#I don't want him to be turned into a monster by willingly choosing the Empire over his family | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ac-liveblogs · 2 years

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What is your interpretation of the reasoning behind Dimitri leaving Edelgard behind like that in the ending of AG?

*cracks knuckles* It's all down to how different Dimtri's character arc in Azure Gleam is to his arc in Azure Moon, and how that shapes his mental state when he goes to fight Edelgard.

I could go a lot deeper into the nuance, but to put it very bluntly - Azure Gleam's Dimitri really isn't that different to the Dimitri we met in White Clouds. He's White Clouds Dimitri with a stronger support system. Which means that Azure Gleam Dimitri is the same guilt-ridden, suicidal revenge seeker as White Clouds Dimitri.

In Azure Moon, Dimitri falls on major hard times, loses Dedue, is framed for his uncle's death, lives in the slums for four years, has an atrocious life. His desire for revenge drives him in his war against the Empire, and he slams right into a brick wall when his revenge quest leads to Fleche's attempt to avenge her brother Randolph. Dimitri's revenge quest stutters to a halt when it gets Rodrigue killed, and his conversation with Byleth afterwards leads to him questioning how important revenge for the dead vs the value of those that are still alive, and what it is that he wants to live for.

In the end, he abandons his revenge and chooses to defend the Kingdom to protect the people living there. He enters negotiations with Edelgard, and though they fall through he goes to fight her in Enbarr with at least a shred of hope that there's still a chance they can work things out. Enough to offer her his hand, at the end.

In Azure Gleam, he has no such realisation. Though he is still a just and kind king, his drive for revenge carries him throughout the story. He executes everyone involved in the Tragedy of Duscar. His motivation to fight Edelgard isn't just to protect the Kingdom - it's to ascertain her role in what happened. And he invades Adrestia because the atrocities the Empire is committing are unacceptable. He goes to Enbarr well aware that he's going to kill her.

Though I don't find much value in the "secret chapter", it does establish a few things about Dimitri and Edelgard's current dynamic in their conversation.

One, is that Dimitri finds no point in trying to figure out Edelgard's goals or reason with her. He has not reached the point he did in Azure Moon that he no longer wants her as his enemy. Two, is that Dimitri gets some solid evidence that Edelgard at least somewhat remembers their childhood together. Somewhat. And three - that despite the fact he's aware that they are going to fight to the death once this is over, Dimitri still cares about her enough to reach out his hand to her when they aren't actually enemies.

Which leads into two very different frames of mind for Dimitri in the finales -

Azure Moon: Dimitri, hoping to find peace with Edelgard but prepared to kill her if they can't, fights an Edelgard that has turned herself into a monster for her own ideals. Despite her transformation, he still finds it within himself to offer her compassion. In the end, despite wanting to avoid it, Dimitri has to kill her.

But that death was Edelgard's choice, and Dimitri accepts that. And Dimitri mourns her. He really hoped they could be close again. He optimistically wanted to work with her again - but Edelgard refused.

Azure Gleam: Dimitri goes to Enbarr to kill Edelgard - no other options. He doesn't want to save her. He doesn't think they can reach an understanding. He doesn't even want to talk to her - "too many have died for us to have a meaningful conversation". At this point, she has to die.

But unlike Azure Moon, where Edelgard willingly corrupts herself here, Edelgard has been forcibly made some form of "pure" - a child that doesn't understand what she's doing and has no control over her actions. She is Thales' brainwashed puppet, mentally a child, and Dimitri is made well aware of that.

When Edelgard looks up at him and calls him Dee, when Edelgard has at that point potentially already told him she does not remember him - at that point, I'm pretty sure Dimitri has put two and two together and realised that this isn't Edelgard the Emperor anymore; this is El, the girl he used to love.

And despite wanting to kill her, he finds himself unable to. But at the same time, he no longer has any compassion for her and has no interest in making amends, renewing their friendship or working with her. So honestly, I think he just kinda. Shuts down. He wasn't prepared for this. So he just walks away. I think he just wants nothing more to do with her at that point.

tl;dr:

Azure Moon: Dimitri doesn't want revenge anymore, wants to work with Edelgard, is forced to kill her instead. Wanted to work with her, can't, mourns her death.

Azure Gleam: Dimitri still wants revenge, is ready to kill Edelgard, finds himself unable to. Never thought he could work with her, can't deal with her not being the enemy he expected, ollies out.

For a lot of reasons I think Azure Moon's Dimitri is a more powerful and engaging character, in that he tries to have compassion even for his enemies. In Azure Gleam he absolutely does not, and his revenge crusade just kind of awkwardly grinds to a halt lmao

#ac plays fe 3hopes #i mean AG dimitri is apparently kinda hmmmming selling out the church which is #yeah Big Doubt i really don't think that would realistically happen #AG Dimitri is a GOOD king and AM Dimitri is a KIND king #i think is how i would put it

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hellothere-generalangsty · 3 years

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THE BAD BATCH THEORY

Some spoilers of ep1, ep2 and ep8

Also a TW later on (it's notified so don't worry)

I hate it, but I still think about what my bf told me a few days ago about Crosshair

Basically he told me "I'm sure he doesn't have a chip and he's willingly following the Empire"

And I was like "no because he reacted to Order 66, said the infamous 'good soldiers follow orders' and they showed a scene where he was tortured as they enhanced his chip so it could totally take control of him"

But then yesterday I think I read this post on Tumblr where OP said smth like "what if he gets the chip removed but remains loyal to the Empire"

And I'm telling you, this is making me nervous because I know he's an asshole to the regs and he's cold and irritating; hell I would probably punch him if I met him irl.

But also. I can't imagine him just being bad. I can't picture him willingly hunting his brothers, trying to kill them, obeying orders like a good little soldier and being used as a war tool by the Empire when he couldn't take an order from Rex if Hunter didn't agree to it first.

Like... I know some people don't like him/ hate his guts, which I understand (difference btw fiction and reality, like I said above I would probably punch the snark out of him if I met him irl) but I also see the way he's synchronised with his brothers, the way he teases Wrecker with silly bets on who will take out the more droids; or the way he gently pat Echo's shoulder when they rescued him; or the way he holds so much respect for Hunter and his leadership.

I mean, family is a damn weird thing, sometimes you fight, you drag each other down, you make snarky remarks; but you also always got their back when they need you, you'd do anything to protect them from intruders and you'd put yourself on the line to make sure nothing bad happens to them.

And that's what he does everytime we see him with the BB pre-Order 66.

And post-Order 66, he sticks to his brothers, even if he disagrees with Hunter about the fate of Caleb, even if he feels filled with frustration and anger. He only turned against them when he's completely brainwashed by Tarkin and the enhencement of his chip; and even then we still have moments where he's doubting/hesitating (ep8), reflecting back (ep2).

So yeah. Do what you want with that, I just want Crosshairs saved from the chip, and see the aftermath, the consequences it has on his relation with his brothers; and with himself.

(TW: violence/ death, implicit mention of wanting to die, break down)

Just imagine:

Crosshair getting rid of the chip, fully aware of what he did under its control; all the killings and the tracking and the death threats on his brother's lives.

The way he almost shot Hunter, then Tech, then tried to get Omega killed.

The scars on his face being a painful reminder of him ordering his Empire squad to brun his family alive.

Have him sit by himself in the cockpit of the Havoc Marauder, unable to sleep because of the nightmares he has everytime he closes his eyes.

Let him get really uncomfortable when one of the Batcher join him; Wrecker or Hunter, sitting in silence in one of the seat, trying to keep him company but not wanting to invade too much...

But it's too much to bear anyway, and he breaks down. He shoves his face in his hands, barely able to mutter a "sorry"

And first he got tears rolling down his cheeks as he whispers "I couldn't help it", and it get worse when he says that he tried, he really did, he missed his shots even though it was atrocious and so hard to fight against the damn chip

And as he ugly cries, cockpit filled by his sniffing and his sobs, he confesses that he wanted one of them to get him.

"I wanted the nightmares to stop"

And his brother, sitting next to him, so taken aback by his confession, his behavior, he doesn't even know what to say neither how to react

Because the snarky and cold-facaded Crosshair is gone and all that's left is a broken man, a little brother begging for forgiveness.

I want a brutal shift in his behavior, as a direct consequence of the effect the chip had on him; the possessive and oh so nefast influence.

I want him being mentally and physically unable to mock or get snarky at his brothers because it triggers memories of the times he really did try to hurt them.

I want him to be as silent as usual, but now when he talks it's always to bring out something positive his brothers did or said; or a constructive criticism on a plan, a mission. He still chews on his toothpick, even more than he did before, and he cannot sleep alone anymore.

He grows to loathe cold blue, and doesn't protest when Omega paints a miniature version of his plush on his helmet. The next time the Batchers cross path with Rex, he takes him to a quiet corner and apologize about that one mission to save Echo, about the regs- the brothers Rex lost during Order 66.

I want him to realise that he was an asshole, but he is not a bad person in his core. Let him face the consequences of his snark; but also let him heal from the traumatic experiences he had to endure because of the chip, the Empire, Tarkin and Palpatine.

___________________________________________

Edit: just tagging @loth-wolffe again don't mind me I deleted the comment that's why 💀

#I don't want him to be turned into a monster by willingly choosing the Empire over his family #especially when we have lot of evidences of the peculiar yet real affection and brotherhood between the Batchers #I know Crosshairs is an asshole but it doesn't mean he's a monster #I hope Filoni and his team won't make the mistake of mixing up both #crosshair #tbb #the bad batch theory #the bad batch #Inhibitor chip #Empire Crosshair #theory #I'm really concerned about Crosshair's fate here #I want him to heal #be a better person #Make him a complex character #the same way you did to Fives and Rex and Ahsoka and Dogma and Anakin and Echo and Wrecker and everyone else #don't waste his potential just because he's the stereotypical asshole of the team #Crosshair deserves it #the bad batch deserves it too #bad batch family #angst #mesa writes

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tilltheendwilliwrite · 3 years

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Star-Crossed: Bound by Blood

Chapter One

Master List

Pairing: Mando/Din Djarin x OFC Baast’Mal

Warnings: I'm making this up as a go, Canon divergent from the series during chapter 13, mild violence

A/N: I make this stuff up as I go along, if I screw something Star Wars-y up, apologies in advance, I didn't do it on purpose, but I'm new to this Fandom. I will be cross posting this story between AO3 and Tumblr except the smutty bits. Those chapters will only be available to registered users on AO3. (I'm trying something new for people who want to read here on Tumblr, but to also avoid the smut for minors controversy. We'll see how it goes.)

*I do not have a tag list* Please follow the story on AO3 if you want email updates, or follow @tilltheendwilliwrite-library where I post the new/latest chapters of all my stories.

***

In the sweltering heat of the jungle, Din Djarin crouched to better scan for tracks in the rotting foliage at the base of the tall trees. Pools of light made it difficult to adjust correctly for the shadowy depths; add in the thermal activity of the plants and animals in this stinking sewer of a planet, and he was having a hard time tracking his quarry.

When he'd accepted the puck, he hadn't known what he was getting into as her chain code was surprisingly sparse. The only additional information he had was her name - Taa Marel - her last known location and face.

And what a face. Even on a holo, she was stunning, not that the Mandalorian would let that sway him one way or the other.

He'd tracked the stolen ship from Bogano, where she'd initially been hiding out to this skug hole of a world that was made to torment men in beskar, causing them to swelter in their helmet.

The kid, however, loved the place.

Constantly cooing, riding in his pouch, he touched everything he could get his chubby green fingers on. Leaves, flowers, bugs; those, of course, went straight in his mouth. By this point, Mando accepted the womp rat could and would eat just about anything.

Upon arrival, they'd found the ship nose down, destroyed, and abandoned, but the crash landing had created just enough space for Mando to set the Razor Crest down. Then the hunt began.

After three hours of slogging through the heat, he was ready to kill her. After four, he decided death was too good for someone who made him sweat this hard. After five, he was determined to make her suffer. But they were closing in. He could feel it like an ache in his bones.

Tracks led forward, but something didn't sit right with that. They were too obvious. After hours of following such a well-covered trail, this was an insult to his skills. Footprints led straight down a game trail like a beacon meant to lure him astray.

It wasn't right, too easy by far, and the skin on his nape crawled.

He looked up, straight into the eyes of the woman he was hunting. Even through the distorted colour of heat vision, he could see they were a vibrant green.

He moved on instinct, whipcord shooting out, wrapping around her shoulders, and dragging her out of the tree.

She screamed the battle cry of a hunting cat, an inhuman sound before she twisted mid-air and landed lightly, crouched but on her feet.

"Taa Marel, I can bring you in warm, or I can bring you in cold," he warned her, hand hovering over his blaster.

"That is not my name. And I choose option three."

Her voice kicked him in the groin and made his dick twitch. Stunned, he could only watch as her hands came up and nails like talons shredded his whipcord.

Someone had left a few things out of her chain code.

"Put the child down."

Mando blinked. "Why would I do that?"

What did she want with his foundling? Had she heard about him? Would she attempt to take him?

"I intend to kick your ass, Mandalorian, but I do not hurt children. Put him down."

Surprised, Mando reached for the strap across his chest instead of his blaster. "You're not going to run?"

She lifted a proud chin. "You will continue to hunt me. I would rather die than return to that hell hole, but I will not go easy. I will fight."

She was beginning to impress him with more than just her face.

Din lifted the strap over his head, his eyes fixed on the target, studying her outside of the holo he'd memorized.

She stood with her chin raised, body slightly turned in a stance that bespoke proper training. If one could call it that, her green tunic had no sleeves, crossed over her breasts, tied just beneath them, and ended a few inches thereafter, baring the wealth of sun-darkened skin over tightly packed muscles. Pants hugged slim hips, billowed at her thighs, and tied tight to her calves thanks to the soft, short boots that went to her knee.

Sweat gave her a sheen that made her glow, her vibrant eyes shadowed behind thick, long lashes. Her face was a treasure trove of sculpted brows, sharp nose, and high cheekbones over lips that looked like ripe fruit, begging for teeth.

A mass of hair, the colour of sand, fell in heavy waves to her hips. It began to darken toward the tips until it was as black as the deepest corner of space.

As he moved the kid, she untied a thin cord from her wrist and slowly began to bind her hair in a low tail.

He'd never met a woman like her, a bounty like her, ever. This one - fugitive or not - had honour in her.

The kid cooed and waved. Her lips twitched into a smile as she winked and waved back.

"Fear not, Mandalorian. Should I kill you today, I will raise your foundling as my own."

Din's blood ran cold. "You won't get the chance."

He hung the child's satchel on a low tree knot and drew the beskar spear from his back in the same motion. Though he'd won the spear from magistrate Morgan Elsbeth on Corvus and helped the Jedi Ahsoka Tano defeat her forces, the Jedi held no answers when it came to the kid. Though, Din wondered if that had more to do with him than the little green monster. She'd told him to seek another Jedi, someone with more training than she, but had given him no direction in which to search.

"He is rather cute," she smirked. "But his kind age so slowly. You will be long dead before he is grown."

Mando paused. "You know of his kind?"

She arched a brow. "You do not?"

He lowered the spear and held up his off-hand. "I am tasked with returning him to his people."

Her posture never changed, but her eyes filled with sorrow. "He has no more people. The last of his kind, or what was thought to be the last, died some years ago. Master Yoda was his name."

"I'm to help him find the Jedi," Mando murmured.

Her eyes lost their sadness. "I cannot help you."

"Will not."

"They are one and the same," she whispered.

Lightning fast, she rushed him. Mando barely blocked the first swipe of her claws before the second clanged off his pauldron. He used the spear's shaft to knock her back, even as she kicked him in the ribs, bypassing the beskar.

"Do you know the life you condemn me to, Mandalorian, if you return me to that horrible place?" she asked, crouched once again, a few feet away.

"You're a bounty. I don't make deals," he stated, watching his quarry while keeping his body between her and the kid. His ribs smarted, but he'd had worse.

"No. You just work for the people who Purged your planet!" she spat, leaping and clawing.

She was fast, damn fast. Barely able to keep up, it was all Mando could do not to lose ground until he saw an opening and swept the butt of the spear at her leg.

She jumped back, breath coming hard.

"I didn't ask who the bounty was for." Greef Karga offered him the chance for a big payday, and right now, they could use it.

"You work for the Empire," she sneered. "Returning me to torture and experimentation. Do you think I was always like this!?" She stood and held out her arms, flexing fingers tipped in dark claws. She bared her teeth, revealing wicked-looking canines, then lifted a portion of hair to reveal a sharply pointed ear.

Again he paused, a thing unheard of, to ask, "What are you?" Her chain code said human, but she was certainly not that.

Her proud chin lifted in defiance. "Do you know what a Zentari is, Mandalorian?"

Din inhaled sharply. "That's not possible. They were wiped out."

"All but one. I am Baast'mal, last of the Zentari. The Empire took me as a child and used my gift to ruin me. They bound my blood to the Corellian Sand Panther and Manka Cat. They have so thoroughly defiled my biorhythms that if the constellations were kind enough to cross my path with that of my mate, I do not know if I could bond with him." Pain flickered across her features. "I am sullied, broken. I am a monster," she whispered before shaking herself free of the melancholia and raising that proud chin once more. "So kill me if you can, Mandalorian, for I will not go willingly."

The beskar spear fell from his fingers as Din dropped to a knee and bowed his head. "I am a Child of the Watch. I must offer aid, Zentari. This is the Way."

"The Way?" She took a step back. "The Mandalorians no longer follow the Old Ways. They no longer conceal their face from all but their riduur and ad. The creed is long dead."

He shook his head. "My Tribe is one of zealots. We hold to the old ways of Mandalore. I only recently learned of this as I was raised with them in hiding. The Purge took much, but the ways of the Zentari are remembered in the covert."

She hesitated, eyes wary. "I have faced Mandalorians before. They knew not the Way."

Din stripped his gloves from his hands and held them out, palms up as if catching water. He raised them above his head and brought them down over his helmet, appearing to another as if he washed with air. "Zentari of the Bright Star, may the constellations bless this warrior with a treasure greater than beskar that they would be mine. Cyar'ika. Ka'rta. Riduur."

She inhaled sharply. He watched her fight tears, lip trembling before she closed the distance between them and knelt. She dipped her fingers into his cupped palms as if they held water, brought them to her brow and stroked them down over her eyes and out along her cheeks.

Her hands shook as she lifted them toward his helmet and laid her palms lightly on the sides of the beskar.

His hands gently grasped her wrists, her skin warm and soft beneath his fingers. She wouldn't remove it, that he was sure of, but it was an instinct he couldn't deny when someone touched his helmet.

Her voice was whisper soft when she spoke. "Mandalorian, Holder of the Creed, blessed of the constellations. May you raise warriors strong in the Way and find your riduur. Your cyar'ika. Your ka'rta."

"This is the Way," he murmured, shaken by the encounter.

"This is the Way," she agreed as she drew him forward until his helmet lightly kissed her brow.

The shudder that raced through her raced through him with equal intensity. The Zentari race was a myth, a legend, a beautiful dream. They were so lost to time Din felt like his heart would burst with joy.

"Have you ever removed your helmet, Mando?" she asked softly.

The shortened form of address made his heart skip. "Not before any living thing." The Droid on Nevarro didn't count, and no matter what Bo'Katan said, the creed was his way. He would never show his face to any besides his wife or children.

Let Koska scoff as she liked at his traditions. She had not found a Zentari. She likely wouldn't know what to do with the Zentari if she did.

Din rocked back on his toes and pushed to his feet, surprised when she followed him with equal grace. "Zentari, we should return to my ship. The Alor will want to meet you. The covert will rejoice."

"Baast."

He froze as her hands landed lightly on his beskar covered chest. "What?"

"To you, I am Baast." She stared into his visor as if able to see his eyes.

"Baast," he murmured, wishing he could speak her name without the modulator.

"Yes, Din Djarin," she smiled.

He still held her wrists, and his hands became her shackles. "How do you know that name?" he demanded.

Long lashes swept her cheeks, a coy smile curling her lips. "Grogu told me."

His grip tightened more. "Who is Grogu?"

She tilted her head to look past him at the kid cooing at them. "He is Grogu."

"You can understand him?" Din asked, his shock registering even through the modulator.

"Not in words, but he speaks to those who can listen. Images. Impressions. The Force is strong in him," she smiled at Grogu. "He loves you."

"He's okay." Mando was grateful for the helmet that hid his foolish grin.

"You fool no one," Baast chuckled. She gently twisted her wrists, reminding him of her bondage.

He let her go and stepped back to pick up the spear.

"You are a man blessed of beskar," she murmured. "You must be a great hunter."

"Something like that," he murmured. It still shamed him how he'd acquired his armour, but if he hadn't turned in the kid - Grogu - he wouldn't have been as well-equipped to get him back and keep him safe as they ran from the Empire.

Baast headed for Grogu, her smile growing as she lifted down his carrier and situated the baby against her chest. Grogu giggled and babbled something Mando didn't understand.

"Oh, I see," Baast chuckled, casting a side-eye his direction.

"What?" Mando muttered.

"Clan of the Mudhorn. A clan of two." She flicked her claws over his sigil. "I wondered. Grogu explained."

Mando glared at the kid- Grogu. "Don't tell her all my secrets."

Grogu cooed. Baast cuddled him and smiled slyly. By that look, he was pretty sure it was too late for his secrets.

He turned to go, heading back the way he'd come. It would take hours to return to the Razor Crest, and it was already getting dark.

***

They didn't make it back to the ship before nightfall, but he found a hollow tree in which to spend the dark hours. Creeper vines had choked the life out of the behemoth, leaving them in a cage of vines and dry, dead bark with a wealth of firewood to choose from.

The fire burned brightly, drafting well, casting shadows across Baast's face and keeping the larger predators at bay. She slept curled around Grogu, lips gently parted. The air had finally cooled at sundown, but now he could see the shivers and goosebumps developing on her flesh.

Slowly, he leaned forward to remove the cape from his back. Then, just as quietly, he rose, rounded the fire, and draped it over her and Grogu. She stirred but didn't wake, and Din returned to his watch on the far side of the fire.

A Zentari. He could scarce believe it.

She was a myth made flesh—a beautiful dream. Once, when Mandalore still followed the old ways, Zentarus was where many warriors sought their mates, their most cherished riduur.

A Zentari was always fast and strong and incredibly rare. They grew quickly but aged slowly, their years stretching out into eternity, some said. Fine in face and form, when they met their match, they bonded, taking on traits of the other and giving a few as well.

A Mandalorian could live a very long time with a Zentari mate.

But most Mandalorians came home empty-handed as a bond with a Zentari could not be forced, but those who the stars smiled upon, those most blessed with a cherished mate, bonded in ways that grew legends. It was said their children were the most incredible of warriors.

Baast'mal was everything he imagined when told stories of Zentari as a child new to the Tribe. It didn't hurt that she was the most mesh'la female he'd ever seen. Fast. Strong. Deadly. He wondered at what the Empire had done to her, how they could force the blood bonds on Sand Panthers and Manka cats, and just what other mutations they'd caused.

He also wondered at her Force sensitivity. What she felt or even what she could do had not been discussed, but Mando knew there was more to her than he had yet discovered.

But it was the ache in him, the growing need to once again touch her skin that concerned him.

It was primal. Feral. It clawed at him. It had him itching to be closer - much closer - to her. He wanted to show her his face and hope she found him as pleasing as he did her.

Din had nothing to go by in comparison. He'd seen his reflection before, of course, but he had no way of knowing if a woman would think him handsome. He'd had encounters before, ones in which everyone walked away satisfied, some paid for, others freely offered, but the helmet and the beskar never came off.

With her, he wanted to be bare, stripped off all trappings. Din wanted to feel his naked skin against hers. He wanted to taste it.

"You are a very loud thinker," she mumbled, bright eyes glowing softly beyond the fire.

Mortification filled him. "I'm sorry, I-"

"I do not know your thoughts, Mando," she clarified, "just feel a gentle buzzing from the beskar. It restricts what I pick up from you."

Relief almost had him sagging. Baast closed her eyes, but he was loath to let the conversation end.

"How old are you?" She looked young, maybe twenty-five.

Her brow twitched, amusement in her smile. "It is rude to ask."

"I wondered how long the Empire had you," he explained.

Shadows darkened her eyes. "Forty years."

"But they've only been around for thirty," he frowned.

She gave a hollow laugh and sat up. "They have been around much, much longer. I remember the day they came for us. They slaughtered all who fought, men and women. Every child they could catch was rounded up and taken away." She looked away, down at dark claws. "I was the only Zentari to survive the experiments."

"I'm sorry." He was. "I know what it's like to lose everything."

She tilted her head. "You were a foundling."

It wasn't a question, and Din didn't answer her.

"They began experimenting with my blood almost immediately. I was ten when they bound traits of the Manka to me. I was fifteen when they brought in the Panther."

"How? Why?"

Her eyes burned into his. "Because they could." She flexed her fingers. "Because they are depraved. Because they are monsters, who turn others into abominations."

"You're not."

She looked at him in surprise.

Din shifted until he stood and made his way around to her side, where he offered his hand. Baast took it and joined him in the shadows as he led her a few steps away from Grogu. He stripped his gloves from his hands, the need to touch her no longer under his control.

Slowly, he reached up to caress her cheek. He pushed her hair back, revealing the pointed tip of her ear. Her eyes gleamed from behind heavy lids when he stroked his fingers down her tricep and finally cupped her elbow.

He closed his opposite hand around her nape; his thumb pressed to her spiking pulse. "You are no monster."

"My blood is sullied."

"Perhaps. But you remain unbroken," he murmured. "You lived. You escaped. Mesh'la, you are a beacon of shining hope to my Tribe. If there is one Zentari, perhaps there are others."

She closed her eyes. "There is not."

"How do you know?"

A tear trickled down her cheek. "I felt the last die three years ago. It was what gave me the strength to escape."

"Mishuk gotal'u meshuroke, pako kyore," he murmured, rubbing his thumb on her pulse.

"Pressure makes gems; ease makes decay?" A small smile twitched her lips. "Am I a gem, Mando?"

"No."

She arched an amused brow.

"You are something more precious than any gem," he murmured.

Colour dusted her cheeks. "A Mandalorian who has a way with words? I truly have seen it all," she teased.

He sighed and made sure it echoed through the modulator. "Get some rest." He attempted to move away, but she grabbed him by the belt.

"Stay."

"Baast?"

"Stay." She took his hand, led him closer to Grogu, encouraged him to sit against a fallen chunk of tree, and then curled up beside him, tucking herself under his arm.

"The beskar is too hard," he worried.

"No harder than a prison cell, and you are much warmer. I have not known the comfort of another since I was seven," she admitted.

He sighed again but gave in, curling his arm around her.

"Thank you for your cape."

"Hm."

Her chuckle was more of a low purr. When it rippled through him, Din swore he felt something inside him purr back.

Next Chapter

#Star-Crossed #mandalorian #Mandalorian fanfiction

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