#the Mandalorian x oc

[dindjarindiaries]

Security - Chapter 56: The Waters

summary: The Djarin family and their ally make their way to the Living Waters to earn Din’s redemption once and for all.

warnings: drowning (incl. CPR descriptions), canon-typical violence, hurt/comfort, angst, fluff

rating: T

word count: 5.626k

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chapter 56: the waters

Having a guide to the Living Waters proves useful to Din now more than ever. He’s lost enough within his own mind, a haunting of shattered memories that makes the resounding ache within his bones grow more and more. They cast a shadow much like the isolated structures that surround them in the abandoned city of Sundari. It’s hard to make them out amidst the darkness and the mystery of it all stings like a nagging wound. Din wishes he could piece those painful glimpses of his memory together, but this isn’t the time. Astra will hold true to her promise to fill him in later on.

For now, he just needs to focus on doing what it takes to get his family back to safety.

Still, his lack of awareness doesn’t go unnoticed. Astra’s grip on his gloved hand tightens just before Din hears her speak in a soft voice. “Are you okay, Din?” She draws herself closer to his side, wrapping a hand around his arm. “You’ve been quiet.”

Din’s armored shoulders rise and fall in a heavy breath. He knows better than to try to hide from her. “I will be.” He looks at her and tightens his jaw at the sight of the crimson stain on her shoulder. There’s still so much he doesn’t know about what happened while he was out, but what he already knows threatens to tear his heart apart into relentless shreds. His family has already suffered so much because of his quest, and he couldn’t do anything to help them. “I just… need all this to be over.”

Astra takes a quick moment to rest her cheek against his arm. Her voice lowers to a murmur that’s just for them. “We’re almost there, my love.” She gives him a smile that convinces him everything’s going to be all right. “Safe and sound.”

Din’s visor lowers. With Grogu having healed Astra’s wound, she’s technically correct, but it still doesn’t feel true. The evidence is present in her torn tunic and in the ferocity with which Zora had clung to him once he woke. There are irreversible scars left imprinted on his family because of this quest that aren’t visible to the eye, and Din has to take responsibility for them.

Instead of drowning in these dismal thoughts, Din forces himself to look around and change the subject as he raises his voice enough for Bo-Katan to hear. “It’s hard to believe that this all was once filled with our kind,” Din observes. It’s true; This is the first time Din’s seen this civilization, one that’s much different than what once stood on Concordia. He wonders what the Mandalorians who lived here looked like. Did they all wear armor and take the Creed? Were any of them foundlings, like himself?

“It wasn’t that long ago,” Bo’s response cuts through Din’s musings. She pauses and observes their surroundings herself. “You’d never know it looking at all this destruction.”

Din shakes his helmet. “It looks like it’s been centuries.”

“The Empire set out to punish us. To wipe away our memory.”

Din tenses at that, especially when Astra’s grip tightens on him. He glances over at her and sees the faraway look in her gaze. He draws her closer as he responds to Bo. “It must pain you to see it like this after witnessing its beauty.”

“What pains me is seeing our own kind fight one another time and time again. Killing each other for reasons too confusing to explain. It made us weak. We had no hope to resist being smashed by the fist of the Empire.”

Din looks at Astra again. She seems even more distant now, her jaw set and her gaze watching her feet crush what remains of Mandalore’s old civilization. Din aches to comfort her, but Bo’s next words keep him from speaking.

“The entrance to the Mines of Mandalore,” she announces, carrying them ahead in silence.

Din exhales in relief. It’s as if they’re reaching the beginning of their forever. After this, he can finally make a home for his family. There won’t be any Jedi to seek or battles to fight. It’ll just be him, Astra, and their children enjoying a home that isn’t a cramped seat on an N-1 Starfighter. When he lets himself dream some more, he imagines what it might be like to cook a real meal together, or plant a garden of flowers he and Grogu can pick for Astra and Zora.

But then Bo-Katan lights the area around them and Din’s forced back to reality. He hasn’t done what he’s set out to accomplish yet. There’s no room for dreaming until Din’s redeemed himself once and for all.

“This area looks much older,” Din states, taking a cautious glance around.

“The mines have been here for thousands of years,” Bo informs him. “The Living Waters are in the chambers below.”

Din looks over at her. “Have you been there?”

“Yes,” Bo says with a breath, “when I was a child.”

Din raises his brow beneath his helmet. “Really?”

“I was part of the royal family,” Bo explains. “I took the Creed and was showered with gifts. But the rituals were all just theater for our subjects.” She glances over at Astra. “I’m sure you experienced something similar on Arilia, Astra.”

Din’s quick to look at his wife. She’s since painted an expression of strength and sweet nostalgia on her face as she nods. “Tradition is important all over the galaxy,” Astra agrees.

Bo nods to agree. “Mandalorians loved watching the princess recite the tenets as her father looked on proudly.” She utters her next words with harsh sarcasm. “Such a heartwarming spectacle.”

Silence sits amongst the group for a long moment. Din’s mind strays to memories of his own father and the assurances he was often offered as a child. His chest tightens and he wishes he was somewhere safer where he could hold his own children close. “Maybe he was proud,” Din speaks up to break the silence.

“I know he was. I didn’t embarrass him in front of everyone.”

Din tilts his helmet at that. The description she provides isn’t unlike the Mandalorians who helped to raise Din on Concordia. His tribe was strong under the Armorer’s careful watch, but he wonders what it would’ve been like to be united under someone such as her father. “Your father sounds like an interesting man. I would’ve liked to have known him.”

“My parents spoke of him with the highest praises,” Astra adds. Din looks at her and straightens his helmet. Astra offers a reassuring smile and squeezes his hand. Bid dral. So strong.

“He was a great man,” Bo agrees. She pauses before continuing. “He died defending Mandalore.”

Din stops in his tracks, causing Astra to do the same alongside him. It’s like he’s a little boy again, watching his father close the bunker door on him. Bo-Katan slows her movements a few steps ahead of them, turning to face Din with a confused raise of her brow. Din lowers his head in respect and speaks through a tightened throat. “This is the Way.”

Astra rests her head upon Din’s arm, a gesture of comfort that surpasses what Din could ever need. She brings him back to reality and frees him from the haunting memory, allowing him to move his feet forward again and head deeper into the mines.

Din hears the waters before he sees them. The light on his helmet catches them and Din’s very chest loosens with a relief he can’t quite describe. Bo nods alongside him and speaks. “Here you go. The Living Waters.” She takes them further inside, down the stone stairs and into the wide open expanse of the cave. Bo continues to speak, but Din doesn’t hear a word she says. He’s set on walking ahead and getting as close to the water as he can. Astra’s confused at his side, but in his desire to end this as quickly as he can, he can’t even stop to appease her. Din looks over the Living Waters and brings himself back to that moment when he was a child staring down his very first helmet and swearing upon the words he’s held to his heart ever since.

“Din?” Astra’s voice calls for him. It sounds millions of parsecs away.

“Are you all right?” Bo-Katan adds.

Din still doesn’t speak. Instead, he reaches for his cowl, unfastening his cape and setting it on the ground beside him. He does the same with his blaster and the Darksaber. Grogu coos with confusion and Zora remains silent, likely asleep from the action of the day. The last thing Din removes is his jetpack as he stands to his full height with a determined breath.

There’s only one thing left to do, now, before Din ends this nightmare: Thanking the person who’s stood alongside him through it all.

Din walks up to Astra and raises the lip of his helmet for the last time in front of someone who isn’t his family. It’s only high enough for him to take a hold of Astra’s face and pull her to him for a kiss that says more than he ever could, especially in a moment like this. He minds their audience and forces himself to part from her only to be gifted with her breathtaking smile of pride and affection. Din lowers his helmet and nods at her.

With her sweet love fresh on his lips and in his heart, Din focuses back on the Living Waters. The light attached to his helmet stays on as he steps down the stairs and enters the water with open hands, reciting the words he could never forget.

“I swear on my name,” Din begins, each word loosening the tense knots that have been tied deep within him, “and the names of the Ancestors, that I shall walk the way of the Mand’alor, and the words of the Creed shall be forever forged in my heart.”

Din finishes the vow and experiences a wave of freedom like no other. He’s about to take another step into the life he’s been wanting before he even knew it when the ground beneath him suddenly vanishes. With no time to pressurize his helmet and no jetpack to lift his heavy beskar above the water, all Din can do is watch the chasm pass him by and fight his hardest to experience the life he’s only just earned.

Astra’s tear-brimmed eyes of joy and pride for Din quickly turn to panic when his helmet vanishes beneath the water. Given the hardships they’ve already experienced on this journey, she doesn’t hold herself back anymore. She won’t let him slip through her fingers again.

“Din!” Astra cries out his name, her voice barely recognizable in her horror. She starts to follow him inside the waters, but her body’s only halfway submerged when Bo-Katan pushes her back and dives in after him.

Instantly, Astra’s brought back to that moment on Trask, when she was forced to watch Din be drowned while all she could do was sit there helplessly at the mercy of the Quarren. Zora’s sharp cry from behind her tears Astra from the dark memory and she snaps her head back to look at her daughter. Grogu’s trying to ease his sister, but his efforts are to no avail. He glances at Astra for help, his ears lowered in his own distress.

“It’s all right,” Astra says to them before she’s even made it out of the water. She kneels in front of the pram and takes her children’s heads in each hand, pressing a kiss to both of them with her eyes closed. “He’ll be back to the surface any moment, now.”

Her words are just as much for her own reassurance as they are for her children’s.

Astra lifts her head and glances over her shoulder. There’s still no sign of Bo-Katan or Din. Zora’s cries echo throughout the cavernous space, and even Grogu lets out a few worried whimpers. Astra’s heart tightens with a prominent ache at the thought of Din hearing his children cry for him yet again. She struggles not to join in their panicked grief.

With a sound that makes Astra jump and turn around, Bo emerges from the water with Din clutched in her arms. She’s forced to practically throw him to the ground at the top of the stairs, his beskar hitting the stone with an unceremonious clang. Astra all but runs to his side as Din coughs and wheezes before going silent.

“Din,” Astra breathes, unable to raise her voice for fear of breaking apart. She holds his helmet between her trembling hands, though her focus goes to his cuirass. It’s not moving. He’s not breathing. “Din!”

Nothing. Astra glances up for a moment and sees that Bo’s frozen where she is, her visor looking out upon the Living Waters. Despite Bo’s lack of focus on the two of them, Astra can’t remove Din’s helmet to make sure he’s okay. She refuses to make everything he’s just gone through be for nothing.

Astra tears Din’s cuirass off and presses one hand over the other on his chest. One. Two. Three. She won’t stop counting until thirty. Astra’s aware of Zora crying behind her, but it’s drowned out by the emptiness of her shared panic and focus. She can’t do rescue breaths and she can only hope that the compressions will be enough. “Come on, Din!” Astra pleads behind gritted teeth. “Come on, riduur! Come back to us!”

Astra’s almost to thirty and he hasn’t moved yet. She’s desperate, pressing hard to expel the water from his lungs. Twenty-five. Twenty-six. Twenty-seven.

“Come on!”

Twenty-eight. Twenty-nine.

Then, at long last, the galaxy does Astra a favor.

Din gasps before he starts to cough. Astra turns him on his side, letting the water escape him as she releases a breath she didn’t realize she was holding. She leaves one hand on his helmet as the other stays on his arm, keeping him steady on his side. Zora’s wailing gets louder as Astra’s awareness of her surroundings returns, but she can’t bring herself to leave her husband’s side. Astra glances back at her children and sees Grogu setting a hand on his sister’s head to ease her to sleep just as he did with the rancor.

Din rolls on his back and makes the move to sit up. Astra helps him, her hands still trembling with adrenaline as she grabs his cuirass and puts it back on for him. He grunts in his effort and leans his arm against his knee while Astra sits back on her heels and watches him take a few deep breaths. She never thought she’d be so happy to see him do something as simple as breathing before.

Astra’s eyes flood with tears just at the thought of it.

“I am redeemed,” Din says, his voice hoarse and broken.

“We witnessed it,” Bo-Katan assures him. She glances over at the two of them. “For better or for worse.”

Din’s visor snaps over at Astra upon hearing her words. Astra nods at him and hopes he can’t see the way her vision’s started to blur. Din tilts his helmet at her and she struggles to find the words to say. “I’m proud of you,” Astra finally says, cursing to herself when her voice starts to break.

Din sets a gloved hand on her thigh. He doesn’t say anything, but he doesn’t need to.

“And I’m… relieved.” Astra tightens her lips and looks down at his hand. She sets one of hers over his. Her next words are barely even a whisper. “I was scared.”

Din’s hand on Astra’s thigh tightens. His voice is almost just as broken as her own. “My cuirass was removed when I woke.”

Astra nods, her lips starting to tremble as she curses to herself for it. Din’s all right and his quest has been completed. But she can’t stop seeing the lifelessness in him as she fought her hardest to keep him alive.

“Astra… ner kar’ta…” Din can’t go on and he doesn’t need to. He moves closer to Astra and takes her in his arms as best as he can. She wraps her arms tight around his middle, burying her face in his cloth-covered neck. Din’s hand keeps her head held there while the other runs over her back. Astra’s relieved that her tears fall silently while Din speaks to her in a low and broken voice. “I’m so sorry. I know how much I’ve scared you today. You’ve been so, so strong and you shouldn’t have had to be.” He pulls her in tighter. “I’m so sorry.”

Astra shakes her head and gains the faith to raise it from his neck. “Don’t be.” She manages a smile as she holds his helmet between her hands. “I agreed to come on this journey with you, and despite the hardships we’ve faced…” her smile widens and she pulls his helmet against her forehead, “you’ve finally done it.” She runs her thumb along the curve of his beskar cheek. “Like I said before, I’m proud of you. So proud.” Astra pauses, swallowing back her fears once and for all as she looks into his visor with severity. “This is the Way.”

Din lifts a hand to her cheek in hardly concealed amazement. “This is the Way.” He exhales as if he’s releasing the weight of the entire galaxy from his shoulders. “I love you.”

Astra beams at him. “I love you, too.”

“I’ll make all of this up to you,” Din goes on, his voice low enough to keep his words between them. “I promise.”

“I know you will.” Astra glances past Din to see Bo-Katan standing restlessly to her feet, and when she looks at Grogu, he’s also quite anxious alongside his sleeping sister in their pod. “For now, I think it’s best that we get going.”

Din looks around the area for himself and nods. “Agreed.” He struggles to his feet and Astra helps him, causing him to thank her with another Keldabe kiss. She stays by the pod while he steps forward to fill the container on his belt with the Living Waters. Once it’s secured in place, he joins their family, his gloved hand petting Grogu’s ear as the little one coos with delight.

“Can I ask you a question?” says Bo suddenly from behind them.

Din doesn’t turn his helmet to face her as he responds. “What is it?”

Astra watches Bo adjust her vambraces as she hesitates before going on. “You see anything down there?”

Din reaches for his cape and Astra helps him put it back on. “I saw the chasm passing me as I fell.” Astra tries not to grimace at his words as she reaches for his weapons. “I didn’t realize it was so deep.”

“It wasn’t.” Bo looks over the waters again. “The bombings from the Purge must have triggered seismic activities.” Astra can see her walking away from them out of the corner of her eye, though she stops to ask another question. “Did you see anything alive?”

Din pauses what he’s doing and looks at Astra with confusion. “Alive?” He turns to face Bo. “Like what?”

Bo shakes her helmet. “Nothing.” Astra furrows her brow, but when Din shrugs it off, she also dismisses the matter. “Let’s get out of here.”

“You don’t have to tell us twice,” Astra remarks, drawing a huff from Din as he sets his hand upon her back and eases their family forward.

Their journey back to the surface of Mandalore is much smoother this time around. Most of it is spent in silence with everyone lost inside their own thoughts amidst the aftermath of such a tumultuous excursion. Din stays as close to Astra’s side as he can manage, something she appreciates, and he asks only one question about the Living Waters. “Did Zora sleep through all of it?”

Astra grimaces, unable to hide it when the memory returns to her. “No. I accidentally woke her up.” She glances at the pod, where Grogu remains alert alongside a sleeping Zora. “Grogu eased her to sleep after I helped you…” She’s not sure how to finish.

Din nods in understanding. His visor also focuses on the pod that trails alongside him. “So, they both saw what happened.”

“They did.” Astra looks at their hands and entwines hers with his own. “But they also saw that you’re okay.” She gives his hand a squeeze. “That you’re strong enough to go on.”

Din squeezes her hand in return, but says nothing. Astra tries not to tighten her jaw at the thought of how he’ll react to everything else she still has to fill him in on. Instead, she rejoices in the true beginning of their forever, the completion of their quests with the redemption that’s been weighing heavily on his heart ever since Morak.

On the surface awaits Bo-Katan’s ship, a Kom’rk-class fighter transport. The Gauntlet has much more space for their family than the N-1, which allows for safe and quick travel back to where the starfighter awaits on Kalevala. Din sits in the co-pilot seat across from Astra with a drowsy Zora resting upon his armored shoulder while Grogu remains in his pod, leaving Astra to admire her husband and daughter with a faint smile.

Silence blankets the hull as they exchange Mandalore’s broken surface for the stars. Astra watches the atmosphere slam against the transparisteel of the viewport until the peace of what lies beyond falls over them. It’s the first time she can truly breathe since they first landed on the planet. To have made it out alive and well is nothing short of a miracle, especially given everything that happened in the mines.

Both Astra’s musing and the silence are broken by Din. “Bring us to our ship and we’ll be on our way,” he tells Bo-Katan. He never once looks away from Zora as her little hand tugs on his cowl. “You’ll forever have my gratitude.”

“I would invite you all in for a feast,” Bo remarks with a hint of amusement before she glances back at him, “but I’m guessing that helmet isn’t coming off again.”

Din nods and looks out the viewport. “This is the Way.”

Bo-Katan returns the gesture. “This is the Way.”

Astra’s about to add her own utterance of the phrase when Grogu suddenly cuts her off. He babbles in a pattern that’s similar to what Din and Bo have both just said. Din eases his grasp on Zora to turn his body in his chair as he looks back at Grogu while Astra does the same. They share a gaze of disbelief. “Is he trying to—?” Astra begins.

She doesn’t get a chance to finish. An explosion from outside the viewport rocks the entire ship, causing Bo, Din, and Astra to brace themselves where they sit. Zora whines in Din’s arms as he assesses the situation. “We took a hit,” he announces, his voice tightened in focus. He hands Astra off to Zora and she takes her without hesitation, allowing Din to focus on the systems at his side. Zora fusses in Astra’s arms and she tries to soothe her.

“Something’s coming up on us fast,” Bo informs them. She tilts her helmet. “It looks like a squadron of TIE interceptors.”

Astra’s heart plummets into her stomach. “Interceptors?” she echoes. She hasn’t seen any since the Empire was at its peak.

“How close are we to Kalevala?” Din questions.

“Not far,” Bo answers.

“Get us back there and I’ll reinforce from the N-1.” Din fixes whatever systems he can. “Can you evade them?”

“Our shields aren’t gonna hold,” Bo insists. “I need you to back them off.”

“I can help,” Astra chimes in. She stands when Din does to set Zora inside the pram alongside Grogu. An explosion rocks the ship and Din instantly wraps his hands tight around Astra’s arms to keep her steady. Once they’ve regained their balance, they nod and sit at their respective weapons stations. Astra glances at her joystick and wastes no time joining Din in blasting whatever she can.

“Where’d they come from?” Din asks Bo.

“I’ve scugged off a lot of Imperial warlords,” she offers.

Din takes a quick glance back at her. “They tend to get mad when you hijack their ships.”

“And steal their weapons,” adds Astra.

“Now you tell me,” Bo mutters with slight amusement.

Astra listens for Zora and Grogu as Bo pilots the Gauntlet into Kalevala’s atmosphere. Her daughter’s whines have now turned to giggles, causing Astra to shake her head with a fond smile. Zora’s love of chaos is no doubt something learned from her father, who had already passed it on to Grogu before she came along. Even Astra herself has grown somewhat fond of the action they often find themselves in.

“Get ready,” Bo announces to Din. “We’re comin’ in hot. I won’t be able to slow down for the drop.”

Astra frowns at that. Perhaps she’d spoken too soon about loving action.

“Interceptors are a lot tougher than TIE fighters,” Din observes. Astra had been thinking the same thing, seeing as she’s only just damaged one of the interceptors.

Bo looks back at Din. “Are you still up for the transfer?”

Din stands and braces himself on his chair. “I don’t see any other choice.” He stops beside Astra and sets a hand on her shoulder. “Stay here with Bo and the kids. I’ll be right behind you.”

Astra sets her hand over his own. She looks at him with the corner of her mouth tugged up in a sly smile. “Give them no mercy, riduur.”

He tilts his helmet at her. “That was the plan, cyar’ika.”

Din steps forward to make his way out of the cockpit. Astra forces herself to take a deep breath and focus back on the vidscreen in front of her. Din can take care of himself. It’s up to Astra to take care of herself, their children, and their ally.

Astra can see Din join the TIE interceptors on the radar for just a quick moment. She grits her teeth at how close they get, though she makes herself aim and fire at her targets regardless. Astra gets one and she celebrates to herself, though she’s aware that it’s only one small victory in a sea of threats. Bo weaves the Gauntlet through the landscape and Astra does what she can to take more interceptors out.

Astra’s body only floods with relief when she hears Din’s voice come through the comms. “I made it to the N-1,” he informs Bo. “Heading to you.”

Bo weaves through the cliffs and Astra grits her teeth at the tight fit, despite how she trusts Bo’s piloting. Still, her tension must be somewhat evident, as the Mandalorian soon raises her voice to speak to her. “Don’t worry,” Bo reassures her. “I grew up flying these cliffs.”

“I wasn’t too worried,” Astra responds. “I know you have it under—,” she cuts herself off when they scrape against one of the cliffs, only continuing once they’ve observed the TIE interceptor that explodes just behind them, “control.”

“It’s been a while,” Bo jokes.

Astra chuckles and continues to do what she can on the weapons. It’s difficult between Bo’s skilled evasion and the craftiness of the TIE interceptors. Most of her shots only serve as distractions, but Astra takes whatever she can get. She can only hope that the Gauntlet’s shields are holding up.

Then, another ship appears on Astra’s vidscreen. She grins as the N-1 swoops in and easily takes out one of the interceptors, in true Din Djarin fashion. “Thanks for the backup,” Bo says through the comms.

“Always a showoff,” Astra insists with a fond smile.

“Two more to go,” Din reminds them.

They weave through more of the cliffs. The angles make it nearly impossible for Astra to get a good shot in. She tries anyway, some of her blasts hitting either the cliffs or the surface of the water. “Go right,” Bo instructs Din. “We’ll meet you on the other side.”

Din does as she says, quickly disappearing off Astra’s vidscreen. When he reappears, another one of the TIE interceptors disappears. “One down, one more to go.” Astra’s grin only widens at his words. She’ll never get tired of how he makes even the most difficult task look easy.

Astra tries to claim the last interceptor, but Bo relieves her of such pressure. “I’ve got this one,” Bo tells her. Astra turns in her seat and watches Bo power down the engines and pull hard on one of the joysticks, letting the ship freefall and turn to face the TIE. Once they’re head-on with the interceptor, Bo launches her own blasts, demolishing it into a final ball of fire. Astra braces herself as the ship continues to fall, her jaw hardened until Bo restarts the engines and pulls up on the joysticks. Both of them bounce a few times in their seats when gravity returns and Astra heaves a breath of relief.

“Everyone okay in there?” Din questions through the comms.

“Couldn’t be better,” Bo assures him. Astra nods to agree with her, taking advantage of the calmness to sit back in the copilot seat and check up on the kids. Zora and Grogu are both smiling as they look out the viewport and see the N-1 flying alongside them. Astra joins them as Bo continues to speak to Din. “Not bad for an antique.”

“You take any damage?”

“Just shields. Astra covered the rest.” Astra smiles at her subtle praise. “You?”

“Not a scratch.”

Astra huffs at that. Bo holds back a chuckle of her own as she responds. “Let’s take ‘em in just to be sure.”

Astra watches as Bo looks through the viewport and nods at Din, who returns the gesture. Din’s visor meets Astra’s gaze even from a distance and fills her with a strong wave of warmth. Even after all the tribulations of the day, here they are, able to enjoy a moment of peace that remains suspended in time. For the first time since Astra’s known Din, it feels like they have what they’ve always wanted: time.

Then comes the alarm from Din’s comms. “Hang on,” he warns. “I’m seeing something on the scope.”

When Astra hears the explosions from a distance, her heart sinks, her stomach hollowing like a deep and dark pit. Bo-Katan gasps and Astra watches her grasp on the joysticks tighten. “No!” she exclaims through a tightened throat, pushing the Gauntlet ahead to watch as more TIE interceptors destroy her castle.

The feeling is all too familiar for Astra. She looks over at the closed pram beside her and sets her hand on it, seeking comfort without putting her children at risk.

“Those mudscuffers bombed my home!” Bo seethes. Astra lifts her gaze to watch as Bo launches the Gauntlet in close pursuit of the fleeing interceptors. Unease sticks like tar to Astra’s chest watching Bo’s composure lessen and lessen. The Mandalorian even fires a torpedo at one of the TIEs, causing it to burst into a cloud of flames similar to the ones that hung over her home.

“Bo, we’ve got company,” Din informs her. Bo remains unaffected, still in pursuit of the interceptors. Astra tightens her jaw and tries to think of a way to soothe her before she flies Astra and her children into danger. “Bo, listen to me. You have to get out of there.”

Astra watches through the viewport as Din pilots the N-1 in front of the Gauntlet to gain Bo’s attention.

“There’s too many of them.” He doesn’t waste a single breath, though his voice strained as he goes on. “You have my family with you. Don’t let these attackers take even more from us.” Astra doesn’t miss the desperation in his voice as he pleads with her one last time. “We’ve got to get out of here.”

Bo pilots them into the storm of TIE interceptors before she finally pulls up on the joysticks to follow Din towards the atmosphere. The interceptors pursue them, but the N-1 and the Gauntlet are faster in their escape. Bo speaks amidst the chaos as if she’s thinking out loud. “That’s a lot of ships for an Imperial warlord.”

“I’m sending jump coordinates,” Din informs her.

“To where?” Bo questions.

“Someplace they won’t find us.” Astra wrinkles her brow at first when she hears Din’s words, but then it hits her: the covert. It’s well-hidden, and once Din gets his redemption recognized by them, they’ll be able to finish their quest once and for all.

Astra releases a breath once the blue lights of hyperspace are passing them by, her eyes closing in relief. She’d been too stunned to say anything to Bo after the weariness of the day, despite how close they were to being at risk. From their initial descent on Mandalore to this close call on Kalevala, the toils of this journey have felt almost just as intense as their last one. All Astra wants is to rest safely in the arms of her husband with her children nearby, finally at peace and in a place they can call home.

That’s a future that’s, at long last, just in reach.

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[amiedala]

SOMETHING HOLY

CHAPTER 6: Pulse

WARNINGS: angst, explicit content

SUMMARY: “If you’re trying to get me to hurt you,” Din grits out, “you’re going to have to do a hell of a lot better than that.” 

Her heartbeat, her pulse—both skyrocket. “Why would I want you to hurt me?” But Nova does. She wants to be annihilated by her Mandalorian. She wants pain from him, pain that drowns out the ghosts inside of her, deep enough that she could rise from the depths anointed. Reborn. Renewed. She needs something holy to cling to, to carve her true self out of.

“You need to come back to me.”

AUTHOR'S NOTE: HAPPY SOMETHING HOLY SATURDAY!!! me posting the next chapter within a two week span? WILD! i hope you love this one... it was equally fun and painful to write <3

If you're new here, Something More & Something Deeper are the first installments in this series, available on here & ao3!

It’s not morning. It’s never morning. Not out here, in the crush of space. 

They are in a windowless room. They are in transit, in limbo. 

Din’s going stir-crazy. He watches Novalise, steady, eternal. He doesn’t need the mask, not in here, not at all, really, not anymore—the woman sleeping by his side is something so much holier than his Creed. But his fingers are still clutched around it. He’s not sure if that still qualifies as religion. If he can pray to the helmet like he used to. If he can truly pray at all. 

When Din does pray, it’s not to the Maker. It’s not a vow to the Mandalorian Creed. It’s to the stars around him, above him, the ones that surround him now, that Novalise’s head will be safely returned to her body. That she won’t slip away. Not into the ether. Not into the pinpricks of light she’s so devoted to. She shines in the dark, his Nova. His locus, his temple, his fixed luminous point. 

He wants to believe in her the way she does in goodness—steadfastly. Without question. But right now, she’s… altered. Made darker. Flickering around the edges. 

He doesn’t think anyone else has noticed. Wedge probably would’ve, at this point, if he were here. He knew Nova before she was Nova at all, and there’s an inextricable thread that loops them together, that is woven as tight as family. Bo-Katan probably knows, from thousands and thousands of miles away, that something is off. Her sharp eyes are always trained on Nova. Her bloodhound nose picks up signals almost immediately. And Grogu, sweet, eternal Grogu—with his father’s steadiness, with his mother’s heart—touches those little fingers to Nova’s collarbone and can feel it in words that none of them can name. 

Din takes stock of all of this. The room is still pitch-dark. He can see Nova’s outline, shimmering. He’s not sure if he actually can, or if he’s just memorized her shape, but the semantics don’t matter. She’s sound asleep, a tiny whistling noise coming from her nose. And his heart, how it aches in his chest. 

“Nova’s different,” he imagines himself saying. He can’t figure out who. He needs someone like her to take a look, inspect her, interrogate her in a way he can’t. He doesn’t know what the warning signs look like for a Jedi—when they’ve tipped over into another world entirely. But that’s the problem, and that’s why Din can’t ever picture who he’s saying those damning, strange words to—Nova’s always lived in a different world than he has. She’s made of more—of starlight and shine and magic, magic he has never touched, a kind of divinity he used to thrash for, fight for, kill for, and yet—

She’s haunted. But more than that, she’s taken something out of the dark and transfigured it, transfixed it. She’s made it her own. 

And yet, there’s nothing in this galaxy or the next that could keep him from this kind of holiness. Din Djarin has spent this lifetime bringing people to their knees. Cutting off heads of hydras, slashing through blood and flesh and bone, and he’d beg for forgiveness over and over and over and over if it meant he could worship at the altar of Novalise Andromeda Maluev Djarin—savior of worlds, star in the sky, and the holiest thing he’s ever held in his filthy fucking hands. 

There’s something off about her. Something different. 

And yet. 

Din presses his hand into his tired eyes. He’s weary. Beaten-down. He wants to shake something, to take it in his hands and make meaning out of it. To grab the thing haunting Nova by the throat and force it out of her. To cut it down to size, into piecemeal. But whatever it is inside of her, and he doesn’t know if this ghost that’s chasing her around is a Jedi thing, or a Nova thing, and he cannot hurt her or he will blame himself forever. 

A tiny, terrible part of him whispers: Ezra would be able to fix it. The earlier version of that sentence is Luke would be able to fix it, but Din knows Luke, trusts him, knows what he lacks in subtlety he makes up for in flamboyance and kindness in equal measure. Luke Skywalker, according to Nova, according to everyone else in these circles—well, he’s kind of a big deal. Luke is to the galaxy publicly what Nova is to Din privately, and he knows enough about the man to trust him with his kid’s training and his wife’s heart. 

But Ezra Bridger—Din doesn’t know him. Nothing past visions and reverence; mystery and intrigue. He is a man who exists but doesn’t, and he lives in Nova’s head. And as much as Din knows Ezra is the key to fixing so many things, that he’s good, selfishly, irretrievably, he is jealous. It festers inside of him like rusted steel. Like an open wound. He is not proud of it, this enormous, awful feeling, but he cannot tamp it down. 

Din wants to be the only man who lives in Nova’s head. And he is certainly not good. Not pure. Not made out of the light. He is a bullet made of beskar, a steel-sharpened blade. It festers inside of him, an open wound. He wants to be good, to be worthy. 

To be deserving of the prayers that leak out of his covered mouth.

And yet, this impossible quest is now close to home, to something Nova considers holy—the remainder of the Rebel Alliance, her legacy, her roots, and he cannot let this feeling rear its ugly head. Can’t let it out of the cell he keeps it in. He is both jailer and prisoner, and it haunts him. 

Everyone on the Ghost is carrying their own ghosts. And he’s here again, at the intersection of ghosts and religion, of haunting and the Creed. And Novalise, in the middle of it all, in the middle of everything.

Circles. Din’s thinking in circles. 

He needs to get off this fucking ship. 

Nova inhales—sharply—once, twice, and then she jackknifes upwards, waking up like she’s fighting a war. One she’s losing. 

Din is on her in a heartbeat.

*

“Did I wake you?”

In the dark, Din shakes his head. Nova can feel it. She could even without any part of their bodies overlapping, even though they are right now, entangled like roots. She moves in closer, trying to shake the dreams from her head. To come back down to earth. Pressing her hand to the metal above her head, reassuring herself she’s safe, she’s okay, she’s herself— 

“What?” 

That word—it’s so soft. Nova closes her eyes, pressing the heel of her hand to her heart like that can manually stop the racing. She wills it to quiet, for everything to sink back down to normal, but panic is still leaking from her like a sieve, running like adrenaline through her veins. “What?” she repeats back at Din, deflecting. 

“What were you dreaming about?” 

Nova shifts in the vantablack. “That’s always the question, isn’t it.” 

A beat. “Novalise.” His voice is delicate, knowing. 

It makes her want to kiss him on the mouth and shove him away in equal measure. It shocks her, the violence of that—the intensity. In the quiet secrecy of their hideaway, she digs her fingernails into her palm, enough to draw blood, to gore the rest of the darkness out. Nova takes a steadying, stuttered breath. 

“Teeth,” she whispers. “So many teeth.” 

Din is quiet. “Is that a metaphor?” 

Nova manages a mirthless, tired smile, even though he can’t see her. “Most nights, I hope it is. This one? I don’t think so.” 

“Nova,” he says, so quiet. 

Nova sighs, squeezing her eyes shut tight. “It comes in flashes.”

“The teeth?”

The sickening thrash of all of it. That’s her answer. But Nova doesn’t know how to vocalize that—that she, child of the light, has been bathed in darkness, swaddled in it. It’s started to become familiar, and she hates it, but she is so tired of fighting an upward battle. 

“Yeah,” she mumbles, unceremoniously, praying that’ll be the end of it. She shifts closer to him, burying her nose in Din’s neck. He smells like metal and cinnamon, like always, but there’s something else on his skin—mint, maybe? It smells foreign, like the interior of this ship, and decidedly not the Crest, and not Kicker, and that makes her heart ache even worse. 

Din’s quiet. Pondering. Nova wrestles with wanting to tell him everything—Sparmau leaking back into her dreams like poison; Thrawn’s deep, unsettling voice. The ones where she’s fighting the unnamed villains that slice through her head. And the worst ones, the ones that feel so dangerous and raw that it makes her want to claw her eyes out—where she hurts Din. Where she hurts Grogu. Where Nova is not Novalise at all. 

“I can’t… speak it aloud,” she whispers slowly, so quietly it’s just a breath. “I can’t even put words to it. It’s just… darkness.” It’s both the truth, and not, and obfuscating it makes Nova feel sick, but she puts a hand over her stomach and presses hard, forcing herself to swallow it down. “I don’t know what to do, Din.” 

Seven small words; the weight of the world. They settle around Din and Nova’s entwined bodies, settling in like snow. Lethal and cold and dangerous, blanketing them in it. 

Din’s quiet. Observant. Nova can sense it, the feeling of his brown eyes on the side of her face, tracing it from memory. She swallows, trying to keep the tears at bay. She feels—off-kilter. Sideways. Like the version of herself she used to be able to wear like a shield—unbreakable, indomitable Novalise, rebel girl and starchild—was left behind on Mandalore. Like she’s wearing the version of that Nova’s skin, but the second she embarked on this journey, she left her behind. Like she’s possessing herself. 

And Nova can’t undo it. She feels wrong.

“You do what you’ve always done,” Din says, finally, and the words that she used to live and die by feel like a knife now. “You fight back.” 

“I am,” Nova manages, heavily, angrily, “so tired of fighting.” 

Din doesn’t speak, but she can feel his soft exhale in the dark. He moves closer, always closer. Something in Nova flares. She can’t tell if it’s want or anger, and the blurring of that line terrifies her.

“I need you,” Nova whispers, needing the words to be true. She reaches for Din, tracing down the line of his torso, reaching to cup him between his legs.

A hand shoots out to stop her. Lightning-quick. His grip is unyielding. It cuts so deep. Nova sucks in a wounded gasp. “No,” Din says, and there’s no warmth to it at all. “You don’t.” 

Nova recoils, blinking back sudden tears. “Din—?” 

“You are using this,” he whispers, stroking a thumb over her cheekbone, “me, as a bandage for what you’re feeling. I want you in every way but this, cyar’ika. Something is wrong, and you cannot use me to drown out that feeling. It won’t make it go away.” 

Nova feels a knife somewhere through her heart. It surges into her, white-hot panic. “Please—” 

“Novalise.” Her name feels distant, like it’s echoing from faraway, a place that isn’t this ship, a place that maybe isn’t even out in space at all. “Stop.” 

She sucks in a breath, shattered. “Din,” Nova breathes, ragged, heartbeat thumping off something wild. “Please touch me—” 

“No.” 

She pulls away from him. Violently. Nova digs her nails back into her bloodied palm, shaking when she realizes this is real, very much not a nightmare, and the glitter and snap of the jaws of darkness begin crooning at her. She is wrong. Something is definitely, decidedly wrong, and she is teetering on the edge of losing it, and she is exhausted, bone-weary, and there’s flames licking down her throat, between her legs, and she wants to be voracious, to feed, to drown everything else out with the thrush of Din inside of her—

Something snaps. From deep inside of her. A low, keening noise, the one she was making—it dissipates, suddenly. Nova feels—strange. She stands up, stick-straight, sweaty, freezing. 

“Novalise.” 

She doesn’t move. Doesn’t even breathe. There’s a low scratching sound, coming from inside of her, gnawing. 

“Nova, you need to tell me what was in your dream.” 

She doesn’t move. She feels feverish, but this is a different kind of fever than the one she felt when she was slick with need, wanton, heavy. Nova feels—unhinged. 

“Me.” 

But her tongue—her tongue is not her own. The snarl that rips out of it is something else. Nova can feel it, the taste of it, and it’s wrong and bloodied and so awful that she puts her palm to her hand and screams into it. 

Din is on her in a second. “Baby—?” 

That word—it is not theirs. Not without danger preceding it. Nova thrashes, once, twice—she is undone and desecrated. Her body is not her own, it is a channel, a conduit, and the Not-Nova, the ones from all of her darkest dreams—she is slithering around inside of her, whispering, crooning, seductive, and Nova cannot grab herself, hold the evil at bay. Bring herself back into the light. 

Din surges forward, catching her body, holding her, cradling her. 

“Novalise.” 

She surges back into her body like a crescendo. A wave. An electric thrum exploding. Nova shudders, and Din flips the lights on, and she looks at him in confusion, because they were not on this ship, her soul was on a different plane, like she was caught between worlds, and Din’s holding her in his arms, his bare hands. He is not a Mandalorian, not protected from her in beskar and bullets, not behind a shield. He is a man, and, Nova realizes, sweat-slick and freezing, he is breakable. 

He’s looking at her like she’s—a ghost. 

Nova can feel the tears welling up in her eyes. She’s thankful for them, this proof that she is herself. She is emotional and undone, yes, but she’s not unhinged. She does not belong to the darkness. Din wipes the pad of his thumb across her mouth and it comes back bloody. 

“What,” he repeats slowly, softly, so gently it aches, “happened in your nightmare?” 

“I wasn’t myself,” Nova whispers, “and when I woke up, it stayed.” 

Din blinks. Fear is so foreign in his eyes. She looks up at him, half-lidded, through wet lashes. 

“I don’t know what to do,” she repeats. 

This time, he doesn’t tell her to fight. He doesn’t tell her anything. He just stares, and Nova can tell how scared he is. Unshakable, unbreakable Din Djarin—she’s terrified that she will become his undoing. 

“Nova,” he whispers.

Something else snaps. Thunders. Strikes like lightning. She stands up, stick-straight—like she’s just been blinked back into reality. “What just happened?” 

His eyes, barely recognizable in the dark, widen at her. “You woke up screaming. I asked what you dreamed about. Then you… Leaped out of bed. Onto the floor.” 

Nova stares. “What happened in between?” 

He goes to reach for her, and Nova flinches. Flinches. Not because she doesn’t trust Din’s hands on her—because it’s the only thing she trusts right now, the only thing that’ll keep her anchored. “I didn’t—I didn’t touch you?” Something flares low in her stomach. She thinks, this time, that it’s danger beckoning. 

Din rears back like he’s been slapped. Nova can’t tell if it’s from her flinch—so loud, so bright, even in the darkness—or if it’s from her words. 

“You woke up,” he whispers, “and got out of the bed like it was made of fire.” 

Nova swallows. She can’t get a grip on reality. It’s seismic, kaleidoscopic—she can’t make out what’s real and what isn’t, and she clenches her fingers harder down on her hand. “What happened in between?” She’s repeating herself. She’s not making sense. 

“You told me you dreamed of teeth. That you were scared of yourself. And then you leapt out of bed, away from me.” His voice is low, strained with something. Anger,  Nova realizes, anger, and probably confusion, but he’s schooling his tone to be as neutral as possible. 

“Away,” she repeats, “from you.” 

Din nods. She can’t see much, but if she could, Nova would be watching his jaw clench, the muscle jumping as Din grits his teeth together. 

“And you’re mad at me for that?” She can feel the sick swell of anger taking over her own body, and Nova tries to fight it, shut it out, but it feels—good. Alive. More alive than she’s felt in weeks. Since defeating Sparmau. No—since Din chased her down like prey on Naator. “You’re mad?” Her voice is breathy, low. 

“No.” 

“I don’t believe you.” Nova’s hand reaches out, flicking on the dim light. Din is silhouetted by the bulb behind him, and his face is contorted—with anger, maybe, but also fear. She can smell it on him. She wants to slam herself into him, to have it burn her down, to drown out all of the noise. But she doesn’t move. She just watches him. “I don’t think,” Nova whispers, even-keeled, all ice, “this counts as running from you.” 

It’s not fair. That word carries such a weight. She wants to take it back the second she says it. Nova swallows, blinking, that anger de-crescendoing out of her faster than it spreads. She feels sick. 

“Din—” 

“You want to play it like that?” 

“No.” Nova takes a step backward, clenching her nails back into her palm, feeling fresh blood whisper across the new cuts. “No, I don’t want to play at all. I’m sorry—” 

“I followed you into the darkness,” Din says, and there’s nothing there, no emotion, and somehow that sluices through her even deeper. The blade of his words is so sharp. “You cannot go anywhere I couldn’t find you. That place doesn’t exist.” 

But it does, that monstrous, traitor inside of her whispers, because I belong to something more, and there are places I go that Din cannot follow. 

“Din—” 

“If you’re trying to get me to hurt you,” Din grits out, “you’re going to have to do a hell of a lot better than that.” 

Her heartbeat, her pulse—both skyrocket. “Why would I want you to hurt me?” But Nova does. She wants to be annihilated by her Mandalorian. She wants pain from him, pain that drowns out the ghosts inside of her, deep enough that she could rise from the depths anointed. Reborn. Renewed. She needs something holy to cling to, to carve her true self out of.

“You need to come back to me.” 

She blinks. That cuts, but not with sweet silver blades. With something serrated. Dulled. She steps back as Din steps forward. 

“I haven’t gone anywhere—” 

“We both know,” Din whispers, “that’s not the truth.” 

“Something,” Nova says, “is wrong with me.” 

It’s like those words wake him right up—startled out of a dream. Not the one of her sick reflection in the mirror—something that’s held Din equally as captive. 

“Nova—”

But her name and haunted look in Din’s eyes is interrupted by three sharp knocks at their door. 

*

The door unlatches with a cold hiss. Hera stares at both of them. Din can feel her gaze hanging heavy on Nova, her sweat-slicked skin, her bloodied lips, her hair raging like a wildfire around her face. She is barely clothed and he is helmeted, half-armored, and he knows what this looks like, and it makes him feel sick. 

But Hera just blinks once, twice, then rights herself. She carries herself like both a mother and a soldier. It reminds Din so much of Nova. “I’m sorry,” she says, both crisp and genuine. “I didn’t want to wake you, but we have a problem.” 

Din squares his shoulder. Nova wipes the back of her hand across her mouth. She snaps back into herself—Mand’alor, Jedi, Rebel, all in equal measure. Now that it’s back, written into the code of her DNA, it makes it even more obvious that the Nova he was just interacting with was… wrong. 

“What?” 

Hera swallows, digging her hands into the pockets of her bomber jacket. “You need to come to the cockpit.” They file after her, Din feeling naked and undone without the rest of his armor. He watches Nova as she follows Hera up to the front of the Ghost. She plucks Grogu—asleep—off the copilot’s chair and settles down into it, eyebrows knitted down the middle. 

“Before I play this,” Hera says, “I need you to know that I trust Wedge Antilles with my life at this point.” 

Nova recoils. Din can feel his heart sink. 

“Me too,” she offers up. Din nods once. Sharply, in assent. 

“Great,” Hera says, “but I am also not listening to the warning he explicitly gave me. So.” A pause. She’s watching Nova closely. “And if you want to heed it, you are allowed to. I will walk into this fire alone. I would prefer not to, but I will.”

Din’s frustrated. But Nova—Nova offers Hera a tiny smile, a spark of something he hasn’t seen in days, and he cocks his head to the side, ready to follow her into the flames. All over again. “I,” Nova says, gently, evenly, “have explicitly ignored many warnings Wedge Antilles has given me for the sake of doing something stupid yet necessary. And the last thing I am going to let you do,” she continues, leaning forward to clutch Hera’s hand, which Din just now clocks as trembling, “is jump into that stupid yet necessary thing alone.” She pauses, squeezing down. “What happened, Hera?” 

Hera inhales, exhales. It’s shaky. Din watches her, carefully, through the silent safety of the visor. She leans forward, pressing a button on the screen. Din hears what Bo-Katan and Wedge are saying. He understands the situation—Thrawn’s massive Star Destroyer hanging over Bespin and Hoth like a bad omen—but he doesn’t register how dark it is, how deep. All he can think about is that Bo-Katan—Bo-Katan—is shaking in the blue light, Hera’s hand is cinched so tightly over his wife’s that it’s about to snap, Wedge is telling them it’s a lost cause, and Nova—

Nova’s face is not what he expected. Tears, Din would have predicted—lots of them, silently streaming down her beautiful cheeks. An expression of well-earned grief. For the destruction of a planet she’s considered like home, for the last true active Alliance base, for the people that she’s protected her entire life. But Nova’s face has hardened into resolve—true, unadulterated determination. 

It’s the one she wore when she fought Sparmau. It’s the one she’s worn in every act of Rebellion, every time she’s been a savior. She is a warrior at her core, and the face she is wearing is nothing but fight and glory. She looks like that version of Novalise—her true self—is slowly waking up.

There she is. Then, quieter: Thank the Maker. 

“I know Wedge said—”

“We’re going to Hoth.” Nova lifts her chin. “We’re going to fight.” 

Hera looks at her with fear and relief. Din can’t tell which one is winning. “We need fuel.” 

Nova nods. “Then let’s get it quickly.” 

“I should mention,” Hera says, slamming her finger down on the hyperdrive button, letting the Ghost thud out of warp, “we’re refueling on Corellia.” All of them lurch in the sudden drop, but they’re braced for impact, fortified with the muscle memory of living out in open space. 

Quietly, Din speaks through the modulator: “That’s convenient.” 

A smile glitters across Nova’s face. A true one. 

“I hope you’re prepared to fight Wedge on his warning,” Hera says, lowering the thrusters as they slowly start to sink onto the cesspit named Corellia. “Because when we land, you’re both going to find him and Bo-Katan.” 

Din shifts, refusing to display any of what he’s feeling. He is strong and stoic, a bullet made of beskar. He’s a Mandalorian warrior, and he is not afraid. Except the first time he and Nova were on Corellia, he killed a rogue bounty who would have made shrapnel out of her. And the last time he and Nova were on Corellia, he almost lost her to visions of Sparmau and herself. Death, Din has concluded, is in the air on this stars-forsaken planet. 

Corellia and Din Djarin are, decidedly, not friends. 

He sighs. Nova gleams. She looks over at him—full of knowing, that look, and something else he can’t entirely place—and extricates herself from the chair with the giddy grace only she has ever possessed, slipping back into their room to don more clothes than secondhand baggy trousers and a barely-there tank top. When he turns back around, Hera’s eyes are on his, dead-on, through the visor and all. She doesn’t miss much, Hera Syndulla. Against his permission, Din shrinks and shifts under her gaze. 

“Convenient,” he echoes, finally. “That fuel and the Mon Cala vessel are both down on Corellia.” 

She blinks slowly. “I wanted this reunion to be in less dire circumstances. But, for better or for worse, these are the lives that we’ve chosen to lead.” She sighs. 

Din observes her. Hera carries herself with the same precision, the same rigidity, that he does. What they lack in magic is made up for in skill. “Do you think this is a good idea?” He can’t tell if he means Corellia, or Hoth, or fighting at all, but the sentiment is the same regardless. Wary, murky. 

Hera lifts her chin. “I think this is war, and we can’t play it safe.”

Din nods. “I agree.” Hera holds his gaze, uncanny, those blue, discerning eyes, and he turns away, to go after Nova, to right the wrongness that they both held earlier—but Hera’s soft hand lands on his unarmored arm. He jerks away, like he’s been burned, instantaneously, and she rescinds her touch. Nearly as immediately. Din’s respected Hera from the second she rescued them, but even more so now. 

But her eyes—they burn with grief and loss and it hurts him to look at her head-on. He knows his own eyes burn with the same demons. It’s part of the reason he keeps his helmet on for the most part now. Din doesn’t know how to school his expression in the way non-Mandalorians do. But, he realizes, it doesn’t matter, because everyone in his life seems to see right through the visor anyway. 

“Din,” Hera says softly, “I loved a Jedi, too. It’s…difficult. I know what their world is like, and it’s full of horror and wonder that we cannot understand.” 

He stiffens. “Ezra?” 

A small, sad smile dances across Hera’s mouth. “Yeah. Ezra, too.” 

He pauses, turning back around to fully face her. “What happened?” His question is low, urgent. Probing. He feels like he’s betraying Nova, but he needs to know. “To your…other Jedi?”

Hera swallows. Her face is written with sadness. That’s not something Din normally notices, but it’s like a beacon, like—like the way Nova feels. Full to the brim of emotion, so big that it overflows. “He fancied himself a martyr, too.” A flash of her eyes on his. “Don’t,” she whispers, “let Nova give into that sentiment. The rebellion will live on without her, but it will never be the same.”

“Hera—”

“You love her?” With the weight of this galaxy and the next, he loves her. But Din can’t speak that aloud. He just manages one terse, fervent nod, and knows she understands. “Good,” Hera says, “then you keep that light alive.” 

And with that, she releases him, and the spores of terror that have been festering in Din’s stomach spread and spread. 

*

Nova doesn’t have armor. Doesn’t have anything, really, anything other than her own tank top and the pants Hera lent her, which must not have been Hera’s at all, because Hera’s got curves, but not like Nova’s hips and thighs, and these are belted tight around her waist. Her hair is hanging down her back, braided halfway, the rest of her rogue curls hanging loose out of the elastic. Her skin looks sallow, typical from spending so much time in the vantablack of space. Her lips are puffy, her eyelashes long and tangled, her torso wrapped in a shawl and one of the extra jackets hanging on the back of the Ghost. She smooths her hands over the front of the ill-fitting jacket—cropped above her waist, the sleeves too long—and wishes, for one of the only times in her life, that she did have armor. That she was just a Mandalorian, just the Mand’alor. That her biggest responsibility was uniting a people that had been razed and divided, not given to them in fragments—not this leader that was equal part Jedi and Rebel, with Mandalorian sprinkled in. 

Her reflection—it looks like her. Nova hitches in a breath, afraid to peer too close, afraid to see the Not-Nova looking back. In her dream, she had teeth that snapped and glittered, a gaping maw of horror and half-ness. But the only thing reflected is her face, her body, her eyes. Nova smiles, and it’s soft—echoing glories and morning, sunlight filtering through the cracks. No razors. No darkness. She feels relief spark up in her heart like an old friend, and she touches her fingers up to her reflection, willing it to stay. 

“Good enough,” Nova murmurs, and then she’s out the door. She presses her lips to Grogu’s wrinkled forehead on her way by, squeezes Hera’s hand with a silent promise, and looks up at Din—obscured, always, but she knows his eyes are locked tight on her like a tractor beam, like a place of worship, like… he’s watching her. Carefully. Steadily. Two things she doesn’t feel. “Ready?” For a minute, before he nods, she’s caught in it, suspended, the way he’s holding her hostage, captive. Safe.

“This goes without saying,” Hera murmurs, and Nova’s reverie is broken, “but please don’t take any risks down there. Get out, find the rest of the crew, and get back here.” She swallows. “We don’t have time to waste.” 

Nova nods. “Be safe. Getting the fuel. Corellia is…” 

“This place,” Hera says heavily, slamming her fist to disengage the hiss of the ramp, “is the least of my fears.” And the gangplank lowers, revealing the gray slush of Corellia’s crime-ridden, grimy surface. Nova inhales, exhales, grabs onto Din’s gloved hand, and walks down the ramp. 

Din has the tracking chip in his hand. Nova walks behind him, out into the abyss. His body is tensed, a steel bullet, a weapon of mass destruction. She keeps her face low, obscured from the light, but she can feel the seedy, dangerous gaze of the people that pass by her. She’s got nothing of worth, no pockets to pick, but her sabers are loud and vibrant on her belt. One light, one dark. There’s a metaphor in that, somewhere, but Nova is too busy watching Din as he dances through the low light of Corellia, powerful and precise as a lothcat. 

Once upon a time, she tried to barter with him. Back when he was just the Mandalorian and she was still Andromeda, lifetimes ago, ages back, what feels like years and years. To leave her here. On Corellia. Because she felt guilty—guilty that she wasn’t able to fend for herself, that he picked her up in the Crest, that they were strangers. It feels impossible now. To look at the man in front of her and see anything other than the love of her life, her locus, her true star. 

“What?” His voice is low, throaty. It filters through the modulator, slipping off into somewhere deeper, and Nova shivers. They step through an alley, a slice through two walls, puddles and brick littering the ground around them. “I can hear you.” 

Her eyebrows furrow. Nova takes one step, two, and then Din’s whirled back around, hooking a gloved hand under her chin. It’s bold and determined and vital, and Nova sinks into the black hole of his grasp. Slowly, Din cocks his head to the right and Nova thrills. 

“Hear what?” It’s barely a whisper. 

Din sighs, an exhalation, coming out low through the vocoder. Nova bites down on her lower lip, blinking up at him through half-lidded eyes. “Your thoughts,” he grits out, “are so damn loud.” 

Nova licks out a line over her split lip, and Din sags. Just for a second. Then his arms snap out, bracketing her on either side. She sinks back against the wall, body slamming into the wall with a sick, satisfying thud. “What am I thinking, then?” 

Din doesn’t move. “No.” 

Nova blinks. “No, what?”

Din blows out a breath, again, low and languid like a smoker. Nova’s heart clenches, then something lower, wetter. “You’re being,” he grits out, low, almost angry, “a fucking distraction.” His words cut through, like a knife. Nova loves the way it sings through her. “We have a job to do, Novalise. And we need to talk about what happened earlier. We have other things to finish first.” 

Nova knows. She knows. But frustration and want are pouring free from her, sluicing through her body, desperate and wanton. Din is the only thing that has ever silenced that panic—that’s ever made her quiet. “I know.” 

“People to save.” 

Reality floods back in. Just a little. Nova doesn’t put words to it, because it’s awful, it’s horrible, it’s venomous, the thought. That she’s so tired, tired of always being the savior, tired of chasing an impossible reality. That she wants to be selfish, to feel Din’s hands on her like a salve, like a resurrection. Like she could open her mouth and let him whistle in, dirty, filthy things exhaled, sweat dripping down to the steel floor. Like it could make the visions disappear, like it could flood out all of the weight hanging over her head. 

“I know,” she repeats, dully, but Din’s gaze is still on her, locked-in, seizing her closer and closer. 

“I’m not touching you.” 

Nova’s gaze flickers over him, to the arms that are clenched hard against the wall. “Not even a little?” 

“A little,” Din hisses, “with you, is everything. I can’t stop once I’ve started. And we have a mission to do. I’ll ask you again, Novalise. What do you want?” 

Nova bites down on her swollen bottom lip. Reality is running currents through her. She needs to get her head on straight. To remember what she’s here for—there is a planet at stake, there are people to save, and she is being selfish, so selfish, but the monster inside of her head is purring, and Din’s body is like an oil slick, and she is undone and starving. 

She knows—in the back of her mind, where rationality still lives, she is whispering to herself—Din will not touch her. Din will not drown her like she’s begging to be drowned. Novalise is starving. Emaciated—deprived of touch, touch she had hours ago, because Din’s body is both her heaven and her hell, and she is addicted to it. Addicted to the fix that is her husband, her Mandalorian, her weapon, the love of her life—she has a mission to do, she has the fate of the galaxy on her shoulders, and she’s hungry like an addict, and all she wants to do is feel Din sinking inside of her, rhythmic, seismic, pushing her down, deep enough where the only pain that exists is him, the only salvation is his hands, his mouth, his letting her breathe—

“Novalise.” 

She blinks. “What I want and what I need,” Nova whispers, shaking and undone, “are two very different things.” 

She hears the way Din’s breath catches in the modulator. “Nova—” 

“You know what I mean. We’ve been through this already.” She leans in closer. Her breath fogs up his visor. With the strength of a thousand stars, she wrenches herself free, ducking under Din’s arm and moving out into the maw of Corellia, needing to put distance between their bodies before she does something rash, before she gets on her knees, before she loses sight of her mission— 

“Nova,” Din calls behind her, his voice sharp and heady—needy—and Nova keeps moving, clutching the tracker in one hand, silently blinking out the correct path to Bo and Wedge, away from that dangerous, razor-sharp desire, because she will slit her throat with it if she stays here. She will give into it, into the plunge, and she will not be able to extricate herself. “Hey—” 

His hand closes around her wrist. It’s sweet, sweet relief. She snaps back around, so fast that they almost crash into each other, yanked back into the alleyway. “Don’t hide. Don’t run from me.” 

“I am not running,” she whispers, everything faint against the feeling of his touch against her skin, “I am losing.” 

Losing time, she means. But losing—grip. On herself. On reality. Like she’s been—drugged. Or like she’s living across different timelines, almost identical, but not close enough to match. She blinks, once, twice, and then Din’s surrounding her again, even as she tries to move forward. 

“What is going on?” 

Nova stops—almost letting Din collide with her, beskar and all—but she looks at him over her shoulder, sirenlike, dangerous—and catches exactly where she knows his brown, deep eyes are locked on her, laser-sharp. She doesn’t know. She doesn’t know, and it terrifies her, because she is muddied and violet, pitch-dark with desire and shame, and Nova has never felt indecision like this before, this terrible seam ripped open inside of her stomach. She doesn’t know. 

She doesn’t know anything except the basics. She doesn’t want to fight—not anymore. She wants to win. She wants a quiet life with the man she loves, and she wants this galaxy out of turmoil, but the dark thing leaching inside of her stomach wants to be selfish, and it’s terrifying, and she has no idea how to put this into words—to be Novalise, just Novalise, the girl the Mandalorian picked up on Nevarro. Everything flashes before her eyes, lightning-quick, the beats of her life—from sacred touches to low breaths, to commlink calls to tender kisses, to sweat-slick sex to awful rainstorms of tears, to death, to life, to this moment. Can we start over? Nova thinks, reality cold and crisp in Corellia’s mangled air, and then— I feel…wrong—

“I can’t tell what’s real—”

“Wait.” Din steps closer, but the visor is pointed down at the blinking tracker in Nova’s hand, suddenly gone silent. “They’ve dropped off.” He puts his hand to his helmet, and Nova watches him, dazed, shaking, like she’s woken up from a dream, guilt running like ice through her veins. “Bo-Katan? Can you hear me?” 

No answer. Static. Silence. Then—Nova hears it, faintly, the incredulous, frigid voice of Bo-Katan Kryze. It’s one of the best sounds in the universe. “Din?” 

Din’s body sags, just a little, and Nova feels the same sweet relief coursing through her, overriding the sick sense of awfulness she feels—at letting want overtake need, at wanting something selfish rather than something more—and she swallows it down. This is not the place for want. This is the place for fighting. 

Din projects the frequency outward, grabbing Nova and dragging her in close, close enough that the two of them can hear it, but the quickening dark of the heart of Corellia around them doesn’t. “We’re in the middle of the city,” Bo-Katan says, “hiding the best we can. Din, this place is crawling with—” 

“I know.” His voice, low through the modulator, vibrates against Nova’s ribcage with her body pressed almost flush against his. “Don’t move, okay? Stay where you are.” 

“Not an option,” Wedge cuts in, “there’s troopers and bounty hunters everywhere, and the Mon Cala we were with sold us out.” A blaster fires. “Look, we’ll hotwire a ship and come meet you. Where are you located? Still in hyperspace?” 

“No,” Nova says, and there’s yelling and fire through the comm, and panic replaces relief and guilt in equal measure, “we’re on Corellia, we’ll come to you. What’s your coordinates?” 

Silence. 

“Wedge?” 

“You,” he says, sourly, “are a terrible listener.” Someone shouts, and Wedge curses under his breath. “We’re in the middle of Coronet Center. Do not come here—” 

It’s too late. Din clicks the radio off, stifling Wedge’s voice, and then he’s grabbing Nova’s hand in his. She looks over at him, silently resolving to figure it all out later, to pull herself together. His hand clenches in hers, and he nods, and then they’re running, entwined, into the heart of the storm. 

*

Din’s thoughts on Corellia hold fast. This place is crawling with unfriendlies—from the stormtroopers armed up to the nines with blasters and weapons to the bounty hunters with blades of steel to the men who keep looking at Nova sideways. The deeper and deeper they crawl, sinking into the pit of Coronet Center, Corellia’s capital city—it becomes clearer and clearer that no one here has good intentions.

His eyes slide over to her. Too much. Enough to take his eyes off the prize. Navigating this city is a hellscape on a normal day, but with their friends trapped in the belly of the beast and his wife unsure, unsteady—Din doesn’t feel in control.

He’s felt like that a lot lately. Out of control. He can’t figure out why. He wants, and that want pulses low inside of him. The desire to get the hell out of here whispers to him, wheedles, croons. It lives under his skin like a parasite. Back on Mandalore, before they left to go find Ezra, before they left for the Unknown Regions, Din told Nova he wanted to just go back to Naator. But that wasn’t possible. That’s not in her nature. She doesn’t abandon things. She doesn’t give into the same selfish haunts. She’s stronger than that. Than anything, really, even while she’s seeping through the cracks. If a woman could be forged from beskar, it would be Novalise. 

She’s walking like she’s injured something. Din watches her out of the corner of his eyes as Nova steps—gingerly, carefully—across the grayscale streets, littered with scrap metal and trash and terrible things. Needles. Bones. Corellia is a grifter’s paradise, and she does not belong here. Her hip, he thinks, something’s wrong with her hip. Probably still injured from the starfighter crash, and him sinking to the hilt inside of her hours ago probably didn’t help. 

“Stop looking at me with those eyes,” Nova whispers, but it’s playful. Lighter. 

Din shoots her a sideways look. “I’m not—”

She lifts her chin, swinging her head around to check the alleys behind her. It’s getting darker, and on Corellia, that means more dangerous. Nova’s hand finds her belt, where her yellow lightsaber and the Darksaber hang. She palms her own, then the Darksaber. Din watches this too. “I know where your eyes are at all times, Mandalorian.” Nova smiles, and, Maker, Din’s stomach lights up with butterflies. “Even under that helmet.” 

“You’re hurt.” 

Her face shutters. Just a little, but Din’s an expert in Nova’s micro-expressions. “Nothing I can’t handle.” 

He tilts his head to the side. “Can you please tell me what your dream was about?” 

Her face contorts. “It’s not related.” 

“Novalise,” Din sighs, “you are the worst liar I have ever met.” 

She narrows her eyes. “Me. Okay? Like I told you. I was myself, and then I wasn’t, and I keep hallucinating things, and the reason I need you to keep touching me is because it’s the only real thing I can hold onto.” Nova licks over her lip, tongue lingering over where it split back in the crash. Din wants out. He wants to gather Nova in his arms, jet out of here with the pack strapped to his back, shoot his way to Bo and Wedge from the air. He can feel eyes on them from the shadows, though, and anger flares in his chest. 

No. Not anger. Something worse.

Fear. 

“Nova—”

“No,” she whispers, but she grabs his hand for a second, squeezing down, “not here. We’ll talk about it all later, I promise—” 

He hears it before he sees it. A blaster, drawn out of his holster. Din ducks and yanks Nova down to the ground alongside him, razor-sharp and quicker than breathing. She doesn’t yell—in fact, she goes quieter, and when the shot ricochets off his armor, Din’s already got his own blaster out to return the fire. He doesn’t have his vibroblade, but he wishes for it; to sink between the notches of armor and sear into the trooper’s skin. 

They weren’t shooting at him. They were going for Nova. 

Her hand is already at her waist, but Din moves faster. He cuts forward, steel toes light against the Corellian ground, and he’s on the trooper before another shot can even hit the barrel of the enemy’s gun. He fires, once, twice, then kicks the dead trooper to the ground. Nova’s watching him, wide-eyed. 

“There’s more.” 

He whips back around, ready to fire. He doesn’t need to, though. 

Nova’s hand pulses over the sabers hanging on her wrist, and without a second’s hesitation, she’s ignited the blade.

Corellia doesn’t glow yellow. 

No. It flickers with the angry, pulsing energy of the Darksaber.

*

The Darksaber used to be heavy. Like it was resisting her. Not anymore, Nova realizes, as stormtroopers pour out of alleyways like ants, storming across the ground around them. Din’s quicker, a soldier—but she has a weapon in her hands that’s meant to be wielded. Once upon a time, killing was a haunting, awful thing. She still aims to stun, to disarm—not to cut down. But she could. With this blade in her hands, Novalise could bring an entire city to its knees. She moves like a Jedi and fights like a Rebel, and she cuts forward like Mandalorian. Simply. Like it’s written into her DNA. 

Din, in her periphery, is dropping trooper after trooper. But there’s… there’s more, coming out of the cracks, incessant. Nova knows that something is amiss. She can taste it in the air, heavy and metallic, the tang like blood. Corellia is crime-ridden, yes, but this is different. And then there’s other people, not troopers. 

Bounty hunters. 

“Din,” she calls, and he turns to look at her, and Nova can feel the panic flash, white-hot through her veins. They’re surrounded. Completely. She feels like she lost time—she was just cutting them down, cleaving through the air like it was nothing, leaving the troopers’ forces scattered. But she blinks, just once, and she’s surrounded, but white masks and evil eyes alike, and Nova feels adrenaline and fear slice her clean through. 

“Nova!”

But he’s choked out by the thrush of troopers, hundreds of them. Nova loses sight of him. She tries to cut through, and then a bounty hunter flashes his teeth at her, and she stumbles, the blade of the Darksaber snarling as Nova falters. 

“I thought you looked familiar.” 

Nova clenches her jaw. “I don’t think we’ve met.” But he looks familiar. His expression does, at least—darkness gathering there. 

He laughs, an evil smile curling across his face. She can feel the ranks closing in behind her. Nova lifts her chin, holding the weapon higher in her hand. “Oh, we’ve met,” he says, cocking his head to the side, a sick glint emanating from his eyes. “You’ve done a good job transforming yourself—Novalise, is it now? Come a long way since you were tied up like a prize on that ship.” 

Nova’s stomach clenches. “You—” 

“Shame Jacterr didn’t like his things to be touched.” He surges forward, hand outstretched to caress her body. “But he’s not here now, is he?” And Novalise explodes.

Fury swings forward, flooding everything else out. Nova screams out, cutting, cleaving, using the Darksaber as it was intended. A weapon fit for a king—in the hands of something more than that. Something stronger. Nova slices and knifes with the blade until there is blood on the ground and pink mist of a man in front of her, and she feels nothing. Just anger, red-hot, pulsating like lava, and she cuts through stormtrooper after stormtrooper, until she can see Din again, surrounded by bounty hunters.

“Hey!” Nova screams, loud enough to echo across the surrounding buildings, “Mandalorian!” 

Din’s head doesn’t fully turn—he’s blasting with one hand and choking out another trooper with the other—but the side of the helmet flashes her way. 

She holds up the Darksaber, blade still ignited, transfiguring everything into greyscale, and shouts again. “Catch.” She tosses it through the air, high above everyone’s heads. Din’s gloved hand snaps out to catch it. Perfectly. Like it has been his all along, like it belongs to him. Like it’s craved his touch, like it’s breathing a sigh of relief to be reunited with his hand. Nova offers him one radiant, glowing smile, and then she’s ignited her own lightsaber, turning everything to yellow, then to ash. 

Together, slowly, Din and Nova clear a path through the thrush of troopers and hunters, cutting fast and hard and away, and then—

Something happens.

She can’t see it. But she can feel it. Nova stutters—like her body stops working. She can’t describe it—this feeling. A shuddering. It rips through her like fire and shutters her defenses, and even with the saber in her hand, she feels—depleted, suddenly. Hair’s standing up on the back of her neck. 

And a second later, she knows why. Din cries out, a noise that she’s only ever heard him make when he’s wounded, a soldier cut down in battle. There’s a bounty hunter trying to pull his helmet off, another one gripping his neck, exposed, now, his tan skin a beacon in the dark. And even though Din is allowed to be Din now, Nova’s anger roars through her, the weight of an exploding star. She surges toward him, troopers crawling over her like vermin, like bugs, but she will not let anyone in this world take Din’s autonomy away from him, not again, not ever— 

“Novalise.” 

It’s her own voice. 

She turns. “Not now,” Nova whispers, cutting through white armor with her golden blade, trying to let everything drip out of her, trying to tap into that sense of magic that runs like a current through her bloodstream. 

“Novalise.” 

She turns. It’s not the version of herself from the nightmares. It’s the version of herself from the future, the one gilded and saintlike, untouchable—holy. 

“Help me,” she whispers. Bring me back, she means to say, and this version of herself smiles, reaching out to touch her face. “Get me closer, help me—” 

“Novalise.”

Exasperated, exhausted: “What?”

“You have all the weapons you need.” A beat. “Call it by name.” 

Nova closes her eyes, and when she reopens them, it’s like lightning has surged through her veins. Back when she was fighting Sparmau, all the Jedi had told her don’t throw it away. This was an echo chamber of that, a repeated cycle, an endless paradigm—call it by name. 

It’s one word. Her name. “Novay’lain.” It’s a whisper with the force of a scream. And all the light floods back into Nova’s body. Everything that was dimmed, covered in gasoline, or nightmared into reality—it stands no chance. To radiate. To shine. 

She tears through the rest of the troopers and hunters like an asteroid. She is singular, Rebel girl with the Force aerating through her bloodstream. She’s on Din faster than any of the rest of them can, and she’s swinging and cutting her blade through the air, white-hot and gilded. All of the darkness settles into her bones, the light shooting to the surface. She could wield the weight of the sun if she needed to, to get to him. The hunter prying Din’s helmet off is cut through the middle. Sawed off. Torso in two pieces. Nova doesn’t even blink. 

“Come on,” she whispers, dropping to her knees beside him. “Let’s get out of here.” 

Din spits something out onto the ground, splattering over the armor of the dead trooper at his feet. Blood. It looks like blood. He yanks his helmet back down, the illusion of the untouchable snapped back into place, and then he shakes his head at Nova, sighing. “I thought you’d never ask.” 

Electric, white-hot—that’s how she feels. Illuminated, yes. But on fire. Nova is moving with adrenaline that doesn’t feel borrowed. Not anymore. She is supercharged, a yellow blade, surrounded by silver and nettle, divinity and blood. 

They’re firing like bullets down alleyways. Din doesn’t have the tracker out anymore. She doesn’t have a hard and fast map of where Bo-Katan and Wedge are, but Nova doesn’t need it. She feels them, can hear their heartbeats, can sense their wounds. She turns, frantic, down another alleyway, and then Din’s hand slips out of hers. 

She stumbles, catching herself on either side of the alley’s walls. “Come on,” she whispers, gently, turning around to face him. “We have a mission to complete, remember?” 

“Nova—” 

“They’re right on our tail, Din,” she says, blinking rapidly, heart hammering a brutal rhythm out against her ribs. “Come on.” 

“Wait, no—” 

“Din,” Nova says, out of breath—why is she suddenly out of breath? She sags back against the wall, the light inside of her chest rapidly dwindling. Her vision is flickering. “Din—?” 

“Cyar’ika,” he whispers, “stop.” 

Nova does. She looks down. 

Impaled in her stomach is a blade. “Oh,” she whispers. Her vision blurs further, and then her knees are buckling, collapsing—

“Novalise—” Panic flashes through Din’s voice. “No, don’t you dare—” 

And then, like a dying star, everything goes pitch-black. 

*

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AHHHH I HOPE YOU LOVED IT!! this was such a headrush to write. i am SO excited to share this one, and i hope you're ready for the next chapter. i've already started writing it and man… i cannot wait to share it!!

thank you, as always and eternally, for reading, for being here, and for sticking with me <3

CHAPTER 7 COMING SOON!!! for day-to-day updates, follow me on tiktok @ padmeamydala :)

xoxo, amelie

[hydrangaces]

din djarin you're poetic god.

[poedjarinwrites]

STAR GIRL | DIN DJARIN

Masterlist

'my mother called me her star girl...'

Din Djarin x fem!OC

Kenny, Jyn, Saviin, Bela... just a few of the names she has gone by over the years. Constantly on the run from the empire and bounty hunters alike our heroine must try to survive in this unfair galaxy.

strangers to enemies to friends to lovers -the clone wars, season 7 -kenobi -the mandalorian, season one-

Prologue, the prey

.0, mother

Act One, the apprentice

.1, like father, like daughter .2, satine .3, his favourite daughter

Act Two, the daughter

.4, thief .5, breakfast .6, stars .7, my jyn .8, dead or alive .9, master, father, anakin

Act Three, the bounty

.10, the bounty hunter .11, trade .12, carbonite .13, nothing .14, monster .15, eighty-three .16, bed side manner .17, tin .18, years gone years .19, touch .20, good old days .21, just a kid .22, deepest darkest .23, here with me .24, over .25, saviin kryze .26, din djarin .27, din and saviin

Act Three, the jedi

(originally posted on Wattpad under the username, poedjarin)

Disclaimer; I don't own Star Wars or The Mandalorian, all I own is my own original characters and plot lines. TW; violence, death, anxiety, PTSD, sexual asualt/harassment, torture, and other agressive topics will be discussed

[winniethewife]

Outcaste (Din Dijarin x OC)

Ret'urcye mhi

Last chapter ~ Next chapter

Words: 580

Din went and sat down right beside her on the bed as he gently reached out and took her in his arms. He knew that she was clearly stressed out and he wanted to help her and he knew the best way he could do that was for him to be there for her and to try and be as comforting as he could manage. He could tell that she needed to relax and he wanted to be the one to help her with that.

“Come here, Mesh’la.” Din said to her as he wrapped his arms around her and held her close. She thought about resisting. But the feeling of his arms around her was just what she needed. She rested her head on his chest plate and took a deep breath. It's a little moment of peace. She just wishes it would last forever.

“Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum.” She says softly. Din continued to hold her close as she took a deep breath and he felt her head rest against his chest plate. He knew what she was going through and he understood all too well how hard her life was, he truly wanted to make all the bad things stop for her so she could just live a simple life of peace and happiness like she deserved. She was going through so much right now and he knew that he had to be there for her like she was for him “Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum, mesh’la.” He repiled in kind.

~

Earlier in the day they had just caught the bounty and were on their way when Althea got a transmission from Bo-katan. She took the transmission in the other room while Din ties the bounty up. He overheared part of the conversation both of them sound worried. He hears Althea say something that made his blood run cold.

“Aunt Bo, I know this means a lot to our house, clan and you but I can't just leave.” He had heard Althea speak and the sound of fear in her voice He knew that Althea didn't want to leave him, and he knew that she cared deeply for Din, but her family was also a huge part of her life. He really wished that he could take her away from all of that and live normal lives.

“I understand. I just...” she was really conflicted and upset “I'll come as soon as I can. I'll need to talk to Din.” There's a pause as her aunt replies. “But- okay.”

"Can I come with you?" He asked softly. She rubs her arm, She couldn’t look at him.

“Not this time. After we drop this bounty, I have to go. I don't know how long”. A tear runs down her cheek His heart dropped to the floor when he saw a tear roll down her cheek, he walked over to her and looked down at her, taking her chin in his hand and tilted her face up to him.

“Don't cry, my lady” She embraces him. Her eyes full of tears now.

As she gets ready to leave she turns to him one more time, a smile on her face. “Don't do anything stupid without me. I need you in one piece when we see each other again.” She laughs.

“I’ll try my best.”

"Ret'urcye mhi" She says with a sad smile

"Ret'urcye mhi, Mesh'la"

~

Masterlist

Translations:

Ret'urcye mhi: Goodbye; literally: "Maybe we'll meet again"

Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum: I love you."; literally: "I will know you forever.”

mesh'la - beautiful.

Tags: @soft-girl-musings

[hunnythebee]

Stow Away

Chapter 3: Hiding in Plain Sight

A tense day on Nevarro followed by an evening with a different kind of tension. Is she crossing a line or is he?

Warnings: NSFW, NSFT, mentions of trauma, PTSD, crying, cursing, voyeurism, masturbation

Chapter 2 | Chapter 4 | Masterlist

A/N: So I changed up a few things in this chapter. First, it explores third person omniscient territory, giving us a glimpse into our Mando's thoughts as well as the MC. From here on out I intend to include more glimpses into his mind and emotions as well.

Second, finally diving into some smut. I'm excited for that, but I am also a complete plot-whore so it's definitely going to be plot with porn.

And last but not least, I have officially given the MC a name. I hadn't intended on naming her, but I couldn't help it, it just kind of happened.

Hope you enjoy and I look for to seeing you all next week for chapter 4!

It had been awhile since he left. He took the kid with him so she has the whole ship to herself. She searched around for a good hiding spot, which there really weren’t any. Then she had a brilliant idea. She rooted around in her sack and pulled out her hooded cowl and engineer goggles.

Perfect.

She removed a panel on the outside of the Crest and began to do idle busy work. She tucked her hair completely into the hood and pulled the mask up, with the goggles covering the remaining exposed portion of her face no distinguishable features were left visible. She was deep in the panel when two bounty hunters approached the ship.

“What’re you doing here?” The taller one asked, resting a hand on his blaster.

“Workin',” she kept her words short. “You?”

He laughed gruffly, “Workin’”

The two men boarded the Crest. Her hand was violently shaking, but she hid it by throwing them back into work. The two reappeared a minute later, with the carbonite slabs floating gracefully between them. 

“Enjoy your 'work' little lady,” the other said, his voice making her skin crawl.

She swallowed hard and nodded to them. The nod made a small strand of hair peek out from the hood. Her hair was truly her most recognizable feature, it was colored to look like a nabooian sunset, a gradient from purple to orange. The small strand was a blaring siren, begging to be noticed, but lucky for her they’re backs were already turned to her. She quickly tucked the strand back in and shoved her head into the ship compartment. Once their gravelly footsteps receded, she hustled back onto the ship and closed the ramp behind her. Her heart was hammering in her chest, and she crumpled to the cold floor, allowing her emotions to pour out. A sob echoed through the quiet hull. She let her tears flow. Mando didn’t remind her of him. But those men, those hunters did. After the tears slowed she took a few deep breaths. Just in time too, because the gangplank lowered, and the Mandalorian boarded the ship. She wiped away at her eyes, hoping her breakdown wasn’t too apparent on her face.

It was.

Mando noticed immediately. Her nose was pink, her eyes were swollen and red. Her cheeks still had faint tear stains on them. He felt a protectiveness come over him. He wanted to ask who had done this to her. He wanted to make them pay. More than anything he wanted to pull her in and make her feel okay. All of this ran through his head as he simply stood there, staring at her.

She can never know. He warned himself.

“H–How’d it go?” She asked, wanting to break the silence.

“The usual.” His voice sounded so distant. Realistically, he was just lost in thought.

“The…usual?” she questioned.

“Got my payment. Got more bounties.”

“Ah. The usual. Got it.” She began to walk towards her cot, but he stopped her in her tracks with his next words.

“I brought food.”

“You… brought food?” She echoed.

He silently held up a satchel, burstin with assorted produce and meats.

“You brought food.” She said once more, feeling a sense of safety nudge at her heart.

He handed her the satchel, and she examined it closely.

“Hmm… I know exactly what to make from this,” and she left for the galley. He remained cemented to the spot. Silently swearing to himself to learn why she had been crying and to never let it happen again.

A few hours later, they were in orbit of Nevarro and she was putting the finishing touches on a roast. They hadn’t spoken since he had given her the food, she had plunged herself into cooking. It was mostly an attempt to recover from the flashbacks of earlier, and it mostly worked. 

She shouted out of the galley up at the cockpit, “Food’s ready! Come get it while it’s hot!” 

She fixed the three of them plates, and set one plate down at the spot he usually sat in. She and Grogu took the seat that they had been in before, their backs to the seat he would take. Grogu was already finished by the time she heard Mando’s boots hit the floor. She had, unwittingly, waited for him to start eating. She heard his helmet depressurize and she started to eat her meal with him. She nearly choked when she heard a sound from where the Mandalorian sat. He had taken a bite and moaned. He kriffing moaned, and it made her freeze completely. She couldn’t see it, but he had frozen too. Shocked by his own involuntary noise. He knew she had heard it, because he heard her gag on her food. Heat crossed his face and he was never more thankful for the Creed than in that moment.

They ate the remainder of the food in complete silence. He collected the plates when they were finished, and she put the now sleeping child to bed. She was closing the crib when he reappeared. His visor was fixed on her and it sent a shiver through her body.

“I liked it.” He spoke abruptly.

“Hmm?” She asked as she slumped back down into her seat.

“The food. I liked it.”

“I bet.” The tease slipped out before she could process what she was saying. Her whole body tensed.

“What was that?” He asked, taking a step toward her.

She stood and moved backward, “N–nothing. I’m glad you liked it.” The nerves caused her voice to quiver slightly.

He stalked closer. “That’s not what you said.”

She tried to turn, wanting to hide in the 'fresher, but his hand snatched her wrist and pulled her to the wall. Pinning her between him and the cool durasteel. Her heart was thundering in her ears. She should have felt scared but this was different. Less threatening. Probably because he wasn’t holding a blaster to her this time.

“What. Did. You. Say.” He was impossibly close now. He smelled like her blanket.

No… she thought, the blanket smells like him.

She steadied herself for a moment and committed to the teasing.

“I said, ‘I bet.’ As in I bet you liked my cooking. At least it sure sounded like you were enjoying it.”

He hovered for a moment. He was contemplating something. She assumed he was debating whether to smack her for taunting him or not. In reality he was contemplating her. Her body. Her face. How good she would feel when he– 

Stop!

His internal voice screamed. And he finally released her, quickly leaving for his bunk. The door hissed shut behind him before she even had a chance to move. She slid to the floor. She was dazed and confused by the bizarre interaction that had just occured between her and the Mandalorian. He didn't seem angry. In fact he had seemed... Excited. A heat settled low in her body, which she elected to ignore.

That's absurd. No way was that what had been happening.

She shook the thoughts out of her head and finally stood up from the floor. She still wanted to shower before bed. The scent of ash and smoke was clinging to her hair and she craved the scent of the soap. She didn't take long, focusing mainly on her hair. She stepped out into the hull and the quiet was deafening. All she could hear was the soft breathing of the child on the other side and... She froze.

She heard a moan. Before tonight she wouldn't have been able to place it but now she knew exactly what she was hearing. She was planted to the spot. Not moving. Not breathing.

Another moan ripped through the quiet.

Her eyes found his door, lit dimly by the light of the refresher. The warmth she had felt earlier returned, this time it was less bearable. Her body moved without her willing it to, and she found herself in front of his door. She wasn't sure what she was doing there. This was a private moment. An intimate moment she wasn't supposed to bear witness to, yet she couldn't keep herself from listening. She chewed her lip for a moment and wrestled with herself internally.

After a moment of contemplation, she pressed her ear to the door. She wanted to hear more. His moans were hot and it had been so long since she had been a part of anyone's pleasure, so she indulged.

The moaning was expected, as were the whispered curses. What she hadn't expected was what he groaned out as his orgasm slammed into him.

"Jomira..."

She stumbled back. That was her name. He was moaning her name. Her heart raced as she rushed back to her cot and quickly climbed under the covers. His voice echoed in her mind.

Impossible. I just imagined it. That's all. Still...

She pressed her thighs together. Her arousal had reached a fever pitch and it was becoming a problem. She reached over and shut the child's crib. Then she slipped her hand below her waist band. She was soaked. Her pussy. Her thighs. Imagined or not, he had an effect on her that she could not deny.

She pressed her middle finger to her swollen bundle, working it in slow, precise circles. She whimpered quietly and covered her mouth quickly with her free hand. She continued working herself closer to release. She could feel it, she was on the precipice. Just as it poured over her the door to the Mandalorian's bunk slid open. She jumped, throwing the hand that had been covering her mouth over her eyes, burying her face in her elbow. The hand that had been working so desperately for her release was trapped between her legs. Her orgasm made her throb against her fingers, the ruined release causing her cunt to clench and spasm.

Neither she nor Mando moved. She took a deep, slow breath, feigning sleep. She prayed to the Maker that he hadn't seen her, that he would just assume she was asleep and leave. After another beat, she heard his boots move. They ascended the ladder, followed by the cockpit door hissing open and then shut.

She let out a sigh and removed her arm from her eyes and her hand from her pants. Her heart rate slowed finally, and her eyes began to feel heavy. Sleep fell heavy onto her body and she knocked out quickly. She dreamt of him that night.

Chapter 2 | Chapter 4 | Masterlist

[az-cain]

Di’kutla Kar’ta - Foolish Heart

chapter two

din djarin x reader ≈ 1.3k words masterlist

sorry this took an absolute age yall. i lost motivation. BUT IM BACK BABYY

SERIES TW: mentions of sexual assault, religious trauma, loss of family members, descriptions of injuries, descriptions of violence, slowburn, smut

CHAPTER TW: descriptions of injuries, one (1) mention of blood, mention of loss of friend

—

Your head was aching and your broken fingers were throbbing, but you were warm. It was an odd feeling— waking up warm— as you’d lived on Hoth for nearly 10 years, using only enough fuel to keep your frame from locking up entirely. Usually, you awoke to the feeling of cold creeping its way through your body nerve by nerve, your fingertips and toes stiff. Now, you moved them freely as you locked your helmet onto your head and opened the small latch on your cubby, slipping off of the hard bed.

You made your way to the center of the ship, not ten feet away, and wondered at what you should do in such an unfamiliar situation, in another Mandalorian’s ship.

Suddenly remembering that Din had mentioned a few blaster shots to his ship, you scurried back to your bunk to grab your armor and heavy fur coat, writing a quick message before opening the bay to inspect the damage.

Din,

I’m outside checking damage, don’t shoot me down or leave without me

Thanks,

Y/n

The snow was familiar under your boots as you trekked around the big ship to locate the damage. It was on the side, and had shot right through the front. You guessed that the shots had only hit the front deflector shield generator and projector, but you needed to pull open the durasteel side to be sure. And for that, you’d have to go back to your shop nestled in the snow dunes on the other side of town. You were about to leave to trudge through the snow, but something called you back into the ship. Reentering the bay, you spotted the other hunk of metal climbing out of his small bedspace.

“Din, hey.”

His head whipped towards you, shoulders back and feet in a fighting position, his posture relaxing after recognition. Still, he kept his body turned to his bed as though defending or hiding something. “Oh. Hello.”

“Look, I know you just woke up, but I need to get some supplies from my shop,” you paused, tilting your head and considering your next words while you peered nosily towards his bunk, “and it would be nice to pack a few things.”

“Yes, of course.” He pushed something with his foot as you continued to approach. “Would you like me to come with you?”

“Yes please.”

Din, struggling, groaned audibly as a green creature slipped past him and came barreling towards you. The small thing was wearing a little potato sack, and you assumed it to be Din’s pet. As you stooped to pick it up, you didn’t think about why the other Mandalorian would be hiding the creature: the only thought on your mind was how adorable and childlike it was. Its huge black eyes stared at you in wonder, oversized ears twitching eagerly as you made cooing noises and pointlessly contorted your face. You questioned for a moment its consciousness, and eventually decided that the creature seemed to be intelligent.

The baby fervently garbled its response to your coos, engaging in conversation with you. You pulled your head back in the best expression of shock you could and whisper-shouted “Really? He wouldn’t possibly!” before turning to Din and waiting for a response. The baby turned its head as well.

Din, excitingly, just stood there. He was stock-still for a few moments before clearing his throat. “He… He likes you.”

You smiled and laughed quietly. “I think so.”

You watched him clench his fists again before he approached, extending his hands for the green ball of joy. “His name is Grogu,” he tossed you as you handed him the child. “He’s my foundling.”

It was your turn to stand shock-still, eyes rooted to the man in front of you. Suddenly you understood why Din was trying to hide him, sequester him away. Foundlings were rare, even more so since the Great Purge. Many will try to kill the foundlings and their buirs simply out of tradition, or as may be the case with this oddly-shaped one, for a trophy on their wall.

You knew Din had no reason to believe you’d harm Grogu, but many Mandalorians were traitorous to their own kind especially in times of need. You trusted him just the same, if not more, for his attempt to hide the child.

“I see. My knowledge of him will stay within this ship.” Din nodded in thanks as he headed to grab his satchel, stuffing the child in it carefully before slipping it on, murmuring some words to him as he shut and buttoned the bag.

“Thank you. He’ll be coming with us, now that you know about him. It’s safer anyway.”

You nodded as well, watching him approach you and gesture to the exit, taking long strides down the ramp beside you. As the two of you exited the Razor Crest, he clicked a few buttons on his vambrace to seal the ship safely.

“Lead the way.”

The icy landscape was as familiar as your armor, but the man and the foundling by your side were anything but. The three of you treaded in the direction of your home, boots leaving two sets of prints in the blinding white.

Silent as the town was, you could hear the creaking of a door from the rarely inhabited pub. “Mandalorian!” The coarse, familiar voice of one of your only friends shouted, to which you turned. “Mandalorian-seh!” He laughed loudly at his correction, Din’s hand drawing up to his weapon as the two of you approached. “Planning to leave without a goodbye, metalhead?” The swaggering man smiled and extended his arms as you approached, his hands gesturing for a hug.

“Yes, Caith,” you chuckled lightly, “you knew this day would come.” Obliging his gesture, you squeezed him tightly before pulling back.

“Did I?” He murmured, searching the blank reflective visor of your helmet.

With a sigh, you nodded. “Yes. It’s not safe for me here anymore. I’m headed off-world with him,” you tilted your head back at Din, “and I’ll probably not be back. I’m sorry.”

“Oh, that’s alright. I’ll miss you. Leave me some of that sauce of yours, yeah? Or the recipe.”

“Of course,” a rough noise made its way from your chest and through your modulator as you cleared your throat, “let me get it for you. I’ll see you in a few, then in the afterlife, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

You nodded to him before turning around, Din on your heels and then beside you. You felt the other Mandalorian’s eyes on you, though his visor remained fixed on the small building just outside of the main town.

“What?” You finally asked him, keying in your code and shoving the stubborn door open with a huff.

“He’s nice.” Another thing you had never missed about the company of Mandalorians: they all seemed to either speak in riddles or use the minimal required words, and both methods worked equally well to evade the need for a true answer. You loved your people, but you knew that their communication was poor, and the elders encouraged that. However, this was no time to piss off the man who’d offered you a ride off-world, regardless of your common Creed and his obligation to follow through.

“Yes, he is.” You replied, deciding not to confront him, but now feeling that you needed to establish a baseline for your behavior and his reactions, simply to ask, “Does that bother you?”

“He reminds me of a long-gone friend.”

Deciding that his response seemed direct enough and his body language hadn’t changed to give any indication of anger, you nodded and accepted his answer, so you headed to the trapdoor under your dining table.

Shoving the heavy table, you wondered, for a moment, if you should warn him; ultimately, your curiosity got the better of you, and you yanked back the door to reveal the meticulously stacked piles of bent, bloodied beskar’gam.

masterlist

taglist: @tizylish @theslytherinwriter and u aren’t on it but i want you to see it @amchapel

[morpborp]

Chapter One: He's Not So Bad

Pairing: Din Djarin x OC

Warnings: Blood, suspense

Summary: The Mandalorian meets a strange wolf-like girl who seems to know the child.

The child grumbled angrily as the mandalorian dismounted from the sand speeder. He chewed on his clothes, growing more irritable by the second. The mandalorian sighs heavily and readjusts the child in his hand. He slings the giant slab of Krayt Dragon meat over his shoulder and marches into the hangar. Peli is more excited about the meat than he and the child are. As the meat cooks over the fire, the mandalorian realizes he may need to find something easier for the child to eat. Even with an exhausted mind and body, Mando treks out towards the town. The shops are closing one by one as the end of the day grows nearer. The food is all picked over except for a few pieces of less desirable bitter fruits and odd meats. The child squirms and the mandalorian hears his stomach grumble, but he does not seem drawn to anything. It isn’t often that the child is this fussy and the mandalorian struggles to keep him in his arms. He sets the little green alien in the sand, which doesn’t make the child any happier. He sits down in the sand defeatedly. 

“Really?” Mando asks grumpily. “I don’t know what you want.” 

The child coos and tilts his head at the armored man. His three-fingered hands dig through the sand, creating little piles. They take a moment, the two of them. The mandalorian stands in the fading sun, watching the little boy play in the sand. Although there is still hustle and bustle, the streets are mostly quiet. But it doesn’t last. 

Shouts echoed around the corner along with the twang of blaster shots. The crowds leaped out of the way of a rampaging hooded figure. The stranger dodged several bullets flying down the alleyway. Their cape billowed in the breeze as they slid through the sandy streets. The figure barreled forward, not noticing the heavily armored man before them. Mando’s thoughts raced as he, the child, and the stranger fell to the ground. Even with all of this skill, he couldn’t avoid someone so fast. He quickly scooped up the child and pulled his blaster from its holster. The figure rose shakily, hood falling to their back. Mando widened his eyes as wolf ears rose high on the figure’s head. Glowing yellow eyes pierced through his helmet. Wearily, the figure shook her head and stumbled forward. Blood gushed down her furry white leg, pooling in the sand below. However, the Candorian’s eyes widened at the sight of the child. Her ears folded back slightly and her tail slowly wagged back and forth. 

“Y-you,” she whispered, staring at the child. “You’re the one who called me. I heard you, even in my sleep.” The child cooed and reached his tiny hands out to her. The longer Mando held him, the harder he squirmed, even beginning to cry. The Candorian stepped forward, but the Mandalorian raised his blaster closer to her. 

“Who are you?” he asked sharply. The child squirmed harder, but Mando tightened his grip. The Candorian remained silent, just staring at the child. 

“I-” The Candorian stopped as cries rang out in the streets again. Her ears stood upright and before the Mandalorian could even blink, she was gone, racing through the streets once again. The child screamed, wailing like the Mandalorian never heard before. 

“Wait!” he cried, but she was already too far away. The child screamed more, his fists balled with tiny fury. “Easy kid,” Mando whispered harshly. No amount of consoling quieted the child. Several men in strange black suits resembling storm troopers whipped around the corner. With blasters raised, they stalked down the streets. Civilians ducked their heads, hid behind stalls, or ran into shops. The Mandalorian stood still, keeping his blaster in hand as the armored men came closer. At first, the men ignored him, intently focused on tracking the pawprints and blood in the sand, but as they saw the tracks lead to the Mandalorian they surrounded him. 

“Where’s the girl?” 

The Mandalorian remained quiet, watching them carefully as they stalked around him. 

“She went this way,” one of the troopers said, pointing at the obvious path of blood and pawprints. All but one of the troopers followed the path. The remaining one continued to stare at Mando, keeping his blaster trained on him. 

“She’s ours, bounty hunter,” he growled. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Mando replied blankly. The trooper scoffed and moved on, following the rest of his men. As he walked through the sand, the whole street let out a hefty sigh. Civilians emerged from their hiding places and business began to resume. The child, who was momentarily quiet, now sniffled as he reached out. His little hands grabbed at the air where she ran. Mando let out a heavy sigh. Getting involved was the last thing he wanted, but she knew the child. Or she knew of him. The Mandalorian did not believe in coincidences, but he believed in the child. That girl claimed he called out to her and he was clearly seeking her now. Mando had no idea how he “called out” to her, but the child did all kinds of mysterious things. What was one more? 

The Mandalorian followed the trail left by the Candorian. The pawprints and bloody droplets left a purely defined tracking beacon in the sand. The child cooed gently, still trying to calm down from his fit earlier. Thoughts raced through Din’s mind. Why was the child so upset? What does this Candorian mean to him? Does she know him? Does he know her? His thoughts came to a halt when the child started squirming again. As the Mandalorian looked to the ground, he noticed the trail stopped oddly in the middle of the sand. There was not much on the Mos Eisley outskirts, but it would still be unlikely for the Candorian to just disappear. The child squirmed harder, almost thrashing in Din’s arms.

“Easy kid,” he grunted again. Setting the child down, Mando watched as the child scuttled over to some rubble wedged into the sand. He slowly scraped the sand away, cooing as he made small amounts of progress. The Mandalorian kneeled beside him, starting to help him scoop sand away. Light spilled into the rubble, illuminating a white paw stained with blood and the tip of a white tail. Mando jumped back, but the child reached out for the tail. Before Din could grab him, the white paw twitched and pulled back. 

“So,” came a weak, faint voice, “you found me.” Even from the few moments he heard her voice, Din recognized the Candorian. Besides, what other species is half wolf, half human? 

“You managed to get away,” Mando said evenly.

“For the time being.” Silence hung heavy in the air as the child continued to grab at the Candorian’s tail. As he listened closely, Din heard ragged breathing coming from inside the rubble. Her heat signature was colder than normal. 

“Who are you?” The Mandalorian asks. “How…do you know this child?” 

“I don’t know him.” 

“You said he called you. You said you heard him.”

“I did.”

“How?” Din growled. Frustration crept up at her vague answers. 

“I heard him through the Force. He called for my help.”

“The Force?” he said, confused. “You mean his powers?”

The Candorian groaned and shifted in the sand. Her voice sounded closer. “Has he ever done things you can’t explain? Things that should seem impossible?” 

“Yes. He’s stopped fire. He’s moved things without touching them. He’s healed serious injuries. Is that the ‘Force?’”

“Yes,” she replied. 

“Are you a Jedi?” 

For a moment, there was no response. “No,” she said softly. “I am a wielder of the Force, but I am no Jedi.” 

At this, the child looked up at the Mandalorian, wiggling his ears slightly. Thoughts ran through the Mandalorian’s head again. However, they felt less and less rational by the second. She claimed not to be a Jedi, but if she studied their powers maybe she knew some. 

“I’m tasked with returning him to his own kind. Do you know any Jedi?” 

“I did,” the Candorian muttered, “but there aren’t any around here?”

“There’s none? Not one Jedi?” 

“I don’t know,” the Candorian whispered sadly. “I don’t sense their presence.”

“You can sense them?” 

“In a way. I feel them through the Force. That is how I found the child.” The mandalorian’s mind races. A question wells up in his throat. He pushes it down. He remembers the reputation of the Candorians being wild. Even though they are both human and wolf, many claimed that the wolf always took over. You could never trust a Candorian because they might snap and the last thing you wanted was to be in their way. However, the question still bubbled in his throat and it escaped before he could stop it. 

“Can you teach him?” 

There was more silence, but it was interrupted by a slight chuckle.

“Teach him what, exactly?” 

“How to use his powers; at least until I am able to return him to his kind.” 

“Why?” the Candorian asked. 

The Mandalorian grew quiet. It was a question he really did not know the answer to. Returning the child to his own kind was his duty, not teaching him to use his powers. Even if he was returned to the Jedi, would they make him learn? Why? What purpose did his powers serve? Not knowing what else to say, Din said the only thing he knew:

“This is the way.” 

He heard grunting from under the rubble and the Candorian’s voice was suddenly louder, clearer. He could see her hand, armed with long, sharp claws, in the small pool of light. 

“You saw what life is like for me. I am wanted.”

“By who?”

“I am not entirely sure.” 

“Then why do they want you?” 

“Probably because I am a Candorian. I don’t sense any Candorians either,” she uttered. 

“There are no Candorians anymore,” Din replies plainly. 

“N-no?” The Candorian laughs facetiously. “Where did they go?”

The Mandalorian scratches underneath the back of his helmet in confusion. She is a Candorian, how can she not know? He thinks.  

“They were all wiped out by the Empire, remember?” Silence fell between them again. Mando shifts uncomfortably, watching the child play with the Candorian’s tail. What am I doing? He thinks. It isn’t easy for people to bond with the child. He is extraverted and charming. Her being able to connect with him doesn’t mean anything, but it is less common for the child to reach out for someone so much. 

“If you keep me from getting taken, I’ll help you. I’ll teach the child everything I know, which isn’t much to be honest. Until we find a real Jedi, I’ll help you.” 

“I’m a bounty hunter,” the Mandalorian declared. “That shouldn’t be too hard.” 

There was no response from underneath the rubble, but the sound of shifting sand echoed through the alley. The child coughed as dust flew towards his little face. Mando scooped him up and stepped back as the hooded girl emerged from the broken roof. He took in her pale skin and jaded eyes. His gaze shifted to the gash on her leg, still trickling a little bit of blood. The fur all down her leg was no longer white like the rest of her. She swayed slightly on her feet and her tail hung lifelessly in the direction of her limp. The child stretched out his arms, asking to be held by her. She held out a hand gently and very cautiously. Mando passed the child along to her. Immediately, the child beamed wider than Din ever saw. He pulled at the wolf girl’s hair and pressed his three-fingered hands to her face. She smiled softly at him. 

“Yes,” she whispered, “I’m glad I’m here too.” 

“You can understand him?” 

“Yes,” she chuckles. “I told you. Many Force users are able to sense each other’s thoughts. It’s not word for word, but I get the message.” She smiled again and giggled slightly. “He’s excited. He likes meeting new people.” 

The Candorian’s smile dropped slightly and she handed the child back to the Mandalorian. Her ears drooped beneath her hood, causing the extra fabric to fall over her eyes. Her hand clutched her thigh. Blood spilled between her fingers. 

“I’d prefer not to bleed out on this hunk of sand. You have a ship?” 

Mando nodded and clutched the child close to his chest as he leaned forward. The Candorian wrapped her arm around his shoulder. However, she leaned against him as little as possible, still putting quite a bit of weight on her leg. The walk back to the hangar was long. He did not think she could keep it up the whole walk. Once situated, the wolf girl nodded and the three began the long trek back. 

There are many times Mando is thankful his face is covered. Especially now where he could hardly hide his shocked expression at the Candorian’s endurance. For miles they walked under the blistering heat. This is rarely an issue for Din and he imagined it likely isn’t an issue for the Candorian either under normal circumstances. However, she limped on, pressing her hand against the wound as she walked. The child was mostly quiet, just cooing every once in a while and reaching back towards the girl. 

At the hanger, Peli’s pit droids ran through the sand. They squabble with each other, letting out frustrated squeaks and beeps. The Candorian watched them curiously, but her eyes widened at the sight of the Razor Crest if she’d never seen one before. She stopped momentarily, gazing up at the metal beast. Something gleamed in her eyes as the ship reflected back in them. However, the growing argument of the pit droids broke her concentration. The Mandalorian ignored them, continuing to hold a bit of the Candorian’s weight. As he sat her down on a tipped over crate, Peli emerged from her office. 

“Hey you three!” she cried to the pit droids. “Knock it off!” With glee and a bit of force, she took the child from Din. He let her without hesitation, which the Candorian noted. She still chewed on a hunk of meat from the dragon. 

“Who’s this? And what happened to you?” Peli asks with a mouthful, observing the Candorian up and down. 

“Long story. Where is the med kit?” Din asked seriously. 

“In the office under the desk,” Peli replied casually and pointed back towards the office with her thumb. “So, you a friend of Mando’s?” 

“Not exactly. We just met.”

“Wow, you must be extra special then.”

“There’s nothing special about me,” sighed the wolf girl. As she said this, the child reached back out to her. The girl took the child and he rested calmly in her arms. 

“Oh, I see,” Peli smiled. “Let me tell ya, anything this kid wants, he gets. Mando spoils him rotten.” 

“I can tell he cares for him. I’m curious to know how they wound up together in the first place.” 

“He’s not such a bad guy, that Mando. Just gotta get through all that armor,” Peli said and sat down by the Candorian. She remained silent, waiting for the Mandalorian to return. The Candorian stared up at the sky, realizing that soon she’ll be up in it again. Only this time she won’t be blind or bound. The endless black void of space and the glistening stars will again be within her line of sight. Maybe then, she’ll feel more Jedi. She’ll feel someone, anyone, besides this child. Until we find a real Jedi, she said. But where are they? Why can’t she sense them? 

The Mandalorian plunked down on the ground next to her, immediately whipping the medkit open. The Candorian winced as he sprayed Bacta onto the wound. She rolled her neck uncomfortably, causing the child to look up at her. She forced a smile back at him. Although efficient, the Mandalorian is gentle. Even as he wraps gauze tightly around the wound, the Candorian only lets out a tired breath.

“Oh, hey Mando, I’ve got someone here for you!” Both the Mandalorian and Candorian looked up as a frog-like person walked through the sand. She had a strange tank strapped to her back filled with water and orange blobs. “She knows where some Mandalorians are!” 

“Where?” Mando asks and ties off the gauze. 

After croaking to the frog lady, who then croaked back, Peli said: “Trask.” 

“I thought we were looking for Jedi,” the Candorian girl remarks. The mandalorian doesn’t reply, but scoffs and falls into an argument with Peli and the frog-lady. 

The Candorian touched her leg gingerly. Already, it started to ache less. The child reached a hand down towards it curiously. She gently tickled his face, causing him to giggle. The Mandalorian spared a glance their way. His hands were on his hips as he argued back and forth with Peli and the frog lady. Eventually, Din sighed heavily and reached for the child. 

“Alright, let’s go,” he grumbled. 

The frog lady situated herself in the cockpit with her tank held close to her chest. Din laid the child in his crib and turned toward the Candorian. She dropped the hood of her cloak, revealing her towering wolf ears and golden eyes in full glory. Her face held more color than before and her eyes were no longer as murky. Her white hair tumbled down her shoulders like a mane. The top half of her body looked so human aside from the ears and eyes, but Mando couldn’t help but feel intimidated by the intense fixture of her gaze. They tracked his every movement, scanning for any moment he might move too quickly. However, her soft and smoky voice felt comforting in a way he couldn’t describe. 

“I don’t think I can climb the ladder,” she said and gestured to the cockpit. 

“That’s fine,” Din said and turned away. He pressed a button on the wall, revealing a small cot. She limped towards the small room and sat down on the ledge. 

“Thank you,” she sighed and rested her leg. The Mandalorian nodded and began to walk away. “By the way,” she called out to stop him. “I don’t expect you to tell me your name; I know many Mandalorians prefer their privacy, but I didn’t tell you mine.” The Mandalorian waited silently. “My name is Aurelia, but you can call me Aure.” The armored man did not respond for a moment, just stared at Aure intently. His fingers flexed slightly and he nodded, turning away. 

“It’ll take a while to get to Trask. Rest while you can.” 

“I will.”

[galacticwildfire]

found.

Twenty Four

Pairing: Kenobi!oc x Din Djarin

Summary: Satine and Obi-wan’s daughter fought in the war against the Empire and lost her faith when she lost Mandalore. Until she found him. A lone Mandalorian searching for a Jedi.

Warnings: TW for torture, severe ptsd, mention of past miscarriage, brief discussion of abortion. No fluff, only angst. Boba time. Missiles. Head injuries, burns, near death

Word Count: 7.4k

A/N: it gets worse before it gets better but I made a new moodboard

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Time itself comes to a standstill as we look upon one another but despite the years, despite going to Tatooine to hunt him down... nothing could have prepared me for this.

"You know why I have come," he tells me, his voice the only thing about him I recognise.

"You should be dead," I say, hand wrapped around the hilt of my saber.

"I should be after you left me for dead," he replies and I feel it, the anger, the betrayal that he should have seen coming. "But you never could do it could you?"

"Neither could you," I remind him, and despite every piece of reason in my head screaming otherwise, I feel safe in that security that he could never bring himself to ever truly hurt me, he just stood by as others did. "You don't scare me Boba."

Something in him almost softens, but only for a moment. "It is not fear I want to provoke, not anymore."

His words catch me off guard and leave me almost confused by the change of heart I feel in him, but I ignore it for the sake of self preservation.

"You look older," he says, as if we were meeting under normal circumstances.

"You look like shit," I tell him, trying to bite back the true horror at what I did to him.

"Getting struck down and devoured by a sarlaac does that," he says and gets to business as if we're negotiating in a messy divorce but there is little else that could be used to describe Boba and I. "I want my armour back."

"I want lots of things back, things you took from me," I tell him, Din emerging from cover with his blaster drawn since negotiations have been established. "But life isn't fair, is it?"

I eye the carved wooden weapons he has at his back, weapons I recognise as belonging to the sand people of Tatooine but it is surprisingly not violence he negotiates with.

"I have brought you a peace offering."

"A peace offering?" I repeat and actually laugh, feeling Din's alarm at the sound. "The only peace offering I would accept is Vader's head and unfortunately that is ashes on Endor."

Looking at him now I wonder what he knows if he's lived in isolation on Tatooine because he looks surprised by my revelation. "So you killed the bastard then?"

Now I'm the one in surprise as I scoff "Don't act like you wanted him dead."

"Of course I wanted him dead," he says and takes a step closer, a step that makes Din raise his blaster. "I'm not after you Mandalorian."

"You left me for dead," Din says and I see a look of satisfaction in Boba's eyes that stirs a new type of rage in me.

"Fair is fair," Boba says, ignoring him to speak to me. "I'd call it justice."

"Revenge you mean?"

"One and the same," he says, determined to hit every nerve he knows how. "That's what you said, isn't it princess?"

If this is how he wants to play, I'll play along perfectly.

"Yes." I take a step closer now, looking him dead in the eyes as I tell him. "It was both when I left you for dead."

"I could take revenge," he tells me, but fails to intimidate. "I certainly have enough reason to, but fortunately for you I am a changed man."

I laugh again, the type of unhinged only Boba Fett can make me after he put that madness in my brain and twisted it into what it is now. "Boba Fett? A changed man?"

He isn't amused and looks back towards his ship "I thought you may say that, so here is my peace offering. My armour for yours."

My face falls and I blink at him "What?"

He doesn't repeat himself. "You heard me."

I shake my head "My armour is on-"

"Was on Kalevala," he says and I go cold. "I'm the one who brought you there after Mandalore was destroyed remember? You took my armour from Tatooine, so I returned the favour. Still covered in blood and ashes on board my ship for the taking. You order the Mandalorian to get mine, and Fennec will get yours."

"Fennec?" Din exclaims and I look back at him in confusion until I sense an unfamiliar presence.

"You have a keen ear Mando," a woman says from up on the ridge armed with a rifle, a woman that Din certainly seems to know and I look at him, raising an eyebrow at the panic I feel from him.

"You were dead," he says and my eye goes back to Boba, able to read him in one glance and I should have known he'd never come to face me without an extra gun.

"I believe it is time for introductions," Boba says while I shake my head at him in warning. "Meet Fennec Shand, a sharpshooter I've brought to ensure this transaction goes smoothly."

"Fuck you," I say and order "Din if she moves kill her."

"So it's going to be that way then," Boba says, almost disappointed. "Alright then, your lover pulls that trigger and she'll unload onto that kid she's locked onto."

And there he is, the Boba Fett I know.

"You wouldn't dare," I breathe.

"I think we both know I would," he says but I know the kid is quite safe. "There does not have to be violence."

"Say the word and he's dead," Din says from behind me, both of us knowing the kid is safe behind that shield. 

"This is between her and I Mandalorian," Boba says, he knows his targets, he would know damn well the reputation Din has. "You shoot, Fennec shoots." He looks back at me now. "Your little green friend as quite the bounty on his head."

With those words, all decency is off the table.

"If you think you're going to come here to take my son away-"

"He's a little green to be yours," he says and a chill runs through my bones as he dares to say "But a son for a son seems fair to me."

Din reaches for me as I march forward but holds his position with his blaster trained on Fennec as I slap Boba hard, tears of rage burning in my eyes as I whisper "I hate you."

"I know you do princess," he says, his face may be barely recognisable but his eyes... the same damn eyes. "I'm not here to hurt you."

But I know him better than that.

"I don't believe you," I breathe and the moment my saber is at his neck his finger is on the trigger of his blaster. My match. My perfect adversary. "I will never believe a word you say again."

Still he insists "All I want is my armour."

"Liar," I say, searching his eyes. "You've followed me halfway across the galaxy for one thing only."

He entertains me. "And what's that princess?"

I can't bring myself to say it with Din standing so close but Boba knows. He always knows.

"Revenge," I say, if only to stir something else in his heart that is more bearable for me to feel. "For me."

I'm trembling as he touches my cheek with the barrel of his blaster, but not from fear, anything but fear, and I feel pure horror from Din that I haven't killed him for that simple touch alone.

"I did come for you," he tells me and I don't inch away from him as he leans closer as if nobody else is standing here. "On Tatooine I came for you, but not to harm you."

"Liar," I say again, fighting what I know is the truth. "Why else would you come if not for revenge?"

"I came to help you," he says, the coldness of his blaster on my cheek keeping me still as he asks "Do you really think I'd let you face an Imperial attack alone?"

I feel Din watching with a primal anger I've never felt from him and remind Boba "I wasn't alone and you left him there to die."

"If I didn't kill him he would have killed me," he argues, as if leaving him bleeding out for me to find was only a minor complication. "And I wasn't the one with the shiny beskar."

"No, you aren't," I say, finding a sick pleasure in taking from him the one thing he loves. "Because I have yours and once I put you back in the ground where you belong I'll melt it down and add it to my collection of trophies. Right beside Maul's saber on Kalevala." 

He ignores my threat to tell me "You're the only one who wants violence little one."

"I don't believe you."

"Kill me then," he says, calling my bluff. "We both know you can't do it."

A darkness settles over me, the same darkness that led to me being charged as a war criminal. "You have no idea what I am capable of."

"Then do it. Kill me. Do what you couldn't do on Tatooine." The heat of my saber at his neck does little to scare him as he taunts "Or have you started calling yourself a Jedi again?" My hand grips the hilt of my saber tight knowing one flick of my wrist is all it would take. "I remember when your daddy came to kill mine, but he couldn't do it either."

I blink at him in bewilderment "What?"

"I remember shooting at your father myself," he tells me, words he never has before, and I go cold as his own memories flash before my eyes. Cold rain and shots fired upon my father only to end in the flash of a purple saber and a beskar helmet rolling on coarse ground. "He was no match for a Mandalorian."

"Then how come he lived while yours lost his head," I hiss and he grabs me by my hair, holding me by the scalp with his blaster to my head. "Too soon?"

"Let her go!" Din orders, firing a warning shot only for Fennec to fire one back at Din and I smirk at the look of unbridled rage in Boba's eyes, living for the thrill of hitting him where it hurts. "Let her go or I drop you and Fennec!"

"This is between us," I tell Din, smiling as I taunt "I should have aimed for your neck, let your head roll in the sand just like your donors."

With those words he bares my throat, my hair in his fist as he brings his blaster from my head down to my stomach, knowing just where to hit me, but nothing can ever hurt me more than he already has. "You've become a cruel woman."

"Do you think I'm still that nineteen year old girl who cried and begged for you Boba?" I ask him and laugh again at the pain shooting through him, wanting him to suffer as I have. "You killed her that day on Cloud City. There's nothing left you can do to hurt me now."

"I can kill the kid," he threatens. "Like you killed our son."

"Our son?" I repeat numbly and feel Din's own horror as I tell him. "You mean the bloody tissue that was left on the floor of that cell after Vader tortured it out of me?" Boba's eyes go utterly cold now, finally realising it was not my doing. "It's for the better because I was never going to have any child of yours after what you did to me."

"Kyra," he begins, the emotion in his voice making me wince but I'm past apologies.

"It's too late for remorse Boba," I tell him, having no pity left for him and dig the knife deeper. "Everything you blamed me for is your own doing. Every betrayal you believed, none of it was ever real. It was all Vader screwing with your head like he did mine."

Finally after all these years I find myself absolved of my own guilt and see the horror in his eyes as he realises I never betrayed him and that the death of our love is his blood to bear.

His voice is uneven now "If I knew-"

"You would have what? Struck Vader down?" I ask as I push him off me and he doesn't try to push me back. "You were too weak."

"Says the one who's too weak to strike me down now," he says, but the fight is gone from his voice and filled with a quiet ache before he resorts to the one thing he can still hate me for. "Just like your father was."

I raise an eyebrow "You think I'm weak because I'm a Jedi?"

"I know you are."

I give a nod and turn my back on him, walking back towards Din as I raise my hand to choke the sniper up on the ridge and watch her reach for her throat as Boba finally panics. 

"Stop that!"

"No," I answer before channelling the strength of the force here and throwing her off the ledge into a nearby rockface. Din and Boba both jump back as she groans on the ground and I use the force to pull her rifle to me, handing it to Din as I return to his side. 

"Kyra," Din says quietly as he takes the rifle. "I owe Fennec, she is not our enemy." 

"Well he is," I reply and turn back to Boba. "I don't care what you've become, I don't care if you're sorry, not when I have to live with the consequences of what you did."

Boba looks at Fennec, finally realising just what his betrayal led me to become. "I thought you were above that."

"I was, but not after what Vader did to me," I say and I see the look of disbelief in his eye before his hand goes to his throat and that cold rage burns as I hold it tight. "Do you think I'm not capable of the things he was?"

"Then do it," he says, my fist closing around his throat. "If it's revenge you want take it, I won't stop you."

"Only one of us is leaving this planet alive," I tell him, even if every moral my father instilled in me screams against killing a man who is not fighting.

"Then why haven't you killed me yet?" he asks but just as I step forward with my saber in hand I feel it and realise the true enemy that's followed me isn't Boba Fett.

It's the Empire.

Slowly I turn my head back towards Boba, the memory of betrayal haunting me now and my saber hand's shaking as he puts his hands up "I didn't-"

Without warning I throw him to the ground and my saber is at his neck as I curse "You fucking traitor."

He knows there is nothing he could say for me to believe him and instead tells me "It's time to put your armour back on princess, we're in for a fight."

I look up at Din who stands there watching the Imperial ships entering the atmosphere "Kyra the kid-"

"The kid is safe," I promise Din and withdraw my saber and abandon Boba on the ground to go to him. "If it's Gideon we have the advantage you hear me?" 

"How?" he asks me. "It's the two of us against the Empire."

I look back at Boba on the ground and Fennec getting to her feet, if they didn't bring them here then they'll have no hesitation killing them. "No, it's not." I take his helmet in my hands as I tell him "We fight, the child is as safe as he can be up on that stone. Get your weapons, we aren't running."

"This is the way," he says and a shadow of a smile plays at my lips.

"This is the way."

I let him go with a press of my lips to his beskar cheek knowing damn well Boba's watching and march to his ship to get my armour. I navigate the familiar interior quickly to get to the storage compartment and much to my equal surprise and satisfaction find my biometric fingerprint still logged and draw a sharp breath as the compartment opens.

My armour as promised sits there, painted blood red and still coated in the ashes of Mandalore. 

For just a moment I still feel the rubble crushing me, I can still see the bodies of my people turned to dust after the bombing. I can still feel the ash in my lungs as my hand reached out through the rubble, red with radiation burns. I wanted to die and yet I couldn't help but fight for my life as the darkness closed in on me.

I can still feel Boba taking my hand and pulling me out. 

The sound of gunshots pulls me back and I take the painted beskar forged for my body, a lightweight unconventional design perfect for a Jedi. It's all muscle memory as I arm myself with it, the slimline armoured top that wraps around my collarbones leaving my arms bare, the red arm bands in substitute of pauldrons for the sake of mobility, my left bearing the symbol of the Jedi and the right my family's crest. The gauntlets attached to my fingerless red sleeves more lightweight than the typical Mandalorian's, the same with the rest of my armour. Boba brought all of it, not just the beskar but the rest of it I couldn't bear to touch after I'd stripped it from my body and so I make quick work of it, discarding my of Jedi styled clothes in favour of my complete armour since I doubt I'll get another chance to retake it.

Finally I hold the helmet in my hand and for the first time since the purge put it on and ready myself, transferring my saber to my armours utility belt that's still armed with my old blaster and make sure to put the kids ball in one of the pockets.

It feels right as I step out of the ship looking through a visor and raise my blaster to take out the nearby stormtroopers and feel Din's head snaps towards me at the sound of the shots and I can feel it, awe, and then I feel the fear of the stormtroopers as I ignite my saber.

They all come to a halt with their guns raised at me, shaking in their armour as I tilt my head to the side and the moment I raise my hand they're running back to their ship, the landing platform still lowered as they try to retreat and with a single hand, feeling the strength of the force more than I have in years, I bring the ship to a halt as they try to lift off. It's as I tap into the true richness of the force here on Tython I realise indeed the stories are true and I throw the ship into a nearby cliff face with a strength I've never wielded before.

The wreckage hits the ground with injured troopers straining for their weapons and I look back to see Boba and Din both standing there in a state of awe.

"Kill them!" I order and they quickly jump into action, gunning down the troopers on board the wreckage and I move past the bodies to get to the remains of the cockpit, still intact enough for me to make contact with their commander and know in my gut who it is. 

"This is Kyra Kryze," I say, ready to take him out. "You're troopers are dead Gideon."

"That may be, but not even you and your bounty hunters can save the child from me," he says and I hear Din yelling for me.

"Kyra!"

I emerge to see three more ships lowering onto the planet and just as I raise my hand I hear rockets, but not from the ship. I look back to see Boba standing there in his own armour now and watch as his rocket hits one of the ships which crashes down into the other, both burning wreckage now in the sky.

I feel Din's hand on my arm, tasting the bitterness in my mouth as I look at Boba and know he didn't bring the Empire here. 

"See princess, I did tell you," Boba says and I could kill him for the I told you so alone. 

"And like I told you, I'm not weak," I spit at him and then realise that was his intention all along, to rile me up. 

"You never were," he says and frustrated I look away from him back to Din who stands behind me with a gentle hand holding me in place, maker knows the only thing giving me peace right now.

"What's the plan general?" Din asks me, Boba and Fennec listening as I look at the final ship landing, but my gut tells me there are far more where it came from and we need to take them out.

"Kill them, no matter how many waves come we eliminate them," I decide, knowing the child is safe up on that rock. "If we don't Gideon will just send them after us again."

"Gideon?" Boba repeats, having missed that part when he was attacking Din. "Moff Gideon? I thought he was dead."

"So did we but you'd know that if you were actually helping me on Tatooine instead of stabbing someone," I retort and feel Din squeeze my arm to bring my back, knowing I need to be focused right now, and ask him "On Navarro what type of strength did he have?"

"Enough that he almost killed all of us," he answers and tells me "We aren't making it out unscathed."

"Retreatings no good if he can take us out with his ship, we're better to hold defensive positions until an opportunity presents itself," I say as Fennec reloads her rifle, remembering the Hoth situation. "We don't know what type of resources he's got and I'm not risking putting the kid in his sights."

"Call for backup?" Din asks knowing the connections I've got but none that can get here in time.

"We are the backup," Boba says and reminds me "We've faced worse than a few stormtroopers princess."

"This isn't right," I say, my gut screaming it at me. "It's too easy, if Gideon knows you're here he'd be sending more firepower than this."

It would be why Gideon waited so long to attack, Boba Fett would be one of the few people in this galaxy he would fear and rightfully so, which makes no sense he's sending mere ships of troopers against two of the most capable killers in the galaxy.

"Then let's take them out," Boba says as the ship lands and the four of us stand there ready to fight as the landing platform lowers and I tilt my head at the black of their armour.

Death troopers.

And there it is.

"Take cover," I order before they open fire and each and every movement of my saber is muscle memory led by the force, my father having been relentless in this particular training after the Clones wiped out most of the Jedi in order 66. He wasn't going to let me fall to a group of troopers with blasters.

Their armour is resistant enough the blasts reflected back don't kill them and hear their commander order "Kill the Jedi!"

And so I use the force to leap over head just as they roll grenades my way and cut through three troopers from behind as Din, Boba and Fennec fire on them from defensive positions but it's then as I look up to the stone my blood runs cold realising this is just a distraction.

Troopers unlike any I've ever seen descend towards the stone and just as I run forward I'm thrown to the ground by a missile that blows the Razor Crest to ashes. 

My ears ring as I take in the burning wreckage and feel Din pulling me to my feet, covering me from the Death Troopers fire as he pulls me back behind cover, checking me over to make sure I'm alright before quaking "The kid-"

"I've got him, cover me," I tell him and use my jetpack for the first time in years as I take off dodging the heavy fire from the Death Troopers to get to the stone only to begin losing altitude halfway as the broken down fuel runs out and I hit the ground running, reaching the stone at the same moment they do and I'm met with an onslaught from blaster cannons that I fight through only for the force shield to come down.

"No!" I yell out as I'm thrown into one of the pillars with a force I've never felt before by one of the troopers and get to my feet only to be faced with six of them, big hulking forces of metal standing between me and the child who looks at me with fear in his eyes.

They fire upon me, no doubt with programmed orders from Gideon to eliminate me personally. Reflecting the heavy fire I cut through the chest of the one who threw me and cut down the next through the middle only to be grabbed by the throat with a crushing pressure by another and raised up to see the child being taken and kick my feet against the troopers face, severing the hand holding my throat before cutting through its neck along with anothers before driving my saber through the chest of the fifth.

I rebound off the ground as the final trooper lifts off with the child and I swear I can hear Din calling my name, but just as I go to jump from the stone to take down the final trooper I see it far too late, the burning missile locked right onto me, and in the second before it impacts I raise my saber in a pure final instinct and there's a flash of blue.

Then nothing.

~

Din

The moment the missile enters the atmosphere I've abandoned my defensive position to run to her as if I have a chance in hell of making it there, there's flashes of yellow as she cuts through the troopers and I'm screaming her name into an empty void and she looks up the moment before it impacts. There's a flash of blue as the forceshield ignites only for the missile to blow the stone temple to nothing not even a second later.

The explosion causes me to fall back and I'm on my knees as I look up at the smouldering ruins, the world itself coming to a standstill as I grasp my blaster between my fingers, in one single moment my entire world gone.

So many moments I'd accepted my own death and I was never afraid, but that was until her and the child came along and suddenly I had everything to lose.

And now I've lost just that, my child, my riduur, my everything.

That is until I feel Boba Fett pulling me to my feet telling me "She's hard to kill, get up there and I'll follow the bastards."

"Come on," Fennec says pulling me along as if there would even be anything left of her after what that same missile did to the Razor Crest. "He'll follow the trooper, she's a Jedi isn't she?" Numbly I nod as she forces me to walk. "Then there's a chance."

"The kid-"

"He's following the kid," she repeats as we make our way up the mountain. "You can't save him but there's still a chance for her."

I'm sick to my stomach at the thought of what I'll find, her body blown to pieces or nothing at all, but as my weak knees take me up the hill they all but give out at the sight of her red figure face down in the ruins and I run forward, dropping to my knees as I take her in my arms.

"Kyra?" I quake as I hold her limp body, armour blackened from the impact and skin scorched but it's as I pull her helmet off and find blood running from her ears and nose I can't breathe. "Cyar'ika?"

Despite the heat radiating from the burns her body's cold, my thermal imaging unable to get a clear reading with the injuries and I'm cradling her head in my hand as I check her vital signs,  finding a pulse, drawing a shaking breath as I feel it beneath my fingers. She should be ashes, but I've seen the child perform even greater miracles than this.

"Boba's on their tail," Fennec tells me. "He's locked onto the trooper."

"No!" I panic, stammering. "I don't want the child hurt!"

They're both alive, but they won't be for long.

"Abort pursuit, disengage!" Fennec orders. "Do not harm the child."

"Copy, I'll do a loose follow, see where they're headed." There's a pause before he asks "Is she alive?"

"Mando," Fennec says, unable to quite look at us as she asks "Is she alive?" I give a single weak nod and she confirms "She's alive but barely. Burns covering her body from the blast and severe head trauma, unconscious."

I'd never been truly afraid until right now as I hold her limp body in my arms, appearing dead in every way except for the slight pulse beneath my fingers and the slow rise and fall of her chest beneath the beskar but it's not strong enough.

The child is gone, I can't lose her with him.

"I can't do this alone," I tell her in Mando'a. I'd promised that I'd never let the Empire hurt her again and I broke that promise. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry I failed you. I failed both of you."

Her red hair is between my fingers, warmth seeping from her skull as I clutch her body to mine, trying to convince myself she's still alive, that she still has a chance.

"They're back," I hear Fett say over the com as I listen for her breath but can barely find it.

"Who?" Fennec asks as she comes over, kneeling down to take a look at her.

"The Empire," he answers, telling her what I already know. "They're back."

"That can't be, the Empire is under the jurisdiction of the New Republic."

"This isn't a spice dream, I can see the Imperial cruiser with my own eyes."

The issue of a few rogue warlords is entirely different to an armed and operational Imperial Cruiser. For a moment I hope that revelation would be enough to wake her up, but she's still out cold in my arms. 

"Fennec she needs help," I say quickly, unable to keep my voice from breaking.

"Boba doesn't have any plans on letting her die," Fennec says and I don't know if that makes me feel better or worse as she speaks into the com. "Get back down here, she needs medical treatment."

"I'm coming down."

"Come on," Fennec says and I lift her up, taking care to keep her head still and Fennec takes her helmet as we descend back down the mountain with only one way off this planet.

Despite the desperation I've heard enough to not trust him, knowing he turned her over to the Empire once before and I'll die before letting it happen again and when we approach his ship and he takes a step towards her I draw my blaster on him from beneath her legs "Touch her and you're dead."

"She isn't dead yet but she will be and if you kill me and try to steal my ship you won't get very far without my biometrics," he says, having anticipated this. "Do you want her to die?"

"She'd rather die before being given to the Empire," I say, knowing she'd never forgive me if I let Gideon get his hands on her. "And I'll die before letting them harm her."

"I didn't dig her out of the damn rubble on Mandalore to watch her die now," he mutters and my blaster hand shakes as he marches forward and puts a hand on her head, I only allow it when I see how his shakes as much as mine. "She needs a bacta tank."

"It's the outer rims," Fennec says. "Where-"

"I know a place," Fett says and speaks to me. "Something tells me neither of us are getting past the outer rims without being arrested by the New Republic. I can take her somewhere she'll be safe."

"Where?"

"Cloud city," he says, the name only vague to me. "Run by one of her rebel friends, Calrissian."

I look down at her knowing we don't have any time for questions but I still can't trust Boba Fett "You try anything-"

"Oh trust me she'll beat you to killing me when she wakes up when she realises where I've taken her," he assures me. "But neither of us are letting her die."

"Mando, if you want her to live you have to trust us," Fennec says and with no choice I head on board the ship, hardly even registering as Boba Fett enters with the beskar spear, all that's left of the Razor Crest.

The landing dock closes and they head into the cockpit without another word, leaving me there in the hold alone with her and it's then the chill truly settles into my bones. 

Only an hour ago we were in the cockpit of the Razorcrest, watching her holding Grogu as she told us the words we'd never heard before her, that she loves us. Words I'd never heard until she came into my life and made me realise I was something that could be loved. The light of my life, the only thing that truly mattered, her and the child, I had my entire future in the palm of my hand and now it's all gone.

I feel the tears in my eyes as I cradle her head and feel the dry blood in her hair, remembering in horror that she has a family outside of the child and I, that I'll have to tell them how she died while I stood helpless. 

"Come on cyar'ika," I plead with her, without her and the child there is nothing left to live for. I don't know how I ever lived without their love, a love that made me feel human for the first time since I was a child, a love I can never live without again. "Wake up, please."

But her body only grows colder, her skin blackened from the blast of the missile, wounds that a bacta tank can heal but I remember too well the head trauma that would have killed me if not for IG-11. My hand rests over her pulse, feeling it only growing weaker, her breathing slowing.

"Stay with me," I whisper, shaking as I hold her body and realise her chest is hardly rising. "Kyra?" The colour is gone from her cheeks, her skin turning a shade of grey and I'm yelling out "How long do we have left!"

Boba Fett comes down, helmetless now and looks upon her with an unreadable face "Less than an hour."

"We don't have that long," I insist. "Is there bacta-"

"The Hutts raided it for medicine and credits while I was in the Sarlacc," he answers and gives what could almost be called an attempt at assurance. "I've seen her in worse shape than this, she's tough, too stubborn to die like this that's for certain."

"Well she is dying!" I snap, slowly losing it with every missed beat of her pulse. "Isn't there anywhere closer?"

"If the Empires back then Cloud City is the only place I know for certain won't be doing business with them," he says and I look down at her. "Calrissian is a good enough man he wouldn't turn her away."

"Can you get a transmission to Leia?" I ask him knowing that she'd want her family to be there if she doesn't make it and he seems surprised by my request.

He scoffs "She's told you about that lot?"

"They're her family," I say and he just shakes his head. "They deserve to be there if she doesn't make it." It's then I remember where I'd heard of Cloud City from, Solo's transmission after we were attacked on Tatooine. "Can you contact Solo on the Millenium Falcon, he should be at Cloud City."

He looks at me more carefully now "You've met Solo and all the rest?"

"I know her family and she'd want them there," I say, unable to understand the questions and having no patience for them. "Can you contact them or not?"

He's silent for a moment in contemplation before saying "It's best I don't or they'll try to shoot me down."

I stare at him now incredulously at how he can be thinking about himself right now "Not if they know she's on board."

"Let's just say Solo and I have some history and they won't believe she let me live long enough to be in this situation," he says and despite my desperation I can't blame them if they know what I do. "We'll be there soon, I don't know what she's told you-"

"She'd told me enough," I say sharply, not caring for conversation right now.

He nods to himself before saying "We both love her Mandalorian, she isn't dying on my watch." He steps forward and I pull her closer to me, not wanting a man who hurt her and is comfortable enough laying hands on her how I just saw to touch her. "She's survived worse than this, if you've spent even a night with her you'd know that." 

The mention of her nightmares has me shaking at the thoughts of just what she's endured and the revelation I learned on that damned planet, that she was pregnant with this man's child and lost it in torture due to his betrayal.

"If you loved her you wouldn't have betrayed her," I say knowing the man he is, that we aren't so dissimilar. Knowing the lives men like him and I lead and just what she is in comparison to all that bloodshed. "If you loved her you would have died before letting the Empire lay one hand on her."

"Vader promised me if I got her to become his apprentice he would spare her," he reveals to me. "The moment she landed on that planet she'd sealed her fate, I'd tried to keep her away but the moment her ship was reported I went there to protect her and struck the deal. Her precious family were about to die and I wasn't going to let her suffer the same fate."

"And so you turned her over for torture with a blaster at her back," I say remembering the words she told me and feel my own blaster beside me on the floor within reach, checking her pulse and finding it even weaker.

"I did," he says and eyes me as he says "It's clear you haven't known her very long so let me enlighten you. I'd been by her side since she was nineteen, I watched her take back Mandalore from the Empire and I watched her lose it because she was too damn stubborn to realise her precious rebellion would spit her right back out the moment they were finished with her." I'm silent now, remembering Chandrila. "And from what I've heard that's exactly what they did, charged her as a war criminal and left her to Moff Gideon on Tatooine."

My head snaps back towards him at the mention of that night "You left me for dead after beating Cobb Vanth within an inch of his life trying to find us."

"You would have done the same if you'd seen me first," he dismisses and goes on. "I've been dealing with the aftermath of her decisions for almost a decade now. She's as tough as they come but she's got a weak heart. She's pretty enough to make any man forget themselves but there's only so many times you can stop her from ruining herself in the name of being a hero. Hell I pulled her out of the ruins of Mandalore after she tried killing herself when she had to live with the consequences of her decisions. She's her own worst enemy and I'm warning you now Mandalorian no man escapes from her unscathed."

The length of their history makes me still and I begin to realise there's a reason she didn't kill him on sight and with her dying in her arms the last thing I want is to doubt where her heart lies. 

"I know her past," I say stiffly, but it's never scared me until now. 

"Do you?" he questions. "Are you aware you've been shacking up with a suicidal sadist who's spent her enter life pretending to be something she's not? Don't let her pretty face fool you, she's a cruel woman who let me spend five years believing she'd rid herself of our child out of pure spite before leaving me for dead."

His words do nothing but make me want to reach for my blaster "Do you love her or hate her, make up your mind." 

"Love and hate, it's all the same to her as you'll come to learn," he says and I look down at her face, unable to see anything but the woman I love. "She'll want to kill me when she eventually wakes up but she won't do it. She can't. The last night together before she left me for dead she spent beating me until she turned to words to try to provoke me into hurting her to fulfil whatever sick satisfaction it gave her before pushing me into bed. She's a twisted woman, always has been. Whatever she's told you I did to her it was nothing she didn't allow, hell you saw it. She has a way of bringing out the worst in a man, forcing it to the surface."

"Why are you telling me this?" I stammer, panicking the weaker her breathing grows while he stands there like she's not dying.

"So you can run before it's too late."

I scoff now, realising what his play is "So you can have her?"

"I've loved her through all of these years, and no matter what we always found our way back to one another," he tells me and stops before heading back to the cockpit. "You seem like a good man, you love her, but she isn't the woman you think she is."

With her dying in my arms his words change nothing. "We'll see."

He's almost amused "You will see."

He leaves us and I look down at her, the woman I love, a woman who in so many ways is still as much of a mystery to me as she was when I first laid eyes on her. Whoever she was, I saw glimpses of her today that left me shocked, glimpses I'd never seen before that leave me wondering how much of the truth this man is telling me.

But it doesn't matter, not now, not when I could lose her. I trust her with my life, with the child's life, and that is more important than anything that he could ever tell me, not when I have my own past I try to forget. Not when our child is gone and I need her with me to take him back.

True desperation takes hold of me as her lips turn a shade of blue and I hold her face, afraid to move her without knowing the extent of her head injury, clinging to the faint beat of her pulse that is the only thing keeping the last shred of my sanity from breaking.

"Wake up," I plead with her, if there is one thing Fett is right about it's that she's too stubborn to die like this at the Empire's hands. "We need to protect Grogu, he needs us." Still she lays unconscious and my voice breaks "I need you."

When I was dying I had her and the child by my side, I would have died in peace having felt her lips on mine knowing there was someone to mourn me, to raise the child. I may be here, but she would not die in peace knowing the child is in danger, knowing he was taken by the Empire as she was when she was just a child. 

As I died the only regret I had was that I had not had more time with her, I would have died a happy man if she opened her eyes to look upon my face when she kissed me and so with shaking hands I lift my helmet now and put it aside to look upon her with my own eyes. If she were to wake now I would have no regrets if only to feel her warm and alive in my arms.

"I love you," I tell her, knowing I might never get to say them again. "I can't- I can't go back to how it was before you and the kid. I can't." I'm choking back a sob as I fight tears, something I didn't realise I was still capable of. "Please, stay with me. Stay with me cyar'ika."

I kiss her cold head, feeling my tears wet her skin as I once felt hers wet mine. I thought I was gone, but she saved me.

I might not be able to wield the force to bring her back from the brink of death, I may be just a man begging the woman he loves to stay with him but that is enough. It has to be.

I'm not letting her die.

[dookuswifey]

Secret Kisses♡ - Mando x OC

For @drawingdroid

[dindjarindiaries]

Security - Chapter 71: Home

summary: The Djarin family goes home, and Din and Astra find a perfect way to celebrate.

warnings: non-descriptive sexual content, alcohol, fluff

rating: M

word count: 8.620k

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chapter 71: home

“The people of Nevarro appreciate all you’ve done, Mando.”

Greef’s words don’t help to pull Din out of the dreamlike state he’s stuck in. Astra’s gaze on him only worsens it in the most wonderful way. Today, he’s like a Wookiee youngling on Life Day, the happiest he’s ever been.

“I want to personally give you this deed to the cabin just outside of town,” Greef goes on, smiling from ear-to-ear as he hands the deed to Din, “where you can lay low with your family.” He leans in close and adds one more thing with an inflection of amusement. “Between adventures.”

Din clutches the deed tight in his left hand. When he speaks, his voice is strained with a gratitude he can’t quite bring to words. “Thank you.” Din reaches his free hand forward to give Greef’s a firm shake, holding it a moment longer than usual.

As soon as they pull away from each other, Astra steps up to Greef, going for an embrace rather than a handshake. Greef lets out a laugh of mixed surprise and joy, patting Astra’s back as she speaks. “Thank you, Greef.” Astra steps back to her place at Din’s side, close enough now for her arm to brush against his. “You have no idea how much this means to us.”

Greef smiles and bows his head in respect. “Please, there’s no need to thank me. You deserve it.” Greef bends down to get closer to Grogu, who’s standing just beside him on the stairs. “And that goes for you too, Din Grogu.”

“Geef?” Zora’s voice asks next from her place in the floating pod.

Greef chuckles and leans towards Zora next. “You too, Miss Mando.”

Zora giggles and claps her hands together in joy. Din shakes his helmet and stares at the deed in his hand for a moment. He won’t be able to fully believe it until he sees it, so for now, he forces himself to stick to the present. “We have a gift for you as well,” Din announces, looking up at Greef once again. He then looks to the side and nods at the Anzellans, giving them the cue.

IG-11 clanks his way onto the scene, refurbished with the red of Greef’s Magistrate robes as he waves at the people he passes. “Greetings, citizens,” IG’s voice announces. “I am IG-11, your new Marshal.” Greef steps down from the stairs in disbelief as he watches IG-11 enter. “Your new Marshal of Nevarro.”

Din watches Greef continue making his way towards IG-11. He shares a look with Astra, who’s beaming just as much as he is underneath his helmet. Neither one of them would have been able to serve as marshal and remain tied down to Nevarro, but bringing back their old friend fulfills the job perfectly - and hopefully serves as a proper thank-you for Greef’s generous provision of the cabin.

“I am here to serve and protect the citizenry,” IG-11 continues to the gathering crowd. Greef works his way into the group to start applauding the new marshal’s arrival. The volume of their cheers drowns out the rest of whatever IG-11 has to say.

Din continues to watch until Astra’s head rests against his arm, drawing his attention back to her. Her gloved fingers weave through his own as she smiles at him, her gaze brighter than ever as she asks the question that’s been hanging in the air between them. “Is it time to go home?”

Her words, as simple as they are, nearly knock the breath from Din’s lungs entirely. He glances at Greef and IG-11 one last time, just to see their friends as busy as ever. “Yeah, cyar’ika.” Din squeezes his wife’s hand and turns to face her, resting his helmet against her forehead. “Let’s go home.”

Astra smiles as wide as her lips allow her, but she also closes her eyes, taking Din’s helmet between her hands. Din’s brow furrows beneath his beskar in slight concern. When he starts to tilt his head, Astra’s eyes reopen, her gaze quickly considering him. “I’m okay.” She laughs and nods for further reassurance. “I’m more than okay. I’m just trying to memorize this moment.”

Din holds her arms and gives them a gentle squeeze. “This is the first of many more.” He aches at the idea of separating himself from her, but he forces himself to do so to get his family home. Din bends down to pick up Grogu and sets him in the pod beside his sister, who all but screeches when her father comes close.

“Papa!” Zora cheers, taking a few excited breaths. “Go ‘ome!”

“That’s right, Zozo!” Din matches her energy the best he can, running a gloved hand over her curly head. “We’re going home.”

Even Grogu coos excitedly with them, his ears rising high on his head as he does so. Din closes his eyes underneath his helmet and steadies himself with a quick breath. Their homecoming may not feel real yet, but it certainly feels good. Happiness was once a luxury Din could never afford, but because of his family, it’s now become a sweet simplicity.

Din takes Astra’s hand once again when he stands to his full height and leads the way back to the N-1. They stop on the way only to pick up a few necessities from the bazaar, with Din handling their tools, food, and other supplies while Astra selects some much-needed clothing for their children. The rest of their trip to the starfighter is made in comfortable silence, something their eagerness to get home is surely responsible for.

Grogu stays with Din in the N-1 while Astra takes Zora, though their trip home is much shorter than any other they’ve taken before. Like Greef had said, the cabin is just outside of town, giving them enough privacy for Din to go outside without his helmet but also a close enough distance for them to walk to town. It may be isolated, but it’s not desolate; Instead, it’s lush with flora in its place near the hot springs, and there’s even a small pond where Grogu can play with frogs if he so desires.

Din loses his breath when he sees the cabin—their cabin. There’s only one thought that pierces through the joyful haze of his mind: It’s perfect.

Din’s reaction is shared by Astra, who lets out a small gasp of delight at the sight of their cabin. He smiles to himself and lands the starfighter just beside it, only tearing his gaze from their home to make sure he gets his family and the N-1 on the ground safely. As soon as the starfighter’s powered down, Din slides his canopy open, hopping down from the N-1 and setting Grogu on the ground beside him before he reaches up to do the same with Zora and Astra.

Astra presses a hand upon his cuirass as soon as her boots hit the dirt, her gaze never once leaving their home. She smiles as wide as she ever has and offers Din an excited glance. “That’s our home,” she reminds him, breathless in her joy. She laughs in sweet disbelief and reaches her hands up to lower his helmet against her forehead. “Our home!”

Din’s smile matches her own as he runs his thumbs over the sides of her face. “Our home!” He takes a moment to admire his true home before he acknowledges their physical one. “What do you think?”

Astra’s gaze looks upon the cabin again as she beams and rests her head beside her hand upon his cuirass. “It’s perfect.”

Din rests the lip of his helmet upon her head. “That’s exactly what I was thinking.” Din’s voice remains as soft as his touch is upon her back. “Should we take a closer look?”

Astra lifts her head and nods, her happiness bubbling over with another laugh that sends Din’s chest aflame. She takes him by the hand and leads him to their front door, the children following at their heels. Grogu keeps Zora from toppling over, earning a nod of approval from Din. Astra stops just in front of the door, her armored chest rising and falling in a breath before she turns to look at Din.

“Here.” Din takes the deed from his belt and hands it to Astra. “You deserve to do it first, rid’ika.”

Astra beams at him and keeps his hand with her own. “Let’s do it together, riduur.”

Din tilts his helmet in amazement of her. He watches as Astra takes the lead, lifting their credentials to the touchpad on the right side of the threshold and hearing it beep in the affirmative. It lights up green and slides the door open, and Din releases Astra’s hand only to urge her forward with a soft touch upon her back.

Din and Astra are both left in sweet awe as they observe the new space they get to call home. Greef already has it fully furnished for them, with crates sitting in the foyer just in front of them for storage along with couches, stools, and whatever else they could possibly ask for all set up in the living area. There’s a kitchen directly attached to the sitting room, with a place for them to make a fire if the Nevarro nights get too cold.

Din notices two doors on either side of the divide the foyer creates, no doubt each leading to a bedroom that are well-separated from one another. Astra must come to the same realization, as she’s soon bending down to pick up Zora in her arms and nodding at Grogu. “Ready to go see your room?” Astra’s voice hides none of her sheer joy and enthusiasm as she smiles at their children.

Zora and Grogu coo in the affirmative, with their daughter clapping her hands in the excited way she often does. Din tightens his fist in adoration of his family as he follows them to the bedroom on their right, the one that’s detached from the rest of the living area. Astra, by the Force or the stars, somehow has chosen correctly, as Greef’s already had this particular room furnished with two smaller beds for Grogu and Zora amongst many storage options for clothing, toys, and more.

“Look at this, adike!” Astra exclaims, beaming as she observes the space. “This is your room!”

Grogu looks up at Astra, glancing between her and Din while managing an Eh? for clarity. “Yeah, buddy,” Din speaks up, kneeling down at Grogu’s side and patting his head. “It’s all ours.” Din points at the beds as Grogu’s ears rise in delight. “You and Zora get to have this space all to yourselves, until you’re both old enough for us to add another room.”

Grogu coos and presses himself against Din’s side the best he can, smiling with gratitude at his father. Din just cups the side of his tiny head with his gloved hand and takes a deep breath, watching as Astra takes Zora through the room. She’s babbling to her mother and pointing more than she ever has, making Din chuckle and earn Astra’s attention. “I think she likes it,” Astra confirms with a soft laugh.

Din gives Grogu’s back a gentle pat before he stands to his full height. He starts to make his way over to Astra and Zora. “And what about you?”

Astra’s gaze meets Din’s visor, and he doesn’t miss the tearful glaze over her eyes as she smiles at him and shakes her head in disbelief. Din takes Zora from Astra and gives one of her tiny hands a squeeze before he sets her down on the floor near Grogu. He then takes Astra’s hands in his and gestures with his helmet to the threshold of the room.

“May I take you to our room?”

Astra nods, words still failing her in a way that makes Din’s heart constrict with an unprecedented sweet joy. He keeps one of her hands in his own as he guides her out of the room, entrusting Zora with Grogu for now as he leads Astra through the living area. Din takes a quick glance at her to see that she’s beaming at the part of the cabin they’ll no doubt spend most of their time in, her gaze only returning to the way ahead when Din opens the door to their bedroom.

It’s perfect for them. With a bed nearly as large as the one at Boba’s palace and a full refresher attached through another door, Din and Astra have more domestic luxury here than they could have ever wished for. There’s also plenty of storage along with enough wall space for Din to build exactly what he had promised Astra he would back in their stone-cast home to hang up their armor.

Astra’s the one who takes the lead enough for them to stand near the foot of their bed. She turns to Din and her gaze is even more tearful than before, but her smile is somehow even wider. Astra lifts her hands to remove Din’s helmet for him, kissing the top of it before she sets it on the bed. The action creates a warm flame within Din’s chest so ardent that he’s certain nothing could ever snuff it out. Astra wraps her arms around his neck, bringing their armor flush against each other as her lips start to tremble.

Her words are so quiet that Din almost misses them over the sound of his own rapid heartbeat. “Thank you.” A tear manages to escape her eye that Din’s quick to wipe away. “You’ve given me everything I’ve ever wanted.” Astra urges Din’s head to lower and presses her forehead against his own. “Because you’re everything I’ve ever wanted.”

“You’re the one to be thanked here,” Din insists, his voice just as soft as her own. He raises his brow and brushes his thumb over another one of her fallen tears. “If you hadn’t been so brave in urging the covert to rescue me, then things would be much different.” Din lifts his head from her own to press his lips to her forehead. “But that’s just who you are, Astra. Brave, strong, loyal, beautiful…”

Astra releases a sound that’s half a laugh and half a sob as she buries her face in Din’s cowl. “I love you, Din,” her muffled voice declares. Her boots lift off the floor and Din urges them the rest of the way up, his gloved hands holding her legs in place around his waist as Astra embraces him for dear life. “Thank you.”

Din rests his head against her own and smiles wide enough to make his cheeks hurt. “Thank you.” He turns his face to press a kiss against her head. “Ni kar’tayl gar darasuum, ner cyar’ika. Ner rid’ika. Ner oyay.” Din steadies himself with a deep breath and adds one more. “Ner yaim.”

Astra lifts her head and holds Din’s face between her hands. “Does that word mean what I think it means?”

Din’s smile remains as he nods. “It does.” He manages to hold Astra’s weight with one arm as the other quickly reaches back to take the item from his belt. He shows her the Mando’a booklet that’s certainly earned some intense wear and tear over the years. “I still have it.”

Astra stares at it for a long moment in sweet astonishment. Her gaze only returns to Din’s own when he lowers the booklet back to his belt and focuses on holding her again.

“You’ll always be my home, Astra.”

Astra’s smile starts to widen as she brushes it against his own. “And you’ll be mine.” Her lips press even more upon his, making his breath her own. “Take me home.”

Din would never deny his wife, his home, and so he becomes the one to fully close any gaps left between them. Din’s been blessed by the galaxy enough to to experience many moments like these with her, but even this somehow makes his mind, heart, and body feel a way he never has before. It’s the lightness of their freedom, the clarity of their future that allows Din to be at home with Astra without them having to check over their shoulders.

With their children still in the other room, Din and Astra let this moment last just a bit longer than usual, waiting until their shared breath fully loses oxygen to pull away. Astra’s hands have no doubt only added to the muss of Din’s helmet hair as she lets out a soft laugh and cups the back of his neck. Din becomes the one to hide his face in his wife’s neck as he exhales an affectionate breath.

Once they’ve sat in the moment long enough, Din lifts his face again and starts to ease Astra’s boots back to the floor. “So,” he begins, his voice now a rasp from his lack of air, “what would you like to do first in our home?”

Astra takes a deep breath and presses her hands upon his cuirass. She watches her fingers drum against the beskar in thought before she nods to herself and meets Din’s gaze again. “Let’s get married again.”

Din’s eyes widen at that. He spots the sweet severity in her eyes and furrows his brow. “Are you sure? I mean, I… that’s what I want, too, but I didn’t know if you’d want more time to prepare.” He gestures with his head to the open threshold behind them. “Grogu and I haven’t even grown or gathered the flowers yet.”

“I saw some flowers out there when we landed.” Astra continues to beam at him as she goes on. “And I may or may not have made some secret purchases of my own when we were at the bazaar.”

Din raises an eyebrow at her. “Is that so?” Din chuckles and cups the side of her face. “And here I was thinking nothing could get past me.”

Astra laughs and shrugs. “It was easy to hide it all with the kids’ clothes.” She turns her face to give his palm a kiss. “What about you? Are you prepared?”

Din huffs with amusement. “Well, I thought I was.” He runs his thumb along the end of her scar. “Will I have enough time to prepare for the sight of you?”

Astra considers his words with a deep breath. “Based on how you reacted to my armor…” she tries to bite back her amused smile, “no, you won’t.”

“I figured as much.” Din smiles when Astra giggles to herself. He can’t keep himself from kissing her forehead again. “Let’s at least have dinner first. I’d like to break open that bottle of wine from Coruscant once our ceremony’s over.”

“Right after we put the kids to bed.” Astra pushes herself up to kiss him again, more briefly this time. “Perfect.” She gives him one more kiss and pulls away. “Let’s finish bringing our supplies in, then.”

Astra takes Din’s helmet for him and slides it on over his head. She pats his beskar cheek before leading the way out of their bedroom, though Din’s visor lingers on the sight of it. He can’t help grinning to himself yet again. This is their new sacred space, their safe haven, and he’s determined to not only make it but keep it that way. Din couldn’t have asked for a better first moment to have shared here.

His eagerness to help Astra with the supplies wins out and he hurries to join her out by the N-1. There’s a tidal wave of joy that overcomes Din when he sees Astra again, and he can’t keep himself from closing the gap between them and wrapping his arms around her from behind. She squeals, half in surprise and half in delight, before she crumbles into laughter. Din keeps Astra between the N-1 and himself, his helmet pressed against her forehead as he watches the light dance in her eyes.

This is exactly what Din’s always wanted to feel with his wife. Moff Gideon is dead, Mandalore belongs to their people once again, and Din and Astra are the ones hunting the Empire instead of the other way around. This is what it’s like to feel safe.

Din gives Astra’s waist a gentle squeeze before he climbs up and retrieves their bags of supplies. He and Astra both take them inside, their sides brushing against each other before Din secures the door of their home closed behind them. Din takes everything Astra’s holding to let her get the kids from their room while he starts to prepare dinner. It’s not anything complicated, as Din had planned for them to be too excited to whip up something complex for their first meal in their new home, but it’s certainly nicer than the meals they’ve been used to.

Din smiles wider to himself as he sets his helmet down on the counter and starts to get the necessary supplies from their compartments and cabinets. Even just thinking the words our home makes his heart flip over and over inside his armored chest. After everything he’s been through, after the solitary way he’s lived his life for so many years, he never even considered this to be a possibility.

Yet as Astra joins him again with a Djarin child on each hip, Din has to shake his head in disbelief. Here he is, and here they are, the better parts of himself who he gets to call his family.

Astra sets Zora and Grogu on the stools at the counter as she walks around to stand at Din’s side and help him with dinner. The hardest part is keeping Grogu from lifting the ingredients with the Force, though after a few laughs and Din’s stern yet gentle warning, Grogu stops to instead focus on entertaining his sister. For this being their first meal together in their home, it’s already as familiar as a sacred routine, and that’s what makes Din’s cheeks ache with a smile he can’t get rid of.

When dinner’s complete, Din and Astra move their children and the meal to the table just beyond their counter, where they let Zora attempt to recount the excitement of the day with babbles she manages between bites. Astra helps to feed her as she nods with understanding, reminding Din of how she conversed with the Frog lady on the Razor Crest so long ago. Grogu’s the first to finish as always, and by the time everyone’s done, the Nevarro sun is already starting to set.

“I should get ready,” Astra says, rising from her place at the table and taking Zora on her hip.

Din starts to stand with her. “Will you need help?” His words are laced with the same genuine concern that’s woven into the knit in his brow.

Astra tilts her head at him with an amused smile. “Nice try.” She presses her free hand upon Din’s shoulder to gently set him back down in his chair. “There’s no peeking until we start our ceremony.” She gestures with her head to the viewport in their kitchen. “Zora and I will meet you outside.”

Din nods, words failing him for some reason as he watches the Djarin girls enter his and Astra’s bedroom. The door slides closed behind them and Din releases a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. He’ll have even less composure when that door opens up again.

Grogu catches his father’s attention by waving a tiny hand in front of Din’s line of vision. Din turns his head to see Grogu standing where Din’s dish has previously been, his ears rising with a coo as he points at the viewport.

Din chuckles at his son. “I know.” He stands and takes Grogu with him, setting him in the corner of his arm. “We have a job to do before they join us again.” Din places Grogu on the counter. “But first, let’s clean up.”

Grogu helps Din as best as he can with the cleaning of the table and their dinner dishes before Din takes his helmet and slides it on once again. The two of them make their way out of the cabin and Din sets Grogu on the ground, pointing towards a nearby patch of lush grass.

“Gather whatever flowers you can,” Din instructs his son and apprentice. He picks a nearby flower as an example. “Like this.” Din shows Grogu the length of the stem.

Grogu nods with a determined huff and waddles off in search of flowers. Din gathers the ones closest to him, stopping every now and then to keep an eye on Grogu. They’re safe here, but Din’s protective instinct will never stop, especially after the lifestyle they’ve had ever since he gained this beautiful family of his.

By the time Grogu makes his way back over to Din, he’s gathered as many flowers as his tiny hands can keep together, which make for a perfect final addition to those in Din’s own grasp. Din kneels down to take them from Grogu and pats his son’s head. “Good job, buddy.” He inspects the makeshift bouquet in his gloved hand and nods in satisfaction. “You did very well.”

Grogu’s ears rise up high on his head as he coos in gratitude. He tries to get words out, but it’s more of a squeaking sound. Din still praises him for it with another pat on his head.

“Let’s head out back.” Din lifts Grogu and walks around the back of the cabin. When Grogu offers a confused coo in response, Din elaborates. “Your mother gestured back here.” Din stops and looks around, realizing the view of the town is completely hidden by the structure of the cabin. “Must be for privacy.” He glances at the horizon and watches the Nevarro sky stretch out in bold shades of orange and pink. “And the view.”

Grogu coos to agree. Din sets him on the ground once again and tilts his helmet.

“Will you serve as our witness, Grogu?” Grogu nods with an excited breath, making Din smile to himself as he returns the gesture. “Thank you.”

Din stands with his back to the sunset, instead staring at the cabin as he waits for Astra and Zora to join them. His gloved hands remain folded over his middle as he shifts his weight, the cluster of flowers tucked into his belt. Grogu releases an Eh? and Din gives his son a quick glance.

“Yes, I’m still nervous.” Din tilts his helmet when Grogu snickers at him. “Maybe you’ll understand it one day, kid. I…”

Din stops when a flash of white from around the corner of the cabin proves the two of them aren’t alone anymore. His breath catches in his throat when he sees Astra in a dress that’s much different from the tactical clothes and armor she’s had to sport in their years together. It’s the same shade of white as the snow on the planet Din once took Astra to the first time they had to leave Sorgan, just after they had confessed they’d found a home in one another.

Astra sets Zora next to Grogu and continues towards Din. He reaches for the flowers on his belt, surprised to find that his gloved hands are shaking enough for him to notice—though his gaze never once breaks away from Astra’s. Din holds the flowers out for her to take, which she does with a soft smile of gratitude and affection. She stops just in front of him, her free hand finding one of Din’s and holding it tight.

“I know the color is different.” Astra’s voice is as soft as her grasp on his hand as Din gives her a once-over. “A white dress is an Arilian tradition. It symbolizes the new beginning of a marriage, like a fresh snowfall.” Astra runs her thumb over the back of his hand, and Din’s visor meets her gaze again. “Do you like it?”

Din uses all his strength to push past the lump in his throat and force the words out. “Cyar’ika.” He steadies himself with a deep breath. “You look so…” he lowers his voice for just them to hear, “fucking…” Din brings his voice back to a normal volume, “beautiful.”

Astra laughs and gives his hand a squeeze, her gaze falling from his for a moment in her shyness. “Thank you.” She finds his visor and raises her brow at him. “I thought the same thing when I saw you.” Astra gestures with her eyes to the view behind him. “Especially with the sunset at your back.”

Din huffs, shifting his weight between his feet in his own shyness. He takes another breath and holds tight to her hand, allowing the other to hold onto her waist. Din’s visor never once leaves her gaze. “Astra.” He squeezes her waist, earning an even brighter smile from her. “Thank you for standing by me ever since the day we met, even during the times I was misguided. Having you has…” Din pauses, shaking his head in amazement, “it’s saved me. Mhi solus tome.” We are one when together.

Astra’s thumb runs over his hand again. “Din, thank you for never once failing to fight your way back to me. You’ve always given every part of yourself just to make sure I’m safe, and you’ve done the same with the rest of our family.” Her gaze shines at him as she goes on. “No one’s ever fought for me like that before.” She squeezes his hand. “Mhi solus dar'tome.” We are one when parted.

Din summons the strength of his Mandalorian ancestors to go on. “I’m endlessly grateful to have this home with you.” Astra grins widely at that, making Din chuckle and give her waist another squeeze. “Everything I have, everything I am, is yours. That’s something that will never change.” Din nods to emphasize his words. “Mhi me'dinui an.” We share all.

Astra beams at him, looking as if she’s about to burst with pure joy. “But the best thing we share is our family.” She only breaks her gaze with Din to look at their children. “First Grogu, then Zora Arilia…” Astra looks at Din and raises an eyebrow, “and whoever comes after.” Din smiles with his wife and he hopes she can at least sense it. She lifts the hand holding the flowers and presses it against his helmet, urging it to meet her forehead. “Mhi ba'juri verde.” We will raise warriors.

Din gives her hand a gentle yet firm squeeze. “Ni kar’tayl gar darasuum, rid’ika.”

Astra lifts her hand from his only to take a tighter grasp on his helmet. “I love you too, riduur.” She raises the beskar of his helmet just enough to reveal his mouth, adding one more promise upon his lips. “Always.”

They seal their vows now just as they had the very first time, with a kiss full of such love and deep affection that Din has no choice but to exchange a sigh with Astra that only brings them closer together. They don’t make too much of a spectacle for their children to see, instead forcing themselves to separate with the loveliest of smiles left behind on their stinging lips.

Din raises one hand to the back of Astra’s head and urges it to rest against his cuirass. She holds her there for a while, letting her wrap her arms around him as they both stare at the Nevarro sunset. When Din steals a look at their children, he sees them mimicking their parents’ embrace, though both their eyes are partially closed in exhaustion. Din chuckles to himself, the sound rumbling through his chest enough to make Astra lift her head.

“What?” Astra’s question is nothing but a soft and sweet breath.

Din gestures with his helmet to their children. “Look.”

Astra turns her head towards Grogu and Zora and lets out a sweet laugh. She holds tight to the material of Din’s cape in one of her hands and looks up at him with such reverence that it threatens to make his knees buckle beneath him. “It must be time for bed and breaking open that bottle of wine.”

Din nods, gaining the faith to step away from her as he tends to their children. He takes one child in each arm, letting them rest their weary heads upon his armored shoulders as he leads the way back inside their home. Din enters their children’s bedroom with Astra trailing him and sets Grogu and Zora on their respective beds. Astra helps him to tuck them in and say goodnight with a kiss to each of their heads.

After they both linger for a moment, Din and Astra let the door to the bedroom close and make their way to the kitchen. Din sets his helmet on the counter and turns to Astra, holding her waist and taking the time to observe her and her dress without the filter of his visor. Astra’s happiness bubbles over with giggles as she wraps her arms around his neck and brings him close enough for a kiss. It’s deeper than the one they shared before, though it’s just as brief, even as they pull away and go back to each other over and over again.

Eventually, Din stops the cycle to reach for the bottle of wine from Coruscant that Greef had gifted them. He draws his vibroblade from his boot to open it, making Astra gasp and squeeze his free arm before she laughs at him.

“There has to be a better way of doing this!” Astra insists just as Din manages to earn the satisfying pop! sound of the seal being broken.

“Sure.” Din sets the cork aside and offers the bottle to his wife. “But it’s probably not as exciting.”

Astra shakes her head, though the admiration she holds for him is evident in her sparkling gaze. She takes the bottle and considers its weight in her hand. “We should probably serve this in something nicer, but…” Astra grins and lifts the neck of the bottle towards her lips, “sharing it like this is also more exciting.”

Din openly admires his wife as she draws the first sip from the bottle. “That’s one way to put it.”

Astra huffs as she passes the bottle back to Din, letting him take the second sip. The wine is a smooth and soothing warmth that flows down his throat, engulfing his chest in a sensation much like that which Astra always brings him. Din raises his brow in sweet surprise.

“This tastes amazing.” Din glances at the bottle and chuckles in disbelief. “Greef wasn’t lying about the quality.”

“Well,” Astra starts, taking the bottle from Din when he offers it to her again and wrapping her free hand around the back of his neck, “I know something that tastes even better.”

Astra kisses Din in a way that makes even the knees of a great Mandalorian warrior go weak before she pulls away to take her next sip. They continue to go back-and-forth with the bottle, not needing any entertainment other than each other as they talk, laugh, and kiss between their shared sips. Din couldn’t have possibly imagined a better way to ring in their vow renewal, as well as their first evening together in their home—even if he has some other ideas.

By the time the bottle’s nearly empty, Astra’s sitting on top of the counter with Din’s arms wrapped around her. He rests his head against her chest as she takes another sip from the bottle. Even with the comfortable fogginess he’s earned from the wine, Din’s still acutely aware of their surroundings, and for the first time since they met, he’s positively certain about their safety.

Astra also seems to be thinking of their surroundings, as she releases a light gasp that makes Din snap his head up from her chest. Her gaze leaves whatever she’s observed to meet his own, the warm lights of the cabin dancing in her eyes. Din never wants to stop staring at them, at her. “I have an idea.”

Din can smell the wine on her breath, but she somehow makes it even sweeter. He’s sure the wine’s had the same effect on him in return. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Astra smiles from ear-to-ear, though her expression becomes more serious as she holds his face between her hands. “But if you find it to be uncomfortable or disrespectful in any way, you stop me right away. ‘Kay?”

Din wrinkles his brow and flattens his palms upon her back. “I’m sure it’ll be fine, ner kar’ta.”

Astra perks up again at that. “Good.” She giggles and lifts her fingers towards his eyes, delicately closing the lids. “Keep your eyes closed until I say so.”

“Yes, ma’am—Your Highness.”

Astra laughs and gives his armored shoulder a light swat. His hands are forced away from her when she leans for something, almost having to crawl around on the countertop before he senses the warmth of her legs against his hips and thighs once again. She can’t help letting out giggles at whatever she’s doing, making Din’s own chest rumble fondly at the mere idea of it all.

Astra taps Din’s cuirass a few times with her finger, but Din still keeps his eyes closed. “Is that my cue?”

“Yes!” Astra’s tone is purely amused, but the sound of her voice is different somehow, as if mumbled or even modulated.

Sure enough, when Din opens his eyes, he’s staring right into his own visor. He has to blink a few times through the fogginess the wine’s brought him to understand what’s happening, and once he does, he can’t keep himself from laughing the hardest he has in a long time. Astra’s reached for his helmet and slid it on over her own head, and now Din gets to be the one who holds the beskar cheeks and pulls her close enough for a Keldabe kiss. “What in the great galaxy gave you this idea, cyar’ika?”

“I just wanted to see you the way you always see me,” Astra insists, setting her hands upon his cuirass. “There’s a lot more to it than I thought.” She lifts a hand to Din’s hair and brushes it back from his forehead. “It smells like you.”

Din furrows his brow. “What does that mean?”

“It means it smells nice, riduur. Don’t worry.” Astra giggles and continues to run her hand through his hair. “You’re a clean guy. This armor never has a smudge, if you can help it.”

Din ignores the warmth in his face and huffs. “You wear it well, rid’ika.”

Astra gives Din a once-over that’s obvious with the movement of the helmet. He tries not to worry about whether his observations of her have always been so clear, too. “You wear it even better.”

“You think so?”

Astra holds the lip of Din’s helmet with one hand and lifts it high enough to show her mouth. “I do.” She closes the gap between them, putting Din on the other side of this helmet kiss for the first time. His smile against her lips is never-ending at the thought, even as they pull away from one another. Astra slides the helmet off and sets it beside her on the counter. “I’m sure you prefer something more comfortable, though.”

Din shrugs. “Sometimes.” He takes the bottle and draws his last sip from it, handing it to Astra for her to finish off.

Astra waits a moment to do so. “I’m definitely ready to get into something more comfortable.” She empties the bottle and places it where it had been before. Her eyes are wide and pleading as she wraps her arm around his neck. “I think I need some help getting out of this, though.”

Din can’t stop his sly grin from growing. “You didn’t seem to have a problem putting it on by yourself.”

Astra lets out a dramatic breath. “That was different!” She urges Din closer and furrows her brow in a pitiful manner. “Please?”

Din chuckles and kisses her forehead. “You never have to plead for my help, cyar’ika. Of course I will.” He urges her to tighten her legs around him as he lifts her the same way he had earlier that day. “C’mon. Let’s get you comfortable.”

Astra’s cheek presses against the unarmored part of his shoulder as she exhales in relief. “Thank you, my love.”

Din rests his head against hers and makes his way to their bedroom. “You don’t have to thank me, rid’ika.”

“You’re really strong, you know.”

Din has to huff with amusement to keep the flush out of his face. “It’s nothing compared to your strength.”

The door to their bedroom slides open for them and closes once Din walks through the threshold. He eases Astra back onto her feet and meets her expression of doubt. “First of all, not true. Second of all…” she pauses, as if she’s lost the thought within her mind and exchanged it for another, “you’re very beautiful.”

Din forces himself not to look away, despite his shyness. “That means a lot coming from you.” He kisses each end of her scar and takes a deep breath. “All right, can I help you get comfortable, now?”

Astra nods, beaming as she turns around to allow Din to complete his work. He removes his gloves first, using his teeth and tucking them into his belt. The daze of his slight drunkenness doesn’t affect his ability to work as nimbly as possible, attending to each button and clasp on the material of the dress with diligence. Astra’s holding it up against her front, waiting for Din to confirm he’s finished before she lets it slide off.

As it turns out, it’s what’s hidden underneath that’s been her true surprise all along.

Din doesn’t have to look at Astra’s face to know she’s taking delight in his pleasant shock, every part of his body going rigid except for his eyes. His gaze finally meets her own, and the look she gives Din makes him forget whether it’s her or the wine that's made his galaxy feel so hazy.

Din shifts his weight and gestures to Astra’s image before him. “You never mentioned…” he pauses, but there’s no word good enough to describe what he’s seeing, “this.”

“Actually, I did.” Astra grins and bends down to set her dress aside. Din has to force himself to glance away from her to maintain his self control, his jaw tightening in his effort. “I told you I made purchas-es in the marketplace.”

Din’s gaze finds her again and he has to run a hand over his head to hide the way his chest inflates so quickly at the mere sight of her. “Well, you gave me no warning.”

“You’re a Mandalorian, Din.” Astra approaches him and watches her hands as they press upon his cuirass and spread out to his armored shoulders. “You don’t need a warning to be ready.” Her grasp finds his arms as she gives them a gentle squeeze. “And you’re strong enough to handle anything.”

Din wants to respond, but he can’t. His mind’s gone blank, and his mouth is drier than the Dune Sea. He’s face-to-face with the greatest wonder of the galaxy, yet she’s the one complimenting him.

“Plus, you knew I’d be getting the dress, so I still wanted to give you a gift.” Astra begins to take Din’s armor off for him, setting the pieces of beskar aside with as much care as he would. “No matter how much you might try to say otherwise, it was you who provided this home for us, and I want to thank you properly for that.” Astra smiles at Din, her eyes kind as she takes his right pauldron off and presses a kiss to the mudhorn. “So, what do you think?”

Din takes a breath for composure, even if the effort’s futile. “Honestly?” Astra raises her brow, inviting him to go on. “I’m incapable of having any thoughts right now.”

Astra laughs at that, burying her face against his arm for a moment in her tell of shyness before she sets his last piece of armor and weaponry aside. She starts to look almost guilty as she rests her arms upon his shoulders. “Is it too much?”

Din shakes his head. “No, rid’ika, not at all. It’s just…” he exhales a dreamy sigh and cups the side of her face, “you’re always a gift to me, no matter what.” Astra starts to smile again at that. Din runs his thumb under her shining eye. “And you’ve really spoiled me tonight.”

Astra giggles at that. “Well, the wine is helping with the courage.”

Din raises an eyebrow. “Courage?”

Astra’s fingers play with the ends of his hair as she answers. “It’s never easy surprising a Mandalorian, Din.” She presses her palm against his neck, the cool metal of her beskar ring making its presence known. “Even if you’re married to them.”

Din’s gaze follows his hands as they trace the outline of her figure all the way down to her waist. “Just say the word, and I’ll make it worth it.”

Astra lifts a hand to Din’s chin, tilting his face up to meet her own. She urges his forehead to meet hers as she smiles in a dizzying way. “You already have.”

Din returns her smile and brushes his lips over hers. “In that case, I’d like to thank you properly for your gift.”

Astra’s eyelids begin to flutter as she brings herself as close to him as possible. “Take me home.”

Their lips meet and everything after that is a blur, mostly in the sweet haze that still clouds Din’s awareness from both his wife and the wine. It’s only the smoothness of Astra’s skin along with her sweet sighs that bring him back to the galaxy in some capacity, the softness of her against him rivaling that of the sheets on their brand-new bed. He wants her as close to him as possible, he needs it, his reminder that he no longer has to imagine what a home without her would ever look like.

They’re finally in their own home, now, but Din knows no place would ever hold that title if Astra wasn’t there with him.

So, Din holds her right up against him, their hands entwined on the warmth of her middle as he wraps himself around her from behind. He’s more than content to bury his face in her neck and shoulder, breathing and exclaiming praises Astra deserves to hear not just now, but always. It’s times like these where he’s at his best because it’s when she truly and fully becomes his better half, his guiding star in a galaxy of darkness.

Astra frees a hand to grasp the side of Din’s head, tangling her fingers in his hair in a way that forces him to gently bite her skin. “Din,” she tries, her voice coming as a mere and pleased breath, “can I…” she pauses to curse, “can I look at you?”

Din obliges without hesitation, though he’s aware of how beautifully dangerous her gaze can be for him. He helps Astra move until they’re chest-to-chest, and though she pauses their perfect rhythm, she keeps herself in place as she holds his face between her hands. It almost drives Din crazier than the alternative would have.

“You’ve been praising me for my beauty, which I appreciate more than you could ever know.” Astra smiles as she gets the words out between her heavy breaths and even presses a kiss to his forehead. “But you have to know the same about yourself.” She rests her forehead against his own, her sweet severity striking Din deep within his chest. “Because you, my love, are so, so fucking beautiful.” Once she begins to move again, she repeats the curse, burying her face in his neck and her nails into his back. “I can feel it.”

Din huffs, kissing her head as he speaks around his own struggling breaths. “Are you sure you can feel it?”

Astra begins her artwork upon his back and Din can sense her fighting to say her response. “Yeah, Din, I can fucking feel it.” She sighs with a reverence that Din wants to memorize. “And I don’t want to ever stop feeling it.”

“I’ll make sure of it.” Din’s now an endless stream of these words between whispers, growls, and whimpers of her name, unable to stop focusing on pleasing her the way she’s always done for him. “You’ve always been so good for me, and so good to everyone.” Din inhales sharply, overcome with emotion and pleasure. “And so loving…” he holds her waist even tighter, “and that’s all I want to feel, Astra.” Din buries himself and his adoring curses into her skin the best he can. “You.”

From there, the declarations of love between them are endless, the phrase being exchanged within their beautifully shattered poems created only for one another. The evidence is present in marks, scratches, and forming bruises meant for their eyes only, the physical remnants of this pure love and affection Din can grasp to long after this moment’s passed.

When he and Astra have officially made their home here, Din keeps her close, letting her lay with her head upon his chest as he becomes the one to scratch her back—but only in the most soothing and gentle way possible.

It’s only when Astra’s chest begins to slow once again that she finds her voice and speaks through their sweet silence. “It’s a good thing this cabin is big enough for a fifth member of the family, isn’t it?”

Din laughs, careful not to bounce Astra’s head too much on his rumbling chest. “We’ll just let the Force or whatever work that one out.” He leans forward enough to kiss her head. “For now, how about we test out the refresher?”

Astra lifts her hand and supports her chin with her hands. Her brow is wrinkled with amusement. “Barely giving me any time to recover?”

Din huffs and runs his hand over her head. “All I want to do is help you get settled for bed, honestly.” He shrugs. “You did say I was a clean guy earlier, didn’t you?”

“You’re right.” Astra giggles and rests her head against Din again. “But I think you’re gonna have to carry me there.”

Din starts to take her more firmly in his grasp. “I was already planning on it.”

With that, Din gets to do his greatest honor, taking care of his wife by helping her wash up and prepare for bed. The entire time, he dwells on the utter peace of it all, the realization that he doesn’t have to constantly glance over his shoulder for threats. They still exist, and Din would never doubt that, but it’s much different than before. Mandalore and its people weren’t the only things they worked to free. At long last, they earned their own freedom, from Moff Gideon and anyone else tied to him.

But as Din watches Astra fall asleep on him and follows suit for the first time in this beautiful home of theirs, he can’t possibly be aware of every phantom threat—especially the one who’s just about to return to the galaxy with an unprecedented vengeance.

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[amiedala]

SOMETHING HOLY

CHAPTER 7: No Mercy

WARNINGS: angst, explicit content, LOTS of blood

SUMMARY: No mercy, Nova had said. 

He takes the helmet off. A grin spreads across Din’s face, sickened and bloody, as he rips limb from limb. 

At the end, there’s just silence. He stands, covered in crimson and guts, with the blade of the Darksaber flickering in the same pulse as his heartbeat. It is monstrous and wonderful and he feels nothing but adrenaline, coursing through his veins. The helmet hisses back into place like a rattlesnake striking its prey.

Din turns around, wipes the blood marring his visor, and runs back to Nova. 

He sheathes the Darksaber. He tries to sink back into his skin, to put the monster back into its cage. 

It goes, angrily, snarling, all the way back to her.                    

AUTHOR'S NOTE: HAPPY SOMETHING HOLY SATURDAY!!! i had such a wicked and exciting time writing this one ;) ENJOY! leave me a comment at the end if you did <3

If you're new here, Something More & Something Deeper are the first installments in this series, available on here & ao3!

Everything is hollowed. Fucked out. The rest of the world filters away, vanishing. 

Nova drops to her knees, then crashes against the ground. Din’s not quick enough. Maker, it’s like he’s been trapped in amber. He’s fast, but he’s not fast enough. He cries out, the sound high and panicked through the modulator. Din sounds wounded, but he’s not the one that’s been stabbed. Nova’s white-faced, all the color leached out. She is held together with whispers and prayers, with nothing but him. 

She keeps fucking bleeding. His hands are doing nothing to staunch it all, leaving out of her like an oil spill. Something terrible is flashing in the back of his mind. Something that feels an awful lot like deja vu. 

This is how it must have felt, he realizes, horrified, frozen, when he got knifed with Sparmau’s poison dagger, and Nova had to keep him alive and pilot the shattered Mand’alor vessel away from enemy territory. The weight of the world, she holds it up. It slams into him like a Star Destroyer.

Din feels—bowled over. Scraped raw.

“Novalise,” he hisses. Her eyes flutter, rolling back in her skull. “Nova. Wake up.” It’s senseless. She is out entirely, on a different plane of existence, on a different reality. She’s so cold. Her blood pools around his gloved hands. She got hit deep. Somewhere critical. Fear leapfrogs up his throat. It tastes like bile. 

This is a fucking disaster. They should have never come here—to Corellia. To the Unknown Regions at all. Everything that’s happened since that damn distress call.They should have stayed in the stars, out there in the darkness, before any of this was real. If he could go back—he would pin her down back on Mandalore, before Nova decided to do this, to run headfirst into a rescue mission where she is within the line of fire. 

But that’s not who she is, his Nova. She cannot be caged. So he will be a monster for her. But this time… this time, he wasn’t fast enough. 

Din swallows, tries again. “Can you hear me?” 

It’s senseless. It doesn’t work. She’s passed out, which is likely a terrible sign, Din’s only passed out—clean, full out—a few times, and each instance, it was when he almost died. He keeps reliving Novalise falling to her knees, on repeat. He shakes his head, trying to clear it, trying to dislodge the memory. He hooks his fingers under the rim of his helmet, exposing his face. He doesn’t care who’s watching. He’s going to burn this entire planet to the ground. “Nova,” he whispers again. 

A miracle happens. Her eyes open. Blearily, pained, but they’re open. 

There’s something in his eyes. Din wipes the back of his bloodied glove across his face, realizing what it is when it comes back wet and clear. Tears. “Hey. Can you hear me?” 

“Ouch,” she whispers, voice croaking. Din almost laughs—laughs—in sheer relief. 

“Hold on for me,” he whispers, compounding the wound with his gloves. Maker, they’re dirty. Filthy. But he can’t worry about infection. Not now. Keeping Nova alive is mission number one. Hera will have bacta, needles, compounds—all of it, back on the ship. He’s seen her use up her dwindling supply on Nova already. He just needs to get her okay enough to get her back to the Ghost, then he can go save Bo-Katan and Wedge. He can do that. He can carry that weight. He won’t collapse. “Stay awake, baby.” 

Her eyebrows furrow. Nova coughs up blood spatter. Her pink lips are a ghastly shade of white, stained on the insides. “‘M trying,” she slurs. “What—what happened?” 

“That lowlife hunter,” Din snarls. His voice is a blade. He increases the pressure of his hands against her wound, and Nova whimpers. He has to steel himself, gritting his teeth down to refuse to rip his hands away. “Stabbed you. Deep. I’m gonna kill him.” 

“No,” Nova manages. Her hair is haloed out around her on the ground. Din bites down on his lower lip, fetid wind blowing over the both of them. It’s cold. Corellia’s temperate until it isn’t, but right now, it’s freezing. They’re not far from the makeshift battlefield—they’ve run a couple of klicks into the center of Coronet City, but the remaining forces of their enemy could very easily be on their six. “No need. Already did.” 

Love floods him. Din bites out a quick laugh. “Of course.” He shudders in a shaky breath. “Course you did, sweet girl.” 

Nova blinks up at him. “It hurts,” she manages, and her voice cracks down the middle. She’s putting on a brave face, his Novalise, but she’s in bad shape. “How much blood have I lost?”

Din leans down, presses a quick kiss to her clammy forehead. He’s deflecting, and he knows it’s apparent. He knows that Nova could see it written across his untrained face, but it doesn’t matter. Not more than evacuating her, now. He’s not answering that question. “I’m getting you out of here,” he promises, putting his helmet back on. “We’re jetting back to the ship. Gonna compress your wound, okay—” 

“No.” It cuts clean through. The airlocks hiss as he snaps his helmet back into place. Din stops, blinking at her through the visor. It’s been running her metrics in the absence of when it was last on his head. She’s lost so much blood. That fact keeps cycling through, entirely unhelpful, bringing him back to reality. This is—unfair. Royally so. She was saving him, chasing him, fighting his battles for him. Anger is aerating through his bloodstream, and Din swallows a growl in the back of his throat. Losing it won’t help anything. Won’t keep Nova safe from slaughter.

Maker, he really, really wishes it would. He wants to feel blood pouring out on his own hands. He wants to unleash vengeance. He wants to call revenge by name. 

“Nova. I need to bring you back to the ship.” 

“Not happening.” Her eyes flutter again, pupils unfocused. “‘M coming with you.” 

Din stares. “You can’t—” 

“They’re coming.” 

It’s so quiet. He doesn’t realize what she’s said at first—and then he hears it. The sound of footsteps. They’re not concealed. Not under the helmet. He could hear the bloodstream of a rodent with the combination of the Mandalorian mask and his fine-tuned senses. And that’s exactly what’s coming towards them right now—fucking vermin. He stands. A blade. His body becomes a blade. 

“Here.” Nova’s hand clenches at her side. “Take this—” 

“I am not,” Din enunciates, cold and flat through the modulator, “leaving you.” 

Nova holds his concealed eyes, just for a second, before she shutters hers in pain. “Take it, Din.” Her hand wraps around the shaft of it, and then she’s unclipping the Darksaber from her belt. 

He stares. “It’s not mine anymore—”

“Not the time,” Nova manages, breath uneven, “for saber-wielding semantics.” She wheezes, spitting out more blood, and Din’s panic flares again, a heat-spike, red-hot. “Do it.” 

He blinks at her. “I can’t.” 

“You can. Cut them down,” Nova whispers. Then she shoves at him—with so much more strength than he would have been able to muster—and it propels him to his feet. “No mercy.” She cracks a wan, exhausted smile. It curves up, half-scarlet, and fuck if it isn’t the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. “Then you come back to me.” 

Din Djarin disappears. The Mandalorian takes over. It whistles through his bloodstream, the strength of it. He is a weapon, a blade, the thing that lives in the darkness. He hasn’t been this—the beskar bullet, the metallic monstrosity—for years long past. Before Nova. He can still don the mask and pretend, but this is different. Troopers and hunters alike surge around the corner, and he flexes, breathes, unloads.

No living thing stands a chance. 

*

Pain. 

That’s the only word that registers, the only feeling Nova knows. It comes on like a lava surge, white-hot and deafening. She looks down, blurry-eyed, at the gash in her stomach, a knife wedged tight into the muscle of her pre-existing scar. It’s almost laughable, the irony of it all. 

“Okay,” she whispers. The world shifts around the edges, elastic. The knife squelches in her abdomen, and Nova winces. “You,” she chastises herself, “can do the hard thing.” 

She can. Novalise is very good at doing the hard thing. The problem is—she knows the blade is plunged into something bad. Her liver, maybe. Her spleen. In a divine comedy, this knife sliced through her sinew in the same place Sparmau’s poison dagger did to Din, back on Hinari, back what feels like a lifetime ago and is only a handful of months. Nova felt stronger then, but in all reality, she’s stronger now. 

It’s facing death for what seems like the umpteenth time, stuck with a relentless blade. She’s here again. She’s always here, it seems. 

Novalise has seen so much hurt. This same scar has been carved into her skin like an awful melody, muscle memory. She’s suddenly transported—back to when she was still a teenager, back when she ran right into the hornet’s nest, a viper’s den, danger that didn’t give way to goodness. She’s nineteen and haunted again, chained down in iron to a ship that was a sucking pit of despair, with a man whose kisses were venom and whose hands were made of terror. 

She is not there. She is not Andromeda. Not anymore.

And the last time Novalise got stabbed in the stomach, she pulled light from the sky itself. She doesn’t need to do that this time, but she will. 

Because she can. 

Distantly, very distantly, Nova can hear Din cutting through the rat’s nest of troopers and hunters. Flaying them alive. She knows he will be a pit of a man for her, an interlude of darkness and terror, and he will come back on his knees. He will pray for forgiveness. 

He doesn’t need to, though. He’s already gotten hers. 

She’s the holy thing granting it. 

“You,” Nova levels with herself, “can do this.” There’s no room left but to face it. Nova has spent enough time anthropomorphizing the past, pulling it in layers over her skin. There is nothing another timeline can do for her now. There is nothing that can save her back in her memory. 

Nova has spent months fighting against her intuition to do things alone. But this time, she isn’t running away. She’s ripping the blade out of her skin, and she is facing the light, and she is going to save her friends—her family. No more running. Just fighting back. 

She does the hard thing. She pulls the dagger out, inch by sickening inch. 

Biting into the heel of her hand to staunch the screaming, Nova props herself half-up against the wall. She utters a string of curse words under her breath—ones in Basic, Mando’a , Huttese, and a few more that she picked up along the way. She’s the daughter of a collector of linguistics, and Nova knows how to cuss her way through at least twenty languages. “Okay,” she says, wiping the sheen of sweat from her face, “okay.” She utters the word over and over again, until she’s convinced herself that she is. 

The Darksaber is being wielded by her Mandalorian, so Nova unclips her own lightsaber from her belt. It’s covered in crusted blood, the silver handle tinged crimson. She bites down on her swollen lip as she ignites it, feeling power spark to life in her exhausted bloodstream. The blade flickers and trips, but it doesn’t falter. Nova stares into the golden abyss. Her lightsaber gazes back. 

“You can do this,” she whispers, calling on the strength of all her past and future selves. They flick through her shuttered eyes like a hologram, like fortification. She sees her parents’ faces. That’s likely not a good sign—stars, she’s really bleeding—but Nova takes that as a good omen. That’s what she does. Takes a black hole and pulls a supernova out of it. She is her own exploding star. 

She cauterizes this wound with her lightsaber. Maybe it’s a metaphor for something, but Nova can’t think of anything else but stardust right now. She is not forged by the darkness. It cannot call her by name. 

Only Nova can do that.

It’s not the first time Novalise has forged her own scar into her skin, but this one is different. The last time, she was on the brink of death out in the crush of space. This time, she’s planted on the ground. There’s still something cosmic in that, though. Something holy. 

Novalise is the only star on Corellia. She detracts her lightsaber’s blade, and the world still glows yellow. 

*

Din Djarin isn’t here. He is hiding, far underneath the mask that he wears and the Creed that he once swore by. He is not bleeding crimson rivers, but if he did, there would be no wound that could cut him down. At this moment, he has ceased to be a man. He is all Mandalorian—all fighter. No, that’s not correct. Even soldier is too small of a word. The definition is closer to warrior, but even that is far below what he is. 

He is an oil spill, vantablack in movement, silver in makeup. He is tungsten and steel, a weapon forged from beskar. The Darksaber—decidedly not his—flickers in his hand, pulsing the people he cuts down into grayscale. It’s heavy. So heavy. It is the weapon of something stronger than he is, but that something is laying on the ground behind him. And Din wants them all to pay for it. 

He does not know the Empire. Not intimately like the people that surround them. Not personally like Novalise. He does not care. It doesn’t matter who they are. If the troopers are being called upon by the mysterious First Order. If the bounty hunters are reporting to a shadowy figure. Those are not questions he is equipped to know the answers to. The truth is that it doesn’t matter. None of it matters except wielding the weapon in his hands. 

No mercy. That’s what Novalise said back there, blood staining his gloves scarlet, pooling over her perfect mouth. She gave him permission. No mercy. 

Din Djarin is not answering to his name. He is not taking prisoners. He does not care about life. Every single person in front of him is responsible for the attack on Novalise, crumpled and bloody on the ground. He will stomp the light out of their eyes. He will massacre the evil from the ground around them. 

He cuts through the army surrounding him like paper. Not humans. Not anything, not anymore. Nova would mourn their half-lives—because she is good, because she has not become a sucking wound, even in the face of so much horror. 

But Novalise is not the Djarin in front of this swarm of evil. They have Din to answer to. And he’s not listening. 

He does not stop. He is relentless. He is a warrior, a weapon, the darkest version of himself, and for the first time in years, Din can switch his humanity off. He doesn’t care. He cannot care. Every single one of these people—stormtroopers and bounty hunters alike—were responsible for his heart laying half-dead in the back of a filthy alleyway, stuck with a knife so big it could have cleaved her in half. 

No mercy, Nova had said. 

He takes the helmet off. A grin spreads across Din’s face, sickened and bloody, as he rips limb from limb. 

At the end, there’s just silence. He stands, covered in crimson and guts, with the blade of the Darksaber flickering in the same pulse as his heartbeat. It is monstrous and wonderful and he feels nothing but adrenaline, coursing through his veins. The helmet hisses back into place like a rattlesnake striking its prey. Din turns around, wipes the blood marring his visor, and runs back to Nova. 

He sheathes the Darksaber. He tries to sink back into his skin, to put the monster back into its cage. 

It goes, angrily, snarling, all the way back to her.                                                                               

*

When Din returns, Nova isn’t where he left her. She did that on purpose. She’s propped against the steel of the building behind her, but she’s standing. Her top hangs in shreds around her midriff. She spits a mouthful of blood onto the filthy ground, disappearing into the dust. Her hands are braced on either side of the wall, slung low like an assassin, face grimed with sweat and blood alike. 

“What the hell,” Din asks, low and angry, “did you do?” 

Nova musters a smile, wincing as another round of pain rips through her. “You were busy.” 

There’s silence. Then a low, quiet hiss as he removes the helmet. Her heart catches in her throat when she realizes that Din ran off into battle with it removed, at least partially. That signifies no survivors. He is bloody, crimson splashed across his beautiful, tortured face. Heat runs through her, even amidst all that pain, and Nova inhales, staggering, staring into the silhouette of the man she loves. He is not the darkness he just swallowed and spat back out. He is in front of her in armor, but the face her Mandalorian is wearing is not the Mandalorian’s at all. 

“Nova—” His voice is low, flagellating. Another thrill runs through her. “You—” 

“Had a problem,” she says, gesturing at her now-exposed midriff, the curve of her belly sucked in and carved with a new scar. “And I fixed it.” 

He steps forward. Those footsteps could shake the ground beneath them. They have. They will again. Nova sighs as he catches her swaying, exhausted body and pins it between him and the wall. Safety. She hums, endorphins overriding all the hurt still coursing through her bloodstream. “Fuck,” Din says. No—he snarls it, right into her open mouth, and Nova maps his brown, deep eyes on her own. “You—cauterized your o-own wound?” 

Nova offers him a grin, cocking her head to the side, curls blowing in the acrid wind. His hand curls up around her cheek. She knows it comes off bloody. “Not the first time I’ve had to,” she whispers, and then the reality of the situation sets in. She swallows, blinking back sudden, desperate tears. “I’m fine,” she says, damage control. Maker, Din’s eyes are almost black. “I’m okay, Din. I promise. I—well, I’m holding it together.” Then, the real version of the truth: “I’m safe.” She looks up at him. “Now.”

He’s staring into her soul. It feels like a heart attack. Nova’s stuttered breath catches in her throat. “I am doing a very dangerous thing,” he grits out, “letting you stay out here. Do you understand me?” His hand grips her chin, lifting it to meet his. He’s only inches away, and Nova’s newly cauterized stomach flips over—in hunger. Want. Need.

“Yes,” she breathes. 

“Should’ve you slung over my shoulder.” He’s muttering. Nova leans closer. “Should take you b-back to the ship. Shouldn’t let you stay out here.” This rambling, forged together of half-sentences and clipped words, sounds like the Din she knew before she knew he was Din at all—when he was just the Mandalorian and she was barely Novalise yet. 

“I slaughtered them,” Din whispers into the hollow of her open mouth. “I slaughtered them.” It sounds like a vow. No—a prayer. 

“It’s okay,” Nova manages. “You were—” 

“Protecting you,” Din growls. “No—avenging you. You said no mercy.” 

Nova doesn’t break eye contact, doesn’t look away. “And I meant it.” 

His head is slung so, so low. His forehead—rife with gore—is pressed up against hers. “I killed them all, cyar’ika.” 

Past-Nova would have been heavy with grief—thankful, but uncomfortable. Not now. She is not a murderer, but there are some forces in this galaxy that cannot be saved. That need to be cut down, cut away from the festering, invading wound of unfixable evil. She saw it back with the cloning tanks. She saw it in Sparmau’s teeth. She saw it in Gideon’s stare. She felt it in the blue, even face of Thrawn. Even just in nightmares, she’s known the evil coming out of them—leaching, bleeding, like an oil spill. She doesn’t need to be her own avenging angel. 

She has her Mandalorian for that. 

“They would have killed me,” she whispers. “They tried to. They would have gotten to Bo and Wedge, too.” Nova swallows. Two words—what a weight they hold: “I’m glad.” 

His mouth slots against hers—timid at first, then coaxing, then a fucking wildfire. He kisses like he’s starving, like he’s been whetting himself on danger and adrenaline while her lips were away from hers. Nova sighs as Din holds her face flush against hers, tongue licking into her mouth like a viper. She wants to get drunk on his particular brand of venom. She needs him inside her like a demon. She wants to be possessed by Din Djarin. Getting fucked isn’t enough. 

A moan unfurls from behind her teeth, spilling over into his, and Din freezes. With the strength of something holy, he wrenches himself free. “I am doing a very dangerous thing,” he murmurs again, “letting you stay out here. With me. Rather than bringing you back to safety.” 

“Din,” Nova whispers, and a small whimper leaves his lips at the sound of his name, “if you tried to put me back on the Ghost, now, when we still have our friends to save, I would fight you.” 

A wicked smile curls across his mouth. “You would, hm?” 

She nods, looking up into his eyes like a siren. She reaches forward, for his belt, and his knees sag when she finds it—and then Nova yanks the Darksaber off of it, igniting the slick, spitting blade. Both of them shutter into black and white, and Nova sees Din’s pupils flare so large his whole iris is almost black. “This,” she breathes, “belongs to me.”

He groans. “That’s not the only thing that does,” he murmurs, and then, with a Herculean effort, he pulls away. Nova sheathes the blade, flaring back to the blue-grey dampness of Corellia’s atmosphere. “You tell me,” he warns, “if you feel worse, if you feel anything—” 

“I will.” 

Holding her gaze for what feels like an eternity, Din nods. When he turns to put the helmet back on, Nova winces, falters, then forces her way through. She is fortified by her Mandalorian and from her own light. Both forged by stardust. 

They soldier on. 

*

“Anything?”

Bo-Katan throws Wedge a glare over her shoulder. “If I had the signal back by now,” she says, sourly, “I would have told you.” 

Wedge sighs, dragging a hand over his face. His stubble is longer than she’s ever seen it. Wedge’s age doesn’t often show—the four of them are scattered across their late forties and early thirties, now—but it does now. “Okay.” 

Bo-Katan softens. A little. “I’m working on it,” she whispers, a shade lighter than the voice she usually uses. “They must have crossed over into the inner rung of the city by now, though.” 

Wedge’s eyes are fixed on a hollow point behind her. They’re in what looks like an old shipping container. Bo-Katan didn’t happen to look before she threw both of their bodies inside and locked the door. The troopers were close—too close. Internally, she muses over this as she fiddles with their damaged radio, held together with little more than hope. These troopers—they were far from incompetent, slung onto the field with blunt force and a desire to shoot blaster rounds. They seemed…organized. With older armor. Of the Empire, not of its scattered remains. She swallows, flipping from station to station, trying to root out the static. 

“This is bad,” Wedge admits, his head hung heavy. And then, quieter, “I’m scared.” 

Bo-Katan catches his eye. He looks exhausted. Neither of them have slept much over the last few days, especially since the cheap, thieving Mon Cala they hitched a ride with sold them out to the troopers. “I know.” She doesn’t try to push the feeling away. 

Hell, she’s scared too. Thrawn, back in this galaxy. Thrawn, in his massive Star Destroyer, heading towards Hoth. Bo-Katan hates Hoth. Thinks an ice planet is a waste of space. But she knows how much it means to Wedge. And Nova. They’ve both been displaced out of a home—since the Alliance moved to Hoth, it’s the home Wedge has lived in when not out in the stars. And Nova… it’s one of the last untouched places where her parents once lived. 

“How bad?” Wedge’s voice snaps her back to the present. Bo-Katan fiddles with the radio again for something to do with her hands. If she doesn’t, they’ll be curled into fists. 

“How bad, what?” She’s deflecting. 

“Thrawn.” 

Bo-Katan sighs, pinching the bridge of her swollen nose. One of the troopers broke it with the butt of his blaster. Consequently, she ripped off his chestplate and fired the remaining rounds straight into his heart. “Bad.” 

Wedge swallows. “I was afraid,” he muses, crossing his arms over his chest, “of that.” 

Bo-Katan inhales, exhales. “Wedge,” she manages, “...I’m sorry.” 

He holds her eyes, a small smile captured on his lips. He knows what she means—sorry for being this way, sorry for getting him in this situation, sorry that they’re stuck together again, sorry that she wasn’t strong enough to get them out of this mess, sorry that Din and Nova are rushing here and putting their lives on the line for the two of them again, sorry that his home is about to be pulverized. She’s sorry for it all. Even the stuff she doesn’t have control over. 

“I know.” A beat. “I’m sorry, too.” 

The radio flares to life. “Bo-Katan?” 

It’s a female voice. Not Nova’s, though. Bo-Katan blinks, sitting up a little straighter. “Hera?” 

“I told Din and Nova to be back here with you both an hour ago,” she says, voice staccato from the static. “I’m assuming something has gone horribly wrong, right?” 

Bo-Katan exhales through her sore nostrils, wincing. “It’s likely.” 

Hera’s quiet. “Should I wait?” 

Her eyes flick to Wedge. He nods. Imperceptibly, but Bo-Katan can read his expressions by now. “Yes.” 

“We’re running—”

“Out of time,” Wedge cuts in, moving closer to the radio. “But—” 

Hera’s voice comes through again. “I’ll wait.” 

Bo-Katan smiles up at the rusty ceiling of the shipping container. Something nasty is dripping off in the corner, and the smell in here is rank, musty, but she can see a tiny glimpse of the night sky, and there’s a star. Bo-Katan Kryze doesn’t usually do signs, but she does do stars. 

“What are the odds,” Hera continues, “that the four of you will end up back on the Ghost alive?” 

At this, Bo-Katan cracks a wide, true smile. Nova would be thrilled. “General Syndulla,” she says, proudly, “I sure as hell wouldn’t bet against us.” 

Hera sighs. “I have their location,” she says. “Maybe, if they couldn’t get to you—”

“We’ll get to them,” Wedge says firmly. 

“We don’t have time,” Hera reminds them. Bo-Katan can sense the fear in her voice. It’s the same fear she’s kept close to her own chest. “Be safe. But—” 

“We’ll be quick,” Bo-Katan promises. She looks over at Wedge, mustering up all the energy she can. “Ready?” 

He gets to his feet—gingerly, carefully, but when he stands all the way up, he’s locked in. Hardcore. All Rebel. “As I’ll ever be.” 

Bo-Katan musters up one more true smile. One for her friend Wedge. After all they’ve been through, he deserves it. “Run.” 

And they unleash hell on the center of Coronet City. 

*

Nova winces. She recovers, quick enough to hope against hope that Din didn’t catch it—but he is nothing if not observant, especially in that helmet, and he whips around. “Stop.” 

She fixes him with a sour look. “I,” Nova proclaims, “am fine.” 

Din sighs. “You were stabbed and cauterized your own wound, Novalise,” he says, “you are certainly not fine.” 

She exhales and then relents, sagging back against the wall. They’re in another alleyway, now, and this one is considerably cleaner than the last. Less bloody. She hisses out a breath between her clenched teeth, dragging the shredded remains of her tank top up over her bellybutton. She can hear Din’s breath through the helmet, and it fogs her clarity. 

“Let me see.” 

She does. 

They’ve been here before. They’ve been here before multiple times. Blood dripping, the other person silencing it, stifling it. Din rips one glove off with the other—his hands, topographic and so much softer than anything else on his body—are unbloodied. The only thing on his entire suit of armor that isn’t dripping scarlet. That makes love flare up in her chest, suddenly, completely. Nova watches him, carefully, lovingly, as he lifts her shirt higher, breath catching somewhere between his throat and the modulator. “Looks okay.” 

Nova looks at him through half-lidded eyes. “Only okay?” 

He tilts his head to the side, affixing her with a tired look. She can tell, even through the visor. It’s the only part of his helmet that isn’t sticky, gored with dead stormtroopers. The blood, for once, does not bother her. Want sings low in her injured stomach, and Nova bites down on her bottom lip.

“Novalise.” 

“What?” 

He sighs again, and then Din bends lower, sinking down on his haunches until he’s level with her on the ground. Nova grabs onto his clean, ungloved hand, needing to feel his warmth. It coils around her with comfort, and she relaxes. Just a little. “You,” he says, irritably, “are distracting me.” 

She laughs—the sound is melodic as bells in such a hellish atmosphere. Din’s bare hand finds her cheek, stroking over her cheekbone, her bottom lip. They both melt, a little, into each other. Entwining like roots of the same gnarled tree. Nova feels uncalled tears stinging at the bridge of her nose, flooding in at the corners of her eyes. The air is heavy, thick. Tensioned. She’s suspended here by her Mandalorian. “What?”

“C’mere.”

Nova feels air leave her lungs, air she didn’t have the capacity to give. “I’m here,” she whispers, the sound barely a sound at all.

“This is going to hurt,” Din says gruffly, and fear drops in Nova’s chest like an anvil.

“Nope.” 

“Novalise—”

“No needles.” 

He looks at her head-on. In the low light of the quickening dark around them, Nova can almost see the outline of his eyes. Maybe she’s just memorized them—the depth of them, where they sit on his face. “You pulled a blade out of the muscle of your stomach,” Din says, shortly, “and the cauterized it.” 

“Yes.” 

“But a bacta needle is where you draw the line?” 

Nova hisses in a breath between her teeth. She can see her reflection in the silver of his helmet. “Yes,” she repeats. 

Din sighs. This time, it is wearily. “It’ll be a pinch.” 

“I don’t want it—” 

“You take everything else, my good girl,” he murmurs, “why not this?”

Nova points a finger in his face, stabbing the nail against the visor. “Hey. You’re not playing fair—” 

“Novalise,” he interrupts, holding her cheek in one gloved hand, “just—do this for me, okay?” 

She swallows. Relents. Din lifts her chin with one hand and sinks the needle into the lip of her exposed belly with the other. She yelps, a little one, and then the antibiotic seeps in, and Nova relaxes. The needle hurts—but the rush of the medicine helps soothe the sting. And Din’s touch—well, that soothes it, too. She wipes a single pearl of blood away from where the point went in. Din brushes one gloved finger over it, feather-light, and it disappears into the leather. 

“That wasn’t so bad,” Din murmurs, “was it, cyar’ika?” 

“You distracted me,” she says, haughtily, expecting Din to laugh again. But his grip tightens, his knees sag, and both of them sink back against the wall. Nova blinks up again, grimey forehead almost pressed flush against his metal one. “Din—?”

“You scared me,” Din says quietly. “Terrified me. If I had gotten back there and you were—” he chokes, and the tears spill to the forefront of her eyes. “Fuck, Novalise. I don’t—I don’t know what I would have done.” 

She swallows. She wants to touch his face, to ground him against her. To push the fear away. “I’m alive,” Nova breathes. “I’m here.”

Something changes in his body language, although she can’t quite put a finger on what. Tightens. Shifts. Like silver mercury, becoming rigid. “What if—” 

“No what ifs,” Nova says, much more decisive than she feels. “I am right here.” And it’s true, she realizes. For the first time since they left Mandalore on this gods-damned failed mission, she feels like herself. Whatever was inhabiting her—the darkness—has quieted. Put on mute. Not gone. She can feel it, still. But for right now—now, the fight has flooded back into her veins—she is starlight, golden, herself. Nova tightens her grip on Din’s hand, still silhouetting her face. “You pulled me back,” she whispers. “Every time, you pull me back.” 

It conjures a memory. Not one that’s passed—one that’s waiting for her. Nova feels herself stutter over timelines, lost between what’s happened and what’s to come, and then it’s all drowned out as her husband moves closer. Din’s helmet rests against her forehead, anchoring her in place. Nova can feel the steel of the wall through the protective curtain of her hair—and it isn’t even half as strong as the man on his knees in front of her. She breathes, the cloud of air fogging up the bloodied visor, and then Din’s hand is leaving her, and Nova makes a disappointed noise, low in her throat like an animal. 

He chuckles. His laugh could launch a thousand birds out of the sky. “Need to give you something.” 

Nova rears back. “Nope.” 

Din laughs again. Her heart clenches against the sweet, sweet sound. “It’s not another bacta shot.” 

Nova’s eyes narrow. “Don’t know if I believe you,” she says. 

Din sighs. Din’s always sighing. But this time, it’s not out of exasperation. “Will you just—” 

“No needles,” Nova says. She’s trying to sound brave. She really is. But bravery left with the golden light of her lightsaber, and she has to really muster up the conviction. “Mean it.” 

“Novalise.” 

“Mm.” It’s noncommittal, that noise, her hands held up, braced against his pauldrons. “If you’re lying to me—” 

“Relax,” Din hisses, and for some reason, some untold signal in his voice, she does.

His hand isn’t in the pocket on his belt that was hiding the bacta. No, he’s reaching into a hidden one, tucked in the inner workings of his beskar, and the protest dies in her throat. Nova’s breath evaporates into the air around them. In his one, ungloved hand, Din is holding a ring. It’s silver, but lighter than the beskar he shines in, lighter than the beskar of his ring she’s worn proudly on her left hand since he first dropped to his knees in Nevarro. But in the middle, mercurial, shifting, is a marbled, swirling grey stone. It looks—alive. Almost like the Kyber that ignites her lightsaber, but not really. Almost like her mother’s pearls that hung around her neck, but not quite. It’s unlike anything Nova has ever seen before, and yet, it calls to her. It sings. Like calls to like. 

“Found this,” Din says gruffly, like he’s trying to keep emotion out of his voice, and Nova’s heart swells. “It’s for you.” 

She shakes her head imperceptibly, blinking up at him. “Where?” 

“I’ve almost lost you so many times.” It’s not an answer to her question. Nova doesn’t care. “I know we’ve been…” he swallows. “Fighting. Arguing. Like we haven’t… been on the same…wavelength.” It’s her word, coming out of Din’s mouth, and Nova’s never loved it more. “I’m sorry.” He clears his throat, and then, huskily: “I’m trying. I love you.”

“I love you,” she echoes, reaching out to touch him, to take the ring. Din moves, stacking it on top of her engagement ring, and it hisses into place. It swirls in front of her eyes, the metal cool to the touch, the stone a pool for her to fall into—swallowing. Consuming. It slots onto Nova’s finger like it was made for her. Like it’s been missing this whole time. It pulses. It glows. It’s obsidian and ivory. It’s silver and not. It is hers. It sings out to her. Nova responds.

“Do you like it?” Din cuts back in, slices through her reverie. His voice is so low, slung deep. Hungry. 

Fuck, Nova’s hungry, too. “Yes.” So much weight is thrown behind that one word. She swallows. Need is coursing through her veins, holding her heart hostage. “Come here.” 

“Nova—” 

“I know, and I don’t care,” she breathes, grabbing the back of his neck, anchoring him lower, closer. “Kiss me.” 

He is fighting an unspoken battle, her Mandalorian. Nova can hear his breath deepen, intensify, can feel the heat radiating off him like magma. “You—” 

“Kiss me,” she breathes, emboldened, brazen. Desire slams into her, an entire ocean. “Please.” She’ll beg. She’s not above begging. But it doesn’t matter, because Din curls his fingers underneath the rim of his helmet, pulling it clean off, and he blinks at her, brown eyes almost black. 

“Fuck it,” he snarls, and then his mouth, hot and wanting, is on hers.

This is selfish. His touch, molded against her skin—that’s selfish. Devouring hers in a dirty back alley, that’s selfish. Spending time, sweet precious time, with their bodies melded together like metal, when their friends are out there fighting—that’s selfish. Nova feels the darkness flood in, take over her body like a superbloom. She sighs out against the lock of Din’s mouth against her. 

“Din,” she whispers.

He stiffens like it takes all of his control, all that silver now rigid and unyielding. “What?” 

Nova looks up at him, wetting her lips with her tongue. He groans out, the sound choked in the low light of the alley, and want pulses again between her legs. Hungrily. Snarling. “Don’t take it easy on me.” 

His eyes are so dark. Maker, she could drown in them. Nova shudders, wanting to, needing to. “That’s not how this works.” He swallows, the sound thick. “Especially now.” 

She pushes at him, clawing her fingers into the untouched skin at the back of his neck. Din whimpers—full on, loudly—and a thrill runs through Nova’s entire body. Fire, sparked to life. “It is today.” 

He looks at her. “Nova—” 

“Fuck it away,” she breathes into the hollow of his open mouth. “Please. Please. You want me to beg? Fine, I’m begging. You want me on my knees? You’ll have to make me.” Din’s mouth falls open wider. Nova wants to shove her tongue into it, make his lips take away all of the pain. “Yeah, it hurts. It hurts.” And it does. But what’s a little charred flesh worth in battle against her Mandalorian? Nothing. “Make me ache. Fuck the pain away.” 

Din grips the back of her head, a halo of hair in his ungloved, unbloodied hand. There’s a metaphor in it, in the way he’s clutching at her like his unbecoming. Nova sighs into the space between them—just armor and skin, nothing more. 

“You don’t know what you’re asking.” 

Nova does not flinch. “Yes. I do.” 

She’s calling Din on his bluff. He’s holding himself back. Right now, it’s not Din she’s speaking to. She wants the monster underneath his skin, licking and pulsing like flames. It’s barely contained. It is snarling at her, screaming. He is a tar pit. He is blackened steel. He is all beskar, all blade. Nova knows what she’s asking.

She loves Din. But right now, she needs the Mandalorian.

When he breaks, when he crashes his mouth against hers, it’s not reassuring. It doesn’t taste like empathy, like sweetness. He’s not trying to take away the pain. Din’s doing exactly what she asked for. He’s going to fuck it all away. 

Din’s tongue, leaden, is heavy inside Nova’s mouth. It pulses, rolling over her own, desperate. Cloying. Needy. He is all teeth and bone. He growls—really, truly growls—and it’s not a mockery. It’s not anything but desire, coiled so deep it needs to strike. Like a pit viper. Like a rattlesnake. Like venom and honey. She wants to drink it down. 

“Novalise—”

“Tear me apart,” she enunciates, the words barely a whisper, already off on Corellia’s fetid wind. “I give you permission.” Then, louder, emboldened, for only him to hear: “No mercy.” 

Din’s mouth returns and leaves like a furious tide, biting down on her lips, cascading down her neck, licking tides to her collarbone, over and over. He is rhythmic in his domination. Unyielding. This is not the man she married. This is the Mandalorian she loved first. He takes instruction well, the weapon of a man in front of her. And then he takes control.

Din’s hands—cloying, desperate—rip at the seam of her pants. It burns so bright, his fingers wrenching her clothes away. Nova’s eyes are blackening at the edges, sweet, sweet sensation. “Don’t rip them,” she mewls, and his hand stills. Shame and need war inside of her, and Nova reels back against the metal wall. Her knees—all that’s left standing, at this point, the rest of her body slumped against Din’s metal one—shake on the cold ground.

“So bold,” he croons, and the hair on the back of Nova’s neck stands straight up. His hands dip lower, lower than her belt, low enough to hook around the waistband of her panties, and flame licks at the very core of her. “You’re not in charge,” he whispers, and every word is electric, a live wire, a lightning bolt. Nova isn’t cold, but she shivers. “You gave that up, sweet girl. You don’t get to make demands. But fuck, you sounds so good when you try.” 

“Still have—” she pants, “a mission to f-finish—” 

“Then shut your pretty mouth,” Din snarls, “and let me finish you first.”

That does it. Nova hums out as he digs low. His fingers are filthy. Not with blood or grime—no, not from the men he felled back on the impromptu Corellian battlefield. No, he kept his gloves on for that. But with her—slick, wet, wanting. Nova’s eyes roll back in her head as Din sinks two fingers inside of her, to the hilt, and curls. He presses, and she feels it building, the crushing crescendo of an orgasm, already, yes, already—but then there’s an absence of where his fingers once were, and her eyes open fully, eyebrows furrowed in frustration—

He’s sinking the same two fingers into his mouth. The moan he emits could fell a nation. An army. Nova’s not sure. She would die on the battlefield if this were her enemy, silver-clad and dangerous. Electric. She blinks at him, eyes half-lidded. “Oh,” she says, distantly, distantly because there’s something buzzing in her ears. “Oh—” 

“Taste so fucking good,” he grits out, and Nova shudders, going limp. And then his fingers are back inside of her. “Clench around me. Good girl.” He takes a fistful of her hair in the other bare hand and yanks back. Hard. Nova’s ears are still ringing. “Harder.” It’s rhapsodic, that voice. An echo chamber of filth shudders back at her. 

“Tell me,” she whispers. To cum is the rest of that sentence, but stars above, Nova can’t finish it. She’s limp. Undone. And all he’s done is touch her—and then Din’s fingers, that ecstasy, is gone again. “Fuck—” she cries, frustrated, and Din chuckles. The sound is so bright, so perfect, that it dulls the ache of his absence. A little. And then it floods back in and Nova grabs at his wrist. But it doesn’t budge. It trails up from the sucking seam of her pussy, wet with her own slick. 

“Stop leaving me,” she whines. 

Din chuckles again. Lower this time. It feels like a vibration. Nova hums, and then he’s gripping her face. Hard. Her lips pucker out as he clenches down on her cheeks. It hurts, pain singing out in the best way. “Open.” 

Nova tries to comply, she really does, but her mouth is being held captive by the massive plain of Din’s flexed fist. He shoves his fingers inside, wet and dripping. “This is how you taste,” he hisses, licking a line of it off the cleft of her split bottom lip. “Before you’ve even cum for me.” He clicks his tongue. Nova’s thighs clench together. It’s involuntary, truly. “Wanna taste how sweet you are when you have?” 

She stutters out a breath, lips puckered in a perfect O, and the way Din grins at her is sinful. Criminal. Dark and lecherous, if it were any other mouth wearing that smile, but he looks at her like he worships her, even now, and Nova’s heart flips. 

“Need you,” she manages, through the painful part of her mouth, “please—” 

“Who am I to deny my sweet girl,” Din breathes, “when she begs for me?” 

Nova can barely keep her eyes open. Din’s grip lessens, just a little. The other hand, previously anchoring her hip in place—which is likely going to be sporting purpled bruises tomorrow, but Nova doesn’t care—leaves the curve of her waist to shove something at her. It’s her shawl. Nova blinks at it. “What—?” 

“Cover your stomach,” Din says, brushing the mess of ringlets out of her face. “Don’t get it dirty.” 

“It’s—” Nova’s breath catches as he pushes her back against the wall, dragging her body up against the durasteel of the abandoned building they’re up against—fuck, she can’t think straight. “Not a wound anymore—” 

“Don’t care,” Din grits out, shoving it against her skin. Nova feels the pain of the contact, just a little. Faintly. Maker. She’s losing it. “No cover, no cock.” Hearing him say it so crudely sparks something bright and devastating in the pit of her stomach. “Don’t argue with me. You won’t win.” 

Nova nods. Din’s hand finds her chin again—still slick—and she sighs out into the air around them. 

“I’m going to fuck you now,” he rasps out. 

Nova looks down—he is still, so regrettably, clothed. She pouts. “Wanna see you.” 

Din grins again. Devilish. Dark. Her stomach curls. That softness, there just a minute ago, is gone. He is a blade, the pit of a man called into battle. “Then look down,” he simpers, and then his hand slips down to her throat, pushing just hard enough to make her beloved stars explode. 

Nova cries out into the open air, stifled by the warrior’s hand clenching around her airway. Just how she likes it. She tries to look down. To see his cock, thick and wanting, pierce her, cleave her in two. She wants to watch—really watch—to see how the Mandalorian moves inside of her—but Nova can’t. She’s trapped in the staccato rhythm of pleasure and pain, equally enticing. 

“Look at me.” 

Nova hears it, dully. She’s too far gone, already almost on the edge again. Din’s grunting, animalistic, and it’s the sweetest, sickest sound she’s ever heard. She is undone. This is sacrosanct. This is divine. She was standing on holy ground, and her Mandalorian is desecrating it. 

“Novalise.” Her name cuts through, and Nova abandons sweet disconnect to look him in the eye. Din’s not here right now. He is the version of himself that kills, that slaughters. She wants him. She needs him. “Look at me.” 

“Maker,” she manages, strangled, and Din hoists her higher against the wall to fuck into her harder, deeper, so much deeper, sheathing himself inside her like he would a blade into safety, except nothing about this feels safe. She’s craved danger before. But Nova has never craved danger more. 

“No,” Din snarls. “No Maker is here right now. No, cyar’ika. You pray to me.” 

Her orgasm rips through her—bluntly. Unyielding. Unfettered, like the pulse of her Mandalorian. He cries out, grunting, fingers curling in her hair. 

“Who do you belong to?” Din asks, and the sound is ringing from somewhere far, far away. Nova is a universe of exploding stars. She is slick and sweaty, dangling from the wall like an animal while the man in front of her rips her to shreds in the sweetest, holiest way. 

“Mmm,” Nova manages. She is gone. She is over in another galaxy, her body hanging limp in Din’s hands. “You.” 

He fists a hand in her hair, dragging her gaze up to his. “I’m not finished with you yet.” And—fuck—he’s not. He snaps his hips into hers. An unending rhythm. Time stops. There is nothing here—nothing on this plane of existence. There’s Din, and there’s Nova, and there’s the want, the heavy thrum of sex, desire pumping amorphous, silty blood through their veins. This is a darkened star, this is the only thing in the world. The divine feeling of her Mandalorian, fucking with abandon, bisecting her. Din tips Nova over the edge, once, twice, three more times. She is a mewling, destroyed mess. 

“Mine,” Din is whispering. Chanting. Then, in Mando’a: “ibac’ner.” 

It’s a prayer. Or something close to it. Nova’s eyes open, watching her Mandalorian’s face as he comes undone. 

“Yours,” she whispers, into the open hollow of his mouth, and then everything contracts. He slams into her, once, twice, three times—and then he’s undone, spurting into her, hot and wet and warm, and Nova feels something settle and crack inside of her all at once. She can hear his heartbeat. Through the armor. Through everything, They stay there, panting, foreheads locked together, and when Din pulls out of her, Nova mourns. He licks his lips as he tucks his cock back in his pants. He wipes the cum leaking out of her away with his bare hands. Nova watches, half-lidded, as he lifts his fingers to her mouth. Nova takes it like communion. She feels wrecked. A ship hurled against rock. Undone. And fortified. That sweet, sweet darkness licks at her edges. 

“What do you taste?” His voice is low. Guttural. Whatever Din let out of its cage is not fully back in. 

Nova hums, licking it off her lips. “You.” 

He smiles, wicked and low, before pulling his helmet back over his head. “Not quite.” Then, modulated, voice duo-toned, flickering like the Darksaber, double-sided like the vessel of his armor and the stature of the man within it, with one finger hooked under her chin: “Us.” 

Nova doesn’t have time to contemplate what that means. Two things happen.

One: She just feels the vantablack obsidian curling low in her stomach—seeping back in. 

Two: The hologram in Din’s hands flares to life. 

*

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I HOPE YOU LOVED IT!! the filth was FILTHY this time around lmao, but it was such an exciting chapter to write! please let me know what you think <3

CHAPTER 8 WILL BE UP AT 7:30 PM EST ON MARCH 9TH!

xoxo, amelie

[beardedjoel]

Part One of the Signs of a Lifetime Series

Pairing: Din Djarin x OC / fem!Reader

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: smut, mild violence, language

A/N: i wasn’t sure about posting this but I’ve been working on this OC nonstop for ages now and love her dearly, so I hope you enjoy her story! 

entire story is posted on AO3 if you wanna show me some love there!

Summary:

Bounty hunter Alya Kesyk was completely unprepared for the day she met the Mandalorian. She wasn’t looking to make any new friends, let alone change the entire landscape of her life going forward.

As a loner for the last decade, the last thing she expects is to meet someone who captivates her like this, and eventually changes her for the better.

Story begins pre-season one and may continue into the main story of the show.

Alya Kesyk was completely unprepared for the day she met the Mandalorian. She wasn’t looking to make any new friends, let alone change the entire landscape of her life going forward. It was just another day on the job for her as she swirled the dark liquid in her glass and peered around the moderately crowded cantina she was sitting in. The main bartop may not be the most inconspicuous place to be seated with plenty of more private booths lining the walls and corners of the room, but it gave her the best view of her surroundings. Over the years she had mastered the look of someone simultaneously not suspicious and not to be fucked with, which typically led to her remaining unbothered by other patrons when she was on a job. The ones that tested those waters with her found out quickly that they had made the wrong choice.

Alya took a sip of her drink as the main doors of the tavern slid open. She felt a bit of the cooler air from outside breeze past her as she turned with a deliberately passé look to see who had entered. Her facade almost faltered as she beheld the man covered completely in armor that entered. She could have sworn that the room quieted at the sight, even stilled a bit with new tension. A Mandalorian .

She wasn’t sure if this meant trouble just yet, but Alya turned her attention away from the door while keeping her ears open. The last thing she needed was any kind of scene caused by some drunk, aggressive asshole who might try to pick a fight with a Mandalorian and mess up her chances of finishing this job. She had been biding her time and gathering any last intel or movements on her quarry before moving in on him, and would be damned if anybody screwed this up for her.

The Mandalorian slowly sauntered up towards the bar, seemingly unfazed by the extra attention placed on him as he had entered the room. Alya figured that he was used to it by now - Mandalorians weren’t the most common sight after all, and they were perceived as dangerous to the average person. They were raised to be fighters, warriors, and absolutely not to be messed with. Even she found herself slightly unnerved by the genuine strength radiating off of him, but it was met with equal intrigue about who he was. He had on a shiny, pure beskar helmet that looked rather new compared to his other armor pieces - scratched up mismatched red-brown plates covering the rest of him. The Mandalorian seated himself with just one bar stool between them, and Alya felt her hair stand up slightly when her instincts told her something was off. No, not off, just… electric . The prickling beginning in her nerves was interrupted when the Mandalorian suddenly inclined his helmeted head towards her and spoke.

“You a local?” he said, his voice modulated to hell but with a quality that Alya instantly found herself attracted to. Focus , she hissed to herself in her mind.

“Depends on who wants to know,” she replied with a casual sip of her drink and a slight smirk. The alcohol warmed her throat, giving her that little bit of extra courage to sass this dangerous man with at least two weapons visible that she could count. She realized her suspicions upon first seeing him were correct and he was looking for intel on the exact bounty she was here to hunt.

She could have sworn she heard an exasperated scoff through his modulator. “Me” he said flatly. Alya silently praised herself that she had passed off looking like enough of a local for him to even ask, not that she had ever doubted herself. Something about him filled her with an instinct to trust, so she decided to go against everything she typically stood for on this strange whim that was stirring within her.

“I’m not local, but I sense we might have… mutual interests here” Alya peered over at him and the Mandalorian’s head seemed to look over at her more quickly than he had been moving before. It was impossible to read him through the helmet, but she sensed he was taken aback.

“Oh? And just what exactly do you think that would be?” he said while turning his body more fully towards Alya.

She discreetly pulled the bounty puck out of her pocket to show him and then slipped it right back in a few moments later, looking back up at her new companion with searching eyes. He made a sort of amused chuckle noise through the modulator in response but didn’t say anything.

“If my assumption that you’re a Guild member as well is correct, which I know it is, then I have a proposition for you.” Alya tried to keep her tone steady, detached but she felt her heart rate pick up a little.

“I’m listening,” Mando leaned even closer to her. She could see her reflection a bit better in the helmet and smoothed the few loose strands of her pulled back red hair behind her ears slightly.

“I’m thinking of a collaboration of sorts. Don’t ask me why. This is a high profile bounty which means good money for me, and not to mention I was here first and should be taking one hundred percent of the reward, but for some reason I find myself feeling generous today.” Alya held out her hands, palms open, and shrugged slightly. Something had absolutely struck her senseless about this mysterious man, and maybe her sudden urge to share a bounty for fuck’s sake was just to keep him around a bit longer. “You help me wrangle this guy up, we split the bounty, and then neither one of us leaves here empty handed.”

She watched Mando ponder for several moments, and began to worry she had said the wrong thing, pissed off the wrong asshole today. She had a bad habit of doing that, didn’t she, she wondered to herself.

“Okay.”

Alya quickly glanced up at where she assumed his eyes would be under the helmet and felt the corner of her mouth turn up slightly. “It’s a deal, then” she said, holding out her hand. She was surprised when Mando took it and shook her hand, her fingertips poking out of her fingerless leather gloves touched his gloved hands. While there was no skin to skin contact she found it electrifying all the same.

“Alright, tell me what you've got, we can compare notes,” Mando implored her, folding his hands together.

“The quarry has been hiding out here on Canto Bright long enough to actually secure a job somehow. And you’ll never guess where he works.”

The small chuckle came through the modulator again, quickly becoming music to Alya’s ears. “So you know the quarry works here, and you’re just… drinking at the bar?”

Now it was Alya’s turn to laugh. “Even bounty hunters deserve a break, don’t we? I’m actually scoping the place out instead of going in guns blazing, but maybe that’s not your personal style?” she teased back.

“Hmm. Fair enough,” he replied, crossing his arms. “So, how did you know?”

“Know what?” Alya raised her eyebrow slightly, looking at him.

“What I was here for. That I’m with the Guild.”

Alya smirked slightly. “I… had a feeling.”

“You’re just that smart, huh?” The Mandalorian’s voice sounded amused as he taunted her.

“Actually, yes.” Alya crossed her arms indignantly. “This isn’t exactly my first trip around the galaxy, y’know. It’s not every day that a Mandalorian just walks into the cantina where you happen to be getting a quarry asking questions, so I put the pieces together.”

“I can see that… clever girl,” he replied with a tantalizing tone that made Alya’s hair on the back of her neck stand up slightly. He seemed to have leaned closer to her as she was speaking, and she studied him carefully, taking in all the details of his armor. She simply raised her eyebrows, looking at him confidently.

“Are we gonna catch this guy, or what?” Alya pressed, and Mando laughed heartily at her aggressiveness.

After giving themselves another ten minutes to quickly make their plan, and for Alya to finish her drink, they were standing up from the bar and slowly walking towards the door to the tavern’s kitchen. Alya felt unbelievably powerful walking next to this mass of metal armor, having all the eyes in the room darting between the two of them and the patrons likely wondering what they were up to. They reached the door and stood on either side of it, holding off for a moment. Alya gave a slight nod to the Mandalorian to signal she was ready, and he returned it before they burst through the door together, blasters out.

The quarry knew within an instant, had likely been looking over his shoulder for weeks just waiting for this to happen. He turned and ran, his sudden momentum causing him to push metal bowls and utensils off the counters, falling with a loud clang that momentarily disarmed Alya. She snapped out of it quickly and realized he was likely heading for some employee entrance to escape. The Mandalorian called out after him and began sprinting, Alya following closely behind. Damn, he was fast, she thought, watching with amazement at his graceful speed despite all that heavy armor.

The chase went on longer than some Alya had encountered with her quarries as they weaved through a few streets and narrowly avoided groups of people jumping out of their way, but he was no match with both her and Mando chasing after him. She pushed her body, feeling the familiar pump of her legs and steady breaths she had done so many times in her self-training, and managed to push ahead of the Mandalorian at the last second and tackle the bounty to the ground, placing her thighs on either side of his body and holding his arms down. Mando halted in front of them with his blaster trained and ready to shoot. While his weapon was pointed at the quarry, he seemed to be staring at her for a few extra moments under that helmet before turning his attention back to the work at hand. She felt a small shiver at the prospect of his eyes lingering on her that she tried to quickly ignore.

“You just had to choose the hard way, didn’t you?” Alya said, sighing hard, as Mando handed her a pair of cuffs. She quickly slapped them onto the squirming man underneath her and stood up, stepping over him before letting Mando pull the bounty to his feet. Their catch made the usual grumbles at attempting to make a deal with them, offering them more than the bounty was worth, and other bullshit that they’d both heard so many times they lost count. Mando shoved him forward and they began their walk back to their ships.

Alya felt the usual high that came after chasing and catching a quarry, and having someone who understood the work by her side the entire time had been unexpectedly fun. She was used to working alone, and had been for almost ten years now, but found herself considering the idea of a partner in a positive light for the first time in a long time. Feeling self conscious, she tried to suppress her smile since she couldn't read the Mandalorian’s mood at all under his helmet.

"If you try anything --" they both started to say to the bounty at the same time, and then quickly looked at each other. Alya let out a laugh, and joked, "You stole my line.”

"I could say the same thing.” Mando put his free hand on his hip, holding onto the bounty with the other.

"Alright, so which one of us is turning the quarry in?" Alya pondered for a moment before adding, "Or we could head there together? Might make things less complicated."

"I can go. I have to make a drop anyway," Mando offered, seeming to ignore her suggestion of going there as a team.

They were mostly silent with Alya feeling a bundle of nerves, much to her dismay, as they brought the quarry the rest of the way up to Mando's ship - a Razor Crest . So very him, she thought fondly. She tried not to cringe as he got frozen in carbonite, but was impressed that Mando had the technology as she hadn’t even thought to look into that for her own ship. Her bounties had to ride along in a small holding cell and typically annoyed the hell out of her until she could turn them in.

As they stood somewhat awkwardly outside of Mando’s ship afterwards, Alya suddenly realized she had no idea how it would even work to split the bounty, since Mando was the one to take him on his ship. She also noticed at that same moment she didn’t like the idea of them splitting up so soon, feeling her heart sink slightly at the notion of it.

"So take him to Nevarro, get the credits, and have him leave half for me next time I'm there to collect from Greef?" Alya confirmed with the Mandalorian, trying to hide the disappointment from her voice. Maybe it had been taking it too far to think he would consider continuing on together. She tried to remind herself that she’d worked more than well enough on her own for years.

The Mandalorian nodded his head in response. “You trust me not to take it all for myself?” His tone sounded light, but he had a good point considering they had just met a few hours earlier.

“Should I have a reason not to?” Alya raised her eyebrows, genuinely surprised by his returning her sarcastic energy. This was not the impression of Mandalorians she’d gathered from all the things she’d heard about their culture.

“I’m a man of my word. Don’t worry,” he said with conviction, putting Alya at ease. She hadn’t truly thought about it until he brought it up - she had put an inherent trust in him, which she almost never did with anyone. How strange it felt to do that so automatically with Mando, she thought to herself.

"Good.” She bit her lip slightly, uneasy at the words she knew were about to come out of her mouth. “I know it was unconventional, but I did enjoy this for a change of pace. Having a... teammate, or partner, or whatever the hell." Mando remained silent, so she went on, feeling like she may be daring just a bit too much to say what she was thinking, but figured to hell with it. She probably had a low chance of seeing this guy again with the entire galaxy out there.

"I can say I do hope we run into each other again sometime." Alya offered a half smile his way. She had no idea what was driving her to be so open, so bold with this virtual stranger, but she tended to follow her gut most of the time, and this was no exception.

After a few more moments of silence, Mando answered, "Me too.” She smiled in return, hoping he was doing the same underneath that helmet. “You’re a hell of a bounty hunter, freckles. It’s not every day I find another Guild member at the same… level of expertise as me,” he added a moment later.

“Oh really? That full of ourselves, are we?” She put a hand on her hip and tilted her head. She actively tried to forget the nickname for her he had just thrown out there like it was a completely normal, everyday experience between the two of them.

“No, I…” he stammered for a moment, “I just meant… more about you. You were impressive out there.”

“Don’t worry, Mando, I was just fucking with you.” Alya said, giving him a quick wink. He let out a small, relieved laugh and Alya felt her heart skip a beat at the sound. She silently cursed herself - she had a hard and fast rule not to get attached to anyone or anything. Ever. And yet...

"Let me, uh, walk you to your ship," Mando seemed to blurt out, sounding as uncomfortable as she had heard him thus far.

"Okay, yeah." Alya said, filling him in on what landing bay her ship was in as they set off.

They walked in silence for a few moments, their hands dangerously close. Alya wasn't sure if it was just in her head, or if the tension between them was palpable to him too.

"Do you know where you're heading after making this drop?" Alya asked into the silence.

"Likely just some more Guild business. Guess I’ll see what comes up.”

He hadn't asked her about her next whereabouts and seemed very keen on them not dropping this quarry together so she finally accepted that he definitely didn't want any company going forward. It was probably just as well, she thought.

"Through here, it'll be quicker," Mando steered them into an alleyway to the right of them, touching her arm in the process. A slight buzzing went through Alya's head and she couldn't be sure if it was still the alcohol from earlier tonight or the feel of his glove on her bare forearm. She took a small breath to steady herself and followed his lead down the alley. As much as it made her cringe, her desperation to know her new companion better, to see more of him was taking over. One last shot , she thought, to try and see him again sometime.

"Uh look, if you don't want any company to drop the quarry, then maybe -" Alya started, but was cut off when Mando suddenly whirled towards her, backing her into the nearest wall behind her. His large, powerful form came at her so fast that she felt unsteady on her feet for a moment, looking up at him with wide eyes.

"And what is it that you want?" his modulated voice was lower, filled with something new, something more that she hadn't heard yet. Desire? His body pushed closer to hers and she realized she had forgotten how to breathe normally.

"I - I -" she struggled to form words, her head spinning. His sudden change in demeanor and tone had shaken her typically calm and collected mask. She was reeling - just a moment ago, he’d seemed like he never wanted to see her again, and now he was doing this? She simply looked up at him, blinking, trying to convey with her eyes and expression what she couldn't with words. Him. She wanted him.

He seemed to read it loud and clear, because the next thing she knew, his entire body was against hers, and he quickly pulled off his gloves before reaching up to grab the back of her head and taking a handful of hair. He used his other hand to tilt her head up so that she was looking where Alya assumed his eyes were under the helmet.

"Hmm? Is this what you want?" Mando pulled slightly on the hair he was holding and then reached the other hand to begin toying with her belt.

Alya felt her senses come back to her enough to hastily breathe out a yes. Mando quickly started undoing the buckle on Alya's pants, and taking his lead she reached for his as well. He stopped abruptly and grabbed her wrist, stopping her, and shook his head.

"No. Just you.” He said in a low voice. Alya nodded slightly, still in complete shock, her breath picking up as he continued undoing her belt and unbuttoned her pants. Her breathing hitched as he reached his hand under her waistband, sliding it down.

"Fuck," she said through gritted teeth as he moved his hand lower. She knew he could feel how wet she had already been because of him, and he made a satisfied noise at that fact as his fingers slid past her clit and felt it. Alya reached up and gripped the back of his neck and shoulders, wishing more than anything this damn helmet wasn't between them but she didn't dare try pulling it off.

He started stroking her clit slowly at first, but quickly increased the intensity as Alya let out a small moan. She grabbed at anything she could on him, finding his armor in the way but she clung onto it nonetheless.

"Do you have any idea how fucking sexy you were back there?” He murmured close to her ear, “I couldn’t wait to get you alone.”

“You have me,” she whispered through her panting as she somehow moved her body even closer to him with the little space that was left. Mando simply made a noise of what she assumed was approval as he slipped his fingers inside her, continuing to expertly circle her clit as he pushed the other fingers in and out of her at the most perfect, toe-curling rhythm.

“Maker, you feel so good,” he said, and she could hear his breathing quickening through the modulator. The fact that he seemed just as turned on by this nearly sent Alya over the edge. He leaned his head closer to her neck, trying to get as close as possible. “So good…” he murmured again, in her ear this time.

For a few moments there were just panting breaths between the two of them, Alya’s eyes half closed with desire. She could already feel the pleasure building in her core at just how fucking incredible his fingers felt, and he snaked his free hand down through her hair, trailing her back, and finally landing on her ass. He gave a short groan as he squeezed her ass, his body pressed so close there was barely room for his hand in between them.

Alya suddenly felt pleasure bursting through her, and while she had been trying to keep quiet in this very public alley, her moaning and panting were coming out at a completely uncontrollable volume. She tried to reach a free hand to cover her mouth or bite down on her fist, but Mando reached her face first with his and cupped the side of her cheek. He pulled his head back from where it was buried close to the side of her head and used his hand to tilt her head up, intently watching the waves of pleasure come over her face. He continued to plunge his fingers into her, letting her ride out her climax onto his hand. Alya felt her knees go weak as she came down from the height of her orgasm and tipped her head back against the wall behind her. Mando still had her head in his hand and she leaned her face into it, breathing heavily.

“Beautiful girl,” he said quietly, stroking her cheek, and she thought she could almost feel his eyes on her through the helmet, taking in the slight sheen of sweat on her face and her disheveled hair. He pulled his hand out from her pants and began to gently rebutton them and work on her belt when a loud beep interrupted them.

“Wh-“ Alya began to ask, still half delirious, and she heard Mando let out an exasperated sigh.

“Shit, it’s my comm signal, I set it up to alert me if anything or anyone is getting suspiciously close to my ship. And on a planet like this I don’t think that can be good news,” Mando explained. Alya felt her heart sink, but she nodded and gave a convincing half smile.

“You know I get it. How valuable our ships are to us. Go,” she said, inclining her head in the direction they’d come from.

“I… I’ll make it up to you,” he said, slowly backing his way through the alley, still facing her.

“I know,” Alya said, watching as he reached the street off the alleyway and reluctantly turned and started walking out of sight.

She stood, stunned for several moments, taking a few deep breaths and trying to understand the events of the evening. The only thing clear to her right now was that she didn’t think her life could be the same again now that he had entered it.

[ceapa-mica]

GEHAT'IK BE ALIIT | Chapter 24

{cross-posted on ao3} {masterlist}

<- previous chapter

Pairing: Din Djarin x Original Female Character

Warnings: Angst, Fluff, Grogu being a public menace

Words: 5758

Summary: Visiting Din's homeworld to celebrate Life Day becomes an emotional roller coaster for Din and Elora.

a/n: Welcome back! You're probably wondering what returning to the place of his trauma will be like for Din. There will be so many emotions! Also this is the official Christmas chapter for my fic (published in September lol) If you're reading this during the holidays I wish you Merry Christmas or whatever else you celebrate.

"This is Vetina City spaceport tower one, state your business, Razor Crest."

Din got goosebumps at the transmission, but didn't let his nervousness get a hold of him.

"We are here for the Life Day celebrations."

"You have permission to land in bay 5-C. Thank you."

Din and Elora exchanged glances. Even Grogu had picked up on his father figure's feelings, causing him to squirm in Elora's hold.

"Relax, little one. We have not yet landed." she cooed in a soothing voice.

When Vetina City came into sight, Din was speechless. The ruins of the town he used to live in wasreplaced by a bustling city with a large spaceport. Even from afar you could see the many people bustling in the streets.

"It's so… different from what I remember."

Bay 5-C wasn't hard to find, and as the Crest hit the ground, Din didn't move. Elora put a reassuring hand on his arm under his pauldron where she knew he could feel her touch.

"We can still leave. It's all up to you." she reminded him.

Din considered it for a moment, then he stood and tried to look confident. Elora and Grogu both sensed that quite the opposite was the case.

"Now that we're here, I think we should at least take a look around. This place has changed a lot, so we can get our bearings."

Down in the hull, Elora took her gray Jawa cloak and her satchel bag. Arfour was beeping, excited to join them again. Meanwhile Din had left for the 'fresher. He had removed his helmet and stared at his reflection for several minutes.

Elora patiently waited for him, but Grogu on the other hand didn't want to wait any longer. He wanted to run around and explore. He squirmed impatiently in Elora's arm and was on the verge of throwing a tantrum when Din came out of the fresher.

"Are we good to go?" Elora asked. As a simple response he took her hand and opened the hatch. Followed by Arfour they set foot on Din's homeworld. It resembled Nevarro in some way. At least the soil, as it was a similar shade of gray. The scent of fried food lingered in the air, and as they left the spaceport for the bustling streets, there were colorful decorative lights on the flat roofed houses, the market stalls, trees and lanterns.

"I heard people put those everywhere for Life Day." Din said, noticing Elora's astonished gaze. He chuckled at the childlike wonder in her eyes, his hand still in hers. Grogu let out a joyful squeal as well, making attempts to climb over on Arfour's flat top, and Elora let him.

"Stay close, Arfour."

The droid whistled in agreement and followed them closely as they strolled through the streets. There were so many vendors, some were selling fabrics, little trinkets, Life tree orbs, and of course, all kinds of foods. Roasted meat, even stews and many different pastries. Elora knew to keep an eye on the always hungry child who looked displeased at the attention he got from Elora and Din with all the food around. The moment Grogu tried to take a particularly delicious looking pastry from a stall via the force, Din had quickly intervened and took the child into his arms, holding him close to his chest.

"Having one thief on the team is enough, don't you think, you little womp rat?" Grogu frowned, making his forehead look even wrinklier than it already did. "Don't be upset, I will buy you something sweet later. Let's take a look around first, then we decide what we wanna eat." That's when Din noticed that Elora had let go of his hand. She was nowhere to be seen. Fortunately, the HUD inside his helmet wasn't just useful for bounty hunting, but for tracking down wayward loved ones who have a talent for getting into trouble. It took him barely a minute to find Elora, who was standing at a stall. She had laid eyes on an object she examined with a thoughtful look in her eyes.

"It's made out of beskar alloy, very high quality." the Togruta vendor said.

"Did you find something?" Din asked, looking at the colorful metal figure Elora held in her hands. It showed a Jedi and a Mandalorian - the Jedi pointing their lightsaber at the armored warrior who responded using their flamethrower.

"It's a rarity, the price is 3.500 credits. You won't find anything of finer quality on the entire market, that I assure you."

"He says it's made from beskar alloy." Elora added, causing Din to huff in disbelief.

"I'm Mandalorian, and I can tell the difference between common durasteel alloy and beskar alloy. And this…" He took the statue and hit it against his vambrace, the collision of the metals creating a dull sound. "...this is definitely not beskar alloy." He then hit his chest plate with his vambrace, the collision causing a loud bright sound resembling a bell. "This is what beskar on beskar sounds like. Think about it next time you try to scam tourists out of their money." The vendor was at a loss for words, looking around to estimate how many people had witnessed this moment of pure shame.

Meanwhile Din, Elora and Grogu went on their way. Elora was blushing and looked uncomfortable, something Din noticed immediately. "You alright?" Elora put on a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "I can tell when you're pretending. So what is it?"

"Argh! I'm just frustrated. I feel humiliated is all. Not by you, by that son of a bantha vendor. I should be able to recognize beskar, or anything of value really. When someone scams a Jawa out of credits, parts or whatever, it can ruin your reputation within the tribe. In my culture we get taught how to trade from a very young age. We learn what's valuable and what isn't, I should have known this was durasteel alloy. It was just so polished and shiny, looking like my beskar alloy lightsaber hilt. I would have fallen for it if you hadn't intervened."

"It looked real, Elora. You can only figure it out with a well trained eye and hitting the material against actual beskar. Next time someone claims to sell a beskar object, you know what to do." Din hated the sad look in Elora's eyes and tried to distract her, leading her to a town square where a choir with a little orchestra in blue uniforms was singing Life Day songs. 

Grogu looked interested in the direction of the two chindinkalu flute players. Din put him back on Arfour's top, the droid rolling closer to the orchestra. Grogu clapped his little hands, cheering the musicians on. At the same time Din took Elora's hand. "I'm really not good at this but…can I have this dance, my lady?"

Elora tried to hold back her laughter. "I don't think you've spoken to me in that formal tone before, sir." Din blushed under his helmet. "In case you don't remember, on Naboo I had to dance with this annoying noble, his feet probably still haven't recovered from it."

Din chuckled at the memory. "He got what he deserved. Step on my feet as often as you like, it won't make me love you any less, mesh'la."

"You're being quite a flirt today, Din Djarin." They began to sway to the music together, not caring how the couples around them danced. They found their own rhythm and only had eyes for each other, and occasionally for Grogu, who was still gleefully watching the orchestra.

"You know what I don't understand? Why do paintings and statues always portray Mandalorians and Jedi fighting each other? Clearly the times have changed. Look at us -" She accidentally stepped on his left foot.  "Sorry…"

"They are portrayed fighting because the Jedi stepped on the Mandalorian's toes while dancing." Din chuckled, then his voice turned serious with a gentle undertone. "Our cultures have fought each other for thousands of years. Do you remember what Paz said? That Mandalorians and Jedi could never -" He accidentally stepped on Elora's toes. "Sorry I- um… Well, our cultures are polar opposites. If we should choose to spend our life together at some point, there would certainly be people, even friends, who wouldn't agree with our connection."

"So far my family is just looking forward to a wedding. Dank farrik, I assume you've never been to a Jawa wedding, no?"

"I can't say that I have."

"Jawa weddings are huge. Especially since I'm the daughter of the chief. When two Jawas get married, the two tribes come together for the ceremony. Weddings are a way to strengthen connections with other tribes. One Jawa wedding I attended took three days, believe it or not."

"Our cultures are very different indeed… A Mandalorian wedding ceremony is just the couple, alone, speaking the wedding vows to each other. There's no feast, nothing special, only that we remove our helmets for our spouse for the first time. Spouses and offspring are the only living beings allowed to see each other's faces in private. This is the Way." Din explained.

"I know we only let my family believe we're engaged right now, but could you imagine getting actually engaged to me in the future?"

The look in Elora's eyes was so hopeful, it made Din's heart swell.

"There's no such thing as engagement in my culture, just the marriage vows. And… despite all odds… I can imagine making you my riduur one day."

"Riduur means wife?"

"It means spouse or romantic partner, yes. Do you know that Life Day marks one year since we first met? I remember the bounty before Grogu, he mentioned Life Day. Then I went to Arvala 7 and found you and the kid."

Elora couldn't believe it was one year already since she had left her tribe for the first time to find blood relatives. It felt like it had just been yesterday. So much had changed in just one year. She had to admit it had been the best year of her life so far. She finally found love, she knew her birth mother was still alive and had better control over her force powers than ever before. Everything had changed. She went from hating Mandalorians to being unable to imagine a life without Din by her side. They were on Aq Vetina together - a place that meant so much to Din - celebrating the little family the four of them, Arfour included, had become.

"You truly changed my life, Din. We've been through so much and-" A sudden scream tore through the music, causing it abruptly to stop. It was one of the chindinkalu flute players.

"Grogu!" Din yelled, rapidly approaching the musician. Grogu had force jumped onto her shoulder out of curiosity, scaring the shit out of her.

"A green rat! Somebody take that thing back where it came from or so help me-" she yelled. Grogu showed no fear, trying to reach the mouthpiece of the instrument before Din grabbed him.

"I'm sorry, Miss! He's still a kid, I-"

"You're sorry?! That thing tried to bite me!"

"He did not! He wanted to play your instrument." Elora explained, focusing on the fear the woman felt, and sending calming vibes through the force at her. She instantly calmed down.

The incident had caused a small crowd of people to gather around them. Too much attention was never a good thing, especially when you wore beskar armor, were force sensitive and on top of that on the Empire's most wanted list. Din and Elora knew that and left the scene, walking over the market in quick steps until the town square was out of sight. Din took a weary look around, but nobody paid more attention to him than usual. He was used to the looks he got for his armor. After he deemed the situation safe, they went to a food stall that offered ronto wraps and salad bowls. Elora looked for a table to sit. Din returned with two plates of ronto wraps. Instead of ronto sausage the wraps contained ronto gyro, and it tasted as good as it smelled. Elora admired the way Din's armor reflected the rays of the evening sun while she ate and she thought about how annoying it had to be to never be able to eat with others. Din leaned back in his chair, looking content, Grogu took a particular liking to the meat, and Arfour was watching the passersby.

"I- I have something for you, cyar'ika. I know Life Day is tomorrow, but I wanna give this to you now." Din said with a softness in his voice, as the last bite of her dinner disappeared in Elora's mouth. He opened his satchel bag and took out a small red box. She opened it with bright eyes, and gaped at the pretty golden bracelet with multiple charms on it. One being a tiny purple crystal, looking like a small version of the one in her lightsaber. Another charm looked like the middle of Din's chest plate. He noticed how her eyes went to that part of his armor.

"It’s called the kar'ta beskar, which means beskar heart. And you, cyare, have my heart."

"Where did you get all those particular charms?!" Elora looked around to find the market stall that was selling those.

"The bracelet itself I bought on Naboo back in the day. Whenever we went to markets, I've been looking for charms to add. The beskar heart I bought in Kyrimorut. Today I found the last one."

The bracelet had five charms. The remaining three were a rusty little bolt, a bead of jade in the same shade of green as Grogu and a very shiny mythosaur skull.

"The bolt is supposed to signify your tribe, the jade signifies the bond you have with Grogu, and the shiny mythosaur skull the Armorer made for you as thanks for helping to successfully relocate the covert."

Elora stared at Din, completely at a loss for words. As much as she hated crying in front of others, tears welled in her eyes. Grogu cooed sadly, obviously not understanding why she was suddenly crying. Din was such a thoughtful person, he made her feel seen, made her feel loved, both physically and emotionally. Her heart truly felt like it could burst out of happiness, and the featherlight feeling in her tummy had increased tenfold.

"I feel bad because I have no gift for you."

"There's no bigger gift than having you for a girlfriend."

"Didn't you say earlier that you can imagine making me your wife one day?" Elora asked with her usual cheeky smile while putting on the bracelet. Din reached out and wiped the remaining tears off her cheeks with his thumbs.

"I promise you I will. There's something I wanna show you. All of you."

The sun had set and they continued their stroll around the Life Day market. At the cobblestone plaza where the town hall was located stood a large tree decorated with colorful lights and orbs. It looked simply magical. Grogu squealed joyfully and jumped off Arfour's top, waddling towards the tree. He was so tiny compared to it. Elora and Din laughed at the child's curiosity. There were some kids at the plaza playing ball, distracting Grogu from the enormous tree. Before the boy could run off to Maker knows where, Din had picked him up.

"How did you know the tree was there?" Elora asked.

"The food vendor saw Grogu and mentioned the Life Day tree and something else. It will be a surprise."

"Another surprise?!"

Din nodded. "Trust me, I know the perfect place for this one." He put his arms tightly around her waist.

"What the-" Before Elora could speak any further, Din had activated his jetpack, zooming off to a nearby flat rooftop of a building that was higher than the tree on the plaza. Arfour used his thrusters to follow them.

The view of the city was incredible. The decorations, the lights, the many different scents coming from the market, it was more than Din could have imagined, but to his disappointment, it didn't feel like a home anymore. This bustling city had once been a small town with simple people and without a spaceport. He could tell most people down on those streets weren't born on Aq Vetina. He wasn't sure if all those changes made it easier for him to find closure or not.

"Okay why did you take us up here? Don't get me wrong, the view is fantastic, but I have a feeling Grogu is craving a dessert and-" Din raised his hand and she paused.

"Just wait for it."

Elora didn't understand the sudden secrecy. What were they waiting for?

Suddenly there was a whistling sound and in the next second the sky above lit up in the most beautiful colors. Grogu winced at the sounds of the firework, but looked up in wonder, same as Elora. Neither of them had ever seen fireworks before. Even Arfour bleeped at the spectacle in wonder. As the colors lit up the night sky, Din's gaze rested on Elora and Grogu. If there was anything he enjoyed watching more than the fireworks, it was their reaction. He knew it was a moment both of them would never forget. Elora felt his eyes on her and turned around, wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing his helmet where his mouth would be.

"I love you, Din. Everything you do for me - for us… How are you feeling by the way?"

"I'm fine. Life Day is about family, and there's no better way to honor my parents than being happy. That's probably what they would want me to be. Making Life Day unforgettable for you and Grogu makes me happy. And I love you too, cyar'ika."

They were holding each other and looked up at the fireworks, with an occasional glance to Grogu who was mesmerized by the beauty. It was when he started to cough due to the smoke in the air that Din and Elora let go of each other.

"We should find a place to sleep. As much as I love the Crest, a holiday is special. We should celebrate it somewhere festive." Din suggested and took them back down to the streets, where he started looking for lodging.

He was distracted for a moment, asking a vendor where they could find a place to sleep. Elora took that as a chance to walk off as she noticed a stall selling melee weapons.

"There's a bed and breakfast at the-" Din paused and his eyes landed on Arfour. Elora and Grogu had disappeared. He was about to use his HUD again to find them, when there was a commotion a few stalls to his right.

"Thief! Somebody stop this woman!"

He recognized Elora's red hair immediately from afar and groaned in frustration. "I knew this was gonna happen at some point. Come on, droid."

Din and Arfour followed Elora's distinctive red hair through the crowds. He was surprised how fast of a runner she could be, and he had a feeling it had something to do with her force sensitivity. If there had been someone trying to catch her, she had already outrun them.

At a young age Elora had learned how to escape pursuers. She knew she had to hide from their sight, which meant she had to get off this market. So she took a turn into the next alley. It was dirty and smelled of a mix of mud and urine. Out of breath she checked on Grogu, who was giggling, amused by the situation. He held a little muffin in his hand he was nibbling on.

"I hope you learned an important lesson today, kid. When you steal, try not to get caught."

His ears flopped at her words and the sad look in his eyes made her heart melt, she couldn't be mad at him.

"There you are…" Din had caught up to them, a little out of breath. "I told you stealing could get you into trouble." he scolded Elora, who couldn't hold back a cheeky smile.

"You did, but I think you forgot to tell him." She pointed at Grogu, stains of blue buttercream on his mouth and nose. Din huffed in disbelief and let out an exasperated sigh. "You're being a bad influence, cyar'ika."

"Aww I take that as a compliment." she responded in a tone dripping with sarcasm.

Before they could argue, Din looked around, having picked up on a sound coming from another nearby alley. It was a metallic sound that Elora and Din were both familiar with. At the mouth of the alley, Din pulled his blaster from its holster faster than the blink of an eye, shooting at a silver battle droid who was carrying cargo.

"What the fuck, Din?!"

It took several shots to destroy the droid. The cargo, a large grey chest, fell to the floor, a golden power-like substance coming out of it. Elora had seen it before, and she knew a spice deal gone wrong meant trouble. "I know you hate droids, but thoughtlessly shooting one is risky, given the cargo it's supposed to load on the sled.

"I don't care. That's the kind of droid that killed my parents. It's dangerous." The hatred in his voice was audible.

"It was likely reprogrammed. They can be useful for carrying heavy objects." she tried to explain.

Din clenched his hands into tight fists and took deep breaths, trying to calm his rapid heartbeat. "What would you do to the man who you thought had killed your mother, Elora?"

It took her a moment to think of the right words, but she decided to be blunt about it. "I would let him suffer before I kill him." she said in a dark tone. She understood his actions, but also saw the risk. Din's trauma seemed to impact his judgment. 

That's when a blaster bolt came out of nowhere, almost hitting Elora in the shoulder. She dodged it with her lightsaber in a second's notice. There were men yelling inside the building. Another blaster bolt hit Din in his chest plate, causing him to stumble a few steps back.

"See what you've done?!" They started running again, Elora dodging the blaster bolts that followed them with her lightsaber and Din firing shots at the group of six men, shielding Grogu from harm with his body. His aim was much better than theirs. In a matter of minutes there were only four of them left, then three, one… Even when no more shots were fired after the last spice smuggler fell, Din and Elora remained on high alert, Arfour bleeping uncomfortably and Grogu on top of him dropped his long ears in fear.

"It's okay, sweetie, we're out of danger now." Elora cooed, picking him up. In her arms he instantly buried his little face in the crook of her neck and she went to face Din. "Listen, I understand what overcame you when you saw that droid. The same feeling overcame me when I met you for the first time, Din. I learned in the best way that things are not always as they seem. This droid was programmed to load cargo, not kill innocents, and I know a thing or two about droids. You're not the type of guy who thinks with their blaster, it was reckless and so unlike you."

"I- I'm so sorry, I put you all in danger. It was never my intention, it's just…" She noticed how he shivered. "I saw that droid and I just…. I was nine years old when one of those things almost killed me. When I saw the droid back there, it was like I was a child again.." Din's voice trembled. Elora felt a deep sadness radiating off him. Before she could pull him into a hug he walked past her, his gaze on a clothesline where a red cloak was hanging to dry.

"Darling?" Elora asked as Din stared at the cloak, his posture being rigid.

"That's traditional Vetinese clothing. My family… that's what we used to wear." His voice was quiet and sad. "I don't remember much, but I know I was happy. It's the little things that I still recall the most aside from our last moments together. The scent of my mother's perfume, my father's laugh… Damn it was such a long time ago."

Din took the red fabric in his hand, a familiar feeling of safety settled in his gut at the touch.

"Nothing gets lost in this universe. In the force they'll always be with you until the day you join them." Din turned, and Elora took the opportunity to pull him into a warm hug. He rested his head on her shoulder, enjoying the feeling of her running her hands over his arms.

"Whatever you feel, Din, it's okay."

Their hug was suddenly interrupted when the back door of the building opened. A little old lady in a lilac dressing gown stepped out, two tookas purring around her legs.

"What's all the noise out here?!" she asked, her wrinkly face contorted in anger.

"Sorry, m'am. We were about to leave." Elora apologized.

The expression on the woman's face changed from anger to curiosity as she took in Din's shiny appearance. "Why did you return here?" the lady asked Din, who was taken aback by her question. "Your people freed what was left of our village. Are you back because this town is in danger?" she clarified.

"No, not at all. I was actually born here. The Mandalorians took me in after the battle droids attacked the town.”

The old lady frowned thoughtfully, appraising him. "What's your name?"

For a moment Din hesitated telling this woman - a stranger - his name, but decided to take the risk and do it. "The name's Din. Din Djarin."

Her eyes lit up at his name. "You're Zaro and Ni'qa Djarin's boy, aren't you? Oh, I thought you had died along with them." Tears welled in her eyes as she introduced herself as Varia Geth, explaining that she had been a neighbor of Din's family back in the day. Din was still in disbelief hearing his parents' names and that there was someone who remembered him from before his life as a Mandalorian foundling. He couldn't place the warm feeling that blossomed in his heart, but he knew Elora and Grogu felt it too.

Varia invited them into her house. Grogu was immediately fascinated by her tookas and squealed happily as Din put him down to let him play with them.

"If you and your wife are looking for a place to stay, you can sleep in my son's room. I have no use for it since he moved out." Varia offered, and Din and Elora eagerly accepted, without bothering to correct her when it came to the title of their relationship, since old people could be a bit conservative at times, and they wanted to sleep in the same room.

It turned out, Varia had a real talent for baking, much to Grogu's delight. They sat down in her cozy living room that had many pillows and self made blankets. With a hot chocolate for each, Varia started telling them stories from before the Separatist invasion that destroyed the village. How all people wore red cloaks when leaving the house, about the peace and quiet she missed so much in this bustling city. Din listened intently, sipping his hot chocolate through a straw that went under his helmet. From the stories Varia told them, his parents had been kind and generous people, living a simple life with the wellbeing of their only child as their top priority.

Bedtime was truly something else when you were used to sleeping in the small nook on the Razor Crest. The spare bedroom in Varia's house had a bed that was big enough for two, with lots of soft pillows and self made quilts. Grogu cooed as he climbed on top of it, getting comfortable.

Din removed his armor sans his helmet, feeling safe enough in this house to do so. Elora took off her boots and put her lightsaber on the bedside table before lying down next to Grogu who was trying real hard to keep his eyes open. Din laid down on the other side of him, so Grogu was lying in between his guardians. He yawned and they watched him drift off to sleep with a smile on his face.

Arfour had switched off, charging in the corner of the bedroom, and peace and quiet settled in the house. Din and Elora looked at each other, and despite the helmet, she knew the look in his eyes was full of affection.

"I certainly didn't expect the day to go like this." he whispered barely loud enough for the vocoder to pick up.

"How do you feel?"

It took Din a good minute to come up with the right words. "Like I made the right choice by coming here. I have to thank you for suggesting it." He caressed her cheek with his gloved hand. "My sweet girl, you helped me reconnect with my family in a way, I hope I can find a way to return the favor."

"Mmm.. the thought of my mom spending Life Day without me now that I know she's alive... It feels a bit off." Elora yawned, closing her eyes. Din didn't miss the light frown she always had when she was worried.

"I'll do everything so you can celebrate together next year, mesh'la. Rest now, the kid will be up early."

He didn't have to tell her twice. He watched her fall asleep wrapped in the colorful quilt blankets, taking her hand in his. Just like any Mandalorian, he swore to put his little family before everything else, like his parents before him.

"Patu! PATU!"

Elora groaned when Grogu jumped on her chest before the sun was up.

"No…it's too early. Go back to sleep." she cursed in Jawa Trade under her breath. That's when she felt that the other side of the bed was cold and empty, her eyes blinking open. Grogu crawled up to her face and squished her cheeks with his pudgy hands.

"Grogu!" Din's voice came from the hallway. He came to take the child off her chest. "I told you to let her sleep longer. I'm sorry, cyare. He woke me up first, all excited about his Life Day gifts."

While Elora sat up and rubbed her eyes, Din took Grogu back into the living room where he started playing with the Life Day gift Din had gotten him - a Thranta plushie that was actually more of a soft blanket than a stuffed toy, and miniature Jawa toy figures. Varia was preparing breakfast in the kitchen, waffles by the smell of it. Din wished his life could always be this harmonic, but he knew the reality was a different one, Moff Gideon was still out there and many others wouldn't hesitate to kill him for his beskar or to get to Elora and the kid.

After breakfast (Din having breakfast in the living room instead of the kitchen due to his Creed), Elora approached him with a present wrapped in red paper. "I found this on the market yesterday. I think it's a useful gift."

Din raised his brows, surprised that she, too, had bought him a gift. He didn't expect that.

"I didn't steal it by the way." she added as she noticed his hesitation.

"I didn't assume you stole it, I'm just…" He unwrapped the item, which was a box containing a collection of high quality vibroblades. He took one, twirling it between his fingers. Din huffed in disbelief. "They must have cost a fortune."

"I saved some credits from our previous jobs. Do you like them?"

Din stood up, looking down at her. "No. I love them! Such a thoughtful gift, thank you so much!" He wrapped his arms around her. "Gifting weapons is a sign of trust in my culture. It means a lot to me."

Varia searched several shelves in her living room until she found what she had been looking for. It was a small holochip she gave to Din.

"What is this for?"

"Put it in the projector and you'll see." she said with a kind smile.

They all took a seat in front of the holoprojector in the living room. Grogu was still distracted, playing with his new toys.

As Din inserted the holochip, a holopic popped up, showing several people in a backyard. Adults and children alike wore red cloaks and the neighborhood looked rather rural. Din held his breath as he saw his parents' faces for the first time in so many years. They were talking to friends and neighbors, and there was him, chasing after a tooka with a wide smile on his face. He looked no older than four years in this holopic.

"Is that-" 

"Yes. That was before I took the Creed, which means you can look at it."

"Oh Din, you were so sweet! You still are, of course."

Din huffed at Elora’s remark. "I know hundreds of ways to kill someone. There's nothing sweet about that, cyare." He couldn't take his eyes off his parents' faces. Elora sensed his inner turmoil and took his hand.

"You can keep the holochip. That's my gift for you, young man." Varia said, tearing up at Din's reaction.

"Thank you. I- I don't know what to say. You really wanna give this to me?"

"It's your family, you should carry a picture of them with you. I have enough holochips anyway." she shrugged.

Elora and Din agreed that this was the best Life Day ever, despite being their first. There was hardly anything that could top that. If Grogu could speak, he would probably agree, judging by the joyful gleam in his dark eyes while playing with his new toys.

They spent Life Day eating cookies, laughing together, listening to Varia's stories and telling her of their adventures in return. Taking some time to unwind and not worry about what tomorrow would bring was exactly what they needed. They made memories that day they would cherish forever. It truly felt like, for a moment, the Galaxy was completely at peace.

<- previous chapter

They needed some downtime ok! Now let's get back to new adventures around the Galaxy with the next story arc coming soon! Spoiler: Our favorite Weequay space pirate will show up in the next chapter!

[winniethewife]

Outcaste (Din Dijarin x OC)

Growing pains

Last chapter ~ Next chapter

Words: 611

Many rotations later they had been on several adventures together. They were falling in sync with each other. Sleeping in the same bed at night. Althea has become accustomed to wearing the blindfold to bed every night and waiting for him to take it off every morning. Althea had spent time with her aunt Bo-katan Kryze who had gotten her some Mandolorian armor, Althea didn't wear the helmet very much, except when they visited his clan. Like they were today after dropping off a bounty. Althea stood in her white and blue armor with the markings of clan Kryze and a Jedi crest. 

Din stood right beside her as she wore her new armor and he had to admit that it truly looked amazing on her. He was happy that she was adjusting to spending time with his clan. He would make sure to be by her side during this whole trip so he could make sure nobody bothered her. She walked right behind him, ignoring the stares from some of the other Mandolorians as they passed. This isn't the first time they've visited since she started to wear the armor but it was still a shock to most of them to have someone like her in their presence. This may not be her clan, but she is considered an ally at this point in time. As they approach where the Armorer resides Althea tenses up.

“I'll wait here while you go in. I don't think she likes me very much. Din looked back at her and gave her a soft, compassionate look as he held out his hand for her to grab onto “I understand.” She took his hand and squeezed it once, although both of their faces are covered by helmets they knew they were there for each other. She stood to the side and waited. Her fingers ran over her lightsabers. She watches as some of the children and foundlings play. She smiles beneath her helmet. A couple of the children run up to her. She got down on their level as they giggled calling her the princess. It appears some rumors of who she was had gotten around. 

She could feel the glares of some of the other Mandolorians follow her as she spends time with the children. Althea understands that she may be of Mandalore but these people wouldn't accept her since she has refused to 'walk the way.' and accept their creed. they murmur about where Dins loyalty lies. She feels disappointed when she hears the murmurs. She had done so much to respect their way of doing things without committing to it. To their children she was a princess of Mandalore, to them she was a figure of a time long gone and a way of life they refused to follow. She just wanted to relax for a while and not think about the weight on her shoulders of being one of the last of her kind. Both as a Mandolorian and as a Jedi. Her parents had both died for codes, she didn't want to follow one. But would she ever be accepted here? Would she eventually have to abandon the one good thing in her life so that he can follow his path? It was too much to deal with right now.

She doesn’t notice Din watching her and the children in the distance. All he can think about is how lucky he is that he met her. That she survived it all. He starts to walk over to her. A single thought passes through his mind.

Despite it all, Mandolore lives on

~

Masterlist

Tags: @soft-girl-musings

[greyarea-fic]

1- Prologue & 2- The Secret

Grey Area | the mandalorian

Prologue

- approximately three decades earlier -

Obi-Wan Kenobi was dragged into the throne room by two very sizeable Mandalorians. Many other fully armored Mandalorians were gathered in the long and tall room, which was fully made of glass and accented with the iron heart motif. Directly across from the double doors sat a throne, reserved for the Mand’alor. But to Kenobi’s horror, someone else was there. A red zabrak sith that he’d killed 12 years ago. Darth Maul lounged carelessly as if he owned the throne he sat upon, grinning smugly. A second Zabrak, Maul's brother, was posted at his right shoulder.

At the Sith’s left shoulder, however, was a tall and lean woman with blonde hair, soft blue eyes, and an angular face that currently bore an expression of grief and fear. She was unarmored, instead in a blue dress intended to be accompanied by regal accessories. Dutchess Satine was someone who stood proudly and surely; a bold ruler that the galaxy had come to know well. She had always lived up to the reputation of House Kryze, but now she kneeled with her head bowed. A brave spirit that was forcibly broken.

The revolting sight made Obi-Wan’s stomach flip. 

"Your noble flaw is a weakness shared by you, and your duchess." Maul addressed his nemesis as he suddenly lifted Satine by her throat through the Force. She struggled and choked mid-air.

The scene was like a nightmare come true. Impulsively, Obi-Wan made a sudden attempt to break free and rescue Satine from the fierce hold upon her trachea, but he was held firmly in place by the rugged warriors flanking him.

"You should have chosen the dark side, Master Jedi." Maul taunted, stalking closer as the duchess choked and clawed at her throat, her floating body trailing beside him. "Your emotions betray you."

Behind a scowl, Obi-Wan’s blue eyes nervously darted between Maul and Satine. His cheeks and ears were growing hot as he became more frustrated. This was a feeling he never let himself indulge in. Adrenaline raced through his veins, and if not for the other Mandalorians that stood in the room, Obi-Wan was sure that he could behead the half-cyborg before him. Maybe drive his saber through the skull for good measure.

"Your fear, and yes, your anger."

Obi-Wan bared his teeth. He absolutely could not let himself give in. All of his training had led up to this moment- he had to remain in control. Emotional regulation had become a subconscious act, but now he was feeling everything all at once. It was overwhelming. So this was why attachment was forbidden.

"Let your anger deepen your hatred!" Maul bellowed.

He would not let this shallow-minded Sith turn him from the light, his entire existence was devoted to serving it. Following the light side was his only choice. But for the briefest of fleeting moments, Obi-Wan found himself tempted to give in to dark emotions. How could one not be angry at the sight of their lover suffering at the hands of their archenemy?

"Don't listen to him, Obi-" the Duchess struggled to say between gasps.

"Quiet," Maul growled at her; a deep, feral sound.

Hearing those words from her lips helped to anchor Obi-Wan. His mind calmed, and his quivering body stilled. A deep inhale, and the light once again freely flowed through him. This was what he had trained for. If one could see the Force, Obi-Wan would have been brighter than twin suns. Defiant prose easily rolled off his tongue: "You can kill me, but you will never destroy me. It takes strength to resist the dark side. Only the weak embrace it."

"It is more powerful than you know." Maul proclaimed.

"And those who oppose it are more powerful than you'll ever be."

This enraged Maul, evoking a deep snarl. He had become convinced that darkness was the only way, and nothing in the galaxy was ever going to change his mindset. But for the sake of Satine's life, Obi-Wan continued to try and reason with him. "I know where you're from. I've been to your village. I know the decision to join the dark side wasn't yours. The Nightsisters made it for you."

"SILENCE!" The Sith’s yell reverberated through the large room, bouncing off the glass panes and metal framing. "You think you know me? It was I who languished for years thinking of nothing but you. Nothing but this moment." He pointed at the Duchess, who was still suspended and hopelessly choking for air. "And now, the perfect tool for my vengeance is in front of us."

It suddenly clicked. Obi-Wan realized with horror why they both were in the room with Maul. His stomach suddenly dropped through the core of Mandalore faster than lightspeed.

"I never planned on killing you. But I will make you share my pain, Kenobi."

Satine's eyes widened in fear. She continued to cough as the chokehold on her neck was tightened, and her Jedi was suddenly kicked to the ground.

In one swift move, Maul ignited the Darksaber and brought Satine flying forward into the blade, brutally piercing it straight through her abdomen, stopping only when the cold Beskar hilt reached her skin. She cried out in unspeakable pain, reaching for her beloved.

Obi-Wan could not believe his eyes, and he would not sit and watch her suffer any longer. With a sudden surge of power, he broke free of the Mandalorians holding him down and dashed across the room. “Satine!" he cried.

As he ran, the Darksaber was deactivated, and the blade pulled out of Satine's gut. She limply fell to the foot of her former throne with a sickening thud. Obi-Wan pulled her into his lap, cradling her dying body close as she struggled to breathe. He watched with despair as her life began fading away. It is one tragedy to be stabbed, but another to be impaled and burned so severely to get cauterized from the inside.

Maul sauntered back to the throne and retook his seat, smirking at the sight. One of the galaxy’s most powerful Jedi in an emotional heap on the floor; the Mandalorian Duchess dying by an icon of the civilization she once ruled. This day was one to remember.

"Remember, my dear Obi-Wan..." Satine said, shakily lifting her hand to hold his cheek. He gently tilted his head into her grasp, eyes bleary. "I've loved you always. I always will." There were so many things left unsaid between them, but at least that was not one of them.

The image of a young daughter that Obi-Wan did not know about crossed Satine’s blackening mind. If she was going to die, Bo-Katan was going to be the only family left to keep her safe. Her last thoughts were spent wishing she had told him of their child, although she knew very well why she hadn’t. He would have left the Order for them, and most likely without a second thought to his career or his importance to the galaxy at large. She wanted to tell him all of this, but her mutilated body simply didn't have any more strength left.

Obi-Wan, the strong and careful leader, was reduced to tears as he watched Satine’s soft blue eyes close. She was the only woman he’d ever let himself love. Her body relaxed, then went fully limp in his arms. He hugged her close as his mind raced through everything they’d been through together. Tears freely flowed down his cheeks as savored the last kiss he’d ever place on her hand.

-/-/-/-

[A/N: the main character's name is Adinla, pronounced uh-DEAN-luh]

-/-/-/-

The Secret

Thirty years later...

"Only one Mandalorian above ground at a time, our safety is our secrecy."

Bullshit.

If there was one thing Adinla hated, it was being stuck with nothing to do. Since the last mission a few days ago was a success and she got a hefty 50k for a high-stakes target, she was stuck in the underground lair of the Mandalorian covert.

The bounty had taken one last desperate shot from the ground and hit the shin armor, so now there was a large streak of silvery beskar and burn marks parting a sea of steel blue. Most would've left it, a battle wound to advertise prowess. But Adinla had plenty of free resources at her disposal, and of course, she was going to take advantage of them before she left the covert for good.

She decided not to do just a simple patch, but a whole paint job update. To anyone who didn’t know her, it would've looked like routine maintenance. What she was doing was reinstating her “signature” paint that she’d designed around 18 years ago. Adinla went into a private room with her paint and took all her beskar’gam off.

Temporarily bland leg plates were given a navy-blue trim. Unembellished chest plates became accented by three parallel lines that individually made 90-degree angles in the upper left and lower right corners, made from the same darker blue. These angles were reflected on the cheeks of the helmet, which were a medium shade of steel blue. The ‘face’ of the helmet around the visor, became a light, snowy shade of blue. A symbol reminiscent of a flying bird, in the accent blue, went above the seam where the dome connected to the rest of the helmet. The shoulder bells, knee covers, and gauntlets were all solidly painted the darker accent blue.

The only thing left to do was to paint an important symbol of allegiance in the white circle she put on the left shoulder bell. For most Mandalorians, this would be the Mythosaur skull. But in thin black paint, Adinla applied two parallel lines that concurrently formed a diamond in the middle, with two solid diamonds flanking both top sides. Adinla had worn this symbol proudly throughout the war against the Empire, but here in the covert, she had to be careful. When she reapplied her armor, she tugged the rather rugged black cape over the left shoulder.

Sitting on the curb of the once busy sewer that the covert resided in, Adinla was doing some minor maintenance on her jetpack when a male Mandalorian descended the nearest stairwell. He was looking quite proud of himself, half sauntering, half strutting down the tunnel. His armor was worn and old, except for a very shiny unpainted helmet of pure beskar. Everyone watched him as he went, for he'd been gone on a job for several weeks.

This was the only member of the tribe whom Adinla did not know the name of. As he walked past, she noticed that he held a considerably sized camtono that he was almost struggling to carry.

"Beskar?" She whispered and looked at someone who was sitting near her, a friendly young man named Soln Eyi’st. He nodded his battered orange helmet and watched the other man disappear around the corner. Soln got up and followed, as did many others.

Adinla hesitated. Nobody was watching: it was a perfect time to silently slip away, never to be seen again. But curiosity got the best of her. She replaced her jetpack on her backplate, and peeked around the corner of the doorway. A large sculpture of the Mythosaur skull hung overhead the curved entrance.

The camtono was open, and there were enough beskar slabs inside to fully outfit almost two people. Not even during her youth in Sundari, where the infamous Mines of Mandalore resided, had Adinla ever seen that many pure slabs in one place.

"I must warn you: it will draw many eyes." The Armorer said to the owner of the new beskar, who was seated in front of her.

An older man, Paz Viszla, stepped forward and grabbed a piece, inspecting it. The metal shone with an impeccable luster that was broken only by faint embedded lines and curves, the only evidence that it was once liquified. In the bottom right corner lay a most hated symbol. He let out a short, harsh laugh.

"These were cast in Imperial smelter. These are the spoils of the great purge, the reason that we live hidden like sand rats." He spat, almost carelessly tossing the illustrious metal back on the table.

"Our secrecy is our survival. It is our strength." The Armorer said, carefully stacking the slabs into a tower.

"Our strength was once in our numbers. Now we live in the shadows and only come above ground one at a time." Viszla challenged. "Our world was shattered by the Empire, with which this coward shares tables."

Viszla grabbed the seated one by the helmet and they started wrestling, and then resorted to vibroblades as the rest watched. Adinla sighed, this was the sort of inexplicable infighting that had brought their society down in the first place.

The Armorer seemed to ignore their squabble as she continued stacking, but finally, she'd had enough. "The Empire is no longer, and the beskar has returned." she proclaimed, standing up.

The two had their blades at each other’s throats, locked in a stare-down.

"When one chooses to walk the Way of the Mandalore, you are both hunter and prey." The Armorer continued. "How can one be a coward if one chooses this way of life? Have you ever removed your helmet?"

"No," The man with the beaten armor answered.

"Has it ever been removed by others?"

"Never."

"This is the Way." The Armorer said.

"This is the Way." Replied the gathered crowd. Adinla stayed silent.

After a moment, Paz reluctantly returned the saying.  

"What caused this damage?" The Armorer asked, addressing the heavily torn-up armor.

"A mudhorn."

"Then you have earned the mudhorn as your signet. I shall craft it."

Some people started to turn away. Armor making was a custom that they'd all witnessed and partook in. It normally took a long time to complete, but this man was having a whole new kit crafted for him. Surely, they'd be there for a few hours at the least.

"I can't accept it. It... wasn't a noble kill. I was... helped by an enemy."

Everyone was suddenly very still. One does not simply turn down their signet. It is an honor to be given one.

"Why would an enemy help you in battle?" The Armorer asked.

"It... did not know it was my enemy." the man with the shiny helmet said quietly.

The Armorer was intrigued. She cocked her head in contemplation, then after a moment replied slowly, "Since you forgo a signet... I shall use the excess to forge whistling birds."

"Whistling birds will do well," he confirmed. "Reserve some for the foundlings."

"As it should always be. The foundlings are the future. This is the Way."

"This is the Way." Everyone replied in unison.

Adinla finally turned and walked away from the group. The man she did not know was suspicious, and her intuition told her that she needed to look deeper into his situation. Which was odd, because what he did to come into possession of so much Imperial claim beskar was none of her business. And whatever encounter he’d had involving a mudhorn and an enemy was also nothing she needed to worry about. She had her own personal quest to think about, did she really need to let something else get in the way again? But the more she thought against investigating, the more urgent the insistence to do so became.

She sighed and gave in. Intuitions such as these were not to be questioned: she had learned this the hard way.

So, up the hidden stairwell of the old sewer and out onto the streets of Nevarro she went. The crowd of civilians who milled about the bazaar parted for Adinla, sensing that she was on a mission to get somewhere. Seeing a fully armored Mandalorian stalking down the street with a blaster strapped on each hip, a sniper rifle loosely around the shoulder, and a jet pack had to be scary, or at least intimidating. Mothers held their children closer, and criminals pulled their hoods down to hurry past as she went.

At last, she reached the edge of town near the airfield where everyone parked their ships. She looked around to make sure the area was clear of others before using her jetpack to get to the top of one of the buildings. This building was special because it was tall and quiet. There was a secluded enclave that wasn’t visible from the street or any other rooftops, and it overlooked the shipyard. Adinla set her rifle down and sat cross-legged next to it, closing her eyes. She was about to attempt something that she hadn’t let herself do in years.

But it all came right back to her.

Breathe in through the nose, and out the mouth.

Calm the mind.

See the light-

Feel it flowing through.

Inhale, exhale.

Eventually, a ripple became visible. Rather, a beacon. Someone like her was nearby, just a few alleyways over.

Focus…

Suddenly, a bright and urgent cry. Whoever it was, they were in pain. They were scared and alone.

Someone was asking for her help.

Adinla’s eyes flashed open just in time to see the other Mandalorian walking into a ship, presumably his. Heart pounding with adrenaline, she watched his ship fully power up, preparing for flight, when it was suddenly shutting back off, and the ramp opened again. The man came back out and moved swiftly back towards the city.

From upon the rooftops, Adinla followed the suspicious man, who sported shiny new armor that now matched his helmet. She wondered if he was going to the place where she knew the cry of help to have come from. He looked over his shoulder and went down a shady lane between buildings, lined with the homeless. He came upon a dumpster, looked inside, and touched a discarded pram. At last, he turned and came to a door, the door of the building. He had something to do with whoever was calling.

The shiny man knocked on the door, then ripped the security droid out of the wall before taking cover behind an adjacent corner. Two stormtroopers came out of the building, and Adinla ducked beneath the edge of the roof to avoid being spotted.

Dank farrik!

Apparently, Adinla could not escape the Empire.

The other Mandalorian crept to the side of the building, where he set a charge on the wall, and blew it out. Immediately, the familiar Imperial klaxon alarms sounded, and before any more stormtroopers could come out he dashed in. Within a second, there was shooting and yelling coming from the inside.

Cautiously, Adinla peeked her head over the edge of the roof she was hiding behind, and it was clear. She jumped off the building, jetpack softening the landing, drew her blaster, and went inside. The floor was littered with bodies of stormtroopers, some mutilated, others in the process of a slow and painful end. Following the trail of death, she came to a door and heard the other Mandalorian inside yelling at someone.

"What did you do to it?"

Whimpering.

"What did you do to it?" A much deeper and angrier tone this time.

A very panicked voice hurriedly responded. "I protected him, I protected him! If it wasn't for me, he would already be dead! Please!"

Peeking around the corner, Adinla’s stomach did a flip as she spotted a small green baby with large ears lying unconscious on a table, and the other Mandalorian was standing in front of it with his blaster pointed at an Imperial doctor huddled in the corner.

"Please, please!" the small man begged with his eyes squeezed shut, futilely trying to hide behind a canister.

The Mandalorian ignored him and moved swiftly and quietly, lifting the sleeping child, and storming out the door. She quickly flattened herself against the wall as he brushed past, curtly nodding to her out of reflex. He abruptly stopped and did a double-take as he turned around and fully registered that there was in fact another Mandalorian there with him.

"What are you doing with that child?" She calmly asked, not daring to step forward.

"If you came for its bounty, I already took it." He said, slowly backing away.

"I know," she gestured to his new armor.

Exasperated, he cut her off. "Look, they're going to kill the kid if I don't save him. I can't let that happen."

A stormtrooper came around the corner and shot at the pair. The bolt ricocheted off the man's backplate, but Adinla quickly shot down the assailant. “I’ll help you.”

"Yeah," he said dubiously, turning on his heel and hastily marching off.

Adinla jogged to catch up, ignoring his obvious attempt to leave her behind. She pulled out her second blaster, completing her pair of Westar 35s, and proceeded to flank him.

The next room was full of stormtroopers. Easily, the pair shot them all down within seconds, and they walked into another room that stored crates. A few stormtroopers came through another door.

"Split up, let's flush them out." one of the troopers said.

Adinla smirked under her helmet. These bucket heads stood no chance at all. The Mandalorians navigated in tandem through the dimly lit room, using the shadows to hide, swiftly and quietly eliminating the troopers one by one. It was only a moment before all the plastoid clad men in the room were dead.

The pair moved to the next room, which was empty. The exit laid just ahead, and the path was clear. Until, of course, their luck ran out.

"Freeze!"

"Hands up!"

"Drop your weapons!"

“Easy!” The man with new shiny new beskar replied quickly. "Here's what I'm going to do. I'm going to put this down, slowly. What I'm carrying is very valuable."

He kneeled, and he looked at her to follow his lead. They put down their blasters, but when he went to put the kid down, she saw his whistling birds ready. They indeed did whistle as the small rockets ejected from his wrist, and they were once again the only ones alive.

"Smart move."

"Yeah." He mindlessly replied, carefully cradling the little one to his chest.

The two hustled from the building, and out to the alleyway. The man turned to blatantly walk down the main street, but Adinla rushed ahead and stopped in front of him. Countless tracking fobs had suddenly begun chiming in the distance. "Are you crazy? They'll shoot you down before you can make it anywhere!"

"I have no choice!" He motioned to his back, which unlike hers had no jetpack.

"Okay, then give me the kid. I'll secure him somewhere away from here where we can rendezvous while you sneak through the sewers to your ship.”

"What? No!"

She stopped to think for a moment. This man had no reason beside the creed to trust her with such a task. Of course, he wasn’t going to agree. "Well, whatever your plan is, I'll cover you from above."

“Why are you trying to help me?” He asked.

Adinla answered without hesitation. “Because it’s the right thing to do.”

This arrangement he was okay with, and once she got back up to the roofs, they were filled with bounty hunters watching him go down the street. The tracking fobs they all held blinked and beeped so steadily when pointed at the shiny Mandalorian that they made a single loud tone. She holstered her blasters and unshouldered her rifle, pretending she was also after him as to not draw any eyes. In reality, she was about to shoot down all these mercenaries where they stood.

More and more people crawled out of the shadows, each and every one of them hoping for a chance to claim the small bundle that the man was nonchalantly carrying down the street.

Greef Karga, the Bounty Hunter Guild’s local administrator stepped out and blocked the gate to the airfield. "Welcome back, Mando!” he called out with false niceties, before demanding: “Now put the package down."

The Mandalorian's hand flitted over the leather holster on his hip. "Step aside. I'm going to my ship."

"You put the bounty down and perhaps I'll let you pass."

"The kid's coming with me." he said confidently.

"If you truly care about the kid, then you'll put it on the speeder and we'll discuss terms." Karga said firmly. The man was pigeonholed, for he was absolutely surrounded by hundreds of muzzles all trained on him.

Adinla hated these kinds of terms, where they tried to coerce you into doing something because of your feelings. If she had been the one down there holding the kid, she would've made some snarky remark about how she didn't need Karga’s validation of her emotions. Actually, if she had been the one holding the kid, she wouldn’t have walked onto suicide street in the first place. She hoped that whatever he was planning was good.

The Mandalorian suddenly started shooting and dove into a nearby speeder. Adinla took this as her cue to quickly take out everyone on the rooftop.

"Drive!" He yelled at the droid in charge of the speeder. It refused. He pointed his blaster at it, and the R2 unit obliged, suddenly sending the little flatbed speeder down the street at a good pace. But, it wasn't long before someone got smart and shot the droid, bringing his getaway to a quick halt.

Adinla had taken out many of the people on the roof but she'd had to take cover, as some of the unfriendly fire had diverged towards her. From a nook in a lipped rooftop, she slid her rifle over the edge and targeted people on the street instead. But just by sheer number someone spotted her. A strong shot landed above her left eye, violently jarring her head to the side. Momentarily stunned by the ringing in her ears and the reverberation of the beskar, she slumped to the right.

The man was too preoccupied with his own problems to notice. He grabbed his amban pulse rifle and began vaporizing anyone that was in range. There was a reason that this weapon had been banned by both the Empire and the New Republic; literally nothing was left of its victims.

The pursuing hunters all scrambled to get out of his line or sight, as more and more people were reduced to atoms. All the loud ruckus of many blasters firing suddenly silenced. In an instant, the shootout was in a stalemate. Nobody dared to fully show themselves in fear of the rifle. Smoke filled the air.

The sudden change in volume snapped Adinla back into focus, and she cautiously peered out at the street.

"That’s one impressive weapon you've got there, Mando." Karga called out from wherever he was hiding.

A hunter was creeping up on the man from behind, who was still laying on the flatbed speeder unknowingly clutching the kid to his chest. Adinla shot the hunter down, and the shootout began again. It was even more frantic and chaotic than before. At this point, most didn't even know what they were shooting at, they just hoped they would hit the right thing.

Out of nowhere, the Mandalorian Covert suddenly flew up into the sky, easily overwhelming the pursuers. Adinla looked up in awe, she had no idea where they’d come from or why. One landed beside her, it was Soln. He nodded a greeting, and together they flew up and took out the fleeing mercenaries. It’d been so long since she’d been in battle with this many Mandalorians at her side, and it felt like they were invincible.

But off in the distance, Adinla saw Karga running towards Mando's ship, which had its cargo bay ramp down. She jettisoned over to stop him. He saw her beelined approach and rushed inside.

Once she reached the ramp, the whole cargo bay was filled with vapor from the carbonite freezer and Karga was nowhere to be found. She went to turn on the heat detecting setting in her visor when she suddenly sensed movement, but it was too late. The older man came from behind and slugged the back of her helmet with the barrel of his blaster. The force of his swing combined with the earlier injury and her forward crouch almost knocked her onto the ground. Despite the renewed ringing in her head, she used the flame thrower in her gauntlet to push him back, as she retreated further into the ship.

Footsteps sounded behind Adinla and as she turned to see who it was, Karga shot her helmet from a close range. She stumbled backwards into the shiny Mandalorian, who caught her shoulder as he shot Karga with his rifle. Greef Karga flew a long way backwards out of the ship, and he landed with a hard thump on the ground outside.

Adinla was reeling. Three shots to the head in just a few minutes was too much. If it wasn’t for the beskar, she’d be dead. But alas, her head was pounding and she was nauseous.

"Are you okay?"

She tried to look at the man, who had dropped his rifle to hold her steady, but the cargo bay began spinning and blurring around her. "You need to get out of here," she croaked before passing out. Her limp body clattered to the floor.