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tailorvizsla · 1 year

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Title: Cin Vhetin Pairing: Armorer x Bo-Katan Kryze Rating: NC-17 Wordcount: ~3000 Warnings: Vaginal fingering, sorta public sexual activity, wlw, religious trauma Notes: Cin vhetin, from Mandoa.org, means "the erasing of a person's past when they become Mandalorian, and that they will only be judged by what they do from that point onwards", which is kind of what I think the producers are going for this season for Bo-Katan. I gave up religion a long time ago, so I can't tell you who is worthy of redemption/forgiveness. All I can offer is what I felt and knew during that time of my life with a smattering of smut.

Here, Bo-Katan finds comfort in musing on the meaning of cin vhetin and whether she has regained her soul after her rebirth in the mines of Mandalore. Impulsively, she seeks comfort with one of the few people she believes still see her as a Mandalorian warrior.

Light S4:E5/Ch 21 spoilers.

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The stairs sink into murky darkness. Vizsla heads down, each footstep steady, as if he has walked this path many times before. He offers no conversation as he leads her down the multitude of pathways. At long last, they come to a doorway. He leaves her there and shuffles away without another word. The sound of his heavy footsteps die away, leaving them alone in the small space.

Armorer is standing next to a dusty, cobweb covered forge. Bo-Katan stands at attention at the doorway, waiting for an order.

Armorer's gloved hands are spread across the lip of the workspace. It's a scene Bo-Katan has seen far too many times in her years - cold, empty forges and silence where there was once song. Sometimes she had come across groups of Mandalorians, lost and mourning, as they huddled around the cold hearth. Sometimes, like now, it was just the armorer who had survived, both no longer having a Tribe to serve. But most of the time, it was alone. Standing long after its attendants had fled or been killed. Like the Great Forge on Mandalore, it was the only thing that remained of the people who had once lived in its light.

Armorer's head is bowed, while the rest of her body is tense.

Bo-Katan wonders how many souls had been given and departed in this very room. Did Armorer remember them all? Or did time steal those names from her, the same way they had stolen hers?

"This was once the Forge of our covert. I have been to the Great Forge on Mandalore."

"I remember the Forge well," Bo-Katan responds quietly.

She remembers it at its greatest, abuzz with activity. She remembers the careful choreograph of a hundred armorers working together in perfect harmony. What she would not give to see it again as she had seen it as a young girl! Bo-Katan remembers some of the faces of the regular attendants, but not their names. Even more fleeting were the ones who only visited to pay tribute and to carry its flame back home. All Mandalorians were welcomed to take solace in its warmth and light. All were equal in its presence, no matter what their race, religion, or social status were. Together, they were beautiful and strong.

She had also seen the Great Forge at its quietest, buried in rubble and stripped of its beskar like the fallen warriors surrounding it. Every Mandalorian old enough to remember the Great Forge remembers when it fell, its walls breached and its armorers slaughtered. When the Great Forge stopped, it was as if her own heart stopped beating that day. Now, her heart calls out for a song that she will likely never hear again in her lifetime.

"It was large and ornate, and the air rang with the music of a hundred hammers," Armorer continues wistfully. "And here stood a simple one. Yet, they were both forges. They served the same purpose."

The Great Forge might have been the heart of Mandalore, but it was the smaller Forges that carried its song across the stars. Entire generations of warriors have gone marching far, far away from the living, taking the stories and memories of the Great Forge with them. These smaller Forges are all that remain of the mighty heart of Mandalore, fractured and scattered like grains of sand in the wind.

Armorer turns to her.

"Remove your helmet."

Bo-Katan stares at her in surprise. She's spent months with her helmet on, wondering if she'd ever feel sunlight on her face again, terrified she'd be alone again. And now - Armorer wants her to take it off?

"But - " she starts to say.

"Do you respect my station?" Armorer asks.

"I do," Bo-Katan says.

Who wouldn't respect their armorer?

"Remove your helmet," Armorer repeats, her tone shifting into something indescribable.

Obediently, Bo-Katan raises her hands and lifts her helmet off. She's sure she's a hot mess after combat, but the cool air feels delightful on her sweaty skin. As she gazes into the Armorer's black visor, she feels naked, as if her soul is being judged. She contemplates the sins of her past and wonders if she's even worthy of being judged by such a magnificent being.

"Our people have strayed from The Way, and it is not enough for a few to walk it. We must walk it together."

Together . If they come together, will they hear the song of the Great Forge again? She doesn't dare hope that she'll have a hand in bringing that back to their people.

"This is the way," Bo-Katan says automatically, uncertainly.

"We must walk The Way together. All Mandalorians."

"I understand," she says.

The uncertainty grows, yet she understands.

"I was taught that the mythosaur existed only in legends, and yet, you saw it. It is a sign that the next age is upon us. Mandalore must all come together. You have walked both worlds. You are the one who can unite us."

The uncertainty is stronger than before. Bo-Katan remembers hearing the stories as well. But she had not been worthy of wielding the Darksaber all those years ago when it was gifted to her. Her rash, impulsive, selfish behavior was what led Mandalore to its downfall. She betrayed her sister, her own flesh and blood, for selfish ambition and greed. She had lost her heart, soul, and faith the day the Great Forge went silent. For many years, she has gone through the motions, placing one foot in front of the other without regard to The Way, simply acting like a Mandalorian.

She hadn't intended on being reborn when she saved Din Djarin from drowning. In fact, reclaiming her soul as a Mandalorian had been the last thing on her mind. But now…the hope of becoming whole once more…it is almost more than she can bear.

She recognizes that her rebirth wipes away the sins of her past life, but to claim cin vhetin right now would be an insult to The Way, and to all those who died by her hand and her ineptitude. She has not earned her redemption. Far from it - it doesn't matter how deep the living waters go, or how quickly they flow - there is simply too much blood on her hands.

But for today and tomorrow, and the days that follow, she can try to bring some light back to Mandalore and the Mando'ade. They deserve so much better than living in fear, than being devoured one Tribe at a time by the maw of the Empire and its allies. They deserve the hope of hearing the song of the Great Forge one day.

In that moment, Bo-Katan resolves herself to act like a Mandalorian. To be the woman Armorer thinks she can be. To be like Armorer. Each time Bo-Katan looks at her, she knows the other woman walks each step deliberately, with the utmost reverence for The Way. The emptiness within grows - how could this magnificent warrior have any measure of faith in someone as broken as her?

Bo-Katan inhales and gnaws on her lower lip.

She doesn't want to deal with the state of her soul right now. It will lead to another discussion, and Armorer will probably tell her "this is The Way" in that infuriating tone to end the conversation when she's had enough. Bo-Katan knows she will probably stay up way too late thinking about it and lose another night of sleep. But…Armorer seems to know what to say, and when.

She knows when to give an order, and she knows when to let her subordinates figure things out . It's one of the things she admires most. She walks the path between leadership and spiritual healing brilliantly, in perfect harmony. She has found the balance between peace and war, confidence and humility.

Bo-Katan lifts a hand absently to cover her karta beskar. That knowledge brings fire to her heart once more. She hasn't felt like this in so many years. She feels alive.

Bo-Katan closes her eyes, inhaling, remembering the sheer thrill of the hunt.

The ease with which her comrades fought and moved together, two dozen Mandalorian hearts beating as one. She remembers seeing the blood dripping off her hammer. Watching the brutal efficiency in each calculated swing as she silenced her enemies. If asked, Bo-Katan would say she's familiar with the Armorer, or about as much as anyone of Tribe Nevarro could be with their leader. She's spent many nights listening to Armorer dispense advice and tell stories of their greatest warriors. She's sparred with the other woman, both physically and verbally.

Something has been simmering inside of her for weeks now, reaching closer and closer to bubbling over. Knowing that there is someone in this galaxy who has faith in her, who respects her, who considers her worthy …it's more than she can handle. And now, as Armorer shifts her weight from one foot to the other, she finds her eyes drawn to her backside.

Fuck.

The chances of her fucking this up are astronomical, but she can't help herself. She's too impulsive, too rash - her father's words echo harshly in her mind, but she pushes them away. For the first time in decades, she understands shereshoy, and she knows she cannot let this moment slip by. She'll regret it for the rest of her life, and that list is already far too long for one woman's lifespan.

Swallowing the knot of anxiety in her throat away, Bo-Katan puts her helmet down on an abandoned crate. Armorer lifts her head to look at her. She throws caution to the wind and advances aggressively. Armorer takes a half-step back and she continues to advance until their bodies are separated by a mere handspan. She reaches out with one hand, hovering just over Armorer's forearm, as she looks up at Armorer's visor imploringly.

She can hear Armorer's breathing through her modulator. Slowly, she lowers her hand. She can feel the hard muscles underneath through their gloves. She swallows and looks back up. Her fingers trail up her arm.

"Please," Bo-Katan whispers. "Touch me?"

Show me I am worthy of you.

Armorer does not hesitate, fanning the flames higher with each little touch. Bo-Katan can feel the sheer strength in her hands, so very carefully restrained. Her hands work greedily to move her leather apron up higher around her waist. Bo-Katan works one glove off and stuffs it into her pocket.

One hand guides her back against the Forge while she pushes her thigh between Armorer's legs. She gets her pants unbuttoned and starts to push them down around her thighs. Bo-Katan wriggles her fingers down. Bo-Katan is momentarily surprised by the scraps of lace cupping Armorer's vulva.

"Never took you for the type to wear lace, Armorer," Bo-Katan whispers against her shoulder.

"Sabriye," Armorer returns. "My name is Sabriye."

Bo-Katan gives her a questioning look. Armorer leans forward to press her helmet against her forehead.

"I think you ought to know my name, considering the intentions you appear to have toward my person," she says, her voice as infuriatingly calm as ever.

"Does anyone here else know your name?" Bo-Katan asks casually, her thumb brushing up against Sabriye's clit. She sighs with pleasure.

"No," Sabriye says. " Their advances were rejected."

"Mmm," Bo-Katan purrs into her audial. "Lucky me."

She's soaked. Bo-Katan spends a few moments stroking her before parting her folds, using her middle finger to tease her slit. Sabriye's fingers dig into Bo-Katan's shoulders as she squirms and pants. Bo-Katan closes her eyes, biting down on her lower lip as Sabriye writhes in her arms, like she hasn't been touched in years.

Bo-Katan strokes again before trapping her swollen clit between her fingers and squeezing lightly. Armorer's head falls back and she moans . Her hips buck up against her hand. Bo-Katan dares to peek up and sees the tiniest sliver of the forbidden. Wet heat jolts in her belly at the sight of Sabriye's skin.

Saliva pools in her mouth at the thought of biting her, tasting her. She makes up her mind. She can't stop herself. Bo-Katan finds Sabriye's entrance - soaked, clenching hungrily at the tips of her fingers as her hips undulate. Bo-Katan cups one hand around Armorer's waist, pinning her in place, to keep her from squirming too much.

Bo-Katan starts to sink two fingers into Sabriye's sweltering heat. At the same time, she leans in and bites down on Sabriye's exposed neck. A sharp cry of pleasure escapes her. It's the most beautiful thing Bo-Katan has heard in her life.

Bo-Katan closes her eyes and bites again, this time gentler, using her tongue to soothe away the discomfort her teeth have undoubtedly caused. Sabriye smells like something floral and gunpowder. She shivers as she pumps her fingers in and out slowly, relishing the way Sabriye's walls squeeze tight around her fingers.

Gods, she'd fucking kill to be back at the Covert right now. She could imagine just how gorgeous Sabriye would look, spread out on the bed. Knees parted, cunt slick and ready to be licked. Bo-Katan shivers in delight at the thought of being down on her knees in front of her.

"Your helmet," Bo-Katan whispers against her helmet, scissoring and twisting her fingers. "Lift it. Just an inch. I'll close my eyes. Promise."

For a moment, she's not sure if Sabriye had heard her, or if she'll even respond.

"Close your eyes," Sabriye says firmly. Bo-Katan obeys, and she hears the hiss of her helmet lifting up.

Bo-Katan leans in and presses her lips to hers, her hand rising from her hip to cup the back of her head. She devours the other woman, smothering her little moans with her mouth. She tastes so good, like peppermint and something vaguely spicy. It's intoxicating. Bo-Katan dares to slide a third finger into Sabriye and she earns herself another choked cry. Fuck . Bo-Katan's ready to cum and she hasn't even touched herself - she's just been standing here with her legs clenched together.

"I-I'm close," Sabriye slurs into her mouth.

Bo-Katan silences her next words with another kiss, grinding the heel of her hand into Sabriye's clit, maintaining her steady pace. With a choked inhalation, Sabriye peaks, coating Bo-Katan's palm in another gush of wetness. Her walls squeeze tightly around her fingers, almost painfully, as she shudders to completion around her. Bo-Katan presses little kisses to her lips until she stops clenching around her.

Bo-Katan buries her face into Sabriye's shoulder and slowly pulls her fingers out.

"Am I good to open my eyes?" she asks.

She hears a quiet hiss as Sabriye's helmet repressurizes.

"You may," she says.

Bo-Katan takes a moment to observe her fingers, wet and shiny with Sabriye's pleasure. She smirks at her lover and sucks her fingers clean. Then she wipes her hand on her pants and puts her glove back on. The next beat of silence is tense, though Bo-Katan can't tell if it's sexual tension or awkwardness.

"An alor should not be romantically involved with one of their own," she says at long last. She sounds uncertain. It stings, but Bo-Katan had figured it wouldn't be long term or permanent. She decides to crack a joke to lighten the mood.

"I just took my helmet off," Bo-Katan quips. "I'm technically not Mandalorian anymore, remember?"

Armorer gives her a long look. Bo-Katan feels like she said the wrong thing. Like usual.

Shit .

The moments tick by, and she starts to worry her lip with her teeth again.

"Mandalorians are like beskar," Sabriye says at long last. "We are a combination of iron and kyber. Iron can bend, yet once it reaches its limits, it deforms, and will always bear those scars. Kyber is hard, yet it will shatter with the lightest blow from a hammer. Only time can reform kyber."

Bo-Katan watches, unsure what she means.

"Together, iron and kyber become beskar," Sabriye continues. "It is more resilient, flexible, and stronger than its constituents." She turns back to the forge and places her palms on it once more, as if trying to will the flame back to life. "When we are born, or when our souls are given to us, our families pledge to guide us through life according to the Resol'nare until we are of age. These six acts are what makes us Mandalorian, nothing more and nothing less."

Oh.

"So, keeping ones' helmet on…"

" - is one of many rules that our Death Watch predecessors made up to ensure secrecy."

"To protect the organization and ensure anonymity in the field," Bo-Katan says bitterly.

How fitting. A former member of Death Watch turned Nite Owl and a Child of the Watch, standing together, musing on what it means to be Mandalorian. For so long, Bo-Katan has sneered down on those following the old ways, and yet, here she is now, practically on her knees for one of them. For the chance to live again. She's been wrong about so many things before in her life. She's been too proud to admit it. But now…here, in front of Sabriye, she understands what her pride has cost her and their people.

It hurts. So, so badly.

"Why would we pledge ourselves to something if we are simply going to look for a way out of our obligations?" Sabriye asks, and Bo-Katan finally understands. She puts her hand on Sabriye's. The other woman looks at her. She can feel Sabriye's exhaustion, but there is no part of her wavering under the burden she carries.

"The diversity of our people is what makes us strong," Bo-Katan finishes quietly. "You do not need to change your beliefs, and neither do I. We can still be strong together, even if we are as different as iron and kyber."

Sabriye nods.

"One step at a time, in perfect balance, as we walk that blade's edge," Bo-Katan says softly. "Together?"

Sabriye nods, and then she sighs. She sounds as if she is carrying the weight of the entire Tribe upon her shoulders. Bo-Katan will be proud if she can ease that burden, even slightly.

"Together," she says quietly. She looks up at her. "There is more than one way to walk The Path," Sabriye says. "And I was foolish to think otherwise."

Bo-Katan says nothing. Instead, she squeezes Sabriye's hand, a silent promise to support her decisions and follow her leadership. She carries her helmet under her arm as they exit the silent foundry. She gives the Forge one last lingering look. Maybe one day, in many years, another Mandalorian family will stumble upon this dusty old Forge, and they will know the song that it once sang.

Also, I used Bo throughout writing this because I didn't want to have to write it out each time. Then at the end, I went through and replaced all instances of "Bo" with "Bo-Katan", which inadvertently led to hilarious results. I've gone through twice and caught a few mistakes, but if there are any left over, please let me know. :)

#star wars #the mandalorian #the armorer x bo-katan kryze #the armorer x bo katan kryze #armorer x bo-katan #armorer x bo katan #niteforge #romance #wlw #spice #armorkatan #nitearmor #how many other names are there for this pairing #also i kinda have a thing for the idea that armorer is super girly under her armor???

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