped away smirking as he hummed a tune he heard on the radio, “The winner takes it all. The loser has to fall..”

“Who’s the boy?” Alexander barked back.

“Hm?”

“Don’t play coy with me, Morgan. Who’s Bella’s friend? Mr. Nolan..”

“I thought you would’ve guessed by now, but I guessed not.”

“What are you..”

“I guess someone has been drinking the hard liquor lately.”

Alexander was quiet for a moment recounting his week, Joshua’s face to his whole act. The eyes, his nose, the hair, and his form of deciding to go against his ways of thinking to form something else. The shy looks he gave along with the very fact that he came alone with a parental figure. He closed his eyes shaking his head, his brother’s kid.

Snow and Charming’s son.

He was surprised he didn’t get that fact sooner. All of these guys children were here and standing from Cinderella to Ace Of Heart’s offspring, it should’ve been obvious to him.

He knew with all the families coming together, friends becoming partners in crime and the rules changing beneath his feet. Soon they will be woken up from their slumber and railing against him as he was petty imagine of his former self.

No magic, only the glares, threats and ties to the town to back him up. He would be doom, unless he made a few little distractions and reached underneath those people’s sense of hope, choking them into darkness.

He already had a few subjects in mind to break two birds with one stone. He already had Ethan and his loved ones in mind. If one falls, the others start crumbling into pieces just as easily as they were built to begin with.

Starting with his nephew…

———

That’s all folks! Tell me what do you think about?

Tags: @missstrawbs2001 @purpleprincessonfyre @meiramel @gcthvile @rickb-chaos @gaminggirlsstuff @wizzzardofoz @thechoooooosenone @sherloquestea @luna-d-marsh @rooster-84 @thecavalrywife @cherrysft etc

#mother and son #ouat au #father and son #ask missparker #fanfic series #fantasy au #flashback fic #present day fic #once upon a time au #once upon a time fanfiction #mia & cole #cole lensherr #liane felton #ben barnes #uncle and nephew

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the-kittylorian-writes · 2 years ago

Text

"In Dreams, We Wake" (2/?)

Fandom: Star Wars - The Mandalorian

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences Type: Multi-chapter Status: Ongoing Warnings: Season 3 spoilers, graphic depictions of violence (some chapters), ptsd, subjects on grief & mourning Story Summary: Two years have passed since Ragnar lived the creed without his father. The boy keeps a facade, hiding his true nature as he leads a double life.

Between his roles as Mandalorian apprentice and heir to an ancient House, Ragnar is willing to weave through a complex path that haunts him and the Vizsla name—if only his father were there to see him again. Perhaps, Paz Vizsla will.

The question remains for Ragnar: What would he do and how far would he go for the father he loves?

Read on AO3 (w/ author's notes) or here:

Chapter Summary: Ragnar remembers his life before Paz Vizsla came to his rescue, and the time after Mandalore’s reclamation. Axe and Ragnar make their way to a final stop before returning to Mandalore.

Chapter Warning: Child endangerment; child fatality (only mentioned) ~Chapter 2: Of Agony and Joy~

Ragnar never trusted strangers. He had been raised from infancy to be wary of the world outside of the family in which he had been born. There would always be people watching, his birth mother kept reminding him. Those people wished their family ill and wanted them to neither succeed nor prosper.

He had always been a self-sufficient and self-possessed child. He led the typical life of a youngster whose parents were high profile on his home planet; they were often dreadfully busy, and a few relatives would pay visits to watch over him, but with a detached manner Ragnar understood. It was hard to keep emotional attachments with someone whose life precariously hung on a proverbial string.

They said he had an older brother, kidnapped for ransom but was killed as he tried his best to escape. Ragnar had never met his older brother, who was but eight standard years when he perished. Two months after the tragedy, Ragnar was born.

Ragnar was the only child ever since. There was father and mother: doting, then absent, then doting again, in a maddening cycle which Ragnar eventually grew accustomed to. He decided not to begrudge his parents. He knew about their lifetsyle; he’d read about it in holobooks, sometimes articles so well-hidden in the archives—fatal harm placed on families such as his, mostly politically motivated, oftentimes—and to Ragnar’s own horror—with successful attempts. His older brother unfortunately was testament to that.

The world for Ragnar consisted of his tutors, sports on the HoloNet where he remotely played with other politicians’ children, and rare, heavily guarded trips with either of his parents but never both of them at once. He was always under supervision. He had never any real time by himself. There was always security detail with him, and they had refused to play with him despite some of them being surprisingly young, barely into their twenties.

So Ragnar played alone or with the kids through the HoloNet projector.

He had learned to only trust himself. He couldn’t even bring himself to trust his own parents. Everyone else in their household all had a job to do. They were paid well and did their work as they should, eyes glazed and almost unseeing, faces faintly smiling at a young boy who ran through the vast halls with no reprimand. Ragnar was ignored for the most part.

One day, Ragnar just developed a sensing.

He was six years old when he first felt it—a fleeting touch like a brush of a finger on one’s shoulder to get their attention. He knew how people felt somehow; he knew how sincere they were or how contrived, how happy they were or miserable or just plain nonchalant. They never had to speak to him or even glance at him. Sometimes, they don’t even have to be in the same room as him.

His seventh and eighth year of life passed by rather uneventfully, which gave the household a temporary yet false sense of peace. Perhaps they were no longer terribly important political targets. His parents adopted a lower profile afterwards, convinced that that was the solution, and their presences were only felt by the masses through their philanthropies.

The ninth and tenth year resumed with tumult. They had to move districts, and finally, they were as good as isolated—a mansion hidden in the mountains, accessible only by small hovercraft. Ragnar’s sensing returned again, and he knew very well that being far off from civilization made little difference. In fact, they were more vulnerable here, hidden away from the main city where all manner of help were situated should they direly need it.

Mother and father were properly convinced once more that this was how they would lead their lives until at least Ragnar’s sixteenth birthday. If the boy wanted, he could take on their line of work, or think of another one—but it had to be prestigious.

Ragnar didn’t know much about the Galactic War which ended a few years after he was born. He knew little of the outside world, so to speak, and he’d rather remain ignorant of it. At the back of his mind, whether his parents conceded to it or not, he would never choose their line of work. He wanted to form a different worldview for himself when he grew older. How his parents conducted themselves—none of that appealed to Ragnar. He had been left alone for most of his life and he did what he wanted despite dozens of watchful eyes upon him. He wished to do away with those overly vigilant and hard gazes. Perhaps he can be a pilot. He’d fly away from there, take all manner of hyperspace lanes and just disappear.

He had only trusted himself—and he wondered if he would ever learn to trust another. The servant droids didn’t count.

Until another, much larger inexplicable tragedy one day, a large warrior covered in armor from head to toe rushed into Ragnar’s horizon.

A sensing overcame Ragnar then. It was as if he knew of the warrior before, coming from another place and time—warm and whole like a blanket of light; yet everything else about the warrior was unfamiliar.

The sensing had told him that he could trust that armor-clad warrior.

Ragnar hadn’t known about the Force. He had also never known of Mandalorians until then. While he knew of the latter far sooner than he’d ever guessed, knowledge of the former came much later, and in quite unexpected ways. *

It was sometime on 10 ABY when Paz Vizsla needed to depart the Glavis ringworld to find others of their scattered Covert.

It had been a year since many among their Tribe had lost their lives in the desolate sewers of Nevarro, swarmed by overwhelming numbers of Imperial troops—uncanny for a mere Remnant. The Tribe were skilled warriors who had grown rusty, drowning in a routine which dulled their senses into complacency when they should have been eternally vigilant. The darkness of Nevarro’s subterranean tunnels wore them all down, save for Din Djarin who had become their sole provider. Only Din fully saw the light of day, and he had been gone many cycles at a time.

Paz was among those tasked to protect and evacuate the Covert should disaster strike. Fellow Mandalorians who had fallen in that siege were adamant that Paz should be their last resort. Let him conserve his strength and munitions for when the time came to unequivocally defend their little foundlings. Let Paz be the white-hot fire raining upon the enemy with his ruthless blaster canon as the foundlings found more avenues of escape and areas of safety.

In the end, things didn’t go as planned. Half the Covert was decimated, and their numbers were already piteously small to begin with. The surviving half needed to split into tinier groups to drift across the galaxy, hide on other worlds and wait for word. The Armorer had only been Paz’s constant companion during those prolonged days of grief which numbed him completely for a moment. No prayer or incantation stifled the pain in his soul, and he spent those long months tracking down the rest of the Covert and keeping tabs on them once they were found.

All he needed to do was go to them, and they would relocate to a new home together and re-establish everything they had lost and more.

This is the Way.

Paz had received a tenuous signal from one of the Mid Rim planets, a signal closely known only in the Covert, uniquely belonging to them and understood by fellow Tribe members. It was a more ancient mode of disseminating a signal, a response to when Paz himself carefully issued out a call—all is clear; we can recoup.

The signal was weak and it came and went; Paz nearly dismissed it as a trap, but no one among the Remnant could have known of their Tribe’s mode of communication—unless the worst happened and they were compromised all over again.

That was Paz’s job—to determine the weight of such situations, and how pursuing them was worth the already limited resources he had left.

He had been hardwired from a young age not to doubt himself or quail at times when his judgment was needed the most. You are a Vizsla, you are a Vizsla—those voices wouldn’t go away. He was indeed a Vizsla, one of the bloodline sent to the Tribe and hidden away as a small child by the Armorer’s own clan. Paz made a clear pact to himself that he would be among the better Vizslas.

The Vizsla bloodline carried with it a plethora of curses as well as blessings. There had only been the bad Vizslas, and the worse Vizslas. If one heard of a good Vizsla centuries after the passing of Tarre Vizsla, that was because they had found themselves disavowed or forgotten in the thick of the Mandalorian Civil Wars. A better Vizsla was even rarer… and since Paz realized he was possibly the only Vizsla left, now was a great time as any to be and remain the better of his bloodline.

Three times Paz needed to switch ships to leave a cold trail faster, and to mislead anyone who’d attempted to follow him. He was painstakingly discreet, and his bulk and disposition presented him with measurable challenge. Sometimes he pretended that he was a simpleton and a mute, and communicated with broken Basic typed on a datapad to strangers who can sell him clues. He walked around like a cripple or a hunchback to further cement his pretense.

Anyone who’d undermined the hulking Mandalorian with attempts on his welfare for the beskar on his back would otherwise lose limb or life. On that note, Paz made sure as much as possible that he did not expose himself as Mandalorian. Din was still out there, supposedly the last among their people who walked the galaxy. He was always hunched and hooded when out in the open, a mountain bathed in quiet shadow.

Paz sacrificed much of his dignity to track the last of the scattered groups down. When this was over, he thought, he would need a long conversation with the Armorer for guidance, for help in restoring much of his self-respect. He would give all for the Creed, and if his own self-esteem was the price, so be it. But he should never throw it completely away.

You are a Vizsla, rang the incessant voices within him. You are a Vizsla.

Paz had stopped to camp in a more isolated section of the planet before resuming his search. Technically, he had found the signal’s source, which was a distance from where he’d decided to land, away from a densely populated space port and prying eyes. He was down to a single cloaking mechanism. If he were to squeeze it dry, he would do so wisely.

The hulk of a man was spent, exhausted, lonely… he endured it all. He wondered for a moment how Din could have handled his own circumstances, and empathy hit Paz like a slap. Din returned to Glavis without his foundling. Din had been banished as an apostate. The silver-clad Mandalorian left without protest, lost and alone in spirit. Paz fought a pang of guilt, but Din had broken the Creed, after all.

On the other hand, Paz had lost his claim over an ancestral weapon through ritual combat—the Darksaber, and it remained in Din’s possession. Bitterness, shame, self-pity, a speck of rage and silent weeping—and it was over. Paz moved on from that defeat, and he took his mind to more pressing matters.

That night on this Mid Rim planet, the Mandalorian lit a low, companionable fire. He warmed some canned rations and ate quietly, lifting his helmet as he shoved spoonfuls of shredded meat and sauce into his belly. He couldn’t even take the buy’ce off entirely. Much of him had turned into hyper-alertness and nerves.

He was at the outskirts of a thick forest, populated by various non-sentient wildlife and an endless canopy of trees. Paz leaned upon a trunk of an old tree and he tilted his visor up; the fog had veiled everything over and he lost sight of the treetops from where he sat.

His cloak doubled as a sleeping bag; Paz had stomped out the fire, and in full darkness save for the myriad of stars peeking through the fog, the large Mandalorian found himself drifting to half-sleep. His breathing slowed down, his heart beat at a comfortable pace… for a precious instant, he was relaxed.

However, just as he had finally closed his eyes—he soon opened them with a start as his world was rocked by a huge explosion west of his position.

Pulling himself together, fueled by muscle memory and survival instincts, Paz had readied his blaster canon, primed it as he lay low, studying the air and the chaos which loomed closer and closer. He was sure now that while it was an ambush attack, it was not towards him.

Paz could hardly believe his eyes.

He saw three more explosions hit the same area; flocks of slumbering wild birds took flight and soon the forest was filled with the panicked screeching of fauna. The commotion was enough to give Paz the confidence to stand to his full height and behold the sight before him.

The earth rumbled from shockwaves and the sky rippled with angry flames licking upwards; it seemed to Paz that the dark clouds overhead had also been set ablaze.

The resulting fire from four detonations was huge, without a doubt. Paz was nowhere too close to the flames and yet he felt the heat seep through his thick layers. He trembled and bit back a moment’s profound agony; he recalled Nevarro, and he recalled the many years before that, where fires had become a catalyst to suffering.

Paz had spotted a mansion there, oddly so, earlier that day. He had thought it abandoned, but one couldn’t be too sure. With his rangefinder, he scanned what he could of the vicinity from afar. There were no signs of life, it seemed. The mansion was weathered and on the verge of collapsing. Something had tugged at Paz like a finger brushing over his shoulder; Paz mentally swatted it away like an insect and he never felt that sensation again for the rest of the day.

…except, now that Paz was staring, dumbfounded, at what he knew was the mansion ceasing to exist under the weight of an inferno—was that he had felt it again. It was that light touch over his shoulder, trailing almost desperately up and down his back.

Paz thought he could be losing his mind, if he had not already lost it long ago. There was urgency to that strange sensation—as if it were tugging at him like a call for help.

The hulking Mandalorian hesitated. He swung at the balls of his heels like a child uncertain of where to go and what to do. He observed the flames and then the sensation had struck at him again—Paz held his ground. Whatever it was on that mansion up the hill was not his fight.

It was not his business. He had his own, and he must remain faithful to that mission.

Settling a conversation with himself, Paz shook his head and was about to turn around and leave this disaster behind…

But the sensation was now practically pulling at him, and something like an image of small hands tugging at his entire being flashed at the back of his mind: a blink of an eye and nothing more.

Paz consequently found himself clambering to the top of the hill in bounding strides.

The mansion was no longer there, and on its stead were tendrils of flames like fingers clawing furiously at the sky. The black smoke trailed at him and he began to cough; he sealed his helmet and turned on his oxygen reserves.

He didn’t know why—what had gotten over him? THIS WAS NOT HIS MISSION, and yet he dove headfirst into the flames, letting the image of a child’s small hands pull him to where he thought he was being led to…

What he didn’t expect at all was to be fired upon by a hail of blaster bolts just as he had entered the threshold of the blaze.

It was no use, certainly, to detect heat signatures of culprits anywhere in the midst of a hellish place. He managed to resort to enhance the feedback of his HUD to detect the smallest movements other than the spiraling flames and debris threatening to fall all around him.

For the nth time that night, Paz wondered why the hell he brought himself upon this fray—

Soon, he realized that he had already been surrounded.

He had learned to estimate numbers in his Fighting Corps training, and a sweeping glance informed him that he was being targeted at and encircled by thirty armed men at least. He didn’t know of what species, but most could indeed be human.

Paz felt his heart clench. If he needed to get out of this scrape alive, he’d need to slaughter them all, even the humans. It hadn’t posed much concern before, as Imperial Stormtroopers were human and Paz had remorselessly gunned down multitudes in the past… but after a period of dormancy, this act felt as murderous as it was an act of self-defense.

That would partly be a lie.

Paz hadn’t clarified the nature of the presence and skillset of practically a private army set to attack him, but he instantly knew that he would outrun and outgun them should it come to that. They were no match for him.

Another volley of bolts pelted his beskar; the pressure threw Paz back and away from the flames, and out into the open. He grunted in irritation, yet gathered enough self-mastery to keep himself from priming his canon in clear view of unknown and unexpected enemies. Paz had relied on the element of surprise before, and he was hoping he could do so again.

Out of nowhere echoed a booming and demanding shout: “WHO SENT YOU?!”

In the wide glade surrounding the mansion burning down to nothing, Paz was quickly encroached by a small army of thugs. They didn’t bother to conceal their numbers as they all poured out of hiding, all of their blaster pistols aimed at him. A few carried rifles.

Paz thought twice about indulging them with a reply. He remained a silent statue, but his whole body was conceivably taut.

“I SAID—WHO SENT YOU?! You’re an expensive hire, and that family’s owed our boss a fortune and could no longer afford the likes of you—MANDALORIAN.”

This ticked Paz off in the best way possible. Now that they knew what he was—they all simply needed to disappear.

He seemed to have been caught in a crossfire between two warring families. Underworld business? Intense political rivalry to the point of wiping out entire families? Something twisted within Paz. He remembered that House Vizsla in its vicious past were no different…

The goons’ faces were masked, and this somehow made it easier for Paz. These masks distorted any semblance of humanity in their features. He remained quiet, unmoved, stoic. Another step, and he would wipe them all out, and whoever sent these thugs would only find out that their men had been decimated by ghosts. Paz knew how to bury his tracks.

The hulking Mandalorian was about to reach behind him and untether his blaster canon from its jetpack clip when the situation turned on him in an instant.

The head goon—or whoever he was, as he was the one who spoke on everyone’s behalf—had produced before him the slack form of a small, dazed, and quivering child.

“I know where you reach, Mandalorian,” hissed the masked thug above the roar of flames and crumbling walls. “Set that weapon of yours upon us, one false move… and this kid gets it, hear?”

The man had flung the child to the ground, and before Paz could even register what happened—the goon had issued upon the helpless small boy a swift and powerful kick. A thin, pained cry filled the air.

The brushing touches over his shoulder turned into frantic grappling.

Osik! Paz thought… and he knew that he had snapped as his vision turned into sharp and vivid greys. Everything happened so quickly, so fluidly, like a wave had shot out of nowhere to smother everything in its wake.

In a matter of seconds, he had come upon the crumpled form of the boy protectively. He hoisted the little boy over his shoulder in a thoughtful position where the child would not be hurt by the canon’s recoil… and before the next heartbeat, he’d unslung his weapon and it spat out a volley of bolts in the rhythm of drumbeats, and not a bolt was wasted as each found its mark on every single one of these thirty thugs.

An unquestionably intense couple of minutes broke as the two sides exchanged firepower, and with Paz, it could have well been one-sided. The hulking Mandalorian hunched his body forward, like a shell coiling around its softer innards—and the child was that softness; blaster bolts ricocheted off Paz’s armor, leaving the little one cocooned and secure. Two brief minutes, and it was over. The blue-clad warrior held his breath, then panted in relief. He stopped firing seconds after he realized that shots no longer fell upon him.

Paz let his blaster canon cool and the adrenaline rush subside. He blinked at the destruction he had caused. He was stricken by his own brutality, and realized how easy it had become to provoke him when the life of a child was at stake.

He wasn’t even sure how he did it. He usually needed both hands to steady the blaster canon, but this time, he managed to do it single-handedly as his other hand was preoccupied in keeping the boy safely cradled close to his body. The child squirmed a little. His chin felt like a welcome albeit justifiably frightened weight over his pauldron.

“Hold on, little one, hold on,” were Paz’s next words, whispered gently as he braced himself to fly out of the scene via jetpack. He had done so in time, for whereupon he stood not a minute ago, the mansion had toppled over completely in massive clouds of black smoke and fine dust. The fires had done their job. The mansion—and surely, the boy’s family—was no more. He could try to confirm it soon after his own derailed mission…

The boy kept eerily quiet, but Paz saw that the child was very lucid and had witnessed everything he had done to rescue him.

“It’s all right…” Paz attempted to soothe the little one. To his rewarding surprise, the boy only held on to him tighter, and obstinately clung to him until daybreak.

Paz had only heard the child sob once before the little one had fallen asleep in his arms.

It was only then did it dawn on Paz that the only place the child would feel safe from now on—and would be fundamental to the recovery of his body, mind, and soul—was in his embrace.

Paz knew he was in trouble, but more so, he felt many times blessed.

This child was his foundling… as this child had already chosen him from the very beginning.

By the time he had returned to the Armorer with the last group of the Covert and his foundling in tow, Paz felt all the nightmares of his tribulations melt away. ***

The Kom’rk starfighter which Axe had been piloting alone was still traveling through hyperspace when Ragnar woke up to a strangely precise pressure digging at his chest.

The boy sat up, realizing that he had slept on his stomach again. He sighed in annoyance. This sleeping position had always been one his body would subconsciously turn to when he felt greatly threatened, mistrustful, and needed a huge deal of comforting. He commonly adopted it in his early childhood, which he suspected had begun when his parents warned him of trust and danger.

Ragnar groaned through his vocoder. To think that sleeping without taking his helmet off would bother him more, but after two years of only slipping out of the buy’ce to bathe and when he was ill as he was ushered into brief care by medical droids, he had faithfully sealed his face in. That had transformed into his comfort zone. On the other hand, the cause of the digging sensation was relatively newer.

The youth reached under his flight suit and drew out a mythosaur pendant strung on a fine leather cord.

He stared at it for long moments as the shiny beskar kry’bes stared back at him with its hollow eyes.

“Dad,” Ragnar whispered, unbidden.

The necklace was Paz Vizsla’s, presented to him when he had completed his apprenticeship under the Armorer’s older brother. Her brother did not follow in the footsteps of a goran as she had done. Rather, he had been one of the Tribe’s great providers during the days when they still basked under the sun, never in hiding. He took in the responsibility of being Paz’s mentor just as Axe did for Ragnar.

Paz’s stories of his own apprenticeship, Ragnar noted, weren’t relayed in much detail. His father did tell a few, but in an unexpectedly impersonal way, as if Paz were seeing things through the eyes of a bystander rather than his own. Ragnar was still new to the ways of Mandalorians then, and all he did was listen and be quiet; he drank information in huge gulps and didn’t offer any queries or opinions unless he was offered the opportunity. The boy then wondered what kind of relationship his father may have had with his own mentor. Sometimes, he would detect warmth in the large Mandalorian’s robust baritone. More often, however, was the neutrality in his voice.

Then, Ragnar accounted for the fact that the man who mentored Paz Vizsla had neither been his buir nor a family member. The relationship could have been, at least, very didactic rather than familial. It was more or less the same arrangement he had with Axe Woves—someone of no clan relation taking an orphaned foundling under their wing.

The boy set his mouth into a hard, stubborn line.

Only that he was not an orphan. Not yet—and he never plans to be one.

His father was still alive. He’s just… drifting far away, but not far enough where the living could no longer follow or the ones who had passed on could carry him off to their realm among the Oversoul.

Folding his still-growing hand over the pendant and letting it rest on his palm, Ragnar let the thoughts flow to him. He regulated his shaky breaths.

In his mind’s eye, he vividly recounted how six grown Mandalorians had to carry the unconscious form of his father on a makeshift stretcher into the med bay. There had been no supply of hover-gurneys at the time, along with the scarcity of medical supplies. There was upheaval and panic barely breaking through the surface; trained warriors could only master enough self-control.

Some had perished and a few survived. Paz was among those who had survived—but the hushed whispers he’d gleaned revealed that his father surely should have been among the fatalities. High-powered energy weapons had torn through his insides, which could have caused immediate organ failure. Blaster burns covered his body, and despite the cauterizing effects of energy weapons, there had been a great amount of blood loss.

The youngster had blocked all sound and emotion out. They wouldn’t let him see his father until he was somehow patched up. Ragnar bolted far and hid in one of the docked Mandalorian ships, and he sat there, verily shocked and unheedful of everything around him. They all had looked for him, and when they finally found him he had been fast asleep for hours.

Ragnar remembered how the Armorer came to him, soothed him with no trace of condescension or coddling, much to Ragnar’s gratitude. But the boy had become inconsolable for days. While he never threw a fit or bawled and made a fuss like how some children did, he had locked all the anguish within himself and refused to be touched or spoken to unless it was someone from his father’s close circle.

Ragnar didn’t expect Grogu to be that source of much-needed support, as well as the green child’s father, whose name Ragnar knew was Din Djarin.

The youngster was crouched among the company of storage crates and didn’t budge or react much. He sported an empty stare under the helmet as he knotted his fingers over and over. Grogu, dear Grogu, had tenderly placed a three-fingered hand over his.

Din had cautiously knelt before him and never forced him to respond in a manner most adults demanded of a child when addressed to.

“Grogu found your father first,” the silver-clad Mandalorian told him, ever so gently, in a voice Ragnar decided was nearly as cherished as Paz’s. “You know, Ragnar—Grogu… he has powers. He can heal.”

That was when Ragnar’s gaze had shot up; he was suddenly paying attention. Through his visor, he searched through Din’s own for any indication of further hope.

However, the only hope Din could offer had fallen a whole parsec short.

“Grogu did what he could. Your father is out of danger now, but…”

Ragnar found the impulse to speak, and it came out sharp. “But what?!”

He withdrew into himself again, disturbed by his own impudence.

Din had tried his best to explain. The medical term was comatose—being in a prolonged state of unconsciousness, a deep sleep with the uncertainty of whether the patient would wake or finally succumb.

He’ll wake, was all Ragnar could think of and it played like a mantra in his head and heart. He’ll wake. My father will wake up. You’ll see. You’ll all see.

Grogu and Din had patiently sat with him, and Ragnar wished for that moment to go on and on until he was irrevocably reassured that Paz would indeed wake up sooner than later.

“Take me with you,” was all Ragnar could mutter, much to Din’s surprise. The man hadn’t a clue of Ragnar’s keen perception, that the boy knew of the time Din had to go off-world with Grogu for important business. “Please.”

The child’s psyche was sundered in two: a part of him wished to stay with his slumbering father, and the other part of him was too exhausted from the cruel burdens of reality and wished to be far away, even for a little while.

“That’s not for me to decide,” Din had sincerely replied, palpable regret in his tone. That was indeed true, Ragnar discovered afterwards.

Din had made Grogu’s adoption official. The man was then duty-bound to take his son with him on apprenticeship training. Ragnar could still afford an ounce of genuine joy for Grogu, who only dealt him with kindness.

“You better make your dad proud,” Ragnar had told Grogu, bleeding himself dry of any goodwill left in him. Grogu’s huge-eyed stare of compassion and scrutiny held Ragnar fast, and the boy felt suddenly bare.

I will, came a will-o’-the-wisp voice straight into Ragnar’s mind. It was a very young voice, yet inexplicably ageless and timeless.

That encounter had left a mark on Ragnar over the much longer days he went through the motions. All foundlings who had sworn the Creed were to re-take the oath in the Living Waters as it was a far more sacred spring in all the galaxy, at least in Mandalorian culture. Ultimately, Ragnar had disassociated through the lighting of the Great Forge, through the celebrations that came after, all through the night that followed and then the morning after.

“Young Ragnar, you may now see your father,” was the Armorer’s unceremonious summons of him after the first meal.

The matriarch had tipped her visored head to Ragnar in an expression of concern. Somehow she knew that Ragnar was not eating as well as he should; the boy’s appetite had all but disappeared. Ragnar knew that the Armorer had been diligently overseeing Paz’s initial treatment, and she’d now found more courage in herself to let Ragnar witness in person all the whispers the child had been enduring over the plight of his father.

Ragnar responded with an imperceptible nod and followed her.

The trek to the station which became a more permanent medical facility was an arduous one. Perhaps that was why Ragnar just wanted to go away for a while and leave his dearest father in the hands of capable physicians. He didn’t want to see a man he had deemed so powerful, so strong, so sure in himself and filled with conviction and zest towards the Way become akin to a cold lamp where the light had been put out—a dim little star where there was once a blazing sun.

But Ragnar decided that this was a test. He would take this all in. He would know what to do after, if he knew that this would be too much for him…

The Armorer had halted before a great metal door.

The boy realized that the light cruiser crash had not destroyed everything in its vicinity; there were chambers that were meticulously made to withstand the very heat of a Mandalorian Forge, which rose to temperatures higher than the hottest, unlivable planets. This was one such chamber, retrofitted by the Remnant and seized back by Mandalorian engineers.

Ragnar swallowed the lump in his throat as the Armorer punched in a code. The doors presently swished open.

His HUD registered darkness at first, and then adjusted to the ambient lighting within.

He felt frozen to the spot but the Armorer had anticipated this. She lent him strength with a gentle nudge over the small of his back.

The boy felt like a wraith, floating into the heart of the chamber with limbs and steps that weren’t his. He felt disembodied… he was disassociating again, letting the world happen to him, rather than him facing the world.

He stopped at the foot of a three large bacta tanks, huge transparisteel pillars towering over the boy and the matriarch.

Ragnar stiffened; his heart began to hurt so much and yet he held his ground. He clenched his fists as he beheld Paz Vizsla, suspended upright within the vat of bacta liquid with a tubes and circuits circling around the form of a once mighty warrior.

His father’s face was still respectfully concealed by a special helmet which aided his breathing and cycled sustenance periodically into his system.

Ragnar had seen his father stripped of his armor only a handful of times, simply in his under suit when he would make time to tuck Ragnar to bed.

Who would tuck him to bed now?

Ragnar felt fury swell towards himself when he remembered the day he told Paz that he was too old to be tucked in. That was soon after he swore the Creed. Oh, such was the arrogance a child possessed from undergoing an important rite of passage which ushered them to adulthood.

Without both armor and under suit, covered simply in compression shorts and dark compression bandages over his burned and damaged skin, Paz looked so different, so small, so achingly vulnerable.

This was the sight Ragnar had refused to acknowledge. He stood there, paying little attention to the other two patients who occupied the tanks which flanked his father’s on either side. They were parents of foundlings as well… how were those kids faring in relation to his own void of pain? Will those Mandalorians in their own recuperative slumber wake up, be well, and join their families again?

Borne out of duty, the first words which Ragnar inquired of the Armorer were, “Where is my father’s armor?”

The Armorer laid her gaze upon him awhile before leading him to the back of Paz’s tank, where a cleverly camouflaged storage closet had been installed vertically, made for the patients’ personal belongings while undergoing treatment.

The closet hissed open, and inside, much to Ragnar’s cascading thankfulness, was Paz’s full set of armor fastidiously arranged. The boy would like to think that it had been readied to be worn immediately upon his father’s waking. A small smile crept over Ragnar’s lips. His father would do that, all right. He would loudly demand for his armor as soon as he opened his eyes.

“Everything’s in order, ad’ika,” the Armorer said with moving, uncharacteristic gentleness. After a pause, she continued, “I would have to leave you now as I have duties to attend to. You may stay for as long as you like. Should you need the assistance of a baar’ur, do so with the comms attached to this storage closet. They should come to you immediately.”

Ragnar nodded weakly to the Armorer. “Th-thank you.”

The child spent the next few hours curled at the foot of his father’s tank, his back towards the transparisteel. He couldn’t bear another second seeing Paz so helpless like that, but he wanted to be close to him… perhaps, he could lend him strength with his presence alone, even when the man wasn’t conscious to see it.

He sobbed for most of his stay, a haunted weeping of a small boy suddenly wrenched from a true hearth and home. It sent Ragnar to impassioned self-abhorrence when he did know that there would be slim chances of Paz emerging out of a major battle unscathed. For the few years under this noble Mandalorian’s care, he knew his father to be wholly selfless to the point of martyrdom. Ragnar didn’t exactly expect it to happen earlier on, when he himself still needed a father to thrive in his own journey of becoming a full-fledged warrior.

The days that came after were harrowing, to say the least. Ragnar drifted in and out of alertness and awareness as a council consisting of Lady Kryze, the Armorer, and a handful of leaders from either side decided upon the fate of the child.

Ragnar didn’t pay much attention, anyway. He was the subject of hot debate. They kept saying, the last heir of Clan Vizsla, the one to lead House Vizsla one day, and all that babble.

Was he only significant due to the clan name he carried? These leaders didn’t show much interest over the fate of the other children whose parents were in the bacta tank, too.

The meeting over his future surprisingly lasted for more than an afternoon. It would take multiple sessions before arrangements could be finalized.

During those interludes, Ragnar was allowed to leave the council room. A child his age was restless and needed to burn some energy so they can settle properly again when it was required.

Ragnar explored the halls which were slowly being repaired from extensive damage caused by the light cruiser crash. The boy had learned of Commander Axe Woves and the man’s derring-do. He faintly recalled Axe standing next to him as he led the cry: “FOR MANDALORE!” and the Great Forge was alive with the wild cheers of their people. Ragnar had felt nothing, then. He had numbed himself, shut himself in. He was only there because the Armorer said he should.

The boy kept to his explorations. There would be sentries here and there, and they would nod to him, and he would nod back. Ragnar made another turn to a station definitely more damaged than the rest, but before he could take a step further—

His boot had hit something, and it reacted with a metallic clanking which drifted a bit across the hall before sliding to a full stop.

A rush of the sensing suddenly latched itself onto Ragnar’s mind. The youngster felt a pull towards that object he had accidentally kicked some paces away.

The child searched for it in the half-darkness; he picked it up.

The object was surprisingly warm to the touch. Had someone else handled it before he did? Metal left alone for so long would keep cold. There seemed to be life beating within this… thing…

A hilt?

It was partly crushed, the top split apart like a steel flower in bloom.

Ragnar wrangled in his racing thoughts and pounding heart. He had seen this before, and he knew what it was.

It was what remained of the Darksaber.

“Ragnar, are you there?”

Ragnar was transported back to the present; his eyes flew open upon the sound of Axe’s voice buzzing through the comms of his sleeping quarters.

“Yeah, I’m here,” the boy responded immediately lest his teacher worry… again.

“Good, good,” came the man’s relieved remarks. “Proceed to the cockpit soon and buckle up. We’ll be hitting Nevarro’s atmosphere in T-minus fifteen.”

“Copy that, sir.”

There was prolonged static on the other end, as though Axe held the transmission button for longer, yearning to say something more. Ragnar waited; the static cut off. The youth had felt that Axe wished to impart more caring, concerned words towards his charge. The man had thought better of it.

Ragnar knew what it was: the hesitancy of someone who was a parental figure and yet could not fully be a parent. The boy had respected it, but now he felt bereft. This was Axe’s way of compromise. He was not the boy’s father, and he was in no way replacing Paz Vizsla.

How different things would have been if it were Paz himself who’d take Ragnar to apprenticeship missions?

Ragnar choked back a cry.

Vastly different. A million parsecs different.

Before tucking Paz’s mythosaur pendant back under his flight suit collar, Ragnar partly lifted his helmet to give it a tiny kiss. His frame trembled; his muscles throbbed and his head spun for a moment.

I love you, Dad, Ragnar whispered in his mind to a sleeping man in a bacta tank a world away. He can never say it many times enough.

The mythosaur pendant had been handed to him for safekeeping by the Armorer herself when Ragnar had turned fifteen, his current age. Axe Woves had already then been his mentor for half a year, and he was about to embark in more crucial stages of his apprenticeship. He wouldn’t be strung along for the ride not only to examine and observe. He would start to actively participate in all the dealings Axe would take him to—exercises of the mind and body, and the spirit, most of all.

Mandokar.

(Paz had reminded Ragnar time and again of how much mandokar he discerned in his son. The child had the resilience of beskar itself. Perhaps his father was right on target about that, Ragnar thought sadly, bitterly. He could have been orphaned twice. What average child could live through that sort of trauma? What was he, then? A damned orphan and a half? How long will this continue?)

Can’t Dad wake up? Please… can’t he wake up now?

The only great comfort he found as compensation during this dubious time was that he would be seeing Grogu again. Grogu and his father… Din Djarin himself had a streak which was very warm and welcoming to Ragnar, so much like Paz, and yet the two men were unique of each other.

Oftentimes Nevarro would be the final pit stop after every apprenticeship mission before heading back to Mandalore. Ragnar counted six missions so far, but this one had been the least eventful as much as Axe Woves knew.

As Ragnar fell upon the seat next to Axe and strapped himself in for the jump out of hyperspace, he deftly clutched the Darksaber cocooned within its hidden belt pouch and his heart hammered.

“T-minus two minutes until we hit atmosphere,” informed Axe. He had his helmet on and the visor slightly turned to the boy. “Ready to see our friends again, Ragnar?”

“Yeah,” replied the boy in his usual succinct manner.

Yes, Ragnar continued further in his mind. More than Axe will ever know.

When the boy felt Grogu’s mind reaching out to him through the Force, sort of like an astral handshake the children forged for themselves as soon as Grogu started teaching him about what he knew of the sensing, Ragnar smiled.

It was the widest smile he’d done in a very long time.

*****

Mando'a chapter glossary:

*osik - an impolite Mandalorian word; expletive *buy’ce - helmet *kry’bes - the Mythosaur skull *goran - blacksmith *buir - father, mother, parent *ad’ika - “little one,” a term of endearment for a child age 3-13 years *baar’ur - medic *mandokar - the ‘right stuff,’ the epitome of Mando virtue: a blend of aggression, tenacity, loyalty and a lust for life

(for more extra author's notes on this chapter, please read on AO3 ^_^)

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