#i think i've mentioned this in the tags of another post but the Council did NOT want him finding out about the prophecy | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

pentechnics · 3 years

Text

Part 1 of A Strange Duet

Assassin!Din x Princess!Reader

Rating: M

Summary: You are a princess, next in line for Sorgan’s throne, and an assassin is sent to kill you. Not just any assassin, though: a Mandalorian. The best of the best. They never miss a mark.

Especially not Din Djarin.

The job? Do away with you before your coronation takes place. Child’s play to someone of his experience. He masquerades as a worker in the castle to try and get to you.

But then the most unexpected development occurs. One that threatens his mission, his nation, and his life.

The one thing that an assassin is never meant to do.

He starts to fall in love with his target.

Series Content: medieval-ish AU, assassin!Din, princess!reader, fluff, slow burn, sexual tension, falling in love, angst, mentions of injuries/scars, depictions of violence, usage of weapons, Din's POV and reader's POV, side character death (of OCs; no SW characters will die)

Notes: I don't think I've ever been so impatient with myself. I have been DYING to post this; I had the idea a while back and actually sat down to write it recently, and my GOODNESS. All the usual things that happen with a new fic happened all at once and I had no idea what to do with myself: the onslaught of ideas, thinking through the order of events/plot shit, playlist creation, skipping ahead to write the scenes I couldn't stop thinking about -- it was so much at once!

With that in mind, this is going to differ from my other multi-chapter fics. It's gonna be less structured. So I'm sorry if it ends up being a bit messy/chapters end up being shorter because of that lol but I hope you'll read along and enjoy anyway! And as always this chapter's kinda all over because I wanted to get all the setup out of the way here so we can just jump in going forward! Please let me know if you have questions!

Let me know what you think/if you'd like to be tagged for future parts! Thank you all so much! ❤️

Chapter content: stabbing

~~~~

“She presents many challenges, Your Majesty. This must be taken care of before it causes the very downfall of Mandalore itself.”

The war room was dark, save for a single light above the large, oval table, its glow bouncing off the various figures surrounding it, each of them covered in armor from head to toe. The Queen’s best generals and admirals lined the seats leading to where she sat at the head.

“General Kryze,” she began, “I have no doubt that your intel is legitimate. What I need are answers. Solutions.”

Her tone was smooth and even, but urgent. The light bounced against her golden helmet as she moved her head. General Kryze turned to the war room’s door.

There stood two guardsmen to whom she nodded. One of them returned the gesture and left the room.

“Your Majesty, I present a plan that is sure to rid us of these concerns.”

A moment later the doors opened once more, the guardsman joined by another Mandalorian, fully clad in silver steel. Its brilliant sheen was blinding, almost an entire light source on its own.

The Queen sat up in her chair.

“Are you suggesting what I think, General?”

Kryze nodded.

“You did train him yourself, Your Majesty.”

The Queen looked back at the silver Mandalorian with a nod of her head.

“Have a seat, Din Djarin.”

~~~~

You sighed as you took a seat next to your mother, the Queen of Sorgan, after another long day.

Evening tea with her was your favorite time of day; it symbolized the end of social interaction and formalities, lengthy lectures from the Queen’s council, and other such preparations for the succession. You were no doubt ready to be Queen, more than happy to step up to the plate, but the work it took to get there was thorough and exhaustive.

Especially since the latest attempts on your life.

There had been several since you made your plans for the nation public. You had support from the majority of Sorgan’s citizens, yet many still were turned off by your ideas. Your approaches included increased rights for lower-class citizens, more equal wealth distribution, and more peaceful relations with other nations. Rich landlords were much too happy with how their lives currently proceeded, and you posed a threat to their privilege. And other nations feared an uprising among their own citizens to demand similar treatment.

“You would hope people were more considerate of each other,” you said as you stirred a couple sugar cubes into the amber liquid. Your mother sighed.

“Yes, my dear. While we have more courteous subjects than most, not everyone is open to such drastic change.”

The two of you carried on, discussing what the first steps of your new implementations might look like. But your mind wandered away from the topic.

“Ma,” you started, “you raised me to do this, and I’m honored and willing, but it upsets me to think of your reign ending.”

You looked into her eyes, a weight settling itself on your heart. Your mother was in perfect health, not an ounce of frailness to her regal figure. But even then she decided to pass the throne onto you early in order to help you through your first years, rather than waiting until she could no longer provide her support.

She had always seemed so untouchable, so invincible to you. She was the only Queen you’d known, and the people of Sorgan loved her. You had been ignoring every warning siren of changing times, each one falling on deaf senses until now. She put her warm hand over yours on the table.

“Sweetheart, don't you worry. It’s nothing more than a title change. I’ll still be here to help you. And I will always be on your side.”

“Just as you’ve always been,” you said with a smile.

“What concerns me is all these attacks,” she said, her tone becoming more serious. You nodded.

“There have already been three in the last two weeks! Even Sir Fett doesn’t know what to make of it.”

“It’s okay, Ma,” you said while squeezing her hand. “We expected this type of backlash from other nations.”

“Still,” she stared deep into your eyes. “It’s only a matter of time before Mandalore itself sends someone. We’ll need to be extra vigilant.”

You stayed silent. She had a point.

As of yet no one had sent a Mandalorian to try killing you. They were expensive, and in high demand all over the world. But with the growing animosity between yourself and some other world leaders, including the Queen of Mandalore, you would not be surprised if one of them worked up the nerve.

“You’re not still sneaking off at night, are you? It’s much too dangerous now.”

You hated lying to her. But you also hated that you had to sneak out in order to feel like a regular person. You never went far, just to an archery range set up for training in the nearby forest. And you never went alone: a trusted group, hand-picked by you, never left your side. And your personal guard, Dame Fennec Shand, was among them. Your mother and this group were the only ones that knew about your little habit.

Your mother had been on board when you began doing it as a teen, seeing as it was the only thing keeping you sane under your father’s domestic tyranny. But that was some time ago now. Since then the excursions slowly morphed into a reprieve from everyday stressors.

“Don’t worry, Ma. I am perfectly safe and well-protected. I don’t leave unless it’s necessary.”

Not a complete lie. Sometimes feeling free was necessary. She sighed, the worry lines on her forehead disappearing.

“It’s not even about the crown, dear, I just can’t bear the thought of losing you.”

“You won’t,” you said quickly. “I promise Ma, I’m going to be just fine. No one’s taking me down without a fight.”

She smiled.

“I’m glad we sent for more staff,” she said, “it’ll be nice to have some more friendly faces around.”

You nodded. Along with more guards, the Queen had recently hired more stable hands, artisans, and other essential staff that would help ensure the palace’s entourage was fully equipped for any major attacks. The idea was exciting given that your normal visits to the citizens of Sorgan were cut down in the name of your safety. You hadn’t spoken to anyone outside the palace in months.

Yet at the same time, the idea that this type of fortification was necessary to protect you and your mother was terrifying.

Your mother must’ve seen the shift in your energy. She cupped your cheek in her hand and tilted your face up to look at her.

“It’ll be alright, my flower. Don’t you worry.”

You smiled and pulled her into an embrace.

“I love you, Ma.”

~~~~

The familiar sensation of steel squelching around flesh flew through Din’s arm, the sound now an insignificant buzz in his ears.

“It’s nothing personal,” he breathed, voice low and neutral. “It’s just a job.”

He cradled the man’s body as he sputtered and struggled for breath, until he fell limp and slumped to the ground below. Din straightened up and cleaned the blood off his dagger before re-sheathing it, looking down at the victim below: a lowly blacksmith from the outskirts of Sorgan who’d accepted a job working with the Queen. A job Din had to take from him to achieve his goal.

He strode over to his horse and retrieved a thick fabric, taking care when wrapping the body up before concealing it underneath a nearby brush.

Din continued down the country road on his trusted steed, details of the job assigned to him days prior fresh in his mind.

Get in, kill the princess, get out.

His life had always been filled with similar vagueness and urgency. He’d been raised by other assassins much more skilled than himself, yet as he grew, his skills had bested them all. All except the Queen herself.

That’s what Mandalore was famous for, after all. Greatest, cleanest, quietest assassins of any nation. They were hired all across the world to deal with the unsavory desires of the wealthy and greedy.

Not that they always resorted to such methods to keep their own power; their military was a formidable force all its own that has won its share of fair fights.

But this was no fight. This was damage prevention.

This had to be discreet. Quiet. Unseen. Professional. Impersonal.

Just like Din.

The target was not an easy one. But according to General Kryze and the Queen herself, even at the behest of Commander Vizla, Din was the best of the best. If anyone could fulfill this task, it was him.

The coronation was set to take place in one year; because of past failures by other assassins, this would need to be a longer process. Din would use this time to settle in and lay low until he could do the deed, stick around just long enough to avoid suspicion, then disappear while everyone was distracted with the aftermath.

And so he rode on through the twilight, scheduled to arrive at the capital city by daybreak, and make quick work of the progressive princess.

~~~~

The following morning, the palace was bristling with kinetic energy. The arrival of new faces stirred up every working person under that roof, including you and your mother.

After every new arrival met you both as a group in the Queen’s chamber that morning, they were divided into their respectful designations and started getting familiar with the rest of the staff. Over the course of the week, you were to visit each area of the palace that they worked in and have a more personal introduction, ensuring you knew every single new face that would be in proximity to you and have a hand in your protection.

Not only was this a precaution to ensure that outsiders could not gain entry to the palace, but it also served as a show of gratitude and respect for the work each staff member did. Too long had they gone without recognition, you always thought. When your father was still around, he never believed in giving such dignity to the people who worked firsthand to uplift his nation.

That attitude disgusted you. With your mother’s support you wasted no time changing that dynamic when your father passed.

Between meetings with the council and other succession procedures, you made time to visit the stables, the kitchen, and the armed guard. Later on in the week, on a cloudy afternoon, you made your way to the structure that housed the artisans’ work area.

Only one new artisan joined the staff: a blacksmith, specializing in forging weapons out of steel. Such a skill was hard to come by outside of Coruscant or Mandalore; you were eager to meet them. Fennec accompanied you as you stepped into the building, where everyone halted their work and stood at attention.

“Good afternoon, Your Highness,” the head artisan, Kuiil, greeted.

“Please, as you were,” you said with a smile.

Kuiil was among your favorite people in the whole palace: always a joy to speak with, and always mindful of others’ well-being. And despite his small stature, he was capable of more than most hoped to be; he could weld, sew, and sculpt, among many other things. Much of Sorgan's more recent industrial success was owed to him.

After a brief catch-up with him, he brought you to the back of the main work room, where your new addition was already working on a project.

His back was turned to you as he shoveled coal into the fiery kiln, the tips of his brown hair damp with sweat, muscles straining against his efforts.

“Mr. Vaun,” Kuiil called, “Her Royal Highness has arrived.”

The man stilled and put down the shovel before turning to face you, his forearm coming up to wipe the sweat from his face.

Your brow rose as you took him in: pointed jaw and nose, silky brown skin, dark brown scruff that matched the short, curly mop on his head. Bushy eyebrows were slightly scrunched together. His breaths came in slow and deep, his chest puffing up with each one and stretching out the thin tunic he wore.

But what really caught your attention were his eyes. They were dark, hooded, yet shimmering with life. Like a stained-glass window that gave way for light, but partially shielded whatever lay on the other side.

They were beautiful. You cleared your throat as heat began to collect in your cheeks.

His gaze darted about before coming to rest on you, his expression tight.

“Your Highness,” he mumbled with a small bow of the head.

Making eye contact with him lit a fire in you. The hair on the back of your head stood, your heartbeat quickening. Something sparked in his eyes as well, something you couldn’t identify. You took a deep breath and gave him a small nod in return.

“This is Din Vaun,” Kuiil said, “he’ll be helping us create more steel weapons. And he’ll also be helping me with the construction of a new wagon I’ve designed.”

“That’s wonderful,” you said with a smile. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Vaun. Thank you so much for joining us.”

Mr. Vaun’s brow scrunched together for a moment before he nodded again.

“Thank you for-” he cleared his throat, “for the opportunity, Your Highness.”

~~~~

Din didn’t dare move a muscle until you and your guard had left the building. It was strange enough having anyone see his face after all these years, but to look directly into the eyes of his target…

That was new.

But there was no other way. In order to blend in, he couldn’t wear his Mandalorian uniform. While there were some citizens of Sorgan who came from Mandalore, the Queen knew them all and was known for screening them before granting them permission to stay.

It never would’ve worked for Din. He’d become a suspect right away once you were dead. He had to take every precaution to keep that from happening.

When Kuiil assured him that he was free to keep working, Din picked up his shovel and went back to tossing coal into the raging flame. Memories of the day before — killing off the unfortunate soul that was supposed to be here, then strategically hiding his Mandalorian gear before arriving — flashed in his mind.

Taking it off irritated every first instinct he held.

No one in Mandalore removed their helmets in front of people outside their families. Since Din did not have one, he did not remove it unless he was alone. That was the way. Only the Queen and some of his peers knew his face, and even they hadn’t seen it in decades. She had granted him a pardon for this job, but that did not erase Din’s guilt.

Even when he got here, he didn’t dare make eye contact with anyone.

But then you walked in. And for some reason he couldn’t help himself.

Din had never felt more naked, more vulnerable, than he did under your gaze. It was as if your bright eyes peered into his very soul. Goosebumps rose all over his skin. Some kind of spark was lit in the very pit of his stomach.

Was that normal?

Din sighed as he shoved one last pile of coal into the fire, staring into the flames to distract his mind. His jobs had never before required him to outfit an opposing army with some of the best craftsmanship in the world, but there was little he could do about that now. If success meant sacrificing a few swords and spears, so be it.

Plus, it gave him a small piece of familiarity to cling to.

~~~~

“Where is he from again?” you asked Fennec on your way back to the main palace.

“I’m afraid I don’t know, Your Highness. I’ll be sure to find out for you.”

“I’ve never seen eyes like his before,” you muttered to yourself.

And you really hadn’t. They had a certain fire to them, something alive and bursting with energy, unlike anything you could’ve imagined. The sight of them was eternally pinned to your mind’s eye, the moment you spent staring into them replaying any time you so much as blinked.

Your next activity for the day was a combat lesson. At your request, and despite the former King’s disapproval, you were being trained to fight. With any and all weapons, and with your own hands as well. After years of practice you were now a master archer and sword fighter, along with some other choice weapons. Your current lessons were in hand-to-hand combat as well as jousting lances.

But what you truly wanted to learn was something no one in the vicinity was able to teach you: spear fighting.

You weren’t sure why you were drawn to spears. Perhaps it was the wise tales your mother used to tell you as a child. Or the histories you used to read about that described how your ancestors used to use them. Regardless, every spear master in the Queen’s army was currently at Sorgan’s borders to screen any and all entries and exits, serving as the nation’s first line of defense.

You changed and spent an hour practicing hand-to-hand combat with Fennec in the palace’s sweatroom: an area your mother had converted solely for you. The former ballroom gained much more use with its revamp, now sporting various equipment and weapons in the corners and along the walls, cushioned mats all around, and a view of the courtyard below from the grand windows.

Guards were stationed outside the door and on the balcony that lined the room anytime you were inside. This way you were given privacy to train, but should you need them, every guard would be able to hear you from their post.

You were getting better at blocking Fennec’s hits and returning them with your own. As she swept in with her leg you jumped up to dodge and tackled her to the ground, pinning her arms on either side of her head.

“Well done, Princess. Nice dodge.”

You chuckled and caught your breath as you helped her up. Your favorite part about these lessons was having your instructors be less formal with you. You made it clear they could address you however they pleased in this room, that rank was no factor. It established their agency and built a sense of trust you otherwise wouldn’t have.

A knock sounded at the door.

“Your Highness, it’s time for the council meeting.”

You groaned.

“Why so glum?” Fennec asked.

“As interesting as these meetings are,” you started, wiping down your sweaty face with a cloth, “they are also incredibly long. My mind can only absorb so much at once.”

“Well, perhaps we can arrange something more relaxing for you this weekend. A treat for getting through them.”

She winked at you, and you grinned.

“Gather the gang, set a time.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

~~~~

At the end of that week, on Saturday morning, Din made his way into the palace with the rest of the artisans for breakfast. Apparently you let all the staff members eat in the palace’s dining hall and feast on food made by the royal chefs. This wasn’t the type of treatment Din expected. Given Mandalore’s customs, it was confusing.

He eyed the large dining area as he walked through. Up until then he just sat with Kuiil while he ate, but it was about time he started gathering information.

His intel told him that the golden pauldrons worn on the right shoulders of the armed guard soldiers meant they were Commanders. Two golden pauldrons signified Generals, and golden helmets signified Admirals. There were not many Generals or Admirals to be seen around the dining area, but Din spotted a couple Commanders.

In the far corner one sat alone. Perfect, Din thought. Surely this guard wouldn’t remember talking with a random staff member, and he may be able to learn a helpful thing or two.

Once Din received a tray of food, he pretended to search for a seat before making his way towards the guard.

“Pardon me, may I join you? I’m afraid the other tables are full.”

The guard nodded and waved him over. Din sat across from him.

“I don’t recognize you, are you new here?” he asked.

“Yes,” Din started, “just arrived a few days ago.”

The guard nodded and held out his hand.

“Cobb Vanth.”

“Din Vaun.”

It felt strange to use an alias. Another thing no past job required of him. Though it did provide a sense of security, like he was still able to hide a piece of himself from the world.

“Pleasure to meet you, Din,” Cobb said with a crooked grin. “Tell me, what do you do ‘round here?”

“I’m a blacksmith,” Din said in between bites of food. “I specialize in steel weapons.”

Cobb’s brow raised.

“That’s a pretty rare skill. Where you from where you could learn to weld like that?”

Din gulped and mentally began to scan a world map. There was only one other nation as well-known for its steelwork.

“Coruscant.”

“Ah, makes sense.”

“How about you?” Din asked, trying to steer the conversation away from himself.

“I’m from Tatooine. Tiny little district called Mos Pelgo that got taken over back in the Bandit days.”

Din nodded. The Bandit Days referred to the purging of most of Tatooine by foreign invaders. They’d since been run out, but the nation was left in ruins.

“Luckily I made it out before it got real bad. Found my way here, and the rest is history.”

“It’s interesting how this place operates,” Din said, “I didn’t expect to be treated this way by royalty.”

“They are made different here,” Cobb said with a nod. “Unlike most, the Princess and the Queen see us all as humans. And they treat us as such. Though the King wasn’t like that, the old bastard.”

“What do you mean?”

“The King was basically like any ol’ tyrant you could imagine. Always scowlin’, had to get his message across by yellin’. Made Her Majesty and Her Highness miserable.”

Cobb shook his head and bit into his food. Din scrunched his brow. This guy was talking about the royals as if they were his family.

“The Princess pushed for better treatment of palace staff while he was around, but he always ignored her. Didn’t stop her from sneakin’ around and doin’ it anyway.”

Din ate a mouthful of bread, unsure of what to do with this information.

“Now that the old creaton is gone she really stepped up and made sure we were taken care of. And so we do that in return when we can.”

Now that was interesting.

“How’s that?”

Cobb eyed Din with a brow raised.

“However she may need.”

He left it at that and revisited his meal. Din gave a small nod and did the same. These dynamics were going to make it difficult to learn anything useful.

“Room for one more?”

Din looked up to see a familiar woman in black armor settling into a seat at the small table.

“Ah, Miss Shand,” Cobb started, tone playful, “there will always be room for you.”

She waved him off and turned to Din.

“You're the new blacksmith, correct? Mr. Vaun?”

Din nodded as he finished chewing on his food. He cleared his throat and held out a tentative hand to her, hoping that mimicking Cobb's gesture would come off the right way.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Fennec Shand,” she said as she shook it with a grin.

“Can’t believe we got someone from Coruscant,” Cobb said, “Queen must be thrilled.”

“It is pretty lucky,” Fennec responded, “was there a reason you left Coruscant?”

She eyed Din with a certain level of skepticism, her eyes seemingly searching for some kind of clue. Din took a breath, trying to come up with an answer.

“I, um,” he started, “I left Coruscant not too long ago. Wanted to travel, explore new places.”

Even to Din it was a dumb answer. He inwardly cringed as he waited for Fennec and Cobb to react. They were silent, as if waiting for him to continue.

“My life there wasn’t much, I…” he paused and thought for a moment, thinking of how to expand. “I wanted to do something more with the skills I have. And the chance just wasn’t there in Coruscant.”

Fennec nodded.

“That’s very noble.”

The three of them made idle chit chat after that, talking about other new arrivals and telling anecdotes from various little moments around the palace. Din mostly listened, searching through their words for any information that may help with the job, and berating himself for how he handled what few questions he was asked.

No prior job had required this much talking.

Din finished up his meal and excused himself from the table, ears still listening in as he walked away.

“Oh, and Cobb-” Fennec said, “meet us for a session at the stables.”

Din's brows shot up; that was obvious code for something.

And he was going to find out what it was.

~~~~

That night, you were finishing the laces on your riding boots just as a soft knock sounded at your door.

“Come in,” you said.

Fennec came through with a grin.

“You ready, Princess?”

You returned her smile and nodded.

“Let’s do it.”

The two of you snuck through the dark and silent corridors of the palace, making your way down the grand staircase and through the foyer to reach the stables. Yellow candlelight bounced off the walls and along the surrounding surfaces. The faces of your ancestors that were immortalized in portraits partially came to life under their glow.

Awaiting you among the rows of horses were Cobb, Sir Fett, your seamstress, Omera, and Koska, another member of the guard. You and Fennec stepped through the hay-strewn cobblestone to reach them.

“Are we all set?” you asked Sir Fett.

“Ready when you are, my dear.” he said with a grin.

With that you led them out towards the exit, but stopped short when you spotted a new horse at the end of the row.

She was gorgeous; a grey coat with dark spots in some areas that seemed to shine against the dim yellow light, a mane blacker than the void itself. She was a decent specimen, nothing overly fancy. Yet something about her entranced you. Her head drooped as she slumbered. You resisted the urge to reach over the gate and pet her.

“Whose horse is this?”

“I believe it belongs to one of the new arrivals,” Sir Fett responded.

“She’s beautiful,” you whispered.

After another moment of admiring the steed, you pushed on. The group’s horses were already saddled and ready to ride just outside. You mounted yours and gently coaxed him forward down the dirt path that lined the outskirts of the palace. The cool air of the night ignited every goosebump in your arms with its bite; you shivered against it.

The world around you was almost pitch black, save for the soft moonlight that outlined each stone in the palace walls and each tree that protruded out of the ground. Fennec, Sir Fett, Cobb, and Omera were carrying lanterns that mixed their ochre hue into the night as well. The group soon headed off palace grounds and into the dark forest ahead. The smell of pine overwhelmed your senses.

Despite the increased danger that accompanied the night, you couldn’t help smiling as you took in its beauty.

Throughout every era of your life, you lived for the night. It was your friend, your confidante, your savior. It kept your stressors away, whisking you into its fantastical bliss whenever you so much as glanced into the starry sky above, or gazed at the ever-present moon. The night gave you freedom, gave you purchase to pursue the types of happiness that you didn’t have the time for otherwise.

A sudden rustling pulled you from your thoughts and had you halting your horse. Everyone else followed suit, slowly surrounding you.

“Which direction did it come from?” you whispered to Fennec.

“Behind us.”

Sir Fett turned his horse around.

“Stay put, Your Highness. Koska, with me.”

The two of them guided their horses down the way you all had come. You held your breath and waited, your hand gripping the handle on your sword.

“Show yourself,” Sir Fett called, “There’s no use running.”

Silence.

Then a sudden thud.

Every head turned in the direction of the noise.

In the path before you, a tree branch had fallen right where you would’ve passed through.

“Forgive me,”

You turned towards the voice to see Mr. Vaun standing before you all, hands raised in the air.

“I heard noises and wanted to investigate. When I noticed the weakening branch I wanted to distract you without frightening you. My apologies, Your Highness.”

His story sounded off in a way. You dismounted your horse and made your way towards him.

“Your Highness-”

You cut Sir Fett off with a hand in the air, your eyes not leaving Mr. Vaun’s.

“How did you notice the branch, Mr. Vaun?”

“I could hear it crackling,” he said, “It’s a very quiet sound but a trained ear can perceive it.”

“A trained ear?” you pressed.

“Yes.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. Why would a blacksmith have such training?

“Why did you investigate on your own?” you asked.

His eyes bore into yours. Even in the dark of night, their fiery brown irises inspired a flame of your own under your skin.

“I used to be a guard back home. It’s an instinct of mine.”

“You were a blacksmith and a guard?” you raised a brow.

“Yes,” he said, “that’s not uncommon in Coruscant.”

You raised your chin as you took in his words. Fennec had mentioned learning he was from Coruscant; it only increased the mystery around him.

Coruscant was very unlike Sorgan, but not in ways that were negative. Their customs and traditions were as unique to them as those of any nation, but things like this were a stark contrast to Sorgan, where guards and blacksmiths didn't have enough common training for one to easily become both.

That would at least explain how he heard the tree branch, you thought. You squeezed the handle on your sword.

“Tell me, Mr. Vaun, how good are you with a weapon?”

His lip twitched upward in what looked like amusement.

“Good enough, Your Highness.”

You narrowed your eyes. The air between you both was suddenly thicker. Even though there was a distance between you, it seemed as though his very eyes were feeling their way around your skin, dissecting your every move. You stepped closer to him until he was just a couple feet in front of you.

You had to look up to maintain eye contact as he towered over you. You tilted your head as you took in his features under the moonlight teasing through the trees; sharp contrasts outlined the bridge of his nose and the apples of his cheeks, along with his chin and forehead. His eyes seemed to glow in the night, their warmth thawing out the darkness around them. His lips were in a firm line across his face, a slight plumpness visible among their shadows.

You smirked. Time to test his confidence.

In the blink of an eye you drew your sword and swung. He reacted with unexpected practice and ease, dodging your blow and moving behind you, grabbing your arm and positioning the sword at your neck, the other pinned behind your back.

Adrenaline surged through your veins. His breath tickled your ear, the warmth from his hands burning into your skin. You were amazed at how big they were; your own dwarfed in comparison. His heart thumped against your back. Even, but fast.

You turned your head to look at him. His face was just inches from your own. He returned your gaze, eyes darting down to your lips for a brief second.

You heard horses shuffling about behind you.

“It’s alright,” you called, unable to look away from him. “I’m fine.”

You stayed in his grip for a prolonged moment before stepping away and sheathing your sword, his grip on you slipping and his warmth leaving with it. The air felt twice as cold as it did before.

“Had to see for myself, after all,” you said with a breathy laugh, despite your shaking nerves. “Talk is cheap around here when it comes to skill.”

Fennec shook her head with a chuckle.

Mr. Vaun looked between you and the group behind him, confusion etched all over his expression.

“Come with us,” you said with a smile. “You can ride with me.”

He seemed even more confused. You didn’t give him room to ask questions before ushering him towards your horse.

“I don’t know about this, Princess,” Sir Fett said, genuine concern coating his words. You smiled at him.

“I have some of the best warriors in Sorgan right here,” you started, turning around to face the group. “If he somehow fucks up, I trust he’ll be dead before any of you could take a breath.”

You looked back at Mr. Vaun.

“But I have a feeling he’s not going to…”

He gulped under your gaze. You smirked and raised a brow at him.

“Are you now, Mr. Vaun?”

His eyes betrayed a sense of foreboding that you couldn’t fathom. But there was a hint of admiration among them as well. He shook his head.

“Good.”

You walked ahead and mounted your horse, holding your hand out to him. He stared at it, then looked around to the rest of the group before taking it.

Electricity bloomed between your skin and his. It took everything you had not to flinch away. He hoisted himself up behind you, his chest pressed flush against your back, his thighs hugging yours. You took a deep breath and embraced the warmth he provided as you turned your horse and nudged him forward.

The ride to the archery range seemed longer than usual. Having Mr. Vaun pressed against you was doing something to your senses; you could only seem to focus on his presence. He was warm, still, heartbeat steady against your back once more. Part of you wanted to lean into his chest. Another part of you feared for your life as you replayed him disarming you with a scary type of precision. He had the blade of your sword pressed just above the skin of your neck before you could even register that he moved.

You had no reason to believe he would, but what was to stop him from dropping you where you stood?

And why was that so thrilling?

The group halted once the forest parted and gave way to the archery range: a vast rectangular clearing fenced by the trees of the surrounding forest, more than open enough for a team of archers to practice in peace. It was almost like its own field of reality, independent of the earth around it. Posts designed to hold arrows stood in a line close to you while targets were placed on the far end. You let Mr. Vaun dismount first before hopping off your horse and tying him to a nearby tree. The rest of the group followed suit and you all gathered in a circle in the grass.

“What’ll it be tonight, Princess?” Fennec asked. You stroked your chin in thought, taking in the group surrounding you.

Including yourself there were seven of you: one more than usual. You eyed Mr. Vaun as he looked down at the grass; he was broad, muscles smooth yet thick underneath his tunic. Tall, but not wonky. He should be able to keep up with our usual activities, you thought to yourself.

You channeled the events of the week through your mind, searching through them for the release you’d been lacking. Endless meetings, sitting down and listening to swarm after swarm of new information about other nations, other nobility, and changing political climates. You had been surrounded by conversations concerning potential battle, peace talk strategies, and overall fear and rigidity.

You smiled as you thought of the perfect activity.

“Let’s start with some good old-fashioned sparring,” you said, “then we’ll shoot some arrows.”

“I call Boba,” Koska called with a grin. “I’ve been waiting for an excuse to punch you in the lip, old man.”

Boba laughed and shoved her shoulder.

“Easy there, little one.”

They ran off to begin sparring while you eyed the rest of the group.

“I’ll take watch, Princess.” Cobb said as he raised his hand.

“You sure?”

He nodded.

“Better than getting my ass kicked by any of you lovely ladies.”

With a chuckle he ran off to remount his horse.

“Fennec, why don’t you spar with Omera tonight?”

“Sure,” Fennec gave Omera a nod. Her cheeks turned a rosy pink as she nodded in return and headed off.

You smiled at them before looking towards your remaining partner. He was still staring down at the ground.

“You seem uncomfortable, Mr. Vaun.”

He quirked his head before sighing.

“This is just a very different environment than I’m used to, Your Highness.”

“I understand,” you said with a nod. “I don’t expect that the royal family of Coruscant would do things like this.”

He nodded.

“But if you’re going to be part of this little group of mine, you'll need to be okay with being a little less formal. That’s the best part of these outings.”

He dragged his eyes up to meet yours.

“You only just got here, I understand that it’ll take time. For now let’s just spar.”

You stepped up to him, but he didn’t move from his position.

“Simple stuff,” you said with a shrug. “The goal is just to pin the other person down first. Don’t be fooled by Koska and Sir Fett, no brawl needs to be had.”

His lips twitched upward. You gave him a smile.

“What do you say?”

His eyes searched yours, curiosity dancing about in their brown glow. Your smile grew a bit as you waited for his response.

After a moment he nodded and stepped forward. You began to circle each other, gaze unbroken.

Neither of you said a word. You continued staring each other down for what seemed like an eternity. Eventually his eye darted behind you to the other two pairs going at it.

That’s when you charged.

You came at him with lightning-fast speed, aiming to tackle him down. He swerved around your arms and tripped you. You stumbled forward but found your footing just in time to pull the same trick on him. With a huff he fell to the ground; you pressed your heel to his neck.

“Nice try,” you said.

He looked dazed. Confused. It was your favorite look to get from an opponent who didn’t know your strength.

“Wait,” he breathed, “is the rule to get your opponent on the ground, or to pin them down?”

Your brow shot up. You tried to jerk your foot away, but it was too late.

He grabbed onto it and dragged you down with him, arms pressing onto your shoulders. You let out a laugh and rolled him over.

The two of you traveled through the grass, desperate to keep the other still. His touch was so warm and firm against your chill. Finally you were able to press your knees to his sides and your legs over his hips to keep him below you, your arms firmly planting his shoulders on the ground.

He looked even more confused than before, eyes wide and lips slightly parted as he caught his breath. You were catching yours as well; his arms were sprawled out on either side of his head, yet their firm grip was stained to your skin.

His chest heaved beneath yours. You couldn’t help matching his pattern. His eyes summoned that same flame deep within you from the day you met him, the one you didn't understand. What was it about him, you wondered. You tried to push the thought aside and regain your playful demeanor. You leaned in closer to him with a grin.

“Pin ‘em down,” you whispered, “Thanks for the reminder.”

~~~~

When the group returned to the stables, Fennec took your horse and returned him to his slumber. You stood outside with Mr. Vaun, the rest of the group loitering nearby.

“You know, I enjoyed having you along tonight.”

“Thank you.”

“You put up quite a fight,” you said with a chuckle. “It was refreshing.”

“How so?” he asked. You shrugged.

“I guess I just get the feeling that the others go easy on me. It might just be subconscious, but it’s there.” You gave him a smile. “It was nice to get a fairer fight.”

He gulped and gave you a nod, his energy becoming timid once more.

“I’d love for you to join us next time, if you’d like. As long as I can count on your discretion.”

“My discretion?”

You nodded, your tone becoming more serious.

“Very few know that I do this. And I technically shouldn’t be now, given recent events.” You stepped closer to him.

“If you’re to join us, this must be kept silent. Is that understood?”

He looked you up and down before nodding.

“Good,” you said with a smirk. You patted his chest with the back of your hand and turned to head in the stables.

“Welcome aboard, Mr. Vaun.”

Fennec met up with you next to the stable that held your horse.

“Are you sure about this, Princess? We don’t know him yet.”

You shrugged and looked back the way you came.

“I’ve got a feeling about him. Like he might be hiding something, or that there’s just something more to him. I want to find out what it is.”

“Should you really be running towards unknowns right now?”

“I know,” you turned back to her. “I really shouldn’t. But I have you all to protect me. It’ll all be fine.”

You stopped there, but there were a million more thoughts in your head. You didn’t mention the mysterious heat that erupted in your gut whenever you looked at him, the tingling sensation left over from his touch, or the way his peculiarly strong fighting skills had you feeling a new type of thrill that you so desperately wanted to chase.

Or the amount of fascinating falsehoods that lurked within his words.

~~~~

As you and Fennec weaved your way through the palace, you replayed the look on Omera’s face when you paired them up.

“How was sparring with Omera?” you asked.

“Fine,” she said with a shrug. “She’s very capable.”

You smirked. Omera’s crush on Fennec was more obvious than the sun in the sky, yet somehow Fennec was clueless to it. You wondered how long Omera would wait before saying something.

When you got back to your room, Fennec bid you goodnight before taking her post outside your door.

You had multiple guards on most nights, but when you snuck out it was necessary for Fennec to take an extra shift. You felt guilty each time for depriving her of a couple hours of sleep that she definitely needed. But she never complained.

You were lucky to have her. Every day you were thankful for her, and for every other person that worked so hard to uphold the palace you called home.

As you got ready and settled into bed, you replayed the night’s events in your mind. The memory of Mr. Vaun’s body tangled with yours while you were rolling around, his large, calloused hands pressing your shoulders down, felt like a phantom floating above you. As if he were still right there, staring at you with those mysterious brown eyes.

You turned onto your side and nuzzled into your pillow.

Having new people in the castle was a good change of pace, but this was a much more drastic shift.

~~~~

This was the polar opposite of laying low.

The events of the night before replayed in Din’s head while he poured the liquid steel into its mold.

He only meant to follow you to see if he could learn your routine, to see if he could sneak up on you when the time came.

He hadn’t expected a brigade of Sorgan’s best to be taking you for a joyride.

And he certainly hadn’t expected to join in.

Damn that tree branch. He could’ve let it crush you, but then he wouldn’t get paid. The only way to prevent that was to reveal himself to you. But the resulting outcome complicated everything.

His job required that his presence be quiet, that he keep his head down and blend in. But he failed, and now you had a new expectation for him. And if his interactions up to now said anything about you, this meant all of Sorgan’s highest ranking personnel would notice if he were to suddenly vanish after your death. He had to rethink his timing.

Yet on the other hand, that excursion taught him things about you he would not have otherwise known. He may have held back during your wrestling match, but not by much. Your strength was impeccable; it impressed him. You were much more than the frail royal he assumed you were. Watching you shoot bullseye after bullseye was also eye-opening; who knew a Princess would be a master archer as well?

His mind continued to wander, moving back to the moment you tested him. He had to hold himself back from accidentally cutting you down with your own sword, and the look in your eyes was still stuck in his mind. You looked frightful, yes, but something else was flirting with it. Something he couldn’t identify.

Something he wanted to see more of.

Seeing your eyes so filled with light and life, something he could never see through his helmet, sent a shiver down his spine.

You were something else. It wouldn’t be as easy to kill you as he initially thought. His whole plan needed rethinking.

The skin of his shoulders began to tingle, right where you'd touched him. Every inch of him was burning when he got back to bed that night, and he laid awake with the phantoms of your arms and legs pinning him down; when was the last time anyone had laid their hands so close to his skin? He couldn't recall.

He took a deep breath. It was too much.

First your eyes, now your touch.

All too quickly you were exposing him to aspects of life that never occurred in Mandalore. And he wasn't sure what to do about it. Every alarm began screaming in his head.

This was not the way.

So why was he so intrigued by it?

****

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#the mandalorian #din djarin #din djarin x reader #assassin!au #new fic #assassin!din #princess!reader #a strange duet #my writing #i must've proofread this thing a billion times #but i may have still missed something so #just letting you all know lol #i was just too damn excited for this #originally i planned to have vamp!Din done before this but whoops

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