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all-the-things-2020 · 1 year ago

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Deeds Not Less Valiant - Chapter Four

Pairing: Din Djarin x OFC (Tala Pavan)

Rating: PG-13

Summary: After Grogu accidentally reveals Din’s face to Tala, Din and Grogu travel to Mandalore to consult with the Armorer.

Word Count: 3750+

Notes: This chapter is a little longer than I anticipated. It’s all Din and Grogu but I promise we will get back to Tala next chapter!

Din strode quickly through the streets. People scattered out of his way; he knew he was intimidating, and usually he would nod at those he passed to put them at ease, but right now he wasn’t thinking of others.

Grogu sat glumly in his bag, ears drooped. “I’m not mad at you,” Din said softly. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Grogu’s ears lifted a little and he made a questioning sound. “It’s okay, kid. I just … need some time.”

“Ta?”

“I’m not mad at her either,” Din replied. I’m mad at myself. Tala had done nothing wrong. Neither had Grogu. It wasn’t the idea that Tala had seen his face, or that Grogu had shared his memory; it was the memory itself that had wounded Din. Knowing that the only image of him that Grogu had in his head was one of sadness and grief …. Din shook his head. Breathe. Don’t cry with the helmet on. Crying was a messy business at the best of times. The only thing worse than crying under a helmet was having a head cold.

By the time they reached the cabin, Din had regulated his breathing and calmed his racing heartbeat. He still felt the lump of sorrow that had settled in his chest, but he was rational again.

“I didn’t realize that your memory of that moment was so strong,” Din explained as he lifted Grogu out of the carry bag. “I’m sorry that you only saw me when I was so sad.”

Grogu laid his hand against the side of Din’s helmet. “Da,” he said solemnly.

“I just … I wanted you to know who I was before you left,” Din said. “I didn’t know if I’d see you again and I couldn’t stand you not having a memory of my face. That’s all I have left of my own parents. A memory.”

His last glimpse of them as they locked him away, safe from the battle droids, was of sorrow and fear and the tiniest glimmer of hope that he might survive, even if they did not. But he had other memories, vague but happy. Waking up on a sunny morning, the smell of fried bread coming from the kitchen. His mother smiling as he gave her a grubby bunch of flowers he’d picked. His father laughing when he did a silly dance. Walking through town, holding their hands, their red robes rustling as they moved.

“I wish I could give you more,” Din whispered. Grogu cocked his head as if to say, Why not?

The words “This is the Way,” died on Din’s lips. Bo-Katan had memories of her family; so did Axe and Koska and many of the others. Only the Children of the Watch were so strict. Even the Armorer had softened a bit, no longer denying the choices of those who walked a different path than her own. Maybe it was time to adjust his own path, just a little.

“How about a trip to Mandalore, kid?”

Grogu’s ears went straight up.

*********************************************************

Mandalore looked much the same from the air as it had the first time Din had landed, but beneath the surface great changes had already been made. Din steered his star fighter into a nearly hidden opening and dropped it neatly on a landing platform next to a small drop ship.

“I would think the leader of Mandalore had better things to do than meet visitors,” Din said as Bo-Katan Kryze approached the ship, her helmet tucked neatly under her arm.

“I always have time for the kid,” she said with a smirk. Grogu leaped out of the cockpit and into her arm. She caught him neatly, without dropping her helmet. “Hey, there, kiddo. How’s your dad treating you?”

Grogu babbled something and Bo-Katan nodded thoughtfully. “Can you watch him for a bit while I speak to the Armorer?” Din asked.

“Of course. He can help me inspect the hydroponic pods. We’re expecting a harvest in just a few weeks. Fresh grown Mandalorian peppers, just like grandma used to cook with, not those wimpy things we’ve been importing from off world.”

“Good,” Din said. “Behave yourself, kid. I’ll comm you when I’m done.”

Grogu nodded and tapped the small comm strapped to his wrist. Din had picked it up in the marketplace a few days ago, thinking it might come in handy for keeping in touch with Tala. Now it had found an even better use.

He descended into the depths of the underground caverns. The forges were far beneath the surface, where they could tap into the geothermal heat of the planet’s core.

He found the Armorer supervising the creation of a shoulder pauldron. “A lighter touch, if you please,” she told the young man at the fire. “Beskar is strong but it responds to less force than steel. If you are too heavy handed, the metal will rebel against you.”

She watched a moment longer, then turned to Din. “Din Djarin. I did not expect you back on Mandalore so soon.”

“I have need of your counsel,” he said carefully. It was hard to judge the Armorer’s mood. Was she feeling indulgent today, or would she reply with silence and a solemn intonation of “This is the Way”?

“Let us walk where it is quieter,” she said. “I sense that you are troubled.”

He followed her deeper into the caverns, until the sound of the forge fell away and they could hear the gentle drip of water from the ceiling. “Tell me what brings you here,” the Armorer said.

Din told her, simply and plainly, what had happened. She nodded thoughtfully when he was finished. “You want to know if the woman knowing your face violates the Creed.”

“No,” Din said. “I know it doesn’t. I did not remove my helmet.”

“This is the Way,” the Armorer said evenly. “So what is your concern, Din Djarin?”

“It hurt me, realizing that the only memory of my face that Grogu has is one where I was sad,” he said. “I have many memories of my parents’ faces, and only the last one is painful. Grogu has only this one.” He sighed. “He’s older than I am but still a child. How long will he live? How long will he carry that memory inside him, only knowing me as a man filled with grief?”

“Grogu knows that you are not always sad,” she said.

“I realize that,” he said. “He knows when I’m happy, but he doesn’t know what that looks like.” He was having a hard time putting it into words. “I want him to have the same kinds of memories of me that I have of my parents, to comfort him in the future, when … I’m gone. He may live for centuries.”

“You wish to remove your helmet again,” the Armorer said tersely.

“Only in front of him,” Din said. “He is part of my Clan. He is closer to me than any other being in the galaxy. And he’s a child. He deserves … he needs to see the love on his father’s face. I know this violates the Creed I swore, but I feel that this is my path. I cannot remove my helmet all the time, like Lady Bo-Katan does. That is not how I wish to follow the Way, but I think … I think it’s time I walk a little closer to her path. A little further from yours.”

He stood patiently, waiting for the Armorer’s judgment. She was not the sole arbiter of the Mandalorian Creed, he knew that now, but she was still his spiritual guide. If she told him it was forbidden, he would accept her decision and keep his helmet on.

“There was a time I would have admonished you for even thinking such a thing,” she said slowly. “But that was before the restoration of Mandalore to our people. Before Bo-Katan Kryze redeemed herself by leading us home. This made me realize that perhaps there was more than one path.”

“And my path?”

“Only you can decide your path, Din Djarin. I know your heart follows the Way of the Mand’alor and you would not do anything to stray from it. You are a true Mandalorian, as am I, as is Lady Bo-Katan. We walk side by side. This is the Way.”

“This is the Way,” Din replied.

*************************************************

Din found Bo-Katan and Grogu near the hydro pods. Grogu was munching on a green pepper that even in its unripened state released pungent fumes that Din could smell through the filter of his helmet. “How can you eat that?,” he asked as he took Grogu from her.

The child shrugged and took another bite. Kid’s got a cast-iron stomach, Din mused.

“He insisted,” Bo-Katan said. “I tried to tell him it wasn’t ready yet, but he still wanted it.”

“If he gets an upset stomach, I’m bringing him to you,” Din said. Once, Grogu had devoured several unripe fruits and that had been a very long night.

Bo-Katan smirked. “I’ll send him to the healer. She has a small clinic, regular office hours and everything. It’s coming back, Din. Mandalore is returning to something like the place I remember, the place I grew up.” Her eyes softened as she remembered Mandalore in its glory.

“Thanks to your leadership,” he said.

She shook her head. “No, thanks to all of us working together for a change. I still have my disagreements with the Armorer and the other Children of the Watch, and there are still … scuffles, now and then, but for the most part, we respectfully agree to disagree about the finer points of our culture and focus on the bigger picture; restoring Mandalore.”

“This is the Way,” Din said.

“This is the Way,” Bo-Katan replied. There was a time when she would have spoken the words sarcastically, but now he sensed she truly meant them, even if her definition of the Way differed from his own.

“So, what brought you here and sent you scurrying off to the Armorer as soon as you landed?”

Din briefly explained what had happened. She nodded thoughtfully when he was done. “What have you decided?”

Din sighed. Grogu paused in mid chew, his ears pricked and eyes alight. “I’m not sure yet,” he said, and Grogu deflated, just a little. “I need more time to think on it. To contemplate what it would mean.”

“Uh oh, kid, your dad’s going to use his brain,” Bo-Katan said. “This might take a while.” She laughed gently. “All kidding aside, I’m glad you’re taking this step. Even if you decide to continue following the Way as you have in the past, you’re questioning it, not just following blindly.”

Grogu nodded and took another bite. “Ya,” he said, around a mouthful of crunchy pepper.

“Don’t talk with your mouth full,” Din admonished.

“I meant to ask you,” Bo-Katan said. “Is it just me or is he talking more now?”

“He is,” Din said proudly. “We’ve been working with him on that. In fact, it’s the reason we were celebrating.”

“We meaning you and … Tara?”

“Tala,” Din corrected her. “Yes. She’s helped him quite a bit. Which helps me. We’re communicating better every day. He still doesn’t listen all the time, though.”

Grogu narrowed his eyes and stuck out his tongue, very briefly. He was mischievous but not rude.

“It must be gratifying to know what he’s thinking behind those big bright eyes,” she said. “You should bring Tala with you the next time. I’d love to have a conversation with Grogu, find out all your sordid little secrets.”

Din snorted. “I have no secrets. And you know my starfighter only seats one person … plus a very small passenger.” He squeezed Grogu a little closer. It was snug in the cockpit with Grogu on his lap, but it felt right.

“We have other ships,” Bo-Katan said. “No one would begrudge you the use of something a little bigger. After all, you’re the one who reclaimed the Darksaber from Moff Gideon in the first place. It may be gone, but it’s still a powerful symbol to our people. And speaking of symbols … there’s something you should see.”

She led them to the cavern that held the Living Waters, where one of the walls had been carved and painted with the signets of many clans, surrounding an enormous Mythosaur signet. “Here,” Bo-Katan said, pointing to the lower right corner of the mural. “The signet of your clan.”

Din was shocked to see the Mudhorn signet, carefully rendered and painted plain silver, alongside the signets of other famous clans, like Clan Kryze, Clan Wren, and Clan Vizsla. “But, why?” Grogu pulled open his robe, revealing the beskar rondel he wore over his chest, marked with the Mudhorn. His eyes were wide and soft.

“Because Clan Mudhorn has made its mark on Mandalorian history,” Bo-Katan said. “Without you, I would never have reclaimed the Darksaber, never been able to convince Axe Woves and the others to join me in taking back Mandalore. And without you, I could not have mended the rift between the Children of the Watch and the rest of us.” She laid a hand on Grogu’s head. “We owe the two of you a great deal.”

“We are honored,” Din said, bowing his head, hoping she could not hear the catch in his voice. Grogu nodded as well.

“As you should be,” Bo-Katan replied. “Yours is the smallest clan featured on the wall. But good things grow from small beginnings, right, kid?”

“Ya,” Grogu said, patting his rondel.

“So take a look at the ships. We have some light freighters that just need a little work. I’m sure we can find something that would suit you. And then you can bring your girlfriend next time.”

Din felt the blood rush to his cheeks. “Friend,” he said. “Tala is our friend.”

Grogu tilted his head and gave him a look. So did Bo-Katan. “Anyway,” she said after a beat, “check out the ships. Have some pog soup. Enjoy the hospitality of Mandalore. As for myself, I should get back to my duties.” She bowed to them and walked briskly away.

“Don’t say a word,” Din said to Grogu. The child shrugged and took another bite of his pepper.

****************************************************

As the head of a clan, Din was entitled to a private chamber in the newly refurbished residential section. It was not large, but neatly furnished with a full sized bed, a low couch, a table, two chairs and a few other odds and ends. Grogu immediately tried out the bounciness of the mattress.

“Take it easy, kid,” Din admonished him. “Don’t want to lose all that soup you ate at dinner.”

Grogu giggled and continued to jump. “I mean it,” Din said firmly. “If you get sick all over yourself, you’re going in the shower clothes and all.”

Grogu’s ears drooped a little and he slowed down. Like all small children, he was not overly fond of baths, and he hated wearing wet clothes. They’d gotten caught in a rainstorm once and he’d been as cranky as a damp loth-cat.

Din went about his evening routine, carefully removing his armor and polishing it. He named each piece as he did, and soon Grogu was sitting on the bed, entranced by the recitation.

“Pauldron. To protect the shoulder. The shoulder joint allows movement of the arm. Lose that and you cannot wield a weapon.”

As he cleaned each piece, Din stowed it on the armor stand beside the bed. It was a luxury he wasn’t used to, a traditional piece of Mandalorian furniture that he’d never had the space for.

Vambrace. Breastplate. Codpiece. Thigh guard. Knee pad. Shin guard. Boots. Din removed each element and reminded Grogu of its use. When he was down to his undersuit, Grogu was yawning. Apparently, the recitation of the armor was the best bedtime story ever.

“I’ll be back in a minute. Get comfy,” he told the child.

He stepped into the ‘fresher, where he removed his helmet, peeled off the undersuit, washed his face and cleaned his teeth. The helmet went back on, he used the lav, and he was back out in the main room, clad only in his shorts and a light tee shirt.

Grogu was on his back, snoring gently. Normally, this was when Din would lie down beside him and find a position where his helmet didn’t dig into the back of his neck too badly. Tonight, though, he knelt in front of the armor stand. The floor was cold against his shins, polished stone hard under his knees. Good. He needed to be uncomfortable.

The Armorer had said his heart would follow the Way, so he let his heart lead him. He had removed his helmet before, out of love for Grogu. Then he had repented, re-sworn his oath in the Living Waters. Now, he pondered breaking that oath again.

He had sworn never to remove his helmet in the presence of another living thing. It was the Creed he had followed since he was a child. But the Armorer had subtly changed the words when she had performed the ceremony for Paz Vizla’s son Ragnar. His first swearing in had been interrupted by a dinosaur turtle attack; when the ritual had been performed a second time, here on Mandalore, the line about the helmet had been omitted.

I swore the old Creed, Din thought. I am bound by it. But Ragnar is not. Nor are those who are not Children of the Watch. There was a time the Armorer would have declared them unworthy of the name Mandalorian. But now Lady Bo-Katan Kryze leads our people. I have sworn allegiance to her.

It was confusing. He wanted to honor his words, honor the past, but he also wanted what was best for his son. My son. He let the words roll around in his mouth, tasting them. He had taken Grogu as his own. They were a clan of two. Clan Mudhorn. Together, they were greater than either alone. Together, they had defeated the mighty mudhorn, something neither was capable of by himself. Like all Mandalorians, they were stronger when they worked together.

Grogu had abandoned his Jedi training to return to him. He had chosen the Way of the Mand’alor, just as Din had. But he was also Force sensitive. He was not a typical foundling, a common apprentice. He had abilities that went far beyond those of his human brethren. And when Grogu was old enough, if he chose to swear the Creed, he would use the same words that Ragnar had spoken, the words that Bo-Katan had spoken.

“I swear on my name and the names of the ancestors, that I shall walk the Way of the Mandalore, and the words of the Creed shall be forever forged in my heart. This is the Way.” Din spoke softly, barely above a whisper. Then he removed his helmet and placed it reverently on the top of the armor stand.

“This is the Way,” he repeated as he climbed into bed beside Grogu. Beside his son.

*************************************

Tala leaned over him. Her hair was loose and he was tempted to reach up and touch it. She smiled at him and her fingertips traced delicately along his forehead, his cheeks, his nose, his lips. He smiled back at her. And then she put her finger up his nostril.

Din woke with a start. Grogu pulled back his hand, his eyes wide. “Da,” he said.

“Yeah, kid, it’s me,” Din said, “I decided. You are part of my Clan. You are my son. You deserve to see my face.”

“Ya,” Grogu said. He reached out again to touch Din’s face.

“I want you to remember me,” Din said. “Happy and sad, angry and proud. But this is just for us. Only when we are alone. No one else.”

“Ta?”

“You can tell Tala about it, but I’d appreciate it if you didn’t show her again, okay?” Grogu nodded. “Good. This means we can eat together now. Not as many ration bars for me. But today, we have to get something from the mess hall. So I need to get dressed.”

Grogu followed him eagerly with his eyes as he pulled on his undersuit and attached his armor. Last of all was the helmet. “We’ll come back to the room to eat, I promise,” Din told him. “But I have to wear it out there.”

Grogu nodded. “Da wa,” he said solemnly.

“This is the Way,” Din agreed.

***********************************************************

They ended up staying for over a week. Din took a shine to one of the small freighters, a Corellian model that had a cargo bay large enough to accommodate his starfighter and three bunks. One for him, one for Grogu and one for a passenger (or prisoner). It needed some work, and a few more weapons installed, but there was already a crew working on it, so Din pitched in to help. Bo-Katan asked that he agree to transport supplies to and from Mandalore now and then as payment for the ship and the deal was done.

“I think you should call her the Mudhorn,” Bo-Katan said one day when she stopped by to check on the progress.

“She’s more graceful than a mudhorn,” Din said. “I was thinking maybe the Krayt.”

“Well, she’ll certainly be as deadly as a krayt dragon by the time we’re through retrofitting her,” Bo-Katan said. “Not as formidable as our drop ships but she’ll hold her own in a fight.”

“And she will answer the call if Mandalore needs her,” Din replied.

“This is the Way.” She used the phrase less ironically now. Din felt a swell of pride in his chest. Mandalore was on its way back to its former glory. Its people were united again.

When Bo-Katan left, Din found the pot of paint he’d commandeered from Supply. “Come on, Grogu, time to christen our new ship.” He helped the child dip his hand into the paint and place a handprint on the side of the ship, near the hatch. The bright green contrasted well with the dull gray of the deck plates.

“The Krayt,” Din said.

“Kay,” Grogu said. Then he slapped a handprint on Din’s breastplate. “Da.”

Din laughed. “Yeah, okay, I’ve been christened, too.” He pulled off one glove and dipped a finger into the paint, dabbing a fingerprint onto Grogu’s rondel. “Grogu.”

“Ya,” said Grogu. “Ya.”

#the mandalorian #baby yoda #star wars #grogu #din djarin #fanfic #pedro pascal #Mandalore #din djarin x original female character #deeds not less valiant

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burnwater13 · 1 year ago

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Grogu agreed with Bo-Katan. Mandalorians are stronger… wait a minute.

Knock, knock. Knock, knock.

Hello. Grogu here. I just wanted to break the fourth wall for a minute and say, what the heck! I’ve told you stories about Bo-Katan a bunch of times and frankly, I don’t have anything else to tell you. I’m done. Finished. Out of insights. The best I can say right now, is you know as much about her as I do, unless I give you a bunch of spoilers and frankly, there are a lot of people who would be very peeved with me if I did that. So I won’t.

Now, since it’s just the two of us chatting, I’m going to add a couple of other important bits and pieces of knowledge to your understanding of how things work. First and foremost, I am not called Baby Yoda. Sorry. Nope. Uh ah. The name is Grogu. Not kid, buddy, Mac, womp rat, or padawan. Grogu. It’s a simple name. If you had to say it in my language, well, it still sounds like Grogu. Easy peasy. Thank you.

Second, I don’t know if I was hatched, born, budded, sprouted, or any of a thousand other ways a person ends up being a person. I’ve heard a lot of theories and I don’t know the answer. I will not be checking in with Master Yoda’s Force ghost (or whatever you call it) to find out more on that either. It’s a mystery. Mysteries are fun. If Jon wants to do that, he can do that.

Third, as much as I like having all those dads when I’m on set, I only have one for real. He is called Din Djarin. He has brown eyes and a scruffy beard and a very handsome nose. That’s right. The few people who have ever seen my dad’s face say he has a lovely nose. It’s a lot bigger than mine but then he’s a lot bigger than me too. Just so you know.

Now that we’ve covered that kind of stuff, I just want to say, I really appreciate you hanging out with me, day in and day out, reading the stories, laughing (I hope), and commenting if you have a chance. And for the two people who send me corrections for typos, I see you and I really appreciate it. I just wish there was an edit button everywhere. Maybe, one day.

Anyway, I’ve been asked a couple of questions pretty routinely and I thought now would be a good time and place to answer them. Since I have your attention.

Yes, I do my own stunts. Some of the time. I’ve got a great team and that includes body doubles, stunt coordinators and of course a couple of other stunt performers. The folks who work with me on that stuff are great and I know you love them as much as I do. Maybe more, since they don’t attach little wands to your arms to make sure you don’t accidentally use the Force. They go to a lot of trouble to set up the sequences and none of us want it to fall flat (no pun intended).

I am not very tall. In fact, I don’t even reach my dad’s knee cap yet. Sometimes when there isn’t a good visual reference I look bigger than I am. Frankly, I kind of like that. But, the reality is I’m about a 0.34 meters in height. I’ve grown a bit since the series first started airing, but that only added a couple of centimeters to my height. That’s a lot for me, but you might not notice it.

Contrary to what some of you may have read on internet posts, I do not eat everything and my body is not all stomach. I just like to eat my food fresh. And I do need a lot of food to keep up my energy levels. It’s not easy being the smallest person on set and no one has figured out how to get me a bicycle that I can ride from point A to point B. Dank Farrik!

Oh, yeah, if you’re wondering why I am not cooing and babbling, and all that, well, this is being translated by my assistant. They understand my language and I am really glad of that. Just because you don’t know what coo, coo, chirp, patuuuu means, doesn’t mean it’s baby talk. Don’t listen to Jon. He doesn’t understand it either. I’m just glad someone does.

Ummm, yes, Peli Motto is just as much fun as she seems to be. She’s cracking jokes about a thousand times a minute and most us can’t keep up with her, but that’s part of her charm. If you don’t understand them all, that’s okay. None of us do, but she still has pretty, bouncy, hair and that is also part of her charm.

Don’t mess with Fennec. Just don’t. Really. She will get even. I did not mean to drop a frog into her iced tea. I didn’t. I was distracted by a question from one of the ADs and next thing I know the frog I was about to eat was in that glass and whoo boy, was Fennec not happy about that. But she didn’t say anything right away. Nope. She smiled, laughed, and asked politely for a new one. The next day I found that frog in my bed. On my pillow. If you get my drift. Do not upset her.

Daimyo Fett is really great and tells so many jokes. They don’t end up in the show very often, but let me assure you that when a person survives a sarlacc pit they have a lot of jokes to tell you and you should listen to them all. Hilarious.

I think the cast and crew are brilliant and they treat me really well and I love them all. Well, except for that one assistant to the assistant to the assistant to the episode’s director. They know who they are. I don’t share those frogs. Not with anyone. They are hard to come by and I need all the vitamins and minerals in them to stay healthy. I don’t care who made that bet (looking at you Pedro), and I don’t care if you won (you didn’t), but leave my frogs alone or you will be finding gorgs in your bed and they won’t be resting peacefully.

Okay. That’s it. Whoo. Glad I got that out of my system. I hope you enjoy the vid of the very lovely Katee. She’s a lot of fun and is one of my favorite humans. This is the Way (through the fourth wall).

#calendar prompt a day #the mandalorian #grogu #din djarin #fourth wall

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independence1776 · 2 years ago

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Mando 3.03

I haven’t said anything about the new season here because I don’t have much of anything to say about it. I disliked the second season and am watching the third primarily for entertainment value.

That said, this episode = yikes.

Hate the Empire. Love Bo-Katan. Don’t like how the writer(s) are undercutting her to make Din look good. Love how Coruscant looks, as always. And is that the water ballet building from RotS? Amnesty Program = the GFFA’s version of Operation Paperclip. So the Empire actually had mindwipe machines? Will have to investigate.

But the New Republic stuff is all creepy. I don’t particularily want to feel sorry for someone who was experimenting on a child. And oh, look, an Imperial double agent. That whole thing I just said about Bo-Katan being undercut? That’s more or less a forced conversion. And I do not like it at all.

Seriously: saying that someone who doesn’t believe in the creed but bathed in the Living Waters and hasn’t removed her helmet since is therefore no longer an apostate, even though Bo-Katan said outright she does not believe in their creed (”But I do not walk the Way.”), and is thus a part of the covert is forced conversion. It doesn’t matter that the Armorer says that she can leave anytime she wishes! Because the next words are, “Until then, you are one of us.” So it doesn’t matter what Bo-Katan intended by jumping in to save Din or that the only reason she’s there is that her home was just destroyed. This is not a good thing. It is something that has been used against minority peoples and religions for millennia. I don’t know how the writer(s) are going to play this in future episodes, but I’m leery.

#not tagging with fandom because i don't want it in the tags #spoilers

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yamineftis · 2 years ago

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I’m sorry op but as much as I wish I could agree with you, that just ain’t it.

Din had promised to help Bo Katan reclaim Mandalore if she helped him save Grogu. They wouldn’t have gone their separate ways, because he made a promise and we know Din NEVER breaks his promises.

Would that have been cool? well yeah cuz it could have explored Bo Katan failing yet again despite having the saber, and maybe allowing Mandalorians to realize that sword shouldn’t be the thing holding them all together.

But instead the writers did a brilliant thing (at the time) in my opinion. First they made Bo Katan KEEP the dark saber information from Din. She didn’t tell him the importance of the blade. At the time I thought that was such an intriguing move cuz it showed me Bo Katan, while way more mature than her cw/rebels self, still had a bit of a power grab want, and didn’t want to SHARE the burden of leading Mandalore. So then, what happens? Din gets the fucking sword from Gideon lol because OF COURSE he would, he has no idea what it is and his only goal is to save Grogu. And the writing even implies it was Gideon’s plan all along! which again...brilliant!!!... At the time.

So now Bo and Din couldn't really be allies, he had the thing she wanted!. omg New development!!!.

Why would they do that if it didn’t mean any conflict between factions? Why did they write that if it wasn’t meant to progress Din and Bo Katan’s characters to realize more things about themselves? to ask of Din WHY the blade is heavy, to ask Bo WHY she had to put up with Mandalorians who care more about a sword than a planet?. Heck even include the armorer, who in BoBF seems to have some beef with Bo because she’s basically the reason the planet was obliterated. And no, sorry despite what others may say or what the season has tried to do, she is still guilty despite her good intentions, much like how Satine was guilty of not having the foresight to see Death Watch coming (and my point with this is that character should face consequences for their actions! not that they can’t be redeemed!).

The delicious conflict was there! But what did we get this season? a series of the most RANDOM events to give Bo Katan the saber back. They couldn’t even think of a way to disarm Din to lose the saber, he had to be fucking trapped by a random grievous spider kajshdskajsdska, the way they couldn’t make a coherent story through Din is beyond me.

Like, I was on the camp of making him Mand’alor because imo the best leaders are the ones who don’t seek power (and we’ve seen countless times through the series how he CAN make enemy factions work together for a mutual goal) but I was absolutely ok if Din didn’t keep the sword, so long there was some kind of arc for him to surrender his claim in some way. But no, nada, we got literally nothing for him, NOTHING. He redeemed himself in episode two and had to TRIP into the waters for Bo Katan to see the Mythosaur, and that only happened to make the armorer think she’s a chosen one kajshdkajhdka when she called her a cautionary tale before??? I’m sorry but there’s just CERO interest in conflict in this season and it’s so sad because conflict is good! conflict makes character feel like humans and thus it’s way more satisfying when they put their differences aside to fight a common enemy! Especially one as awesome as Moff Gideon, who basically wants to appropiate their culture for his own gains.

What did we learn about Din in this season? what meaningful progression with Grogu did he have? so far, only him making Grogu fight Ragnar, and it wasn’t even to progress his story, but to make us care about Ragnar being kidnapped so Bo Katan could show her “leadership” skills (seriously, the mandalorians were so incompetent in that episode, Din could have easily being the one to take the N-1 and have Bo’s role, cuz she was still kind of an outsider by then? but no, the “we have no ships” only applies to serve Bo and make her look good). All while the armorer made new armor for Grogu!...Armor that Din didn’t even get to react to!.

So, sorry but a lot of us are upset because Din is a great character and he simply has no arc in his own series. The marketing promised us something VERY different to what we got.

I haven’t finished. People keep saying that Din winning the Darksaber was a waste of time and bad writing because it served no purpose or character development and if he was just going to give it up to Bo Katan anyway they should’ve just had her win it in the first place.

They’re missing the point. The reason he won it was to expand our understanding of his character and some of you completely missed it. Instead of seeing the purpose of it, which showed us that Din doesn’t seek power or to rule, you interpreted the complete opposite and thought that was his destiny.

And if Bo Katan won the Darksaber immediately instead, she and Din would’ve immediately went their separate ways and the Mandalorians might never have come together but through Din winning it, it brought Din and Bo Katan together, two Mandalorian’s with polar opposite views on the ways of the Mandalorians and them coming together and Din handing her the Darksaber represents all Mandalorians uniting.

And the character development is them both accepting and respecting each others ways and the intention is showing their motives and what they desire.

#the mandalorian #no guys we aren't upset because the season didn't like we wanted ._.#we are just so ????? at the treatment of Din as a character #and how they couldn't follow up all the threads we got in the previous seasons and bobf...#mandalorian critique

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fandom-blackhole · 3 years ago

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*claps happily* Could I please get a 50 & a 81 with Din? Oh this is so fuuunnn~ Thank you so much!

Ngl anon I had to play with this mash-up for a bit, but I think I have a winner 😉

Sorry it took so long, but I wrote some of this on my way home from uni for the weekend and finished it today. I hope you like it!

Words: ?? (I'll check later if I remember)

Pairing: Manda'lor!Din Djarin x F!Reader

50. Arranged Marriage

81. The Missus and the Ex

Send me Aus/Tropes??

Din had given up on marriage a long time ago. It was a dream of his youth, one he'd envisioned over and over to the point he could almost see the faces of his children running around in his dreams. But with age and as life went on that wish faded and with every new situation he just, well gave up that dream.

Then Grogu happened, and he may not have had a partner but he had his kid and he loved him. His life had felt like it had been dragging, nothing really new, just getting bounty after bounty and taking the money back to the tribe, but Grogu changed that. Suddenly he had a purpose, to protect the small child in his care, and he did with everything he had in him. He fought tooth and nail to keep the kid away from the stormtroopers, away from Gideon and had succeeded until he hadn't, but he didn't give up. He did more, gathered his resources and fought everything and everyone in his way to get Grogu, to get his son back, and then he had him again. But he also had the darksaber and the events following all bit blurred together. Before he knew it he his son had been taken by the jedi to train him, he'd broken his creed only to be crowned manda'lor of his people, and swept away to Mandalore with a fuming Bo Katan.

Months later he still hadn't wrapped his head around his new life nor the responsibilities he now held, but he did what he could and he did what he knew to be right. He ruled fairly and for the people, making decisions that he knew his advisors may not like but he knew would benefit his people.

Then his advisors were blindsided him with the news that a marriage had been arranged for him and the daughter of an influential mandalorian tribe who was well liked by the general public and had neutral if not slightly positive opinion of the new republic. Din was floored. An arranged marriage? He didn't really know how to react, but it made sense, marrying this woman would gain some of the favor of the higher more influential clans and tribes that had yet to sway in his favor. At the same time his heart twinged and mourned the marriage and family had dreamed and wished for so long ago, now fading to never be as he solemnly agreed to the marriage.

The marriage was a very public affair, much to Din's chagrin. But he was also relieved when he learned that he would have the week leading up to the wedding to get to know his soon to be wife. The wedding had been taken over by his advisors at this point after they soon realized Din could care less about flower arrangements and what specifically color of red or black he would be wearing, so that meant he could take his time and really get a feel for how he felt about the woman he was marrying. And he had to say, he did like you. You were smart, sharp witted and pleasant to be around. You had no qualms with your beliefs, and even what the two of you disagreed on you both stayed cordial and just agreeded to disagree. You were kind, and cared for the mandalorian people and rebuilding Mandalore much the same way Din did,, and had even given him praise on some of his accomplishments and things he had implemented to help the people. So when the week was over, and as Din laid in bed the night before the wedding, Din could tell, that he liked you, and given time, he maybe able to even love you.

Much like he had assumed, the day of the wedding was all but chaos. He was woken up at an ungodly hour to start getting ready, and make a few last minute decisions on things he really did not care about, and the entire time, all he could think was that he hoped your morning was much more calm and less hectic than his own. The wedding itself passed quickly it seemed. Din was escorted onto a balcony first, his armor freshly shined, his beskar spear in one hand and the darksaber hanging on his belt, and his newly made red cape sat neatly on his shoulders. His people cheered and waved when they saw him, and cheered louder when he felt someone come to stand beside him. When he looked over, his breath was taken from him when he saw just how beautiful you looked. You looked every part the queen you were about to be, regal and powerful in your golden armor that was distinctly opposite of his own, but paired together your armors felt like they matched like two sides of the same coin. Even your cape was opposite his own, a striking green color that he felt was perfect for you.

You both swapped the mandalorian marriage vows, and Din's head advisor stepped forward declaring you to be the new queen, and as the crowd cheered, both you and him were ushered away back into the walls of the palace. Din didn't even get to say a word to you, before once again he was pulled away and you were escorted back to your rooms, now that the marriage was finalized, the ball was to start and Din once more was taken to "change", even though it was more of just switching to a more intricately embroidered cape with furs lining the inside. Then he was taken to the thrown room where he got the pleasure to sit and and listen to people talk to him all the while he waited....and waited....and waited... and...why were you still not here? It had been over two hours, the lunch was supposed to begin soon and yet he still had not seen you. Something panged in his chest, worry that something was wrong and his gut telling him he needed to check on you.

So, without even waiting or caring about what the person talking to him was saying, he stood and marched from the throne room, immediately heading to where he knew your room was situated. The closer he got, the more his stomach churned, screaming at him that something was wrong, something wasn't right, and when he found your hall and a dead guard with a single throwing knife in his throat, his heart stopped and he starting running. When he got to your door, he heard muffled talking, and he wasted no time bursting in and pointing his spear. What he found had his heart dropping, there you were hair not fully finished being done, but dressed in a beautiful gown that made you look like a goddess sent by the maker himself, but you were being held with a knife to your throat even as you fought and scowled, though relief flashed through your eyes when Din made eye contact with you. You're assailant though, only laughed an all to familiar high pitched cackle that had Din's face warping in disgust.

"Oh look pet, big ole Mandalore is coming to save his bride. You know, he's not all that scary, we used to work together you know, back when he was still just Mando."

Clenching his teeth, Din took a step forward, lowly growling out, "Let her go, Xi'an. Why are you here?"

"Why, how could I miss your wedding?! You know hun, Mando and I used to have a thing, and let me tell you he is great in b-"

"Enough! Why. Are. You. Here," Din interrupted as he stepped forward again, only to have Xi'an step back dragging you with her and digging her knife into your neck causing a drip of blood to fall painting your neck.

"Well, if you must know. You, my dear Mando, have had a hit place on your head, and I thought I'd try and cash in and see you again," she giggled out. Something in Din snapped, and before he knew what he was doing he charged Xi'an managing to surprise her enough to knock her hand away and pull you behind him, before headbutting Xi'an right as she was coming out of her shock, disorienting her enough for Din to slip behind her and lock the handle of his spear along her neck. After he had her pinned, Din's guards came in not long after and arrested her dragging her away as Xi'an threw a fit.

As soon as the two of you were alone, Din approached you and cupped your face, with his hand, his voice low and he asked, "Are you okay, mesh'la?"

You just nodded, so slowly Din reached up and took off his helmet, looking you in the eyes he softly he gently ran hi thumb over the spot on your throat where Xi'an had nicked you, "Are you sure?"

Again you nodded, bumping your forehead to his before grinning widely and looking him in the eyes. "So you think I'm beautiful?"

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Din Tags: @elinedjarin @shellyc9 @spideysimpossiblegirl @sydthekid1518 @phrog-seeds @pintsizemama @blackmarketmummy @badbatch-simp24 @startrekkingaroundasgard @djarin-junk @mindidjarin @hmarsattacks @littlemisspascal @pixierox101 @moodsare

Pedro Boys: @blackmarketmummy @djarin-junk @littlemisspascal

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#din djarin x reader #din x reader #manda'lor din x reader #au tropes asks #50. Arranged Marriage #81. The Missus and the Ex

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amiedala · 3 years ago

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SOMETHING DEEPER

CHAPTER 19: Nova and the Nothingness

WARNINGS: canon-compliant violence, descriptions of blood and injuries

SUMMARY: Din unfreezes, moves, pulls her in closer. His hands travel to the sides of her face, thumbs dancing across her cheekbones, holding her reverently. What was in his eyes earlier is gone. It was fake, a shadow, a figment of imagination, because all she can see is a supernova. A star bursting and dying, fading from existence. It’s her. Nova and the nothingness.

“I’m sorry,” she pleads, voice breaking. In her periphery, she can feel the vision fracturing, and Nova clings onto this version of Din until he starts to fade away, too. “I love you so much—”

And then, her own words come out of Din’s beautiful mouth. “Don’t throw it away.”

If you’re a newcomer, my fic “Something More” is the first installment of this story! <3

AUTHOR’S NOTE: with the UTMOST excitement, i am wishing you all A HAPPY SOMETHING DEEPER SATURDAY!!! i'm so sorry this is so late, but i hope it's worth the wait. more notes / health update at the end <3

Wedge flickers in and out like he’s buffering. It’s in his face, in the wrinkles of his forehead, in the set of his jaw. Nova can see so much sadness, even through the blue of the hologram, and her heart wrenches with the knowledge that she put so much of it there.

For a second, they just stare at each other. To Fennec’s credit, all she offers is one slightly raised eyebrow before she pours all of her concentration into navigating the ship. Nova swallows, afraid to speak, as if it’ll cut through the veil and reveal she’s not actually talking to him.

“Novalise,” Wedge says, finally, distantly, his voice tinny and distorted through the azure of the hologram, “how can I help?”

Nova swallows. She’s on the verge of tears. It’s building up, a tightness in her throat, a ringing in her ears, a thrumming in the hollow of her open mouth. Fennec is still pointedly staring at the control system as she catches into hyperspace, Slave I emitting a low hum before the engine catches up. She closes her eyes, squeezes them, and then looks straight into Wedge’s holographic eyes, refusing to run from her own mistakes anymore.

“Sparmau has Din and Bo-Katan,” Nova manages as steadily as she can. “She took them off of Mandalore when I was…incapacitated. On Hosnian Prime.”

Wedge cocks his head to the side. It’s only for a second, but it makes Nova ache with missing Din. “You were on Hosnian Prime?’

Nova swallows. “I—I made a mistake. Ever since I left Hoth, I keep making mistakes. I was reckless. I thought I could handle her alone, and I thought that I could stop anyone else from getting hurt.” She inhales, a shaky thing, and then finishes talking. “I was wrong,” Nova says, as steadily as she can, not taking her eyes off of Wedge’s flickering form. “The whole time, I was wrong. I thought this was only my fight, and mine to bear alone. It’s not.”

Wedge doesn’t speak, but Nova doesn’t try to talk over his silence. For a long moment, he takes her in, eyes roving over the scar healed over her eye, the fresh bruises she’s sporting, the amalgamation of Jedi and Mandalorian and Rebel that she’s wearing—all the armor, and all the places it didn’t cover. “You were on Hosnian Prime,” he repeats.

Nova nods. “Sparmau told me she would meet me. Alone. On Yavin.” She inhales again, ragged and cold. “I went there planning to kill her. I tried, with the twin poison dagger that Din got knifed with. But she must carry the antidote, or maybe she’s just been exposed enough that it wounds instead of kills. I don’t know.” Nova slides her hand into the pocket of her pants, feeling the glowing yellow outline of the Kyber crystal pulse underneath her touch. “I barely made it out of there alive. I wasn’t conscious. When I came to,” she says, running her tongue over her teeth, “I was on the Millenium Falcon.”

Wedge stares for a second before the hologram glitches. Nova loses sight of him for a blip, and when he filters back in, Wedge is dragging a hand over his face, tinged with nostalgia. “Leia.”

Despite everything, a tiny ghost of a smile flickers its way across Nova’s face. “Indirectly. She sent Han and Chewbacca to pick me up—”

“And bring you to Hosnian Prime,” Wedge finishes. He nods imperceptibly, the tiny jerk of his chin the only indication that he’s moving at all. “Did she—?”

“Train me?” Nova fills in. “Sort of.” She adjusts in her seat, pulling a knee close to her chest. It feels like safety, and she leans into her own touch. “She started to. She taught me more than anyone else has about being a Jedi.” Nova’s hand twitches over the stone in her pocket. “She also told me that the Alliance would want to help. That this is what we were founded on.”

Wedge seems to look straight through her. “And you ran.”

Nova’s heart lurches. Her cheeks flush with the embarrassment of it, the guilt. It’s the truth, and she can’t run from it anymore—literally and figuratively. “Yes,” she confirms, closing her eyes. “Yeah, I ran. Because Sparmau infiltrated my dreams and took Din and Bo-Katan. Do you know what kind of power it takes to kidnap two Mandalorians? I didn’t want any of you near her, but it doesn’t matter. I learned my lesson, Wedge. I can’t handle her alone, and I was an idiot to try.”

Wedge holds her gaze. “You’re not an idiot, Novalise.”

Nova swallows. “I made a mistake,” she whispers, voice too wobbly to sustain more.

Wedge’s gaze is so complicated. For a second, Nova looks up at the tunnel of luminance that hyperspace consists of, the giant domed window of Slave I ripping right through it. Fennec is still minding her own business, her shoulders back, long braid hanging off of one. Nova lets everything run out of her, like she does when she’s trying to channel the Force, but when she looks back at the hologram, Wedge is still staring at her.

“You did,” he says, finally, and there’s an edge to it, but Nova can’t quantify it as anger. It’s bigger than that, and loaded with more ammunition to conjure regret. “You did make a mistake. Your whole life—every second since you’ve been in this galaxy, as Andromeda and Novalise and everyone in between—has been spent around people who would follow you anywhere. Even if that means battle. Even if that means war. We’ve all been fighting in one for years anyway. It didn’t go away after the Empire lost.” He looks at her, head-on. “This isn’t what your parents wanted for you.”

That snaps Nova out of it, the wallowing. The name for the look Wedge gives her crystallizes in her mind. It’s not anger. It’s disappointment. “She killed them,” Nova hisses. “Sparmau. She shot them out of the sky.”

Wedge’s holographic face goes white. “What?”

Nova swallows. The flash of an angry flame dissipates, but she can feel it curling around her stomach. It’s awful, the weight of it. It exhausts her, ripping through and leaving her with nothing. “She told me. Showed me. It wasn’t the Empire, Wedge, it was her.”

“But,” Wedge starts, and something beeps steadily in the background. He ignores it, still staring at Nova through the hologram. “You were a kid. You had no idea you were even Force sensitive at that point, did she—”

“Choose me—or my parents—as an easy target, or was it calculated?”

Wedge lifts his chin.

“I don’t know,” Nova sighs, jutting her chin out to balance on her knee, the one curled in close to her chest. “She might have known. Had visions about me, before I became anything else. She’s Bo-Katan’s age, maybe a few years older.”

The mention of her friend’s name clenches in Nova’s chest. Panic pools over her before Nova can even clock what it is, and it seizes, relentless and pulsing.

“I can’t lose them, Wedge,” Nova whispers, a tiny melody that barely resounds in the cockpit of Slave I, let alone across the hololgram. “I was wrong. I was wrong for running. I was wrong for putting you in that position. I was being selfish, and probably childish, and I was so adamant about saving everyone that I left you all in the dark.” She swallows, feeling the familiar, endless pinpricks of tears leak in at the corners of her eyes. “I know it doesn’t mean much, after all this time, but I need to say it.” The hologram flickers around the edges, and Nova braces her hands around the edge of it, like that’ll stop Wedge’s image from shattering. “I’m sorry,” she whispers, a baby bird of a thing, finally laid bare.

Wedge softens. For a second, Nova can’t see the horror and the pain that’s ripped him through written across his face. His smile lines are more prominent than his frown ones are, and the valley between his strong eyebrows fades into the light. For this moment, this one gleaming second, he looks like himself—the boy he was before the war, the man Nova’s looked up to her whole life. It sends a shockwave through her body, and Nova shakes with the feeling of it, the memory.

“What do you need?” Wedge asks, and with those four little words, Nova knows he forgives her.

She lets out a shuddering breath. “You. I need your firepower. I need you to be ready to fight. I’d say bring the rest of the Alliance with you, because we need strength in numbers, but Sparmau has connections in all the worst places, and I’m afraid someone will come after Hoth.” Nova pauses. “I—I don’t know where the fight’s going to happen. I don’t know when it’s going to happen. But we don’t have time. Din and Bo-Katan—” Nova’s throat closes. She feels feverish and clammy with the worry of it. “They don’t have time. They’re not dead, because Sparmau needs them to get to me. But you saw Bo-Katan’s neck after…we need to be smart. And fast.”

Wedge nods, and Nova can tell, even through the hologram, that his shoulders are squared, ready for a fight. The projection casts everything a deep azure, but Nova knows that down to his bones, Wedge is outfitted in Rebel orange.

“Wedge,” Nova says, her voice raggedy, “I still don’t want to put you in dang—”

“Whatever you need,” Wedge interrupts, “whenever you need it. You aren’t allowed to be a martyr, Novalise.”

Nova swallows. “You’re sure?”

“I’m a Rebel,” Wedge reminds her, gently, “it’s what we do.”

“Thank you,” Nova whispers. The ship shakes through warp like it’s agreeing to her benediction.

“I’ll be on call,” Wedge says, saluting her. “You know where to find me.”

And as he clicks the hologram into nothing, Nova can feel a fight beginning to build up in her blood, down to her bones.

Nova sleeps.

It feels like respite, like a relief. She doesn't know how close they are to Tatooine, but after her conversation with Wedge, Nova’s exhausted. The remnants of the crystal cavern still feel like luminescence, electricity sparking up in her veins. Slave I doesn’t have much of a sleeping quarters, but Nova doesn’t care. She climbs into the crawlspace Fennec pointed to when she asked about the bed, closing her burning eyes and ignoring the double pyre of guilt and hope that are wrestling in her stomach.

In the dark, under the thin excuse for a blanket, blacked out on all sides from the absence of all outside light, Nova pulls the Kyber crystal out of her pocket and cradles it in her hands. It glows. It sparkles, shines in her hands like it was always made for her. The halo around it is pale yellow and glistening, like the weight of a million stars. The heart of it, in the center of the cut, is deep and warm, like the last rays of a Yavin sunset before it disappears and slips away over the horizon line.

She holds it like something holy. It is something holy. It’s a remnant, a relic from a time everyone has said is long dead. Knowing Luke and Leia and Ahsoka is proof that the Jedi aren’t dead, that they’ve just been hiding through the rise and fall of the Empire and in the beginnings of the New Republic.

But this is different. Holding this crystal, holding something that feels like an entire lifeforce—it’s more than Nova ever dreamed. She felt power when she stabbed Sparmau, when she picked up a lightsaber for the first time, the way she makes Din shudder in the dark, in beating Gideon and Jacterr and Merle, in surviving long enough for Andromeda to become Novalise. This is history, living in the palm of her hand. This is a connection to something so much deeper and bigger than her.

Nova watches it, the crystal, pulsing and flickering at her touch. In the peripheral emptiness of the dark, she can see the echoes of the Jedi in her envisioned cathedral, the strength and vitality that catalyzed in their image alone. It was like looking at saints, like swallowing sanctitude and metabolizing it. Nova closes her eyes, the glow of her yellow crystal still glinting, and she fades off into sleep.

For hours, days, maybe, Nova can’t tell, she exists in a dreamless nothing. It comes up and curls around her body, blanketing her into comfort she hasn’t felt in weeks. There’s no images flickering and pulsing behind her eyes, no call from the beyond. It’s just Nova and the nothingness, tied together by something inherited, something down in her bone marrow.

And then, as quickly as it melted into dreamlessness, a vision lights up Nova’s head.

At first, it’s benevolent. There’s the warmth of the sun dancing above her, the rays pouring down. When Novalise opens her eyes, she’s in the middle of a field of flowers, tiny violets dancing in the slight breeze. They’re lit up from somewhere other than the sun, Nova realizes, just like the bioluminescent ones on Yavin. She swallows, sitting up, running her hands over the slip of a dress she’s outfitted in, the same gorgeous, sparkling yellow that her crystal is made up of. Her hair is long and natural, curls rustling and lifting as the wind skates across the moor again, making everything organic dance.

Nova props herself up on her hands, squinting until her vision filters back in and adjusts to the brightness. It’s beautiful. That’s her first thought, and her second, and her third. It’s a sea of greenery, flowers and tall grasses and trees sprouting up off in the distance, their branches reaching as if to embrace their own. Something smells like a memory of home—the gentle sea breeze rippling through the air, the permanent flicker of engine oil, something earthy and fallow down in the dirt. If Nova didn’t know every inch of her home planet, she’d swear she was on Yavin.

She stands, pushing herself to her feet. The sky ebbs and flows with both clouds and color. It’s on such a detailed, minute scale that Nova doesn’t realize it’s happening at first. The color shifts from blue to purple to pink to orange to yellow to green and back again, but the pastel of the hue is so light you’d have to be staring straight up to notice it at all.

But Nova does. Her whole life is above, heavenward, up in the stars—looking upward is her standard position, her resting place. It feels magical, wherever she is. Somewhere as holy as that reconstructed cathedral, as the crystal cave.

“Novalise.”

The feeling of solitude—existing in line with the nature of this place, being forged from it—suddenly jolts in Nova’s stomach before it disappears. She whirls around, and there’s Din, in full armor, hip cocked to the side, gloved hand resting on the holster pressed against his hip.

Seeing her husband, the Mand’alor—Din Djarin in any capacity—makes Nova’s heart do backflips. It doesn’t matter how long she’s loved him, he still sparkles in the same way. He’s shimmering around the edges like he’s glowing, like something to worship. Nova makes her way through the grass, dress rustling up a melody as she walks. As she closes the gap, the sky above glimmers into pink, and Nova can feel the honeysuckle and sunset smell that belongs to Naator. She breathes it in, a fortification, and when she finally stands face-to-face with Din, all she can feel is starshine.

He steps forward, the rims of his beskar boots lining up perfectly with her bare feet, and Nova arches her neck to look up at him, to drink him in. Din sighs, low and thick through the modulator, and Nova can feel it rip and rumble through her body like the lightning before the thunder.

“Din,” she breathes, and then his hands are on her. Even in a dream, even with the entire world flickering around the edges, Nova can feel the full weight of it. His fingers, gloved and strong, notching into all of the places on her body that he’s made his claim. The palms of his hands, hefty and sturdy, grabbing everywhere Nova needs. The slight tip of his helmet, to the left and then forward, the visor dipping low enough for Nova to see her own eyes reflected in it—a stormcloud sage and a want rippling through them. She sighs and shudders, letting her body become loose and pliable. Nova swallows, heart skipping every third beat, arrhythmic and addicting.

“Where did you go?” Din murmurs, planting his left hand on her hip, anchoring Nova in place. She inhales, and his right hand grazes up her bare arm to stroke a line over the contours of her cheekbone. Even through the gloves—gloves Din’s hunted in, killed in—Nova can feel the softness of his hands underneath, their purpose, their intention, their desire. His thumb strokes over her cheek, delicate like a butterfly wing, and Nova feels her knees sag, weak under the intensity of Din’s touch. “Where have you been?’

Nova’s mouth falls open, and Din moves his hand off her hip, lighting-fast, planted into the small of her back. Nova’s knees buckle, and she can feel heat gather between her legs, wet and sacred. “I’m sorry,” she whispers, seeing her breath fog up against the visor, every single piece of beskar polished bright enough to gleam Nova’s own reflection right back to her. “I—I didn’t mean to disappear, I—”

“Where did you go?” Din repeats, and there’s an edge to his voice. Nova can feel his grip tighten so palpably it feels like they’re skin on skin, stripped down with nothing left to worship or hide behind other than the other. “Where have you been?”

Nova swallows. Her heart hammers again, but it’s not with the heat of Din’s touch. Even in this paradise, even in such a sweet dream, Nova can feel danger threatening to flick into her utopia, crack open its chest. She feels like she’s been spinning for hours and hours, feet twisting over each other like they did back on Yavin, when she was young and unafraid. Something feels like it’s obstructing the air around her, because as Din’s grip tightens, so does her throat. “I—”

It’s now that Nova realizes that she’s not just dreaming. Everything feels too real.

“Where?” Din threatens again, and the air bottoms out, leaving Nova running on empty with no oxygen to fill up her lungs. She can feel the ground she’s standing on flicker and decay, beginning to crumble around the edges. With one hand, Nova reaches forward, slamming her fist against the beskar. It’s futile, and it’s useless, but her vision flickers in and out, and Din’s hand slips down from her neck to her chin, a vice grip keeping her locked in place. “Where are you?”

And then the dream shifts. Nova gasps, falling to the new ground like she’s just been eviscerated, air in her lungs excommunicated and held away from her. She heaves, letting her depleted body fill back up on oxygen, and when the world filters back in, Nova doesn’t know where she is. She’s alone, at least for the moment, but everything is dark, dark, dark. Somewhere in the distance, there’s something dripping, a tap haunted by something Nova can’t see. She closes her eyes, the pinpricks of stars that shine with oxygen deprival slowly disappearing.

In her head, replaying like a song stuck on a loop, Nova can hear the echo of Din’s questions. Where did you go? She pushes herself to her feet, trying to get her bearings, staggering under the weight of it all. Where have you been? Nova swallows, dragging the back of her hand over her face. It’s wet with something, but she can’t tell if it’s tears or sweat or blood, and Nova shudders again.

Slowly, carefully, Nova steps forward. She has no markers, no bearings, nothing to navigate the sea of nothingness. She doesn’t know if she’s in a room or suspended somewhere else, trapped between two worlds.

“I’m you.”

Nova whips around, her spine rigid, but there’s nobody there. Her heart picks up speed again, her body chilled down to the bone. “Who are you?’

“I’m you.” The voice sounds so familiar, but Nova can’t place it. She whips around again, trying to catch where it’s ricocheting, but it’s impossible. It’s like she’s stuck in a vantablack echo chamber.

“Where are you?’ Nova adjusts, placing one foot in front of the other, freezing against the black floor.

And in the hollow of her ear, whispered in the darkness, she’s struck by it. “I’m you,” the voice breathes. “I’m right here.” Nova whips around again, but the voice gets closer still. “Don’t throw it away.”

Like pushed by a tidal wave, Nova gets knocked backwards, through the nothingness, through the dark, without any bearings to keep her aligned, awake, alive. She thinks she screams, but she’s not positive, and everything inside of her is volted and coiled tight, shedding and tightening at the same time.

And still, she’s not awake. She can feel it in the way that the world shimmers and shakes. She can tell it before she even opens her eyes, the unsteadiness of it. Nova’s been out on the water before, and it’s a completely different sense of unsteadiness. Space feels like home, the gravity of it, the absence of it. Her stomach turns with the sensation of being seabound, and she swallows, trying to get her bearings before she lets her eyelids flicker open, to invite her into the nightmare.

It’s not a meadow. It’s not a pit of darkness, either. Nova looks around, using her hands to feel for any trapdoors or tricks, but nothing catches.

It’s the Jedi Temple. Nova has no idea how she knows, because the architecture of it had been razed down to rubble the only time she was there, and this building is very much alive, but she can feel it in the pit of her stomach, the knowledge of it, the rightness. She spins around, trying to orient herself, but it’s as useless as it was back on Hosnian Prime, running for miles through the hallways of Leia’s chambers.

There are people. Nova’s breath catches in her throat, trying to match them to any of the figureheads up on the cathedral she was transported to in the crystal cavern. They look unfinished, and as she blinks, her vision filters into place.

They’re children. Nova trips over her own feet as she runs towards them, the gaggle of tiny padawans, trying to get there in time for—she doesn’t know what. But there’s desperation being pumped through her aorta, and she knows there’s danger. Every time she has one of these visions, fleeting, flashes of moments, there’s always a clock she needs to run out. And they’re real, all of her visions are based in some fragment of truth, so Nova skids to a stop just in front of the younglings, but every single one of them looks straight through her.

She can feel the panic. “Please,” she whispers, holding trembling fingers up to the smallest one, a tiny blonde boy who barely comes up to her thigh. “Please, why am I—”

One of them gasps, and Nova gets knocked off kilter, stumbling backward. The noise from outside this one preserved hallway starts filtering in, and Nova knows immediately why her panic set in, when it started, how it devastated her.

She can feel it, because someone else felt it first.

“Grogu,” she whispers. He’s so small, just a blur in the distance, separated from the rest of the padawans. He’s even tinier than he is now, the smallest ball of green and robes, his ears nearly twice the side of his head, his eyes wide and glistening. “Hey,” Nova calls, her voice trembling. “Hey, baby, come here, bug—”

The screaming grows louder. There’s a crackle that sounds disturbingly like a flame, and Nova can feel the children behind her buckle and cower in fear. She stands a step apart, vision darting back and forth from these tiny younglings and the son she’d give her life for, and with tears pouring down her cheeks, Nova rushes toward Grogu. She scoops him up, and he cries out like he recognizes her, even though it’s not possible, even though Nova’s not really there.

“Please,” Nova whispers, her whole body aching from the trauma of it all, the realness of it, how tangible this horror feels. In the distance, there’s the sound of a lightsaber igniting, and then a scream, and Nova can’t take it. Not after being dragged within an inch of death. Not after leaving everyone she loves behind because she wanted to protect them.

Again, the voice in her ear, the disembodied one that somehow belongs to her, whispers. “Don’t throw it away.”

It’s like a catalyst. Nova rushes forward, Grogu in her arms, barrelling towards the younglings. “Go!” she screams, her voice ripping through an octave, “go!”

They can’t hear her. Nova knows they can’t hear her. But the blonde boy seems to meet her eyes, just for a second, and he leads the rest of the padawans around the corner, and Nova hears a door shut behind them. It doesn’t feel right—like she’s just prolonging their lives instead of saving them—but it’s something. She turns back to Grogu. “I’m going—I need to get you out of here—”

Grogu looks up at her, his eyes so sentient, so alive, and Nova knows. She’s not here to save him. She’s not there to save them. She’s not even here to save herself. And she feels the lightsaber igniting before it even sparks, and she tries to suppress her sob under the noise of it, knowing what’s coming next. No one survives except Grogu.

“I,” Nova starts, her voice betraying her, “have got to get you out of here, buddy—”

And Grogu, in that sweet, infuriating way he’s perfected, silences Nova by touching his tiny hand to her cheek.

Nova’s catapulted backwards, through time and space, and then forward. She sees flashes of things. Faces of Jedi whose names she’s only heard spoken once or twice. The sandy moors of Arvala-7. The warmth of a planet she’s never been to, with children laughing in streams. Stars catching and exploding into hyperspace. Din’s face, unmasked, with tears in his eyes. Ahsoka’s lightsabers igniting. Glimpses of Tatooine. The feeling of flying back in the Razor Crest. The first time Nova used the Force for real, lifting his precious metal ball up and above their heads. Crying while leaving Dantooine. The gorgeousness of Yavin, the sunset above, the greenery below, all of it. Nova and Din landing on Ahch-To. A slice of fear while looking into Ben Solo’s eyes. Moving across the mountain in tandem with Luke. Din taking the throne back on Mandalore. Bo-Katan begrudgingly feeding him frogs. Nova’s face, her hair shorter, her eyebrow unmarred, her face covered in ash and dust from crash landing on Nevarro, and the feeling of home.

Nova gets jolted, knocking out of the vision for a split second, and she knows what Grogu’s trying to show her. Everything he’s lived, after everything he lost. There’s nothing there beyond his warmth, his vision, his love.

And when he pulls her back under, Nova feels something in her body relax. Because there’s Din and Nova, old on Naator, Grogu in the middle of the tangle of their bodies, looking up at the ever-pink sky. There’s flashes of them all on the beskar throne, holding court on Mandalore. Din chasing Nova through somewhere gorgeous, the air light and filled with laughter. Sharing spotchka and spirits on Tatooine, clinking glasses against Boba’s and Fennec’s. A giant hug from Wedge, Nova’s knees buckling under the relief that he’s her family again. Nova pulling a giant wave up and over their heads, froth from the foam dancing down like a protection spell. Din’s face buried in Nova’s neck, Grogu bouncing gleefully between the two of them. A feeling of victory, of moving on, of hope. Nova sees her face, and Din’s, aged years past ones neither of their parents got to see.

“Grogu,” she whispers, and then the vision changes again.

Nova cries as she comes out of it, but she lands in Din’s arms.

She looks up, heart still hammering from freefalling and asphyxiation and being stuck in someone else’s memories. Din’s in armor, his cloak Mandalore blue, but his helmet is off. His hair is shorter than the last time she curled her fingers through it. The mustache dancing across his upper lip is thicker. His eyes, brown and glimmering, dancing in the light from above.

Nova’s eyes meet his and ascend, neck craning back to looking upward. She’s in the cathedral. All of the Jedi, painted like saints, have faded, but the foundation remains. Everything is glimmering and golden and gorgeous, shining brilliantly against all of their silver. Nova swallows, turning around to take it all in, the feeling of standing on the dais, the feeling of being somewhere holy. It hurts in such a brilliant way. She can’t make it fit right in her chest.

Din steps forward, feet in line with hers, and Nova looks back down at him. One hand reaches forward to anchor on her hip. The other grazes up her arm, but this time, they’re ungloved, his skin radiant against hers. Nova feels the lump in her throat, the growing tears in the corners of her eyes. It feels cyclical and redundant and familiar and terrifying. When Din’s hand snaps flat against the small of her back, the fear rushes into her, coursing frantically through her veins. He pulls her close, and Nova prepares for the impact, for it to yank her away, but it doesn’t come. She opens her eyes, and with the lightness of a feather, Nova reaches up to cradle Din’s face in her hands, feel the warmth of his skin, breath him in, the mesh of cinnamon and gunsmoke and metal and cleanness sparkling like a drug.

“Din,” she whispers. “Din, I—I love you. I love you so much, it breaks in my chest. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry I left you, baby. This is my fault. All of this is my fault. I—I know that. I regret it, every second of it, tearing myself away from you, running when I vowed I wouldn’t. This is my fault. This is my fault. I need you to know how sorry I am. And how much I love you. I understand now. You leaving me on Dantooine and how much it must have hurt you. But what I did protected no one. It just—”

Broke, is what Nova meant to say. But the words won’t come out. Din’s staring down at her, eyes still alight, the tiniest quirk of a smile on his lips, preserved as if in amber. Nova swallows, and then she can feel it again. The panic she’s been staving off.

Din unfreezes, moves, pulls her in closer. His hands travel to the sides of her face, thumbs dancing across her cheekbones, holding her reverently. What was in his eyes earlier is gone. It was fake, a shadow, a figment of imagination, because all she can see is a supernova. A star bursting and dying, fading from existence. It’s her. Nova and the nothingness.

And then, her own words come out of Din’s beautiful mouth. “Don’t throw it away.”

When he’s gone, too, Nova screams, loud enough to shatter bone. She spins, her arm slicking through the air as if the nightmare will unzip and let her out, but all she sees is a mirror. Her reflection is a mess, her green eyes grey, her brown skin stripped of its warmth, her hair wild and undone from the weight of it all, her mouth trembling.

“Let me fix it!” Nova roars, watching as her body unhinges, everything shattering around her. “Let me out, let me out, let me go—”

“Oh.”

At the single syllable, Nova spins back around, and for a second, she thinks she’s looking into a mirror. Green eyes, brown skin, dark hair. But then the person steps forward, and it’s not Nova. It’s Ezra.

“Ezra—”

“There you are,” he says, stepping towards her. Nova reflects him, moving her left foot in tandem. “Where did you go?”

Nova, shaken with the unsettling crescendo of those same four words, falls backwards. Ezra’s hand snaps out to stabilize her, but then they’re both falling, unwavering mirror images still tumbling into the ether.

“Ezra!” she cries again, trying to claw her way up to him, to see if he’s real, or if he’s something she’s created, and his hand squeezes in hers. And then, unceremoniously, they reach the bottom of their fall, the slam of it rocketing through Nova, the whiplash the worst she’s ever felt. Her mouth falls open and something like the ghost of a scream filters out of it, and then she’s face to face with Ezra again. He’s pressing something into her hand, but Nova can’t look at it head on.

His dark eyebrows knit in the middle, jaw clenched in that familiar, determined way. “I told you,” he whispers, voice vibrating after the impact of Nova’s fall, “Sparmau isn’t the only danger out there. Where you’re going will be worse.”

“What do you mean,” Nova cries, everything shifting in and out of blackness.

Ezra materializes for a split second before he’s gone. The memory of him, the profile of his face so identical to hers, keeps burning on. But when his mouth opens, the words stay. “Don’t throw it away.”

And with a scream to rival an entire slew of thunderstorms, Nova catapults awake.

“Novalise!” Fennec’s voice isn’t dreamy and dilated like everyone in Nova’s vision. Ezra has been wiped away, his face only existing in the map of her memory. She shoves herself up, clumsily navigating down and out of the crawlspace, swiping furiously at the tears that have collected on her cheeks. Slave I isn’t big—it’s roughly the same size as the Crest was—but it feels like it takes her an eternity to get there, scrambling towards Fennec’s voice.

“I’m here,” Nova says, as evenly as she can, but the second she straps in, Fennec’s yell makes perfect sense.

They’re surrounded. Somewhere between when Nova fell asleep and woke up, Slave I must have been jarred or forced out of warp, because they’re in the middle of deep space, completely unmoored. Around their ship, in a perfect, even circle, are Empire-esque starfighters, sharp and foreboding. Nova swallows.

“How much ammunition do we have left?”

Fennec takes a split second to glance over at Nova, and in her expression Nova can see it. She doesn’t think Fennec Shand has the same settings of fear that the rest of humanity does, but she’s shaken. This was unexpected, and after the last time this ship was out in the air, it used up a ton of remaining artillery.

Nova swallows. “We can fight them.”

Fennec’s jaw clenches. “There’s fifteen of them.”

And they’re not small, a tiny voice in the back of Nova’s head whispers, a continuation of Fennec’s clipped sentence. They’re destroyers, clearly renovated and reconstructed in the years since the Empire reigned, but they still hold the same amount of danger. Slave I doesn’t have the manpower, the firepower, to take on this many. Not at once, and not when there’s only two of them.

“Did you try to warp?”

“Yes,” Fennec answers, sturdy thumb hovering over the switch. “Something is draining the force out of the ship. They must have a frequency that’s jamming ours.”

Nova leans forward. “How much?”

“Ten rounds,” Fennec says, taking stock without needing to look at the numbers. “The gun in the back is broken. We have nearly full shields, but that won't mean shit when fifteen star destroyers start firing at once.”

Nova leans back, chewing on her lip. She feels entirely disconnected from her body. They’re surrounded by something dangerous, but all she can think about is Din and Bo-Katan, where Sparmau is, and every voice in her vision screaming at her to not throw it away. Nova forces herself to stare at the star destroyer in front of her until she feels the gravity of the situation, and then something crystallizes in front of her destruction. “Seismic charge.”

Fennec’s finger rests on the trigger sticking out of the dashboard. “We have one left. And it's not strong enough for fifteen. Even if we knock out half of them,” she says evenly, “they’re still jamming our signals. We don’t know which ship is doing that, or if it’s all of them. And then we’d be stuck here without our biggest defense, and they’d fire.”

Nova feels her heart race. It’s almost a relief, the groundedness of it. “Okay.”

Fennec lifts an eyebrow. “We also can’t do nothing.”

Nova turns, looking Fennec dead-on. “I know who’s on those ships.” She swallows. “It’s either the Order or Sparmau, and they want me, not you.”

“Don’t even start—”

“I’ll hail them. I’ll let myself be taken hostage. You get out of here, radio Wedge and the others, and come back for me.”

“No dice.”

“Fennec—”

“You want to be a martyr, right now, when you have so much left to lose?”

Nova’s heart sinks in her chest. “I’m not walking in there to die. I’m walking in there to buy us time.”

Fennec looks her over, traces the silhouette of Nova’s face, and then something smart and cunning sparks up in her eye. “No,” she says, yanking something shiny from over Nova’s head, “you’re not walking in there at all.”

Nova stares. Fennec grins. In her gloved hands are a wickedly glinting pair of handcuffs.

“Would they believe us?”

Fennec already has the right one around Nova’s wrist before she answers. “You’re a Jedi on a bounty hunter’s ship. A famous bounty hunter’s famous ship.” She clicks the left one into place. “I don’t keep friends publicly. It’s our best shot.”

Nova nods, surprisingly calm. “If we both get caught, then what?”

Fennec hails the largest destroyer, squaring her shoulders. “Then we take down fifteen starfighters with our bare hands.”

Nova shrugs, the ghost of a laugh bubbling up in her mouth. “Well,” she reasons, running her tongue over her teeth, “if anyone could.”

Fennec Shand has a reputation. The second the cloaked men laid eyes on her, Nova could feel it. She commands respect from scoundrels and scares the life out of everyone else, sometimes including them. Nova hangs her head, trying to memorize the path that the faceless men are leading her down. A long hallway, and then a quick right. A long, gradual turn to the left. She’s made it her priority to look defeated so she poses even less of a threat. Behind her, the familiar click of Fennec’s boots serve as a reminder that Novalise is getting out of this one.

Finally, after two more rights and a journey through a clear, hissing door, Nova’s strongarmed through the vestibule into a plexiglass cave. She looks up and around, clocking the weak points, trying to assess what could be used to her advantage, letting the man on her left push her down on the antiseptic cot in the middle of the room. The cell itself looks remarkably similar to the holding quarters in the annals of the Mandalorian palace, and Nova’s eyes skate over the architecture, her shoulders slumping.

Fennec roughed her up a little before they made the passage. It was at Nova’s request, and she didn’t seem to take any satisfaction from it, but Nova clocked the ferocity that hides under all of Fennec’s calm, and she let Fennec’s hands yank out one of the braids at the crown of her head. Right now, she can see Fennec’s expression through the clear plastic holding her in, her eyes drifting to Nova’s sleeve and then back to the set of her jaw, her smile upturning at the edges. It’s restrained enough for the guards to miss it, and pointed enough that Nova understands exactly what it means.

Luke’s lightsaber was strapped to the inside of Fennec’s belt, but Nova has the key to the handcuffs. They glow from around her wrists, and she knows they were designed to restrain the Force that courses through her like electricity.

Fennec turns to the right, her expression easily morphing back into the untouchable she wears most of the time, and Nova narrows her eyes. The guards that brought her in, faceless under the dark of their robes, have left. There’s someone just around the bend, hidden behind the singular obstruction.

“I want my credits.”

“Relax.” The other voice is smooth, controlled. It’s higher pitched than Nova was expecting—everyone she’s met that’s been associated with the First Order, besides Sparmau, has been male—but this voice doesn’t belong to Sparmau. It’s softer, less jagged. She doesn’t seem to be rejoicing with malice and glee. “You’ll get your money, bounty hunter.”

Fennec lifts her jaw. “You owe us, after the stunt you pulled with Solo.”

Nova’s eyebrows furrow before she can stop them, craning her neck to try and get a better vantage point. It’s useless. Her heart hammers, a warning sign that this is deeper than it was on the surface, and something that feels like anxiety flips in her stomach. Nova trusts Fennec, even knowing she’s a bounty hunter, that she has next to no allegiance to anyone but herself and the guild she used to serve. She’s proven her loyalty more than once, but mentioning Han—it settles strange.

“You weren’t an us back then,” the other woman says, evenly. “I stole Han from Fett, not you. You and I are finally even, after bringing her to me.”

Nova watches as Fennec’s eyes flick through the glass to study her. There’s not a single slip in her expression, just blankness and disinterest, but Nova can see her eyes widen, her chin dip just a millimeter. It’s not a lot, but it’s a promise enough.

“What do you plan to do with her?” Fennec asks, without a singular shred of curiosity in her voice.

The other woman stays silent. Nova can see a dark cape hang off her shoulders, the deepest navy blue she’s ever seen, with the imprint of roses shimmering only under direct light, midnight blue and expensive. This is unexpected. This woman isn’t Sparmau, and she doesn’t reek of the Empire. She doesn’t seem like a bounty hunter, and her obstructed composure hasn’t wavered once. “Does it matter?”

Fennec’s eyes flick away. “No,” she answers indifferently, “but she’s far too powerful for the slave trade. Dangerous, if you use her correctly. I wouldn’t make her disappear. I’d use her as a weapon.”

Nova wets her lips, sitting a little straighter with the signal of weapon. Fennec’s still with her, the code rippling flatly off her tongue. When she leaves, she’s going to Hoth to pick up Wedge and the assorted cavalry. Nova sticks her thumb up her sleeve, and she feels it. Stuck to the fob of the key, so tiny she wouldn't have noticed it if it wasn’t pointed out, is a tracking device.

Slowly, dangerously, a small smile spreads across her face.

“Here,” the other woman says, and a bag of credits tosses through the air. It’s heavy, Nova can tell, even though Fennec catches it with ease. “Your credits.”

Fennec opens it to count them, but her expression doesn’t change.

“Extra,” the voice says, “to sweeten the deal.”

Fennec looks back up. “What do you want?”

The woman steps forward, but Nova’s view is still blocked. “Ask your boss to reconsider the trade.”

“He won’t,” Fennec answers. “He’s a bounty hunter, not a trafficker. He won’t touch spice, and he certainly won’t touch humans. I’m here, bringing her to you, because you and I had unfinished business. The Daimyo has nothing to do with this.”

Nova can see the traces of a silhouette as the other woman raises her chin. “A weapon?”

Fennec nods, with a cold smirk. “A weapon. Be careful.” She looks right back at Nova, eyes burning an unspoken promise. “She bites.” And with that, she turns on her heel and walks away.

The other woman finally steps into view. She’s regal, that’s the best way Nova can describe it. She’s taller than Nova is, her curves less pronounced, her shoulders back. Her eyes have a kindness around the edges, like she’s starting to soften from whatever depravity she’s lived before, and her lips are painted a bright shade of red. With a flick of her hand, the door opens. Nova leans back, trying to feign brokenness.

“Hello Novalise,” she says.

Nova squints. “Then you’re not with Sparmau.” It’s not a question. And Nova really didn’t think the blockade was Sparmau’s doing in the first place—it was dramatic, but not flashy, and besides, if it were Sparmau here, Din and Bo-Katan would be chained up right here next to her.

The other raises an eyebrow. “It seems we have a common enemy.” She doesn’t look overtly threatening, but the calmness of her response to Fennec’s insinuation of slave trading is far more sinister. “But no, you’re not here because of Ladmeny Sparmau. Although I am hopeful you’ll join our cause instead.”

Nova’s eyes narrow. She’s trying to stall this, drag it out, because a jailbreak at this moment wouldn’t be fruitful without Fennec and the rest of the assorted gang of Rebels behind her, but she’s still wasting valuable time. “If you’re with the First Order instead, my answer is an equally as vehement no.”

She smiles, her lips parting to reveal pearlescent white teeth. “You’re smart. But no, the answer is I am not the First Order, nor am I directly associated with them.”

Nova raises an eyebrow. “Yet you have me in captivity, like Sparmau, and you’re planning to use me as a weapon, like the First Order. So you’re hardly the lesser of three evils.”

“I,” the other woman says, finally, that smile still on her face, “am Qi’ra.”

Nova feels a volt of electricity through the handcuffs, and she suppresses a wince. “And you’re a bounty hunter?”

“No,” Qi’ra sighs, leaning against the doorframe. “Not a bounty hunter. I’ve had lots of experience in import/export, though, and you’re incredibly valuable in my line of work.”

“Good,” Nova says, “glad we’ve determined you’re not after my head on a platter to get credits in your pocket.”

Qi’ra studies her. “You don’t seem to mind being in the company of bounty hunters, though, do you, Novalise? Boba Fett, Din Djarin…” she trails off, and then she stomps a pedal on the floor, and Nova jolts backward with the shock of it. The glass pressing against her back moves, and she’s met with Fennec’s bloodied face. It’s such a shock, so opposite to what she expected, that Nova jumps. Fennec rolls her eyes, a nasty bruise already blossoming around her right one, and Nova whips back around to face Qi’ra. “...Fennec Shand,” she finishes. “I’ve spent far too long in the shadows of Rebel forces to not know where everyone’s allegiances lie. All it took was a few credits and a little cajoling to get the citizens of Tatooine to spill that secret to me.”

For the first time, Nova feels panic. She tries to swallow it down, but with the knowledge that Fennec is chained and incapacitated behind her, without leaving any sort of beacon or message to Wedge, the calvary isn’t coming. ANd they’ve already chewed through nearly half of Sparmau’s three days. Nova can feel it seep out from her chest, roll down her back, ice-cold. “Okay,” she says, as evenly as she can manage, “what do you want from me?”

Qi’ra looks back at her. Nova can’t quite get a read on what she’s thinking, and the handcuffs cinch tighter around her wrists, sending another spark out, rattling up her arms. “Have you ever heard of the Crimson Dawn?”

Nova’s blood runs cold, even though she’s not sure why. “I’m not joining you. But let Fennec go. Please—”

“I don’t want to recruit you,” Qi’ra says, holding up her hand for emphasis as she interrupts. “I don’t want to sell you into the slave trade either, because you’re far too strong to waste your life in servitude. But there’s so much more than just good or evil.”

Nova squints at her, lost.

Qi’ra sighs. “I’m not the bad guy, Novalise.”

Nova lifts her chin as the cuffs emit an even higher shock, reeling backward. “You’re not making a very strong case for yourself.”

“I wanted Vader gone,” Qi’ra says cocking her head to the side, “Palpatine, too. I orchestrated the war between the Hutts and the Empire. I let Han Solo escape once, become the Rebel I always knew him to be. I don’t want to see more heroes die. That’s not what drives me. But I have allegiances in dark places just as I have them in the light.”

Nova feels her body shaking. Her eyes flick around the room, trying to figure out what she’s missing, what other signs that point to hidden clues like the plexiglass behind her being smoke and mirrors. She glances at Fennec, who looks far more pissed than she does hurt, and Nova clenches her teeth together. “Get to the point.”

Qi’ra smiles again, a sharp one, but her eyes still don’t match all the darkness. “I want to make a deal.”

“Hmm,” Nova manages, trying to force the electricity back long enough to hold her ground. Her feet are unsteady under the shock of it, but she rocks until she’s standing. “I’m not very agreeable. I don’t negotiate with terrorists.”

“Not a terrorist,” Qi’ra says, spreading her hands out. She’s graceful. Elegant, even threatening. “I’m an opportunist. And I know you’re an optimist, so I think you’ll want to take me up on my offer.”

Nova closes her eyes, trying to fight off the residual shock still prickling and stinging up and down her body. “I want you to let Fennec go first.”

Qi’ra clicks her tongue and shakes her head. “No. Because when you hear what I’m offering, you’ll forget all about Fennec Shand.”

Nova’s anger flares. Behind her, she knows Fennec is likely looking indifferent, unfazed, and she’s staying that way. Nova doesn’t trade the lives of her friends for anything, no matter how sweet the deal is. “I doubt that.

Qi’ra presses something on her wrist, and a hologram projects upward, swirling through the invisible dust in the air. “I have connections through Crimson Dawn, you know. I have plenty of the galaxy’s finest warriors who answer to my beck and call. I’ve played for both sides long enough that I can break something wherever I apply pressure. And, lucky for you, I want to apply pressure in your favor.” She flicks at her hologram, and it zooms in. When it focuses, Nova’s heart leaps and catches in her throat. “Ladmeny Sparmau has your husband and friend held hostage on Coruscant. She’s planning to make you chase them through the planet, but I know her endgame. I know where she wants you to meet her, but I’m not telling you where until you give me what I want.”

Nova swallows. “How do you know that,” she manages, her voice as steady as she can make it, “when you said you weren’t with Sparmau?”

“Friends in powerful places,” Qi’ra reminds her. Nova’s stomach roils as she sees where Sparmau is—in the middle of the rubble that once was the Jedi Temple, Din and Bo-Katan lying unconscious at her feet. “She won’t kill them. She wants you more than she wants to make them suffer.”

Nova blinks furiously, trying to keep the tears at bay. “What do you want,” she says evenly.

Qi’ra doesn’t look gleeful. She looks rueful, like she’s disappointed it’s gotten to this point. “Fennec Shand. And Mandalore.”

Nova sighs, exasperated. “What about Mandalore?”

“The planet is in the middle of the Outer Rim. Most of it is abandoned and still burning from the siege. It would be the best hub for trafficking spice, since Fennec is so adamant that her boss won’t let it be dealt through Tatooine.”

Nova looks back at Fennec.

“Take it,” Fennec warns, voice muffled by the glass.

Nova faces Qi’ra. “You want me to surrender the rest of my home to your syndicate, and put Mandalorians through even more destruction?”

“No,” Qi’ra answers, “I want both of us to help each other.”

“Take the deal, Novalise,” Fennec insists, her voice slightly raised. She wants Nova to get out, to sacrifice her for the promise of Din and Bo-Katan. Nova’s heart lurches when she realizes Fennec—reformed assassin Fennec—is letting herself get sold into whatever Qi’ra’s running so that Nova can rescue who she loves most. “Take it. I can handle myself.”

“No dice,” Nova says. Fennec slaps what sounds like her fist against the glass, but Nova doesn’t flinch. “You want to live in the grey area, Qi’ra? This isn’t grey. This is sacrifice, and slavery, and the kind of thing I have spent the entirety of my life fighting against. I don’t care if you wanted Vader defeated and Palpatine dead. I don’t care that you used to run with Han Solo, and that you let him go. This is inhumane.”

“Nova—”

“Keep your fucking hands off Mandalore,” Nova says evenly, “but I’m yours. Take me. Let Fennec go, and take me.”

“Novalise.” Fennec sounds livid. She pounds against the glass again, and Nova hears it start to splinter. Qi’ra, for the first time, looks shaken. “You promised.”

Nova sets her jaw, ignoring the shocks rocketing up her body. She can feel herself weakening, and she struggles until she falls back down against the cot. “Let Fennec go, and don’t touch Mandalore, but take me. Use me, sell me, I don’t care.”

Qi’ra studies her like she can’t quite believe what she’s hearing. “You choose an assassin over your husband and best friend?”

Nova does her best to pretend that doesn’t break her heart in her chest. When her eyes close, her body writhing against the shocks, the sounds of Fennec pounding on the glass fade away. She’s back on Naator, pink skies iridescent and beautiful, a breeze rippling through the yellow trees. She’s standing with Din again, her mouth an inch away from his, everything else disappearing. She sees flashes of it, all of it—the lives they lived, the love they’ve held onto—and knows that if she doesn’t make it out of this, Fennec will go after him and Bo-Katan with the full force of the Alliance. Nova lets it all rush over her, every single memory of Din, of earning his trust, seeing his face, kissing his mouth, getting to worship and devour every inch of him, loving Grogu, the Force coursing through her veins, the faces of all the Jedi before her and the ones after, the fires and waters and the space in between, the feeling of barrel rolling through Kicker, Wedge’s embraces, Din’s lips on hers, grogu’s tiny hand on her cheek, and then, finally, her parents.

And right as she’s about to let the shock take her, shake everything that makes Nova the woman she is right out of her body, Din appears next to her. Ezra materializes next to him. Nova stares, eyes flooding with the tears she tried so hard to fight off, and they speak at the same time.

“Don’t throw it away.”

Nova’s eyes fly open at the same time Fennec’s fist punches clean through the glass, bloodied and broken. Qi’ra, shocked, stumbles backwards, and Nova pushes her arm against the ground, hauling herself back to her feet.

“Let me tell you something about me,” Nova manages, strangled, still fighting against the electricity determined to debase her. “I don’t make deals that sacrifice people I care about, no matter where my heart lies. I’ve lived in the grey, Qi’ra, with men that nearly killed me. I survived the loss of my parents, of myself, of nearly everyone I love. And,” she says, with a Herculean effort, fighting with every bone in her body to stand up straight, “I’m not a weapon you can wield. I’m not just a Jedi. I’m a Mandalorian. And before either of those, I’m Rebel scum.”

Qi’ra steps backward again as glass shatters around Fennec’s hand. Nova can’t look back at her, but she’s praying to every star above that Fennec is still conscious, or at the very least alive.

“Nova,” Fennec croaks, and somehow, even with her head splitting open, she knows exactly what’s hidden in her voice. “No martyrs.”

Nova raises both of her hands in the cuffs, closes her eyes, and wills the Force to overpower the electricity.

Luke’s lightsaber flies through the hole punched in the glass into her hand.

Qi’ra runs. Nova cuts the handcuffs free and chases her, but when her cape disappears through a hidden door, Nova turns on her heel and slashes through Fennec’s cell instead, trying to shoulder both of their weight.

“You think I have a flair for the dramatic?” Nova says, her voice strained and cracked, slinging Fennec’s slim hip against hers. “I’ve never punched glass with my fist, Fennec.”

Fennec’s withering expression doesn’t quite have the same strength it usually does, but it’s pretty damn close. “I told you we’d fight them off with our bare hands.”

Nova rolls her eyes just as the alarms start to sound, and they stumble back down the hallway, retracing the steps Nova memorized, running as fast as they can handle towards the gangplank. The rest of the starfighters are gone, and as Nova skids to a halt at the ede where gangplank meets space, she realizes that Slave I is too.

“No,” she manages. “No, no, no—”

“‘Scape pod,” Fennec slurs through a mouthful of blood, but Nova knows on a ship like this, there’s just one—for the person in charge. Everyone else is expected to be a sacrificial lamb. As if on cue, Qi’ra zooms past them, headed off into the wide expanse of space. Nova cranes her neck backward, trying to gaugue how farr off the guards are, but both she and Fennec start to collapse in on each other like dying stars. Nova can feel the tears gather and flood, looking out into the nothingness.

“Please,” Nova whispers, to no one in particular, dizzy with the aftershocks, failing to keep both of them standing. When she opens her eyes, it’s still just the blank expanse of space.

And then, like divinely conjured, two ships pop out of warp.

One is the missing Slave I.

The other is a very familiar X-Wing.

“You wanted help,” a voice booms out, and Nova lets herself crumple and cry. “Wish granted, rebel girl.”

Nova and Fennec slide to the end just as the guards start advancing, tipping into the wide mouth of Boba Fett’s ship, whisking the two of them out of the blast zone. In his X-Wing, effortless, Wedge unloads all of his artillery on the advancing guards, and Nova straps Fennec into the closer chair, stumbling towards the cockpit. “Boba,” she calls.

“Nope.”

In the pilot’s seat is a grinning, adrenaline fueled Cara Dune.

Nova cries, and Cara catches her with one insanely strong arm. “Strap in.” As they jump into warp, Wedge’s voice filters through the comm.

“Where are they?”

Nova’s head is dizzied, slumping back against the headrest. “Coruscant.”

Wedge is silent for a second, and then his reply cackles through. “I don’t think I’m authorized to say this,” he says, “but may the Force be with us.”

i've apologized in the end notes for the last three uploads for being absent, and i've promised the same amount of times that i'm back, just to disappear again. since January, i've had three kidney infections, one of which put me in the hospital with the beginning stages of sepsis. without trying to sound melodramatic, my doctor told me i was an hour away from dying. i've been recovering from the trauma from that whole experience, and i've also gotten two more kidney infections, which is why i've been so MIA and inconsistent. i am hopefully on the mend, and i'm praying to update every Saturday again, but with how sick i've been and starting work full-time, i've been stretched very thin. thank you all so much for your well wishes and love. i cannot even begin to express how much it means to me. i will try to update weekly, but if i don't, please check my tiktok (padmeamydala) and my tumblr (amiedala) for any communications of delay. i love you all so dearly, and i hope this chapter was worth the extended wait! <3

CHAPTER TWENTY WILL (hopefully) BE UP AT 7:30 PM ON SATURDAY, MARCH 3RD!!!

xoxo, amelie

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jate-kara · 4 years ago

Note

For the ask thing- temerate - to break a bond or promise - with Rex and ahsoka? Hope you get over your writers block

“I guess this is goodbye.”

The spaceport is cacophonous around them, brimming with beings from every corner of the galaxy. The noise is good, Rex knows: it’s easy to hide in a crowd, and even easier to disappear when you’re completely surrounded by other people who don’t want to be found. No one looks at you twice when they don’t want you to look back.

Ahsoka shifts from one foot to the other, then tugs her hood up so it covers her montrals and shades her face. “Rex?” she calls, a little uncertainly. She lifts her hand a fraction, letting it hover in that empty space between them as if she’s afraid that extending it any further would break the tenuous pact they’d made.

Travel alone. Stay in the shadows. Stay safe.

Alone has never been safe. “Yeah, kid,” he answers, anyway. “I heard you.”

Her shoulders sag. Her hand falls back to her side, vanishing beneath the folds of her cloak. “I know you don’t agree,” she offers, casting a furtive glance over her shoulder. They’d huddled in one of the port’s many alcoves, far enough out of the way that no passerby will spot them if they’re not trying, but close enough to the landing platforms that they can make a quick escape if the Force gives Ahsoka a surge of alarm.

“Doesn’t matter what I think now. The decision’s made,” Rex returns. His voice is low, but it still cracks on the last syllable. He curls his hand into a fist at his side.

His arm trembles.

Ahsoka tilts her head a degree to the left. Rex can just barely make out the sheen in her eyes beneath the shade of the hood. “You’ll be able to move more freely if you’re not traveling with me,” she reminds, an echo of the point she’d made when they’d had this same debate before: on that damned moon, with the bodies of his brothers buried a few hundred meters away; on Bo-Katan’s ship, in hyperspace; and then again after they’d disembarked and bought passage on their respective freighters.

Rex clenches his teeth so hard his jaw pops. “Like I said,” he repeats. “Decision’s made.”

Ahsoka looks down at her feet. “I’m sorry,” she whispers. Tears threaten the tremulous edges of her tone. She sounds, for a moment, less like the capable warrior he’s long fought beside, and more like the kid she is. “This is what I have to do.”

Skywalker had never been good at grief; he’d closed down. Rex wonders, for a breath of a moment, how much of that would live on in Ahsoka. Wonders where she’d asked the freighter to drop her off, and whether that grief would well up inside her until she drowned in it.

Wondered if he’d drown himself before her saw her again.

Rex takes hold of her shoulders and pulls her close. Ahsoka’s fingers curls into the fabric of his cloak. A ragged breath escapes her.

“I’m sorry,” she says again. “I promised Fives I wouldn’t leave your side.”

Rex gives a disbelieving chuff he guesses might pass for a laugh. Umbara haunts him like a distant nightmare, far removed from the hell they’d been swept up in barely a week ago, but he still remembers those first days after. Remembers a hand on his shoulder, and Fives’ presence, always close by. When command had pulled Fives for another solo ARC operation, he had somehow, in the cyclone that was reassignment, found time to track down Ahsoka and ask her to keep an eye on Rex. True to spirit, she’d squared her shoulders and sworn to stick to his side.

Jesse had told the story later, when Rex had come back from that warehouse with Fives’ ID tags clutched close, and no words to say why.

“Different times,” Rex says. “Fives wouldn’t hold it against you.”

Ahsoka’s breath shudders. “I wish I could thank him.”

Rex’s eyes burn, suddenly. His throat tightens. There are so many things he would say. I’m sorry. You were right.

You’re the reason I’m still alive.

“Me too, kid,” he whispers, and holds her a little tighter. “Me too.”

#captain rex #ahsoka tano #arc trooper fives #the clone wars #tcw #clone wars #don't tag as ship is2g #asks #my writing #thank u for the ask and the kinds words anon!!!

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tiffanypooh · 2 years ago

Note

Hi! Sorry I’m being late again. Lot of thing’s going on in my life right now.🙇🏻‍♀️

The Last of Us Spoilers

I decided to combine all the stuff about the show together. The finale is *phew* —— I wish the episode is longer. I really love the starting scene where Ashley gave birth and showed how the story got started from that moment when Ellie’s born. I just love it. Also Joel kept trying to make Ellie smile along the way is too precious.🥹 He’s really like her dad. Using his own way to make his daughter happy. Sadly they got bombed few seconds after they finally felt a bit relieved from the pun book.🫠😢 And the ending… nothing much to describe except it’s like the game… SAD.😥 I can’t believe it’s finished. I’m gonna miss it so much!

The Mandalorian Spoilers

I haven’t watched the latest episode but the first one is just too cute. I mean Grogu is another level of cuteness especially when it keeps trying to hug the mechanic. Also when he sneaks into Din’s arms. The sweetest moment on the show. I also love the fight sequence in 2nd episode and I knew it! I knew there’ll be the dragon under the water after Bo Katan mentioned it before Din jumped into it. Can’t wait to see how they’ll explain the dragon in the future.🤩 Gonna message you again after watching the 3rd episode.

Thanks so much for your kind words. A little update about myself, I finally got the official offer from HR this morning! Everything’s confirmed and my title will be officially changed next month.😝 Also I had my first Spanish class today and hoped I could get through this term till June.🤞🏻 How are you doing lately? 🙈 Hope that everything’s good in your life! 🫶🏻

Love you sooooo much too! Pedro reminds you to drink more water, stay safe and healthy as always! 🥰💜✨

Hello my lovely buddy! ✨💗 How are you doing lately?

Have you watched latest TLOU yet? It’s brutal, but as the game players, we knew it all along.🫣 Troy playing as James is perfect, though we all know what happened to him at the end.🥹 Only one episode left. Tell me what you think about it. Also can’t wait to watch Mando on Wednesday.😌

P.S. I wanna share great news in my life with you! I’ve changed my job position and its grading is a level higher than my current one. So I’m kinda like promoted! 😭🙌🏻

Hello! I'm sorry I haven't gotten back to your last message, life got busy, so I'm just transferring things here for the sake of ease.

MANDALORIAN S3E1 SPOILERS

I loved the premier! It was shorter than I was expecting, but it felt like kind of a set-up/clean-up episode so that we can barrel into the action next time. We got so much cuteness and hilarity that I desperately wanted in only half an hour, so I can't complain! I love that Grogu can cuddle with Dad in the ship, it makes me feel much better about his situation. 🥰😂 And I laughed very hard when he squeezed the little mechanics and Din is just like 🙈 I want to know how Din got into that little shop, as well. I'm so curious where the season is going with the Darksaber and Mandalore!! Tomorrow is a new episode and I can't wait!

THE LAST OF US EPISODE 7&8 SPOILERS

Episode 7 was so sweet and so sad. I loved Ellie and Riley together and the way the ended hurt. I can't imagine the guilt Ellie must have felt when Riley turned and died and she didn't. Poor thing. 😭

Oh my goodness, episode 8 was so dang intense! The way they made David even more evil and creepy put my hairs on end. But Ellie bested him in the best way possible. And Joel came at just the right moment to comfort her. It definitely did things to me the way he was finally able to call her "baby girl" after 20 years of not being able to say that. 😭❤️ I'm not prepared for the finale. I'm really going to miss the show and am thankful we've got Mando to help ease the pain.

AHHH congrats on your promotion, that's so exciting!!! You deserve it! I hope it comes with some great new challenges! Thank you for sharing that with me, I smiled so big when I read that!

Sending you soooo much love! I can't wait to hear what you think of our episodes this week 😍

#tlou spoilers #the last of us spoilers #the mandalorian spoilers #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #the mandalorian #the last of us #pedropascaledit #reply

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certifiedskywalker · 4 years ago

Text

Breaking - Din Djarin

Anonymous said: Hello, hope your having a good time wherever you are! May I request some mandalorian and the child with a gender neutral who wears a mask and fallows the same kind of never take it off rule? I just really like the idea.

AN: MAJOR SPOILERS for The Mandalorian, Season 2! Also, I stuck with the heart of this request, but I added a little bit more conflict and tension.

From the beginning, there had been one simple rule: never remove the helmet in front of others. In the earlier days, it was an easy rule to follow. Since you and Din were not blood-kin, you had separate quarters on the Razor Crest and never saw each other’s faces. While part of you wondered with a silent ‘what if’, bounty hunting killed any temptation to remove the helmet. If any client or target saw your face, it could be the end of your careers, of your lives.

However, recently, your heart had changed while the rule remained the same. While you had not removed your helmet, you felt a storm brewing in your chest. Grogu made it difficult and, as you had watched Din interact with the Child, your growing feelings for your hunting partner made it all the worse. You never imagined that being faced with a goodbye would hurt you so or cause the storm in your heart to turn into a swirling vortex.

“That’s who you belong with. He’s one of your kind.”

Through the dark tint of your helmet’s visor, you watched as Din held Grogu in his arms. You walked up to the pair, completing the clan of three. Din turned to face you as you approached, but quickly turned his attention back to Grogu. The Child’s big eyes shifted between you and your partner as if he were trying to memorize the gleam of the lights in your beskar helmets. You heart ached at the hints of fear in his eyes.

“We’ll see you again,” Din murmured. Even with his voice slight modulated, you heard the strain in his voice. Over the years you worked together, you had picked up on Din’s different tones. There wer small faulterings on each word that told you he was close to breaking.

You set a hand on his shoulder and squeezed. “We promise.”

At your promise, you felt the eyes of everyone on you. Din and the Child were looking to you with hope, even the Jedi rescuer dressed in black eyed you.

“Yeah, we promise,” Din echoed.

Grogu cooed in response and you smiled beneath your helmet. Then, a moment after, a wave of bitter sadness rushed over you. To suppress the tears that gathered in your eyes, you reached a gloved hand out to Grogu and brushed the backs of your fingers against his little green cheek. He cooed again and, when you pulled your hand away, Grogu reached out.

His small, three-fingered hand knocked against Din’s helmet. It seemed the little creature was trying to replicate your movement. Only, for Grogu, beskar blocked his earning for touch. Even after cycles of traveling together, the Child’s curiosity about what lingered beneath your and Din’s helmets persisted. Neither of you bothered to explain the Creed, the simple rule, to him. Grogu’s path was going to lead away from your both anyway; so, why explain it?

Then the mission changed. Then you and Din grew closer and grew attached to the little creature he held in his arms. For a split second, your fingers twitched up, ready to lift the helmet from your head and meet Grogu’s eyes with yours for the first time. Possibly, the last time; but you didn’t, even as you heart began to break at Grogu’s whimper.

You were about to tell him that you were going to miss him when, out of the corner of your visor, you saw Din’s hand lift. His finger gripped the end of his helmet and you turned as Din, your partner, removed his helmet. Your eyes widened at the sight of Din’s face; a face you had wondered about for years was finally exposed, stood at your side.

He had brown eyes.

Grogu cooed and reached his hand up again. He brushed his little green fingers across Din’s scruffy chin. Your heart shattered when Din closed his brow eyes at Grogu’s touch.

He had brown hair too.

Grogu seemed to be reaching for it like a toy. Wild strands stood on end while other were matted down by the weight of the helmet; the weight of the rule. The weight of the Creed. Din opened his eyes and gave Grogu a small smile. He had a nice smile.

“All right, pal. It’s time to go.”

Another whimper from Grogu was enough to force you to peel your eyes from Din’s features. The Child looked as if he were about to cry but you were too in shock to give him words of comfort. You turned your visor back to Din and hoped he would say something. The moment you looked, you were lost in his face again.

You had never seen a fellow Mandalorian cry. Helmets hid the face, fear, and smiles. Din’s helmet had hidden to you how much he truly cared. For, without his helmet now, Din’s eyes were rimmed with tears. He looked as if he were breaking.

“Don’t be afraid.”

Din bent down to let Grogu go. The creature stood then, between you and your partner, with little hands gripping the material of your boots. You tore your eyes from Din once more and met the wide, frightful gaze of Grogu. Part of you wished to reach down, cradle him in your arms, and tell the Jedi to kiss the wrong end of a Snarlacc.

But you were still too in shock, too caught up in Din’s brown eyes and breaking heart to do much of anything. You barely registered when an R2 unit whirred in and entranced Grogu. When you finally came back to your senses, Grogu was held in the Jedi’s arms as doors to the lift shut before them. Then, with Grogu gone, a new weight settled in.

You turned to face Din, whose gaze was already in search of yours. Worry was plain of his face. You were not used to reading it so clearly. Typically, you would have to study the walk he walked, leaned against the hull of the Razor Crest, or listen for the bite of his short tone. Without the helmet obscuring him, you could read him easily.

You wanted to be angry. There was one rule and he had broken it. Yet, looking into his eyes, you felt your resolve finally shatter.

“Y/N-”

“There will be time for talking later,” Bo-Katan snapped, her harsh order cut Din off. “We need to secure the ship and rendezvous with Fett.”

Koska and Cara took the order in stride. The two women picked up Moff Gideon and started towards the detention bay while Fennec busied herself with the navigation console. You nodded at Bo-Katan and turned your gaze back to Din. Concern still laced his features as you moved towards the bridge doors. As you went, you bent down and picked up his helmet from the floor.

“We’ll talk later,” you promised before you pressed Din’s helmet into his chest and left for a head-clearing patrol around the ship.

You had been on cycles lone bounty hunting trips with Din before. You had fought off a band of pirates and only suffered a minor concussion. You had, recently, faced a Krayt Dragon on Tatooine and lived to the tell the tale. However, none of those feats were as exhausting as Grogu’s goodbye or as taxing as Din breaking the Creed.

It didn’t help that the cots on the light cruiser, ones made for Stormtroopers, were terribly uncomfortable. You were used to cramped quarters and stiff beds but the slab of plastoid you rested on hardly constituted as such. It also didn’t help that you hadn’t found Din or talked to him about what happened in the bridge or Grogu. As soon as you laid down, you felt restless.

When you heard Cara come down, you sat up on your cot and eyed her through your visor. “Have you seen-”

“Cafe,” Cara said and she shot you a concerned look. “I know that the Creed is...is everything to you and...well. You both lost a lot today. Try to hold onto each other.”

In Cara’s face you could see a hint of regret. You imagined she was thinking of Alderaan, of all that she lost. Maybe she was thinking about a partner, someone special, she wasn’t able to hold onto anymore. You stood up and reached out for her shoulder. She looked to you as you gave it a comforting squeeze.

“Thank you, Cara.”

With a parting nod, you made your way up towards the ship cafe. It took longer than expected. Grey hallways of Imperial cruisers all look the same after a few turns and too-similar hallways. Eventually, you found your way to the cafeteria. It was hauntingly empty.

Save for Din who stood, helmetless, in front of the large viewport. He was outlined against the darkness of space and the shining of stars. For a minute, you considered not approaching him. The tension would pass, if you both let it. Perhaps you both could return to normal, normal as in before Grogu. You could easily leave the Nite Owls to take back Mandalorian by themselves and continue hunting.

Then you felt the storm in your chest swirl again, intensify. With it, you were spurred to motion and your feet began to move. Before you knew what you wanted to say, you were stood by Din’s side, helmeted face forward, staring out towards the stars.

“Where do you think he is?” Din’s question broke the heavy silence and you fought the urge to look up at him, at his face.

“Sectors away,” you admitted, “but safer.”

“You’re right.”

Then there was silence again. It seemed to press against your shoulders and make the beskar of your helmet all the more heavy. Slowly, you craned your neck and peered up at Din through the visor. You could see, through the clear port of your helmet, Din’s brown eyes were already on you. He was looking right where he knew your eyes to be within the helmet.

“I’m sorry.”

Cara’s words echoed in your head and your heart ached at the sight of Din’s down turned lips. Lips you had tried to imagine before. “There is nothing to be sorry for.”

“I broke the Creed,” Din protested, “not for the first time and certainly not the last. Not...not now, not when….”

Din trailed off and tore his eyes from you.

“I understand,” you continued. “I wanted to, too.” Din came to attention at your word. His eyes went on a mad search and studied your helmet for any sign of yielding. Of breaking. “I just, I’m not ready for it. You know, as a foundling, it’s all I’ve, we’ve, known.”

“Then the kid,” Din said, his voice soft.

“Then the kid,” you agreed, “and then you.”

“Me?” His eyebrows raised, a reaction you had never seen before from him. You couldn’t help but smile from beneath your helmet.

“You.”

You reached over and pulled the glove from your right hand. Carefully, as if reaching out to a wounded animal, you lifted your bare hand to Din’s face. For a split second, he pulled away. Then, moments after, he leaned into your warm touch. Din’s eyes closed and, with a deep breath in, you relaxed along with him.

“I’m not up to breaking just yet,” you said as you brushed your thumb along the scruff of his cheek. “But I hope you’ll be with me when I do.”

You jumped when Din’s hand, also ungloved, reached up to hold your own. His skin was warm, warmer than you ever imagined, and softer too. The touch was enough to ease the storm in your heart, to calm you. Din’s eyes opened and he met your gaze through your visor.

“I will. This,” he tapped one of his fingers against the back of your hand, “is the way.”

And you believed him, in that moment, this was a creed he would not bend. An oath, to you, that Din would not break.

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cora-vizsla · 4 years ago

Text

The Kings Pet (4)

Rating: Explicit (18+)

Word Count: 5.3K

Warnings: Angst. Like this entire thing is angst. Feelings of loss. Kidnapping. Drugged (not in great detail). Unwanted sexual advances (nothing happens and no one is hurt or touched but it is presumed it would have happened if reader wasn’t a badass). Boba Fett doing what Boba Fett does. Cannon typical violence (reader can hear it happening but doesn’t see anything). Nothing super gory. Sex. Unprotected sex (established relationship). Fluff.

A/N: There is talk of a new character wanting sexual contact with reader that she does not reciprocate. Nothing happens and it is stopped long before it could happen. Boba Fett loses his absolute shit and beats the hell out of someone but reader does not see it. I tried to write this in a way that would get the point across without being too graphic. There is a LOT of angst in this. Please be prepared for that! If you aren’t sure if this would trigger you or upset you, please feel free to send me a message or ask and we can discuss it. I don’t want anyone to feel uncomfortable! As always, if there are any warnings I miss please let me know!

Things felt different after your time with Boba and Fennec. You couldn’t really attribute it to the actual sex aspect of things because Fennec had always been physically close to you. She still pulled you onto her lap or sat on the arm of the throne and played with your hair. It was hard to admit but no one but you were really acting any differently.

Nothing physically had changed but you felt different. You woke up in the mornings and went through your normal routine. You ended up on the floor on your pillow, but you found yourself afraid to lean on your king’s leg. You could feel him looking at you, but he never asked what was wrong. You figured it didn’t matter as long as you were doing what he wanted of you. You still slept in his bed and whenever he wanted something you were more than enthusiastic. It was the only time you felt like you were actually worth much to him.

The days passed as they normally did. Boba stayed home more healing from his injuries. Din came to visit and update the king on what was happening with Bo Katan. The more you heard about her the more you disliked her. She seemed stuck up and you hoped you didn’t need to meet her. Not that you would ever say that since it wasn’t up to you who walked into Boba’s palace.

Din looked at you often, but you didn’t move. He asked you questions every now and then, truthfully trying to be friendly, but you never had much to say. You’d answer his questions in a nice way, but you could feel there wasn’t much behind your words. He seemed to notice when he would sigh and give up trying to talk to you.

What made it worse was when Boba and Din started speaking only in Mando’a around each other. You were never sent away but they stopped using basic. You would have been able to understand even huttese but their native language was far too complicated and foreign to you. You did glance up when you heard Boba say mesh’la and occasionally Din would motion towards you. The fear and idea of Boba not wanting you anymore kept you silent and unwilling to even ask what was going on.

The moment you realized he was done with you was when he commanded you to leave the throne room. New guests had come in and he immediately told you to leave. It startled you but you obeyed immediately. Fennec didn’t even watch you walk by and it shattered your heart. You were so busy being hurt that you had missed the way he had tensed when they walked in. You had missed the threatening demeanor and the way that the guest leered at you. All you could focus on was the fact he didn’t want you.

Later that day Boba stormed into the room and said he was leaving. You stayed curled up on the bed and gave him a weak nod. He looked at you but made no move to touch you.

“When I return, we need to talk.”

“Yes sir.”

Tears slipped from your eyes when he left the room, wearing all of his gear. Fennec came in and checked on you a few times, but you didn’t speak to her other than to let her know that you were fine and didn’t need anything. You couldn’t bear to look at her knowing that soon you would be gone. You silently cried until there was no way you could anymore.

It was late, definitely dark already, before you climbed out of bed. You walked into the empty throne room and ran your fingers across the seat the man you cared so much about sat on every day. You would miss more than anything just being close to him. You sat on your pillow and leaned back against the cool material behind you.

“I’m going to miss you, Boba.”

You whispered the words but jumped when you heard a laugh come from the stairs entering the room. You stood up as three men walked in, hands on their blasters. You tried to pinpoint who they were, but you couldn’t figure out where you had seen them before.

“Did the king leave his little pet all alone?”

“It sure looks like it, doesn’t it?”

“Poor little pet. Do you need company?”

You stiffened and their voiced flooded back into your memory. They were the men that came in when Boba sent you away. You glanced over at the side to see if Fennec was near but whipped your head back towards the men when you heard a blaster click. It was pointed directly at you.

“Don’t do something stupid, doll face. If you do anything other than breathe and what we tell you to do, Boba Fett will find you dead on the floor when he comes back.”

They had been slowly moving towards you, hunting their prey. When they got close enough, the one to your left grabbed you and pulled you off the raised floor you were on. You yelped when you crashed to the floor and he laughed at you.

“I can see why he keeps you. You are a beautiful little thing on your knees.”

“Shut up. We need her in one piece. Cuff her and let’s go.”

“Alright, boss. Whatever you say.”

He hooked your arm and twisted it behind you, hooking binders to your wrist. He did the same with the other arm right after. You stumbled when he pulled you forward, trying to resist as much as you could.

“We don’t have time for this.”

You felt a sharp prick on your neck, and everything went dark.

---

Your eyes started to flutter open and you groaned. Your hands were still bound behind your back, but you were laying on your stomach. The mattress below you was dirty and you grimaced that your face was touching it. With a grunt you twisted so you could sit up.

“Finally awake. Thought maybe we had killed you.”

You looked over to your captors sitting at a small round table playing cards. The entire room was dark and cold. It still felt dry, so you wondered if you were underground somewhere on Tattooine.

“How long was I asleep?”

“Day or so. My associate gave you far too much sedative.”

You shivered at the memory of the needle hitting you. You shift your body so you could lean back against the wall and keep most of the pressure off your arms. You looked down at the chain hooked to the bracers that was firmly anchored into the wall. There wasn’t much chance of getting away.

“Why did you take me?”

The one who kept answering you scoffed and looked at you incredulously.

“You’re Boba Fetts property. When he comes looking for you, he will have to pay. Do you know how many credits we can get for the Kings pet?”

You felt your chest deflate and he noticed.

“What?”

“He was about to kick me out. He didn’t want me anymore. No one will come looking for me.”

You looked down at your knees and felt tears sting your eyes again.

“Well, we will give it a few days. If he doesn’t; you’ll still fetch a pretty penny to the right buyer.”

You curled into yourself knowing that no one would be rescuing you. You had accepted that you needed to leave but you weren’t planning on being sold off. You wished you had opened up to Din more. Maybe he would have looked for you if you hadn’t been such a pain in the ass. Fennec too. Boba didn’t want you but maybe the other two would have a shred of decency for you.

You cried while you sat and listened to them talk. They switched from basic to Huttese even though you knew it. You didn’t let them know that you knew they were going to sell you to a Hutt if Boba didn’t find you. The Hutt’s hated Boba with a passion for not stopping Jaba from getting killed so they would be thrilled to own his pet. They just weren’t going to tell them that he had already grown bored of you.

Once night fell, they decided to take turns staying up to make sure you didn’t try to break your chain. The first one was the one who had drugged you. You didn’t like how he leered at you or some of the comments he made about your legs. Though you fought it, you finally started to fall asleep. You startled awake when you heard him walking closer to you.

“Calm down, doll face. We don’t want the other guys coming out, right?”

You nodded and bit back your anger. You were fine with Boba owning you because you loved him. It was an agreement, not something being forced on you. You stomach churned thinking about anyone else touching you. As soon as he got close enough, you smashed your forehead into his nose. It hurt like hell but the blood pouring from his now broken nose was satisfying.

“You bitch!”

He backhanded you hard enough for you to taste copper in your mouth. You spit the blood in his face, and he reared back just in time for the other guys to run out.

“What the fuck are you doing!? Are you kidding me!?”

They yanked him away. One dragged him back towards where the rooms were, and their leader grabbed your chin to check your face out.

“Is that your plan now? Let your guys rape me until someone buys me?”

“Fuck. He wasn’t.. what he did wasn’t acceptable. For that I am sorry. I’ll deal with him.”

“You’re all lucky Boba isn’t looking for me. He doesn’t like people touching what is his.”

His face paled slightly as he cleaned up your face. You had a cut on your face, and it felt like you were going to have a black eye from the headbutt. Once he was done cleaning you up, he walked away and shouting ensued from the back rooms. You finally fell asleep hoping that no one would touch you.

---

You woke up to loud noises and blaster fire. You curled into yourself hoping no stray shot would hit you. There was a loud thud and yelling, telling no one to move. You flinched when heavy footsteps got closer and a hand grabbed your arm.

“Hey, hey. It’s me.”

You looked up to see Din kneeling in front of you. He unhooked the bracers quickly letting you rub at your wrists. He looked at them then up at your face. You winced when he gently grabbed your chin and moved your face to look at the damage.

“Is she okay?”

You winced again at the gravelly voice you knew to be Boba’s. Din looked back at him and shook his head.

“She’s hurt.”

“What the fuck did you do to her?”

You saw that the two left were the ones working for the one presumably dead on the floor. The one you had the least interaction with tried to explain but Boba shot him before he could say much. He stalked forward and grabbed the one who had tried to hurt you and slammed him against the wall.

“Answer me. Now.”

“Nothing. Tried to use her for what she’s good for but the stupid bitch headbutt me.”

“What she’s good for?”

Boba’s head tilted just slightly to the right. The man in front of him had no idea just how dangerous that was.

“Figured since she was known for you being your little slut you had her trained right. Guess not.”

Boba growled and grabbed him by the throat.

“She is mine.”

You winced when the crack of bone rang out in the small room as his face was met by a fist. He continued punching him over and over. A sob slipped through your lips and Din pulled you to him.

“Don’t look. Hold onto me and I’ll get you out of here.”

The silver Mandalorian wrapped his arms around you and carried you out of the room as Boba continued to beat on the man who presumably would have raped you if given the chance. You desperately wanted to get the sickening sound out of your head, so you focused in on Dins voice.

“Did he?”

“No. I fought back, and the other guys pulled him away. It wasn’t.. it wasn’t their plan.”

Once you were outside Din set you down and knelt in front of you, inspecting your injuries more thoroughly. You hissed when his fingers touched too close to your wounds and he huffed a sigh.

“Fennec should have medical supplies to take care of you. Once Boba-“

You both looked over at the sound of his spurs got closer. His shoulders were taught, and you shivered at the blood he had spattered on the front of his armor. He looked down at you, so you averted your eyes quickly. He balled his fists and started walking.

“Time to go back.”

Din helped you to your feet and you clung to his arm. Your legs weren’t hurt but they were cramping from sitting for too long. You pushed through and all three of you climbed into Slave I. No one spoke a word on the short flight back to the palace. When the ramp descended Fennec was waiting. She huffed out a sigh of relief when she saw you, but Boba quickly got in her face.

“This is your fault. You had one job and it was to protect her until I got back.”

“I-it was my fault. Boba, it wasn’t anything that Fennec did. I walked-“

He whipped around and pointed at you effectively shutting you up.

“We will speak later. This has nothing to do with you.”

You wrapped your arms around yourself and walked around them, heading into the palace. You heard Din’s feet behind you, but you stopped. You had no idea where you were going. Boba had been wanting to tell you to leave, that much you knew. You knew it deep in your soul. You didn’t feel right going to his room and Fennec was going to be furious at you.

“Why don’t you sit down, and I can take care of that cut?”

“I’m fine but thank you.”

Din said your name, your real name, and you turned to look at him.

“You need your wounds looked at. Let me do it. Please.”

You finally nodded and he led you over to the raised floor by the throne. He stood to your side by your knees and gently pat at the cut on your face with the medical supplies that had been sitting there. You started crying so he stopped quickly.

“Did I hurt you?”

“No. Sorry. No. It wasn’t anything that you did. I.. I’ll be fine.”

He hesitated but started cleaning the cut again.

“The bruise is going to be nasty. You headbutt him?”

“I didn’t want him to touch me and my hands were tied.”

“I’m not chastising you. It’s impressive. My headbutts usually leave me less damaged. Maybe I need to get you a helmet.”

You gave him a teary laugh and smiled.

“I don’t have any bacta but I think you’ll be okay. Shouldn’t scar as long as you take care of it.”

“Thanks, Din.”

“You’re welcome. Is there anything I can do?”

You looked up at him and took a deep breath.

“If.. When Boba.. will you take me with you? I don’t care if you drop me off on a random planet I just.. I can’t be out on my own on Tattooine again.”

“You don’t want to be here?”

“Of course I want to be here but.. He’s going to tell me to leave. Especially now. He wasted his time looking for me when he had so many other things to do. He’s saved my life twice now.”

“If he didn’t want to look for you, he wouldn’t have. What is this about?”

“He thinks.. he thinks I’m only here to use him. You heard what he said. He thinks I’m only here because I benefit from it. He keeps Fennec here to make sure I don’t run. He doesn’t trust me and he.. he doesn’t want me the way I want him.”

You hiccupped a sob and covered your mouth, trying to calm yourself down.

“When he was hurt you mean? I told you not to take that personally. He was injured and scared.”

“No. He keeps Fennec here all the time. Even before that. It’s so I don’t run.”

“Is this why you’ve been so quiet lately? Boba thought he did something wrong.”

“What? No! No I just.. everything he did I could tell that he was getting tired of me.”

Din stood up tall and looked down at you. Boba was making his way down the stairs and walked directly to you. You clenched your jaw at the blood all over him and shivered. He grabbed your chin more gently than you expected and looked at the bruises and cut.

“I cleaned them up for her. I don’t have any bacta.”

“I just sent Fennec for some”

He picked up your hands and looked at your wrists, swearing under his breath.

“You need rest. Go lay down.”

“I-I’m okay.”

“I’m not asking.”

He looked down at you but with his helmet on you weren’t sure just how angry he was. You slipped off the ledge you were sitting on and went back to the bedroom. You heard the two of them starting to speak in Mando’a and you wished desperately you knew what they were saying. Once you were in the bedroom you sat on the edge of the bed and sighed. The entire room smelled like him and it hurt knowing you soon wouldn’t be there anymore. Your mind was racing and the last thing you wanted to do was sleep.

“I told you to lay down.”

You jumped at the voice and saw Boba with his helmet off leaning against the doorway.

“S-sorry.”

He pulled his armor off and set it down before walking to you. He knelt down and moved so he was between your knees. He put his hands on your thighs and you internally cursed knowing he would feel how much you were shaking.

“Tell me what happened.”

“I.. I went into the throne room for.. they came in and held a blaster to me. It was late and Fennec was already asleep. It wasn’t her fault please don’t be mad-“

“What happened next?”

“They put the binders on me behind my back and when I tried to stop them from taking me, they gave me drugs. I don’t know what they were, but I was out for almost a day they said. They laughed and said they thought they killed me.”

Boba growled and tensed his hands slightly.

“What next?”

“They told me that you would pay for me. They were just waiting for you to get ahold of them and pay whatever fee they named. But I told them that you wouldn’t be coming to find me so they started finding a Hutt that would buy me instead.”

“Why wouldn’t I have come to get you?”

“I.. I know that you’ve grown tired of me and I’m becoming more of a-“

“Who said that?”

He snapped at you and you shrunk away from him. He grabbed your chin and forced you to look at him.

“Who told you that?”

“N-no one. I could see it. When you were hurt you.. you said that you knew I was only here because of what you could give me. Fennec is here to keep me from running. I owe you and I can never give you enough to repay that. Now you’ve saved me again and I have nothing to give you. You don’t even trust me not to bolt out the door.”

He fell silent and tears started falling again. He said your name gently and motioned for you to look at him fully.

“I never should have said that to you. Mesh’la, I don’t think you’re going to run. It’s what I fear. I fear that one morning I will wake up and you will be gone. I will not hold you against your will and I fear that you stay because you do feel like you owe me. You owe me nothing.”

“W-what?”

“Oh, you silly girl. I care for you very deeply. Your insecurities are not one sided. I often find myself wondering why such a beautiful woman would want to stay with a scarred old man like me.”

“Boba, you mean everything to me. I just want to make you happy and be by your side. You started talking to Din in Mando’a and then sent me away so I thought..”

“We were speaking of you. We were trying to figure out how to talk to you. Din tried but you were so shut off he didn’t think he was making progress.”

“You’ve never sent me away before.”

“I knew they were trouble. And they were. They took you from me.”

He cupped both sides of your face gently and gave you a gentle smile.

“If it is your wish to leave, I will not stop you though I would be devastated to see you go. However, no one will ever take you from me. I will scour the galaxy to find you and keep you safe. Do you understand me?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I gave those men mercy for killing them quickly. Well, two of them at least.”

“The one you beat was the one that want to...”

“I know, mesh’la. I am so sorry you had to go through that. He will never touch you again. No one will unless it’s what you want.”

You nodded at him, still nervous to look him directly in the eyes. He pulled you to his chest and held you tight. You tentatively wrapped your arms around him in return.

“Did I scare you?”

“What?”

“When I hurt them. Did I scare you?”

“A little. Just the sound.”

“The sound?”

“I could hear his bones snapping.”

“Sounded satisfying to me.”

You looked up at him with a skeptical look, so he laughed at you.

“I am not a soft man, mesh’la. I will always do what it takes even if that means killing. They were not the first and they will not be the last.”

“I know. I just didn’t expect you to kill for me.”

“There are very few I wouldn’t kill for you.”

“Are you mad at Fennec?”

He sighed and moved to sit down next to you. Once he did, he pulled you, so you were straddling him.

“Yes. She should have stayed in here with you. We all could tell something was wrong. She thought you were upset with her.”

“Why would I be upset with her? She’s been nothing but kind to me.”

“You started acting different after you let her touch you.”

You felt your face flush and shook your head.

“No. I wasn’t ever upset about that. It was because I thought you wanted me to leave.”

“Never.”

“Then what did you want to talk about?”

“I was going to ask you if you wanted to be here. I didn’t know what else to do. I couldn’t stand seeing you so unhappy.”

“Oh.”

“My sweet girl, I am so sorry that my actions made you believe I didn’t want you to be here. When I have to go you are what keeps me coming back. You are one of the very few things that have brought me happiness in my very dark life.”

He kissed you more gently than he ever had before. You sighed and finally let yourself melt into his arms. You knew that you had been keeping yourself away from him for the most part but even before that, he never showed that much passion or care when he would touch you. It was more than you ever could have hoped for.

“You may be my pet, my princess, but you hold so much power over me. I can’t promise you an easy life, but I will always make it as enjoyable for you as I can.”

You nodded; any words you possibly could have responded with caught in your throat.

“Din told me you asked to go with him. Is that what you want?”

“No. I just couldn’t stay on this maker forsaken planet without you.”

“You never have to.”

He stood, turning so he could gently lay you down on the bed. He pulled everything but his pants off and climbed in next to you. He gently ran his fingers across your bruised face and swore in a mix of Basic and Mado’a.

“I must look like a mess.”

“You are still the most beautiful thing I’ve ever laid eyes on.”

You felt your face flush, so you turned away from him. He gently turned you back to face him with a sound of annoyance.

“Don’t hide from me, mesh’la.”

He kissed you again, gently, careful not to hurt you. His hands ran down your body and started to slowly and gently pull your clothes off. Part of you was terrified of him seeing more bruises but you shuddered when you remembered how dirty the bed was that you were on. Getting the clothes off would be a blessing. Once all of your clothes were discarded, he found each bruise and mark on your body and kissed them gently. You felt like your chest was going to cave in at how adored and cherished you felt. It wasn’t something you thought you would ever get from Boba.

“I am so sorry, cyar’ika. I will never let anyone touch you again. I’ll destroy planets just to keep you safe.”

“Come here.”

He looked up at you with dark eyes, blown wide with lust and something else you couldn’t quite pinpoint. You were suddenly afraid of him chastising you for trying to break out of your dynamic. You had never tried to be anything but obedient. Instead, he moved up, gently pulling your legs so they were wrapped around his waist. He held himself above you and kissed you gently.

“Tell me what you want, cyar’ika. Tell me what you need.”

“You. I just need you.”

He slipped his pants off and discarded them on the floor quickly, moving back to you. He kissed you deeply again, stealing your breath. When he gently pressed himself into you, a soft moan slipped from your lips. You had been intimate with him when you thought he wanted you to leave, but you’d been absent; afraid to truly let yourself feel anything for him.

“Such beautiful sounds you make.”

You expected him to turn brutal and rough since he was fully inside of you. It never happened. The only way you could describe what he was doing was making love to you. His hands held you gently and his kisses were even more delicate. He treated you like you were a prize that would easily break if he moved the wrong way. He pulled his face away just far enough to look into your eyes.

“Gar cuyir ner oyay. Ner darasuum kar'taylir darasuum.” (You are my life. My eternal love.)

You had no idea what he said to you, but you felt the sincerity. You felt the adoration coming from him. You felt stupid for thinking that the man completely consuming you would ever want you to leave. The longer he made love to you the more you felt it. He had never uttered the words to you, at least not that you understood, but his actions showed you.

He loved you.

It wasn’t very long before you were coming undone. It wasn’t the usual brutal climax that would hit you so hard you saw stars. This slowly built until there was nothing in existence around you. It was only you and Boba. Only you and your King. You were surprised when he finished with you, staying close. He peppered your face with kisses as you came down.

“Welcome back, princess.”

You felt tears starting to betray your overwhelmed state as he looked down at you. He tried to ask you what was wrong, but you pulled him close to you and finally let yourself truly cry in front of him. He held you close as he rolled to the side, not wanting to hurt you.

“You truly thought I didn’t want you anymore.”

You nodded and tried to wipe your eyes, but he beat you to it. He cradled your face and wiped every tear that fell from your eyes.

“I wish you would have just spoken to me. I could have quelled all of those fears.”

“I’m sorry, Boba.”

“Don’t be sorry. I’m sorry that you felt like you couldn’t talk to me.”

“I have a question, if that’s okay?”

“Of course, mesh’la.”

“What.. what did you say to me? When we were.. what did that mean?”

“I told you that you are my life and my eternal love.”

Your breath hitched again, and he chuckled lightly, pressing his forehead to yours.

“You need to learn Mando’a if you’re going to keep hanging around Mandalorians.”

You laughed lightly and then put your hand over your mouth, trying not to laugh even harder.

“What?”

“I just.. at least Mando’a is prettier than Huttese.”

“You speak that garbage language?”

You nodded again, laughing behind your hand.

“I would much prefer to learn your language. I never know what you’re saying to me.”

“I’m usually calling you beautiful. Mesh’la. Sounds better than fucking Huttese.”

You laughed out fully again, and he tucked you against his chest, pulling the sheet across your bodies. You reveled in his touch and comfort, finally letting yourself love him the way you wanted to. He may have been one of the most dangerous men in the universe, but to you he would always be salvation.

---

Bonus:

“Stay still.”

“Ouch!”

“I told you to stay still.”

“This is stupid.”

“So is not using bacta when it can heal up those ugly bruises faster.”

“Fennec stop being so damn rough!”

“Then sit still.”

You huffed out a sigh and tried to not move. You hissed when she pressed her fingers against your bruised face, and it earned you a glare.

“No more headbutting people. Got it?”

“Din said he’s going to get me a helmet so I can.”

She finally laughed and kissed the top of your head once she was done.

“There. Now leave it alone and your face will heal much faster.”

“Thank you.”

She sat down and pulled you into her lap.

“You scared me when you were gone, pet.”

“You thought I ran.”

“No. I just knew something was bothering you, but I saw the footprints. I saw they dragged you out. So, I called Boba even though I knew I was going to get my ass handed to me.”

“Well, thank you for calling him. I was almost sold to a Hutt.”

She grimaced and then smirked at you, her usual mirth returning.

“What would you have done then? I doubt they would have felt you headbutt them. You’d just be all slimy.”

“Ew, Fennec. I don’t even want to think about that.”

She laughed and wrapped her arms around you, holding you close. You rest your head on her shoulder and sighed.

“I’m glad you’re safe, pet.”

“Me too. I don’t want to be anywhere but here.”

Tag List: Kings Pet: @promiscuoussatan

Permanent: @mapplestrudel @cannedsoupsucks

If you would like to be added/removed please let me know!

#boba fett #boba fett x female reader #boba fett x you #boba fett x reader #fennec shand #smut #fanfic

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underworldobsessed · 3 years ago

Text

I Don’t Intend to Suffer Any Longer ll Extra Fic! Bo-Katan Week Day 7: Free Day

Title: I Don’t Intend to Suffer Any Longer Rating: T Ship: Obi-Wan Kenobi/Satine Kryze Characters: Bo-Katan Kryze, Satine Kryze, Obi-Wan Kenobi, Luke Skywalker Series: This Life is Mine (Bo-Katan Week 2021) Collection: Obitine Cave Fam Summary: Bo-Katan knows that when she doesn't feel safe, she doesn't sleep. She so rarely feels safe, that even visiting her sister's family on Tatooine leaves her feeling unsafe and refusing to sleep. However, on this particular trip, that changes. ll Extra fic for Bo-Katan Week Day 7: Free Day Author’s note: So this is actually based on a roleplay universe a bunch of my friends and I created, and I got permission from them to create a little fanfiction universe based in it. I adore the AU we created and I'm so excited to bring this world into my writing. Also, I felt kinda bad that my last day of Bo-Katan week was smut, so here’s an extra fic for all of you Bo-Katan fans!! I had a blast with this week! Thank you all for sticking with me!

Tagging: @bokatanweek

Read here or under the cut

Bo-Katan got the ship ready to land as she lowered into the atmosphere of the most backwater planet she could think of; Tatooine. She never understood why both Satine and Obi-Wan chose this planet to settle down on, and raise their young adopted son; Luke. It kept them safe, which to her, was the most important thing.

Yet despite all of it, she never felt safe enough to get rest while she was there.

She still felt uncertain with Obi-Wan, still trying to get accustomed to working with a jedi like him. Her sister knew this well, which was while she questioned it, she never judged her sister for not sleeping while she was on world. It was something she wished she could do, but sleep never came to her while she was there.

Wherever Bo was, if she didn’t feel safe, she wouldn’t sleep or her sleep would be plagued with nightmares. Even places she had been dozens of times, like the main Nite Owl base could cause her to become anxious and prevent her from sleeping. If they got a new member, or if they had recently had a close call. She became used to working on limited sleep, if she ever slept in general.

As she landed on the created landing platform, she picked up her helmet off the console. She would only hope her sister didn’t see that she had bags under her eyes from the stress she was under and sleepless nights. She hid a yawn as she walked down the ramp, only to get slammed into by a four year old, seeing her sister and her husband walking up towards her.

“Auntie Bo!” She smiled despite her exhaustion, lifting Luke up to set him on her hip. She pressed a kiss to his head. “Welcome home, Auntie Bo!”

Her heart warmed at the greeting, still unbelievable that she had a home that wasn’t a military base. Her sister and family actually had a place for her to stay, and wanted her there.

“Hello, Bo.” Satine walked up and wrapped her arms around Bo to try and hug her without crushing Luke. “How long are you going to be here this time?”

“I’ve got three days of leave before I have to return to base.”

“Awww,” Luke whined as Bo set him down. “Why can’t you stay longer, Auntie?”

“I’ve got people to save, kiddo.” She didn’t want him knowing just what she was doing when she wasn’t on world. At least not while he was this young. She knew her sister would frown at the consideration that she wanted to tell him of violence. Best not to let her know that she was planning on buying him a dagger for his birthday this year. She got one when she was this young from her parents, so it wouldn’t hurt to get him one as well.

He pouted but hurried into the cave where he lived. Obi-Wan smiled at Bo, clapping a hand on her shoulder.

“I’m glad to see you in one piece, Bo-Katan.” He smiled “Perhaps once Luke goes down for the night, you can tell us about what you’ve been doing and the progress on Mandalore.”

“Of course,” She promised as she followed them inside. On the table was already a full meal prepared. She was still not used to someone preparing a meal like this for her. She typically made herself something quick and easy, or just resorted to eating rations to get buy. A real home cooked meal like this was rare for her. Not that she was complaining necessarily, and she knew Satine had become a relatively good chef in the time since they were younger.

They all took their seats at the table, Luke making sure to sit next to Bo. She knew how much the kid missed her and she had to admit, she missed him too. It killed her to be off world more and more, finding less chances to come back and visit her family. At least for now, this was the way it was going to have to be.

“Is Korkie gonna come visit us anytime soon?” Luke asked, and Bo sighed. She looked over at Satine, who was pointedly not looking at her anymore, but she knew she was listening. Satine had still been keeping Korkie’s true identity a secret, but she always worried about the state of her son now that he had joined the Nite Owls in their fight to reclaim Mandalore.

“He wanted to join me this time, but he went on a supply run and won’t be back on base for another few days.”

“Oh…” Luke pouted as he took a bite of his food, before launching into a description of what he had been up to for so long since she had come to visit. The story was disjointed, but Bo could keep up fairly well. She listened to his story, smiling to herself as he went. She caught that he was making friends with some of the other kids, though always under the watchful eye of Satine when they went out. They had been to Mos Eisley a little bit more frequently, but lost what they did there in his rapid talking.

“Luke, you need to not talk with your mouth full,” Satine chided him, and at least he had the chance to look a little sheepish as he stopped talking briefly to eat a few bites.

“Sorry, Mamma.” He said, and Bo could see that same stunned face she made every time Luke called her that. She knew that Satine and Obi-Wan had told Luke the story of his birth parents, of Anakin and Padme and all they had accomplished. She had almost expected Luke to stop calling them mamma and papa after that, but the affection of them as his parents remained.

She knew anything different would tear Satine’s heart apart.

“Let the kid talk, Satine, I’m here so infrequently. I want to hear his stories.”

Luke beamed and launched into another story, this one about his recent love of reading some of his mamma’s old books. Bo had been bringing Satine some old Mandalorian children’s tales that Satine would find appropriate to read for Luke so he could learn. She knew there wasn’t much she could do for Obi-Wan’s past, but had found books that he would approve of for him to read to Luke as well.

They had been trying to get him to learn Basic and Mando’a, and possibly Huttese as well though neither were fluent in that.

But it was a connection to his father nonetheless.

As dinner wound down, they retired to a seating area to continue talking. Bo had taken up a seat on the couch with Luke and was playing with his starfighter toys, engaged in a playful fight as Satine sat comfortably on Obi-Wan’s lap as she watched her sister interact with Luke.

Paying attention to this caused her to notice just how Bo’s movements started to become sluggish. Her eyelids lowered as Bo let the starfighter drop to her side.

“Auntie?”

Bo’s eyes opened briefly, and she looked over at her nephew.

“I’m sorry, kiddo.” She ruffled his hair, and picked the toy up to continue playing with him once again.

As they played, and eventually just sat as Bo started to read one of the books she brought for him. She felt Luke grow heavy against her and she smiled, her eyelids lowering as well. Her arm wrapped around Luke’s shoulder and her head slowly fell to rest against the armrest of what she was sitting on. It wasn’t long before both of them started to fall asleep.

Satine looked over at the couch and gently nudged her husband to look at them.

“Obi, look.” Satine’s voice was soft to try and keep from waking Bo by mistake. “She’s actually sleeping.”

“Forgive me, darling, but I would assume Bo-Katan would sleep, it is quite late.”

“Obi, in the years my sister has come to visit us, how frequently would you say she came to sleep?” When silence greeted her, she continued. “When she doesn’t feel safe, Bo won’t sleep. She knows she has nightmares, and knows they’re more common when she doesn’t feel safe, so she won’t sleep. The fact that she’s willingly fallen asleep means she’s finally starting to feel safe while she’s here.”

Satine looked once again at Bo, who seemed so much younger now that she was asleep. The stress had melted away on her face. While she knew that they were twins, Bo had been graced with a younger face, so she always reminded Satine of when they were children and Bo would fall asleep next to her.

Finally, her sister felt safe enough in the same place as her where she would willingly sleep like this.

The thought brought tears to her eyes, and she felt her heart warm.

“Should we carry them to bed?” Obi-Wan finally spoke up once again “I don’t want them to get a crick in their necks.”

“Don’t worry about it, Obi.” Satine reassured him. “Bo used to be able to sleep pretty much anywhere once she was comfortable. Besides, I don’t think she will be able to fall asleep once again if we accidentally wake her. Let them sleep. Luke will be happy to sleep close to his aunt since Bo is so rarely here.”

“I’ll get them a blanket.” He said as he went to the spare bedroom that Bo never used. In the meantime, Satine got up and went to brush her sister’s hair out of her face.

“I love you, Bo’ika. I’m so happy to see you finally feeling comfortable here. This is your home too and we will keep you safe so you can always get a full night’s rest while you are here.”

#Obitine #Bo-Katan #Bo-Katan Kryze #Bo Katan #Bo Katan Kryze #Jen Writes #Bo Katan week

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kikis-writing-world · 4 years ago

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Goodbye

Summary: You had to wait on Fett’s ship while they stormed the cruiser. You wait impatiently for the outcome of the rescue.

Pairing: Din Djarin x GN!Reader

Word Count: 1.1k

Rating/Warnings: SPOILERS FOR CHAPTER 16!!!! Other than the spoilers, it’s all angst and no editing lol. But seriously, if you’re avoiding finding out what happens in Season 2, Episode 8 / Chapter 16 of The Mandalorian, don’t read this yet.

Set after The Reason, but can be read as a stand-alone

A/N: That episode wrecked me so... who wants more angst? Despite my reservations last week about posting a reaction fic, here’s one for this week! I had another follow up planned to The Reason, which I will likely still write eventually and set after this one.

Your leg bounced anxiously as you waited for Fett to relay any news. You’d already asked twice if he’d heard from them yet and didn’t want to annoy him further. He was a nice enough man but you had seen him in battle. You had no intention of pushing him to the ends of his patience.

You wished you were with them on the cruiser. You had wanted to go but had been met with five different disapproving stares, even if some of those stares were hidden under helmets. You had been expecting Din to argue that it was unsafe, but the others agreeing had been a surprise.

You had proven yourself on Sorgan. You had helped take down a walker for Gods’ sake! You were there when Moff Gideon first showed his face, you had helped with the Krayt Dragon, had breached the old imp base on Nevarro- You could handle it.

Ultimately, you lost the argument. Din claimed he needed to know you were safe to focus on saving Grogu. Cara, although she complimented your skills previously, explained that you weren't ready to take on dark troopers. Bo-Katan and Koska dismissed you entirely. Boba was gentle in his denial, simply stating that it would be safer for you to stay with him as he placed a hand on your shoulder. Fennec nodded along with his statements. You reluctantly agreed.

You didn’t want to be a cause for distraction or to get in anyone’s way, but you felt useless. You just wanted to help. Your heart ached for the child, having no idea if he was safe or if he was cold, hungry and scared. Your whole being was begging for a role in the plot so that you could help, but you had to tell yourself the best help you could be was to simply wait.

“Just got their signal” Fett’s voice echoed through the hold. “We’re going in.”

You nearly sobbed in relief at his words. You wanted to ask who had been the one to hail him, had they said anything about what happened, did they find Grogu, was everyone okay- you didn’t ask any of the questions. Instead you gripped your harness tightly, knuckled turning white with the pressure, anxiously awaiting.

You had shed several tears by the time Slave I had docked. You were certain they had the child. Even if something had happened to one of them, any of them, they would make sure he gets back to you. That much you were sure of. You were unclipping the harness as soon as the ship righted itself, running for the ramp.

They were all there. All standing. No blood or major injuries to be found. You felt relief flood you as it was confirmed: they’d done it. Cara, Fennec, Bo-Katan, Koska, a cuffed Moff Gideon and-

Din was helmetless. Your breath caught at the sight, still unused to just how handsome he was. You ran for him, needing to wrap your arms around him, to feel that he was okay, to hold him and your foundling and know your little family was back together.

“Where is he?” You asked excitedly as you reached them. Din stopped walking, wrapping his arms around you and burying his face in your neck. The others carried on to the ship, giving the two of you a moment of privacy.

“Din?” You asked quietly, making sure your voice didn’t carry over to them. “Where’s Grogu?”

“He’s gone, cyar'ika.” He mumbled against your skin. You could hear just how much his voice shook without the modulator of his helmet to disguise his emotions.

The words felt like ice cold water being dumped over your body. They stole your breath away and your knees buckled. You would have fallen had Din not been holding you so tightly. “W-what?” You stuttered, trying to comprehend what he had said.

“He’s okay,” he clarified. “He’s where he belongs.”

That made no sense. You regained your strength so you could take a step back, forcing Din’s head up so you could look him in the eyes. His didn’t drop his hold on you, just moved his hands to your upper arms. “Where he belongs? He belongs with us.”

He shook his head, sadness pooled in those brown eyes. He wasn’t crying, but the tears were threatening to spill over any moment.

“A Jedi came. Skywalker. He’s going to train him, take care of him.” He whispered.

It felt like a punch to the gut. You couldn’t quite catch a decent breath, your shaking inhalations echoing through the hangar.

You knew this moment had been coming. It’s what the two of you had been working towards for months it seemed. Din had been charged with returning the child to it’s people, to the Jedi. You had thought Ahsoka Tano would train him, but she wouldn’t take him. You’d been secretly relieved for more time with the little green being, but now that time was up. Too much of it had been stolen by Moff Gideon taking the child away from you.

“Well, where is he?” You demanded, feeling the tears pooling in your own eyes. It had been hard enough to say goodbye when you thought he would be staying on Corvus, but now it seemed it was happening for real.

“He’s gone.” Din admitted. The muscles of his face shook as they flexed, trying to keep his emotions in check.

You shook your head before looking around the hangar for an out of place ship. Whatever the Jedi had arrived in. “No, I haven’t said goodbye yet.”

“I’m sorry.” He sighed, his own voice growing shakier as he cupped your cheek. He pulled your attention back to him.

“But…” you bit your lip to stop it from shaking. “I didn’t say goodbye.”

Din pulled you back into a tight hug. You wrapped your arms around him in return, burying your face in the cloth of his cape pooled around his neck. The smell of sweat and blaster fire clung to the fabric as you sobbed.

“I didn’t even get to tell him I love him. To say goodbye.” You cried loudly, not caring who in the galaxy could hear your sorrow.

“He knows. I promise cyar'ika, he knows.” He croaked.

Din shook in your arms. He didn’t make another sound, but his body shook with his own silent sobs. Your legs gave out under you and he lowered the two of you to the ground. You ended up in his lap, both of you holding on tightly to the other as you could as you cried. Your little family was down to two, and you hadn’t been ready in the least.

Tagging: @wickedfrsgrl @din-damn-djarin @thisisthe-wayson @insideafictionaluniverse

#The Mandalorian Spoilers #Din Djarin x Reader #The Mandalorian x Reader #Din Djarin drabble #The Mandalorian drabble #Din Djarin imagine #The Mandalorian imagine #Din Djarin fanfic #The Mandalorian fanfic #Pedro Pascal Character fanfiction #WookieTales

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tanyawritesstories · 4 years ago

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Frozen Chances | The Mandalorian x Reader

So here is the much asked for sequel to Frozen Miracles that I promised. I hope y'all think it's as good at the first part. Enjoy 😊

Word count: 4.2k

Warnings: violence, fluff, feelings, yearning, use of the Force, Din is coincidentally great with children

•••

Nexlar was finally in sight. After a rough and bumpy five hour journey, the moon was finally within their reach. Din was tired, he hadn’t slept in about thirty hours. He had planned to after the kids were asleep, then Mandi decided to rearrange the interior of the ship with the first display of her powers. Din was still stunned and confused about the entire situation. He knew it wasn’t normal for children to have these abilities. His son was technically fifty years old and evidently knew how to use his powers to a certain extent. But Mandi was a newborn, only a few days old and she was exhibiting barely controlled displays of the same power.

Din had stayed in the cockpit ever since the small ordeal. Y/N hadn’t spoken anymore, just sat on the floor forcing herself to stay awake and hold her baby. She was terrified. She hadn’t let go of Mandi since, just cradled her in her arms, crying softly from time to time. Din was a bounty hunter, he’d been all over the galaxy and seen all sorts of strange things. Chances are this woman had never, or at least barely, left Tatooine. She was from a small corner of the galaxy where the unusual things were stormtroopers and blaster fire that lasted longer than a few minutes. Undoubtedly, the powers her foundling was displaying were concerning rather than confusing.

He brought the Crest into the planet’s atmosphere. A good part of the planet was forested, but he managed to pick out a city and put down the Crest on the edge of the forest. He climbed down into the hull, finding Y/N still hadn't moved from the floor at the end of his bunk. She had been awake as long as he had, if not longer. She was still looking at her daughter, trying to keep her eyes open she was so fatigued. Din could just barely see the dark bags under her eyes, every time her eyes started closing she would open them and blink a few times, trying to ward off her exhaustion.

He heard a small clang and looked over to see the child had somehow gotten into his ammunition stash, and was seconds away from sticking a charge for his pulse rifle into his mouth. “No, no, no,” he said kneeling down and snatching the bullet away. “That’s not food, you can’t eat that.” He returned it to the container and locked it back up, sighing and picking up his little green gremlin. He turned back around and saw she had finally looked up at him.

I’m sorry. I should have been watching him. She signed.

“It’s alright,” he said, “we’re on Nexlar but it’s getting late and you shouldn’t go walking around in the city at this hour. Why don’t you get some sleep, I’ll watch her.” Her shoulders sagged and she looked on the verge of tears again.

I don’t know what’s wrong with her, I have never seen anything like that.

Din kneeled in front of her and set the child by her feet. “I have. My little one has the same abilities. I don’t know how it’s possible, but he can move things with his mind. I think your foundling has the same powers,” he informed. He saw her relax a little, looking at his child who was trying to climb onto her lap.

So it’s not a bad thing then? Or anything that will hurt her?

“No, it’s nothing bad. She just can do things that other infants can’t,” he told her. "You can hold her then, but you need to get some sleep." She looked sad again but reluctantly held Mandi out to him. Din took the baby into his arms and cradled her against his chest. He held the little girl close and made sure she was comfortable in his arms, looking up he saw Y/N watching with a smile as he interacted with her baby. He nodded to his bed and she removed his child before slowly climbing onto his bed. Din picked his son off the floor and stood up.

“We’ll switch, you can always get him to sleep,” Din said. He placed his little one at the foot of the bed and he made his way to lay next to her head. She smiled and wrapped an arm around him protectively, ghosting a kiss to his cheek. Din exhaled slowly as he watched her turn off the lights. He would hate to see her go in the morning, she was so good with the kids, an excellent mechanic and he knew she could pilot a ship with her eyes closed. He would love to have someone with her skills aboard. The more he thought about it, the more she reminded him of Kuiil. A caring individual who was as skilled as she was kind. Someone who had experienced hardships in the past but had overcome them and chosen not to let that affect the peace they seeked. Only Kuiil was in a different state of peace now.

Din didn't want to be sad right now, he wanted to cherish this little girl as much as he could before he would never see her again. He retrieved one of the bottles of milk Y/N had pumped before they left the ice planet. She'd stashed it underneath a panel in the wall, knowing it would stay cold there. He climbed into the cockpit and took his seat, nudging Mandi’s lips with the soft tip of the bottle so she would open her mouth. He smiled under his helmet as she latched onto the bottle and began drinking.

Is this what it feels like to be the father of a normal child?

Mandi wasn’t normal, not anymore, but she was human and looking at her you would never know she had unnatural powers. Even though she was so young one could see that Mandi had her mother’s nose, lips, and face shape. However, her eyes and hair were a dark brown, evidently traits from her father; Din wondered what the man had looked like. He looked out the viewports at the surrounding forest. The strange, alien trees glowed in the darkness and the city had quieted down, it was peaceful and steady here. Din hoped Y/N and Mandi would be able to live here and be happy for a long time.

~~~~

Din had allowed himself to drift off to sleep once Mandi had finished her dinner. He shifted a bit in his chair and noticed the weight was gone from his lap and arms. He jolted awake and looked around, getting his bearings before rushing down into the hull. He opened his quarters and saw nothing, he turned around and calmed at the sight. Y/N was sitting on the floor again, breastfeeding Mandi while making sure his child didn’t spill the broth she had made for him. He sighed in relief and walked over, kneeling in front of her. Y/N had a blanket over the front of her to cover herself as she fed her child, wincing every now and then.

“Is she still biting you?” He asked. The woman nodded with a strained smile.

I’ll get used to it.

Din nodded. “Do you need anything before you go?” He asked. She shook her head and gave him a sad smile. Maybe she didn’t want to go either? He wished he had the guts to ask her to stay, he wanted her to stay. He reminded himself that his life was not suited for a woman and her child, the best thing he could do for her was let her go. He helped her pack up her few things and made sure she had everything she might need that he could give her. He opened the side ramp, facing the city.

“These are for you,” he said, handing her a pouch off his belt. She took and opened it, her eyes widening at the contents. It was the credits she gave him before they left Tatooine, his payment.

No, I can’t take this, these are yours.

“You’ll need them, nothing is cheap these days,” he said. She still looked apprehensive. “You can’t start over if you’ve got nothing to start with.”

She finally gave in and took the credits from him. Din reached over and brushed his glove-covered knuckles over Mandi’s cheek. “I know you’ll take good care of her,” he said. She nodded and smiled, looking over to see his little one standing on the end of his bed. She walked over to him and pecked a kiss on the top of his head.

I’ll miss you. She signed to him. She came back next to Din, smiling softly.

I’ll miss you too. Thank you for everything you’ve done. If you ever need anything, please come to me. I'd love to help.

He nodded in acknowledgement, not knowing what to say or even if he could say it. "Thank you, I hope you find what you're looking for here," was all he managed to say. She nodded back and adjusted Mandi in her wrap before walking down the ramp and into the city.

~~~~

The rest of the flight to Trask was more boring than he thought it would be. He didn't realize they hadn't fixed the landing gear as well as he thought, causing the Crest to plunge into the ocean at the last minute. At least the patches in the hull held up.

Din met the contacts at the marina. A lovely and welcoming couple that appeared to be a frog-like species. They couldn't speak basic, but they led him and his child into a nearby inn. His mind was taken away from how lonely he now felt, the feeling replaced with progress. He finally felt like he was getting somewhere.

The day passed, quick and chaotic. He found the Mandalorians he was looking for, but it nearly cost the child's life as well as his own. He was barely able to sleep the first night on Trask. He was starting to wonder if there were any of his kind left; anyone he knew or grew up with. Were they all gone? Was Bo-Katan right about his people? Were they actually a cult, or was she wrong and her opinion was tainted. He didn’t know what to believe.

When it came the next day, Din wished he had Y/N now more than anything. This mission was too dangerous to bring the child with, and so he left him in the care of the kind frog couple. They were nice and appeared to have new little ones of their own. Din was almost wishing he had left the kid with Y/N on Nexlar until he was certain he’d found a Jedi.

The mission went about as smoothly as things go around Din, which of course meant that there were several hiccups and issues. In the end he got the location of a Jedi, but was still frustrated with the so-called Mandalorians we had worked with. After picking the child back up, Din headed back to the Crest. The Mon Calamari he had paid handsomely to repair his beloved vessel had not done nearly the job he should have for the amount Din had paid him.

Frustrated, tired, and overwhelmed, Din knew the Crest would need more repairs, he would need sleep and food and so would the child. He took off and debated where to program the nav computer. He thought for a moment before punching in the coordinates to Nexlar. He would have a proposition to make.

~~~~

Luckily, the landing gear had been fixed and he was able to put his ship down in the same place as before. He was forced to carry the child in his shoulder bag after the crib had been destroyed by the sea creature. He made his way into town after securing the Crest. Din had no way of knowing where she had settled and so resorted to asking around. It didn’t take him long. A few of the merchants in the town square said she visited regularly, but only one was willing to tell him where she lived after he explained he was a friend who was there to check up on her. It was getting later in the day and Din purchased a few things for dinner and made his way to her home. Her home turned out to be two small connected rooms built behind an apothecary. He had thought with the amount of credits she had that she would have been able to afford better lodging.

The second he knocked, he heard a baby start crying. The door opened and revealed a tired looking Y/N. Without warning, she hugged him, pressing her face into his cold chest plate. Din was a bit taken aback but put his free arm around her briefly. "I, uh, brought dinner," he said nervously. She looked up at him and smiled, grabbing his arm and half dragging him inside. The moment she closed the door she began signing at a blinding pace.

I don't know what to do, I've tried so many different things and I'm out of ideas. She's not sick, she's not lacking any necessary vitamins, but she won't sleep and she barely eats.

The woman stopped and sighed, looking moments away from tears. She dug her hands into her hair and tried to calm herself down. Din set the food down on her table, now also concerned about the baby. "What's happened since I left?"

Nothing, nothing major. But she hasn't slept for more than a few hours since we got here. I don't know what to do anymore.

Din took his child out of his carry bag and set him on the floor after checking to make sure there was nothing he could get into. "Can I try?" He shyly asked. She motioned for him to go ahead as she collected the things he brought and took them to a counter. Din walked into the adjoining room, the bedroom, finding Mandi wrapped in a blanket, squirming and crying. His heart broke for the little one and he rushed to her side, scooping her up in his arms.

"Shh, shh. There, there, little one. It's ok now," he spoke softly. He rocked her in his arms and she slowly stopped crying and opened her eyes. Din removed a glove and ever so gently brushed away the tears on her little cheeks. "What's wrong, littl'un? You've got your buir worried sick," he said. Mandi just looked at him curiously, as if nothing had ever been wrong. One of her little arms reached up towards his face and Din intercepted her hand with a finger. She wrapped her entire hand around his one digit and he let her pull his finger into her mouth and watched her begin sucking on it. "Let's see if you'll eat something, hmm," he said.

Din walked back into the other room to get her a bottle. He found his child sitting in the middle of the table surrounded by a small number of hand-sewn toys that Y/N had given him to keep him occupied while she made dinner. "Does she have a bottle somewhere?" He asked. The woman pointed at the small cooling storage unit a few feet away and he opened it, grabbing a bottle out. He sat at the table, cradling Mandi comfortably with one arm. He used the same technique he had used with her before, gently rubbing and nudging the bottle against her lips until she opened her mouth. As soon as she had the bottle in her mouth she began drinking greedily. “Whoa, slow down there,” he murmured.

Unbeknownst to him, Y/N had been watching him interact with Mandi and scribbled something on a piece of flimsi. She set it on the table next to him and smiled when he looked up at her, patting his green son’s head before returning to finish their supper. Din glanced at the note she left for him. ‘It’s like she thinks you’re her father.’ Was written in neat but quick handwriting, he looked up and saw her putting things on a few separate plates with her back to him. He thought for a second and remembered the time Mandi saw him without his helmet not long after she was born and how he talked to her. He wasn’t 100% sure how babies worked but it could have been that Mandi saw him, the second person she had ever seen, and her little brain assumed he was her father. Plus, if her mother didn’t speak, his voice was the only one she knew. It would explain why she always calmed down when he talked to her. Y/N set two plates on the table, one in front of her and the other in front of the kid.

I made one for you, it’s keeping warm so you can eat it later when you’re comfortable.

Din nodded and thanked her, continuing to feed the little girl until she had her fill. Din returned her to her mother and then made sure his own kiddo wasn’t eating too fast. He watched her rock her baby and she signed a ‘thank you’ to him.

Are you able to stay here for the night? She asked with her hands. Din didn’t see any reason why he couldn’t, plus it would give him some time to think of a way to ask her if she would like to work for him.

"That would be nice."

~~~~

Din had found yet another thing that Y/N was skilled in: cooking. After they chatted for a while, she had put Mandi to sleep and dragged a mattress into the main room for him. In the safety of the darkness, well past midnight, Din was able to remove his helmet and eat the meal she'd left warm for him. It was the best food he'd had in months. In the morning, she let him have the refresher to himself for a while after she made breakfast.

He entered the main room to find her settling Mandi into a wrap across her chest. "Thank you for breakfast, and dinner last night," he said, "the food was amazing." She smiled and nodded towards him.

Would you like to come to the market with me? I could use the help.

"Sure," he agreed. He gathered his little womp rat into his bag and walked with her to the market in the center of town. He offered to carry her groceries and acted as a translator between her and the merchants. He noticed that she was buying very little and the amount of credits she had was low. “What happened to your credits? Housing on Nexlar that expensive?” She shook her head sadly.

I wasn’t here more than an hour and some thief swiped almost half my credits. That’s why I couldn’t afford better lodging.

Din sighed, making a note to pay for whatever she bought next. “Uh, listen I had been wanting to ask you a question..” he started. She nodded for him to continue. “Would you like to become part of my crew? It’s just me and the kid right now and I could use someone with your vast array of skills.” She looked at the ground as she walked, contemplating. “I can pay you,” he added.

I don’t know, I left Tatooine to escape the ruckus and adventure. But maker knows I could use the credits. She signed.

He let her think more as they walked until she suddenly stopped dead in her tracks. Din looked over at her and saw her staring in front of her where a line of New Republic credits were floating in the air in front of her. They both followed the line with their eyes back to its owner, an oblivious man standing at a meat cart. The pair looked around and saw that people’s credits were levitating in the air from their purses and pouches and steadily floating towards them. Din once again, on reflex, looked down at the kid in the bag near his hip, but it didn’t appear to be him. It was easy to tell when his kid used his powers, he usually used his hands and showed extreme concentration on his face, right now he looked unaffected and curious.

They both looked down at Mandi, strung safely across her mother’s chest with her little arms in the air and a small furrow in her brow. It wasn’t possible that she heard what her mother had said about needing credits, was it? The spectacle was drawing the attention of others, most stood dumbfounded as their currency floated through the air towards a woman and a Mandalorian with two children. Y/N held a concerned look on her face as she placed her hands on Mandi and held her impossibly closer to her body.

“Hey!”

Both Y/N and Din looked over to see a man staring at them angrily. “You the one doing this?” He shouted at the woman. Y/N looked between him and Mandi, shaking her head quickly. The man scoffed and pulled his blaster out of its holster. “Drop the credits,” he threatened. Y/N started signing quickly and Din spoke. “She doesn’t know how, it’s not her,” he said. The man stepped a few feet closer and several more men closed in around them, all with drawn blasters. They were outnumbered, Din knew how these things went and he slowly took her hand in his. “Alright then,” the ringleader said, “guess we’ll just have to kill her to get her to stop.” He raised his blaster and Din gripped Y/N’s hand tight.

“Run!”

He pulled her with him as they took off down an alley, blaster bolts firing behind them. “We have to get to the Crest, if we go to your house they’ll just find you,” Din said as he led her through close quartered buildings. They could hear the thugs chasing them, still firing their blasters. They came around a corner and skidded to a stop by a thug who had cut them off. Din drew his blaster and fired, killing him in seconds. Y/N grabbed Din’s wrist and pulled him in another direction.

They weaved through alleyways, trying to avoid the main roads while running back to the Crest. Din would fire behind them if they got close. He had no idea how many people were chasing them but he’d killed at least three. Din’s HUD picked up the Crest’s distance. They broke away from the town and headed towards the trees. The ship was in sight, Din pressed a few buttons on his vambrace and the engines started up. His head was tilted forwards and a ringing sound followed, he stopped, turned, and shot the pursuer that shot at his head. Y/N kept running towards the Crest, who’s ramp had just lowered.

Din suddenly felt something wrap around his neck. He dropped his blaster and grabbed at the cord but it was activated and electricity flowed through his body, dropping him to the ground on his back. Y/N looked back and saw what was happening. One of the thugs had an electric whip around Mando’s neck and he was squirming on the ground. She ran back and grabbed his blaster off the ground and fired at their aggressor. The man dropped dead, the whip turning off. Bullseye. She dropped the blaster and grabbed his vibroblade from his boot, cutting the cord, unwrapping it from his neck.

Din got to his feet and holstered his blaster and his blade before running into the Crest with his new companion. Din closed the ramp and Y/N climbed the ladder into the cockpit. More thugs came running towards the ship and Y/N pressed a button to activate the shields. Din joined her in the cockpit just as she pulled a lever back and lifted the steering handles, taking the Crest into the air. The thugs fired at the ship but their bullets harmlessly bounced off the shields. She guided his ship out of the atmosphere and into empty space. Finally safe, she slumped into the seat and sighed. “Welcome aboard,” he said, smiling behind his helmet. She chuckled and checked on Mandi, who was alright, as was Din’s little one. He reached over and punched their next destination into the nav computer. “Ever been to Navarro?”

~~~~

One of the few thugs that survived and had witnessed everything, made his way into a nearby cantina. He walked to the back and nodded to the Rodian guarding a secret door. The Rodian moved aside, letting the man enter the room. He walked to a terminal in the middle of the dark room and turned it on. He only had to wait for a few minutes until the glowing blue hologram of an Imperial officer showed up. “Anything to report?” The officer asked.

“Yes, I have a message for Moff Gideon,” the man growled.

“Tell him there’s another child.”

#star wars #the mandalorian #din djarin #din djarin x reader #frozen miracles sequel

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ladyrynofsunnydale · 3 years ago

Text

Bo-Katan Week Day 1 / Childhood/Younger Years

Title: End of One Era, Beginning of Another

Rating: T

Summary: It’s the start of the Great Clan Wars and Bo-Katan and Satine have had to flee Mandalore. While Bo-Katan is willing to fight for her sister, Satine instead wishes to follow their parents’ belief in peace. With their parents dead, they are all the family each other has left. Is that enough to keep them together?

Author’s Note: Day 1 of Bo-Katan Week! I am so excited to be writing fanfiction again, especially about one of my favorite Star Wars characters! For Day 1 I decided to go with the alternate prompt of Childhood/Younger Years. Hope you enjoy! Mando’a translations at the bottom.

Click Here or on Keep Reading for the story!

Tagging: @bokatanweek

Ever since she’d heard the Republic had contacted them about sending Jedi guards, Bo-Katan could not keep still. As an avid student of Mandalorian military history, she knew the history between Mandalore and the Republic and their Jedi. Their war had left Mandalore a wasteland. And now they wanted to send them here to protect them? More likely they wanted to send them here to control Mandalore.

Bo stormed into Satine’s office and dramatically flung herself on one of the chairs.

“Who do they think they are?”

Satine sighed. She was sitting behind a scarred wooden desk, datapads littered around her, with the setting sun warming her back and causing her blonde hair to almost glow. Absentmindedly tugging on her long braid, she glanced up at Bo then struggled to focus back on the datapad in her hand.

“Who’re you talking about Bo?”

“The Republic! Who do they think they are, sending Jedi here?!” The anger was impressive on her ten-year-old face as she scowled at the desk, her arms crossed over her chest.

“They just reached out to us. They’re not sending any Jedi,” Satine answered, closing her eyes to rub her temples. “Just like I told you this morning.”

“But they could! What if they decide to just send the Jedi anyways? Do you know that they put a Jedi regent on Pijal for eight years?! I bet that is what they want to do here.”

“I’m old enough to not need a regent Bo.” Satine was now staring fixedly at the data pad in her hand. “And how did you hear about Pijal anyways? I thought you were supposed to be doing school work?” she glanced up at Bo, her brows pinched together. Bo shrugged, looking down at her lap.

“I did some school work. Then I got bored.”

“Of course you did,” Satine grumbled under her breath. Bo could be an amazing student. She could tell you the most obscure facts about Mandalorian history, tell you who ruled which clan when, but gods forbid you ask her to study something she wasn’t interested in.

“You know,” Bo started, looking up at Satine and sitting up straighter in her chair. “We wouldn’t need aruetii protection if we just stood up for ourselves.”

Satine put the datapad down and gave Bo a severe look.

“We’re trying to show Mandalore a new future, Bo, where everything doesn’t have to be settled by warfare.”

“But Satine!” Bo exclaimed. “They attacked first! This is defense!” Bo had always looked up to her older sister, but she never quite understood her pacifism. Once she’d been old enough to understand, she’d wanted to put on their family’s beskar’gam and take up arms against those who threatened her family. Be a true Mando’ad. She could defend Satine, she knew, even if her sister didn’t want to fight.

“Violence begets violence. It’s not the way.”

“The Protectors have weapons!” Bo said, pointing at the two Protectors currently flanking the office door.

“The Protectors are here to protect us,” Satine responded, exasperation filling her voice.

“Well I don’t need protection,” Bo said confidently. “I’m a verd. Just like Ba’buir.”

“Ba’buir died at thirty during a clan dispute!” Satine finally snapped. “And since then Mom and Buir have worked hard to show Mandalore that violence just gets good people killed!”

The room went silent as Bo went completely still, staring at her sister. Shame passed over Satine’s face.

“Well Mom and Buir are dead. So a fat lot of good that did them,” Bo said, standing up and running for the door.

“Bo!” Satine called, rounding the desk, but Bo was already gone.

“We’ll send someone after her,” one of the Protectors said, and Satine nodded and sank into the chair Bo had just vacated, her head in her hands.

Bo didn’t stop until she’d reached the storage room beside the armory. She found the darkest corner of the room and slid down the wall, hugging her knees to her chest while wiping the back of her hand against her nose and willing herself not to cry. Verda did not cry.

She didn’t know how long she sat there until there was a knock at the door and Fenn Rau stuck his head in.

Fenn was young, maybe a little older than Satine, and Bo really liked him. He was funny and was one of the few Protectors who didn’t treat her like a little girl. He’d even taught her how to shoot a blaster and don armor, behind Satine’s back of course.

“Hello, Bo-Katan,” he said, stepping into the room.

“I’m not going back,” Bo said petulantly, sniffing and wiping at her nose again. She picked up a fallen spare droid part and launched it across the room. “I hate this place!” Fenn walked in and closed the door behind him before coming to sit beside Bo, leaving about an arm’s length between them. “I just want to go home,” Bo said softly, wrapping her arms around her knees.

“I know, verd’ika,” Fenn said gently, leaning his head up against the wall. “I miss home too.”

Fenn pulled something out of one of the pouches on his belt and began messing with it. Bo lifted her head off of her knees and watched him before scooting closer.

“What is that?” she asked.

“A puzzle box. You have to align everything quite right,” he said, twisting the beskar box in his hand around, “and then,” and the box popped open.

“Ooh!” Bo exclaimed, her eyes lighting up. “May I try?”

Fenn nodded, putting the box back together and twisting it a few times before handing it over. Bo eagerly took it and turned it around and around in her hands, looking at every detail, before gingerly twisting it. After a few minutes she pulled at it and…nothing happened.

“Dank farrik,” she grunted and Fenn hid a smile behind his hand.

“Language,” he said.

With her head still bowed over the box she looked up at him from under her sharp red brows.

“Haar’chak,” she deadpanned. Fenn shook his head as she went back at it. She kept at it, all her focus on the tiny box, mumbling to herself when she’d pull at it fruitlessly, until finally he heard the click and when she pulled it opened. She whooped in triumph, her yell reverberating off the walls and Fenn smiled at her proudly. Turning the pieces over in her hands she took the time to examine the inner mechanisms.

“You know, your sister didn’t mean to snap at you,” he said softly. Bo didn’t react for a few minutes, just turning the box around and around in her hands. She then sighed and reached the box back out to him.

“I know. I just…miss them.”

Fenn remained silent, staring at the box in Bo’s small hand. He reached over and closed her hand around it.

“You keep it.” She looked up at him with wide eyes.

“Are you sure?”

He nodded.

“Keep it safe for me.”

Bo kept staring at the box, her eyes narrowed in thought. She then gently placed the box in one of the pouches on her belt and reached into another pouch, pulling out a leaf-shaped piece of metal. She weighed it in her hand, watching the way the light bounced off the beskar, before holding it out to Fenn.

“A trade,” she said. “I’ll keep your box safe if you keep this safe for me.”

Fenn gently reached out and took the offered leaf. Turning it over, he inspected the etchings and detail. He could see Bo-Katan’s work in it, and her initials on the back.

“When did you make this?”

“Before we left the palace. It’ll bring you luck.”

“Are you sure?” Fenn asked, meeting Bo’s eyes. She nodded resolutely. “I promise to keep it safe for you.”

Standing, he offered his hand and she took it and allowed him to pull her to her feet. Side by side they left the storage room and headed down the hall.

Satine and Bo hugged when Fenn brought her back, but Bo didn’t bring up the Republic or the Jedi again.

A week later she stood next to Satine as they waited for Prime Minister Rogaar who’d just landed outside the compound. Her tunic was scratchy and uncomfortable and she kept pulling at it and shifting around. She didn’t know what the big deal was. She’d met Minister Rogaar before.

The compound doors opened and Minister Rogaar, flanked by a couple guards and two of his aides, walked through. He was a large man, older with gray hair and a neatly trimmed beard, with kind light blue eyes. Walking towards them he smiled widely.

“Your grace, it is so good to see you safe,” he boomed and Satine smiled back at him, inclining her head.

“It’s good to see you as well, Minister. I appreciate you coming.”

Sorrow filled the minister’s eyes as he nodded.

“Of course, my dear, of course. And Lady Bo-Katan, it is good to see you again!” he said, turning to Bo-Katan and brightening. Bo inclined her head stiffly.

“Minister.”

Rogaar looked back up at Satine and Bo noticed his smile slipped again.

“I come with some news. Shall we?” Satine nodded and began leading the way to her office when she paused and turned to Fenn, one of the Protectors behind them.

“Rau, do you mind taking Bo-Katan to the library? She has lessons she needs to attend to.”

“What?” Bo exclaimed, and all eyes turned to her. “I’m coming too!”

“No, Bo-Katan, we talked about this.”

“No YOU talked about this. I want to be a part of this too!”

“This is not something you need to concern yourself with. And you have lessons. Mom and Buir would want you to keep up your education.”

Bo opened her mouth to retort but Fenn turned her around and guided her down the hall.

“I’ve got her, your Grace,” he said.

Bo, surprisingly, allowed herself to be guided and just glared at Satine as she walked away.

“I’m sorry about that,” Satine said, leading the way again. “This all has been…tough on her.”

“And not just her, I am sure,” Rogaar said and Satine glanced away.

“It has not been easy.” Satine said and her shoulders sagged.

Bo was quiet at dinner, pushing her food around her plate. She wondered what Satine and Rogaar had been talking about and what was happening down on Mandalore. Did they discuss the Republic’s offer? They were currently discussing the weather on Concordia.

“So, Bo-Katan,” Rogaar suddenly said and Bo looked up. “I’ve heard you enjoy playing dejarik.” Bo’s eyes lit up.

“Yes! It’s the best game! Do you play?”

Rogaar nodded.

“Indeed I do, though it has been a while.”

“Can we play after dinner?” she asked, sitting up straighter in her chair. Rogaar smiled at her and shrugged.

“I’d be willing,” he said, then looked at Satine. Bo quickly turned her attention to Satine too and she smiled and softened her rigid posture.

“But you have to finish your food first,” she said. Bo scarfed down her food and waited impatiently for everyone else to finish before leading the way into one of the sitting rooms where a circular dejarik board was set up in the corner. She wasted no time turning on the table and choosing her characters, Rogaar sitting across from her and choosing his own.

The game started out civilly, Bo trying to determine Rogaar’s strategy, but once she got her pieces where she wanted them she attacked ruthlessly, her face screwed in concentration. Rogaar’s look changed from one of pleasant amusement to one of intense focus as he tried to counter Bo’s increasingly aggressive moves. Satine couldn’t help but smile at how quickly Bo was taking down Rogaar’s pieces and at one point leaned down beside her.

“Hey, hey, go easy on him,” she said quietly. Bo stopped and looked up at her, an unconvinced look on her face.

“I’m ten. He’s the minister of Mandalore. He’s fine.”

Rogaar started laughing, his laughs deep and booming and Satine stood up, shaking her head, though a large smile was on her face. Finally the game was over with Bo having two pieces remaining.

“Well, my lady,” Rogaar said, chuckling and shaking his head. “I don’t believe I have ever been that soundly beaten. You are quite good.”

Bo smiled broadly at the praise then turned to look over her shoulder at Satine.

“Wanna play?”

Satine’s heart soared. Since a week ago when she’d snapped at Bo, Bo’d been standoffish to her. To be honest, she missed her sister’s fire the last few days, but she looked over to Rogaar first.

“Oh, I am quite done. She’s too good for me.” He quickly stood and vacated his seat so Satine could replace him, so she heartily agreed. Both sisters quickly went about picking their characters and Bo grinned devilishly at Satine while Satine smirked back at her.

“Oh, you’re going down Bo,” she said.

The fun game quickly devolved into a competitive sibling war.

“You can’t do that!” Bo shouted as one of Satine’s pieces took out one of Bo’s.

“Yes I can! Look, see!” Satine responded, showing Bo the piece’s stats.

“There’s no way that’s right.”

“Yeah, well, it’s on here, so…”

Bo slammed the controls and moved one of her pieces, countering one of Satine’s and trapped it against one of her other pieces.

“Hey!” Satine shouted as her piece was slammed to the board.

“I can play dirty too!” Bo said, her face screwed in concentration.

Both sisters moved pieces rapidly here, there, clashing them against each other, until Satine had one piece left and Bo’s two descended on it. As Bo’s piece picked it up and slammed it to the board, Bo stood up and let out a war whoop that had one of the Protectors stationed outside poking their head in. Satine laughed.

“Well, I concede Bo. You’ve gotten too good for me.”

Rogaar shook his head, looking over the board and at Bo’s characters’ stats.

“You did better than me!” he said.

“Don’t mess with Kryzes and dejarik, sir,” one of the Protectors said and Rogaar looked over to him.

“You couldn't have told me this before?”

Bo then yawned and Satine looked at the chronometer.

“I think we will be retiring. Thank you for a lovely evening, Minister Rogaar.”

“Good night, your Grace, my lady,” he said before Satine and Bo-Katan departed for their rooms.

Satine had just finished tying off her braid when she heard a soft knock on her door. Padding over and looking through the view hole, she saw Bo and quickly opened the door to reveal her younger sister standing there, dressed for sleep.

“May I come in?” she asked, unusually shy. Satine stepped aside and nodded, worry creasing her eyebrows. Bo stepped in and looked around, her fingers fiddling with the bottom of her sleep shirt, before meeting Satine’s eyes. “I’m sorry for being so difficult this last week,” she said and Satine had to really listen to hear every word. Satine shook her head at her little sister and led her over to her couch and sat her down.

“No, Bo, I’m sorry for snapping at you. I shouldn’t have done that.”

Bo sat there quietly, twisting her fingers in her lap.

“I miss Mom and Buir.”

Satine smiled sadly and pulled Bo into a hug.

“I do too, vod’ika.”

Bo let herself be held then pulled back.

“Can I sleep here tonight?”

“Of course,” Satine responded and led Bo into her room, tucking herself and Bo under the covers. “Ni kar’tayl gar darasuum, Bo.”

“Ni kar’tayl gar darasuum, Satine.”

A week later and Satine was in the study going over possible safe houses with Minister Rogaar when the first explosions went off. At first, she stared dumbly out the window at the blasts of light and explosions that were visible outside. Then she was being dragged to her feet and out the door by her Head of Security, Lars.

“Get her to safety,” he directed to the two Protectors that were outside the door, pulling out his blasters and preparing to block the hallway. Satine felt one of them, Ca’tra, she thought her name was, grab her arm and start to lead her towards the hangar when a sickening thought struck her and she dug her heels in.

“Bo!” she yelled. “She’s in the library!”

Lars traded a glum glance with Rogaar and Satine tried to pull herself free, but Ca’tra held her firmly.

“We have to get you to safety, your grace,” she said.

“I’m not leaving her! Bo!” she screamed futilely, fighting against the Protector. At that moment Fenn ran into the hallway, skidding to a halt, alone. “Rau! Where’s Bo?!”

“It…it was my day off.”

“Carlson is with her,” Lars finally supplied and pulled out his comm. Fenn turned to Satine.

“I’ll go get her,” he said, but Lars stopped him with a hand on his chest.

“Stay with the Duchess. Carlson,” he called into his comm. “Carlson, do you read me?”

There was a beat of silence as everyone stared at the comm.

“Ay sir, I read you. We’re ok here. Bo-Katan and I are headed for the hangar.”

A sigh of relief echoed around the room.

“Jax, Riss, I want you to meet Carlson and help him bring the Lady Bo-Katan safely to the hangar,” Lars added into the comm.

“Copy that, sir,” a female voice replied and Lars turned to Satine.

“We’ll get her there safely. Go your Grace.”

Satine looked hesitantly from Lars to Fenn to Rogaar and finally nodded and let herself be led down the hallway, Rogaar and another Protector following. Fenn hesitated.

“Go with her Rau.”

“But sir,” he started to protest.

“Go. Carlson, Jax, and Riss are more than capable of getting the girl there safely. The Duchess needs you. Now go!”

Fenn nodded and with one last reluctant look towards the library he followed Satine.

The hallways around the library were filled with smoke and the too close sounds of explosions and blasterfire. Bo was letting herself be dragged down the hallway to the hanger, Carlson’s long strides covering much more ground than her small legs ever could. They were turning into the back of the compound when a thought hit her.

“Buir’s beskar’gam!” she shouted, digging her feet in and stopping.

“What?” Carlson whirled on her, confusion clear on his face through the opening in his helmet.

“I can’t leave it,” she said and tried to pull away, but Carlson held fast. Bo grunted and pulled to no avail until she finally reeled back and kicked Carlson in the shin. The shock caused him to drop Bo’s arm and she bolted. Recovering, he ran after her, but he quickly lost her in the smoke. He knew where she was heading and hoped he could cut her off and took another hallway, almost running into Jax and Riss.

“Where’s the girl?” Jax asked as she looked around.

“She took off on me. Pretty sure she’s headed for the armory.”

The three of them began to run in that direction but were met with a face full of blaster fire. They took cover and pulled out their blasters, returning fire.

“We don’t have time for this!” Riss shouted over the noise.

In the armory, Bo was quickly throwing all of her Buir’s armor into a bag. Once done she hefted it over her shoulder and grunted as it banged painfully on her back. It was heavy, but she gritted her teeth and ran. Ahead to her right she could hear blasterfire so she ran to the left, coughing as smoke entered her lungs. She tripped and almost went down but kept running until a dark shape blocked her path and she slid to a halt. An armored unfamiliar Mandalorian stepped out of the smoke and moved towards her. She dropped the bag on the ground and groped inside. Time slowed as the Mandalorian raised his blaster, then Bo raised hers, the one Fenn had taught her how to shoot, and fired, right at the unprotected part of his shoulder. The bolt struck true and he yelled, dropping his blaster and she shot again, hitting him in the leg and he dropped. Bo again picked up her bag and ran around him, not looking back.

Carlson, Jax, and Riss finally dispatched their attackers and arrived, limping in Carlson and Riss’s case, at the armory to find it empty.

“Dank farrik!” Carlson shouted, knocking over a stand and sending its contents flying. The Kryze armor was gone.

“She had to have headed back to the hanger,” Riss said and the three of them took the left hallway towards the other side of the compound. They passed one of the Mandalorian attackers shot and bleeding on the ground and Carlson finished him off.

“Does the Kryze girl have a blaster?” Riss asked as they ran down the hallway.

“Wouldn’t put it past her,” Carlson shouted back, but all three looked up in alarm with the sound of rending steel and the roof caved in on them.

Bo’s lungs were burning as she ran along the hallway away from the blasterfire and explosions. She then heard a large rumbling and screeching of metal behind her and turned to see a wall of dust come from one of the hallways behind. She found herself shaking but pushed herself to move. Rounding a corner, she slid to a stop and threw herself back as she heard helmeted voices up ahead and glimpsed unfamiliar Mandalorian figures round the corner and head up the hallway, the hallway she was about to take. Panic started to take her but she bit the inside of her mouth and looked to the left, to the hallway that led to the garden. Turning that way, she hiked the bag more securely over her shoulder and mapped out in her head the path from the gardens to the hanger.

Satine was beside herself just waiting in the ship. Rogaar’s aides had joined them, but his guards had remained to help the Protectors. It had been at least twenty minutes and Fenn tried to get a hold of Lars, Carlson, anybody, but to no avail. No one answered.

“We have to go back,” she said, heading for the door, but Rogaar stopped her.

“We can’t let you do that, Duchess.”

“She’s my sister!”

“I know.” He looked over her shoulder to where she knew Fenn was standing and nodded his head. She turned and Fenn was checking his blasters and heading for their landing ramp.

“I’ll find her, I promise,” he said, but as he was stepping down onto the ramp, blasterfire emptied into the hanger, pinging off the ship, and he ducked just in time to avoid a bolt headed straight for his head. Backpedaling, he hit the button to raise the ramp.

“We have to take off,” Rogaar said, heading for the cockpit.

“No!” Satine exclaimed, running after him. “We can’t! Please!” Her voice broke and she dropped her gaze away from his pitying look.

“The garden,” Fenn supplied, his face a stony mask. “We could try getting to her through there.”

Rogaar nodded and Satine looked up with hope. He tapped the pilot’s shoulder.

“Take off and try to circle back towards the garden.”

“Yes, sir,” the pilot responded and Fenn came to stand next to Satine. His face was pale and drawn and his fists were clenched as he stared out the front viewport. Satine felt the engines fire up and the ship lift then accelerate forward to the hangar opening. They cleared it and were banking back towards the compound when a huge explosion rocked the ship and propelled it forward, throwing Satine and Rogaar to the ground, Fenn barely keeping his feet. Satine cried in dismay and when she gained her footing she ran for a side viewport and sank to her knees at the sight. The compound, her and Bo’s home for the last month, was gone. She fell forward onto her hands, heaving sobs shaking her shoulders, her voice just a long drawn out wail of pain. She felt a hand on her shoulder and she turned, beating her fists onto the person’s armored chest as they wrapped her in their arms and just held her. Eventually the fight left her and she sagged against their body, her breaths coming in gasps, and she sank into darkness.

Bo had just made it into the garden and was circling one of the decorative metal statues when the compound behind her exploded. She threw herself into the hollow in front of the statue and could see and feel the flames as they split around the metal, red with tinges of blue and white. When she raised her head, her ears were ringing and she could see the garden was littered with debris: pieces of the wall, roof, even furniture. She saw some movement off in the distance and looked to see a ship, their royal ship, growing fainter as it rose then disappeared into the atmosphere.

No, no, no, she repeated to herself, staring at that spot in the sky. Her stomach dropped. They left her. She sank down onto the ground and curled around the bag with her dead Buir’s armor.

Mandalore’s other moon was rising when the ringing in her ears abated and she heard the crunching of boots on the debris around her. She grasped for her blaster and blearily peaked up and saw moonlight glinting off of Mandalorian armor. She fired.

“Osik!” a male voice shouted as the blaster bolt pinged harmlessly against his beskar armor. He pulled his blaster and aimed for Bo before another man came up and pushed his arm down.

“Hold your fire!” he called. Bo, exhausted, let her arm drop. The new man was wearing Mandalorian armor as well, though his was painted blue and black with a cream-colored trident above his T-visor. He looked her over through the helmet then removed it to show a young man with an angular face, bright blue eyes, and almost white blonde hair.

“You’re the younger Kryze girl, aren’t you?” he asked, coming to kneel by her. She didn’t react. “They left you, didn’t they?” She opened her mouth to deny it, then looked off into the distance where the ship had disappeared and dropped her eyes back to the ground. Anger suddenly welled up within her and she lifted her head, her eyes flashing.

“You!” she growled. “You killed my parents! You destroyed my home!” She lifted up her blaster to shoot him, but he was on her in a second, disarming her.

“I can see you are quite unlike your sister, Lady Kryze.”

“You know nothing about my sister,” she growled, spitting at the man. He wiped the spit from his face and laughed.

“You’re right. Only that she and your parents were trying to destroy our culture. Our culture that’s made us who we are for thousands of years.” He looked at the bag beside her. “What’s this?” he asked, pulling it towards him.

“Give it back!” she screeched, launching herself at him, but the other man, the one she’d shot, grabbed her from behind. She screamed and kicked, but he held firm as the other man unzipped the bag and pulled out her Buir’s helmet, emblazoned with the Kryze symbol.

“You are quite unlike your family.” He looked over her shoulder to the man holding her. “Bring her back to camp. Get her some food, water. And watch her.”

“Let me go!” Bo shrieked as he dragged her off into the night. “Satine!”

Satine came to on an unfamiliar cot in an unfamiliar room. She looked around, panicking, and then reality came crashing back down and she curled around herself and the sobs began to wrack her shoulders again. Her sister, her baby sister, who she’d vowed to protect, was gone.

“Your grace,” Fenn Rau’s soft voice broke through her sobs, but she wouldn’t raise her head. Wouldn’t look at him. She felt the cot dip and then felt his hand on her shoulder. “I’m so, so sorry.” Satine only curled tighter around herself and cried harder. Finally, she felt like she ran out of tears and gently pushed herself up. Fenn was sitting beside her, his eyes red and filled with sorrow. He broke eye contact and reached for a mug off to the side. “I thought you could use this.”

Satine gingerly reached out and took the mug from his hands, bringing it under her nose to smell. It was some herbal tea, but she couldn’t tell what. She took a sip and couldn’t really taste much either.

“Thank you,” she croaked. Her throat was raw from crying. The tea helped some.

“Here, I have something else for you,” he said and reached into a pouch on his belt and pulled out a piece of metal. He held it out to her and she gingerly took it. It was a brooch shaped like the leaves of the Concordia tree. “Bo gave that to me a few weeks ago,” he said, and Satine found more tears as they started slipping down her cheeks again. “I think you should have it.”

Satine fingered the piece then turned it over to see the Kryze symbol hammered there along with a B and a K.

“Thank you,” she said, meeting Fenn’s eyes. He nodded and smiled sadly at her and she collapsed against his shoulder, his arms encircling her and holding her as she cried.

Aruetti- outsider

Beskar’gam – armor

Mando’ad – Mandalorian

Verd – warrior

Ba’buir – grandparent

Buir – parent (in this case, father)

Verda – warrior (plural)’

verd’ika – little warrior (fond)

Dank farrik – generic curse word

Haar’chak – damn it

Vod’ika – little sister

Ni kar’tayl gar darasuum – I love you

Osik – shit

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