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gripefroot · 3 years ago

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Son of Sunlight

Ever-autumn was cool, crisp mornings and sunshine in the afternoons that warmed the expanse of leafy trees in shades of burnished orange and gold. Only dappled light shone through to the ground below; littered with the fallen leaves that crunched underfoot. Harvest bounty never slacked, here - Lucien bit into the last bits of sweet, mealy flesh of his apple, eyes darting back and forth between the branches of the massive trees around him as he wandered forward. He meant to appear as the careless High Lord’s son he was supposed to play; any passersby might even believe it.

Swallowing that last bite, he tossed the apple core over his shoulder. Reached into the knapsack hanging at his side for another. The forest had gone still around him, and his left ear twitched. It always did, when it knew.

He made a point to take an extra loud bite.

��Lord Fox.”

He didn’t look up, but he knew precisely where she was. Giving the game away too early would bore her, he knew, and so squashing the leaping pulse in his chest, Lucien paused, and gave a deep bow. Loose hair spilled over his shoulders, and when he straightened his eyes landed on her: perched on a tree branch some fifteen feet above him, back against the trunk and bare feet swinging in the air. And smiling. As though she knew something he didn’t.

“Lady Vixen,” Lucien drawled. Took another bite, careless as could be.

“So far from the big house,” she went on. “Are you on the hunt today?”

“I have an appetite,” he said. Grinned, because he knew that she’d know, and by the way she was fussing with the ends of her bark-brown hair, he wouldn’t go home hungry.

“I have supper at my house,” she called down to him. “If your lordly personage would deign to partake of such...humble repast.”

Lucien cocked his head to the side, tongue darting out to lick some of the sweet juice of his apple from his lips. Her eyes honed in on him, her spine straightening slightly against the massive trunk of the tree. Her feet had stopped swinging, and she turned to face him with a toss of hair over her shoulder.

“I would deign,” he said, but his voice was quieter now. Like the forest around them. “Come down from there, Jes. I missed you.”

Curved, maple-red lips formed a smile. A sly one. And so, so lovely. “Only if you catch me.”

“You know I will.” And then Lucien barked a laugh, throwing aside this apple core, too, as he stepped closer to the tree and yanked his knapsack over his shoulder so that it was behind him. “Though for the sake of my arms, I’d be the first to suggest that you cease climbing trees.”

“No,” Jesminda declared. Hoisted herself to her feet, standing tall on that branch with one slender hand against the trunk. “No, I don’t think I will.”

And she leapt.

Lucien caught her with a grunt, keeping his footing in place despite the way she wriggled to be put down. He was awash in her scent, and his grip tightened behind her knees to hold her close, breathing in deep mossy musk tinged with smoked rosemary.

“Put me down!”

“No,” he said. Those large, brown eyes blinked up at him, narrowing slightly - he could already feel her fingers fisting in his hair to likely give a yank as she was wont to do to get her way - but before she could, he tilted his head to kiss her with a bruising kiss.

Her hand went slack.

“That was stolen,” Jesminda whispered when he pulled away, but he was pleased at the hint of red in her cheeks. “I should report you, thief.”

“Oh?” Lucien grinned. “Why not just take it back? I’m defenseless, lady, truly.”

Perhaps it had been wrong to antagonize her that way - even while he still tasted her on his lips, breathing her into his lungs - he felt her elbow connect with his ribs and he grunted, releasing her to fall to the leafy ground in a thump.

“Overhanded High Lord’s son,” she seethed, brushing the sprayed dirt from her tunic.

“Ungrateful little wench,” he shot right back. “I save you from a broken neck and this is what I get?”

A fistful of leaves was thrown his way, and Lucien laughed as Jesminda got back up to her feet. “You didn’t bargain for a kiss,” she said. “Or any payment. You can’t extract it after the fact. Even you know that, and I know for a fact you skivved off as many lessons as you could when you were a child.”

“Perhaps,” Lucien allowed. “Will you slap me if I get those leaves out of your hair too, Jes?” Immediately she started pawing at her own hair, lips pursed in his direction. Still, he couldn’t help staring; that flame in her eyes that flickered like lightning. Dapples dots of butter-yellow sunshine streaked across her like a halo.

“Better?” Jesminda asked at last, when her hair was looking more a nest than anything.

“All the leaves are gone, if that’s what you mean. You may need a comb, though.”

She stuck her tongue out at him for that, and he took the risk to close the distance between them, catching her hand in his to bring to his lips. He wouldn’t let her yank it back, either, and let that fire rage as he kissed her palm, and then her wrist, lingering there to inhale deeply until he was sure she would be imprinted on his bones forever...

“Lucien…” It was a murmur. Made his ears perk up as he felt the pulse of her heart thunder faster through her delicate, fragrant skin. He swallowed a groan, but lifted his head with a lazy smile.

Her skin was flushed. He knew. He knew. Whatever games she played, he’d tolerate - no, he’d dive in, headfirst, because behind her saucy mouth and tendency to throw things...her heart was no different than his. That is: utterly, completely, devoted.

“What did you make me for supper, then?” Lucien asked, making his voice as light and careless as possible, and Jesminda huffed out an irritated laugh as she tugged her hand free of his at last.

“I made you nothing,” she told him tartly, and with a shrug of her shoulder turned to walk away. He hurried to catch up, and she added, “I made myself supper and I thought to share. If you stop being a prick about it.”

“I am doing no such thing,” he sniffed.

“Liar.”

“Do you want more kissing or not?”

Jesminda leapt atop a protruding tree root, then jumped over to land on her feet as she cast him a look. “Do you truly need to ask?”

“I don’t need anything else thrown at me. Took me hours to braid my hair this morning.” Lucien smirked, fingering one of the plaits around his pointed ears for effect. It drew her attention to him, fastened like a button on his face as her steps slowed. Then hurried faster, as pink came into her cheeks again.

“So much empty time on your hands,” Jesminda said softly.

“Oh, definitely,” he agreed gravely. “Will you fill my hands, Jes? With more important things?”

Her eyes narrowed slightly. “Pervert.”

“Think of it as an opportunity to help out a High Lord’s son.”

“Right,” she laughed, and turned to face him. Walking backwards. But she knew the forest so well; better even than he did, that she didn’t stumble. “Helping. That’s what it is.”

“Yes, helping,” Lucien went on with a growl. “Helping me to - to kiss better. And that sort of thing.”

“Ah, yes,” Jesminda nodded. “That.”

“You make me a better lover.” It was a boyish declaration, but he meant it. He didn’t want to say that she filled her hands with more than herself; with love and affection and purpose, with wanting that went beyond the idle lusts that he’d watched his brothers indulge in for decades.

“That’s saying very little,” she retorted, but mischief lifted the corner of her mouth, and he stared. “You kissed with too much saliva when we met.”

“See? You’ve practically taken me on as a charity case,” he said, grinning, and that mischief burst into a warbling laugh that echoed through the trees.

“I’ll send the bill to the High Lord,” Jesminda teased.

“You’ll empty his coffers.”

“I deserve it, don’t you think?”

She paused on another tree root, this one tall enough that she peered down at him easily. Lucien didn’t hesitate to walk right up to her, his face level with her shoulders, to slide his hands up the backs of her legs as she smiled. Squeezing slightly, he drank in the sight of her eyes darkening to embers as she threaded her fingers through his hair once more - little threat of any yanks now, he thought with a grin, and he was right - she lowered her head to brush her lips against his. Just once - he groaned low in his throat at the light touch, hungry for so, so much more...but Jesminda pulled away, and smoothed his hair over his chest.

“Would you care to hurry us along?” she murmured. In answer he gripped her legs to haul her down, and her knees locked around his waist. It took only a tug and the forest dissolved around them in favor of a darkened, wood-planked house high in the trees with only fluttering leaves for a view outside the windows.

Lucien breathed in the smell of simmering stew from the iron stove, but he hadn’t a chance to make any smart comments: Jesminda, still wrapped around him, brought his face to hers for a crushing kiss that rattled through his bones.

Well-known steps took him to the neatly-made bed in the corner; little more than a cot covered in blankets and furs, and not nearly long enough for his lithe body in a general sense, but they always made do. And today, making-do meant that he sunk on the edge of the bed, long legs extended over the floor as she planted her knees on either side of him. Her fingers curled around his chin, tilting his face upwards just as her tongue parted his lips.

“Jes,” he said, hoarse and shaking, and he fumbled with the hem of her tunic to slide his hands beneath the waistband. Fingers sunk into her warm, supple flesh, and he could’ve swallowed her laugh. “Jes - ”

“How the fox croons,” she breathed right back, and his shirt was pulled over his head - she tossed it aside with his knapsack. Hungry eyes took in the sight of him, and that made his trousers feel uncomfortably tight. When she lowered her head to suckle at the base of his throat, hands in his hair, Lucien wondered if he’d simply tip over from dizzying, sultry heat that spread across his skin from her lips.

But he could play, too. A hiss of pleasure from between his teeth as her own made a mark on him: he slid one hand around her hip to between her spread legs, gathering wetness on the tips while she rocked against his touch.

“Impatient today, aren’t you, Jes?” Lucien murmured. “Impatient enough to ride my fingers, or can you wait?”

Jesminda mumbled something back at him, likely something that he really ought to pinch her for - but he couldn’t understand. So he simply stroked her where she burned, tipping his fingers in through her wet entrance as she moaned aloud - her hot mouth found his again, dragging out kiss after kiss after kiss -

His laces were undone in frantic haste, and his head spun when her delicate hand curved around him, springing him free. Thumb to the tip as she pressed, and he bucked towards her clumsily from his perch.

“There, now,” she whispered, and her laugh was a rustle of autumn leaves that skated across his skin, leaving prickles of ready desire. “Look who’s impatient now, Lord Fox.”

“It was a long walk to find you,” Lucien bit back, and chased her mouth with bared teeth that met in a click. But she backed away just enough that he merely tasted open air and his fingers slipped out from between her legs. A growl came out before he could stop it, but Jesminda seemed to like that - she smiled the smile of a crackling fire intent to reduce everything it touched to ashes, and she arched her hips forward and mounted him in a swift motion. He gripped her waist as she moved, staring up at her darkened face - outside the windows the afternoon sun was sinking.

He was nearly powerless as she rode him, her clenched fingers digging into his scalp as she panted for breath. But he trailed gentle, trailing paths beneath her tunic and up the smooth skin of her back, feeling the muscles tense and undulate. He’d worship her breasts later, Lucien was able to reassure himself - for now he lifted his chin, and licked her throat from the base to the tip of her chin. Smokey rosemary coated his tongue, and it made the heat building in him flare like a match struck.

He could feel it. Feel how close she was. As always, his body responded to that as if it were a dance: ready to fall over when she was.

“Jes,” he purred against her jaw, and she moaned back. Sweat was dotting her skin, and he swiped it off with his tongue. “Come on me, Jes.”

Lucien had seen a great deal of magic in his life, but this surpassed it all. She was spit embers crackling in the air, the first breeze of evening to kiss away the sweat of day, the high-stringed cords of a lyre plucked at a wild dance, honeyed mead that sparkled and snapped until all inhibition was chased away - and when she came with a crescendoed cry into the night he held her still and taut as he thrust upward. Attention narrowed in on that rapid pulse he could see beating in her neck, and when it slowed, he twisted to drop her on the bedcovers.

He allowed no pause: he knew she wouldn’t want it. So he drove in faster as she squealed, laughing and laughing until the sensation of hot water poured down his spine wrenched his own release from him with a tight grip, and he spilled into her again and again as she arched beneath him.

“Don’t stop,” Jesminda begged. “Don’t stop.” Pawing at his bare back, the sting of broken skin hissed across him - he obeyed despite the protest of sensitivity between his legs, feeling the drip of his seed between them until she came again.

Lucien groaned as he slowed, feeling as though she’d milked out his very soul from him: his hair had fallen around them, braids coming loose as her fingers tangled lazily around them. He lowered his head to her chest, and despite the tunic between them, he pressed his lips to her left side where her heart beat; thumping steadily and rapid. Matching his.

“I suppose I promised you supper,” she mumbled, some time later, and his huff of laughter blew the stray hair from in front of his face.

“I feel very satisfied, I can promise you that,” he told her, and rolled to the side. Jesminda kicked off her pants the rest of the way with a groan before flopping onto her side, her cheek against his chest and fingers splaying over his shoulder. His back was to the panelled wall, and though it was rather cold against his backside, Lucien held her close and willed the fire in him to keep the chill of night from creeping in.

It had grown dark in the house. Only the banked fire in the stove glowed orange, silver smoke from the cooking pot visible before dissipating into the air. Shadows made their cozy home beneath the table, around the bed, in the corners away from the windows - still, he nuzzled his nose against her hairline, and hummed. The words to the tune fell in his mind like crackling leaves, and Jesminda stirred next to him as if hearing it, too -

“Hear me now, oh bride of flaming firelight, Bride of flaming firelight Hear... Take me to your warm and cozy hearth, Warm and cozy hearth Hear... Love me through the banked and dusty soot-prints Kiss me through the ripe and raging wildfires Marry me in a slip of ash and embers Hear…”

“I heard a new verse to that a few days back,” she said when his voice had faded, and he tilted his chin to see the dimness that had turned her brown hair and brown eyes black as the night sky.

“Oh?” His thumb brushed her shoulder, and her answering grin flashed white. Jesminda cleared her throat, and walked the tips of her fingers up his chest as she sang aloud,

“Hear me now, oh son of beams and sunlight, Son of beams and sunlight Hear... Take me to your quiet bed and warm me, Quiet bed and warm me Hear... Love me through the cold before sunrise Kiss me through the hush of every dark eclipse Marry me in a vest of gold silk threads Hear…”

“I’ve never heard that verse before,” Lucien admitted.

“No? I heard it from a passing trader from the Day Court.”

“Mmm.” It was quiet for a moment as she settled back in against him. Shadows were for secrets, and in a low voice with his heart hammering so loud he might have dislodged the house entirely: “I think of you, you know. The bride of flaming firelight.”

Jesminda’s response was a soft, huffing laugh. “I’m no bride, Lucien. And I think whomever I marry one day will find it difficult to convince me to marry in - what is it? A slip of soot?”

“It would be wildly fun,” he insisted, and she just laughed more as he pressed her back into the bed. His feet were growing numb from hanging off the edge, but still he grinned down at her, smoothing down the hairs from around her face. “I’d be the first to volunteer to dress you in soot.”

“By scooping it up with your hands and making me dirty?”

“Yes,” Lucien said. “Exactly.” He took a nip out of her nose, which she scrunched to push him away.

“I’m starving,” Jesminda said as she rose from the bed, and his attention riveted on her bare legs as she lifted her tunic up and over her head - oh, his father’s soldiers could arrive at the base of the tree this house was built in right at this exact moment and he wouldn’t move a muscle. Her hair fell down her back and she shook it out, as if knowing he was watching, knowing the sweep of his gaze over her every curve. “Hungry?” she said in a crooning voice, glancing back over her shoulder.

“For you,” he croaked back.

“And decline this delicious stew I made this morning?” she teased. Pulled her hair over her shoulder as she turned slightly, and he saw the peek of blush-colored nipples as she twisted her hair into a rope.

“Then you can be my dessert.”

“How very polite of you to wait.”

“Trust me, Jes,” Lucien said darkly. “I don’t want to wait.”

She knew - of course she knew - and she sauntered over to the stove to pull bowls from the painted cabinets that hung on the wall. Standing on her toes put her backside on full, glorious, tempting display, and he groaned to feel himself growing hard again. Already. Already.

It made for a rather tense supper: Jesminda beckoned him to the stove with the crook of her finger and Lucien hobbled across the tree house to sit on the rugs there, heat from the coals making him even warmer. And when she sat down in front of him in all her naked magnificence, he barely understood what he was eating. Knees knocked together, and it did not escape him that her nipples were pebbled taut.

But she gave no indication of what thrummed through her body.

“Delicious,” Lucien croaked out after a few moments.

“Do you even know what you’re eating?” Jesminda asked blandly, and rightly so: she must have known his distraction. She didn’t even look up from her own meal.

“Does it matter?” he countered. Grinned as she lifted her head with her hair framing her face so prettily. Her lips pursed, anyway, as she poked her spoon around her own bowl.

“It’s always good manners to compliment the cook,” she told him in a soft voice.

“The cook has my sincerest admiration,” Luciuen said gravely. Attempted a courtly bow over his bowl, but he was naked and sitting cross-legged and he only ended up making her laugh. Then, “I’m leaving tomorrow for the Winter Court.”

She paused, a spoonful halfway to her mouth, and then set it back in the bowl. He couldn’t quite read the expression in her eyes; the room was too dim, and her face too still. But then she smiled - it didn’t reach her eyes. “Take me with you,” Jesminda said, likely meaning it to be flippant, but he heard only the echoing ache in her voice that he felt every time he left this house -

“I wish I could,” Lucien said - not quite the truth. A few of his brothers were going as well. He wouldn’t subject her to them. Rather he thought that he wished it was safe to take her. Safe, and that they were free.

“Why can’t you?”

“You aren’t packed,” he teased.

“Why would I need to?” Jesminda challenged, and he was relieved to hear a laugh chasing her words. “Won’t they simply dress me in furs like the lady I am?”

“They might try,” Lucien inclined his head towards her bare breasts. “But then again, they might recognize a lost cause when they see one.”

“A lost cause,” she repeated.

“Don’t get me wrong,” he pointed his spoon in her direction, unable to keep from grinning at her indignant expression, “I enjoy your discontent with clothing. But the Winter Court might think differently. You might think differently when you start losing toes to frostbite.”

“Mmm.” Jesminda hummed, eyes still on his face as she took another bite, scraping out the broth from her bowl. “It might be worth it, simply to ensure that none of those lovely females up north entice you into their beds.”

Lucien’s lips twitched, but he kept up the teasing, “I’m sure they’d only be trying to be polite - ”

“And there would be nothing remotely polite about what I’d do to you afterwards,” she told him sweetly, and as if a winter wind was caressing down his spine - he shivered.

“No female is going to entice me to her bed,” Lucien said, and then frowned. “Unless…”

Jesminda’s brows rose, and in her eyes the fire that consumed rather than warmed: the kind that left only blackened earth and ashes in its wake -

“Unless she belongs to the Autumn Court, has hair the color of rich oak bark and her name is Jesminda,” he finished, and he gave a laugh at the annoyance that flitted across her face. “Really - you think I’d be unfaithful?”

“No,” she grumbled. Reached up to set her bowl atop a counter. “But then again, I don’t know the temptations all of Prythian has to offer.”

“There is not a single one that compares to you,” Lucien said, and he meant it. Though his supper was only half-finished, he put his bowl aside, too. In earnest he wrapped his fingers around her elbows to haul her closer, but her limbs were stiff. “Jes. Jes - there is no one else for me. There’s only you.”

That softened her somewhat. She allowed him to pull her close, and he hoisted her into his lap in front of that stove. She was even warmer than the fire, as she looped her arms around his neck. But she didn’t smile, not yet. So Lucien tucked some hair behind her ear, and let his fingertips trail down her throat. Then,

“There’s no one else for me, either,” Jesminda whispered, and it made his heart beat madly in his chest. He smiled, considering counting all the freckles across her face - but her soft body pressed to his was driving another need inside of him, which she could likely feel against her.

“Bride of flaming firelight,” Lucien murmured. “You’ll be my bride, won’t you, Jes?”

She frowned. A pause, as if every unhappy conversation that had happened between them had suddenly come to the surface. As if she was sorting through every threat, every danger - to calculate. But it wasn’t cunning in her wide eyes, the yearning he saw there.

“Someday,” she said, and placed her palm against his cheek. “Someday, Lucien, I’ll be your bride, and I'll bear you a dozen firelings.”

Someday.

#lucien vanserra #lucien x jesminda #jesminda #acotar

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spc4eva · 4 years ago

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Mandokar: Chapter Four

I’m weak willed y’all. Enjoy the years flying by. *cries in hopeless romantic* I couldn’t stop myself - HERE HAVE IT.

Summary: The years make the heart grow fonder. But the Empire looms on the horizon and they’ll not leave any planet untouched.

Word Count: 17,673

Rating: M (+18) latter part of the chapter contains full on smut - praise kink, the helmets stay on, dirty talking, unprotected, vaginal, and fingering

Warning: mentions of questionable consent for touching and coercion past comfort

Cross Posted on AO3

Masterlist

Din was the first to return. He'd not really been expecting it to go any other way, but he had sort of hoped that Sena might be waiting, gracing him with a middle finger and arrogant helmet tilt. Instead, he knelt before the Elders in the Foundry as he handed over the supplies purchased with the credits from his hunt. Shustii, the only other mando who did not wear a helmet amongst the council, creased a smile amongst her wrinkles.

"You have impressed the Tribe, Djarin," her trembling elderly voice announced, speaking for the group. His own eyes went to Rhenx, whom he had always admired, but it was always Shustii who gave him attention. "You are the first to return from your Trial and with a bountiful harvest. For your success, you shall move forward in your training."

Din bowed his head respectfully, pausing in the position, before coming back up mechanically. Waiting for his dismissal, it was given when Shustii nodded, allowing for him to get back to his feet. The Armorer stepped forward and acquired his offering before he turned around, departing from the Foundry. While he was proud to be the first one back, he also didn't think the job had been that difficult. His bounty had all but sobbed at his feet, begging not to be taken in. Up to his eyeballs in debt, the man knew he was going to be killed or forced into servitude. None of that was Din's problem. It was a job and the man had done this to himself.

He wondered what the rest of his vod were up to, trying to silently place his bets on the order in which they'd return. He banked on Sena being a close contender, followed by Kedth and Xivi (who had decided to wait until she was 17 to go on her hunt). He was absolutely astonished to see Aya return next, but quickly realized that it wasn't because she had been successful. Over the years, since her loss to Sena, she'd cut herself off more from the rest of the group. He didn't pity her, as he took his own solace on not always being a part of the main crowd, but they were opposites. He took his part in the Tribe very seriously and Aya did not try. Most of her peers disliked her, Din included, because of what she'd done after the end of her duel. The mando had never apologized for it and Sena was quite popular within their class and outside of it with hunters around her brother's age. If she had just apologized, her luck might've been much better.

From the sag of her shoulders and the uneasy amount of time she was locked in the Foundry, Din knew she had failed. Noticing her departure at dusk, he could hear her cries coming out from her vocoder as she dejectedly wandered off. People who failed were allowed to try again when they were older and would eventually be assigned duties around the covert. Since they were not talented enough to manage easy bounties, they would be put to better use in doing things like cooking, raising the Foundlings, and supply requisitions. These were not bad jobs, as they were necessary for the Tribe to function, but it had to be a hard pill to swallow - watching your peers move on and being barred behind because of incompetence.

Kedth arrived the following day, brimming with pride, and leaving the Foundry after a short hour of talking with the Elders.

"Who else has come back?" Kedth asked, finding him in the Den.

"Aya failed, but she is the only other one," he answered, feet kicked up on the edge of the hearth table where flames sputtered up from the center.

"Dank farrik, I beat the Vizslas?" Kedth let out a little hoot of victory. "Knew I wasn't gonna beat you, but I expected Sena to be neck and neck with you."

"Depends on where her bounty was," Din shrugged. By this point he assumed it was a lengthy distance, because she wouldn't have taken their bet if she knew she was going to lose. He thumbed something in his pocket, contemplating whether or not after the First Trial was the best time to give it. He'd already noticed Hyvhast eying Sena and after they left normal classes, any of the female mandos would become fair game. It hadn't been his intention to eye up his rival, but he also didn't like the idea of anyone other than himself hunting her.

"Did you hear me Djarin?" Kedth intoned.

"What?" he tilted his visor back, dropping his hand from his pocket.

"I asked who you think is gonna get here next."

He shrugged, unable to levy bets when they had no idea where their vod were in the Outer Rim. They didn't have to wait around too long. Oyiin followed, which began making him anxious. Xivi was next, followed by Vowr, and finally Sena. Everyone had passed and he knew that Vizsla had too by the hefty supplies she dragged with her to the Foundry. Din waited for her to be released, darkness falling over the village before she stepped out of the Foundry, the moonlight catching the golden paint on her armor, lighting it up like a beacon against her dark armor.

"Looks like you lost," he announced smugly.

Sena's helmet turned up toward him, a strange, uncharacteristic line in her shoulders as she just stared. "Whatever," she grumbled and walked away.

He assumed she was just bitter, trotting after her. "Where did your bounty take you?" he inquired casually.

She did not answer, quickening her pace as she carved the path back to the Vizsla house.

This disquieted him. Sena was a blabber mouth, more than eager to talk about her success and paint vivid stories with her words. " Vod ?"

"I don't want to talk about it," her crisp voice was cold and distant.

"Did you fail?" That was the wrong question. Of course she hadn't failed. Din had watched her carrying in her supplies, but he couldn't logically find another reason why she wouldn't just say what happened.

"No."

"Then what-"

"I don't want to talk about it!" she snarled. The Vizsla temper was infamous around the Tribe, but it wasn't often that it was bared. Most knew to be wary of it as Hux had once displayed how terrible their family's temper could be. There were a few times where Paz had threatened to teeter over that delicate edge, but his antagonizers quickly backed off as Big Blue had become the largest person in the Tribe.

He didn't find out why she was so upset until he was sparring with Paz later in the week. Sena had been incredibly quiet compared to usual. While she was amongst her friends, she didn't contribute to the conversation or answer questions as frequently as typical. He parried a thrust, bones ringing beneath his vambrace at the strength in Paz's well placed strike. If he had to guess, this Vizsla also seemed rather irritated.

"Hey," Din muttered once they'd come to a close, his heart pounding his chest, Paz shoving the straw of his water bottle underneath his helmet before greedily drinking. "Are you two alright? Since coming back from the First Trial-" he trailed off, Paz glaring at him and straightening at the suggestion.

"What's it matter to you?" the blue mando asked sharply.

"We're vod ," Din offered poorly.

For a fleeting second, Din thought that Paz was going to pummel him into the ground. Instead, a breath hissed through his vocoder, crackling slightly at the end. "Mission was tough on us," was all he was willing to admit.

The answer was cryptic and Din still didn't comprehend. "Tough quarry?"

"I wish," Paz grumbled. "Just don't bother her about it. She just needs some time to cool down. Ready for another round?"

8BBY

Cooling down took much longer than Din had expected. His thoughts wandered about what had happened that was enough to shake Sena and Paz. Whatever it was, he couldn't even begin to fathom it, but it must've been bad. Training continued as usual and he clung to the small gift he had intended on giving her way longer, until it became just a familiar weight in his pocket, and he shrank back as older hunters began talking to her. Paz was almost always nearby, hovering like a menacing shadow, refusing to allow anyone who wasn't a classmate of hers linger for more than a couple of minutes.

As annoying as that might've been for Sena, Din was thankful for it. Or, he had been until Hyvhast finally broke through her denials and disinterest, officially staking his claim on Sena after their Second Trial. To say that Din was bitter was an absolute understatement, sparing his friend long stares as he noticed keldabe kisses being exchanged between her and Hyvhast. Beyond that, he didn't know what else was going on relationship-wise and felt too peeved (and awkward) to even think about asking her how things were going.

It wasn't permanent was it? Maybe eventually Sena would see that Din was a better hunter and leave behind Hyvhast. He snorted at his dumb thoughts, aware that Hyvhast's unrelenting persistence was the only reason Sena had agreed to court with him. Din Djarin had done nothing to express his feelings toward her. In fact, he'd held onto the gift he'd intended on giving her for two years. Not once had he felt it was the right time to give it to her and come the end of the Second Trial, she was suddenly taken.

He'd grown closer to Paz, not because it suited him, but because he liked the Vizsla. Always willing to help when he had time, Paz made for a great companion and an even better teacher. Din would have been an idiot not to take advantage of the other male's knowledge. They'd gone a few hunts together and out of most people, he found he preferred working with Paz to those he grew up with.

"Where's the Guild that we're headed to?" Paz yawned, cleaning his heavy blaster before the mission, setting the pieces spread on the table in the Vizsla karyai .

"Felucia," Din answered shortly. Wasn't the best planet, in fact it was incredibly humid and sticky, swampy to the point where just walking around town felt as if it soaked you straight through, but the Guild outpost there was remote and nondescript. "Where do you usually go?"

"Dadrus," Paz was cleaning the bolt still with a rag, wiping away the residue before picking up his ale and drinking it through a straw. "Not too bad out there. The Guild Master is fond of Sena, so he tends to give us good pucks."

"Where is she? I haven't seen her around recently," Din commented, trying to sound disinterested and nonchalant.

"She went out tonight," Paz grumbled, his mood shifting immediately.

Oh. Din turned his helmet back down to his ambien rifle and tried to pretend as if that didn't bother him. For a split second, he thought the conversation had been dropped like a hot potato, but Paz picked back up with a sharp intake of breath like he was a bull nerf about to charge.

"Don't understand what she sees in Hyvhast," Paz vented, shoulders pinned tensely as he hunched closer to his weapons. "He's a good hunter, but he's ori'buyce, kih'kovid ."

Din snorted, aware of what he was referencing. Hyvhast had no modesty. Well, that wasn't quite a trait taught amongst Mandalorians, you still acknowledged your Elders and those that were better than you. He didn't spend enough time around Hyvhast to know him too well, but he'd heard the other hunter boasting in the Den before, loudly enough that the rest of the patrons could hear him. He wasn't being brash accidentally, he wanted everyone to hear.

"Never understood why you never made a play at her," Paz remarked between his snippets of insulting Hyvhast.

Din froze, almost dropping the priming pin in his hands at the Vizsla's proclamation. Swallowing hard, he looked over to see the visor fixated on him, undoubtedly Paz locking eyes. Was he saying that he would've allowed it? That he wouldn't be complaining about Din half as much as he did about Hyvhast? Somehow he doubted that. Whoever dated Sena was going to have to deal with the over protective big brother.

The door opened, saving his shebs from having to offer a rebuttal to Paz. Snapping his visor away, finally releasing Din from the power of holding his gaze, he sat up and dropped his charging handle on the table and stood up abruptly. Cocking his head, he turned around to see what was going on, noticing that Sena had returned home for the evening. His heart ached at the sight of her, not noticing the tremble in her shoulders or the quick way she ran to her bedroom.

Paz was at the door just as it closed in his face, causing Din to glance back in confusion. "Sen'ika? Sen'ika open the door or I'm coming in-" his voice dropped, tender and unlike the man that Din knew. Something was wrong and Din hadn't even noticed, but the moment that Paz had laid eyes on his sister it'd taken all but two seconds for him to know. That made his stomach shift uncomfortably, wondering how many times he'd never noticed that she was upset. Maybe he really didn't deserve to court her.

Paz punched the code into the door, an item falling out of his bandolier and catching the door before it closed completely. It jarred it, leaving it open just a breadth, Din staring at it as he heard the conversation he wasn't intended to.

"Sen'ika?"

There was quiet sniffling, followed by the bed squeaking, bucking beneath Paz's weight as he sat on it. "Am I ugly?" she asked her brother quietly, voice unmodulated; her helmet was off. She always had a different accent from everyone else, so articulate and prim (aside from when she cursed) and it made his knees weak even now.

The silence threatened to strangle Din where he sat, wondering if anyone outside her aliit had seen her face. Finally, Paz spoke, "Why would you think that?"

She broke out into more tears. Such an awful noise, each little whimper sending unpleasant stabs down Din's back, his throat parched, and his fingers tightening around the arms of the chair he lounged in.

"Did Hyvhast do something? Did he see-"

"N-no, not beneath my helmet," she hiccuped.

"Then why would you think that? Why would you think you're ugly, princess?" he soothed, his own voice suddenly warmer and unmodulated.

"W-we were fooling around and... you know how I feel about that after what happened on Tatooine-" she choked out, hoarse and tinny. "-but I thought he was nice, s-so I let him. He's been wanting to for weeks now, b-but I wasn't ready. Wh-when he saw beneath my-" she wailed again, Din flinching.

"He saw what?" the edge of fury hissed in Paz's voice, the low growl that would build up into more.

"H-he said I looked like a b-boy. Th-that I have no chest. And then m-my marks-"

"Shh, Sen'ika. He's di’kutla . He'll never know the mesh'la dala beneath the helmet," Paz soothed. "He was never worthy."

"I told you that Anaxians age slower," she whined. "I-I'm still growing. I just thought maybe he would wait a couple more years but-"

"That was never his interest. I warned you about what happens when hunting begins," Paz muttered darkly. "It's not always with the intention of entering riduurok ."

She broke back down into a fit of crying, Din glued to his chair and unable to move for fear of alerting the both of them that he was eavesdropping. From what he garnered, Hyvhast had pressured her into doing things before she was ready and that vexed him. What had happened on Tatooine? What the kriff was an Anaxian? He thought she was Sephi. His memories flipped back to their first time by the moon pool as children, the way she'd climbed the tree and howled at the stars. There had always been something strange about her that he could never quite place his finger on. Part of that mysteriousness had drawn him in.

Now there were other reasons. His fingers thumbed the item in his pocket, clenching tightly around it that the beskar pressed through his gloves and into his skin. She was a loyal member of the Tribe, shouldered her duty, made an amazing hunter, and pulled her weight amongst the Tribe without ever offering a complaint. Aside from her abilities as a Mandalorian, Din thought she was one of the most amusing people he knew. With a mouth like a sailor and goofy to a fault, when she wasn't being serious about her work, she was fun to be around... easy to be around. And tolerable. More than tolerable by this point. Din liked spending time with her, even if that just meant practicing in the yard. They'd done that a lot less recently.

Then there was the fact that the both of them had come from similar backgrounds, ripped away from their homes amongst war and battle. Neither had spoken much about it, other than acknowledging that there would always be those memories before they were Mandalorian.

Hearing his friend cry broke something in him, each little sniffle like the a kal in his chest, prodding him again at her despair. Wasn't often you heard Mandalorians cry, let alone someone as chipper as Sena. She was so kriffing stubborn and prideful that she'd suffered being bullied as a kid because she was unwilling to balk or bend. The only person who seemed to see the emotional side of her was her brother. And in a way, Din was betraying her trust by continuing to listen.

Eventually, Paz got up and headed for the door. He paused, freezing when he saw what had caught in the door, picking it up before heading out and shutting the bedroom with a hydraulic hiss. Din jolted, visor locking with the blue Mandalorian's, wondering what was about to happen.

"Did you-" Paz started.

Din nodded.

" Hukaat'kama ," he ordered, striding out of the house.

Reassembling his rifle, he slung it over his back and sauntered after Paz. There was no question as to where he was going. Night basked them as they stalked their way past the Foundry and toward the Den. Paz's shoulders were set back, chest puffed out, and he moved as if they were on a bounty hunting mission. Halting outside the entrance, Paz rounded so quickly that Din threw his hands up defensively, uncertain if he was about to become the man's fixation while he saw red.

"Go in first. Ping me once you set eyes on him. If I go in, there will be no doubt why I'm there," Paz handed over a small comlink. He didn't need to say the name of the person he was referring to. Din was blatantly aware that they were there for Hyvhast.

Taking the comlink, Din nodded and stepped by him, entering the Den. Set down a few steps in another dome shaped building, the lighting was dim and most was procured by the hearth tables. Small, simulated flames leapt up in the center, horseshoe shaped benches surrounding tables where various mandos put their black ale. A rambunctious group was collected to the far right, his eyes immediately finding the earthen brown armor of Hyvhast which was accentuated with moss green stripes. He was tall and lean, about Din's height, though not as broad. Caught in an animated conversation, Din slid over into a table just flanking to see what it was they were saying.

"So you're not with her anymore?" Mirrair asked, a mando in dusty orange beskar'gam.

"Kriff no! Look, she's a great hunter and has mandokarla , but she's got the body of a 12 year old boy. Hard to tell beneath the armor. Was a huge turn off," Hyvhast announced, immediately met with an awkward silence from his companions. "What? You guys think I'm wrong?"

"Well, she's Sephi, isn't she? Don't they, um, age differently?" Loah was a female mando in tan armor, a few black swirls decorating her helmet.

"If she's got mandokarla , what does it matter if she's flat-chested? You think you're going to find a female mando with a rack here? We're all athletic," Jiabe spoke up, just as affronted as Loah, crossing her arms over her cuirass defensively.

"There's not only that," Hyvhast backpedaled quickly. "She had there weird gold marks all over her skin - almost like tattoos, but they glowed-" Din pressed the comlink, not willing to listen to the bastard detail any more of his friend's body. Especially when his audience was also just as uncomfortable with the subject.

"She's not human," Jiabe stood up, her voice rising. "Where is she? What did you say to her?"

Hyvhast jetted to his feet to meet her challenge. "She went running home. Couldn't take a little honesty."

Jiabe barked a harsh laugh. "Oh you're absolutely shab . Did you really think that Paz wouldn't find out about this?" She jammed her finger in between where the sides of Hyvhast's armor met, hitting flesh. "Who do you think you are? Hunting a vod and then laughing at her, talking to the rest of us about what is beneath her armor? I could give a womp rat's ass how much you supply for the Tribe. Not only have you insulted Clan Vizsla, but you've insulted ever dala in the Tribe."

"Jiabe you're overreacting-" Hyvhast tried to placate her as if calling her hysterical was the right move.

It was not.

Jiabe's fist flew out, catching the man underneath his helmet and directly into his jaw. A sickening crack indicated that something had broken as he flew back, colliding with the back of the couch he had been standing in front of. " Ni cetar'narir kay'shebs ," she threatened, stretching her fingers just as Paz busted into the Den, causing everyone's helmet except for Jiabe's to turn.

"Hyvhast!" Paz howled, shaking the room with the boom of his voice.

The mando only groaned on the couch, still dazed from Jiabe's hook. She had his collar now, dragging his sorry shebs out of the booth and into the aisle where she dumped him to meet the Vizsla. "Think you're looking for this jayc'kovid . Might've stolen the first punch from you," she informed him, glaring down at Hyvhast as he started coming to. "Think I broke his jaw."

Paz was livid, but he did glance over at her slightly in confusion. "Wha-"

"He was talking osik about your vod . No one has the right to express what they see beneath the beskar'gam, even if they do not like it. He affronted all dala in the Tribe by doing so and ridiculing her. But... he insulted Clan Vizsla first. If you wish to repay me for what I have stolen, I shall take it," Jiabe offered honorably, squaring up to him without fear.

" Nayc ," Paz disagreed immediately. " Vor entye . Help me take him out back and we'll call it even."

Honor was pinnacle in the Tribe and as Jiabe had said, Hyvhast had been impudent to assume that betraying the nature of what was beneath the beskar'gam - something so sacred to all of them - with the addition of his audacity to remark about a lack of a chest, was highly insulting to other women who might be self conscious about their features. Din had never really considered it, seeing that everyone except for the Foundlings were in armor, but supposed that Jiabe was right. All the women, except for the retired and elderly, would be physically fit and might not have much of a chest. He'd never particularly found himself staring at Sena's iron heart. That wasn't what was attractive about her.

Paz and Jiabe dragged Hyvhast out as if he were a bag of garbage, undoubtedly for another beat down before they'd dump his shebs at the Med-Deck. His mind went back to the conversation and the fact that Sena had said Anaxian and not Sephi.

"Want anything?" Voormi was behind the bar this evening, gesturing to the only thing they had on tap - black ale.

"I've got a question," he proposed, receiving a nod from her. "Do you know what Anaxians are?"

"Anaxians?" she rocked back on her heels, tilting her lime green helmet as she hummed quietly to herself. "Race, I think. Anaxes used to be a planet before it got turned to rubble in an accident. Don't think it was much of an accident though. Empire was invading the planet."

I snuck up on a stormtrooper and slit his throat...

Those words echoed in his head, thinking back to their blade lessons years ago. Had Naboo been invaded by the Empire? He didn't really know much about what had happened all those years ago, being secluded on Vorp'ya without listening to the adults talking about the news.

"What were they like?"

"Anaxians? Dunno. There were a few native races to that planet. One was reptilian and the other... I think they were sub-human. Can't say. They never traveled off planet, so it's likely they were wiped out entirely when the planet exploded," Voomri shrugged, polishing the counter mindlessly. "Do you want a drink?"

"I'm fine," Din pushed himself to his feet, thinking about the new knowledge. Was it possible that Sena belonged to one of these races? He didn't think she was Reptilian and if he thought really hard, she might've mumbled something once or twice about being a Sephi offshoot and not actually Sephi. Anaxian? Golden markings on her skin? She had markings on her helmet, he wondered if those were supposed to be in relation to what was on her skin. He felt his breath quicken in his chest, imagining beneath the flight suit for a brief moment, the glow of golden teardrops...

Chewing his lip he started for the edge of the village, trekking across the moonlit grass, over the hills and toward the pond shaded by the ancient tree. Cresting the last rise, he froze when she saw a small figure sitting by the edge, legs drawn up to her chest, chin of her helmet on top of her knees as her visor gazed out toward the water which rippled peacefully from a wind that swept down from the moors. The leaves of the tree rustled like breathy chimes, the breeze picking at the edge of her braid and sighing deeply.

Sliding down the hill, he approached her carefully, as not to disturb her, but she sat up and glanced back. He could be stealthy when he wanted, but she'd always been the best out of their entire class. She could move soundlessly, despite how much equipment she was wearing.

"Hey," she offered simply, turning back to the water to continue staring at it, diving back into her thoughts.

Din padded up and sat down beside her, his own visor listing in the direction that she was looking. He wanted to tell her that Hyvhast was blind and an idiot. That he'd never deserved anyone as amazing as her. That he was getting his shebs kicked by Jiabe and Paz. But he didn't. Instead, he just watched the way the moonlight refracted on the mirror surface and wondered what she might look like without any beskar'gam on, wading into the water, the ethereal light playing tricks against her skin. Her hand was tan, he remembered that from when she'd challenged Aya; a deep, coppery tan. Paz knew what she looked like and had called her mesh'la . Those hadn't just been words of comfort, Din actually believed them.

"You alright?" he asked finally after a few minutes of blissful quiet.

Sena rolled her shoulders in a nonchalant shrug. "I'll get over it," she grumbled, the normal inflection of her voice returning. Din liked her voice, he always had found the articulate accent alluring. As she'd gotten older, it had gotten deeper and less whiny, replaced with a smooth alto, pleasantly curling in his ears with each word. He wished the one time he had heard it without the modulator, she hadn't been crying.

He didn't bring up the subject, didn't pressure her to talk, he only sat there with her, lending her a sense of companionship that went deeper than conversing. After all, she had already told Paz and it wasn't his place to try and force the story out of her. Time dragged on, a soft sigh parting from her lips finally as she contemplated what had happened. Din's hand was in his pocket, thumbing the charm, before he pulled it out. The moonlight hit the beskar Jai'galaar eyes strung on a leather strap. So many years in his pocket, polished constantly from the soothing manner in which he'd palmed it when he thought about his friend.

"Sena-" he cleared his throat, freezing when she sat up to glance over at him.

"Hm?"

"Paz wanted me to give this to you," he said stupidly, lifting up the necklace. "He said it might make you feel better." Maker almighty, why did he say that? Why couldn't he just tell her that he had gotten it for her? She was still recovering from what had happened with Hyvhast and while this felt like the right moment to give it to her, it also felt like the wrong moment to be honest as to why.

She reached up, her gloves brushing lightly against his, causing his skin to tingle underneath as little electric pinpricks lanced up to his elbow. " Jai'galaar eyes?" she muttered, finally taking it. "How befitting-" he could hear the wry smile in her voice as she rolled her shoulders back and cracked them, stringing the necklace around her throat, which was obscured by the collar of her armorweave.

His heart was thumping wildly, as if he were being chased by a mythosaur, while he watched it plunk softly against her durasteel heartplate. The length of the strap dropped it low enough to reach her iron heart. Turning it over in her glove again she shook her head wistfully.

" Kaysh mirsh solus ," she commented. "Not surprised. We Vizslas all have lonely brain cells. He could've just given this to me later."

Din chuckled quietly at her joke. The Tribe did joke lovingly about their nerf-headedness, but Clan Vizsla was well loved despite the teasing. They were a clan of admirable warriors, all of which pulled more than their fair share for the Tribe. "Seems it did do the job."

"Of what?" she tilted her visor back up, her voice reading as confused through his visor.

"Cheering you up," Din pointed out, smiling now.

" Lek well-" she unfurled her legs and stretched her arms straight out above her head. Like a loth-cat in the sun, she shook out the tenseness in her muscles before keeping her legs kicked out, putting palms back on her knees. "Nothing for me to dwell on. Paz was right. Again." Hopping to her feet as if it were the easiest thing to do, she offered him a hand up. "Race you back?" The proposition was an old one, like they were little kids again coming to practice beneath the moonlight. There had been many times where Din had attempted to climb the tree with as much dexterity as her and had jammed his finger.

Gripping her forearm, he was wrenched to his feet, glancing up the steep hill. " Elek -" they both bolted off, Din getting to higher ground before Sena. She wasn't far behind, closing the distance with her dark pine green cloak snapping after her like an angry bird's wing. They were beskar and durasteel javelins against the grass. Just as she had done when they were younger, she let out the strange sort of baying yip, which caused Din to trip over his own feet and go down hard in the grass. Rounding and absolutely howling with laughter, she clutched her stomach as he tried to untangle himself from his cloak. Before he could even say anything, she turned back around and continued - with her lead - back to the village.

Din thrashed before managing to spring back to his feet, but it was too late. He'd given her too much time and she had vanished into the night. Grousing to himself, he wasn't entirely upset that he had lost, pleased that she had recovered in light of the awful evening she'd had until that point. He wondered if the animal cry she kept making was from Anaxes.

2BBY

"And then a giant bird swooped down from the sky and gnashed its beak. OMNOMNOM! " Sena roared, snapping her fingers to mimic a bird's impressive beak and digging it playfully toward the tummies of the Foundlings that surrounded her in a horseshoe formation. Her duties in watching the children had long since passed now that she was a fully fledged hunter and provider for the Tribe. However, she did like to stop by after missions and greet them with candy and treats she had picked up from whatever planet she visited. Usually the flavors and types changed, which always thrilled the little womp rats.

Giggling and squealing ensued as she tickled them, before they realized they could overwhelm her in one fell move. Tackling her to the ground, piling in a heap, she was pinned to the ground. Even if she'd finally stopped growing after all these years, she still was barely 45 kilos soaking wet. A dozen children were more than enough to take her out of commission.

" Ori'vod ! Where's our candy?" a gap tooth child demanded, as if she'd forget.

"Oh, I totally forgot," Sena betrayed whimsically, the children shrieking like jai'galaar at her confession.

"You didn't forget. It's right here," Zim held up the bag, now 15, and donning a helmet of his own. His lekku poked out from the modified bucket and he had painted it the same colors that Sena originally had hers - plum and dull yellow. "Back you beasts! I'll give it to you if you release our Ori'vod !"

The little zombies abandoned her, trailing after Zim who was on Foundling duty. Sena sat up, chuckling as he began tossing the candy, letting it rain down above them, distracting the little brats.

"You spoil them too much," Din commented, having just entered the Nursery to see the war raging. Sena tilted her head back from where she was laying on the floor.

"Oh lek ? What have you got in that bag behind your back?" she challenged, snickering as he tucked it behind his cloak as if he were ashamed that she'd caught him bringing treats for the kids. "Nice to see you, vod . How was your hunt?"

Din trotted down to help her to her feet. She dusted her armor off, frowning at all the scratches and dents on it. Since it wasn't pure beskar, came with the territory. Needed a good repainting. Beskar was harder to come by now with the Empire still being a load of osik . "Not too bad. Nearly threw my shoulder out since the bounty was trandoshan-" he let out a soft noise, which she knew was a laugh, his modulator never really picked it up right. "And you? Seems the candy is a hit this time."

This time. The last planet she'd gone to she hadn't bothered to taste the candy first. If she had, she would have realized it was flavored like krill and squid. Yeah, she'd felt quite bad as the kids began spitting out the gummies and gave her the most reproachful looks. Since then, she always made certain to try the sweets before committing to buying a bag full. "Easy enough... Well, actually-" she drew in a long winded breath. "-Jace gave me a bit more trouble than usual. Was trying to keep me on Dadrus longer than usual. He's always flirted with me, but it was really strange-"

"Need me to give your Guild Master a stern talking to?" Din gestured to his blaster.

Sena gave a good natured laugh. Din had nearly become part of Clan Vizsla by this point. He was close to her brother and went on quite a few hunts with him. She preferred to work alone, since Paz was way too kriffing loud. Their rivalry, while still there, had turned into a deep friendship that she wouldn't trade for anything in the galaxy. It was different than Xivi and her other friends. Din just... understood. They didn't even have to talk about, there was comfort in the silent nights by the moon pool just contemplating their lives. "Oh, no. He's a good person. Just a chatterbox."

"You say that as if you're not," Din pointed out.

"I'm not when I'm out in the field," she grumbled with a petulant frown. Sena liked to believe she was imposing, mysterious, and intimidating when she went out - armed to the teeth and speaking in short sentences. Maybe not. She did talk to Jace quite a bit since she'd known him for years now and still thought he was cute. The man had tried a few times to convince her to sleep with him, but Sena wasn't about to mix work with pleasure. Bad for business. Not to mention she'd sort of taken a step away from that life for now, focusing on doing her job, and not repeating what had happened with Hyvhast. Even if she'd grown into her skin now, she still felt highly insecure about her Goddess Markings as Hyvhast had poked at them and asked her what the kriff they were.

"What have you got for us, Ori'vod ?" a child had taken notice of Din now, standing in the play area.

Din pulled the bag out and opened it, crouching down to reveal little toys in the shape of little fish. Each was about the size of a child's palm and brilliantly painted. "They're-"

BOOM!

The Nursery shook, children screaming around them as they huddled close to the nearest armored warrior. Sena had several clutching her legs, trembling as their helmets snapped toward the door. Instincts kicking in, Sena whipped her head to Zim who dropped the bag of remaining candy. "Get the children to the back door, wait until our command to beeline for the extraction point," she barked, thrusting a comlink into Zim's hands before she slipped out of the grasp of the kids. Din was beside her, sprinting for the door as they drew their weapons.

The covert was consumed in absolute chaos. Imperial ships were descending from the grey sky, a convoy of troopers having already landed and prowling through the streets. They had been taken by surprise, Mandalorians quickly making their stands and barking orders in Mando'a as they tried to grab onto a semblance of cohesion and shake away the confusion. This only took a few minutes, as they were all trained in military tactics and how to react in situations like this. There was a strict set of instructions ingrained in everyone's mind from Foundling to Elder.

Trainees or Vod'ika would rally up the Elders and Foundlings. The youngest hunters, beneath the age of 21 would act as escorts and leaders, taking leash on their biggest ship the Cabur. Once the young and old were on the ship, they would get into hyperspace while the remainder of the Tribe protected them. Both Din and Sena were older than 21 and thus would act as soldiers on the field to protect the future of the Tribe.

Her blood rushed, the sight of the stormtroopers bringing back the memories of Anaxes, her heart pounding steadily like a war drum. She'd murder them all. Kill them, revive them, then kill them again for what they'd done to not only Genmaris, but now the Tribe. The shootout began, they needed to get around the back of the Nursery and clear the path for Zim to escape with the children. Raising her pistol, she shot the nearest snow white soldier in the face, aiming purposely for his eyes. She could wield a rifle or shotgun now if she pleased, but she'd always liked the pistol better. The years of practicing only with the sidearm had made her a spectacular shot. In a close combat arena like this, Sena was in her element.

" Hukaat'kama! " she called to Din, drawing Cu'Sith and Pog-Sticker.

" Oya !" he shouted back between the ringing of blaster fire and explosions.

She had never forgotten the way they had spilled blood on the elas stone. The blood of a peaceful people who lived in the forest. Or the way she'd walked through it barefoot. Moving like a dervish, she dashed forward with primal rage, the curve of her swords - now beskar - reaving through the plastoid armor as if it were made of butter. They were slow, sloppy, and weaker than the soldiers from a decade ago. These were not clone troopers. Nor did they speak Mando'a. Grinning at the realization, she ducked gracefully, cutting the soleus on the back of the trooper's exposed calf. She heard a cry, watched him stumble forward, and then beheaded him.

Her vindication was not uncommon amongst the Tribe, just one of the most brutal and bloody. She spotted her brother letting off his heavy blaster, mowing down troopers. Despite how well they seemed to be doing, it all came down to supplies. How long would it be until they ran out of energy and ammo? Before a tidal wave of white snow weathered them down in a blizzard that they couldn't dig themselves out of? They had to flee, because there were several more dropships coming. But most importantly, the children needed to escape.

She sliced down a few more troopers before racing back around the Nursery, Din covering her as they began clearing the path for the children. The ships were stowed beneath ground, in a hangar that would part the grass and open. They had been on Vorp'ya for many years now and continued to upgrade their home to make it more difficult to be discovered. Didn't seem to matter now. Pulling her comlink, she spoke briskly in Mando'a, " Bring them out. We're clear for now ."

" Roger ," Zim answered, the door opening. Lined up and hands linked, the children had also been trained on what to do. They were to stay together in a chain, holding onto the leader, which was Zim.

Other trainees had begun posting, fleeing the main fight to help keep the path to the ships open. There was no time to feel the pride of their unflinching resolve, but the kids were doing what they were trained to do. Despite how loud, how terrifying it all was, the young Mandalorians spoke in hand signals, bringing up the rear before entering the bunker entrance that led down below to the ships. Zim disappeared and Sena rounded as the last of the Elders were escorted below. Her eyes trailed back up to see how many ships there were, horrified as she and Din took up defensive positions around the hangar doors. This would be their last stand area. She wished she had the time to retrieve her traps from her home, but this was a surprise attack.

Eventually, the rest of the Tribe began to fall back to the hangars, the first ship, the Cabur departing with the children and elderly. Sucking her teeth, she hoped there would still be enough time and coverage for more of them to escape off planet. But as she watched, she grit her teeth, wanting nothing more than to kill than hide. That's what would happen after this, they would hide away again. The number falling back was pitiful and Sena's heart plummeted in horror. Paz was dragging their buir beside him, some - but not all - of the injured fleeing into the tunnels. They weren't going to be able to escape, not with this many drop ships coming in.

"Look!" Kedth pointed toward the sky, ships zooming down to meet the Imperial ships. Who they were, she had no idea, not until they started to jet out of the droppers with jetpacks. Sena had never been so happy to see foreign Mandalorians as she was now, choking out a thankful sob. Continuing to fight through the avalanche of stormtroopers, the ceaseless flow of them started to weather down, the verdant grass spattered with red, downtrodden beyond the point of recognition.

The other mandos were beginning to approach them, thanking the Maker that someone knew about them and had come to their support. A tug on the back of her cloak made her turn, the weary smile disappearing immediately when she saw the terse line of her brother's shoulders. Panic set in, replacing the original thrill of battle, remembering that her buir had been injured when he arrived. Stomach churning, she sprinted after him, down the stars and to where the injured were being tended. Her eyes stretched wide, watching the blood pool beneath her adopted father from a gash in his side where the heartplate did not meet.

Collapsing in a heap beside him, she pressed her gloves to his wound in a futile attempt to staunch the flow. He had lost too much and the majority of the bacta had been taken with the Foundlings and Elders. "No! You can't! Not you too!" her voice betrayed her, cracking as she saw the visage of her papa turning around, the golden lightsaber illuminating his hands as he marched to his death. Hux had become her father, the man that had finished raising her and in every way, her papa now. Everything that she had become was thanks to Hux, his steady hand, his temper, and his love.

"Stay strong, cyar'ika ," he muttered, voice distant and fading, cracked and weak. "I'm so proud. So proud of the warriors that I raised."

Paz was beside her now, fallen to his knees as they had their final moments with their buir .

"You know... the place, Paz. Sova's beskar'gam ... my beskar'gam ... inheritance," he was struggling to talk now, his chest rising and falling shallowly, a soft groan parting his lips beneath his helmet. Paz leaned forward, removing it so that they could look upon their father, see the light in his icy eyes. Pale blonde hair was striked with grey now, the faint line of a golden beard against his jaw. His lashes were heavy, fluttering open just enough gaze at them, a faint smile gracing his features. "Love you. I love the both of you."

A primal, animalistic cry escaped her as Hux closed his eyes for the final time. Paz leaned against her, pressing her face into his pauldron as she sobbed as hard as she had when she was a princess fleeing Anaxes. Maybe even harder. She couldn't hear anything but her own misery. How many people would die around her that she loved? All because of the Empire. This was the Empire's fault! Her hatred redoubled, unaware that she could hate something even more and with every fiber of her being. They sat there on the cold floor, grieving for their fallen buir and for the others that had lost their lives in the assault. Hux was not the only one.

Amongst the fallen was Aya, Vowr, Xaevo, Vhic, Bhone, Crehl, Khaan, Durr, the Smith, and Drold. Their bodies were lined up in the hangar, resting in their eternal vigil, going up to Manda. Despite the honor it was to fall in battle, Sena couldn’t help but feel as if it had all been a waste. So much training, so much love in the Tribe and the Empire tried to smote them from the galaxy. They hadn’t done anything. They had kept their noses out of anything Imperial. Not anymore. Sena wasn’t going to let them walk away from this.

“Sen’ika,” Paz was just as hoarse as she was, but they were standing in the Kote. “What buir was referring to was his riduur ’s armor. My mother-” he opened a panel to reveal the full suit of plum beskar’gam . “He always intended for you to inherit it one day. Just as you inherited her helmet.”

Sena gazed at it, all beskar, and in need of a good repaint. Her fingers slid against it, the feminine curve of the heart plate, the ensemble of pauldrons, cuisse, and greaves. The vambraces were missing and when she glanced at her own arms, she comprehended why. She hadn’t realized that Hux had given her Sova’s vambraces after her Second Trial. She had just assumed that there was beskar to spare for the newest hunters to forge their vambraces since they were so important. Licking her lips, she tilted her visor up toward her brother. “The other mandos here-”

“They came from Mandalore. They are looking for help. The Empire is attempting to take the smaller planets in the system first before attacking Manda’yaim .”

“I’m going,” Sena decided without hesitation. “I’m going to fight.”

Paz’s shoulders slumped slightly, the defeat of losing their father and now the idea of losing his sister too heavy for even his broad, masculine figure. But he did not try to convince her otherwise. “Too many died today. They will need guidance-”

“ Ori’vod you don’t need to explain to me why the Tribe needs you. I know they need you. I do not think any less than you, but… you understand why I must go,” Sena was picking up the armor now, beginning to replace her durasteel with Sova’s - no… it was hers not by right. “Twice now. Twice. Only this time I can fight. I can help. I will not turn my back on another battle with them. Not now. Not ever again.”

“You will bring much honor to the Tribe,” he announced, but he was choked up, grabbing her and thrusting his helmet against hers. There was an unspoken acknowledgement, the fact that they both knew that Sena probably wasn’t coming back.

“I will keep in contact with you if I can. I’ll send transmissions to the Kote ,” she promised, the words hollow on the back of her throat as she said them. “ Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum, ori’vod .”

“ Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum ,” he returned. “You better come back. I need nieces and nephews running underfoot one day. With those stupid pointed ears just like yours.”

Sena barked a laugh that was halfway in between a sob. After shedding her durasteel armor, mismatched, she embraced her brother once more before heading down the dock. The hangar was a makeshift base of operation as the injured were tended and the other Mandalorians commented about how the planet was going to be overwhelmed soon. They needed to pick up and leave immediately. The Tribe was unwilling to help, picking up the fractured pieces of their people, weeping for those who were now marching. Legs churned mechanically, she glanced over at Din as he bowed before his buir who was just as still as her own. Lower lip quivering, she decided to say her farewell to her friend.

Placing a hand on his back, she crouched beside him, his visor snapping as he tensed immediately. It took him a moment to see clearly, to finally see that it was her. And then he glanced down at the plum beskar’gam and eventually back up to her visor. “I’m leaving,” she told him calmly. Such a strange calm, like the eye of the storm before the hurricane hit. “I am going to fight for Manda’yaim .”

Din did not speak. She had long grown accustomed to his silent contemplation. He wasn’t daft, he was just as quiet as he had always been. “You’re leaving?” But there was too much grief, too much confusion for him to understand properly that evening.

She nodded slowly. “I can’t turn my back on the Empire again. Not when I can fight against them. I will be joining our vod in the coming battles,” she announced. “I wanted to say goodbye.”

Din stared and she didn’t know if he were in shock or if he were just being his normal, reserved self. “When will you come back?”

A shaky smile formed beneath the cover of her bucket. “We’ll meet again. Even if that is marching in Manda’s halls,” she promised, standing up. “Take care of my brother, please.”

“Sena-”

“I have to go. Ret'urcye mhi .”

9ABY

Maybe we will meet again. Din had clung to those words in Mando’a for so many years, desperately hoping that the visage of his favorite vod would pop back up, insult him, and maybe toss a middle finger in for good measure. Never happened. As the years weathered on, one becoming two, becoming four, becoming five , he had started to lose hope. Everyone had heard about The Great Purge and the decimation of Mandalore. He didn’t like to think like this, but he expected that was probably where Sena had died. His thoughts tormented him, how he’d been too choked up with everything going on that he hadn’t even been able to tell her how he felt. Watching her turn around in mismatched beskar’gam before walking away with the foreign Mandalorians. He hadn’t told her that he loved her and now he’d never be able to. Paz still believed she was coming home, but after more than a decade, Din was convinced otherwise. The war was over. If there was any hope that Senaar Vizsla would return to the Tribe, it would have been four years ago.

The loss gouged at him deeper than he thought it ever could. His original comfort around the Tribe faded, replaced with the sorrow of seeing the Foundlings, remembering how she used to play with them, bring them candy, and tickle the life out of them. Walking through those empty, sewer halls in Nevarro, he was a shell of armor with nothing but a ghost inside. Provide. That’s all he did. He provided for the Tribe as he always had, leaving for long bouts of time and returning to drop off the supplies before going out again. This had become his typical routine, ignoring the other Mandalorians until he’d all but estranged every single one. Paz had been the first. The Vizsla’s insistence that Sena was still out there was so misplaced and gut wrenching that Din couldn’t stand to be around him. She was dead.

He thought back often to their peaceful upbringing on Vorp’ya and of all the things he should have done. Hindsight is twenty-twenty and if Din had another chance, he would have told her how he felt back when he first gave her the Jai’galaar necklace. Even if she still insisted on leaving come the demise of their covert, at least he would have had those years with her. To take care of her, to love her, to kiss her, and to make her feel as if she were the most mesh’la creature in the universe. He was haunted by his memories and his yearning, so it was easier to turn his emotions off. Even at all these years, he could still hear her stupid howling in the moonlight, her guffawing, and her cultured, articulate accent. What he would give just to hear her again, to listen to the hum of her rich voice as he fell asleep.

Din Djarin was a brokenhearted man with little to live for. He’d been like this for a while, trying to carve out the rest of his 20s amongst Malk’s crew to find a little lust for life. Worked for a bit, but Xi’an was a cheap version of Sena. Her expertise with blades, while adept, still wasn’t as adept as Sena. She also had a piss poor attitude. After that, he’d stopped trying to date, because it was always a comparison and his memories warped - placing Sena on a pedestal and forgetting how goofy or stupid she could be at times.

He’d dropped the Mythrol off before heading down below to the covert. Wasn’t often that he felt like lingering down there for more than a day, but he went there anyway. He had a small set of quarters that collected dust. The Razor Crest was his home for the most part, away, quiet, and transportable. Still, he kept some meager supplies in his apartment. Which, you couldn’t really call it an apartment. It was just a recess built into the sewers that was large enough to fit a table, a small kitchenette, and a bunk. All of which were stuffed like tuna in a can with barely any room to move. This was not Vorp’ya where they had large karyai in each house. Punching the code into the door, it puffed open, and his visor shifted to the almost darkness.

Stepping in, his head cocked, staring at the small light in the corner that was on. He’d not been in here for months. Why would a light be on? Cold metal pressed to his throat, a soft tut escaping his captor’s lips. “That was very careless of you.”

Din almost threw up at the sound of the silken voice, spinning around and throwing the Mandalorian against the wall. They moved lazily, allowing for themself to be captured as he pinned them against the wall. The armor was the wrong color, not green and not mismatched as he had last witnessed it. Instead, it was a dusky grey-blue accented by stripes of ashy black, burnished to the point where it glimmered magnificently even in the dull light of the tomb-like room. The helmet was painted with strange markings, akin to those patterns on a loth-wolf’s face. Emblazoned on the left pauldron was the rebel insignia - no, it was the New Republic insignia now. Whereas on the right, where the aliit marking went was the trademark Jai’galaar eyes of Clan Vizsla. Several blades, a midnight blue cloak, and a relaxed confidence that set his teeth on end as if she hadn’t been gone for so many years and this was a mischievous game of tag around the village where she’d managed to sneak up on him again.

“Sena?”

“Huh, where?” she glanced around, the tuft of her dark braid coming into view as she mocked him.

“But you-”

“Dead? Missing? Gone marching such a long time ago?” she filled in impishly.

“ How ?”

“I fought and we won,” she said as if it were that simple. “I told Paz to keep you updated with my whereabouts. I thought he would have.”

His stomach sank and he released her. Din had estranged Paz, sick of hearing that Sena was alive without any proof. He had believed that the man was in denial over his sister’s death, but here she stood, in New Republic glory. “The war has been over for years,” he found the chair at the small table, falling into it as he tried to rationalize what had happened. Everything was crashing down around him, his head aching just as much as his heart as she stood there, sheathing her blade and cocking a hand on the hilt.

“War might’ve been over, but I still had people to track down and kill. There’s still a lot to be done, but I knew it was finally time to come home,” she sat down across from him, clasping her hands together as she propped her elbows on her legs and sighed deeply. He saw the necklace he had given her swing forward from her iron heart. “There’s still remnants out there and I did everything in my power to work on killing every last one of them.”

He believed that. “I-” he was overwhelmed, all those pent up emotions, all those things he’d wanted to say but assumed he would never get the chance bubbling up to the surface. Originally, he would have given anything to tell her how he felt and now that he had the opportunity, the back of his throat felt so incredibly parched. “I missed you,” he said finally, cursing himself for not saying the other words, but it was a start. His emotions had been shoved into a tiny box, locked up and he’d thrown away the key years ago.

“Missed you too, shebs ,” she snickered, but despite the humor in her voice, he could feel… something else.

Silence settled between them, but not the typical silence that they had found comfort in when growing up. No, this was deeper and more profound and distinctly uncomfortable. His heart was hammering in his chest and he wondered why she had approached him like this. She could have just greeted him in the Foundry where he’d been earlier.

“I can - uhm, come back later. I know you just got back from a hunt,” she offered, standing up.

Din flew from his chair, unwilling to let her slip away, to let her go a second time. He caught her hand, holding it between his gloves, staring at the detailing in the leather and the seams. Heat blossomed in his throat, grinding his voice as he spoke, “Don’t.”

Visor tilting up toward him, her head listed slightly to the side where she gazed at him, questioning. “Are you certain?” she asked tenderly, her inquiry holding much more depth.

He ran his hand underneath the collar of her flight suit, brushing the edge of her helmet, before coming down to grip the spot between the pauldron and heartplate where flesh was instead of armor. Grip tightening, his chest constricted slightly at the feel - the real feel of her beneath his gloves. Emboldened by her leaning into his touch, Din released her hand and slid against her hip, hot flames of desire licking his body and causing him to shudder at the merest touch to her fully armored frame. He looked back to her, wondering if this were permissible, if he was allowed to do this or if he had overstepped the boundaries of their friendship. That’s not what he wanted and he wouldn’t make the same mistake of doing it again.

“Din,” it had been so long since anyone had actually called him by his name. “I know it was you who gifted me the necklace and not my brother. Why didn’t you just tell me?”

“I was afraid.”

“ You were afraid?” she poked the bear, her voice absolutely astonished by his confession.

“I was afraid to push you away and it didn’t matter in the end. I lost you to the war,” Din answered. “After what happened with Hyvhast, I thought you wouldn’t be-”

“Interested? Dank farrik you think too much,” she grumbled warmly. “If there was anyone in the Tribe that I actually felt comfortable being myself entirely, it was you, Din. I just assumed you had never thought of me like that. I mean, I was sort of annoying.”

“Sort of?”

“ OK, I was very annoying.”

He pulled her closer, her hips to his now, grinding up against her slightly. The touch made his skin dance, pulses of lightning lancing across his body as he let out a soft, trembling sigh. “Let me-” he started, voice cracking at the very idea of what he was about to offer, “-take care of you. Please .”

“Five minutes and I’ve already got you begging? You’re a changed man, Djarin,” Sena teased, but she hadn’t pulled away. Instead she leaned into him, pressing against his growing hardness, letting out a breathy huff which crackled in her vocoder. “I just-” she cleared her throat, aroused, but also worried. “Since Hyvhast, I never-”

Din groaned at the idea. Sena having been entirely alone during war, focusing on her hatred for the Empire rather than satisfying herself. The heat between his legs twitched more, which was pushed against her. If she felt it, she said nothing, only staring up at him with her palms against his red durasteel armor. “I’ll take care of you,” he promised, dragging the pad of his thumb against the collar of her shirt, exposing her copper throat. Tilting her head back, he saw the faintly glowing marks, like tiny golden dew drops that ran against the hollow and disappeared beneath the fabric. Even that small bit of skin was more than enough for him. “ Mesh’la. ”

“I trust you,” she whispered, handing herself over entirely as he ran his fingers down her hips, and picked her up.

It all felt like a dream, one he’d had many times before, but one that he’d never been able to place. Hands gripping her ass, he could feel the well sculpted muscles, the definition of a honed warrior, and her quivering in his palms. He set her on the bed, throwing his gloves off as if they were offensive, pressing his helmet to hers in an insistent, belabored keldabe kiss. Stars, he should have done that when they were young and not for the first time now. Stripping her armor, piece by piece, he slid the fabric down to expose her gorgeous skin. Whatever Hyvhast had said was wrong. Ripping it down he exposed the breast band and more of the dazzling markings, so many of them. She was slender, more than most humans, but he didn’t think she was shapeless. Lanced by scars from her years, her skin was smooth, pebbling beneath his calloused fingertips. Narrow waist, stomach punctuated by the line of her muscles, the bottoming of wide hips which disappeared beneath her belt and trousers.

His eyes traced the markings that she’d been insulted for, the way they trailed down her throat, danced against her collarbone and shoulders, curved beneath the bra and were obscured from his prying gaze. “Can I?” he entreated, aware that she might still be self conscious about it all and the last thing he wanted to do was push her away. He watched her swallow hard and nod. Hook by hook, his fingers trembled, before he dropped the fabric and exposed more of her to the dry, mild air of Nevarro’s underground. Small, soft breasts greeted him, not enough to fill his palms, but befitting of her natural frame, dark maroon nipples puckering as he grazed one, watching in intrigue as they stiffened into small peaks, so pretty and perfect.

“Din, I-” she warbled quietly, the original confidence disappearing in an instance and it broke his heart hearing her like this.

“ Mesh’la, ” he repeated with stern insistency, cradling her breast tenderly. “So fucking perfect-” the words fell out of his mouth before he could stop them, but he meant every one.

She let out a soft moan, leaning into his hand.

He traced circles around her skin, chasing the golden marks against her warm flesh, watching as each tiny movement sent chills across her body. Resting her against the bed as he followed the teardrops that cradled her breasts, he wondered how anyone could have found her unattractive. The beautiful copper of her skin, the contrast of the soft marks that had an ethereal hum as if the sun itself had dripped golden fire and graced her with its light. Finally, after minutes of wandering her upper body, he undid the buckle to her pants, discarding it to have her trembling slightly in just her underwear. Just as his hands had told him earlier, she had full legs, years of stealth and crouching, her ability to jump as if she were a nexu, and to land gracefully from extreme heights without injuring herself. The curve of her hips bottomed out and Din was entransed, caressing her ass, finding more of the golden marks as they flanked the outside of her leg and burned a wake to the tops of her feet.

“I-I dreamed about this,” he told her, resolve crumbling as his index fingers glided down her stomach and against the hollow of her hip. He’d been quiet for decades, resenting himself for his silence. “If I ever saw you again, what I’d tell you. Wh-what I’d do to you. Was always so afraid to push you away.”

“What’s changed now?”

Din laughed at her question, the same soft laugh that fizzled out through the vocoder, not quite being picked up properly. “Nothing changed. Not how I feel. Just… Circumstances. Regrets. Things I never said when I should have. That I-”

“Not yet,” she interrupted. “It’s been 10 years. Let’s enjoy this now and talk after. There’s a lot to talk about. But not now-” Not when he couldn’t keep his hands off of her. Not when all he wanted to do was praise her and love her. Even if she wouldn’t let him say it just yet, he fully intended on showing her what their separation had done to him. He wasn’t inexperienced by any means, but it had been a long while, never feeling the urge to do more than palm himself for relief, often dreaming of how he’d remembered her. Now she was here, spread out on his bed against the woolen comforter, her chest rising and falling quickly as he flicked the edge of her underwear.

It had been over 10 years and in his haste, the little box he’d locked and thrown the key away for, had burst open. He smirked at the irony of Sena being the wiser one for once, warning him to be careful of what he said, for they might not be the same people. Somehow, he doubted that.

Pulling the underwear off, he drank in the vision of her nude aside from her helmet. Neither of them could remove it, not unless they exchanged riduurok and she had been correct. There was much to discuss, like what had happened during the war and what their future might hold. Their future. Din had been living life day by day, never thinking of what might be waiting for him in one year or two or ten. Soft dark hair painted the top of her mound, fingertips cruising toward the bundle of nerves as she squirmed at the touch. He wanted to taste her, to feel her plush skin against his face, and to bite every since golden drop upon her skin as if he were a parched settler on Tatooine desperate for water.

Finally, he drew his fingers beneath her legs, slicking them against her wetness, astonished by how wet she actually was. “All this for me? I’m beginning to think you liked me a lot more than you ever let on,” Din purred to her disdain, watching her jerk her chin up and expose the hollow of her throat. “Or that you’ve just been pent up from never being pleasured. Dripping - waiting for someone to take it-” he slid his middle finger in with ease, a soft yelp crackling through her modulator as her back arched. Despite her hourglass frame, she was still small and light boned, part of him worried that he’d not be able to do much more than play with her.

“I might’ve done this sooner if I knew how much you talked,” Sena gritted out through her teeth.

He pumped into her, bowing over her and taking her breast in his free hand. Grinding his helmet against hers, he listened to the soft noises that the modulator wasn’t catching quite right, her back arching as he placed another finger in. “I can be quiet if you want,” he doubted it, but decided to threaten silence to see what she would do.

“Kriff! Please don’t,” she whined, her voice hitching as he thumbed her clit. “Keep talking. I like it. I - ahhh ,” he found the spot, pinching her nipple as he quickened his pace on her bud.

“That’s it. Be a good girl, come for me. You like it right there, don’t you?” he pressed harder, a shudder overcoming her body as she gripped his heartplate. “Fuck-” his cock throbbed painfully, stealing his breath away for a moment as he listened to her titullating response to his stimulation.

“Can you take it off?” she asked between her belabored breathing. “The beskar’gam -”

He had been so riveted by her, snared in the trap that was her body, that he’d forgotten entirely that he still had everything on, weapons included. Only his gloves had been shed, fingers deep in her warmth and clutching her chest as he unraveled her string by string. Removing his hand, she whimpered at the loss of the pleasure, pressing her thighs together as Din ripped off his own attire without an afterthought. The years of being covered head to toe, unwilling to let anyone look at so much as his hand, barely a consideration as she laid out bare for him. He’d already made this decision a long time ago, piling the armor on the ground, chest heaving as he bent back down over her, picking up where he left off.

Her fingers pushed against him, calloused pads in the dark hair on his chest, tracing the muscles of his pecs, between his breastbone before tracing down his stomach. Each gently, tentative touch as she came to remember him, but in a new way. Her palm flushed just beneath his abdomen, causing him to tense involuntarily, his own breath getting caught in the back of his throat as she ghosted over his pelvis. Distracted by her roaming hands, he fixated, hyperfocusing before he coated his fingers again in her heat and began working to prove to her what he felt.

Sena’s skin was on fire, the rough fingertips of her childhood friend and rival causing her to make all sorts of noises she’d never known were stored in her. Paz had told her years ago, during their brief transmissions while at war, that the necklace had been a gift Din had been holding onto for years before actually giving it to her. The knowledge of that had made her blubber like a baby - because Sena cried all the kriffing time. As a kid, as a teenager, as an adult… The fact that the unpainted idiot had never told her how he felt, that weighed heavy on her shoulders for years. Because if she had known, she might’ve never gone to war. The original question her brother had asked had been ill placed. When she was 16, she wasn’t thinking of romance, but by the time the covert had been attacked on Vorp’ya… if Din had asked her, she would have said yes. Back then, he had basically been a part of Clan Vizsla from how often he had been around. While they pestered one another, the original terse rivalry had been replaced with a different kind of friendship. Both of them had been too afraid to acknowledge it and Sena was still battling with the idea that no one would ever find her body attractive. What if Din had thought the same? She wouldn’t have been able to hide her embarrassment if he had scorned her too when finally glimpsing what was beneath her armor.

She didn’t feel like that now as his helmet met hers and his hands were between her legs. For what felt like an hour he explored her, tracing the Goddess Markings on her skin, praising her. And fuck did that turn her on. Hearing someone say that she was beautiful, that everything about her was absolutely perfect. His hot baritone in her ear, the slight fumbling of his words as they fell out of his mouth in the most uncontrolled manner she’d ever heard, losing all restriction behind closed doors. She’d never known it could feel like this, his expert fingers making her weak, the very warmth of his body so close to hers a comfort that she had so desperately missed. They’d never been close like this, but Goddess she had wanted it so badly after Paz had told her about the necklace. There hadn’t been any time for pleasure during war, but she did think about it in her dreams when she tried to escape the harsh reality around her. Dreaming faintly of the silver beskar helmet of her old friend, thumbing the Jai’galaar eyes, and hoping that he might be waiting for her back with the Tribe. The very necklace was frigid against the hollow of her chest now, shifting as she moaned, the muscles in her legs tensing and her toes curling.

“That’s it, mesh’la, howl for me. Howl like you did by the moonpool, in the trees, howl for me ,” he insisted, her alto cutting off as a wave of white noise and numbness began to edge at her being. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t do much more than push her helmet back into the pillow as the overwhelming pressure built up in her sent swells of ecstasy coursing through every fiber of her being. The cry came after, while her body was still riding the intoxication, like she was floating amongst the starlight without a ship, out of her own body and adrift as her eyes remained shut. “So perfect,” he muttered against her, removing his fingers as her bundle of nerves twitched, oversensitive and grounding her back to reality as she tried to suck in a few strangled breaths.

“D-Din, that was-” she was stammering, unable to catch her voice as it ran away from her with the orgasm, making her sound pitifully tinny.

“Was it what you imagined?” he asked, his voice quiet again.

“I didn’t know what to imagine,” she admitted dolefully. Sena had touched herself before, but it had never felt that good. Someone else’s fingers gliding over her, the arousing words in her ears, the feeling of proximity which set her teeth on end and skin crawling in just the right way. It was lovely and it was real, not just a string of thoughts and what-ifs. No fear of being caught with her hands in her pants while trying to get some shut eye and relieve the tension in her shoulders - the obviously palpable tension from the stress of being at war for so many years. Her eyes listed down, noticing his massive hardness, somewhat terrified of being speared on the end of it. His fingers had filled her up and she could only fathom what his cock might do to her. “What about-”

“Do you want me to?”

She moaned gently, still taken aback by how careful he was being with her. They were both in their fucking 30s and she was the blatantly inexperienced one. Yet, here he was being so tender, despite how much his hardon had to be bothering him. Pleasure wouldn’t come without a bit of pain first and Sena, while afraid, knew that it wouldn’t kill her. Nodding, she reached down and grasped him, her fingers unable to fully encircle his girth. He was tacky from where his own wet fingers had fisted himself, her juice smeared along his length as she stroked him once. His helmet ground into hers more, a deep rumble in the back of his throat which she could hear in her ear.

“Are you certain ?” he challenged this time, spitting the words out in the same dark manner as he had when talking to her amidst his playing. “If you’ve never-”

“I’ve been hurt worse before, Djarin. I think I can handle a little temporary discomfort,” she retorted thinly, stroking him again, enjoying the way that he bucked against her. “I know how this all works.” She’d just not experienced it. While she appreciated how careful he was being, she didn’t need to be fully coddled.

He brushed between her legs again, the gesture making her tighten when his fingertips touched her swollen bud. “You might think you know,” he started, positioning himself above her, jerking her hips toward his. “But I don’t think you do.” The weeping head of his manhood met her folds, lathing it in her wetness before he tested against her slightly. With one glance, she knew that he was going to absolutely split her open, her hips dwarfed by him and her sex quivering at the idea of trying to accomodate him. He began to ease against her resistance. She chewed her lips raw, trying not to cry out as he moved in and then out, coating himself and trying to make progress, centimeter by gruelling centimeter. Her own hands were clutching her breasts, pinching her own nipples in a futile attempt to distract herself. “Sena-” his visor tilted up. “You need to relax or this isn’t going to work.”

Relax? Relax? He was literally stabbing her between her legs, how could she relax? Her chest heaved in short, panicked breaths before she scrunched her eyes shut trying to calm herself down. A hand rubbed against her stomach, soothing in small circles. This wasn’t at all like what she had witnessed on Tatooine. This was an agreement between two people who cared for each other. She let out a long exhale and loosened her grip on her aching nipples. Din pushed into her entirely, filling her to the brim, stretching her and breaking past the initial discomfort. While it still hurt a bit, she adjusted her hips and let out a quiet mewl as he froze, head bowed, buried to the hilt.

“Dank farrik,” he cursed, gazing down at Sena’s copper body, his cock sunk into her warmth, her silken walls quivering around him as he gripped her hips. Even if she’d calmed down for a brief moment, at his words she’d tensed again and squeezed his cock. Din gasped, muttering in Mando’a to himself, absolutely blissed out in the moment. “S-so good. Yo-you feel s-so good,” he managed, finally finding the willpower to glide out and back in.

“Was it what you imagined?” she asked in a faint voice, her articulate accent raking electricity down his spine. That kriffing voice. He could listen to it all day, even if she was saying the most stupid, pointless things.

Din’s jaw slackened and he managed a choked laugh. “Better,” he swore, craning back down, caging her body beneath him as he moved with no insistency. With little intention of hurting her, their reunion wouldn’t be too impassioned. Even if she claimed she could take it - her telltale stubbornness shining through - Din knew that he might be hurting her a bit. She was impossibly tight, but her walls eased slightly as he brought his helmet back down to hers, savoring each gentle keen that escaped her throat. He placed a hand against her neck, fingers sliding through a few stray strands of inky hair, thumb tracing the hollow as he gave a little squeeze. He was already getting close, a combination of how long it’d been since he’d had sex, the fact that it was her, in addition to how perfectly she wrapped around his length, so pleasingly snug and firm, leaving little to no room for anything else. “You were made for me,” he insisted in his delirium, sailing along a growing high as his legs ached and he felt the building pressure behind his groin.

She was hanging onto him, the golden marks on her skin winking as he glanced down at her, reminding him that she wasn’t quite human, but something so much more precious and coveted. A piece of the sun bundled up in beskar and joined to him as she threw her head back against the pillow again. Her walls fluttered around him, her whimper dying in her chest.

“Coming a second time? Fuck-” he was being thrust precariously to the edge by her, wishing he could last a bit longer, but she was strangling his cock. “Y-you’re so good. So perfect. C-can’t believe I waited this l-long. I-I’d wait forever if it meant I c-could have you a-again.”

She bleated at his words, continuing to strain beneath him on the edge of her own orgasm.

Despite intending to be utterly gentle with her, he had to bring himself over. He pumped into her a good few times, the sensation absolutely wrecking him, as she cried out, digging her fingernails into the flesh around his shoulders. He painted her insides with his seed, clamped on so tightly that he hadn’t the strength or will to do it elsewhere. Sagging forward, he pushed the visor of his helmet into the pillow beside her, trying to collect the scattered fragments of his sense as he wondered when he’d ever had such a good orgasm. His body was still quaking from the effort, despite how slow they had been going, tanned skin slick with sweat from a combination of effort and the stale desert air.

Finally, he disentangled himself and slipped down on the small bed beside her. He offered his arm, the cool beskar helm nestling into the crook of his pec, clicking lightly with the bottom of his own.

That’s going to get annoying, he realized, but put the thought aside. Mindlessly, his hand nestled against her waist and traced against it, comforted by her silken skin underneath his palm. Sliding over them like the moonlight on the moors of Vorp’ya, a comforting silence eased between them as they slowly drifted down from their high like a leaf slowly spiralling down from a tree’s most upper branch. He was nearly dozing off, her nails tracing lines in his chest hair, when she finally spoke.

“We should talk.”

Those words shouldn’t have frightened him, not when he was holding her against him, naked save for their helmets, having just fucked her, but they did. His heart fluttered, disconcerted and malcontent at the suggestion that there was really so much to talk about. “About?”

“What this means, what happened during the war, and where we go from here,” she answered simply.

They owed each other to fill in the gaps, and try to work things out. “Mm,” he hummed, continuing to caress her. “I don’t know what you’ve heard from Paz.”

“That you’re an absolute di’kut ,” she informed him.

Din snorted. Of course Paz would still be mad at him, though he didn’t entirely blame the man. They weren’t on the best of terms at the moment. “Could say the same for him.”

“You’re both idiots,” Sena declared. “But I know it must’ve been hard to believe him after all this time.”

“Hard? It was nearly impossible. Why didn’t he just show me one of the transmissions?”

“Because they were coded specifically to be erased immediately after being opened,” Sena sighed. “I really could only send one at most every year or two. I was deep in Imperial territory and if those got intercepted, I could have gotten my entire team killed. I promised Paz I’d only send them to the Kote. ”

He should have expected that Paz would have offered evidence if he had it, but it still made him upset that he’d gone for so many years without confirmation - having to rely on the words of a man who was grieving for the loss of his entire clan. “What were you doing? I assumed the worst… that during The Great Purge you went marching-” his voice cracked, fingers tightening against her as he closed his eyes and tried to shake the terrible nightmares he’d recounted as he imagined her being killed over and over again without him there to watch her six.

“Barely made it out of there. Mandalore was absolutely ravaged. There were a few of us trying to figure out where to go, what to do… We didn’t feel right just throwing the towel in and giving up. Not after all the vod we’d lost on Mandalore. So, we found the rebels and offered our help. I split off from the others as the rebels began growing their numbers. I did a lot of recon, recruiting, and then set up on Hoth. Lot of people joined, but a lot of those people didn’t know their ass from their elbow. They had heart and they needed training, so I stepped into the position as teacher. None of them ever took a shine to fighting like Mandalorians, but they also didn’t have the luxury of extensive training. It was learn quick or die in the next fire fight-”

She continued detailing her years amongst the Rebels, how the operations grew, and she continued to help train until there were others who could take up the torch. Her talents were better used elsewhere, especially with the growing tension and necessity of an elite set of soldiers that could employ better stealth tactics. Her hatred of the Imps had never faded and she fell in step with being known as the best extractor of information. Whenever an officer was captured, she would be the interrogator, making certain they didn’t off themselves with their implants. They were tough nuts to crack, but Sena always had them singing for death, begging to be released from the revenge she took out on them. There was no pity in her heart. Not one single shred.

With the war reaching a climax, she took boots to the ground, working alongside other soldiers and groups as a leader and front-liner. Her years of experience, tactical training, and warfare made her a prime candidate for commander and she went wherever she was needed. No wonder she had no time to reach out, she was constantly traveling and offering support to troops. There was no time to run-ashore, to lollygag, or to take a moment for herself. They were at war and she’d be damned if she slacked even for a moment, costing anyone their lives. Din’s heart burned with admiration for her sacrifice, her unflinching resolve, and dedication to the cause. With each story, each word, he felt his resentment for her lack of contact vanishing as if it’d never been there. She hadn’t purposely been estranging herself. Sena had been an important leader in the war and trying to reach out to the Tribe would’ve put it in danger. She had been protecting them with her distance and he’d given up on ever seeing her again because of it.

When the end of the war came, it did not mark a complete close. The Death Star might’ve imploded, but there were still many warlords looking to make a last stand and attempt to regroup forces to bludgeon the wounded New Republic. Again, she could not leave in good faith until she was quite certain that the New Republic could handle everything on their own. So she remained, helping track down and hunt the remnants, counting the heads on spikes as she considered what returning home might feel like. It would all be worth it. She’d gone that far and that long to protect her people, for the risk of the Empire swooping in and taking the Tribe once again to never happen a second time. Her own personal needs did not rival the needs of the many.

Listening closely, he felt himself falling in love with her a second time.

“So as you can imagine, it’s been a long awaited homecoming. Not to mention how glad I was to take this kriffing bucket off on Dinhue . Thought the thing was glued onto me at that point,” she remarked, rapping her knuckles against the grey-blue steel. “Not that I didn’t miss you, but I wouldn’t trade what I did for anything, Din. I’m sorry if that hurts you, but I had to go. I had to because they destroyed my planet. And then did it a second time when they attacked Mandalore.”

“I understand,” he assured her. “If you had remained here, you’d be asking yourself constantly what might have happened if you had helped. You wouldn’t have been happy.”

“Thanks,” she muttered, nuzzling back against his neck, the beskar chilling him. “Didn’t think the war would take that kriffing long, but… suppose it couldn’t be helped.”

“ Ni vod’ika ,” he teased, tracing the golden marks on her collar.

“I was a commander,” she groused, but shifted abruptly, sitting up so that she had a palm on the pillow and was gazing down at him. “And when you say that, when you say my- ”

“I mean it,” Din answered honestly. “ My cyar’ika. Mine. Did you think I would change my mind after you told me your war stories?”

“Thought I might be too cool for you. That you’d be intimidated-”

“ Intimidated ?” Din snarked, laughing at the idea. He pushed her off, a soft huff escaping her mouth as she landed and he rolled on top of her. “Intimidated by you? After I had you soaking wet and on my cock, begging for me to talk dirty to you? You’re still the same di’kut. Arrogant, foolish-” he ground his hips to hers, his length beginning to twitch. “-so fucking dorky.”

“Alright, alright-” she complained, squirming beneath him. “I get it. My one brain cell did get a little swollen over the years. The rebels aren’t Mandalorians, so it was easy to stick out-”

“No, you’re wrong about that,” he palmed her breast, twisting her maroon nipple between his fingers, watching as it pebbled beneath his touch. “Despite being a di’kut , you’ve always been special. You’ve always had a way with people. And you’ve always been an impeccable warrior. I was always jealous of that - your ability to play so nice with others, the way that they’d all look at you, how they all accepted you right away when you first arrived to the Tribe. The fact that Rhenx favored you more than me…” he huffed, letting loose all his discontent and the frustration he’d felt growing up as they fought for the lead. The growing attraction that had become more as he admired her talents, the ones she excelled in versus him, the fact that she was able to blend into all aspects of the Tribe. He’d always been reserved, unable to lead from the front as she did so naturally, surrounded by friends and hunters who adored being in her space just as much as he did.

“You know, it doesn’t sound like you like me very much,” Sena chuckled, squeaking when he pinched her nipple.

“You’re right,” he admitted, bending down to spread her legs again, thrusting his hardness against her quivering lower lips. She gasped as he slipped right back in. “ Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum .”

“D-Din!”

He moaned at the sound of his name being cried out, conscious to not be too rough, but still finding himself pumping into her at a steady pace. Her walls trembled around him, his palm seated against the small of her back, another flush to her mound as he drew quick circles around her clit. “I’ve loved you for such a long time. S-since we were kids. I-imagined h-having a family w-with you,” he was fraying around the edges, her sharp keening and noises hooking him toward the abyss once again. “E-each year you were gone. Felt like a piece of me died too. N-never telling you. Can’t do that again. Can’t let you out of my sight without letting you know how you make me feel. Hasn’t changed. You haven’t changed. Fuck-” his voice was breaking, the overwhelming urge to kiss her again consuming him. “Yo-you’re so good. Didn’t even dream you’d be this fucking amazing. Mesh’la. These markings-” he followed the crescents beneath her breasts. “-I want to taste every single one. I want to taste you. I want everything .”

Her back arched beneath his hand, walls clenching around him and pushing him into the sweet divinity of her warmth, the heat of her embrace, and the sharp intake of air before letting out a trembling cry. His head scraped her cervix, each thrust sending jarring shockwaves up his spine, from helmet to toe. For the second time that afternoon, he climaxed and was winded, losing all sense of knowing as he fell forward. His helmet felt awfully constricting, more so than usual as he panted, the breaths billeting back in his face.

They both fell asleep, exhausted from their tryst.

Din woke up to the space beside him vacant of Sena’s warmth. Panic billowed in his chest, eyes snapping open as he wondered if it had all been some kind of illness induced fever dream and the exchange had never happened. But when he glanced across the small room, he saw her at the kitchenette brewing tea. Her long hair had been pulled out of the braid and scattered in obsidian waves all the way down past her ass. She had his shirt on, which was big and baggy, the sleeves pushed up, and the hem skimming the tops of her thighs. Even if her armor looked good on her, Din liked seeing his own clothing draped over her slender form. Her visor settled on him and she gestured to the kettle.

“Would you like a cup?”

“Mm,” he nodded, grabbing his trousers and slipping them on, glad that she was still there and that it hadn’t been a dream. Striding over toward her as she began steeping the leaves, none of which were his, he placed his hands against her hips and brushed into her, humming as he set his chin on top of her helmet. Eventually his hands wrapped around her entirely, her slender form leaning back against him as she huffed at him.

“I can’t finish if you’ve got me like this,” she informed him.

“Then don’t,” he muttered.

“I’m not wasting good tea leaves,” she snipped, worming out of his grip so that she had enough room to work. Once she had steeped them properly, she removed the leaves and added a bit of honey.

“Made yourself comfortable in here while you waited for me, didn’t you?” Din mused, aware that this apartment was rather scant in supplies.

“I take my tea everywhere with me,” she insisted evenly. “These are from Naboo.”

“Which you’re not actually from.”

“No, I am not,” she admitted.

“Where are you from?”

“Paz told me you overheard that evening.”

“Course he did,” Din grumbled, wondering how much the siblings shared with each other. At this point, seemed like bloody everything. “Yes, I overheard that you were Anaxian. Although, I never knew much about Anaxes or the people who lived there.”

“A lot of different people lived there. I lived in a forest called Genmaris,” she informed him.

A forest. Now he understood why she had been so much more excited to see a tree than the pond. She was accustomed to running between branches and boroughs and had there been more trees, she might’ve leapt amongst them completely in her natural element. “What was it like there?”

“Peaceful,” she sighed wistfully, facing him and leaning back against the counter. “I was a brat-”

“Still are-”

She gave him a defiant head tilt before continuing. “Used to find ways to worm out of the castle all the time. Go flouncing in the woods and get all my nicest dresses ruined-”

“ Castle? ” Din repeated.

“I was a princess,” she sounded so indifferent that Din was shocked into silence. “Oh, come on now. You said you overheard that evening after the farce with Hyvhast. Paz called me a princess.”

“I thought it was a pet name, not literal,” he croaked in disbelief.

“ Anyways, ” she continued. “Genmaris was very beautiful and rich with culture, vegetation, and the architecture was glorious. Metal wasn’t very often used for building. The castle was made of stone and wood.”

“The accent makes more sense now,” Din realized out loud.

“Hm?”

“Your accent, princess .”

“Don’t start that osik with me. I haven’t been a princess for twenty-two years. That life was put behind me when I joined Clan Vizsla,” she snapped irritably, his lips curling up at her frustration. “ Speaking of which, my brother is rather cross with you.”

“You think he’ll be more upset after he finds out I fucked you?” Din teased, quickly adding, “Twice.”

She slapped his chest - hard - taking her mug of tea and sliding out of his grasp. “Paz does like you. He was thinking of us as a match back when we were 16,” she sat down, crossing her legs, the hem of the shirt riding up slightly. “But you were too stupid to do anything other than stare.”

“You could’ve said something too, cyar’ika ,” he took the other mug and sat across from her.

“Anaxians don’t reach sexual maturity until their twentieth name day. And what that means, is that we don’t go through puberty until then. I wasn’t really thinking about that sort of stuff until we were older and even then, I was quite put off after what had happened,” Sena reminded him, lifting her helmet enough to take a sip of her tea. “I ended up dating because it felt like the right thing to do, since everyone else was.”

Din’s stomach shifted uncomfortably, horrified by what he was hearing. Not because he’d overstepped boundaries, but because Sena had been trying so hard to fit in and she had gotten burned because of it. Hyvhast’s stupid bucket appeared back in his mind. She had dated him because ‘it seemed right’ only for the mando to strip her growing body after constant pressure and coercion. No wonder Paz had been livid. He’d also felt just as upset, but Paz had known all these things those years ago. His sister was still an adolescent and Hyvhast had defiled her, laughed in her face, and then told others about it. Fortunately, the Tribe wasn’t as stupid as Hyvhast and Jiabe had throttled him for speaking out of turn.

“And now?”

She glanced over at him. “Well, we didn’t quite date did we? Though circumstances withstanding, I wouldn’t take back any of what we did.”

He was happy to hear that, taking a sip of the tea, which was pleasantly floral with earthy undertones, a hint of caf, and the sweet bloom of the honey. “What are we?”

“Together, if that’s what you’d like,” she proposed, but quickly followed up. “Despite what you’ve said, I think we should get to know each other again. We shouldn’t be too hasty.” They shouldn’t exchange riduurok immediately was what she was darting around.

Din would have right in that moment, but respected her request. Duly he remembered that he had promised Karga that he’d pick up the next big bounty soon, something about beskar being involved as payment. The last thing he wanted to do was leave her side after being reunited. But she had full beskar armor. He did not. “Together then,” he agreed. “You’re not going to tell Paz that we-”

“ What!? ” she screeched. “Do I want your helmet bashed in? No! I’ll tell him that we’re courting. Again, he’s still rather pissed at you,” she cocked her head, setting the mug down on the table. “I know the years haven’t been easy for you. Paz told me that you’ve been living a half-life, not really engaging with the Tribe. Still pulling more than your fair share of weight, but a lot of our vod aren’t too pleased with you. Din… Are you ok?”

He sighed, bone weary and not looking forward to this conversation. “The days were monotonous. I just fell into routine and… you were really the only reason I talked to most of the Tribe. Your brother tried to bring me back in and we got into a few fights over it. I thought you were marching away, so hearing him sound so foolishly hopeless about your return… I started to resent him. Which only grew as the years dragged on and he still hadn’t given up about you.”

Sena stood up, trotting over to him and wrapping an arm around his hot neck. “Well, you’d better apologize then, because who’s the shebs now?” she pointed out, letting him lean into her chest, hooking his bicep around her waist before he tugged her onto his lap.

“I am,” he grumbled, nestling his helmet into her collar.

“Mm, you have changed a bit. Admitting defeat so quickly?”

“Only to you,” he frowned, sitting back up. “It’ll get better. I’ll get better,” he assured her, touching his helmet down in a keldabe kiss.

“Better? No, Din, you’ll feel better. You’re not broken, just hurting. And I’ll be here for you to talk to. I’m not going anywhere now,” she insisted, pushing back against his helmet.

He hummed in agreement, holding her close, savoring their proximity once again, clinging to the idea that he’d not be alone again. Truly, he’d never been alone as he was surrounded by the Tribe, but he’d estranged himself after the defeat on Vorp’ya. He didn’t feel hopeless anymore, but there were still many other emotions he had to come to grips with. “Do I really have to apologize to Paz?”

“ Elek, di’kut, ” she flicked his helmet. “Better sooner than later, because if Paz finds out that you-”

“You said you wouldn’t tell him,” he scowled.

“If it’s going to force your apology out of you, perhaps I might casually mention it.”

“We won’t be exchanging riduurok ever if your brother kills me,” Din reminded her lightly.

“Mm, would be such a shame. You’ll never find out what an Anaxian princess actually looks like,” she jested.

“If this part of you is any hint at what’s beneath the bucket-” he ran his hand down the front of the shirt she was wearing. “-then I know I’m in for the shock of my life.”

“Oh,” she huffed mockingly. “Can your heart take it?”

Din pushed her off his lap as she broke out into a fit of howling laughter. He’d missed that especially. “Still a brat.”

“ Your brat.”

“My brat,” he agreed.

Translations

ori'buyce kih'kovid - all helmet, no head (overdeveloped sense of authority) mesh'la dala - beautiful woman di'kutla - stupid, worthless Hukaat'kama - watch my six shab - fuck/fucked dala - woman ni cetar'narir kay'shebs - I'm going to shove my boot up your ass shebs - ass jayc'kovid - dickhead osik - shit Vor entre - I owe you a debt (or thank you) Kaysh mirsh solus - his braincell is lonely Oya - let's hunt, let's go Manda'yaim - Mandalore Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum - I love you Ret'urcye mhi - Goodbye (lit. Maybe we'll meet again) di'kut - idiot Ni vod'ika - my little soldier

#big brother paz vizsla #paz vizsla & oc character #the mandalorian fanfic #the mandalorian fanfiction #growing up mandalorian #din djarin x oc #din djarin smut #smut with feelings

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frostsinth · 4 years ago

Text

The Bard’s Bounty - Pt. 7

Part 1|2|3|4|5|6

Iara still can’t believe anything she feels, and certainly doesn’t trust anything Balam says. He’s obviously just pretending to like her so she’ll let him go... right?

I’d really like there to be ten parts to be even, but I guess it just depends on how I this wraps up. Might be less. As always, my undying thanks for tuning in! I love hearing what you think, so please comment and reblog with your thoughts!

I was not sure what woke me originally. If it was the sound of an animal moving through the brush. Or perhaps it was something else. Something more subtle. But then I heard Goda’s whicker, and was pulled fully from my sleep.

My wound was feeling much better, and I was able to slip out of Balam’s arms without waking him. The fire had died down, and I passed it by without much thought as I slowly moved to the mouth of the cave. I left my hand wrapped around my middle, as if to support myself. The makeshift bandages felt damp, and I knew I had probably reopened the wound a little in my moving.

Yet something left me unsettled. I could not keep myself in the orc’s arms. I glanced over my shoulder at him, leaning against the stones closest to me for support. The man seemed to sleep quite deep; his shoulders slumped, his chin against his chest. I had to tighten my lips to keep from smiling.

Inside me, a battle raged. I felt oddly raw and vulnerable. I couldn’t remember the last time I had ever felt so exposed. Goda whickered again, pulling me from my thoughts. I walked over to her and took her great head in my arms. She snuffed and nuzzled me, obviously pleased to see me again after close to two days of my absence. I wondered if she had been able to smell my blood. If she knew how close I had come to dying.

I stroked her fetlock as I considered everything that had happened in those two days. It was crazy; absolute insanity that I was even considering it. After all, at the beginning of the week, I hadn’t even known Balam’s name. Three days ago, I wouldn’t have been able to pull his face out of a crowd.

Shaking my head, I sighed, leaning my forehead against Goda’s. She wuffed softly, blinking her huge brown eyes slowly.

“How could I?” I asked her softly, and she lipped at my hand with her velvety lips. “We’re so close, Goda… His bounty would more than pay off the last of my debt…”

Her tail flicked, but she otherwise seemed to have no answers for me. I sighed, turning and leaning my back against her side. She curled her head around and tugged at my skirt. I smiled and stroked her behind her ears.

“But how can I just let him go?” I pressed. “If I don’t bring him in, someone else will… Sigi and Varius are the type to hold a grudge.” She snorted, shaking her head, and I nodded in agreement. “He’s not safe, even if…”

I paused, pushing back the loose hair out of my face. I winced as the movement flexed my injured side, and rested my hand lightly upon it again. I remembered how he had stayed. Even when he could have abandoned me and gone off on his own. I knew it would be a while yet until I completely admitted it to myself, but there was no way I could turn him in now. If for no other reason than that he had saved my life… I at least owed him a chance at his.

My lips tingled, and I licked them slowly, remembering the night before. Wondering what it meant… I swallowed a lump in my throat. Probably just a bard’s desperate attempt to make a connection; make me see him as something real. Make me feel guilty about collecting him. I shook my head, steeling my will and looking around. My stomach growled, and I realized I couldn’t remember the last time I ate.

The sun hadn’t quite set yet; there were still a few hours of daylight left. I used it to gather edible plants and berries between the roots of the trees. I had to stop every few minutes to lean against a trunk and let a dizzy spell pass; but the forest was quite lush and I didn’t have to look hard to find enough to fill my arms.

I wasn’t gone long, and when I came back I saw Balam stoking the dying fire. When I approached, he looked up. When his brown eyes met mine, he smiled, and I felt myself melt a little.

I looked away, walking over and depositing my harvest beside him.

“..Hungry?” I offered, gathering up a handful of berries and nibbling at them.

“Famished!” He exclaimed, eyeing my findings.

Leaning over, he took a few things and bit them experimentally. Satisfied he gathered more, then scooched closer to me until his huge thigh touched mine. The fire cackled and snapped warmly again, and I looked down at my hands.

“You don’t have to play that game anymore,” I told him, chewing on some leaves. They were a little bitter, but had a minty underlying taste.

He raised one bushy eyebrow at me, munching contentedly. “What game?”

I shoved his thigh pointedly. “This. It’s useless to pretend. Besides,” I grabbed another handful, “There’s a … good possibility you saved my life. So I owe you.” I shrugged it off, leaning back against the rocks. “To repay you, I’ve already decided not to turn you in… So you don’t have worry about pretending to still like me. You can go back to hating me now.”

I jumped at his sudden hefty laugh, spinning to look at him. I frowned, my brows knitting together as I stared at him. I felt a little heat rise to my cheeks. His laugh bounced around us, and even Goda poked her head in curiously at the sound.

“We’ll discuss your refusal to believe you would have died without me later-” He reached out one arm, wrapping it around my middle and with surprisingly little effort lifted me off the ground and back onto his lap- “And thanks for the whole… bounty thing. But you’re crazy if you think I’ve been ‘pretending’ anything.”

“Get off me, you oaf!” I growled, wriggling. I winced in pain, stilling my struggles.

He used my momentary distraction to wrap his arms all the way around me. I felt him nuzzling against my ear, and turned my head away. I felt as though my ears might catch on fire. I tried unsuccessfully to push down the happiness that filled me at his touch.

“I already told you I’m letting you go,” I grumbled, shaking my head, “You don’t have to-”

His hand reached up and cupped my cheek gently. He slowly turned me to face him and leaned in, resting his forehead against mine.

“By the Gods, woman. Take a hint.”

I scowled at him, longing to smack that stupid lopsided grin off his face. He studied me for a moment, with those big, doe-like eyes of his. The longer he stared, the more heat I felt in my cheeks. But I refused. Refused to believe he meant any of it. After all, how could he? What evidence in my life had ever led me to believe that such emotions were even possible?

As he stared, his expression softened, and his thump traced back and forth along my cheek. He sighed, and his hot breath hit me squarely. It smelled of the sweet berries and mint leaves. His eyes flicked down to my lips.

“You really don’t get it, do you?” He murmured, so softly it made my skin tingle to hear it.

My breath caught in my throat, and I felt my lips tremble slightly. “Don’t play with me, Balam,” I whispered, closing my eyes. I couldn’t take his staring anymore. “Just… don’t.”

His fingers cupping my jaw tightened ever so slightly. I must have tensed beneath his touch, because he quickly released me and returned to his feather-light caressing.

I started a little when his lips pressed against mine. The same tender, delicate kiss as the night before. I shivered beneath his touch, but melted into his mouth. I wondered if he could taste the saltiness of my tears too.

When he gently pulled away, I slowly opened my eyes. Daring to meet his once more. So absolutely terrified of what I would find waiting there. I wasn’t expecting the warmth. It made his face seem soft, and I blinked a few times to make sure I was really awake. He reached up and wiped away my tears with the back of his hand.

“Iara, you are the most stubborn, callous, infuriating, and irritating woman I’ve ever met,” He told me softly, his lopsided grin filling his face, “But you could shove me off a cliff and I would spend eternity climbing back up it just to see you one more time…”

I couldn’t help laughing softly, the edges of it tinged with a bitter sadness. “Is that supposed to be a compliment?”

Carefully, he pulled me closer to him, burying his face in my neck. I could feel his large tusks scrape my skin, and his dreads fell about me like a curtain. He sighed, and his warm breath tickled the nape of my neck.

“I’m not great at this either,” He admitted, “All I know… Look, I know you don’t need anyone, and you’re used to being alone… But I’m just saying that if you… you know, if you wanted…” Another deep sigh, and he turned his head so that he could lightly kiss my skin beside him. “If you wanted… maybe we could be alone together.”

I bit my lip to keep from laughing again. My heart raced in my chest, and I wondered if he could feel it in my pulse beneath his lips.

“How would we be alone if we’re together?” I teased, trying to stifle the amusement in my voice.

“Gods damn it all, woman-” He grunted, leaning back.

He stopped when he saw my face; the smile on my lips. The light in my eyes. I opened and closed my mouth a few times, then dropped my gaze a little shyly. But I quickly returned, looking up at him again.

“You never shut up, you know,” I said, smirking a little, “And you actively seek to annoy me. Oh, and you have a bounty on your head-”

“Minor thing, really.” He replied, smirking too.

I stopped, raising an eyebrow at him. “ You never told me what that bounty was for…”

“Ah,... yes… That.” He sighed. “Good question…”

I felt him shift, stiffening slightly and adjusting his arms around me. He avoided my eyes as he traveled deep into his thoughts, evident from the furrowing of his broad brow. I relieved him of the pressure, tucking my head into the crook of his shoulder and waiting patiently.

“There was a woman,” He began hesitantly, “She used to come to the tavern I worked every night. And she always looked so sad... “ I tried not to let the sudden drop of my heart into the pit of my stomach make any outward affect, listening quietly. “I managed to befriend her, and it came pouring out that she was a noblewoman in a loveless marriage. I could always tell she was keeping something else from me. But she never told me what, nor did she ever even share her last name. I became her confidant, and she my benefactor.”

When he paused, I swallowed a dry lump in my throat. “Her confidant?” I echoed softly.

His rumbling chuckle rolled through his chest beneath my hand. “Perhaps she wanted more, I don’t know. She always seemed interested, but also horribly afraid of something.. So yes. Just her confidant and nothing more.”

I tried not to sigh with relief, and felt his big meaty hand stroke the back of my head lightly.

“I had a comfortable life for a time, but hearing her woes… I wanted to do something about it. Thought it was my duty to. So I arranged to have her smuggled out of the city, to someplace safe.” His fingers stroking my hair stilled, and I felt his breath against the top of my head. “I was younger, more brash. I didn’t think beyond a single day. And when I convinced her to leave her husband, when she trusted me, I signed her death warrant….” His lips brushed my hair and I felt some of the strands catch on his tusk. But he continued, unperturbed. “Her husband turned out to be the Sheriff, a dark and vicious man, powerful and with many contacts throughout the world. When he learned his wife had taken what he assumed to be an orc lover and who planned to steal her away…”

I leaned back to look at him, and he glanced at me through his dark lashes. I didn’t like seeing the way the sadness sat heavily in the shadows of his face. I reached up, cupping his cheek delicately. He leaned into my touch and covered my hand with his, closing his eyes briefly.

“He had her killed, and placed the bounty on my head. I’ve been on the run ever since. I shut out everyone else, never made another friend let alone anything else. Kept everyone at an arm’s length, for fear of ...” He dropped off, but I knew what words he left out.

I wasn’t sure what to say. My lips formed silent words, but none seemed fully suitable. So instead, I leaned forward and placed my forehead against his. He bowed into me, and his dreads fell around us like a curtain of privacy. When he opened his eyes again, he found mine waiting.

“I do not know if I can keep you safe-”

“I can take care of myself.” I cut him off, my gaze hardening. “And you’ll have a better chance with me than on your own. I know how the guild works. I know how they think. We’ll be able to stay one step ahead.”

He started to shake his head, but I stilled him with both of my hands. He met my eyes.

“You are a fool, but you are my fool now.” I told him firmly, but I felt my lips quiver a little as the same realization hit me. “So you’d better get used to it.”

He gave me his lopsided grin. “I am a made man then.”

I rolled my eyes, but couldn’t help returning his smile. Before I could react, he caught my lips with his again. Pressing into me so very tenderly, pushing my hair out of my face with his big hand and resting it at the base of my skull. I sank into him, breathing in his scent. Reveling in his touch. Knowing that this fall was going to hurt me hard, but not even caring.

Finally, I pulled back. “We need to get moving. We’ve already wasted enough time here.”

“Hardly wasted.” He replied, smirking.

I shook my head and pulled myself carefully out of his arms. “Sigi and Varius aren’t known for their forgiving natures. They’ll be on our trail as soon as they are able, if they aren’t already. But I know a safe house we can lay low for a little while.”

“Sounds magical.” He said, teasing me.

He obediently stood though, having to duck his head to fit in the short cave as he followed me out. One big booted foot kicked the fire off to the side, putting it out quite effectively. I moved over to Goda, brushing my hand down her long nose as I looked about, already thinking and planning.

“There’s no time to try and cover our old trail,” I told him as he came up behind me. “We’ll just have to erase our path from here.”

“Wait, what about you?” He asked me suddenly as I moved over to Goda’s side.

I paused, looking back at him. “What about me?”

His gaze hardened a little. “You still have a debt to pay.”

I was already shaking my head before he finished speaking. “You are already on the run from the guild. What difference does it make if I join you?” I raised a hand, cutting him off. “Shut up and don’t argue with me. I’ve already made up my mind.”

“So glad to hear it.”

We both jumped at the voice, and a chill shot down my spine. Before I could move, hands snaked out and grabbed my arms. Balam gave a shout, but he too was quickly subdued as more hands grabbed at him. Kicking his legs out from under him and forcing him to the ground. Goda tossed her head and whinnied loudly, but another man came out of the woodwork and grabbed her bridle to hold her still. I was dragged back, and I heard a familiar chuckle behind me.

“Miss me?” Came the sarcastic hiss in my ear.

My lips curled back in a snarl as I struggled against Varius’ hold. I felt my wound rip open again, felt the blood pouring down my side. I managed to catch sight of him over my shoulder. One corner of his forehead was still swollen and bruised, and he had a bandage wrapped over his shoulder. I twisted, but his hands were firmly clasped around my arms, and another guild member I didn’t know had joined him to pull me back.

“We have them secured, Guildmaster Warrick.” Varius proclaimed eagerly.

I spun, looking through the shadows in the forest for the source of the first voice. The voice that haunted me day and night. I found him, stepping out quietly from amid the trunks, fixing his gloves as if all of this was simply a mild inconvenience.

The Guildmaster was a tall man, with slender shoulders and narrow features. His red hair was pulled back into a neat bun at the top of his head, and his tanned skin flexed over his lithe muscles. I glared at him as he waved his hand, signaling the men behind me to force my shoulders down and kick me to my knees.

“When Sigi sent word that my dearest Iara had betrayed the guild, well, I could hardly believe it!” The Guildmaster began, slowly sauntering closer to me. He bent down grabbing my chin with one gloved hand. “I thought to myself, not Iara. Not my precious child. She would never.” He ran his thumb over my lip, his dark eyes tracing my face. “But here is evidence to the contrary, it would seem.”

He straightened, walking over to Balam. It had taken no less than five bounty hunters to subdue the orc, and he was panting from the exertion. The Guildmaster considered him, his face flat.

“You have caused quite a bit of trouble for me, orc,” He said, his voice as cold as ice, “Not only in time, but also the cost of one of my beloved children.”

Warrick turned back to me, sighing with a false regretfulness. “You know the punishment for abandoning your agreement, Iara.”

Varius eagerly yanked my head back, pressing a sharp blade against my throat. I bared my teeth angrily, and struggled. But their hold on me was too strong. I ignored the blinding pain growing in my side and the swirling edges of my vision, facing the Guildmaster stubbornly.

“Such a shame to waste one of my beloved daughters. So much wasted affection. You had such… potential.”

The way his voice dripped over his words made me sick. I almost shook as the memory of his affection laced across my skin again. My stomach turned in knots, but I tightened my jaw. I would not give him the satisfaction. I saw him moving to nod to Varius.

“WAIT!” Roared Balam.

Warrick paused his order, raising one brow at the prostrated orc.

“Let her go.”

“Balam!” I snapped, and had a knee dug into my back for my troubles.

“Why, praytell, should I ever do that?” The Guildmaster sounded amused.

The big orc squared his shoulders, looking at Warrick with fierce eyes. “The Sheriff will pay more for me alive.” He reminded him. “You let her go, and I will come with you willingly.”

I started to protest again, but Varius clamped his hand over my mouth.

“Let the big boys speak now,” He purred into my ear.

Warrick seemed to turn this offer over in his head, glancing over his shoulder at me briefly. Then he turned back to the orc. “The Sheriff has indicated no difference-”

“Let her go, and I can promise you, I can help you convince the Sheriff to raise my bounty. He would be pleased to have me to do with as he pleased.” Balam interrupted. “But you kill her, and you will have to take my head here.”

The Guildmaster shrugged. “You have yet to give me a real reason.”

“You said yourself,” Balam argued, “How much I have cost you. You could gain it back. Just let her go.”

I shook my head, tears stinging the corners of my eyes. I desperately wanted to speak. But Varius’ hand was clamped so tightly over my mouth that my jaw hurt. I struggled, wincing at the pain in my side.

After a long, strained silence, Warrick walked over to me. He cupped his hand under my chin, forcing me to look up at him. Varius obediently released my mouth, so the Guildmaster could look unhindered at my face. His beady eyes looked at me with cold disinterest, and I felt my throat go dry.

“I release you from your debt, my sweet little Iara.” He said. Then reached up his hand to push my hair out of my face again. “But if I ever see you again, there will be no end to the pain I will inflict upon you.”

Before I could speak, he snapped his fingers. A light sparked between them, and as the magic flowed, he pressed his thumb to my forehead. My eyes rolled back into my skull and I slumped to the ground.

...

UPDATE: Part Eight HERE

#orcs #orc boyfriend #enemies to lovers #monster boyfriend #OC #update #The bard's bounty #bard #orc bard #dnd #exophilia #slow burn #terato #romance

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aion-rsa · 4 years ago

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Best Fortnite Chapter 2: Season 5 Battle Pass Skins and Items

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Fortnite Chapter 2: Season 5’s Battle Pass is finally here, which means it’s time for parents everywhere to watch their wallets as children across the world prepare to throw money at Epic Games’ absurdly popular battle royale title.

In all seriousness, the launch of a new season really is the best time to get back into Fortnite, especially if you’re going for all the new items. This particular season’s unlocks are highlighted by Mandalorian cameos, gladiators, anime visuals, and a mysterious being known only as Mancake.

Here are the best Battle Pass unlocks for Fortnite Chapter 2: Season 5 that have been released so far:

Fortnite Chapter 2: Season 5’s Best Battle Pass Skins

Mandalorian

Season 5’s featured skin is none other than the star of The Mandalorian. I’m honestly a little surprised that it took this long for the Fortnite team to add this skin to the game’s collection, but it feels safe to bet that this skin is about to reach John Wick levels of popularity.

Mancake

I’m not sure what inspired this apparently sentient stack of pancakes to become a bounty hunter, but I wouldn’t mind if the Mancake story ends up getting the six seasons and a movie treatment.

cnx.cmd.push(function() { cnx({ playerId: "106e33c0-3911-473c-b599-b1426db57530", }).render("0270c398a82f44f49c23c16122516796"); });

Mave Shieldbreaker

Here’s a relatively simple skin that impresses in the details. This skin looks like a great set of WoW armor transported into the world of Fortnite, which is absolutely meant to be a compliment.

Kondor

It’s hard to tell from screenshots, but there’s actually a thin black mist protruding from Kondor’s helmet that raises questions about what, exactly, this being is. In any case, I love this design and how it invokes the “skeleton in an astronaut suit” look of retro sci-fi films.

Lexa

Who is willing to bet that someone on the Fortnite team has been playing a lot of Genshin Impact lately? The cel-shaded design of this skin actually looks great in the game and is reminiscent of the animated suit in Marvel’s Spider-Man and well as Fortnite’s previous Borderlands crossover.

Menace (Undefeated – Flame)

What the “final form” of the Menace skins lacks in creativity, it makes up for in intimidation. This is a great overall look that also taps into that raid tier WoW armor look. You really can’t go wrong with it.

Fortnite Chapter 2: Season 5’s Best Battle Pass Gliders

Hunter’s Skyblade

This isn’t the most elaborate glider we’ve ever seen, but its sharp wings and great color combos make it the perfect accessory for some of the game’s best new skins.

Razor Crest

Fortnite dives back into The Mandalorian vault yet again by adding the show’s iconic ship to the game as arguably the must-have glider of the new battle pass.

Flapjack Flyer

While I question how aerodynamic a pancake really is, I do think it’s a great idea to keep some butter in nearby satchels just in case of a butter-related emergency.

Eagle’s Form

If Fortnite‘s standard gliders just aren’t your thing, then you can always slap on a pair of wings and float to the field in style.

Hoverboard

Hey Fortnite McFly, you bojo, those boards don’t work on water…UNLESS YOU’VE GOT POWER!

Fortnite Chapter 2: Season 5’s Best Battle Pass Harvesting Tools

Ne’Jari Warhammer

This is another one of those items that isn’t the best looking in and of itself, but it compliments some other pieces and looks rather well.

Josie

Again, it seems wildly impractical (maybe dangerous) to put pancakes on the end of a gun, but I’m not about to argue with Mancake and his apparent success as a bounty hunter.

Beastfang

Well, the good news is that you can now run around Fortnite armed with what are essentially the Blades of Chaos from God of War. The bad news is that these are just harvesters and not proper weapons.

Victor’s Flail

If you’re going for the full gladiator look this season, then it’s hard to go wrong with these flails. Just be careful where you swing them unless you want to put an eye out.

Null Claws

They may ultimately be wildly impractical, but the Null Claws do come through in terms of style points. These are a great option if you’ve decided to embrace that anime life.

Fortnite Chapter 2: Season 5’s Best Battle Pass Baby Yoda

The Child

While it didn’t really fit into any of the other major categories, it felt like you should know that you can now carry Baby Yoda around in Fortnite. Just be sure to be careful with the internet’s adopted child.

And yes, I know that Baby Yoda has a name now. It’s just going to take a long time before any name but Baby Yoda becomes as accepted as The Child’s original moniker.

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thebiasrekkers · 5 years ago

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Make It Right [BTS Mafia!AU]

Plot: “It’s always darkest before the dawn…” It’s a dog-eat-dog world in Seoul, South Korea. One has to dwell in the shadows in order to reach for the light. What are you willing to sacrifice in order to feel the sunlight on your face? What will it take to drag you back into darkness? How long will the journey be to make it right?

Rating: NC-17 // NSFW

Genre: Series | Mafia!AU | Crime!AU | Angst | Romance/Fluff

Pairings: Jin x OC | Taehyung/Hoseok x OC | Yoongi/Jungkook x OC

Warnings: Graphic Violence, Heavy Language, Angst, Slow Burn, Smut

Previous Chapters: Prologue 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26

Links: FAQ || BTS Masterlist || Admin E’s AO3 || Admin E’s WP || [ REQUESTS ARE OPEN ]

Word Count: 2,450

Chapter 26: Young Forever

“Even when I fall and hurt myself, I keep running toward my dream.”

© thebiasrekkers (Admin E). All rights reserved. Reposting/modifying our work is prohibited. Translations are not allowed. Plagiarism/stealing is not tolerated by any means. Legal action will be taken in instances of theft.

Seoul – Cheongdam; Gangnam District South Korea

Dawn had not yet stretched its lovely red fingers toward the sky. She was still sleeping, waiting for the moon to take its rest after providing the world with its light. The world was cold; a chilly breeze rushed over Jimin’s body and he hugged the tweed jacket a little closer to his frame. He was accustomed to the shadows, the few people who continued to mill about on the streets serving as a faceless and nameless backdrop to his world.

A world of darkness.

Every day and night that passed, Jimin prayed that he would be able to greet the sun – to feel its warmth on his face. Spring was on the horizon, seemingly just around the corner. Despite the warmth that it provided, as it did every year, Jimin never truly felt he deserved the sun. He walked the dark and broken road that his brothers walked, not wanting them to face the hardships of the future alone. All in the name of a dream that they shared; together.

The dream was no longer a dream.

It was now reality.

And yet Jimin still couldn’t quite fathom it. For nearly ten years, it was a seemingly unattainable goal. Not that he didn’t believe in his Hyungs or the drive of his own younger brothers. They were determined and, as a result, he was equally determined to make impossibilities possible. Just as they depended on him, he regarded them as his own source of inspiration.

Without them, he had no dream of his own.

He didn’t know when he’d come to this realization, but it was something he kept very close to himself. Jimin never wanted to burden his brothers with the troubles that often circulated in his mind and in his heart. Years ago, when they were young and believed that their life path was already forged, Jimin thought that he would simply take over his family’s pastry shop. It was just something that was always assumed – a source of income readily provided for him. His passion for serving customers and throwing his heart into a cake seemed natural.

He foolishly assumed the same for the others.

Seokjin’s family was of old money – a line of aristocrats that continued to carry the tradition of handling the financial aspects of their little country town. Namjoon’s father was the local doctor and his mother ran the pharmacy. Hoseok’s line consisted of farmers and it was always believed that he, too, would take up farm work. Taehyung’s family were also farmers; their orchard was rich and always provided a bountiful harvest. Yoongi’s father was a police officer, slotted for the position of police chief in Hwaseong, and his mother owned a boutique.

Jungkook’s future was the only one that was uncertain; his parents dumping him off at an orphanage when he was still just an elementary student.

In a way, Jimin wondered if they were doing this for their maknae; the one whose place at the finish line was undetermined. He didn’t have the heart to outright ask Namjoon if this was the true endgame for them all. Because save for Jungkook, they had security; they had certainty.

They had a future.

At least this way, they all had a guaranteed one.

With this in mind, he was less worried about the path they carved to get to this point. Blood was shed and sacrifices were made. It was necessary in some respects. But now they could put it behind them. They could go back to being the people they once were. Wild and free from the chains that bound them; young forever.

That was the hope, anyway.

Jimin sighed, brushing some of his hair away from his face as he came to the end of the sidewalk. The crosswalk blinked and beeped, alerting all to stop. Traffic zoomed by in opposite directions of each other and people around him continued their conversations. Some were animated – boys consoling their beloveds. Others were the standard fussings of loved ones reassuring the people they were on the phone with that they would be home soon.

His own phone buzzed in his pocket and he pulled it out to see who was calling him. Seeing Jungkook’s name picture flash across the screen, he smiled and answered.

“Oh, Jungkook-ah,” he said with a smile, “what’s up?”

“Hyung, you look cold,” Jungkook said, causing Jimin to look around him. But as far as he could tell, he didn’t see his younger brother anywhere. He heard him laugh on the other line. “In front of you, Hyung. Across the street.”

Jimin looked across the street and saw Jungkook on the other side of the crosswalk, waving one arm back and forth excitedly. Jimin shook his head and chuckled, eliciting another laugh from Jungkook.

“Stay there. I’ll come to you.”

“Okay!”

He hung up the phone, dropping it back into his pocket just as the light changed. Everyone began moving at once and Jimin made sure to keep himself just a little bit ahead of the others. It was a short walk, but Jimin felt like he was literally walking down memory lane; experiencing everything they’d gone through in just a few short steps. When he reached the other side, it was Jeon Jungkook the man who was standing in front of him; not the boy.

I wonder when it was that he became an adult, he thought just as Jungkook reached out to wrap his arm around Jimin’s shoulder.

“Don’t worry, Hyung! I’ll warm you up!”

Jimin laughed at Jungkook’s wide smile. “This guy,” he said at the tail end of his laugh, “don’t be ridiculous.”

Jungkook pulled Jimin a little bit closer before releasing him, shoving his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket. “I can’t help it.” He shrugged. “I think we deserve to be a little silly, don’t you?” He saw Jungkook’s smile soften. “We can finally take a breath, right?”

The question took Jimin by surprise. In retrospect, it shouldn’t have, though. It seemed that Jungkook must have been worrying about their futures just as much as he was. Maybe even more. The end of the race was upon them and it felt like they’d been running toward that very end for so long.

So very long.

Reaching out with one hand, he ruffled Jungkook’s hair playfully – laughing when he saw his younger brother sidestep out of the way. Honestly, he didn’t know how to answer Jungkook. He wanted to tell him that he was right; that it was okay to breathe and take in all the clean air they’d been denied for all these years. But there was still a level of trepidation that existed in their world; as though things hadn’t been resolved quite yet.

Instead, he chose to change the subject.

“You’re out late, Jungkook-ah,” Jimin said, catching the look his younger brother gave him, “were you on your way home?”

He shook his head. “No, not yet.”

“Not yet?”

“I, uh,” Jungkook began, not sure if he wanted to finish what he was starting to say. Jimin watched him scratch the side of his head and he couldn’t help the laugh that spilled from him. Jungkook looked like a schoolboy who was about to get scolded. “…I was just taking a walk.”

“Did you go see Noona?”

Jungkook’s cheeks reddened and it wasn’t from the cold. Jimin laughed again, dodging a cuff that was aimed at his shoulder.

“Hyung, stop teasing me!”

“But you make it so easy.”

Jimin lightly bumped his shoulder against Jungkook’s, amused at the younger man hanging his head in defeat. He’d been caught. He decided to tease him some more.

“You could have just stayed the night.”

Jungkook balked at the idea, rearing his head back slightly as if Jimin had suggested he run for a political office of some kind.

Jimin shrugged. “What? It’s not like you haven’t stayed the night before.”

“That was different,” he said, shrugging both shoulders as he kicked the front of his shoe across the pavement.

“How so?”

“I was sick and could barely walk!” Jungkook pouted as he looked at him. “I’m a man who respects boundaries, okay?”

Jimin smiled, shaking his head as he sighed. “So what? You both were up binge watching some show or playing video games until she kicked you out?” He clicked his tongue against the back of his teeth. “Heartless, that woman.”

“Tell me about it!” Jungkook exclaimed suddenly, causing a few pedestrians to look in their direction. He cleared his throat loudly and Jimin stifled the urge to laugh loudly, biting his lower lip for an added measure. “I could have just slept on the couch.”

“Give it some time, Jungkook-ah,” he reassured, placing his hand on Jungkook’s shoulder to give it a squeeze, “she’s trying and showing she cares in her own way. Don’t read too much into it.”

Jungkook groaned. “Easy for you to say. She actually likes you.”

He raised a brow. “And you think she doesn’t like you?” Jimin scoffed, his hand falling back to his side. “I don’t recall her telling Seokjin Hyung that she was my girlfriend, do you?”

“That’s different.”

“How?”

“B-Because!” Jungkook looked genuinely flustered and Jimin smirked. “I mean, we hadn’t even discussed it before that night. Like, not officially anyway.” He rubbed his hair roughly. “I was going to ask her properly that night, y’know? But she up and said it like that and what was I supposed to do?”

Jimin shrugged. “She’s an assertive person, Jungkook-ah. You should know that by now. Are you even surprised that she took matters into her own hands?”

“No, but still…”

“She stole your thunder?”

“Yes, she did!”

“Don’t be so selfish,” Jimin said, narrowing his eyes at Jungkook even though he was still smiling, “let her have this. Give her control.” He looked away from Jungkook and stared up at the sky, his pace slowing a measure. “She had a lot of things thrown into her lap at once and I’m sure she’s still trying to process it all, even now.”

Jungkook slowed his pace down as well, casting Jimin a sidelong glance. “Are you talking about Yoongi Hyung?”

Jimin said nothing; he only nodded. He heard Jungkook sigh beside him and he suddenly stopped, causing Jimin to halt his steps just a couple of feet ahead of him. He turned around and looked at Jungkook whose gaze was now pointed to the ground.

“Jungkook-ah?”

“…I know I should feel guilty for Yoongi Hyung,” he said softly, his eyes still cast downward, “and I know that he’s doing his best to pretend that everything is normal. He doesn’t treat me any differently.”

Jimin remained silent. He didn’t want to interrupt what Jungkook was trying to say; what he was trying to process and properly digest. In a way, he understood fully what was torturing Jungkook. He could grasp the concept more than he let on. But this was something that he knew Jungkook wanted to understand and handle on his own. He wouldn’t interfere, no matter how much he may want to.

No matter how much he cared for her.

“But sometimes I wish he would.” Jungkook finally lifted his gaze to meet Jimin’s, his brows furrowing as the worry lines formed on his forehead. “Sometimes I just wish Yoongi Hyung would punch me, curse me, and throw me away. It would hurt less if he did.”

He watched Jungkook avert his eyes. Sighing, Jimin took a step toward him so that he could close the gap. Once again, he reached out to ruffle Jungkook’s hair. However, Jungkook didn’t step away. It almost looked like it hurt him slightly, but the real pain was tearing him apart from the inside. Jimin knew that look; the look of one who was bottling all their emotions inside in an attempt to appear normal and unfazed on the surface.

It was the look of a man who was doing his best to bury everything inside.

“It would hurt more to deny your heart what it wants, Jungkook-ah.” Jungkook looked up at him, his smile long gone despite Jimin’s remaining. “Yoongi Hyung? He’s a prime example of what you shouldn’t do. He may say otherwise, but I’m sure he regrets what he did and how things wound up. But you know what? That’s his burden to bear, not yours.”

“Jimin Hyung…”

“And regardless of the intent, Eden Noona was damaged by it. She was hurt and that’s something that Yoongi Hyung must come to terms with. That wound is deep, and it’s probably festered over the years.” His hand slid from Jungkook’s hair and fell back to his shoulder. “That is a scar on her heart that won’t go away. It will always be there. The only thing that you can do, what you’re now obligated to do, is acknowledge that pain and help her get through it. Not erase it.”

Jungkook blinked, seemingly unsure of what he was supposed to say next. But Jimin shook his head and smiled, patting his brother’s shoulder gently.

“By claiming to be your girlfriend, she’s giving you that opportunity. She wants to know what you’ll do with it.”

She’s stubborn and doesn’t believe she deserves to be loved by anyone.

“She wants to see if you’re going to be genuine from start to finish, wherever that might be.”

She doesn’t believe anyone will stay by her side; that she’ll be abandoned at a moment’s notice. Noona worries about that as much as you do, Jungkook-ah.

“So, the only thing you can do is continue being who you are; because you’re the one she chose.”

Jungkook’s eyes seemed to brighten and he nodded, his expression showcasing his newfound determination. They were now embracing the sunlight. They could enjoy the fruits of their labor and now, more than ever, could share it with someone.

“I…I gotta go, Hyung,” he said, turning to head in the opposite direction. “I’ll see you at home!”

Jimin watched as Jungkook began running down the sidewalk from where he’d originally come from. He paused, turning to look back at Jimin and he waved. Jimin returned the gesture and then saw him disappear into the small crowd of people.

It has to be you, Jungkook-ah…

When he was no longer in his sights, Jimin sighed and looked up at the sky. The sun was starting to paint itself across the sky. Shoving his hands into his pockets, he closed his eyes and waited for dawn to break through the clouds; for it to light up the world around him.

…because she didn’t choose me.

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thecartoonuniverse · 6 years ago

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Sad about Adventure Time Ending and Looking for Something else to Watch?

Or just want to know about the new cartoons series coming up later this year or in 2019? Well, here’s a list! Let me just say we have a lot to look forward to...

2018

The Dragon Prince (September 14th, Netflix):

The Dragon Prince is an epic fantasy series by the head writer and director of Avatar: the Last Airbender. In the magical land of Xadia, magic comes from six primal sources. But when human mages create a seventh kind of magic, Dark Magic — they begin capturing and harvesting the unique magical creatures they need as ingredients. This sparks a catastrophic war between Xadia and the Human Kingdoms. Three kids from opposite sides of the conflict — two human princes, and the elven assassin who was sent to kill them — discover a secret that could change everything. They decide to join forces and go on an epic journey that may be their only hope of ending the war, and restoring peace to both their worlds.

Hilda (September 21st, Netflix):

Hilda follows the journey of a fearless blue-haired girl as she travels from her home in a vast magical wilderness full of elves and giants to the bustling city of Trolberg, where she makes new friends and discovers mysterious creatures who are stranger –and sometimes more dangerous– than she ever expected. Based on graphic novels by Luke Pearson, who storyboarded for Adventure Time.

She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (November 16th, Netflix):

She-Ra and the Princesses of Power is the story of an orphan named Adora, who leaves behind her former life in the evil Horde when she discovers a magic sword that transforms her into the mythical warrior princess She-Ra. Along the way, she finds a new family in the Rebellion as she unites a group of magical princesses in the ultimate fight against evil.

3 Below (December 21, Netflix):

3 Below will focus on two royal teenage aliens and their bodyguard who flee a surprise takeover of their home planet by an evil dictator and crash land in Arcadia. Now on the run from intergalactic bounty hunters, they struggle to blend in and adapt to the bizarre world of high school all the while attempting to repair their ship so they can return and defend their home planet.

Care Bears: Unlock the Magic (Boomerang):

Care Bears: Unlock the Magic sends the Care Bears on the road for the first time, exploring never-before-seen areas surrounding Care-a-lot called The Silver Lining.

2019

Owl House (Disney Channel):

Owl House is a horror-comedy series that follows Luz, a self-assured teenage human girl who accidentally stumbles upon a portal to the Demon Realm. There she befriends a rebellious witch, Eda, and an adorably tiny warrior, King. Despite not having magical abilities, Luz pursues her dream of becoming a witch by serving as Eda's apprentice at the Owl House and ultimately finds a new family in an unlikely setting.

Amphibia (Disney Channel):

The show tells the story of Anne Boonchuy, a self-centered 13-year-old who is magically transported to the fictitious world of Amphibia, a rural marshland full of frog-people. With the help of an excitable young frog named Sprig, Anne will transform into a hero and discover the first true friendship of her life.

101 Dalmatian Street (Disney Channel):

101 Dalmatian Street is inspired by Dodie Smith's 1956 novel and Walt Disney's 1961 One Hundred and One Dalmatians. But it is has been updated and moved to contemporary London. It depicts the adventures of eldest Dalmatian siblings Dylan and Dolly, parents Doug and Delilah, and ninety-seven younger puppies, all with names beginning with "D", who live all by themselves at the titular address.

Infinity Train (Cartoon Network):

Infinity Train is about an intelligent, albeit frustrated, girl named Tulip who—for reasons unknown—is trapped on a train full of infinite worlds. Accompanied by conjoined robots Glad-One and Sad-One, Tulip is determined to solve the mystery of the train and find her way home.

Victor and Valentino (Cartoon Network):

In the small quiet town of Monte Macabre, two total opposite half-brothers search about the town for adventure and find strange and supernatural happenings with the help of their supernatural grandmother.

Thundercats Roar! (Cartoon Network):

Staying true to the premise of the original series, Lion-O and the ThunderCats — Tygra, Panthro, Cheetara, Wilykat, and Wilykit — barely escape the sudden destruction of their home world, Thundera, only to crash land on the mysterious and exotic planet of Third Earth. Lion-O, the newly appointed Lord of the ThunderCats, attempts to lead the team as they make this planet their new home. A bizarre host of creatures and villains stand in their way, including the evil Mumm-Ra, Third Earth’s wicked ruler who will let nothing, including the ThunderCats, stop his tyrannical reign over the planet.

Villainous (Cartoon Network Latin America):

Villainous is the story of Black Hat Org., run by Black Hat and his team of three less-villainous aides. Black Hat is trying to sell various evil inventions created by Dr. Flug and desperate to achieve his evil aspirations. However, things usually end up going wrong for him as the brilliant innovations tend to have small and often comical flaws. Has already been airing Orientation Videos and Shorts on YouTube for a while, but a pilot will be aired soon, with a full series hopefully to follow.

Golpea Duro ¡Hara! (Cartoon Network Latin America):

Golpea Duro Hara! (Hit Hard Hara!) is the story of Hara, the only female fighter in the world, and together with her friend Tesu, she fights against the discrimination suffered by the brutal men who populate the planet. But Hara has a hidden side: a vicious transformation that frustrates her plans!

Glitch Techs (Nickelodeon):

Glitch Techs is an adventure-comedy following two newly recruited kids as they battle video game monsters that come to life in the real world.

High Guardian Spice (Crunchyroll):

In High Guardian Spice, the lives of four fierce girls, Rosemary, Sage, Thyme and Parsley, converge at High Guardian Academy, the one place where they can stumble towards adulthood while becoming the heroes they’ve always admired. As they master the ways of battle and sorcery, our foursome form allegiances and comical kinships, uncover legacies and betrayals, and discover their true identities while preparing to protect the world from an ominous unknown threat.

Carmen Sandiego (Netflix):

In the upcoming animated series produced by Houghton Mifflin Harcourt, Carmen Sandiego is back and ready for a new crop of international capers packed with thrilling adventure and intrigue. This fresh take presents an intimate look into Carmen's past where viewers will not only follow her escapades but also learn WHO in the world is Carmen Sandiego and WHY she became a super thief.

Seis Manos (Netflix):

Set in Mexico in the 1970’s era, Seis Manos centers on three orphaned martial arts warriors who join forces with a DEA agent and a Mexican Federal to battle for justice after their beloved mentor is murdered on the streets of their tiny border town.

Last Kids on Earth (Netflix):

The Last Kids on Earth follows 13-year-old Jack Sullivan and a band of suburban middle schoolers who live in a decked-out tree house, play video games, gorge themselves on candy, and battle zombies in the aftermath of the monster apocalypse. It’s a hilarious series filled with wisecracking kids, crazy gadgets, a lifetime supply of zombies and giant-sized monsters.

Twelve Forever (Netflix):

The series centers on 12-year-old Reggie, whose desire to remain a child is so powerful it creates a fantasy world in which she never has to grow up. She’s joined by her friends Todd and Esther, who visit this amazing world to live out their superhero fantasies and escape the responsibilities of impending adulthood.

Wizards (Netflix):

Wizards brings together the three disparate worlds of trolls, aliens and wizards who have found themselves drawn to Arcadia. The final chapter of the Tales of Arcadia culminates in an apocalyptic battle for the control of magic that will ultimately determine the fate of these supernatural worlds that have now converged.

Young Justice: Outsiders (January 4th, DC Universe):

Young Justice: Outsiders is the third season of Young Justice. The backdrop for the season is described as being one that will touch on "all corners of the DC universe," and that certainly seems to be the case considering the sheer number of bad guys discussed and shown in the trailer. The team will be tasked with stopping a metahuman trafficking ring, as well as dealing with the "intergalactic arms race for control of these super--powered youths." You can also count on new heroes Arrowette, Spoiler, and Thirteen joining in the fight.

gen:Lock (January 2019, Rooster Teeth):

In gen:LOCK, Earth’s last free society is on the losing side of a global war, and recruits a diverse team of young pilots to control the next generation of mecha—giant, weaponized robot bodies. These daring recruits will find, however, that their newfound abilities come at no small cost. As Chase leaves behind his life as a fighter pilot to become the first candidate for the program, he finds his endurance, as well as his very identity, will be tested beyond anything he ever imagined.

Undone (Amazon):

Undone is a half-hour animated dramedy that explores the elastic nature of reality through its central character, Alma. After getting into a near-fatal car accident, Alma discovers she has a new relationship with time and uses this ability to find out the truth about her father’s death.

Close Enough (TBS):

Close Enough is a surreal take on transitioning from 20-something to 30-something. The show centers on a married couple juggling such everyday challenges as parenthood, friendship, ham theft, stripper clowns and choosing the right daycare. Was supposed to air in 2017 or 2018, but no word of a release date yet, so I assume it will be in 2019.

Hero High (February 14th, ???):

Not many details are known about this show, but it will be a Legend of Zelda high school parody. Source

Long Gone Gulch (Internet):

Two screwups, Snag and Rawhide, find themselves bestowed as the new Sheriff’s of a strange world adrift in an ever moving dust cloud. Long Gone Gulch holds the inhabitants of myths, urban legends and folklore from around the world. They travel through the land when they are needed and encountering all manner of adventures along the way.

Hazbin Hotel (???):

Hazbin Hotel is the story of Charlie, the princess of Hell, as she pursues her seemingly impossible goal of rehabilitating demons to peacefully reduce overpopulation in her kingdom. She opens a hotel in hopes that patients will be "checking out" into Heaven. While most of Hell mocks her goal, her devoted partner Vaggie, and their first test subject, adult film-star Angel Dust, stick by her side. When a powerful entity known as the "Radio Demon" reaches out to Charlie to assist in her endeavors, her crazy dream is given a chance to become a reality.

Gorillaz (Internet):

A ten-episode show based off of the fictional band. Might not be happening apparently.

2020

Solar Opposites (TBS):

Solar Opposites follows a family of aliens who leave their planet and settle in suburban America.

And that about covers it! Let me know if I missed any of the big ones!

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alliswell21 · 5 years ago

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Unmasked ~ Eighteen

Written by: ~ M ~

Prompt #88

Rating: E (Explicit) This fic will contain consensual sexual content; mild language; discussions of injuries, illness, and amputations in a historical setting; discussions of miscarriage; discussions of minor character suicide; references to non consensual sexual situations.

My thanks to the moderators of @everlarkficexchange for always running an entertaining event, and for playing along with a little fun and mystery. Also my thanks to @alliswell21 and everyone else who has offered up their inbox for submissions. Please enjoy the eighteenth chapter of this adventure. Previous installments can be found here. Regards,

~ M ~

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~~ Chapter 18 ~~

The Harvest Festival lasts slightly longer than two weeks and usually provides us with a healthy income to sustain us through winter and well into spring. It is the culmination of three seasons of overlapping plantings, crop maintenance, and harvest. Hours upon hours of work. Everdeen becomes a hive of life with visitors from all across Southeastern Panem and sometimes even further. Booths are set up for the sale of wares and food treats. There are games for the children to play and contests for the adults. Planting the bulbs that will weather the winter in soil and hopefully flourish in spring carries a festive air in the task, as though we are planting the seeds of hope for the bounty of the present year to carry over into the next. In the evenings, the world comes alive with music and dancing, the lively reels and jigs of country tunes rather than the stuffier songs of the city and high society. Other than spring, it is my favourite time of year.

All through the day, I am occupied with sales and bargaining. Talking with tenants and people who need my attention. Normally my father would handle most of this while I stand beside him. This year, Father is busy dancing with nearly every female in Everdeen, from my mother down to Sae, leaving the bulk of the real work to me. It is heartening to see him so happy, waving away Dr. Aurelius’ concerns and insisting that he has never felt better.

When I mention this to Peeta, who has not left my side all day, he smiles. “Katniss, he is handing Everdeen to you. You have kept it running nearly an entire year. This festival is all due to you. It is your harvest.”

I am not certain how to feel about that and loop my arm through Peeta’s as we watch the festivities. My foot taps to the beat, but I know better than to ask Peeta for a dance, despite my longing to join. I do not wish to cause him discomfort, no matter that I could never feel shame or embarrassment when partnered with him.

As the night winds down, I find that I am exhausted. Once I am changed for sleep and laid out on the sofa in our room, my head resting on Peeta’s thighs as he reads through correspondence he left neglected today. His fingers comb through my hair, mine trace absent patterns on his knee, yet I can tell that something bothers him.

“What news, husband?”

“A friend. From the infantry. He has returned home to troubles. His brother passed, leaving the land to him. It took some time for him to return home and in the absence of a landlord, a large number of the tenants left. He’s in need of hands to help harvest or his wheat crop will be left to die in the fields.”

I pause in my aimless drawing on his knee and consider this. The answer is evident, and I know Peeta has already reached the same conclusion, much as we both dislike it. “How far?”

“The southern half of East Panem. With a hard day of riding Cicero, I could be there in a day.”

“You should go,” I say quietly.

“And miss the festival? Katniss, I do not wish to leave you.” I sit up then, to face him, maintaining as much of a stoic expression as I can manage.

“Nor do I wish you to leave. However,” I say before he can argue. “We will be quite fine here. The Harvest Festival is perhaps the easiest part of running Everdeen, and you will regret not going to his aid if you remain.”

Peeta tilts his head as he examines me and I smile, overcome with affection for my husband. I trace the scars on his face and then lean forward to kiss the edge of them, down along his jaw. “You never told me how you came by these marks.”

“Musket fired too close to the ground while I was seeing to a wounded drummer. Had to move us both to safety before I could continue, and you know what burning clothes stuck to skin can cause.”

“Hm,” I kiss down his throat, already plotting how to persuade him to take me to bed. “When will you leave to help your friend?”

“Tomorrow, I should think,” he says, the anguish in his voice a mirror of the pain in my heart. “He sounds in desperate need.”

“You should offer additional work and pay to several of our tenants. Take extra hands with you.”

“If that is alright with you.”

“Ask for volunteers. How long will you be gone?”

“I will not be gone longer than two weeks, I should think.”

“Then I shall see you back here before the end of the festival.”

“Yes,” he gasps as I shift to straddle him and press my body into his to feel how aroused he is already.

“Is that a promise, husband?”

“It is a promise, wife.”

“Promise me you will dance with me when you return? Just once, Peeta. It can be a slow tune.”

“Katniss,” he groans as I sink my teeth into his shoulder. He curses and promises me a dance.

My mind grasps onto the thought that now would be the perfect time to say it. To tell Peeta of my thoughts just this morning. Three such simple words that he uttered in the dark as though they were no more heavy than an exhale. But did he? Or did I dream the soft sigh of his love against my brow? I do not know, I was barely awake. I bite my tongue and kiss him instead, wild and uninhibited.

Peeta gathers me in his arms then, holding me close to his chest as he heaves us off the sofa and carries me across the room to our bed. I whine slightly, perturbed at being moved, but as he lays me on our mattress, I grasp hold of him and make demands.

As always, he readily gives me what I want. What I need. Clothes and wooden leg discarded on the floor. Whispered words and pleas, and a dance in the darkness. For what is intercourse but a series of bodily movements in harmony…a dance. I demand that he give me more and the creaking of our bed gives evidence to the desperate meeting of our bodies, almost violent in our need.

His hand clenches in my hair, twisting it around his fist, pulling tight against my scalp and bending my body. His moans roll over my skin as he plunges into me again and again. The short bursts of pain cause strange ripples of pleasure that overwhelm and steal my breath. He is holding back, waiting for me to succumb first. It is this knowledge combined with the sound of my name on his lips, a desperate breath of utter longing, that tips me over the edge into blissful, rapturous oblivion.

The rest of the world falls away to nothing as I revel in my release, in the feel of Peeta’s triumphant shout against my neck before he begins to thrust madly. I wonder for one second if we might break the bed and then he stops, his back arched and his head thrown back in exquisite relief, his abdomen clenching and his fingers tight in my hair.

The way he holds me after provides such an exquisite contrast. So perfectly gentle and soothing. His whispers are more effective in drawing me down into deep slumber than a lullaby, and yet…and yet…

My dreams that night are wild and reckless. A man cloaked in shadows and moonlight illuminating only part of his face, unending pleasure stemming from his touch. He takes pleasure from me like an animal, on all fours with his fingers digging into soft flesh, mine holding tight to bed linens and my throat dry with screams of pleasure I cannot voice for fear of waking the whole house. Whatever he takes from me, he gives back tenfold. The crazed thrusting of uncontrollable lust reaching deep inside me to places I’d never known a man could touch.

Then he takes me with his mouth, my legs splayed wide, immodest and desperate, pinned to our bed beneath his strong hands. The delicate scrape of his tongue on me, marking me. Branding me as his as I shatter again and again. And again. It is as though he is determined to ensure that I cannot forget him in his absence.

I am certain my legs have become useless until he settles me on top of him and I become the one crazed and desperate in motion. I long to tell him that I could never forget him. He has rooted himself in my heart, seared himself beneath my skin where I could no more remove my love for him than I can my own scars. But speech proves impossible for me.

Yet, in the moments when I am coherent enough to recognise the blue eyes watching me as I dance over his body with abandon, I capture the words he moans to me in his ecstasy and hold them close to my heart.

Yours.

I’m yours, Katniss.

Yours, yours, yours.

Everything I am is yours.

Always.

And…

I love you.

… I love you so…desperately…deeply…

I reach a final, tremendous peak with those words floating in the sultry air around us and then dreams yield their hold to the dark, blissful oblivion of restful, dreamless slumber.

In the morning, I am alone. The window shut against a driving autumn rain, and a single orange flower left for me atop of Peeta’s sketchbook, tied to it with a green ribbon. I haven’t the heart to look at the drawing he left me just yet, knowing that there will be no more for some time.

Then the evidence that my dreams last night were far more real than they were imagined begins to accumulate. My wild hair and the nearly wrecked state of the linens on our bed. The teeth and suction marks on my shoulders and breasts and even the back of my neck, the throbbing ache between my thighs. The ten round bruises on my hips where Peeta would have grasped hold of me as he loved me from behind, savage and wild and beautiful. Another set on my thighs where he would have held my legs secure to the bed while he made love to me with his mouth, again and again. My knees weaken at the very thought of it.

Worst of all, though, is the hollow feeling in my breast as I rise and move to the window and know. Peeta’s gone. He left before I could tell him that I love him too. How stupid of me not to reciprocate the words when he spoke them last night.

I rest my forehead on the cool glass, holding the sheet from our bed wrapped around me, my shoulders and my feet bare, hair a wild tangle down my back until Mary finds me like that.

“Mrs. Mellark?” she says my name like a question and I lift my chin. I am not some sniveling, weak willed, lovesick schoolgirl. And I will not act like one.

Peeta will return within the fortnight. I can tell him then. He promised me he would, and if I know one thing about my husband it is that he can be trusted to keep his promises.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“This is good,” I say as my eyes skim over the written out history. It is far more thorough than I could have hoped. “Could she have returned to any of these places?”

“It is unlikely. She seems to have stayed for as long as she could,” Haymitch says and taps one line near the bottom. My cheeks burn as I realise what he is trying to tell me without saying it.

“Oh no. The poor thing.” I glance up at my uncle as he fixes me in place with a penetrating gaze.

“You are not appalled?”

“I am only appalled at the lengths women must sometimes go to in order to feed and house both themselves and the ones they love,” I say as I fold the pages of parchment together. “There are three years missing yet in your history for her.”

“I have some leads to fill that hole. I shall keep looking…unless you wish to stop. We may only find worse things than this”

“No,” I say and glance briefly over the crowd that has gathered for the afternoon games. The rain did not last long enough to force a cancellation of the festivities. The muddy fields have in fact drawn more people, it seems. Those eager for the fresh air and the tempting scents of meat pies on the cool autumn breeze. Children play, ignoring parental sighs that they will need another bath if they are not careful.

“No,” I repeat to Haymitch. “I want to find her, if she still lives. And the child.”

Haymitch scoffs at this and I scowl at him. “You think that wise?”

“You think Peeta would want to leave his half sister to suffer in an orphanage somewhere? Or worse?”

“There is no knowing who the child’s father is, nor what she has grown to become. She would be nearly seven by now.”

“I am aware of that.”

“It is also possible that your husband already knows of her existence and chose to do nothing…”

My neck heats as I consider the possibility but then I shake my head. “No. He would not. If he knows, then he has been searching for her as well. Which leads me to believe he does not know.”

“You will not be able to keep your search secret from him much longer if you are determined to save both,” Haymitch says with uncharacteristic gentleness.

“Perhaps combining our efforts will produce faster results then. When he returns, can you provide him with your contacts?” Haymitch grunts, but he nods in agreement.

I wonder how on earth I am supposed to explain to Peeta that he has a sister, and that I already plan on adopting her, if possible. She belongs with her family, and if she has none now, then her family is here at Everdeen. And how am I to explain the existence of the child without shattering his heart? How to tell him that his mother was reduced to prostitution for a number of years. My heart aches at the thought of it and it is the only reason that I hope he already found this piece of his mother’s journey, so that I will not be the one breaking his heart.

The child will be easier to locate than the mother, it seems, and so I tell Haymitch to focus on that for now. “But we are not conceding defeat on finding Nancy, do you understand?”

“I understand completely,” Haymitch tells me with a strange look in his eyes. Before I can summon a retort, my sister calls for me.

“Katniss, I need to speak with you.”

“Can it wait?” I ask as I notice the massive hay bales being rolled in for the next contest. I am meant to judge who is able to secure and lift their bale the fastest. It occurs to me that it is a shame Peeta is missing this particular contest. With the strength in his arms, he would excel at a contest such as this.

“No it cannot wait,” Prim insists.

I sigh and motion for her to speak. I am developing a headache. Peeta has been gone four days already with no word from him, Haymitch has brought me both good news and complications in our search, and Maysilee is recovering from a slight fever. While the festival at least is a resounding success, it still leaves me drained. At the end of the day, I toss and turn, unable to find sleep despite my fatigue. The empty space in my bed taunts me with unspoken words and fears I cannot explain. The drawing he left me was of me as I slept, the words along the bottom of the page nearly bringing tears to my eyes.

Leaving you is near impossible, and so I go while you still sleep. Had you opened your eyes before I left, and looked at me as you have done these past days, I might never muster the will to depart. Yours always, ~ P ~

“I’ve had a letter from Rory,” Prim’s words intrude on my musings.

“Are we on a given name basis with him now then?” I ask, a little testy. She frowns at me and then I notice her quivering lip.

“I do not know anymore. I told him of your plans to take me to Capitol for a season and now I fear he is withdrawing his interest!”

“Mother and Father agreed to the season as well. Pester them about this,” I mutter and she huffs angrily.

“They only agreed because you insisted! It’s not my fault you regret how your husband hunt turned out. Do you know what Rory said to me about this whole season and more suitors for me fiasco?”

“I haven’t the faintest idea.”

“Perhaps that is for the best,” she says and I nod.

“If he cannot handle the competition for your hand then his affections are not strong enough to last.” The competitors for the game have taken their places and I give the signal to begin.

Prim chokes on a sob. “I don’t want to him to have competition! I want to marry him! And you’ve frightened him off!”

“Prim,” I say as I turn to her and her watery eyes slice through me. I cannot stand to see her in pain. Perhaps this season idea was a poor decision, but she agreed to it, seemed eager even until now.

“All because you’re not in love with your husband! That does not mean that I will be miserable with my choice, nor do you need to make me miserable with mine! He was going to propose on his next visit, I am sure of it, and now he won’t!” She spins on her heel then, headed straight for the floor as bales of hay slowly rise.

“Prim!” I shout after her but she does not respond.

There’s a shout of warning and then one of the bales descends, the rope sliding through grasping hands and more yells fill the air. I run for her but I am too far away. Joe reaches her first, shoving Prim out of the way of the hay before it crashes to the ground. It disintegrates in a fragrant cloud. Several hands grasp hold of the rope at the same time and heave. With no weight, the hook swings free and wild.

A warning lodges in my throat as it flies up towards Joe and slices him straight up his spine.

He shouts and falls to the ground beside Prim as pandemonium breaks loose. Prim reaches for Joe, crying out apologies and attempting to see to his wound. Joe begins to screech.

“Hands off, witch! Devil take you and your herbs! I’ll not let you drag me to hell!”

Prim retreats as I glower at the man’s display. Everyone steps back from him as he holds his torn jacket and shirt together and waves a bloody hand at us to keep us distant. He raves about witches and sorcery. We are all too stunned to know what to do.

Madge pushes her way through the crowd and slaps Joe across the face. “Cease, man! I am no witch. Come with me and stop making a fuss!”

She grabs Joe by the arm and drags him away. He goes, surprisingly docile. I hurry to Prim’s side, although Mother and Father are already with her.

“I am fine,” she insists, taking their help to stand. The crowd around us whispers and wavers in shock and uncertainty. “But Joe…”

I squeeze Prim’s hand. “I will assist Madge.”

I scurry to follow them, leaving Prim with Father and Mother seeing to her. I pass by Haymitch as he tries to calm a near hysterical Effie and I leave him to it. Assured of Prim’s well being, I care for nothing but my husband’s injured friend — a friend who just saved my sister’s life, although I am certain he despises me.

I am able to follow their trail, a handprint left here and there that leads me to the house, to the bathing room. I fetch Mother’s healing kit along the way and enter the room, gasping and nearly dropping the basket as I take in the sight before me.

“Oh wonderful. Kitten has decided to join us,” Joe snarls as I stare at him…or rather… her…

Torn, bloody bindings and clothes litter the floor. Joe sits on the bench beside the tub, facing me, stripped bare to the waist. Madge bends over her back, her eyes wide as she stares at me.

“Katniss… shut the door,” she says in a wavering voice. I do so, too shocked to do differently. I lock it for good measure and gape, my mind grasping at connections and hints that line up with dizzying speed.

“You… you…”

“I have breasts,” Joe states. “Quite nice ones, too.” She fondles them for a second and smirks at me. “I can understand you gaping at them. I have all of the other baggage that comes with being a woman in this world as well. Would you care to see?”

“I…” I have no idea what to say.

“I could use your help, Katniss.” Madge’s words bring me to my senses. “I’m quite good at sewing but have never sewn human flesh and… I do not know what herbs we will need.”

“Are you certain your patient will accept such witchcraft?” I ask and Joe gasps with pain and shuts her eyes for a moment before leveling me with a fierce look.

“I meant no insult to your sister. She has been nothing but kind to me. And I will… I will apologize to her later. But I could not let them discover me in such a public manner.”

“You had better apologize. You caused a shameful scene,” Madge scolds and Joe turns slightly to glare at her.

“And you slapped me, your highness!”

“I needed to get you out of there before you revealed yourself!”

“You knew?” I ask Madge and she sighs.

“Katniss, please,” she says again instead of responding to my accusation. “I will explain later. Right now I truly need your help. I am quite out of my depth here.”

I move to Madge’s side and help her clean the wound, taking too much pleasure in Joe’s muffled grunts as we warn her of the coming pain before we pour the spirits to kill infections on her opened skin. She releases a string of colourful curses that has both Madge and I sharing a glance.

“For shame, Mr. Mason! Such foul language in front of ladies,” I say in my most scandalized tone. Joe hangs her head and shakes it.

“Ladies,” she sneers and then laughs. It is precisely the reaction I was hoping for, distracting Joe from the pain as Madge carefully stitches her ragged flesh back together. “Neither of you count as ladies by any conventional definition and well you both know it. Your highness with your scandalous affair before your late departed husband was even cold in his grave. And you Kitten, with your insatiable lust, pouncing on your poor husband at every turn, demanding he tussle you in the stables, out in meadows—“

“It was by a lake,” I interject and she scoffs. “If you are going to accuse me, at least ensure that your accusations are correct.”

“As I said… Neither of you are truly ladies, only masquerading as one of them.”

Madge and I share another look, colour rising in both of our cheeks. The way Johanna says the word ladies makes it sound like it would be more of an insult to actually be a lady in her eyes. Madge looks away first when Joe releases another string of curse words.

“Here,” I say, offering my hand to Joe to hold through the pain. She bats it away and I return it to assisting Madge. “So then I assume your given name is not really Joseph…”

“Johanna,” she gasps and then releases more curse words. “My name is Johanna. Jo still works for short. That way, when someone tries to call me Joseph the way her majesty here did, I can tell them no one calls me Joseph. Explains why I don’t readily respond to it, and it’s not a lie.”

Madge’s face reveals nothing. She purses her lips and concentrates on her stitches.

“What is your story then, Jo?” I ask gently. “What leads you to dress as a man and fool everyone around you?”

She laughs sardonically and another stream of expletives makes me blush hot. For a moment, I think perhaps she will not share but then she takes a deep breath and speaks. “Same thing what makes the two of you hide your true natures. Disapproval. My father thought to marry me off to a rector. A man four times my age with two wives already dead in the ground and a belief that there is no ill that cannot be solved by a decent whipping. My dear Mama agreed. She thought the influence of the church was the only —“ More curse words echo off the stone walls and Madge halts her sewing for a moment until Johanna regains some composure. “—The only way to cure me of my evil nature.”

“What makes you so evil? I’ve seen no signs of devil worship about,” I say with a great deal of doubt in my voice. She turns her head to peer at me over one creamy, perfectly shaped shoulder and a sickening feeling fills me as I realise that she is in fact rather beautiful, even with her cropped short hair. A collection of pixie features I took for a boy’s in truth belonging to a lovely young woman perhaps four or five years my senior. She smiles at me and it brings me no comfort.

“My parents discovered that I have as great a thirst for a juicy cunt as I do for a big fat cock.” My face flames with her words but I allow myself no other visible reaction. Her words are meant to shock me. I will not give her the satisfaction. “I never saw the reason why my father and brothers could be so freely promiscuous, could fuck whatever they wanted… women, men, goats… without repercussions, but I was forbidden a single loving affair with a girl I loved.”

“Really, Johanna,” Madge admonishes.

“Allow me some fun, your highness. My back is shredded, I shall have yet another ugly scar, and unless Kitten here takes pity on me, I might be out of a home within the hour.”

“You are not exactly endearing yourself to her with that kind of talk,” Madge says and then an awful thought occurs to me.

“Does Peeta know?”

“Does Peeta know?” Johanna sneers again and my stomach feels as though I had just jumped from a great height.

I think of his words… one night of reckless abandon because he felt sorry for himself… surely he wouldn’t then travel with that person as a companion.

Madge says her name in a warning tone but Johanna fixes me with glittering brown eyes, her gaze unwavering as though she knows the precise direction of my thoughts.

“Of course Peeta knows. He’s been helping me maintain my ruse for years now. In fact, this is about how he found out. I refused my betrothal and when my dearest parents tried to have me sent to an asylum, I ran away.” She hisses and her next words begin strained then even out.

“I ran away, cut my hair, dressed myself as a boy, and enlisted in the infantry. I was a drummer for them. You know, the ones that beat the cadence to send commands across the fields. I was shot in the leg, and that would not have been a problem, but I panicked. Then some crazed loon took a bayonet to my side while I was attempting to drag myself from the field. I cut the lout’s throat but the damage was done.” More curse words and she smacks her hand on the stone bench.

“Nearly done,” Madge soothes and Johanna takes a few more deep breaths.

“Peeta found me. I told him I’d rather die right there on the field, knowing what he’d discover as soon as he started tending to me… God love the man, he tended to me anyways and barely even blinked. Not even with musket fire around us… a brush fire. An enemy soldier attacking him. He just… sliced the man the way you slaughter a pig then went back to sewing me together enough to move me. He even yelled at another medic who tried to help, sent him to assist the others wounded nearby instead. He stitched me up, and then lied to the doctors. Said the leg wound was the only one. He stopped by the field hospital every day after and saw to the wound on my side himself. When I was healed enough to rejoin the field, another drummer had already taken my place. Peeta convinced the commander to make me a part of the medical team instead.”

“Driving the cart to move the wounded and the dead,” I supply.

Johanna nods, lifts her arm then, and points to a long jagged scar over her ribs, curling beneath her breast. Exceptionally close to the orb. “This is the one Peeta stitched back together.”

I drop my eyes and watch as Madge finishes her stitching.

“He never asked me why. Why would a girl hide as a man and join the infantry. When I asked him why he never asked… he said he assumed I must have a damn good reason and it was none of his business. He trusted that I would tell him if and when I was ready to trust him. No one would willingly subject themselves to such a life unless they were desperate, had no choice, or wished death upon themselves, he said. It is quite cute when he is so naive.”

I wipe my hands clean with a rag and set myself to the task of crushing herbs.

“So then when he took that sword to his leg…”

“I couldn’t let him die,” Johanna whispers, turning her head just enough for me to see her profile but not enough to look me in the eyes. “I wanted to because then the only person who could betray my secret and see me returned to my family would take my secret to the grave. I would be safe without having to trust in a man. But… I couldn’t. He saved my life, so I saved his.”

“And did you and he…Were you one of the women he…” I trail off, unable to voice the despicable fear choking my throat closed.

“No, Kitten,” Jo says and finally meets my eyes. “I told you he’s a right gentleman. I offered, several times in fact, but he always refused. Said it wasn’t right to take advantage like that when he knew my secret. He saw that knowledge for what it was, something a lesser person would use to control me and so he refused to give even the impression of such control. The damn righteous bastard said he wouldn’t sleep with someone who felt they owed him a debt like that, and that the only reason I was offering was because I felt I owed him. Not because I loved him.”

My spine grows stiffer and my motions as I grind the herbs more forceful with every word she speaks. It sounds like something Peeta would say, but I don’t know if I can believe Johanna.

“Don’t tell him I said it… but he was right to refuse me. He’s been the only real friend I’ve had in years and I am glad he wouldn’t allow me to ruin that,” Johanna says and then she grins. “But he wasn’t above listening to me every night I got drunk and a little too talkative about all the reasons my father thought I needed divine intervention. All the maids and local girls. The boys I let beneath my skirts. My favorite though was a dairy maid named Portia. Ah she was a sweet treat indeed. And you’ve reaped the benefits of my big mouth, haven’t you, Kitten?”

I mix the herbs with the cream despite the burning on my cheeks. I am at least appeased that I am not healing one of my husband’s former lovers, but the fact that Peeta apparently learned much about pleasing a woman simply by listening to this one aggravates me. I smack the cream onto her back and she startles, once more cursing and glaring at me.

“Is that why you hate me then? Because I have been intimate with him while you were not.”

“That would be too simple, Mrs. Mellark. Give me some credit for having more depth of emotions than a jealous harpy. I despise you because the two of you are free to love one another openly and no one will question or recoil from you for it. No one will accuse you of being unnatural, sinful, or an abomination for having that tussle in the stables or by the lake and wherever else on this green earth the two of you have been when you cannot control yourselves. I despise you because you have a real and extraordinary love right in front of you, and you are too much of a coward to admit it.” I blink at her and she scoffs.

“I am not a coward.” Madge stares at me as I spread the cream along the stitched seam of Johanna’s back. “But I won’t admit it to you before I say it to him.”

Johanna’s eyes widen, astonished and so feminine in that moment that I wonder how I did not see it before. The curtsies, the things she’s said to me, the way Peeta reminded her on the day we met that a rough serving man cannot just grab a lady and pull her from the mud without her permission…

I turn to Madge to keep Johanna from questioning what I just confessed to her. “You have been awful quiet during all of these revelations. How long have you known?”

“Since the day after your father awakened.”

I am taken back to that day. The stables. The tea.

“The tea for the monthlies was for Johanna,” I say and Madge nods.

“I did not like keeping it from you, Katniss, but I thought it best at the time. Even though Johanna insisted she and Peeta had never been intimate, I feared the truth coming to light just then might ruin what was growing betwixt the two of you.”

“Which begs the question, Kitten…what will you do now?”

I look between the two women and consider the options, all of what has been revealed to me tonight.

Pulling long strips from the healing kit at my feet, I meet Johanna’s gaze. “Now I will bandage your back. When I am done, you shall return to your dwelling, drink every drop of the tea I am sending with you. You will sleep on your stomach and not disturb or scratch at the bandages. In the morning, Madge and I will tend to your wound. You will only admit either her or myself to see to your care. While I do not believe that my parents would turn you out should they learn the truth, I will not take that risk without your blessing. And once you are healed, you will stop teaching Maysilee to jump side saddle and teach her how to do the thing right. Safely astride. I’ll not see her break her neck over something so foolish as propriety.”

Johanna squints her eyes at me as I speak and then laughs when I am done. “Now I see it, Kitten. I know why he’s so hopelessly in love with you!”

I ignore this and bandage her back, but I have the strangest sense that I have somehow acquired a new ally.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

To be continued… look for chapter 19 on the blog of @everlarkficexchange.

#efe 2019 #submission #M #everlark #everlark fic exchange #chapter18 #anonymous

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