#he has not been reforged he is carrying his guilt with him | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

brokenbeskar · 4 years ago

Text

Repairs

Chapter Five of Memories Reforged (Din Djarin x F!Reader)

Word Count: 11.7k

Summary: You and the Mandalorian make an emergency landing on Utrost and need to find a way to pay for repairs

A/N: This one ended up a bit longer than I had originally intended, but I had a ton of fun writing it! Hopefully you all enjoy! <3

You and the Mandalorian hadn’t spoken another word to each other while in the confines of space. You’ve simmered down quite a bit since the other day. You’re still mad--of course you are! you had every reason to be. Only instead of a burning rage, it's subsided into a simple distaste for the man you have to share the confines of this ship with. You get the feeling he probably feels the same way.

The two of you weren’t avoiding each other by any means, neither of you were that petty, but the both of you definitely made a point not to linger around the other for too long. If he was in the cockpit, you would spend your time in the hull, and vice versa. You were purely co-existing with each other, silently passing by each other without a word. There was no direct malice by it, but there wasn’t any friendliness either. You were simply co-workers. Co-workers who didn’t like each other, but needed one another to get the job done.

You’ll admit, you’re a little embarrassed by how you acted the other day. Not that it was unjustified-- oh no, without a doubt, it was definitely justified.

Even still, you usually have a pretty good handle on your emotions. To completely blow up on him like that wasn’t something you would have expected from yourself. It's not what you're used to.

None of this was what you were used to, if you’re being honest.

Working a job with someone else--someone other than your husband. It feels strange. Everything has felt strange since he died. Nothing feels quite right anymore, and the shit show that took place on Coruscant? Just feels like another log thrown into the burning pile of things that have gone wrong for you.

You miss him.

Everyday you do, but especially when things go wrong--when things get hard. Especially now that you're stuck in the confines of this ship while you limp your way to Utrost. There's nothing to do other than wait.

You have the kid to keep you busy sometimes, but when he’s sleeping, or spending time with his metal clad guardian, you’re left with nothing but your wandering mind. Left with nothing to do but think of him. Letting your thoughts transport you to a simpler and happier time. When nothing else in the galaxy mattered so long as you had each other.

You fully immerse yourself in reliving the little things. The sound of his voice--both how it sounded running through the filter of his helmet, but how smooth and utterly rich it sounded without it. The way he sounded calling out for you, adoration lining every inch of his voice, like he was falling in love with your name for the first time everytime he said it. The way it would sound when he would first wake up, gravelly and warm. The way he would let out a soft hum as he pulled you tight against him--the warmth of his strong arms wrapping around you.

Maker, what you would give to be in his arms again. To be comfortably wrapped up in his embrace after all of this...he would make it feel like nothing bad had ever happened to begin with. What you would give to have him comfort you, tell you everything was going to work out, and tell you everything would be okay, just like he used to.

***

You’re still shaking as you run a sterilizing agent over his wounds. Your heart is still beating just as fast as it was, despite you being back in the safe confines of your ship. He’s watching over you silently as you slowly and tenderly clean the blood, dirt, and grime from his damaged skin. He winces slightly when you apply pressure, and you immediately halt your actions and shoot him a worried look, your heart pounding against your chest. The last thing you want to do is hurt him. You’ve done enough of that today…

“It’s okay,” He reassures you, bringing his free hand up to lightly cup your cheek, gently running his thumb along the high of your cheekbone, “I’m okay.” He offers you a warm smile, but it just makes your gut wrench.

“No thanks to me…,” You murmur, dropping your gaze back down to his injury, as you resume your work.

“You’re not the one who came at me with a vibroblade.” He lets out a chuckle, “Not that I would be opposed if you did, could be sexy.” He shrugs lightly. More jokes. It’s always jokes with him, but you don’t find it funny. No, this was serious to you.

When you don’t give any sort of response in return like usual, he knows something's off. Of course he had noticed you were shaken up, but he wrongly assumed it was lingering adrenaline from the incident. He reaches out and lightly catches the wrist of your working hand, halting you from continuing to work on his wounds.

“What’s wrong, Sen’ika?” He gives your wrist a gentle squeeze.

You tighten your grip on the sanitizing wipe in your hand, “This isn’t the time for jokes.” You spit out seriously, “You’re injured. You’re lucky it wasn’t worse!” You can’t even look at his face, you just glance over all his injuries. With each one you see, guilt pools in your chest, the sharp pain of it weighing heavy as you breathe. “This is my fault...you got hurt because of me…” You trail off as you bring your free hand up to lightly trail your fingers over the skin next to the sizable gash across his upper arm.

“Yeah, I got hurt, but it's not that bad...and it’s definitely not your fault, sweetheart.” He tugs at your wrist, bringing up to his face so he can trail tiny kisses along the side of it.

“But it is!” You yank your wrist back from his gentle grasp, “I messed up! I made a mistake! You had to come and save me, because I fucked it all up! Again! And this time--this time you got hurt! Maybe---maybe I’m just not cut out for this…” You trail off at the end defeatedly.

“Ner laar sennar…,” He breathes out sweetly as he reaches out for you, placing his hands firmly on the sides of your shoulders, “We all make mistakes. I knew the risk I was taking when I rushed in like that. You’re too hard on yourself. You’ve only just started this job a few months ago, and yet you’re already better than most in the guild. You’re a very impressive and capable bounty hunter.” He rubs his thumb on your shoulder softly while he speaks, and it immediately puts you at ease. He had a point, he only taught you to fire a blaster and wield a vibroblade not even a year ago. Skills you never would have even imagined yourself capable of doing before you met him.

“...Thanks,” You finally look back up to him and give him a weak smile after a beat of silence, “A Mandalorian taught me.”

“That’s my girl!” He beams at you brightly, then suddenly he's hauling you up from the ground where you're kneeling, and pulling you down against him from where he’s sitting in the pilot’s seat. The positioning is awkward and uncomfortable, so you shuffle your knees up onto the seat and around his hips the best you can. He loosens his grip on you only enough so you can wiggle into a more comfortable position in his grasp, wrapping your arms around him, before he's squeezing you again.

You let out a contentful sigh as you nuzzle into the side of his neck, his hand coming up to tangle in your hair while his other slowly runs along your back. He presses a kiss to your temple.

“Bounty hunting is not an easy or glamorous job. Sometimes things go wrong, sometimes mistakes happen, and sometimes we get hurt. It’s part of it.” He buries his face into your hair, and takes a deep breath before planting another kiss to your temple, “But there’s always going to be another job, another bounty, and our wounds will heal with time. All we can do is move forward and press on...but, mesh’la?” The hand he’s been gentling running down your back back stills for a moment, pressing flat against the middle of it, “As long as you’re here, by my side, in my arms…,” He gives you a firm squeeze, “ just know that it’s all going to be okay.”

And he was right. You know the risk that comes with the job. You still feel bad about what happened, but he was okay. You were okay. All you can do is move forward and press on. And with the way he was holding you against him so tight, his face pressed into your hair, yours in the side of his neck, the way his heart beat felt against your own, you had no doubt in your mind that everything was going to be just fine.

***

But instead you were alone. Sitting on the cold ground in the hull of a ship that wasn’t yours. The metal beneath you, a glaring reminder of the harsh reality you were living in instead of the fantasy you could lose yourself in forever. You hold your helmet--his helmet--tight to your chest, and you curl around it, wishing it could bring even a fraction of the same comfort that he always gave you.

You miss him.

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

Landing on Utrost couldn’t have come any quicker. The second you felt the ship make its clumsy landing in it’s assigned hangar, you practically jumped to your feet, rushing to find your go-bag. The thought of finally being off this ship--finally getting some fresh air--and maker, some real food. Ration packs were fine most of the time, but after only being able to eat them for weeks? You’re ready for something else.

You hear the Mandalorian descend the ladder as you click your helmet on and hit a button on the hull wall to lower the ramp. You look over in his direction, and see he has the baby tucked away in a bag on the side of his hip. You can’t help but smile to yourself with the way The child’s big eyes barely peek over the top and his big green ears stick out the sides. You almost want to ask if you can take him with you, treat him to some local street food you’re positive he would love. But with the way things have been between you and the powerful man carrying him, you don’t bother.

When the ramp finally lowers, you immediately make your stride down, trying to contain your excitement of finally being off the ship. When your feet hit the solid ground of the hangar beneath you, you can’t help but raise your arms above you and let out a much needed stretch. You already feel lightyears better than you did before, and you haven’t even stepped into the sun yet.

The hangar bay you got assigned to was way bigger than it needed to be considering your ship's size. It could have easily fit three more of them and still have some room to easily move about the round space. It was half enclosed, a large rounded metal covering half of the hanger and engulfing it in shade, the other half open to allow for landing. There were parts scattered about in what you assume to be an unorganized fashion. Platform lifts and transport carts are abandoned throughout the area. It looked like this place hadn’t been used in ages.

You barely notice when an exhausted looking mechanic slowly makes his way across the hangar as the Mandalorian descends the ramp behind you. He’s punching something into the holopad in his arm as he strolls over, his goggles pushed up onto his head, pulling his hair up into a wiry mess behind them. He feels so out of place. With a bay this size you would be expecting more mechanics, droids, anything. Instead it’s just one. Dragging his feet as he makes his way over to you. It’s only when he gets closer you realize how young he looks.

He looks up from his holopad with a heavy sigh when he sees the state of the ship. You turn to take a look yourself and---stars, that’s bad. This is the first time you’ve been able to actually see the damage. Large scorch marks plastered heavily across the entire length of it, along with huge tears in the metal. It was a disaster.

“Looks like you two got yourselves in quite the mess.” He drawls out as he steps closer to further inspect the ship. “Whatever you hit, it did some pretty serious damage. Surprised you made it here in one piece.” He continues absently as he punches some notes into his holopad.

“How soon can you have it repaired by?” The Mandalorian next to you questions, and the mechanic scoffs in response.

“If my droids were still up and running? I could have had her ready for you by tomorrow night. But since it's just me now, It’ll take me a few days.”

“How long is a few days?” The mechanic turns to stare him down, glaring into his visor. “A few days. And it will be a few days more if you decide to be a pain in the ass.” He quickly turns back to continue assessing the damage. You notice something, just barely--out of the corner of your eye, you have to turn slightly to get a better look, but you notice the Mandalorian’s fists tighten at his sides. His shoulders may even tense slightly, but you aren’t sure. It might just be your mind playing tricks on you.

Up until this point you truly thought he was unbothered by this whole thing. Like his ship getting damaged and the bounty getting away was no big deal, just another day. He’s always so stoic, so composed--like all of the time. And he almost never talks, so it’s not like he could give it away verbally. It’s only now you’re realizing, from just the slightest flex of his fists, that the illusion of his helmet--having never seen his face--almost had you believe he was completely imperturbable. Like...you knew he was irritated the day you left Coruscant, but on the days that followed it never actually occurred to you that he might be just as angry and pissed off as you were about the whole thing.

He was.

He was just much better at hiding it than you were.

“Alright. Looks like repairs are gonna cost ya forty thousand.” He doesn’t even flinch when he tells you the amount, like it's no big deal, tapping loudly once on the holopad to finalize the estimate.

You choke.

The Mandalorian whips around so fast you’re worried he’s going to give the baby whiplash.

“Forty thousand?!” You shout it louder than you mean to. You’re just in utter disbelief at the amount. He must have made a mistake--there's no way. That was way too much. That can’t be right at all.

“That's what I said.” The mechanic taps the side of his holopad impatiently.

“Repairs are cheaper on Coruscant.” The Mandalorian snaps out.

“Then feel free to fly back to Coruscant.”

“But I don’t understand, what exactly is costing that much?” You question anxiously. You clearly needed these repairs if you were to ever end up off this planet and back on the hunt, but where in the galaxy were you supposed to find that many credits?

“Lets see…” he starts scrolling through his holopad, listing off the repairs he’s taken note of for your estimate, “You’ve got a fuel leak, hyperdrive’s got some serious damage, gonna have to be replaced all together, right thruster damage, I assume your not running any higher than 40% efficiency, Got some busted power lines, and you’re gonna need a ton of rewiring, not to mention your reflector shields are damaged. Then we’ve got all the body damage to worry about.” He shakes his head to himself, “S’gonna be a lot of work and like I said, someone went and damaged all my droids so it’s just me now. Damn thugs…” He murmurs the last bit to himself quietly, but it piques your interest.

“Thugs?” He just looks at you with pure hesitation in his eyes, like he so desperately wants to tell you everything but there's something holding him back.

“Forty thousand for the repairs. Pay up or find someone else to repair your ship.” He repeats shortly. He goes to turn away, tucking his holopad into a holder on his side.

“These thugs the reason your prices are so high?”

He scoffs, “You really think I would be chasing away what little business I get with prices this high by choice?” He shakes his head with a sigh, “A group of spice runners moved in a couple months ago, been terrorizing the whole town since they got here. At first they were just using it as a way to transfer product, but then they got violent. They run the whole town now. You pay their prices, and do as they say, or you end up dead.”

You settle back on your heels. Straighten out your shoulders and stand tall, resting your hands on your belt and tilt your helmet in his direction, a clever, perfect little plan forming in your brain.

“How much would repairs be if--let's say...those spice runners weren’t a problem anymore?” You shrug your shoulders nonchalantly and you notice the Mandalorian turn his helmet in your direction. He clearly knows what you're getting at. At the same time the mechanic bursts into laughter, as if that's the funniest joke he's heard since the solstice.

“If you could find a way to take care of Rrollesh and his gang? On maker, I'll give you your repairs for free!” He laughs his whole way through it, clearly not taking your proposition seriously.

You on the other hand? Looks like you just landed yourself a job.

“Where can I find them?”

The mechanic’s laughter fades and he locks eyes with your visor in a questioning manner, only just now realizing you’re being serious. “I mean, you take a quick walk around town you’re sure to run into them at some point. They don’t like strangers. Most days they play sabacc at the cantina towards the end of town.”

“Of course they do.” You give the mechanic a firm grip on the shoulder, “You get started on those repairs, I’ll take care of the rest.” You give his shoulder a couple pats before turning towards the silent armored man next to you.

“I’m going to go check things out. You should take the kid to get some real food. He’s probably more sick of ration packs than I am.” You can’t help but let out a small sigh at the realization that getting yourself some good food might have to wait. Just your luck.

“Going alone?”

“I think I can handle it. Besides, I’m the one who took the job.” You shrug, already turning to make your leave.

“Let me know if you need backup”

“Sure thing tin can” you call back to him with a dismissive wave of your hand as you continue your way out of the hangar.

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

Every step to the cantina was torture. By the time you finally got there and settled into a booth you almost completely forgot why you were there. All you could think about was food.

Street vendors were tempting you at every corner, their sizzling goods reminding you exactly what you were missing.

Every wiff you would catch through your helmet made your headspin. Sweet freshly baked pastries, smoky grilled meats, not to mention all kinds of exotic fruits--half of which you’ve never seen before, but looked delicious all the same. It all just made your stomach cry out and your need for real--fresh--delicious food only grow exponentially with every step.

You settle further into your seat, propping a knee up on the edge of the table. Tapping a finger a couple of times on the top of it where your hand rests. You let out a light huff of air. Hopefully the kid was having a good time right now. You can imagine his little cheeks stuffed to the brim with whatever his metal clad guardian would give him. The way his little hands would probably be already reaching for more before he even finished chewing, that greedy little bug.

You’re beyond lost in your thoughts you don’t even notice the sudden shadow looming over you. It’s not until the violent BANG of a vibroblade being stabbed threateningly into the top of your table catches your attention and you realize you’re being crowded around. You look at the blade blankly, and slowly follow it up the strong arm of the stranger holding it.

You lock your visor to the face of one very sizable Trandoshan. A large and gnarly looking scar splitting across his entire sandy scaled face, clouding one of his eyes in its path.

“Mandalorian…” He hisses out, deep and guttural, as a sly smirk breaks out revealing large sharp teeth, “What brings you to my bar?”

You lean back in the booth, this must be that Rrollesh the mechanic was talking about. And if he wasn't, well you get the feeling he could definitely take you to him. You look slightly to your left, to take note of the various others crowding around you. Five of them, all boxing you into your booth, leaving you no escape. It's an interesting mix of smugglers to say the least. None look nearly as impressive as the clear leader in front of you, but you don’t doubt they would put up a good fight.

The scarred Trandoshan pulls his blade out from the table, pulling your attention back to him.

“I like your armor...Beskar goes for a lot these days.” He growls out lowly, pointing his blade in your direction.

“Always does.” You reply coolly, “Mandalorian steel is one of the most durable materials, and very rare. Nearly impossible to get your hands on.”

“Then you know why I want yours.” He inches his blade towards one of your pauldrons, close enough so he can press the tip of it against your metal, and it takes every fiber of your very being not to rip his damn arm off right then and there. His smirk grows wider and there's a dark chuckling from his goons next to you, that you choose to ignore. Keeping your visor locked to his eyes, trying to keep your relaxed composure, despite the obvious tension that's building.

“Mine’s in bad shape.” You shrug finally after a moment of silence, “But if you’re interested in Beskar I have a proposition that might interest you.”

“Do you seem like you’re in a position to be making deals right now?”

“You seem like a smart guy,” you lie, “And I happen to know someone with a full set of Beskar probably worth twice what mine is.” The offer comes out of your mouth before you even realize what you're doing, but you're hoping he takes the bait.

The Trandoshan hums dark and grovely in his throat before silently taking a seat in the booth opposite to you. “Keep going” He encourages. Bingo.

“I’m here on a job, I’m hunting a Mandalorian. He escaped from me on Coruscant, but had to make an emergency landing here after the damage I did to his ship. He’s dangerous. Heavily armed, and in a full suit of freshly forged Beskar. One of the most skilled fighters I’ve ever gone against.” You move to rest your arms on the back of the booth, trying your best to seem as relaxed as possible while you lie straight out of your ass. You’re not even sure what you’re doing yet, just kind of making shit up as you go.

“What exactly are you asking of me?” He leans forward in his seat squinting at you, still holding his blade.

“If you and your men help me catch my quarry, you can take his armor.”

“I thought beskar belonged to the Mandalorians? Wouldn’t that be going against your own kind?”

You shake your head dismissively, “I’m not a Mandalorian. I don’t care what happens to it so long as I get paid for my work.”

He gives you a disbelieving look with a tilt of his head.

“Stole it off a dead guy.” you say nonchalantly as you notion to your armor with both hands, without moving your arms from their place on the back of the booth.

He lets out a hearty laugh, “I like you” he says waving his blade back in your direction, “I’ll help you catch your Mandalorian.” he nods with a smile, “what's your plan?”

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

“Mandalorian, you there?”

“Need backup?” His voice crackles through the static of the comm

“Not exactly.”

“What does that mean?” He asks, suspicious of your ambiguous answer.

“I found Rrollesh. Well, he found me I guess, we struck a deal.”

“A deal?” “I told him if he helped me kill you he could have your armor” You confess bluntly.

There's a beat of silence, and you’re almost worried he’s going to hang up on you.

“You what?” He finally asks

“It’s not like it sounds.” You reassure him, but after you’re met with nothing but silence in return you continue, “We made a plan to ambush you tonight--”

“You’re not helping your case.” He cuts you off abruptly.

“Just listen! We made a plan to ambush you tonight, but what's going to happen instead is we’re going to ambush them. I’m going to turn against them and you’re going to help me take them out.” you sound more confident than you feel explaining your half-baked whim of a plan, but you’re hoping he’ll go along with it. Your only other real option if he decides not to go along with it is to show up guns blazing and hope for the best, which didn’t seem ideal.

“Don’t you think they’re planning the same thing?” He sounds dubious at best, but the fact he’s not outwardly declining gives you a spark of confidence.

“Oh, I know they are, the difference is they need me to help take you out. They probably plan to kill me after I help kill you. So if we beat them to it, we have nothing to worry about.” You shrug despite him not being able to see it.

“How many are there?”

“No clue. There were six at the cantina including Rrollesh himself, but he said he’s bringing more.”

“Where are you planning this ambush?”

“I told them I would lure you to the middle of town, they're going to hide and try to surround you once you get there. Box you in. The second they make the jump for you, that's when I’ll turn on them.”

“Should be easy enough.” His words are like honey in your ears, instant relief fills your entire body.

“My thoughts exactly. Start heading down in three hours, I’ll have to meet back up with Rrollesh and his men and I don’t want to be seen with you until then.” “Copy that.”

You’re about to turn off the comm and get ready to meet back with Rrollesh, but you hesitate. “Oh, before I forget!” You call out quickly before either of you can disconnect.

“What is it?”

“Try not to shoot me this time, tin can.” You joke, your smirk almost audible in your voice.

“Try to communicate with me before you jump out from some crates and then maybe we have a deal. No promises though.” You hear his commlink click off the line. You know he was joking back, but something about his wording makes you freeze up. You sit there, alone with the static of your open comm ringing in your ear with the sudden realization. You keep replaying what he just said over and over in your head…

“Try to communicate with me before you jump out from some crates and then maybe we have a deal.”

“Try to communicate with me…”

“Try to communicate…”

Somehow, it’s only now that it hits you. This whole time you were blaming everything about what happened on Coruscant on the Mandalorian. This whole time, everything went wrong because of the things he did. Because he was an idiot, because he didn’t know any better. He kept getting in your way because he just couldn’t help but be obnoxious.

But that wasn’t the case at all.

You kept getting in each other’s way because neither of you had bothered to communicate. You mistakenly assumed he was the one to speak to the jeweler because you never bothered to ask him. Your bounty escaped through the window because you didn’t tell him what was going on until she already started to escape. You got shot because you didn’t bother to tell him your plan to flank her, and just jumped out in front of his shot.

What happened on Coruscant was just as much your fault as it was his. And not because you weren’t good enough, or because he was stupid and didn’t know what he was doing, but because the two of you were bad at communicating with each other. You were too busy working against him instead of with him.

Maker, you were a fool.

All those insults you slung at him should have also been said to yourself. Now you’re really embarrassed. The realization of this should have come to you way sooner. Were you really so prideful you hadn’t noticed? So cocky in your own abilities, you were blind to your faults?

No, that's not it at all. In fact, you realize, it’s probably the exact opposite. You struggled immensely every step of the way on that job. You felt so inadequate, so mediocre, so second-rate. In the height of your self consciousness you lashed out at him. You were blinded not by your pride, but by your shame. Your fear that you weren’t good enough, and he would be able to see that, that anyone would be able to see that.

You feel incredibly guilty now. Down right bad. A sinking in the pit of your belly that almost makes you nauseous. You definitely owe him an apology. Whether or not he wants one, you owe it to him, even if only to clear your own conscience.

For now though, you’ve got a job to finish. And you’re going to make sure you do a damn good job finishing it.

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

“Ah! You made it!” Rrollesh calls out to you as you stroll out into the open area of the town where you agreed to meet, “I was starting to suspect you wouldn’t show.” His deep and guttural voice rumbles out in a dark tone as you approach him.

You glance around him. Only three others are standing about. You tilt your visor at the large scaled man in front of you questioningly, “These are the only men you brought with you? I might as well be taking the Mandalorian on myself.” You scoff

“Oh no, not at all. The others are already stationed and waiting. Don’t you worry.” The threatening tone of his reassurance, followed by the sickly, toothy smile he shoots you, definitely confirms the fact that he is planning on killing you. You pretend not to notice.

“Good. Since these are your fighters, and this is your town, where do you want me?” You hope by giving him the illusion of control he’s less likely to suspect anything coming from you.

Besides,

You know damn well no matter where he puts you, you’ll end up on top either way.

“You and Tarsi are going to hole up there and wait for my signal.” He points up to the roof of a building to your right, “I’ll take the other two towards the front so we can close him off.” He points behind you where he intends on hiding out with the other two smugglers.

You nod in confirmation, and go to make your way to your assigned spot, one of the smugglers trailing close behind you. This Tarsi, you assume, is...unimpressive--to say the least. He’s small, too eager as he jogs next to you to keep up with your pace, and seems far too excited about the prospect of taking down a mandalorian.

And he won’t stop talking to you.

You don’t even know about what, you tuned him out almost immediately after he opened his mouth for the first time. You just know he wouldn’t stop making noise. The whole way to your assigned spot, he was blabbing away. The whole time he set up his long range rifle, and adjusted his scope, he was. Still. Talking.

At one point you notice while you’re settled down and looking out waiting for a signal--or any sign of the Mandalorian, that he’s been continuously scooting himself closer to you until there’s barely a gap between the two of you at all.

“I just really like that in a woman…,” Were the only words you suddenly catch from him, as you feel his hand on your thigh.

You shoot a threatening stare right into his eyes through your visor, which were already locked onto you. Only, he doesn’t get the hint.

“I’m sure you’re just as beautiful under all that armor as you are with it on…” He continues, and his thumb gently runs a small circle on your thigh where his hand rests.

How long exactly had he been hitting on you before you noticed? And how did he take your complete utter silence as interest?

“It’s okay, you don’t have to say anything, I’ll take good care of you.” The way his voice drops into a sultry tone, and he starts to slide his hand up higher on your thigh, it's too much. You immediately grab his wrist and forcefully rip it from your leg, nearly crushing it in your grip as you continue to stare daggers at him.

He winces at the force of it, but somehow, someway, he still doesn’t understand, “You like things rough I see, no problem. I’ll do whatever you want once this is all over. Does the helmet stay on or is there a chance I get to see your beautiful eyes?”

You practically throw his wrist away from you. The audacity of him, to think you would actually be interested in sleeping with him. You can’t take it anymore, slowly you reach your hands out and gingerly place them on either side of his face. “You want a kiss sweetheart? No problem, I’ll give you a taste of--” You cut him off with a rough twist, and the awfully delightful sound of his neck snapping, causing him to immediately go limp in your arms. You roughly toss his body away from you in disgust. Thank the maker that was finally over.

You shake your head lightly to yourself to regain your composure, and turn back just in time to see the familiar shine of the Mandalorian as he walks through the seemingly abandoned street. He pauses right in the middle of the road, in the middle of where everyone is hiding out.

There's a moment, a moment of absolute silence, as the armored man stands in the middle of the road unmoving.

You can practically taste the tension in the air. It’s like time stops. Every moment suspended in mid-air waiting for the drop.

You start to question whether or not you missed the signal, were they all waiting on you? You didn’t see or hear anything....kriff, what if it happened while you were snapping that guy's neck?

Clink. Clink. Clinkclinkclink clink

A metal canister bounces out across the street and rolls to a stop, drawing both the attention of you and the Mandalorian.

The can starts to hiss lightly, before the hiss erupts suddenly into a plume of fog that quickly begins to fill the street.

That's the signal.

Just as quickly as fog fills the street, consuming the Mandalorian in it’s haze, smugglers emerge and drop down from their various hiding spots, and with it their shouts and yells as they make a charge for their target.

Blaster fire lights up the fog filled street in smears of color, and you can hear how it ricochets off your accomplice’s beskar.

You quickly scramble to grab the long range rifle next to you, and switch the setting on your helmet’s hud so you can easily see the heat signatures through the fog. Quickly searching around with your scope you lock on one of the poor souls still emerging from their hiding place. You squeeze the trigger, and fire.

Your blaster bolt whistles through, lighting up the fog around it as it makes perfect contact with your target, sending them dropping limply to the floor.

You’re immediately locking onto another target, you fire, direct hit.

You can hear the clashing below you as the Mandalorian fights on the ground, and you take aim on another target. There's too much going on down there, you don’t feel like you can get a clear shot. Heat signatures are overlapping, and people are moving too quickly. You attempt to take a shot when you think you have an opening, but a blaster bolt gets ricocheted in your direction, causing you to jerk away just as you squeeze the trigger, and you miss.

You let out a frustrated growl and readjust your hold on the rifle, rolling your shoulder back to loosen up before you take aim. You scan through the fog, through the heat signatures, it’s easy to spot the Mandalorian like this. His beskar makes his heat signature entirely unique. He’s being surrounded by five or six men, all haphazardly lunging at him, trying to overwhelm him with their number alone.

Quickly you flick on your comm as you aim at one of the men circling behind him.

“Careful on your left.” You warn, just as you pull the trigger, sending your bolt whizzing right over his shoulder and making direct contact with the man behind him, sending him collapsing to the floor. You see the Mandalorian quickly look behind him as the body collapses, then shoots his glace directly to where your shot came from, directly at you.

He doesn’t have the chance to even think about flicking his comm on before another is making a charge at him. As much as you have a vantage point where you are, you have a need to be there on the floor with him. You’re not a bad shot, but it’s not your strongest skill, and you know you would be much more effective in close combat.

“I’m coming down, hang tight!” You flick your commlink back off and hop down to the ground beneath you. You keep low, sneaking the best you can through the fog. You’re not sure if anyone has noticed yet, that you’ve turned on them. Best to keep it that way as long as you can. Surely Rrollesh has noticed your absence, but then again, you haven't seen him either.

You draw your blade, and grip it tight in front of you as you make your way through the fog. You slow your pace and quiet your steps as you begin to come up behind someone, firing their blaster in the Mandalorian’s direction. It doesn’t matter how many times you’ve done this, adrenaline rushes through you everytime, your heart pounding as you slowly and carefully sneak up right behind them. It squeezes in your chest when you finally make the lunge for them, clamping a hand over their mouth as you drive your blade deep into them. You let out a deep breath as you rip your blade back out and let their body drop to the floor.

But there's no time for relief, you hear someone behind you and immediately whip around to see another one of Rrollesh’s men staring you down with their comrades body by your feet. You waste no time gauging their reaction, and quickly rush towards him. He readies up both of his vibroblades and lunges right back at you with pure ferociousness.

Your blades clash together violently, grinding against each other as sparks fly from the impact. You’re unrelenting in your offense, one powerful jab after another, as you continue to push him back, crowding him with your attacks. He struggles to block each one, not even getting a chance to make an attack on you. The pure force from each hit, forcing him to take several steps back.

He steps sideways when you make another lunge for him, causing you to swipe nothing but air. You whip around just in time to barely block his oncoming attack. Your blades lock together and you shove him back with as much force as you can muster, sending him stumbling backwards. You waste no time barreling forward, knocking him to the ground, and rushing to pin him down, plunging your blade deep in his chest.

“I should have known…,” You shoot your gaze up at the unmistakable sound of Rrollesh’s deep and guttural voice. He takes a heavy step towards you, his figure transforming from a blurry shadow to a clear image of the hulking Trandoshan before you. “Do you intend to make a fool of me?” He growls out threateningly.

You rip your blade out from the body beneath you without a word, keeping the gaze of your visor fixed on his. You’re trying to mask how heavy your breathing from the earlier fight, keeping yourself as still as possible as he towers over you.

“I want both those Mandalorians dead! Kill them both!” He roars through the fog, taking a step back, “I want both their helmets on my wall!” He lets out a dark and throaty laugh, watching you jump to your feet as two of his goons rush for you.

You clash blades with the first one, spinning around to elbow the second right in the face as he tries to grab you from behind. You’re barely able to bring up your vambrance in time to block the first one coming right back at you again full force. His blade runs hot grinding against your beskar, the sparks lighting up your visor in a brilliant display of color. You kick him as hard as you possibly can in the gut, sending him barreling to the ground, only for you to be grabbed roughly from behind, a blade to your throat.

You struggle to hold the blade back, and try to shake him loose. Roughly jostling left and right to no avail, before finally mustering the strength to haul him over your shoulder. You succeed, but it’s sloppy, the force of it throwing you to the ground next to him. Pure adrenaline pumps through your veins as you swipe at him with a shout of fury from where you are on the floor. He’s frantically crawling backwards away from you, as you continue to furiously swipe at him.

His partner suddenly lunges on top of you, and makes a jab at you at the same time you quickly roll over in his grasp. His blade plunges into your side, causing you to scream out in pain as you feel the blade shred through your flesh in the exposed portion just beneath where your chest plate ends. You still feel the burning heat of pain radiating from your gushing wound as he rips the blade back out of you.

You struggle in his grasp as he makes another jab for your neck. You’re barely able to roll just enough sideways that he hits the ground next to you. You violently thrash as he slams your pauldron back down into the duracrete beneath you, as you’re straining to reach for your blaster with your non-dominant hand, trying to ignore the searing pain from your fresh wound.

He lifts up, readying his blade to make the final blow, just as you manage to get a grip on your weapon.

Hastily you squeeze the trigger just as he comes down full force.

BAM

He falls limp on top of you, His blade still thrumming wildly as it falls from his grip. You don’t even take a second to breathe as you hear quickening footsteps from above you.

You swiftly wrestle your arm from underneath the dead body on top of you and tilt your helmet against the floor, just enough to aim at his partner barreling towards you, and fire.

His body skids to a halt next to you as it falls, and you’re finally able to take a breath. You rest your head back against the ground with a metallic thud as you try to steady your breathing, before hauling the body off of you and straining to get back to your feet with your hand clamped to your injured side, still clutching your blade.

How many more were there? You alone had already taken out eight men, who knows how many the Mandalorian had taken out. This was way more than you were expecting, and you haven’t even gotten to Rrollesh yet. You quickly look down at your hand holding your wound to assess the damage. There's blood, but not too much. Could be worse, you can still fight.

With your blaster drawn and ready, still in your non-dominant hand, you quickly make your way to the middle of the road where you can hear the clash of the Mandalorian fighting off another enemy.

You make it just in time to see the body drop to the floor, and join the various others scattered around the armored man’s feet. He’s been busy too apparently.

“Good to see you still standing, shiny.” You quip as you circle around to be back to back with him, scanning the fog for more enemies.

“Looks like you’re barely able to.” He teases back as the two of you stand ready for any further oncoming attacks.

“I’ve seen worse.” You shrug, “There can’t be much more of them left.”

You hear Rrollesh’s voice break through the fog, but you don’t see him.

“I’m sick of playing games.” He bellows out, “This ends now!” You hear the unmistakable clinking of another metal canister bounce onto the road, only this time, as soon as the hissing erupts into another cloud of fog, you’re blinded.

Your entire vision through the visor is filled with a bright blaring white. You quickly shield your eyes, but find the light isn’t letting up. It takes you a second to feel the hot air as it surrounds you. It wasn’t a flash bomb, no this was definitely a fog--a mist of some kind, but the heat of it was fucking up your visor.

“What the hell is that?!” You shout quickly struggling to swap the setting on your helmet as you try to recover from the blinding light of it.

“Some kind of thermal screen.” The Mandalorian grunts out, clearly struggling as much as you with the sudden blindness.

It’s abruptly clear to you now that the two of you were now at a disadvantage. Your thermal scanners now rendered absolutely useless. You were completely blind.

You and the Mandalorian continue your guard, back to back as you slowly circle around just waiting for the attack.

You hear him before you see him, one of Rrollesh’s goons shouting as he rushes the both of you. Your armored partner clashes with him first, cutting in front of you to block the man’s blade with his vambrace. At the same time, a blaster shot zips through the air and collides with your chest plate, forcing you to take a step back.

You fire back in the same direction it came blindly, simply hoping for the best. There was no way you could aim properly while blinded like this. You’re barely able to see a foot in front of you. Another slurry of blaster shots get sent your way, knocking against your chest plate and pauldron as the Mandalorian continues to push back against the blade wielder. You take another shot, focusing directly where the last one came from, and praying for a hit.

There's no way to know for sure until this is all over, but with the grunt you hear, and the clatter of something falling, you're almost positive it hits. While you’re focusing on that, another smuggler jumps out from the fog and onto the back of the Mandalorian, trying to hold him steady so the other can get a clear shot. You hear the struggle behind you and swiftly turn around to help.

The Mandalorian gives a couple quick elbow jabs to the man holding him in a lock, loosening his grip just enough he can rip him off. At the same time, you ready your blade and make a fierceful jab right into the side of the other man, causing him to double over and clutch his side in pain. Which leaves him wide open for you to deliver the finishing blow. His body hits the ground at the same time you hear the Mandalorian fire off two blaster shots, followed by the thud of another body. The deadly combination of you both made you feel unstoppable. Even with your injury, there was no doubt in your mind the two of you were walking away from this.

You resume your defensive position, back to back, standing ready for any further attacks.

But no one comes.

Silence fills the street again, revealing just how heavy your breathing is after all of this fighting and your injury. You feel sweaty under your helmet, your hair sticking to your face, while you focus on the empty fog in front of you.

A sudden bone chilling, angered roar rips through the fog.

“I’ll kill you!” Rrollesh roars out in pure fury, “I’ll kill you myself! Tear you limb from limb! Make you suffer! Beg for me to end it!” You can almost feel the vibration from his powerful growl as it echoes through the street surrounding you. It feels like it’s coming from all around you all at once, leaving you unable to pin his exact direction.

He continues to growl out angrily, animalistic huffs of pure, raw rage. You think he's circling the both of you. Like a predator stalking its prey. Waiting for his moment to strike. Or maybe, he was building himself up, letting the rage boil up inside of him, working himself up to the point of no return.

You notice something out of your peripheral, and you instinctively quickly move to dodge out of the way. Just in time for a hulking, mass of metal to come slicing through the fog and collide with the ground with an ear splitting clang.

Rrollesh roars out as he lifts the weapon again, swinging back at you full force. You’re just able to move back enough for it to just barely miss your chest plate by a hair's width. Too close for comfort. The weapon was brutal, the biggest vibroaxe you had ever seen. The sheer mass of it alone was enough to spark fear in the hearts of many, combined with its gnarled edges, it felt like a weapon of nightmares. The brute strength alone needed to wield it seemed only appropriate for the towering reptilian before you.

You keep moving back with every one of his powerful swings, dodging becomes more and more difficult with your wound seering in pain with every movement. The Mandalorian fires his blaster at Rrollesh, but despite his size, and the insanity of the weapon he's holding, Rrollesh spins, bringing the flat of the axe up to block the oncoming bolt. How was he so quick? It seems impossible.

With his attention now turned toward your partner, the hulking Trandoshan makes a charge towards the Mandalorian, seeming to block his oncoming blaster fire with ease. He makes several wide swings, the Mandalorian barely able to dodge himself despite the lack of injury on his part. With every swing Rrollesh lets out a bone chilling growl while he advances on the Mandalorian.

You attempt to intervene, rushing the absolute mammoth before you, and driving your blade deep in his vulnerable side, left exposed from his wide swings. He barely reacts, and you panic when you attempt to drive it out, only to find your blade is stuck within his tough flesh.

You quickly abandon your blade, and lurch back creating as much space between the two of you as you can. He slowly turns towards you, his scarred eye burning a hole through you, as he snarls, baring his incredible sharp teeth. You think he’s going to make another swing at you, try to bring you to the ground, but he surprises both you and the Mandalorian when he suddenly swings back around bringing his blade down full force on the chrome beskar.

There’s a terrifying display of color as sparks nearly blind you when the axe makes contact with the beskar. The pure force from the blow sends the Mandalorian flying backwards with a wrecked grunt. You know the power from it had to have hurt, and bad. Probably knocked all of the air from his lungs, and made his head spin. Perhaps he was even knocked unconscious.

And when he doesn’t get up from the ground, you know you’re right.

Rrollesh wastes no time advancing on him, his intention to finish the job is clear as he stomps over to the weak body of the armored man on the floor. You quickly move to stop him, firing your blaster as rapidly as you can haphazardly, even if only to serve as a distraction long enough for your partner to recover--and move. Quickly.

Rrollesh turns back to face you, and lets his nightmare of a weapon rest on the ground, dragging it behind him as he rapidly advances towards you. You’ve seen a lot in your time travelling through the galaxy, you’ve experienced the worst of the worst. Hardly anything phases you anymore.

But this?

Rrollesh, and his imposing figure barrelling towards you with such determination--such speed--pure rage apparent in his eyes--as you hauls that massive, hulking, terror of an axe behind him?

You feel fear.

Not adrenaline, not the rush of battle--

But for the first time in a long time, you feel pure, bone chilling terror pouring through your veins.

You don’t even have time to process the ice you feel creeping down your spine as you attempt to fire more rounds at him. Which of course, he manages to block with ease. Just when he gets within distance of you, he swings at you. You manage to dodge, but not quick enough, his swing clips your hand, sending your blaster skittering across the street, and a searing pain shooting through the entirety of your arm, sending you to your knees, clutching your hand in absolute agony.

You quickly shoot a glance behind the man towering over you. The Mandalorian was still on the floor, but he’s moving. Groaning as he tries to shakily pick himself up from the floor.

But you shouldn’t have done that.

Because it draws the attention of Rrollesh, who quickly abandons you when he’s reminded of his task to finish him off. Before you can even shout to warn your partner of the impending attack, Rrollesh is already hauling his massive axe into the air.

Without thinking--without even realizing it, you jump to your feet and activate your whipcord thrower, sending a line of fibercord wrapping around the powerful weapon in Rrollesh’s grasp. You struggle to keep your hold on it, the brute strength from it’s wielder causing your heels to drag lightly beneath you.

He glances at you over his shoulder with an irritated growl and yanks his axe to the side with such a force, it sends you flying forward, and skidding across the duracrete road beneath you. He swings in the opposite direction, dragging you with it as you try your best to keep your hold. You struggle to hold your vambrace steady long enough that you can hit the button.

But as soon as you do, an electric current is suddenly ripping down the length of your fibercord, lighting up around both you and Rrollesh as the bolts of electricity consume his hulking metal axe. He lets out a deafening roar of pain as he releases the weapon, sending it clattering to the ground. You quickly yank it away from him, pulling it far out of his reach.

In a blind fit of rage, Rrollesh goes to grab at the Mandalorian despite not having a weapon, needing some release for his boiling anger. But instead, he’s met with a burst of red hot flame from the mandalorians built in flame thrower.

Rrollesh stumbles back from the heat, bringing his arms up to shield his face. Leaving him completely distracted and totally exposed. This is your chance. Despite your throbbing pain, you muster up every ounce of your strength to shakily get to your feet, grab your blaster, and quickly come right up behind him. Readying your blaster to fire, once, twice, three times in the back of his scaled head.

He collapses to the floor with a powerful thud.

You still have your blaster up as you stand there, trying to steady your breathing. You let your arm drop limply to your side with a deep exhale. It was finally over. You look over to the Mandalorian still on the ground in front of you, his visor fixed to Rrollesh’s dead body as his chest heaves, breathing just as heavy as you.

You walk over to him, holstering your blaster and clutching your injured side. You hold your free arm out to him, which he takes, and you help haul him up from the floor.

“See? I told you it would be easy.” You give his shoulder a playful whack as you let out a light chuckle.

He just locks his visor to yours for a second, before dejectedly shaking his head at your antics.

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

“Well would you look at that? You actually made it out alive.” Is how the mechanic decides to welcome you back as you and the Mandalorian enter the hangar.

“How are the repairs coming?” You ask as you approach him.

“They’re done already. Got it done a bit quicker than I thought.” He nods, before looking you up and down, clearly noticing the way you're gripping your side, “You take care of Rrollesh?”

You fish out the credits you pocketed from Rrollesh’s body earlier, and toss them at the mechanic. He catches the hefty bag in pure disbelief.

“Think those belong to you.” You nod your helmet towards him. He pauses, staring at you for a moment, before quickly opening up the bag and nearly gasping at the amount of credits inside.

“Thank you.” He says finally, hooking the bag onto his belt. “I owe you--this whole town owes you. You’ve done us a huge favor.” You can feel the sincerity in his voice.

“That enough to cover our repairs?” You tease, tilting your helmet to the side.

“And then some.” He laughs nodding, “You’re lucky I didn’t charge you extra for having to watch that little womp rat.” He notions in the direction of the ship with a tilt of his head.

You let out a laugh despite the pain from your injury, “Thank you, I know first hand what a pain he can be.”

“He was good actually. Let him run around the hangar for a bit and he’s been sleeping peacefully ever since.” The mechanic crosses his arms in front of his chest, “Next time you find yourself in this sector, stop by. I’ll give you a tune up on me.”

The Mandalorian speaks up this time as he passes you to board the ship, “I’ll hold you to that.” And then he’s already up the ramp and you and the mechanic watch as he disappears into the hull.

“Until next time.” You give the mechanic a final nod before you head up the ramp yourself, “And hey, get yourself some new droids, you deserve it!” You exchange a wave before closing the ramp to the ship.

It doesn’t take long before you feel the ship rumble to life beneath you as you grab yourself a medkit. You situate yourself on a crate, and begin working at removing your armor as the ship takes off into the familiar confines of space.

By the time you finish applying a healthy dose of bacta, and are working to wrap a thick bandage around your middle, the Mandalorian has already made the jump into hyperspace, and is descending the ladder of the cockpit to join you in the hull.

He doesn’t acknowledge you at all as he makes his way to the alcove and opens the compartment to check on the kid. You barely make a glance at him, too busy tending to your own wounds as he scoops the sleeping child up into his arms.

“Shouldn’t wake him” You warn, not lifting your gaze from your work as you fasten your bandages. He practically ignores you, not saying anything as he gives Grogu a light stroke to his forehead, drawing out the smallest of coos from the sleepy bundle. The Mandalorian is careful as he moves to take a seat on a crate opposite from you, cradling the child in his arms.

It was amazing to you, the striking contrast of the powerful bounty hunter, and how soft he was for this child. He clearly cared deeply for the little thing, a vulnerability you never would have expected.

“How are your wounds?” The Mandalorian asks quietly, lifting his gaze from the child to address you.

“Nothing some bacta can’t fix. Like I said, I’ve seen worse.” You shrug as you readjust your undershirt.

“Good.” Is all he says in return, and fixes his gaze back on the child.

You watch the two of them, unabashedly. Nearly enjoying the silence after today. But then you remember the realization you had earlier before the fight.

“Thanks for helping me with the job.” You finally speak out, rolling your head back to release some of the tension in your neck, “couldn’t have done it without you.” You admit quietly.

“And uh…” You start, and he lifts his helmet again, tilting his visor slightly as he waits for you to finish, “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” His voice is quiet, clearly trying not to wake the child.

“For how I acted back on Coruscant.”

“It’s fine.” He dismisses you, before you even get the chance to elaborate. This clearly wasn’t bothering him as much as it was bothering you.

“It’s not fine.” You give him a stern look, “We accepted the job together, I should have been working with you not against you. And I definitely shouldn’t have put it all on you when things went south.” He looks back up to you, but doesn’t say anything. What could he even really say?

“That was a tough job for me...,” You continue after a long silence between the two of you , “And I let my own insecurities get the best of me. So I’m sorry. I-I havent…,” You hesitate, taking a moment to figure out how you want to word this, “...It’s been awhile since I’ve worked with anyone else so try to bear with me while I get back into the swing of things.”

The Mandalorian doesn’t say anything at first. He stands and gently puts the child back into his hammock in the alcove and shuts the door. You honestly don’t think he’s going to say anything, just leave your sincerity hanging in the air.

“I’m surprised by your insecurity.” He surprises you when he does speak. Not only because he spoke, but because that's definitely not at all the response you were expecting.

“What do you mean?” You ask, tilting your head at him confused by his odd response.

“You said you let your insecurities get the best of you, I'm surprised. What are you insecure about?” He settles back down in his previous spot on the crate opposite to you, his visor settling right on your gaze.

You hesitate, you're not sure you're ready to divulge such sensitive information to a man who, before today, you couldn’t stand to be around. Something in you decides you owe it to him, an explanation for your behavior, it's part of your apology.

“About being a good hunter.” You finally admit after far too long. And he just tilts his helmet at you, an unspoken urge for you to explain further.

“I only got into the business a few years ago.” You confess, “I’m constantly worried I’m not good enough for the job.”

“You had a commission price double what mine was for the same quarry, and you worry you’re not good enough?” He sounds genuinely curious, not like he’s judging at all, and honestly you're thankful for it.

“That's just it. I…” You trail off again and scan the floor as you search for your words. How much do you want to divulge here exactly? You take a deep breath before starting again, “My husband, he's the one who taught me everything I know. He’s the reason I got into the guild. I had never even been off the surface of my home planet before him.” You explain, avoiding eye contact with his visor, which is still locked on you intently as you speak, “And he-- now he was a good hunter. He already had a reputation, I was just sort of...in the shadow of it. I get the good commissions because of his reputation, because of his skill.” You sigh, and finally work up the courage to look back at his visor, “I guess I’m just worried I’m just simply riding his success instead of living up to it.”

You feel so awkward, talking about this. It feels strange, unnatural. Especially with not being able to see the face of the Mandalorian in front of you. You can’t gauge his reactions at all, and it only works to make you more nervous as you spill your feelings out to him.

“With how you fought today I don’t think you have anything to worry about.”

It’s such a small thing, his response. Just one sentence, one short simple sentence. But somehow, it struck you. It catches you off guard how much that one, simple sentence actually means to you. How could he have possibly known the perfect thing to say to you, when you didn’t even know it yourself? It was somehow perfectly reassuring without being belittling. There's so much to unpack, not only is he saying he thinks you fought well today, but that you fought well enough you were deserving of your status within the guild, even without your husband's presence.

And maybe--maybe it’s not actually that deep. Maybe you’re simply putting your own meaning into his words where there isn’t any meaning at all, but stars, regardless if that's the case or not, that sentence means everything to you right now.

You suddenly realize you’ve been staring at him dumbly in silence this whole time. You quickly try to compose yourself, clearing your throat and averting your gaze.

“Thank you.” You finally muster out, trying to play it cool. He just nods.

“Oh, before I forget.” He gets up to grab his go-bag, the one he was carrying the child in earlier, “Here, this is for you.” He rummages in the bag for a moment and pulls out some kind of wrapped paper bundle, handing it to you.

You take it from him hesitantly and utterly confused. You carefully begin to unwrap the paper, and gasp at the sight you reveal.

It’s food, real--honest to maker food.

Some kind of fried pastries, it definitely wasn’t fresh anymore, but stars, did it look delicious regardless.

“The kid liked those best” He says casually, like he didn’t just give you the most perfect gift you could have ever asked for.

But that's just it, you didn’t ask for this. How did he know how badly you had been craving this all kriffing day? This is the one thing you’ve been wanting more than anything else since you landed on Utrost, and he just handed it to you, wrapped up, as a gift. Because the kid liked it best?

Maybe he really had no idea, just bought it on a whim and it just happened to be the perfect gift. Just like he just happened to know the perfect thing to say to you about feeling insecure. You feel like you’re about to lose your mind. Who the hell was this guy?

“Thank you.” Is all you can manage once again. You feel like a fool struggling this much over some street food.

He simply nods at you before he’s taking his leave to the cockpit, leaving you alone once again in the hull of the ship to indulge in your food in peace.

The second you take a bite, pure bliss radiates to every inch of your body. You nearly groan at how absolutely fantastic it tastes, and it's no surprise to you that this was the kids favorite. Maker, you can only imagine how much better it would have tasted fresh. Maybe it’s because this was the first bite of something other than a ration pack you’ve had in weeks, but you swear, this was the best thing you had ever tasted in the galaxy.

Maybe partnering up with this Mandalorian wasn’t such a bad idea after all. **** Previous - MASTER - Next

#The mandalorian #din djarin #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin x reader #din x reader #din djarin x you #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #mando x reader #mando x you #reader insert #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian fanfic #fanfic

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druidx · 4 years ago

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Family Treasures

Fandom: Thunderbirds Are Go (2015) Context: A friend linked me a TAG fic with the most perfect description of Lasagna I have ever read. I then got carried away and read nearly every fic she recommended to me... and then I figured I should watch the 2015 version of Thunderbirds (having only seen fragments of the original ‘60s show as a kid)... and then this happened. I’ve also been leaning heavily into the subtext thing still, so constructive criticism, with subtext in mind, is welcome on this piece. Words: 1700 CW: Injury mention, worried people, minor maudlin thoughts Tagged: @viawrites-andacts @strosmkai-rum @scribeofred Read on AO3

Kayo paces. Her sleek leather boots sink into the plush carpet of Tracy Island's lounge. She has been grounded by injury, left to recover while the Tracy boys are out there doing what they do best. She trusts them; knows they know what they're doing, knows they can handle themselves... But it doesn't help. Her fingers itch to activate the comms, but she doesn't. The boys don't need her micromanaging, and she trusts John to forward anything if he thinks she can assist... But still, the ache remains.

Those leather boots softly tap as she reaches the parquet flooring, and Kayo finds herself standing in front of Jeff's desk. It's a big, sturdy, mahogany thing. Impish sunlight glints off the polished surface, winking and laughing. It makes her think of Virgil. The sun drifts behind a cloud, and the laughter vanishes. She turns away.

Her steps lead her to the portrait of Thunderbird One, and the nicknacks beside it. Her eyes slide over the portrait – seen a hundred times before – to an antique barometer on the shelves. And there is Scott: Quicksilver in a glass; carefully controlled vim and daring. She pictures him in freefall, madcap laughter stolen by the rushing wind. The thought of his pack failing at fifty thousand feet is enough to have her leaning against the wall, head reeling like she's nosediving, seconds before the impact that has left her arm in a sling, and Thunderbird Shadow a pile of scrap.

Kayo huffs out her indignation at her weak and maudlin thoughts, wrenching back from the wall. She pinwheels away, her boots marking out time on the parquet as she passes in front of the vast window. Outside the sun glimmers off the swimming pool. Bright. Cheery. Such a laughable contrast to the storm inside. She wishes it were raining, dark skies and tempestuous winds. The bowl of forget-me-not blue is almost mocking in its temptation. She closes her eyes, breathing deeply, and brings herself back to ground level.

Kayo finds herself in the far corner of the lounge, at a kitschy '60s coffee table tucked into the fold of the room. On its surface sits a porcelain pug, which reminds her of Sherbet – and, by extension, his owner. It appears delicate – a dainty conversation piece; but her foot knows it is sturdier than one might think. Her eye catches on a woollen beanie, abandoned next to the pug – and she scowls; Lady Penelope has Parker to keep her from serious trouble. Kayo's brothers are up there without their usual safety net.

She turns back, pacing towards the piano. She plays only a little; her mother insisted, to start with. But after a year of tantrums and sword fights, Mama Kyrano gave up. But the island is empty – even Grandma Tracy is on the mainland – and the house is too quiet.

Kayo sits down at the piano and raises the lid, leaning absently to the side as a small, spring-loaded, plastic frog sails over her shoulder – the latest victim in the ongoing prank war. Her fingers wander over the ivories, and she settles into picking out Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star in the upper third. As the sweet notes fill the air, Alan comes to mind – bright, lively, graceful; effortless as the rising music. Kayo lifts her head as if she might somehow see to the edge of space; see Thunderbird Three shimmering with star-stuff as if picked out in the silver, gossamer notes she plays. She dismisses the fanciful thought with a twitch of the lips, finishing the refrain.

As her hand falls still, she looks across the room, gaze drawn back to Jeff's desk. She remembers the moment he asked her to become his head of security – when Papa Kyrano retired. She'd not long returned from her last field stint with Mossad when he'd called her to the desk. His lips had asked her to help him protect the world; his eyes had asked her to protect his boys.

Kayo sighs, the guilt of disappointing the indomitable Jeff Tracy laying heavily over her shoulders. She closes the lid and turns on the stool, intending to resume viewing life through the plate-glass barrier, when her foot nudges the plastic amphibian, abandoned on the floor. She picks the thing up, lips quirking at the cartoonish features – the bugging eyes and wide, red grin – and is inexplicably reminded of Gordon. Kayo places it on the piano, where it wobbles, brilliant green out of place on the ebony-silk surface. Three birds, two star-men, but only one squid-boy. She purses her lips and tries to tell herself the unease this thought causes is about lack of process redundancy. Perhaps she should expand her skillset in an aquatic direction...

She stands with purpose and walks over to the nook in which sits Goron's transport chute. But as Kayo reaches over to activate the chute, a flicker of something catches her eye. Her free hand is already fumbling for her stun-gun when the interloper reveals itself: a long-legged tropical spider has found its way into the aquarium. It flails and panics, and she wonders if it might drown. But even as she watches, it's already hoisting out of the water and building a complicated nest in the corner of the tank. Kayo watches it work, watches its ingenious use of resources in an unfamiliar environ, watches it engineer a refuge... and thinks of Doctor Hackenbacker. Distracted from her previous thought, Kayo turns away from the chute access, making a note to tell Gordon about the spider. She doesn't think it's a threat to the fish, and the lid is a four-handed affair. Besides, knowing Gordon, he'll want to coddle the thing before he releases it.

Instead, Kayo climbs to the mezzanine. Somewhere in the aether, a stack of security reports grows ever larger, but she is unable to read them, to even consider distracting herself with them at a time like this. Worry still fills the well of her stomach, bilious and vile. There are too many close calls, too many near misses. Too many times she's snatched one of her brothers from certain doom. She's so useless here. Idly, she picks up a blown-glass paperweight. Does John ever feel like this? she wonders as she stares into its nebulaeic swirls. Drifting high above them, like a flame-haired malāk – a messenger of God – with his brothers so far from his grasp, does John ever feel powerless? She wonders how he does it: how he can stay so removed from the action, remaining so calm. She wonders how he manages the silent panic that maybe this is the mission someone does not come back from.

The glass has chilled her hand, chasing phantom skeins of cold and fatigue through her body. Kayo carefully replaces the paperweight and makes her way back down the stairs. She settles into the sofa lining the conversation pit, a hand falling to her side as she allows her body to sink into the plush stuffing. Something rough touches the side of her hand, and Kayo fishes out a blackened cookie from where someone – Gordon or Alan, most likely – has stuffed it between the sofa cushions. Kayo screws up her nose, making a noise of revulsion. It's been at least a week since Grandma Tracy tried baking again. Mouth still in a down-curve of disgust, she leans to put the cookie on the table but finds herself pausing as the light sluices across its dark, oleaginous, undulating surface. It reminds her of the Iceland mission and the pictures of cooling magma Doctor Hackenbacker proudly showed off – and his lecture on igneous rocks. Created by fire, he'd said, melded and reforged into something tougher. Used the world over – even here on the island – as foundations. Unshakable and resistant to all the world could throw. It makes her think of the island's second foundation, of all Grandma Tracy has been through, and yet still stands firm and loving despite it.

She wishes any of her extended family were here, now. Like that spider, Kayo feels out of her depth, could do with someone strong, cheery, soothing; a solidity under her feet. But they are not.

Kayo is a woman who knows when her limits have been met. The island is empty, there's no one around to witness the break caused by cracks of worry, pain and fatigue. Her lip wobbles, vision growing hazy with tears. She gives a small sob, then another, allowing herself the luxury of a little cry.

"Kayo?" She sniffs, swatting at her eyes, and looks up to see Alan's hologram looking down at her, eyes pinched with worry, tone edging towards frantic. "Kayo, is everything okay? John-" "John," comes the even tone of the auburn-haired man who appears next, "should be more careful about what side remarks he makes while on comms to his worry-wart little brother." He rolls his eyes. "Sorry to disturb you, Kayo. But your telemetry did do something unusual a few moments ago-" "Kayo? Alan pinged me. What's your status?" Scott cuts in, as if they are in the sky and all is normal. Before Kayo can say anything, Lady Penelope appears, the picture of decorum and class as usual. "I'm sure it was nothing. Isn't that right, darling? Just a little wobble, eh?" her Ladyship says. "'Wobble'?" asks Gordon, from where he and Brains cluster behind the pilot of Thunderbird Two. "What the hell does- Hey!" Kayo's lips twitch in amusement, as Gordon rubs his head from where Virgil has given him a brotherly love-tap. "It means: keep your nose out, squid-boy," Virgil tells him. "Is everything okay, Kayo dear?" says Grandma Tracy. "John asked me to- Oh," she adds, looking at the packed comm channel. "Well, it looks like you all beat me to the pinch." She smiles and rubs the back of her neck. Kayo looks over her family with a swift, critical eye. Apart from Gordon's head, they all appear healthy and uninjured. Relief floods through her, loosening tense muscles. Her wry amusement turns into a full-blown smile. "I'm alright," she says. "Like Penny said, it was just a little wobble. Everything is F.A.B."

#writing #tanusha 'kayo' kyrano #thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds fandom #constructive critism welcome #wandering words

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dingoat · 5 years ago

Note

Relationship Asks for Ahuska and Five: 2, 4, 7, 16, 17, 18, 19, 21, 22, 23, 27, 28, 29.

OH BOY OH BOY *cracks knuckles* time for another round of BEST GIRL VS WORST BOY.

Obviously this one needs a ‘read more’ (or ‘stick it behind a cut’ as my old school livejournal brain still thinks of it) because it’s gonna be a looonnnng one ahahaha. Some of these I’ve answered already but I’m just gonna copy-paste the responses here to keep it all together, especially since I’m gonna go through question by question for the sake of fun comparisons/contrasts rather than character by character!

2. ♥ When they have a crush on someone, how do they let them know?

Ahuska finds ways to be around them as much as possible and offers rapt attention to everything they say and do, showing interest in every part of their life, even the things she’d never given a second thought for beforehand. She’ll initiate physical contact, often in that ‘accidental’ sort of way- a hand touch that lingers, sliding down a bench a little ‘too far’ and winding up pressed together at the hips, feet bumping under a table, but sometimes more overt things like snuggling down and resting her head in a lap while staying up late watching holos might happen...

Five does not crush, he’s not twelve years old. When he has an interest in someone he may spend a period of time testing for compatability, pushing and pressing for reactions, and if he finds himself still interested (but for whatever reason nothing has naturally escalated in the meanwhile), he will quite simply and overtly request private company.

4. ♥ Do they spend a lot of time in the courting stage or attempt to get to first base as fast as possible?

Ahuska likes the thought of a long courtship, being wooed and pursued, teasing and flirting and yearning... but though she doesn’t actively try to rush her way to ‘first base’, precedent definitely suggests that once the option is there, no matter the time frame, she doesn’t really hesitate.

Five considers ‘first base’ (if you must phrase it in such a juvenile fashion) to be a starting point.

7. ♥ How do they feel about polygamy?

Ahuska’s intial gut reaction, when asked, is that it’s vastly preferable to having an affair! She thinks it’s a perfectly acceptable style of relationship, but it’s not something she’s ever related to herself- the thought that she might ever find herself loving and desiring more than one someone so deeply as to want them in her life to the same degree seems so beyond the realms of possibility that it’s just never crossed her mind. (Yet.)

However; she is incredibly committed and loyal in her relationships, and if she did find herself in such a place, she wouldn’t be able to handle sneaking behind backs or lies or secrecy; the guilt and misery and betrayal of trust would be the end of her. She would have to either leave one forever unrecognised/unsatisfied, or give polygamy some long and serious thought and very open discussion.

Five doesn’t really care what other people do, but it’s irrelevant to him because it suggests any kind of committed relationship at all. He simply sees who he wants, when he wants, and if anyone gets jealous of anyone else then that sounds like a them problem.

16. ♥ Do they have at least one bonding activity they devote to doing with their partner exclusively?

Aside from the obvious, I’m not sure Ahuska makes a point of keeping any particular activity exclusive? Sweet, potentially romantic activities like stargazing and long moonlit walks might naturally happen far more with the love of her life, but I don’t think she’d ever turn down the chance to do so with a close friend either (there’d just be less... hand-holding and cheek snuggles).

One might have thought that Five had a whole host of bonding activities exclusive to a single particular person... but what with that being more of a Watcher-Cipher thing, rather than a partners thing, that ‘exclusivity’ no longer exactly completely applies, whoops. (Granted, the new Cipher is not likely to ever experience the push-off-a-building trust exercise.) That said, it’s very likely that Thirteen is actually the only person who gets to experience Five in the context of completely casual, physical, and dare I say... affectionate company.

17. ♥ What sort of characteristics or quirks draw them to someone?

Ahuska needs to see the capacity for kindness, even if it’s wrapped in a crude, brash or sharp-edged package- or maybe especially so, because she is a little bit hopeless for a show of snark, cheek, and sharp wit (provided it’s not at her expense) and someone not afraid to draw blood to protect what they care about. She loves unexpected talents like dance or musical ability being sprung on her out of the blue, and she’s weak for demonstrations of confident competence.

Five is drawn to someone who can give and take as well as he can. Intelligence, attractiveness, skill. Wit and snark quite specifically at his expense so he has the opportunity to fight back; he wants to be challenged, but not beaten. His heart thunders for someone more physically capable than himself who he can, nonetheless, bring to their knees.

18. ♥ Do they have a ‘type’?

I thought Ahuska had a type, but I seem to have discovered that her heart is not quite so specific and compatability can come in more than one shape and size. She has a lot of love to give and can find it in very unexpected places.

Five definitely goes for people who demonstrate one very specific physical characteristic.

19. ♥ What was their first impression about their partner/person they are courting?

When Ahuska first saw Crow, she was struck with the fact that he didn’t carry himself with the alpha-dog machismo she’d come to expect from fellow Mandalorians of his particular demographic. And when he turned his grin her way, he very very firmly snared her attention.

When Ahuska first met Blakk, she simply thought he was a delightful, feisty, dear little fox, and was absolutely besotted with him, if not in the way that she eventually became (after the wildest possible ride of misunderstandings and twisted events and broken trust and reforged faith).

Five, I think, would have made a very swift and completely superficial assessment, found it very pleasing (provided there was no fashion disaster occurring at the time), and opened himself up to learning more. It wouldn’t have taken long to be drawn into that personality, either.

21. ♥ What was the most romantic time they had with their partner?

Ahuska’s most romantic time with Crow would almost definitely be their space-walk through the ice fields of Saleucami, followed by some slightly less life-threatening zero gravity playtime within the safety of their ship’s cargo hold. They’ve had a lot of terribly sweet moments but I’m not sure that any compare to that honeymoon trip.

With Blakk, Ahuska has experienced a number of wonderfully romantic moments... in their shared dreams. It can be hard to compete with a world where auroras and starlight of your own creation dance to the beat of your hearts as you discover just how real you are to one another, but in many ways that last morning they spent together in person before parting, before anything between them was properly admitted or understood, waking to the warmth of the sun and sharing a long breakfast together full of soft yearning and denial of the inevitable separation to come ranks very high on the heart aching romance scale.

Five understands ‘textbook romance’ perfectly well and has probably walked through all the steps with great success a number of times when seducing marks back in his Cipher days. But when it comes to his own actual desires….. it really is hard to apply the word ‘romantic’. Granted, he does enjoy the finer things in life and takes great pride in being a very good cook, and a certain someone knows exactly how to push his buttons to get most exactly what he wants out of him when he feels like it. So there probably have been some almost ‘nice’ evenings of home cooked meals and fine wine and bath oils, at least to begin with….?

22. ♥ Tell us about a sacrifice they made for their significant other.

Ahuska gave up Clan life, the chance to rise through the ranks and be the Mandalorian she never thought she could, and a lot of her innocence, to be with and stay with Crow.

For Blakk, Ahuska broke off her current romance, turned her back on her safety net, and basically gave up everything she had... just for the hope that they might find away to actually be together.

Five gave up a significant measure of control on two distinct occassions, both of which were considerably big deals for him.

23. ♥ Do they apologize to their partner even if it wasn’t their fault?

Ahuska will readily and even pre-emptively take on the blame for almost anything. If something is genuinely her fault, she will apologise profusely and genuinely, probably through tears, and feel bad about it long after forgiveness has been given. She will offer apologies even when not directly at fault if she thinks it will help to calm down or diffuse a situation.

Five, though, doesn’t do the ‘accepting blame’ thing and certainly won’t shoulder somebody else’s. The one occassion where he has accepted responsibility, he’s never actually said the word sorry aloud, and he’s not even come clean about the real circumstances. But his guilt over the matter is expressed still to this day, through actions and gifts that are never actually directly linked to the event in question.

27. ♥ Have they had dreams about their partner/the person they are courting?

Ahuska most certainly has; dreams are a significant part of every reality she experiences, and often a way that binds them together, so naturally the significant people in her life feature prominently. She’s leery of anything that has a sense of being prophetic, but does believe she’s witnessed possible futures in her dreams and the ones that suggest a long and full life with Crow are her favourites.

Through her Force-bond with Blakk, she’s been able to actually share dreams with him, which have been very profound experiences... but at the moment her dreams are only dreams, and any real senses she gets of him vanish the moment she tries to focus enough to actually reach him. It hurts.

Five dreams as anyone does, and there’s no doubt Thirteen would feature in them regularly. Nothing magical, nothing profound or prophetic, just good old fashioned disjointed images that the brain strings together in a loose approximation of a plot. What’s most disconcerting is if he makes any sort of appearance in his recurring nightmares.

28. ♥ Do they understand their partners/person they are courting’s feelings without them having to say anything?

Ahuska becomes very attuned to the people she cares most about; she’s naturally a very sensitive person who wants to understand her partners’ feelings, and her desire to understand and do the best for the people she loves is only ever enhanced by her connection to the Force. She’s connected to Crow through all their years and shared experiences together, and being tuned into the beat of his heart definitely helps her know his feelings despite what he might show on the outside. With Blakk she has the benefit of being literally bonded through the Force but... well. Hopefully they wind up back in a position where understanding one anothers’ feelings is a legitimate thing they can do. ;_;

Five is quite astute, if not completely fool-proof, and when he puts the effort in can do quite a servicable job of knowing where someone’s feelings are at- manipulation is one of the tools of his trade, after all. Just how much he actually cares to do so is a different story, but, well... stranger things have certainly happened. He might try to claim that Thirteen is an open book to him, but that might just be what Thirteen wants him to think.

29. ♥ How do they express their love to their partner?

Ahuska gives freely and openly, her time, her energy, her patience, her body and soul. She will share anything and everything, she will take risks for her partner and forsake all the rest of the galaxy for them. She will find little tokens to gift them; she will feature them amongst her sketches regularly, she will listen to them and back them up and walk beside them on the most foolardy of pursuits. She will find what matters to them, she will discover what they react and respond to best, and she will make it so. Ahuska doesn’t know how to love in any way other than giving it her all.

Five would never use so soft and loaded a term as ‘love’. That is for a completely different caliber of people, people he cares little for. Allowing someone into his apartment, into his personal space, is a reasonable demonstration fo trust. Giving someone his time outside of and completely unrelated to work is a monumental demonstration of fondness. A willingness to touch and be touched outside of immediate bedroom activities is a grand display of affection. Offering financial assistance/security is an unspoken indication that someone matters to him. Lump it all together and he’d still sooner shoot himself in the foot than admit aloud that he cares.

#ahuska asks #watcher five asks #relationship asks #omg i need to go sleep #ahahaha #apologies if this is riddled with typos and chopped up sentences #what an exercise in contrasts #tyty for asking!!#i love mulling over these things #i hope the answers satisfied #I'm too tired to make an objective judgement 8)

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thepilgrimofwar · 5 years ago

Text

Regret

Unpublished Follow up to Homefront & to Emmissary of the Fallen

Snow had begun to fall, coating all the courtyard in white except for Sederis’ altar which stayed under the protection of a spell. Zarannis had no such protection and kept her vigil even as the snow melted into her hair. It did not bother her in the slightest that Quel’thalas had lost her eternal spring, after all, winter was the Kestrel’s element and her people lived and died by it in the Cloudrend Glades. She stared at the corpse of the man she had once brought into those mountains in search of Zin’jang, crossing into valleys that did not exist on any map, and tried to remember her last words to him.

“Genocide?” She had shot him a dark look. “If the Shadow Eaters didn’t want to be wiped out, they wouldn’t have kept collecting skulls. Our skulls, or the skulls of our children.”

“They wouldn’t have collected skulls if they weren’t desperate to drive us out.” Sederis replied her look with one of his own. “Remember. We landed on these shores and murdered them until there were no more trolls to kill. Men, women and children- We’ve be wiping them out since the day we came here.”

“That’s ancient history! Were you alive then? Were these traitors alive? No! Why keep bringing up what our ancestors did?” Zarannis spat, clenching her hands into fists and marching right up to the noble brat.

He stood his ground. “Because that’s who we are! We live with what our ancestors did, whether you like it or not!”

“So how long then?” Her voice died down to a poisonous whisper. “How long must we pay for their sins? The rest of our lives? The lives of our children? Eternity? If you want to wallow in your forefather’s guilt, be my guest but don’t you dare try and drag me with you.” She looked him in the eyes. Uncompromising. Unflinching. “I’ve seen the aftermath of a troll raid on a logger’s cabin. I’ve cleaned up the pieces of that family. I’ve buried what remained of the children that lived there. Sure, my people have done the same or worse than their tribesmen, but that family? They did nothing except try to settle the frontier.”

“Their lands, their law.” Sederis stated, just as she had when they had first crossed into troll territory.

“When the law dictates the slaughter of innocents, then the law is wrong.”

That had been it. After that, they had returned to the Wintergale manor and went their separate ways. Those were her last words to him. Words of defiance. A challenging of the natural order of things, and the defense of age old hatred.

“Thank you for coming,” came a voice from behind her. But Zarrannis did not turn. She was fixated on the corpse of the man she had once known. Sederis Emberheart, laid out to rest. Dame Everleigh had returned him, probably half-expected that her worthy adversary would be resurrected. But try as they might, Sederis had refused to return. “It means the world that you braved the perilous journey here, behind enemy lines.”

“If you think I came here to pay my respects, I’m afraid you are sorely mistaken,” Zarannis stated coldly. She didn’t particularly dislike the man, though they had a difference in opinion about many things. But she didn’t believe in mourning.

“Yet you stare at him, unmoving,” she knew it was Solendis Emberheart. She could tell he was circling her. “I’d wager that you were.”

“At his body. Not him. This was his prison, of responsibilities he was forced to carry, and of promises he could not keep. Respect has nothing to do with it.” Zarannis turned at last to the Steward of the Emberglades. “At his body,” she repeated. “And Zin’jang.”

“Our family’s weapon.”

“His weapon. Your family took it in as a trophy- a symbol of the blood it took you to win these lands off the Amani. Sederis took it back to bridge the gap between divided traditions. He reforged it into his own,” Zarannis turned back to the spear, and the body that clutched it tight to his chest.

“What will be done with it?” She asked.

“He will hold it until this war is over. Once it is, we will bury it with him in the family mausoleum. There it will stay until Stenden is old enough to claim his birthright.”

“If he becomes old enough to claim his birthright,” Zarannis corrected. “You know full well, with the soldiers of the Heartlands obliterated, and the loyalists of the Broken Bulwark destroyed. No one will come to your aid. Lord Ilithia and the whole of Westheath will be at your throat the moment this war is over.”

“We still have House Goodember and Wintergale.”

“Neilio Goodember will support the highest bidder. How much gold will you have left in your coffers after this war is over?” Zarannis began pacing, orbiting Solendis now. “And House Wintergale? My father has wanted independence for generations. This would be the best opportunity to achieve it.”

Solendis swallowed hard. “Arenias will come for you after he’s done with us. There is merit in supporting your Lord.”

Zarannis laughed, deep and rich as if there was true humor to be found. “Tell that to my father. You forget I’ve been disowned.”

“Why is it do you think I’ve called you here,” Solendis shot her a look that stopped the Far Strider in her tracks. “The Emberglades needs a Warden, Zarannis.”

“And I’m your third candidate?”

“First.” “Times must be truly desperate indeed,” Zarannis smirked. “For you to think that a member of disgraced nobility is a worthy fit.”

“Dorrence Tar’saren was lowborn soldier-turned-Lord of the Broken Bulwark. Sederis was a runaway mercenary captain-turned-Lord of the Emberglades. Worthy fits are few and far between in these lands,” Solendis stepped towards her. “You are distinguished Far Strider of Lodge Kestrel. You have protected Quel’thalas for centuries. You have kept the Cloudrend Glades safe-”

“Secure,” she corrected. “I hope this war has taught you that no one is truly ever safe.”

“It has, which is why we need a Warden.”

“A Warden of a sinking ship.”

“A Warden, of Stenden Emberheart, Lord of the Emberglades. The recognized ruler by the Crown.”

“Until Arenias takes that title for himself,” Zarannis quipped. “And you assume that there’ll even be a crown after this.”

“A Warden of the Emberglades, Lady of the Broken Bulwark, and bearer of Zin’jang,” Solendis raised his voice, stating all that he had on the table. All she needed to do was collect. “Keep your family name, make a new one, that is your prerogative. But you will be given everything we have lost and more.”

“And swear my life away- Throw my life away in a future war for a pile of ruins and a stolen relic? You offer things you have no ownership over.”

“What would you have me do then!? Let my family die?” Solendis yelled, a phenomenon that has been witnessed before or since that moment. “When Arenias comes for us, we’re going to be strung up on the walls of this very courtyard and I won’t have it! But I’m not a great warrior or a charismatic general. I’m a man with a mouth and a birthright, nothing more. I can’t save my family. I was hoping- no- I am begging that you do.”

His outburst caught her off guard. She had known him as the ever calculating, ever scheming spymaster of his brother’s regime. This was probably part of his game- but not under the pretense of some scheme. This game he played was closer to home, with personal stakes that were closer to him than the man was comfortable with.

“Begging does not suit you,” she said, walking up to the embalmed body in the center of the courtyard. She thought of Illsei, her sister, next in line of House Wintergale. She thought of Rendra the brat of a brother, and of Ameli, who still refused to wear dresses. Zarannis loved them all. Fiercely. She’d do anything for them. Kill for them. Die for them. She felt for the man.

Zarannis shook her head. “I appreciate the offer. But I have got a war to win.”

Solendis hadn’t the strength to save his family. But neither did she. Already upon her shoulders were the lives of the surviving Kestrels. The Tal’dorei who exiled themselves for her. Waywatchers from Emberlight. Oathsworn of the Sunguard.

She would not bear anymore. Not if she could help it.

Just a girl.

I am just a girl.

Not a Farstrider, not a General, and not a pawn of Solendis’ schemes. Just a girl.

Zarannis stared at the corpse of the man she had once known. At last beginning to understand the weight that he had carried upon his shoulders. How a thousand lives could be only a word away from death.

She thought of the war. She thought of her mistakes. Of Honor. Of Naivety. Of promises that she could not keep and people she could not save. But what she regretted most of all, wasn’t the things she had done.

It was the things she hadn’t.

Art by Harris Clook

@retributionpriest @stormandozone @thanidiel @curiouslich @esheyn @cynfuldax @thenaaru @forever-afk @felthier @azriah @sonofkhaz @korkrunchcereal

#Epilogue #Funerals #Zarannis #Sederis

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ragewerthers · 5 years ago

Text

Meet Me On The Battlefield

Summary: Cor watched as black smoke billowed up toward the sky, a signal to all that the wall had fallen, the King had fallen, Insomnia… had fallen.

A/n: This was my submission to @kingsglaivezine and it was absolutely wonderful getting to write a piece for Cor!

You can find this work on AO3 at: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21214703

Enjoy! :D

Word Count: 1427

---------------------------------- Cor watched as black smoke billowed up toward the sky, a signal to all that the wall had fallen, the King had fallen, Insomnia… had fallen.

MT ships still lingered overhead, lording over the ruined city like a feral beast staking its claim over a recent kill. It was sickening to realize just how true to form the symbolism was, but this was one beast he couldn’t take down on his own.

Taking a deep breath to steel his resolve he looked down to the phone in his hand.

Regis had known that something was going to befall them all. It’s why he’d put Cor outside the wall even though he should’ve been nearby even with these talks of “peace”, why Regis had made sure that his tasks were far away from the epicenter of the chaos.

He’d been a soldier following orders. He’d sworn his loyalty to the Crown and he’d not faltered in his promise to do whatever his King asked of him. But that did little to assuage the guilt of leaving his brothers to fight a losing battle.

Regardless of the fall, intel was still moving back and forth to those who had been outside the city. The betrayal hadn’t just arrived on a ship from Niflheim. It had been deeper, hidden amongst those meant to serve the King. It was easy to let anger want to seep into hi s bones and take over. Let rage be what drove him now to battle the feelings warring in his chest, but it would do no good.

He would get his answers soon enough, but for now he had a job to do.

Drawn from his thoughts he felt his phone buzzing in his hand and glanced down, closing his eyes as a familiar name came across the caller I.D.

Taking a deep breath he hit answer, bringing the phone up to his ear as he turned his eyes away from the carnage and made his way toward Hammerhead.

“So, you made it.”

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

Even without the sun, the sweltering heat of Lestallum was still borderline oppressive. Though what was a little sweat when compared to the encroaching darkness and daemons that threatened to overtake the world?

Cor moved easily through the once bustling city streets, now quiet with fear and uncertainty. Where there had once been a liveliness that drew all from near and far, now it was the promise of safety that brought in the people. However, one unspoken question always seemed to linger…

What would tomorrow bring?

It had been years since Noctis’s disappearance. However, it had been foretold that the True King would return and rend the darkness from this world. Of this he never lost faith and now he fought to ensure that there was still a world worth saving.

After the fall of Insomnia, when betrayal had still stung deeply in his heart he had gone forth and found the answers he’d been looking for.

Drautos, the turning of the Kingsglaive… it all had been a tough pill to swallow. Knowing that the magic and power the king had imbued within them had been used to bring about his downfall, and all for the promise of a better tomorrow that would never come for them, left him with a hollowness in his chest he had never known before.

But… where there had been betrayal there had also been loyalty. Not all who had been tasked with protecting had let their hearts be warped with darkness.

There were still those ready to fight for the land they had loved. Those that wanted to ensure that there was still safety to be found, a light to strive for, a home to one day return to.

Coming to Lestallum he had managed to connect and reforge old loyalties. Hunters, Crownsguard and Kingsglaive now all united under one promise. To answer the unspoken question of what tomorrow would bring.

A new day and a new dawn.

“Marshal, we’re ready to go when you are,” a young recruit supplied as the man made his way to the waiting trucks just inside of Lestallums walls. Now as leader of the Kingsglaive, Cor knew where his duty lie. That the promise of a better tomorrow started with actions taken today.

The Immortal glanced at the vehicles filled with supplies and glaives all ready to return to the city where they had all lost a part of themselves, ready to atone for the sins of the past and find the redemption they longed for.

“Then move out. We head for Insomnia,” he ordered, voice carrying out and quieting the conversations being held in the ranks. “We will not falter. We will move forward and we will ensure that when the True King returns we are ready to aid him to reclaim what we lost.”

The plans had been laid out months in advance. To create a base just outside the Citadel. A point of access for Noctis to get a foothold in to advance through the barriers he’d face.

Heading for the lead truck Cor turned once more before entering, his fist raised to his chest as he looked over the men and women ready to fight for what they believed in.

“For Hearth!”

“And home!”

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

Billowing black smoke once again filled the skies over Insomnia, but now he was no longer a mere onlooker.

Now he could do something.

As soon as the fighting started he and the remaining Glaives had made their way back up from the underground base, ready to stand and fight. Upon emerging it was as if the daemons had multiplied by the thousands. Red Giants, Naga’s, Tarantula’s, every creature of their darkest nightmares now came to try and destroy the last vestiges of hope they had all clung onto for so long.

Wrenching his sword free from the dissolving black sludge of a Naga, Cor turned his head to the commotion coming from nearer to the Citadel. His eyes instantly focusing on the flashes of red fire and blue warps that rose into the sky.

Noctis.

With a few shouted orders to the glaives he took off toward the chaos, heart hammering in his chest as he rushed to ensure that the boy he’d watched grow up, the young man he’d promised to protect and the King he’d vowed to serve was able to move forward regardless of the price he himself would have to pay.

Rounding the corner he saw a giant hellhound reared back on its haunches, fire swirling and building within its chest, ready to lay waste to the men trapped in front of it. Without a second thought the war hardened soldier charged forward, bringing his sword down across one of it’s three necks and earning them a bit more time.

“Mind if this old soldier joins you?” he asked, taking his guard in front of the True King, the others readying themselves as the final push toward the Citadel began.

All the rage, the anger, the guilt he had bore for years he was now finally unable to unleash on this beast that stood before them. Each strike was like some small payback for Clarus, for Regis and for those that had been thrust into this unending night.

With their combined efforts it wasn’t long before the beast fell, but Cor felt the blood run cold in his veins as he watched it lift its head for one last attack.

Without thinking he stepped forward, moving between the hound and Noctis, the hellfire meant to destroy the King of Light hitting the Immortal and dropping him to his knees in a flurry of pain.

He could hear their voices, hear the shouts of his name as the cold seeped into him from where he knelt on the ground.

He had failed them all once before, but this was his atonement. This was where he made his stand to right the wrongs that had befallen those he held close in his heart.

Looking up he saw Noctis knelt before him and even as the pain radiated through his chest he couldn’t help the smile that found its way to his lips, seeing the King the young Prince had grown up to become.

This is what they had all been fighting for and now the time drew ny where a new dawn could emerge.

“It has been… the highest honour… to serve the two finest kings… Lucis has ever known,” he rasped, reaching forward to take Nocts hand in his own.

“Perhaps we’ll meet again… at day break.”

#ffxv #cor leonis #kingsglaivezine #the immortal deserves so much!#my fics

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genjispeaks · 5 years ago

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Given the choice to relieve the experience but with your current knowledge, would you handle anything about the fateful encounter with your brother differently? If so, what?

I think... in all honesty... our paths then were already set in stone. If I wanted to fix it, I would have to go back in time much further than that. Sometimes I wonder... I wonder if the only way to prevent all this from happening would be for me to not be born at all. I don’t think I could force myself to conform, to - to live a life less contrary to my brother’s, to the clan, and ultimately those were the differences that resulted in that conflict.

If I could change something about it, knowing what I know now... I wouldn’t fight back. I did not deserve what he did to me but it was inevitable, like turning a page in a story. It was how I left my own path of self-destruction, and was created anew in spirit as a result of the reforging of my very body. This would have never happened without Hanzo’s... intervention. On the other hand, his guilt might be even stronger had I simply taken his punishment. I don’t think he would have killed me even if I’d given him a clear shot... I don’t think he’s capable of it. But I hate to think he would carry even more pain for what was inevitable for us.

Ah, I do wish we’d been born different. That our circumstances had been different... I would have loved nothing better than to just be his little brother, instead of being the second in line to inherit our dynasty. Instead of seeing him molded to be the first in line, and have the elders suffocate the man he might have otherwise grown into, if he’d been given the chance.

I think about my brother often, and I miss him. At the same time, letting go of the anger and pain I still feel - it is not easy. Nothing between us has ever been.

#saravaw #mail

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fanesavin · 6 years ago

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Evidence is presented and justice is served... or is it?

@bumblingbrujo @faye-andrews @xxtuaharjunaxx @ianncardero @ephrampettaline @thisbrutalbelle @danisavin @scarlettxruby

Tuah made his way towards the Dawnguard headquarters, strolling through the hallways as if he still belonged. His confidante followed closely behind him, a constant shadow and protector that he trusted implicitly. Once he arrived at Fane’s office, he watched Fane for a moment before making his presence known. “Care for a break from your work?” he asked, his quiet voice gentle, his smile mirroring his tone.

Fane was sat by the window, his eyes fixed on some distant point across the city. He’d needed some time away from the Quiver and this was the only place that came to mind where he might find some sense of solace. He heard the approach of someone, not that it really mattered anymore. But Tuah’s voice echoing across the office caused Fane to tense fractionally. “This work never leaves me, and I doubt it ever will.”

Tuah watched as Fane shifted from where he stood by the window, the lighting that permeated through the window framed the Inquisitor’s body beautifully and casting shadows on the floor. Tuah couldn’t help but smile as he entered the room and joined Fane by the window. His confidante silently closed the door behind him, guarding the door and let the two have their conversation in private. “That does not mean that you’re not allowed to have a breather every once and awhile.” He turned to face Fane, the gentle smile that he reserved for his friend painted his lips. “If you need someone to vent, you know you can confide in me.” At least it would ease Fane’s burden as the inquisitor, if nothing else, to have someone that he could confide in, other than those who had been heavily involved in the investigation.

Fane couldn’t bring himself to match his friend’s cheer, he shifted, crossing his arms over his chest. “Perhaps once this is all said and done,” he allowed but had a feeling that the guilt of this job would stay with him long after whatever happened came to be. “Let me ask you a question and answer me truthfully, if you could usher in a new age of peace to these weary lands, bring an end to the wars but… all that came at the cost of a innocent man’s reputation and perhaps see only justice partially served, would you take that chance?” He didn’t elaborate, nor did he turn but continued to watch citizens mill about the street below.

Tuah hummed, turning his gaze towards the city as he contemplated the other’s question. “The good of many outweighs the good of one man,” he recited, shifted his weight on his feet and resting his hand on the pommel of his sword, “a king must choose the best path for his people, even if it sacrifice a man’s innocence if it means he can maintain peace.” He turned his gaze towards Fane, a knowing smile on his lips. “It is heavy to carry the burden, isn’t it?”

Fane huffed at his friend’s vague answer but equally knew precisely what it was that Tuah was saying in that veiled tongue. “I’m no king,” he countered evenly “and a part of me would rather see the ramparts stained red than sentence an innocent man to a punishment he doesn’t deserve.” There was a weighted silence that followed the claim, and yet it was no less true. “An innocent man suffers and the killer continues to walk free to further their plans. How is that the world we live in? What kind of world can be built from that foundation?”

“No, but you are the Inquisitor to the High Raj, and right now, that weighs more than a king of some small nation.” Tuah shifted his gaze to the city once more, his face sombre as he contemplated Fane’s concern further. “A peaceful nation has always been built by the blood of the innocents, Lord Savin,” he pointed out, “one more innocent man would not make a difference. Would you rather stain your hand with the blood of many, or the blood of one, would be the question here.”

Fane grimaced, knowing that unfortunately it was true whether he wished it to be or not. He offered no answer to Tuah’s question about which he would prefer. “I want no more part in this… These games and betrayal. Equally, I’m not sure I wish to be shackled as these treaties would entail… We did not fight in their wars, why should we submit to the whims of people who would rather poison one another so that they might have the chance to sit on a throne– an ugly one at that.”

Tuah could only gave the other sympathetic smile, letting Fane venting out his frustration. Unlike Fane, he had the privilege to sit out most of the squabbles between the nobbles, allowing him to witness while not getting involved himself unless he decided to. Fane was thrust into the heart of it all unceremoniously, and found himself too entangled to be able to let himself out without consequences. His heart was far too kind to be meddled with the games that the nobles played. It was one of the qualities that he liked about the Inquisitor, and why he chose to be his friend. “Perhaps this peace that we hope for is still too far away from our reach,” Tuah lamented quietly, feeling his hope crumbling as he faced with such reality. “It’s a shame, really. If everyone had put aside their differences for once, there is much to be gain from this union.”

Fane held his arms across his chest. “Aye, perhaps it is.” Who could say? Unfortunately, they would have to see what the outcome would be. He glanced at his friend expression drawn and sombre as it had been increasingly of late. “I suppose we’ve postponed long enough, the Quiver hall no doubt summons us.”

Tuah nodded. “I suppose there’s no delaying the inevitable.” He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, turning on his heel and walked out of the room, waiting for the Inquisitor to join him.

Faye was already sat in her designated place in the hall. It had all come down to this, hadn’t it? Presentation of the efforts of so many, because of the evil and greed of one person. But would it really matter? Would it really make a difference? Would there really be peace and justice together? Or would one weigh out, and the other be discarded? Faye didn’t know. She had done her small part, and once it was finished, that was it.

Fane walked with Tuah to the castle, a detour being made to collect the crown. The offending item hung loosely from his fingertips and he rather unceremoniously dropped the offending item onto the table with a dull metallic clang. He moved to take a seat slouching back his chin resting on the knuckles of one hand, the same elbow propped on the thick wooden armrest while his thumb idly rubbed at a few of the new grey bristles in his beard.

It was time. Woken from her sleep in the early hours of the new day, the priestess had felt the presence of her lord. He had spoken to her, his voice a bright flame in her chest, brightening her eyes with the light of the eternal fire that burned within him. That burned within all who followed him. The priestess was no different. So she rose, dressed, said her prayers to the rising of the sun, and made her way to the Great Hall.

Iann felt an air of excitement, and some trepidation. But he didn’t show any of it, seated where he was. He watched the Inquisitor release the crown heavily and loudly - such poetry in the motion - and rubbed his own beard, knowing what was finally come to pass. If Savin heeded his advice, this would all be over, and soon. Iann felt it in his bones, like he could feel a morning squall on the ocean.

Tuah took his seat and leaned back against the chair, watching the empty seats being filled by other nobilities. He couldn’t help but wonder who it was that Fane had referred to in their conversation, speculating on his own who the black sheep would be. His focus and concern was more towards the Lord Inquisitor, as he was sure everyone else’s. As a king, he wanted the Inquisitor to choose what was best for the people, even if it meant sacrificing an innocent man. But as his friend, Tuah wanted Fane to choose what is best for him, even when it would mean spilling more blood than it already had.

Faye looked at Fane as he sat heavily in his seat. She looked at the crown as it fell heavily to the table. She looked around at the assembled, seeing the expressions - some dour, some unreadable - on their faces. The air literally trembled with anticipation.

Bella stepped into the Quiver quietly, finding a place for herself in any available seat as it seemed something was happening.

Fane stoically chose not to meet anyone’s eye, he could feel different gazes resting on him but equally looking at people was the last thing he wished to do right now. Especially with Iann sat across from him his thumb worried at his jaw slow brushes as he waited for nobles to settle.

The Red Priestess found her place where she had been before, along the wall where the representatives of the Cloverry would normally sit. She looked around the assembled, noting a few obvious absences, but turned her attentions to the Lord Inquisitor for now.

Miguel stayed at the edge of the room. His head was clear, and he was ready to sail.

Fane finally let his hand fall away from his chin and lifted his head to study those assembled with dark brown eyes “several days ago I was charged with investigating the death of the High Raj as you are all aware. I have done so to the best of my capacity with equal degrees of help and hindrance from many of you here.” He drew himself up in his seat, “several months ago now the cloverry chose Avitej Sharma to become the new High Raj of this realm, charging him with unifying our kingdoms into one. His crown was chosen from the treasury, before it was taken to a blacksmith here in the Capitol to be reforged.”

“I have spoken to the blacksmith charged with fashioning its fixing and confirmed the rig… Which you can all see here,” Fane gave a tilt of his chin to the crown in question “containing the venom was not present prior to its departure on the tour… And so my investigation began, the tour was clearly the most obvious point of strategic weakness for it to be tampered with clearly, and I’ve worked to confirm that this crown, used in the ceremony, was not the same one that left the Capitol at the beginning of its tour of the kingdoms.”

So far, Faye knew about what Fane was saying. That the crown had been tampered with, that much was certain. But to hear that it wasn’t the same crown at all, that was news.

Iann leaned forward with some interest. He hadn’t looked at the crown up close, given that he’d have no insight to offer about it. But seeing the clever little device, it was certainly cunning. And it also created a dramatic end as well. Such contrast done with such purpose.

Tuah laced his fingers together as he listened to the Inquisitor, his gaze following his gesture towards the crown. He couldn’t help but bitterly applaud the ingenuity of its design, for such clever tampering had caused the tenuous hope that the people had be crushed in an instant.

Bella rose her eyes to view the crown, not having seen it before like most there. Nothing so far seemed to point it in the direction of any one person.

“We know the crown on its tour went to and stayed longest in Blackspire, Summerset, the Kesleylands and Hathurana. It also had brief stays in Honeywild, the High Peninsula and the Eades… But in two of these locations I’ve come to learn the Captains left the crown unguarded… That was in Summerset and the Kesleylands.“ Fane paused briefly before continuing, "as I’m sure many of you are aware, House Kesley have made quite a reputation for themselves lately but their antics have been clumsy and heavy handed. A kidnapping attempt one one noble and an assault on one of the members in this room? A part of me wishes I’d had the opportunity to speak with Lord Kesley before his death… Which happened under equally suspicious circumstances… Perhaps tracks being covered?” There was an addendum he wished he could add then, but unfortunately he could not and when he continued his tongue felt leaden. “That I could not say but regardless… The person that designed this scheme and executed it was cunning, patient and calculated…”

Ephram, seated unobtrusively among the other nobles, wondered to himself if talking was allowed at this meeting. He supposed he’d either find out if somebody else voiced a question, or if his own need to speak urged him on first, once the Inquisitor had said his piece.

Iann turned only slightly, and looked over at Miguel as the Inquisitor sketched out an idea of the type of person who might design such a nefarious device.

Miguel kept his arms crossed and his face impassive. It didn’t matter who was found guilty, Miguel had contingency plans. His contingency plans had contingency plans.

Tuah furrowed his brows together, his lips pressed into a thin line. That didn’t narrow down the people that the Inquisitor was suspicious of. All of them was capable of such doings, himself included. Though he must admit some did better than others, having played the game for so long. “Do you have your suspects, Lord Inquisitor?” Tuah spoke first, wanting to get to the bottom of this as soon as possible.

Ephram stirred in his seat. “Are there any from House Kesley left in the Capital?” He looked around at the assembled gathering. “None represented here, I don’t think …”

“From what I know, Kesley is dead, all of them. The last of their House was here…their Keep is currently looked after by their ward, the title will not fall to him.” Iann looked over at the Inquisitor for confirmation, but this was what Iann had recently heard.

Fane shook his head to the question. “The Prince is right, none that know or mean anything of importance, the last remaining member of the family was found with his throat slit in the dungeons after his attempted coup a few days ago.”

The passing of another once great House. The priestess felt a sense of loss for the kingdom. Despite it’s slow crumble into ruin and madness, House Kesley was an old name. May it’s beginning be remembered better than it’s end.

Fane curled his fingers a little at Tuah’s mention of suspects. “We’ll get to that, I think the evidence lends itself to the reasoning.” Seeing no other questions posed he shifted back in his seat once more. “The crown was swapped in Summerset,” he said simply “the Forty Isles Captain confirmed this under interrogation. The man was bribed with forty isles coin to leave the crown while the other Captain was diverted with a distraction… He took the bribe from loyalty as the person responsible for paying him implied the work was for the Queen’s Consort Juan Carlos… The Captain managed to find a way take his life in captivity before we had a chance to question him further…”

How convenient, Tuah thought bitterly, that the house that had made such a ruckus in the first place had been murdered. The dead cannot defend themselves when stand accused by the living “And there is no confirmation as to who murdered him, I assume?”

His eyes widened then. Juan Carlos? Did Miguel’s machinations run that deep, that he would send the most guileless brother into this? He wanted to reach behind him and throttle Miguel for this injustice, but Iann held his tongue. It was clear he was agitated, deeply. “What? Impossible. It is not our brother.”

Faye looked towards the Grand Lady of Summerset, and then Iann and Miguel, frowning deeply.

Miguel’s own eyebrows raised. Juan Carlos was busy, always working to make things better. Or at least the Cloverry’s version of better. He was a holy and moral man - there wasn’t a drop of deception in his veins.

The Red Priestess also frowned, but made no move to speak. The information was… interesting. She blinked, eyes narrowing slightly as she watched the unfolding conversation.

Ephram pursed his mouth, feeling a little rill of pleasure in seeing King Iann so unsettled. For once. “If it’s not your brother, Highness, that sets the deed on you. Or Prince Miguel. But likely you.”

Tuah turned his attention towards the Grand Lady in question, the murmuring of the restless crowd grew as the names were finally dropped. He turned his attention towards King Cardero. He glared daggers towards Lord Pettaline for throwing such accusation, before shifting his focus on the king, trying to set a neutral expression on his face when he addressed the other, “Do you have any proof to counter the Lord Inquisitor’s claim, your Highness?”

Ephram shrugged at Tuah’s glare, not even really aware of who the man was. At this point in the proceedings, Ephram had lost any ability or desire to defer to nobles who thought they were morally superior to everyone else.

Fane grew quiet seeming to consider his options at Tuah’s question. But equally knew he could not sit by and let some information slip by, “Grand Lady Cassandra was the last person known to enter the dungeons prior to Lord Kesley’s death. She lied to gain access claiming to be working for me, her reasons for going to see him prior to his body being found, however, I know not.” Fane turned his attention to the dissent breaking out, and glowered at the minor Lord “Lord Pettaline, you’d best catch that tongue lest it end up getting you in trouble. You may be welcome to a seat at this table but your contribution offers little but yet more discord which I do not appreciate.”

Ephram threw up his hands. “Discord! What is the obsession with characterizing any open discussion as brawling or discord? King Iann pressed the matter, Inquisitor, I was merely speaking to it further.”

Fane narrowed his eyes at the man, “the last I checked accusations are not speaking on a matter further.”

Ephram scowled. “I meant no hard accusation,” he allowed grudgingly. “Perhaps my manner of speaking isn’t as fine as to convey that properly.”

Iann smiled smugly as the little Lord was taken down, but it didn’t last long, because he was suddenly realizing what Savin’s evidence was pointing towards. His face paled, and he looked over at Miguel again. He knew the Inquisitor’s evidence was irrefutable, which only seemed to mean…no. Of all the people who could possibly be accused for this…no. “Lord Ephram has a point, although I appreciate your authority on the matter, Inquisitor.” Iann gave Fane a heavy look, then stood up. “The Carderos and Sharma’s have always warred, and the Forty Isles has reasons against our once High Raj.” Iann thought about Grand Lady Cassandra - but more importantly, he thought about that precious, innocent little Princess Adeline. He knew Cassandra would do anything for that child. Anything, to save her own crumbling land from eventually being annexed into a Forty Isles mainland holding. “I’ve held my tongue long enough. Would you like to hear our confession?” Iann looked over to Miguel. “We’re ready to give it, are we not, brother?”

Fane looked across the table as Iann spoke, Lord Pettaline’s grievances temporarily forgotten. His eyes thinned, but ultimately knew that the only chance peace might be brokered was this not that it mattered ultimately. There was no helping the sickening feeling sitting in his gut as his eldest friend rose to his feet.

Faye nearly stood stood as a look was exchanged between Iann and Fane. She looked between them both, but back at Fane in the end. The Honeywild’s petty squabbling forgotten, Faye looked at Fane as if he had grown two heads.

The Red Priestess did not abide by the rules of court. She /did/ stand. Hands falling to her sides, she took steps towards the table, eyes lit on the accused, and on the ones about to take the fall.

Fane made a small gesture for Iann to speak if he wished. He felt Faye’s eyes on him like hot coals but chose not to look in her direction.

Iann was… quick. But Miguel was always a step behind him. No, he couldn’t let the Inquisitor accuse Cassandra. He would be a dead man if she did. And Adeline would be out a mother. That wasn’t something he would wish on her, not if Lilo and Iann were the only ones around to take care of Summerset and the Forty Isles - with Adeline so young. So Miguel nodded along. “Right.” He stepped up, behind Iann, at his back, ready to agree with whatever he said to protect Cassandra.

Despite his moseying along that trail of suspicion only a few moments earlier, Ephram was in truth as shocked as anybody else by King Iann’s confession. And even more so by Prince Miguel’s stepping up to take his blame, dammit. That meant one major alliance he’d worked to procure was rendered void and worthless. At least he’d still have the Lady of Sommerset on his side.

“I’m now the King of the Forty Isles,” Iann started, but then paused when he saw Miguel stepping up by his side. If Iann was surprised, he didn’t let it show (he was surprised, but god, his little brother was a clever little one). “I planned the High Raj’s demise, as I knew my father’s demise was near. Good timing, I should say. My brother here of course is adept with venoms and the like - he’s been very useful at orchestrating the…little details. He’s always been very good at little details.” Iann looked at Miguel for a long moment, before he continued to address the Quiver. “But the Forty Isles could not have a Sharma on the Sunlit Throne. He would always be a Sharma, and although he looked like the path to peace, I’m afraid our Forty Isles is far too powerful for the comfort of a High Raj from his House. Something had to be done, and it was. You cannot kill the King of the Forty Isles, I’m afraid. What would you propose, Iniquisitor, would be a rightful punishment? I understand that I must be put under some judgement, to appease the commonfolk of the realm. So long as you allow me to take my brother back ot the Forty Isles with me, because a little Prince -” Iann clapped his hand on Miguel’s shoulder, hard and firm. “- needs to be held accountable to his people, and to yours.”

Miguel took a deep breath. The pat on the shoulder was what did it. Iann could have easily left him to the dogs of the mainland to deal with, but he didn’t - he wanted to take Miguel with him. Though maybe what Iann had in mind for his little brother was worse than what the dogs of the mainland could think of. Iann was nothing if not creative. Still, Miguel pet one hand on Iann’s shoulder, a silent show of solidarity.

When Miguel touched his hand, Iann realized that despite everything - how duplicitous and conniving Miguel could be - that they stood united on two fronts. The pride of the Forty Isles, and the protection of the Queen of Summerset, and her family. Iann wanted to shut his eyes and sigh. If only they could’ve have been united on other fronts as well. The Forty Isles was formidable enough with them separated…if they had ever truly thought to work together? They could have taken over the known world.

Tuah refrained himself from rolling his eyes to the back of his skull when what assumed to be another argument about to break. He did take a deep breath and let it out slowly before addressing Lord Pettaline. But before he could do so, King Cardero stood and addressed the assembly. Tuah held his tongue then, looking between House Cardero and the Inquisitor, trying to confirm his suspicion. That House Cardero would take the fall for the murder of the High Raj. Tuah couldn’t help but wonder what sort of game that House Cardero was playing, if there was any hidden scheme underneath the confession. The silence that followed King Cardero’s confession was deafening, suffocating. “What say you, Lord Inquisitor?” Tuah turned towards the man in question. “Do you accept the confession? Or do you have other claim to present to the Quiver?”

Danian their gut tighten when Iann stood to give a confession. Fane’s evidence was solid, but it was the last piece that felt the most damning to the younger lord. For Queen Cassandra to have *personally* been the last person seen prior to Lord Kesley being found dead, and to lie for entrance… there was no affiliation with the Forty Isles there. “Your Majesty,” Danian looked coolly across at Iann from their seat beside Lord Savin, “Your son is a ward under Blackspire’s care. For that, I must ask you– assuming your confession is true, was he at all aware of these plans while the crown made its stay in Lord Savin’s keep?”

Iann looked calmly back at Lord Lovel. “Why would a confession be a lie? It’s a shameful and dishonourable thing, regicide,” Iann said first. “My children are all innocent. It seems they are as honest as their grandparents and their Uncle Juan Carlos.” He looked at Miguel, fearful for a moment at his little brother’s plans. Get in with Lord Lovel, who was so closely attached to Buttercup. If Miguel had a plan there, that plan frightened Iann for the safety of his son. There was no way now that Danian would ever lose their loyalty towards Miguel, the Threepenny Prince had sealed that fate well. “I’m afraid all the sinister aspects of our family fell onto us, little brother.”

Miguel’s biggest regret spoke up and Miguel’s blood ran cold. They didn’t even speak to him. They spoke to Iann, asking him about his son. Miguel took a deep breath to clear his head, and then he shook it. “No, Lord Danian. All the duplicity in our family has fallen on the book ends. Iann and I are the only ones who knew of this until now.”

Ephram groaned, sliding down slightly in his chair and covering his face with one hand as Miguel duly embraced his guilt with both arms.

Fane felt the tension in his muscles as he sat at the table his back ramrod straight and face a mask of neutrality as Iann spun his tale. A convincing one at that, he always had been good with words. Only for Miguel to back it up, the change in their dynamic was subtle, yet Fane noticed it regardless. That unity, to protect the one thing that mattered. Family, but then they would, wouldn’t they? They loved their brother and their niece, even the person Fane suspected had orchestrated this whole thing. A long silence fell across the audience room, and Fane was only stirred from his stillness at Tuah’s prompt. He looked at Iann and Miguel. “Then I exile you both, for the murder of the High Raj… You shall return to your homeland where you will spend the rest of your days and be subject to the punishment of the Forty Isles for your crimes” he looked back to Iann, “your son shall as such remain my ward and charge to ensure this remains the case.”

#got au #got scene

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